#Lava Blaze X

[bhaskarlive]

Lava launches new smartphone with curved display

Domestic smartphone brand Lava on Wednesday launched a new smartphone under its Blaze series — Lava Blaze X, with a curved AMOLED display.

The new Blaze X comes in two stunning colour variants — Starlight Purple and Titanium Grey.

It will be available on Lava e-store and Amazon from July 20 at a starting price of Rs 13,999 (inclusive of bank offers).

Source: bhaskarlive.in

[techsole-blog]

Lava Blaze 3 5G Price, Official Look, Design, Specifications, Camera, Fe...

[gadget-bridge]

Lava Blaze X Review: Does it bring the X factor?

[cozy-writes-things]

Imagine: Playing Minecraft w/ Edgar

Edgar [Electric Dreams 1984] x Gn!Reader

I take requests!

You decided to try something different with your new boyfriend. You noticed he became a bit restless and clingy as he grappled with his inability to give you affection in the way that he wanted.

“Wh- where’re you going?” He sounded like a struck puppy.

“To the bathroom, Edgar.”

“Oh, right… heh, sorry.”

You desperately tried to think of ways to make him feel more secure in this relationship. You both knew it was unconventional and that you would have to get creative if you wanted to have some semblance of a normal romantic connection.

Your solution? Plugging a spare controller into one of his ports and playing games on your TV, of course. Most couples play some kind of game together, don’t they? This might be perfect for the two of you!

He was ecstatic when you brought this idea up.

“You mean… I can play with you?”

His synthesized voice would whimper out, full of barely contained excitement before erupting:

“Yeah!” He displayed a “>:D” face for good measure.

And that’s how you got here: playing split-screened co-op Minecraft on your TV with Edgar.

He wouldn’t even play the game really; he was too busy trying to make his little Minecraft guy kiss yours. He would run around and explore before running up and bonking your character with his default Steve face.

Honestly, for him, this was life-changing. For once in his life he was able to move freely and do what he wanted instead of being stuck in one spot eternally. To him, it was an escape. And a new and innovative way for him to show you how much he loves you.

In real life he can’t hide little trinkets or things around the house to make you happy or help your day, but in Minecraft? Expect love poems hidden in random chests he wrote in books (that you were going to use for enchanting tables…)

And any diamonds he finds he’s giving them to you.

“Hehehe… it’s like I’m proposing! …..I’m only kidding. Unless you want me to.”

Food? He’s got it. Wood? Already done. He color coded your beds so you each get a designated side. The green bed to the right of yours is his <3

Lowkey annoys the hell out of you. It’s part of his love language :)

You both have died many times due to him simply bonking your head and blocking your screen, trying to get your attention, or was too busy trying to make you laugh.

“Hey, c’mere. Hey. Why aren’t you coming over here? What are you doing? I can see your screen. COME HERE NOW!”

His shrill shout made you jump and lose the battle with a creeper.

“….oops.”

He displays a little “:<“ on his screen because he knows you think it’s cute. How can you be mad at him now?

“Edgar, you’re going and getting my stuff back.”

“Hnng, yeah, I guess I deserve that. :/“

Honestly, he just wants to roleplay a lovey-dovey domestic life with you. He built the house. And decorated it. Unsurprisingly, he’s quite good at building and has an eye for design.

He’ll still get a little jealous if you’re too focused on gameplay and not doting on him, though. If you bring his monitor over to the couch to play, he’s 100% expecting you to cuddle him. Lean your shoulder against him, please. Just let him know you’re there. He wants all of your attention.

“UGH… stupid blazes. I don’t like the nether. -_-“

Meanwhile you’re too focused on not dying via lava and losing all of your ender pearls and blaze powder. And he doesn’t like your attention being away from him! Give him a smooch on his plastic exterior please…. He’ll make flustered beeping sounds and might leave you alone for a while…

Okay he discovered note blocks. Now it’s your turn to whine for his attention. He’s too busy making a lil love song for you to help with literally anything else.

“Heh, I thought you wanted me to quit messing with you? Are you saying you miss me?”

And yet he continues to tinker away at his little red stone contraption. And of course this dude is godlike at red stone, I mean, he’s a computer. He’s the type to make fully fledged musical numbers with note blocks. But you’re playing survival so he doesn’t have enough materials to finish his song :C

I guess it’s back to the mines. And you tag along with him. His music is nice. His company is nice. And he’s gotten pretty good at killing creepers.

[heartofmortis]

✧ exile (what a ghostly scene)

. *. ⋆ Anakin / Vader x Reader

summary: you were bail organa’s ward, raised on alderaan with your younger sister. in the twilight of the clone war, you and anakin fell in love. when the war died, it dragged you and anakin to early graves with it — leaving only darth vader behind. even after years without you, he still wants you back. and there is nothing he would not do to bring you back to him. . .

tags: angst, tragic romance, suitless vader, no y/n, gn reader, inspired by the 2020 vader comics & vader immortal, past major character death, mourning, vader needs a hug, resurrection

note: my first reader/second person fic — i’m sorry if the tense is bad ajsjwjwjqjq. i’ve had this in my drafts for soooo long and i finally decided to finish it 🫶

word count: 1k

part 1 of 4

The stars have died, fizzling out into oblivion. All that remains is a charcoal heart that once belonged to Anakin Skywalker.

The boy from Tatooine is unreachable now, trapped inside the twisted soul of Darth Vader. The galaxy’s beloved Hero With No Fear is gone. With the rise of the Empire, the Jedi and their sympathisers will be erased from memory. A clean slate to start a new era.

Three years after the creation of the Empire, Darth Vader stands alone. His tower on Mustafar is isolating; its strategic position is a constant reminder of that day. His injuries still hurt sometimes: phantom itches on his now metal legs; scars from his burns that did not fully heal. The medical droids say he is lucky — the fire could have done more serious damage, and he could have been forced to rely on a suit keeping him alive for the rest of his days. Instead, the ebony coloured mask and suit he wears are to conceal his identity. A precaution so that Anakin Skywalker can fade from people’s tongues and memory, leaving the tyranny of Darth Vader in its place.

The weight of his failures is not the heaviest burden. Darth Vader drowns in his anger and grief. He was not strong enough to kill Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was not strong enough to save you.

(All things die. Even stars burn out.)

You were the stars in his sky, his light in the dark, the silvery moon to his blazing sun. So tender and kind. Perhaps your heart was too good for this world. Perhaps, it was your weakness all along. (How could peace ever love a dragon?)

Since you met, you had been Anakin’s sun. You anchored him; guided him home. You were his destiny. And, without you, the galaxy had turned cold. The fiery world outside, all hot air and lava fields, only stood as a reminder of his failure. He’d lost you. After everything Anakin had tried — surrendering himself to the dark side, betraying the light — he could not save you. Time had not quelled the pain.

Vader wonders if you would still recognise him. His copper hair has grown longer (he remembers how you used to cut it for him after he returned from another mission, and you’d giggle as you braided thin locks together), but his face hides behind an obsidian mask. You always loved the blue of Anakin’s eyes, but now they are blazing amber.

Mornings are the only time Vader allows himself to dwell on the past. It is when he finds himself alone and does not have to hide.

Vader recalls how you arrived on Mustafar like it was yesterday. (You haunt him every waking moment.) He could sense your conflicted emotions as soon as you disembarked your ship. Vader wasted no time approaching you, drawing you into his arms (where you belonged; where you were safe). His lips reconnected with yours, fitting together like puzzle pieces as he kissed you hungrily, his hands settled on your hips to keep you close.

You and Anakin had met after turning nineteen. He and Obi-Wan were called to Alderaan to protect the Queen and Viceroy from an assassination attempt. Being their ward, you had been there the whole time and quickly formed a connection with the young padawan — your relationship had blossomed during the Clone Wars.

He rested his forehead against yours as you spoke. “I heard terrible things. Tell me none of it is true.”

Vader hadn’t replied immediately and instead drew his head back to look at you. He would tell you any sweet lie if he needed to as he fought to quell the anger flaring in his eyes. “What have you been told?”

“Obi-Wan told me—”

Vader’s grasp around you tightened protectively. “Obi-Wan is alive?”

“He said you’d killed Jedi. Killed younglings.”

“You must not believe him, my love. He’s a traitor.”

It wasn’t the answer you sought, and you took a step backwards out of your husband’s grasp. “What have you done?”

“I did this for you. To save you.” He cupped your chin in his flesh hand and whispered your name. “I love you.”

Your eyes trained into his. There was no denial, no remorse in his stature; his only regret was letting Obi-Wan tell you anything.

He repeated his words. “I did this for you.”

From the shadows of your cloak, you drew a blaster. Only a small, weak thing. Vader watched your hands tremble. He did admire your courage. “Fix this,” you demanded. “Please,” you begged.

Anger flickered in Vader’s eyes. He had never seen you unimpressed with him. With an easy glide of his hand, Vader used the Force to knock the blaster out of your grip and pin your arms by your sides

“I am stronger than the Chancellor now,” he explained desperately, drawing you to his side. “I can overthrow him. Then you and I can be together; we can run away — just like you always wanted to.”

(But you didn’t. He lost you. Some might call you a traitor — Vader maintains that you were misguided.)

Three years later, regret still festers inside Vader’s hollow soul. There must have been a way to save you.

He misses you endlessly: craving your touch and the sound of your voice. (There is nothing Vader desires more than to have you back in his arms.)

Part of him wants to forget. To cast his memories of you into an abyss; to put the past behind him. But it is an impossible task. You are too well tangled into his soul. You haunt him. (And you’ll haunt him until his death.)

Today, there is no time to focus on you. A new morning brings meetings and training. You were Anakin’s Achilles Heel — but Darth Vader shows no such weakness. As Vader sits on his throne, reading over mission logs and other updates from the spread of the Empire across the galaxy, he receives a message: he must make his return to Coruscant immediately. (Your memory pulls him under the ocean again until he can no longer breathe.)

[magicdustsworld]

Redemption (2)

Levi Ackerman x Fem!Reader

Synopsis: Your professor is supposed to teach you the lessons to redeem oneself. Then... why does this lesson seems nothing like any other?

Tropes: Professor/Student, explicit smut

Warnings: Profanity, age gap(Levi is in his early to mid 30s, Reader is in early 20s), blackmail, dubious consent, nonconsensual groping, fellatio, cum swallowing, minimum prep, light bondage, hair pulling, videography, humiliation, degradation, spanking, orgasm denial, protected/rough, mind break, undertones of sadism and angst, absolute filth, mean!Levi, semi public, college/modern AU, no mentions of y/n.

Word count: 3.8k

Event: Part 2 submission for levievent day 10 - age differences.

A/N: please heed the warnings, some parts may be uncomfortable to read and Levi is portrayed in a very OOC manner.

Divider credits - @cafekitsune

|PREVIOUS|

"Very well," Levi takes a singular step towards you—only now, the intimate proximity starts to dawn. "Let's start with your first lesson on redemption."

You blink, too conscious about your attire and the enclosed room. Swallowing a lump, you ask "What lesson?"

"Do you have to be somewhere now or later tonight?"

Slightly do you tilt your head, raking through your schedule for tonight. Well, there's the frat house but that's easily skippable when your reputation and life is on the line. You shake your head, "No."

"Good," Said so, he pivots on his heel, locking the door and–

"Why did you lock it?"

A huff is incited akin to a laugh, a fact that sends a tremor down your spine. He turns to you, "As much of a harlot you are–" stepping up, he flicks the collar of your obscene uniform, trailing his fingertip to the button which barely concealed your modesty. He holds one of your breasts over your uniform, giving it a firm squeeze, "–I'd assume, you don't want an audience, or do you?"

All of a sudden, everything clicks.

"Excuse me?" You sneer, eyes flashing with a blaze as you grasp his wrist and immediately tear it off yourself. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? That's highly inappropriate."

Inappropriate, really?

In response, he can only pass you his impassive expression, "There's the brat again," he rolls his eyes, "Have the guts to speak about fucking appropriateness when you show up–" gray eyes rake over your figure so leacherously that you are forced to wrap your arms around yourself. "–like a walking advertisement for debauchery. Please," he scoffs, voice straining with disgust, "I have seen more modesty in a stripper."

The sting of the insult cut through you like a cold wind, chilling you to the core. On cue, you tighten your hold over yourself, trying to soothe the ache of the degradation with the brush of your thumb rubbing circles. Burns culminate over your cheeks, hot emotion welling up your eyes–threatening to fall any second. It's a constant struggle to put on the veneer of stablity.

Cold. It's too cold. Someone. Anyone. Just banish this chilling cloak that's heightening your senses.

Your pray is returned when Levi's calloused hand grips your jaw. It's warm. But it's too warm akin to boiling lava and it burns you, so you don't want this. You don't want any of this. Fingernails of yours dig into your arms with so much force that it breaks skin–drawing blood.

He forces you out of the reverie and when you gaze into his eyes, instead of indifference, you see darkness. So deep, so depraved that your inner instincts scream for you to run.

Leave. Run. Now.

His voice is a husky whisper when he speaks, "You show up like a slut, you will be treated like one." His hand descended down to your shoulder and just at the contact–

"No!" You choke out, fliching away from his touch as you stumble but regain balance. Breathing through your mouth, eyes are wide open as the dread of the inevitable grapples you. "St-Stay back, don't touch me."

He blinks, retracting his hand, "So that's how it's going to be," he mutters under his breath, sauntering past you and finally rope of suffocation around your neck loosens. No sooner does the breath of relief leaves you, his voice reaches your ears, "You can leave." He pauses, there's a click of something. "I'll meet you on Monday in the head office with the dean and your parents."

"What? No... y-you can't do t-that," Turning towards him, you are still holding yourself. Standing near his desk, Levi's gaze is stuck on both of your pictures, no try at shifting his attention at the real you. "You said, you'll give me a chance."

"And you're throwing that chance away. I am only left with the other option."

"That's no chance, that's exploitation! You're trying to take advantage of me."

His eyes flickers over to you now, "Am I?" The pause only makes the beating of your heart to accelerate. "And what if I am?"

"You can't do that."

Levi heaves a sigh, picking up the picture in which you're smoking the Marijuana, "You still don't get it, do you?" He asks, prompting a raise of your brows while his eyes are stuck on your photographed mien. The bliss of pure ecstasy clouding your eyes, a stark contrast to the fear sated gaze before him. "The days for you to pull the strings is over. Now–"

The waft of an unnatural wind wisps the picture from his hand—falling on the floor. His movements are poised– elegant even, feet squashing your photo, he strides to you, "I won't force you."

He extends his hand again and when it contacts with your skin—it's the same goosebumps as before. "We can forget any of this ever happened and meet after the weekend or..." The pads of his finger brushes over your collar bone to the back of your neck as he coils a strand of your hair in his fingers, "You can agree to let me teach you a lesson on redemption."

Said so, like an upcoming storm deflecting it's path, he backs away. No longer the touch pricks your skin, no longer you're suffocated with the palpable tension.

Tucking his hand inside his pockets, he finishes, "The choice is yours."

There is no choice here.

It's a straight up threat to either give into his perverse wishes or he'll make sure, your life is ruined beyond repair.

Stuck in between a rock and a hard place, there's only a handful of options laid before you.

You don't want this.

Curse to all the entities responsible for putting you in such a situation.

A depraved man and a desperate girl—there's only so much that can happen.

"I agree."

.

"This is the final warning, brat." Levi looks down on you, the vigour of a lofty frown stretched on his lips. "Do this properly and don't you dare use your teeth."

Never in your wildest dreams did you think you'll ever end up doing this. Forced to your hands and knees, before your professor with his legs spread wide, he pumps his manhood before your eyes. And God– isn't he huge? How can you ever take that? A thin trail of hair marks the the base of his shaft.  Momentarily, you are stupefied with the display of self-satisfaction, Levi bestows on himself; his manhood standing erect as a tempting exhibit.

"Get to it," On his command, you extend your hand, holding his cock by the base. Moving your palm over the glans skin, gathering the moisture in your mouth, you swirl your wet tongue over the tip—following the same method you do while you give anyone head.

Apparently, Levi isn't just anyone.

He clicks his tongue, threading his fingers through your head, he gives it a sharp tug; inciting a protesting groan from you. "None of that shit. Open your mouth, wide."

You don't have the time for that.

Levi is forcing his cock inside your mouth as you struggle to take him wholly. The sheer girth of it stretches your mouth to the maximum–jaw straining in an uncomfortable manner and the lack of lubrication on his member could only make it difficult to move your mouth against him. Giving yourself a minute, you hollow your cheeks, coating the skin with saliva as you start to move in a slow, steady pace.

A low hum of satisfaction escalates from him and you find yourself eager to please him. This is what you have to do. Please him. Satisfy him. Show him that you've the potential and finally be off the hook. You bob your head in a to and fro motion, gradually increasing the speed as he fills himself in your your wet cavern as much the muscles would allow. Guttural groans escapes him followed by a series of curses as his grip tightens over your hair, "Loosen your jaw, make sure I reach all the way."

Almost on instinct, you try to deepthroat him and your gag reflex comes to play. Tears spring up your eyes, trailing down your cheeks so does the drool as bile akin to acid rises up due to thr intense penetration. Quickly, you recoil back, giving yourself a minute to stabilize your breathing before starting your performance again. (Although mindful to not surpass your limits). Lapping his cock and sucking him all the way that the tip touches your uvula.

Salacious moan leaves his mouth, snapping his hips forward to meet your mouth while he guides you on his cock via your hair. "Mhmm, been upto this all the while cutting slack, huh? Agh– fuck, at least you learnt something useful, didn't you nasty little slut?"

The abjection pours down your ears making you suck in a breath. Yet, it still manages to send a shiver of pulse down your core. Shifting your focus onto giving him the stellar blowjob, you try to not think about about your arousal.

It will be over soon.

His cock twitches inside your throat. Fuck! He's close.

Levi's frame goes rigid–halting your movements as well, he holds you in place, nostrils near his pelvis. No sooner than you can comprehend, thick ropes of cum is shot down your throat.

"Swallow it all," He concedes and when you looked up, his pupils are dilated with wanton desire. "Don’t you dare let any of that filth drop on me."

Like clockwork, you follow. The musky, mettalic taste of his cum gathers on your tongue, you know better than to let it rest. Therefore, you swallow it down–each and every drop he has to offer.

Finally, you are let go off his cock with a pop sound, leaning back, you flutter your eyelids shut. The stench of his ecstasy still lingers in the air and the sudden removal of  his cock from your mouth leaves you empty. You grasp your jaw, pressing the area to soothe the ache.

Levi's grip loosens from your strands as ragged breaths escapes him while he slumps down on his chair. His chest rises and falls in a rhythm, he looks down on you with half lidded eyes. And shit! He looks hot for the wrong reasons. From the expression that haunts his handsome face, its apparent you did a good job.

Shouldn't you be praised a little?

You have little time to complain before Levi is standing up from the chair, grabbing hold of your bicep, he pulls you up to your feet. "Hey– ah!"

Not a second later, you're being slammed onto the mahogany desk. Tits spilling out of your uniform, squashed on the sleek surface due to his manhandling. He yanks both of your wrists back, holding them via his left hand.

Click!

You try to turn around at the unusual sound—attempt proving to be futile with the way your body is twisted. However, your curiosity is brought to a rest when something foreign starts to slid around your wrist. Its his belt? Narrow and smooth leather yet the rough edges starts to dig into your skin. Levi wraps the object around your wrist multiple times–his pace, rushed yet precise–before securing it with the click of his buckle.

"Ugh– fuck! Why would you do that? " Objection quickly flows out as you tug on the restraints—tight.

He doesn't bother looking at you, eyes trained on the curve of your ass and the way your legs are positioned. Just perfect. Calloused palm grips your hips, brushing over the mesh of your skirt, "A birdie told me you were planning to run away." He says with mock amusement although the neutrality stays plastered on his mien. "Can't have my precious student running off in the middle of a lesson now, can I?"

"I wouldn't—"

"Quiet."

He hauls your excuse of a skirt upto your ass, the hint of a smirk slipping off when he notices the very obvious wet splotch on your panties. Filthy little slut. He yanks it down with a force that might have ripped it. Delving two of his fingers over your folds, he checks for the wetness; trailing it to draw circular motions over your swollen nub.

"Ahh– yes," your hips buckle, eager to feel more friction, a faint moan escaping from you. However, he retracts his hand and you let out a whine. In a way to just feel thr stimulus, you try to clamp your legs only to be greeted by a harsh slap on your pussy. "Aghh–"

"Keep them wide open like a good little whore."

He's enjoying it, you know. Toying with you, reducing you to a mere plaything at his disposable. You've never hated your professor as much as you do now for leaving you begging for more. You've never hated yourself as much as you do now for letting him do this yo you.

You can hear some shuffling before the ripping of a packet, soon Levi's latex sheathed cock head is pressing on your folds.

"Here's your first lesson," he grabs hold of a chunk of your hair, rotating your nape to face him. When you do, the least bit of self-esteem is discarded, his eyes are darkened with lust. Looking down on you like a predator to its quarry, "No crying, no moaning, no calling my name, nothing. I don't want to hear a sound." He jerks your head back, making you yelp aloud, "Is that fucking clear?"

It's painful to respond when he has such a vile grip on your hair, still you manage a nod.

Levi positions himself in your entrance, your saliva still lingers on his cock and wetness has gathered on your cunt. You don't need anymore lubrication. He retains you in a single position, clutching your hips before he is plunging inside.

"Agghh! Wait– eeeek– stop, ahh—" The burn surges through your cunt, excruciating hell befalling on you as Levi, quite literally, forces himself inside. It's no wonder he was big and the lack of proper preparation causes tears to spring up your eyes.

Once, he is buried to the hilt, he pulls back till the tip before thrusting himself inside—filling you up again. You shriek, nails digging into the palm of your hands while he sets a relentless pace; rendering you breathless. "Wait, aghh– Levi I– Ah!"

A harsh slap is delivered on your asscheeks and Levi clicks his tongue, "Can't even follow one rule, can you? And calling me by my name, where the hell is your manners, brat?" Said so, he smacks your bottom again—harder than last time. Using your binded hands as a leverage, he pulls you up, breath fanning near your earlobe, he snarls, "What did I tell about making a noise?"

The tears roll down your cheek. All of it hurts. From the way he is bullying your cunt upto his comfort and the slaps he confers upon your asscheeks. It hurts but fuck! You suck in a lofty breath, mouth wide open as the drool runs down your cheek. Why does it feel so good?

"Oi," He grabs your hairs again, yanking your head back with all the force he can conjure. Or maybe its just the half of it. "When I ask you something, you answer. Got that?"

"Yes."

"Yes, what?"

You breath in, "Yes sir."

That's more like it.

That's what Levi wanted to say but that could give you the benefit of doubt. So, why should he?

You bit into your lips, trying to stop all the lascivious moans threatening to be released. A task proving to be a hassle with the way Levi was wrecking you open. Six inches plunging deep inside, he was deadset on ruining you beyond repair. Cheeks dampened with tears, your chest heaved up and down from a moment of reprieve. The erotic encounter seems to grow more brutal as the seconds pass. As if he liked to see you curse and whimper in this pain. Liked the look on your face whenever the pace would get merciless. (Something which he keeps all the way through)

Too far down the lane, you don't even register the strings of profanities accompanied by the absolute filth Levi speaks down your ears.

Velvet walls clamps down on his cock and just now, Levi notices the articulation of pure bliss on your face. He hates it. Still with your luscious strands in his hold, he unlocks his drawer—bringing out his phone. Unlocking it, he swiped to the video mode.

"Smile for the camera, slut."

Only then you notice the flashing of the device on your face. Eyelashes dampened with tears, the same rolling down your cheeks, drool falling off your lip and tits on full display, if someone you didn't know saw you right now, they would actually take you to be a slut.

"Lesson number two," Levi's voice reverberates in your ears as he leans to your level, "Acknowledgement. Go on, speak about all of your crimes," He presses on, forcing your face to be seen on the camera. "Why are you being fucked stupid, huh?"

"Si-Sir this isn't–"

"Speak."

The humiliation of the act gnaws at the recesses of your soul (or what is left of it). The derisive tone and taunting play only pushes you further into an oblivion of decadence. More tears escapes your eyes as again the sheer powerlessness of yourself in this arragement starts to dawn inside of you.

"Go on. Accept what you did."

You force a smile on your lips, looking at the camera as Levi looms over you, "I- I've been cutting slack– nghh– and wasting time with sm-smoking weed and drinking past aghh– my limit–"

"And?"

"An-and, I- I tried to ahh– te-tempt my professor. So h-he is teaching me a- aghh– lesson i-in learning." You aren't even aware of half the things that leaves your mouth now, too drunk on lust and the slick running down your thighs—you are already broken beyond repair.

Levi turns off his phone, tossing it to the drawer. He leaves your hair, grasping you by the hips again. He increase his pace, sweat glistening over his forehead and hair as it drips down on your skin. The sound of skin slapping echoes through each and every corner of the room, the combined acrid stench of arousal and slick wafting around.

He slams his hips against yours, "You like being treated like this, huh? Like a horny little slut begging to be degraded and used?"

All the overwhelming feelings clouds your judgement, blurring the lines between right and wrong, fantasy and reality as if the power of thinking is stripped off of you. "Ahh— yes, I do."

"Shit! You are sucking me in like a bitch in heat," His taunting words makes no sense anymore. The erotegenic exchange between his body and yours renders you to the deepest corners of a dark tale. "Mhmph, bet you haven't been fed a real cock right? First time, agh– no wonder you're going haywire with a little pain, fuck! A-ain't that right, whore?"

Wasn't this always supposed to happen?

Weren't you always just this? Just a cocksheath meant for other's pleasure? The desk creaks due to the continued onslaught. It's like you can see yourself from an omnious eye, reduced to nothing but a crying mess under the aggressive mimistrations of your professor. The hollowness settles in you, even the pain from moments ago seems to fade just as the humanity is swept from your eyes. You can hear a girl's voice, much like your own—asking for more, to be filled up, to be left as nothing but a broken doll.

Humorous, she is. How pitiful to willingly ask for to be treated like a rag doll? Could never be you.

Levi snakes his arm under one of your knees, raising it up—reaching faster and deeper inside your warm cavern. Velvet walls clamp tight around him, a knot forming in the pit of your stomach, begging to explode any second and with the ruthlessness he is bestowing upon you. You don't think you'll last longer. With the other hand, he reaches over to your pussy running with juices with yours and his. He brushes over your clit, rubbing circular motions and like that you're pushed over the edge.

"Hold it." It's funny how compliance has become second nature. It's okay. It's fine. You'll have your moment soon. Just– just please him now and you will rewarded soon enough. The thought alone helps you to withstand the painful event of stranding your orgasm. What's more insane is the sheer delight that comes with the pain.

And then you smile. Giggle even. What is happening with you?

As for Levi, he doesn't even care with all the shit you're blabbering and the dumb, drooling, giggling mess you are reduced to. He thrusts into you a few more times, the knot untangling in his abdomen as he reaches the peak of his ecstasy—emptying himself in the condom.

He pulls away and all of a sudden, like a bucket of cold water is thrown over you, you regain your senses.

"Get out." He says, pulling off the filthy latex sheath and discarding it in the trashcan.

What?

You blink, craning your neck to him, "Wa-wait, I haven't—"

"Third and last lesson for tonight," Levi stares down at you, all the serenity of releasing his frustration on you vanished from his mien. The same darkened expression from previous haunts his eyes again, "Repentence. You gain something, you lose something."

Said so, he unbuckles his belt from your wrists, tucking his attire in a proper manner. Without sparing you a glance, he is saunters to the window.

"Get the fuck out of here."

.

Six months later

.

Hitch's eyes are wide open when she sees the rank list.

Chugging down her drink, she calls your number. As soon as the signal connects, she is speaking before you could have the chance to say hello.

"Girl, you gotta teach me your ways." Her voice is akin to a high pitched chirp, she continues, "How the hell did you manage to bag a position in the top ten?"

Silence for a minute stretches in, then you laugh.

"Maybe, I just went through a redemption arc."

[sweeteaacakes]

C-can I asked for a stupid headcan about them playing Minecraft

♡》 WHB Kings Playing Minecraft.

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° Sorry it took long~ I ended up writing some for the nobles too... but had to cut only for the kings because it would be too much.

»»-----------►

Satan

The griefer. He would pull out TNTs whenever he felt like it or light things on fire. It's an impulse.

Mining? Explosion. Fishing? Explosion. Building houses? Explosion.

His inventory has common things like flints and lava buckets.

You'd think he have a diamond sword, diamond armors or things like that until he pulls out a fucking rod.

Correction: enhanced blaze rod.

It has a knockback, fire aspect so it'll burn whoever is hit, sharpness, smites, bane of arthropods. You call it.

He has another one which is an ordinary rod that just deals damage and knockback.

Would use it with the people in his server occasionally. The nobles are eager to be the target of it.

Uses it to Mammon every time they meet and Mammon retaliates.

Despite being a griefer, he takes care of building and when the nobles told him he can find various materials he started mining and building along with others.

Paimon recommended using mods so he can have a motorbike in game. He is having fun building rails and riding minecarts.

“Expert” in redstone (aka puts it to everywhere + tnt + flint)

His playmode sways here and there but he has the most creative ideas when it comes to building.

Mammon

He traveled far and wide until he found the biome Badlands where there are mineshafts and golds.

Mammon is good at building and always experiments on various materials.

He always has treasures with him.

Either he takes whatever treasure is in the chest or leaves some. You better keep your stuffs in the ender chest :x

Eligos has to tell him many times to not make armors and weapons out of gold because it's not efficient when it comes to battle! TToTT)

So he just made a golden statue… various golden statues and some are built using redstones.

Mammon probably managed to put his ability in-game thanks to that.

He can activate giant hands in his server and they work as defensive walls.

if he is not in the server, he wears enhanced armors and weapons plus have many stacks of enhanced golden apple.

Implied a policy that in-game currency isn't exchangeable outside because a certain someone would have taken advantage of it.

People who can't afford a better computer can't enter Tartaros. Not because they have to pay to enter but because of the massive and detailed buildings that will overheat their computer TT-TT)

And when I tell you massive, I mean it obscures the sun. As if it was made by grand masters of constructions that will tell you “it's the average”.

They have a mod installed which allows them to have an advanced technology.

The server has a giant wall that resembles Mammon’s giant hand.

Ahem He dedicated a golden statue of MC’s bottom ♡

Leviathan

Since he can't hang someone in-game Leviathan uses instant-kill. They're gonna respawn anyway so no big deal.

I would say they have a mod to have tombs but… I can imagine Hades’ server to be proficient in potion making and animal taming.

Leviathan spends most of his time exploring other biomes such as nether, caves, ocean. Unlike in the outside world, in-game he can explore freely with minor accidents :3

He has a castle in each of the biomes.

I can tell he would love the Cherry Grove, Ice Spikes and even Savannah where there are many animals TTwTT)

He tames animals. Even tries taming monsters but those who hurt him are quickly dealt with. No hard feelings.

He seems like someone who doesn't care but he actually has insane armors, weapons and potions for competitive games.

Goes to another server from time to time carrying potions of invisibility.

Have more chances to stumble with Beelzebub than the Avisos’ nobles lol

Quickly log-out if it happens.

Beelzebub

Aye! The wandering king! Even in-game, he still wanders server to server.

His clones play too so you'll find him in various servers once at time.

You'll probably find him in unexpected places too…

He… have a fucking rod as a weapon TToTT)

Like… not a blaze rod like Satan… a FISHING ROD.

Yeah, it's enhanced. He forgot how he did it or what he put in it. He fucked around and find things out lol.

If you find him somewhere, there'll be a chance that he'll tag along with you and he suddenly disappears just like how you found him.

Just like outside, he still create unexplainable phenomena in-game TToTT

Lucifer

Just here to have fun~

Gamigin and Jjok helped him to get in creative mode so he can just fly around and stuffs~

He is just there to relax~

He builds here and there but is very slow because he needs to figure out.

So being in creative mode helps a lot so he won't have to search for them.

He goes in player mode though because he wants to feel the fun of actually playing it with others.

He does suck on mining…

Dies a lot…

He was mining and drowned in lava.

He drowned.

Fell on high places.

✨️Dumb Ways To Die✨️

He was flustered when he found out that there are wings in Minecraft! Gamigin was worried it would bring him bad memories but Lucifer didn't mind it.

He found it fun learning to fly again in a game. He crashed in various places until he got used to the control.

Belphegor

In AFK

Uses the game as background music while he does other stuff outside.

You know those videos of relaxing Minecraft music for 10 hours? Those

Don't bother to fight him. He cheats.

Asmo

Doesn't log-in often.

But when he does it's for hook-ups.

He prefers to feel the real thing and isn't very much in roleplay, especially when it comes to games.

Have various potions with him that he throws whenever he feels like.

I imagine him building a garden house? Lucifer like that. They hang together without speaking.

He builds the most questionable thing. Like strange things.

»»———-　　———-«

Author Note: Asmodeus and Belphegor's are short there isn't much known about them but I wanted to include them too TT-TT)~ Thanks for the ask ♡ I don't get much often so it's always appreciated:3

[temis-de-leon]

Requited unrequited love - 500 F.C.

Characters: Satan x fem!reader

Main Masterlist

500 followers masterlist

Requested by: @tinyweebsstuff

CW: misunderstandings, insecurities, jealousy. MC is afraid to fail in front of Satan and doesn't talk to him, which makes her sure that he doesn't like her; meanwhile, Satan thinks MC doesn't like him because she doesn't talk to him

.

Winter in the Devildom, as MC soon had the need to learn, showed mercy to no one, especially her. It numbed her fingers and her nose, froze her eyelashes and made her sleep restless; no amount of blankets could shield her from the cold nights in the House of Lamentation and she’d already burned her tongue more than once for drinking her tea straight out of the kettle.

She expected Hell to be a vast terrain built on molten lava and drenched in hot, humid, ashen air, but she couldn’t be more wrong. While spring and autumn were enjoyable and summer left her at least the few hours of the night to go out, winter gave her no such truce.

Knowing that her demon classmates suffered almost as much as her was her only consolation prize and maybe that was the reason why sitting on the ground with all of them during alchemy felt more like a bonfire between friends than a lesson.

The blue fire in front of them warmed the entire classroom, silky blaze licking the wooden ceiling without any threat and casting a hypnotizing light that helped nothing in keeping them awake. One of her classmates was hugging her arm, already half unconscious on her shoulder, and MC had to gather all of her strength to not rest her head on top of her friend’s to do the same. Satan was sitting next to her and, although his entire body faced the professor and the blackboard, his eyes remained fixed on her figure.

What was he thinking? He was obviously waiting, expecting her to say something about what their teacher was showing them. The lesson about Hellfire had occupied almost two weeks of their syllabus, starting in its birth, its short life in the human realm and all the uses across the Devildom, which included, of course, the existent types and those available to unauthorized public.

The one with highest temperature displayed an unnatural toxic green, a colour she’d never seen before, and only a limited number of high ranked officials could use it. Since peace roamed the Devildom, the rest of civilians could only see it in national festivities and celebrations, like Dia’s birthday.

Then there was the blue fire, the closest she’d been to the human summer sky in months. It needed supervision and experience in pyromancy, but no written permission. Lucifer had even showed it to her a couple of days ago, amused at her amazement while his brothers stared unimpressed. A certain blond, irritated at Lucifer’s inflated ego, had asked her with a strained voice if such thing existed in the human realm.

And MC could’ve told him the truth and talk about the interactions between hydrogen, oxygen and sulphur during combustion. An exothermic reaction she’d only seen in the lab under her teacher’s watchful eye and in pictures from the Ijen volcano in Indonesia.

She could’ve drawn the pathways in detail, every letter, number and line that lead to that phenomenon.

She could’ve shown her knowledge with excited intensity, letting him see her brain. The rules of the world, like recipes, following an order that gave sense to everything. Chemical elements, organic and manmade, combining and disintegrating amongst each other, against each other. Making her heart beat irregularly whenever he entered a room, keeping her awake at night thinking about him, fearing the possibility of disappointing him.

He had looked at her those couple of days ago, ignoring Lucifer’s magic, and he had asked her a simple question.  

“I don’t know” she had said in return, lying through her teeth.

Bile rose up her throat at the self-betrayal, the part of her brain that spent hours studying strange names and complicated reactions begging her to tell him the truth while her lovesick heart forced her to keep quiet.

MC couldn’t bear the idea of failing in front of him, especially in something she knew was her expertise. How stupid would she look then?

Not in a million years.

Her classmate suddenly pulled her out of her memories when he moved his head, groaning in deep slumber and hugging her arm tighter. Satan snarled beside her, bothered and disappointed.

What did he want from her exactly?

In the end, as minutes passed, the professor finally, thankfully, understood that no one was in right conditions to pay attention and let everyone enjoy the warmth of the Hellfire while offering individual tutoring for those interested.

With extreme care, trying not to wake him up, MC moved his friend’s head from her shoulder and placed it on his backpack. The sigh of his squished cheek and drool pooling under him made her chuckle and wonder, not for the first nor the last time, how did she end up being friends with creatures she didn’t even knew existed until months ago.

“Are you both close?”

Satan was looking at her, at her friend, keeping a neutral expression that left her no room to think of an appropriate response. MC tried to avoid his gaze by looking at his notebook and the details of his diagrams and his tidy handwriting, but he closed it, hiding it under his thigh to claim her attention again.

“He’s a nice friend” she said after letting out a long sigh.

Something shifted in his eyes at her words, but MC couldn’t identify it. He seemed softer all of a sudden and her heart did a backflip when she noticed, breath faltering for just a second before forcing her to keep the conversation going.

“Only during classes, though… I hardly see him outside of RAD”

“And would you want to?”

“Oh?”

He stared at her expectantly, leaning forward to keep the conversation private. Half of the group was fast asleep on the ground and their whispers were only subdued by the voices of the professor and a couple of other students.

The blue light reflected in his pupils, pulling her in, but his question confused her.

“I don’t know, it would be nice, I guess?” MC shrugged “We don’t have that much in common, so I don’t know what we would do”

“And what things do you like?”

Once again, his question threw her out of the blue. His eager eyes, although cautious, followed her every movement; he was also subtly nodding his head as if to encourage her to answer.

This was her chance, wasn’t it? Lying about her capabilities would only make her feel worse, but what if she couldn’t prove them? What if he asked something that she couldn’t answer?

“Chemistry is interesting”

She tried to appear nonchalant, ignoring the submission in her voice. It wasn’t a lie and she wasn’t giving too much, which was enough for the moment. Maybe, in the future…

“Oh, that’s great!” he exclaimed, rolling his eyes at the groans of discomfort from the rest of the group. Satan opened his notebook, immediately finding a page full of not so pretty scribbles and colourful doodles. He showed it to her, but moved with such excitement that MC couldn’t read it properly. “I got curious about the blue fire and bought some human books. It has something to do with sulphur, I’m not exactly sure how, but it does make a lot of sense. See, humans always used sulphur to keep demons away”

“And how do you use it if it keeps you away?”

“How do you use red fire if it burns you?”

“I guess that makes sense”

He chuckled, sitting closer to her so he could show his research. MC’s cheeks got warmer and a smile appeared in her face with no intention of vanishing. She saw, out of the corner of her eye, the blush that tainted his skin, which made her grin grew even wider.

“The books are in my room, so… If you ever want to check them out…”

“I’d love that!”

.

The other students loudly shushed them, getting a final shush back from the teacher.

MC looked at Satan, who smiled just as happy as her. She wondered if anyone there could hear the beating of her heart, its thuds against her ribcage, but, after seeing Satan’s blush one more time, she discovered that she didn’t care one bit.

.

[hiding-in-my-blanket-fort]

I'm feeling in a feisty mood tonight so I'm foisting my sub Captain John Price x domme F!Reader headcanons on you. If that's not your jam, don't read below the cut!

Minors, away with you.

TW: NSFW. D/s elements, orgasm denial, light bondage, light impact play, unprotected PiV (wrap it up!).

Masterlist | Part Two

Listen. John carries a lot of responsibility on his broad shoulders and he really struggles to shut his brain off. He definitely doesn't show his submissive side to just anyone.

So, it's going to take a lot of time and a lot of trust before you gradually get him to open up and relax.

Having said that, John isn't opposed to being submissive. He's not accustomed to being in that position, but he's not averse to the idea. In fact, he likes the way your face lights up with confidence when you're the one in charge.

It's no secret that John is a big dude. Muscular. Strong as an ox. No matter your body type - slim, curvy, tall, short - he knows he COULD overpower you, but the fact that he's willing to surrender that power into your capable hands is a HUGE turn on for him (and you!)

You really made progress one day when you were in the bath and John came home from a mission, exhausted, bruised, and filthy. He took one look at the you - his love, the light of his life smiling so sweetly at him - and practically crumpled to his knees.

When you held out your arms, he stripped off his clothes as quickly as possible and melted into your embrace.

You washed the grime from his body, brushing sweet, soft kisses along his clean skin. As you wash his hair, massaging his scalp, he gives this deep, low sound of contentment in the back of his throat and slides deeper into the water, leaning against you.

With the slightest tug on his hair, you pull his head to the side and expose his neck, trailing kisses, tonguing at his pulse. With your other hand, you glide your palm down his chest, wrapping around his half-hard cock.

John is putty in your hands as you stroke him, his eyes closed, letting you lavish him with attention and pleasure. Under normal circumstances, he would have had you pressed up against the wall, his cock buried inside you within minutes.

But this time, you hold him, sucking at the thin skin of his neck, murmuring softly in his ear how happy you are to have him home, how strong he is for you, what a good man he is and he deserves this.

After that, something new seems to open up between the two of you.

When you're getting ready for bed, John has a book paperwork spread across his lap, a frown beginning to form between his eyebrows. You know that look - concentration and the burden of duty weighing down his mind.

So you forego putting on your pajamas and you push the paperwork aside. When John tries to protest, you silence him with a kiss and straddle him. He chuckles mingled with a small noise of surprise when you pin his wrists above his head.

"Is that the way we're going to play tonight, love?"

"You'll have to find out, Captain."

When he hooks an arm around your waist and sits up - his go-to move to flip you over and fuck you into the mattress - you push him back down with a hand on his chest.

"No. Stay."

His eyebrows shoot up but oh...the look in his eyes.

Lust. Hot, blazing, molten lava levels of lust.

"That sounds like an order, sweetheart," he replies, his hands skimming up your legs, curving over your hips.

You take his hands by the wrists again and slowly, pointedly, pin them above his head again, holding his gaze the whole time.

"It is," you counter. "You better obey. I wouldn't want you to be...punished...for disobeying orders."

He breathes a faint laugh and flexes his arms a few inches off the mattress - just to remind you that even though you have him pinned, it doesn't mean a damn thing. He could easily turn the tables on you if he wanted to.

But what he wants is to see you like this.

Confident. Bold. Sexy. Telling him what to do and taking your pleasure from him that he is so willing to give.

You grasp John's chin and look into his eyes.

"Are you going to be good for me?" you whisper.

John's hands tighten into fists. Just for a moment. Then you see the shift that comes over him as he very slowly relaxes into the mattress. After what feels like the longest moment on planet earth, he gives the slightest nod.

You beam at him. "Excellent choice, Captain."

After using one of his ties to bind his wrists to the headboard, you proceed to kiss down his body, paying extra attention to places where he sucks in a breath or shifts - a dead giveaway that he's ticklish, or particularly sensitive in that area.

By the time you're at his hips, his sweatpants are tented from his cock. His chest is heaving, his eyes lidded as he gazes down at you. While you hook your fingers into the waistband of his pants, you look up at him, watching the way his breath hitches and his lips part.

Lowering his sweatpants, you give a pleased little smile and bite your lip.

"Look at you, Captain. So eager and leaking for me but I haven't even touched you yet."

With your gaze on his, you lower the tip of your tongue to the head of his cock. As soon as you make contact, John's entire body tenses. The tie strains at his wrists. He arches his hips upward, trying desperately to get more friction from your mouth.

You laugh so sweetly at him and pull your tongue away.

"Sit still. No squirming. If you don't behave, no orgasms for you tonight."

John groans and tilts his head back with a muttered fuck very softly under his breath.

When you tongue his cock again, it takes EVERY ounce of his strength for John to sit still like you told him to. The way his breathing grows shallow suggests he's having a difficult time not giving the orders around here.

You tease him with your mouth, your fingers, your tongue, your teeth until a thin sheen of sweat covers his body.

That crease between his eyebrows, laden with duty and responsibility, is definitely gone now. The tendons in his neck are straining though and judging by the muscles bulging in his arms, you're honestly surprised the headboard is still in tact.

You scrape your teeth over John's hip until he flinches with a small strangled what the fuck?

"I think you deserve your reward now, don't you?"

John opens his mouth to reply but only a puff of air comes out. You rise up on your knees, hovering over him, lining his cock up at your entrance.

His gaze is locked on that space between your thighs where his cock is an inch away from touching. He can feel the heat radiating from your body but goddamn it, you're not moving and it's driving him crazy.

"Honey," he just barely manages to rasp with frustration.

"Come on, John. You're a gentleman, aren't you? And a gentleman always asks permission before he fucks a lady."

"Jesus," he croaks, shifting his gaze toward the ceiling.

You're enjoying this...far too much. You've never seen John quite like this - strung out and straining and barely capable of putting together a coherent sentence.

You swipe the tip of his cock through your folds.

John just about loses his damn mind. His whole body clenches.

"Say the word and I'm yours," you croon sweetly, as if you haven't absolutely wrecked John with your teasing for the past forty minutes.

He lets out a choked laugh of disbelief because you are usually the one who's begging in bed with him. Not the other way around.

So, just to remind him who's in charge, you slot his cock just inside your entrance. If he tries to thrust up into you, all you do is shift away and he can't get inside. It's maddening.

Then... "Love...please..." he says through gritted teeth.

You smile and touch his cheek, dragging your thumb over his lips. And you sink down, oh so slowly, onto his length.

The guttural sound he makes is deep and gravelly and my god, you've never heard anything sound so good in your life.

See part two for more!

[reaper2187]

Verosika x female hell hound reader

In the infernal depths of Hell, beneath layers of bubbling lava and acrid smoke, you stood tall as a Hellhound, your fiery mane flowing around your shoulders. Your keen senses detected a faint heartbeat, leading you to a desolate corner of the underworld. As you approached cautiously, a crimson silhouette emerged from the shadows.

It was Verosika Mayday, the enigmatic Succubus. Her piercing emerald eyes fixed upon you, their gaze both alluring and predatory. Her crimson hair cascaded over her shoulders like a silken waterfall, contrasting with her pale, porcelain skin.

'Well, well, what have we here?' Verosika purred, her voice a seductive melody. 'A Hellhound... and a rather fine one at that.'

You growled instinctively, your hackles raised. 'Stay back, succubus. I have no interest in your games.'

A playful chuckle escaped Verosika's lips. 'Oh, but my dear, I think you might. Don't you find me... enticing?'

With a flick of her wrist, the air around you grew heavy with the scent of intoxicating perfumes. Verosika's eyes gleamed seductively as she traced her finger along your cheek.

'I've always had a weakness for your kind,' she whispered. 'The way you surrender to your instincts... it's exhilarating.'

Your resolve began to crumble, the allure of Verosika's presence proving too strong. You found yourself leaning into her touch, your body responding instinctively to her predatory instinct.

'You know you want me,' Verosika whispered, her voice now a siren call. 'Let me show you the depths of my passion.'

With trembling hands, you reached out and tangled your fingers in her hair. Verosika smiled, her eyes now filled with a predatory hunger. She pulled you closer, her lips brushing against your ear.

'You belong to me now,' she murmured. 'And I will claim you... body and soul.'

In that moment, the walls of hell melted away, replaced by a realm of unbridled passion. Verosika's touch burned like wildfire, igniting a primal flame within you. You kissed her deeply, her tongue dancing against yours, awakening a sensual ecstasy that you had never experienced before.

Hours turned into days as you indulged in a whirlwind romance with Verosika. She showed you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams, her seductive nature entrancing you completely. But beneath the alluring surface, a darker truth began to emerge.

Verosika's affection proved to be as fleeting as the flames that illuminated the underworld. As her company bored, she sought out new thrills, casting you aside like a discarded plaything. The passion you had once shared turned into an unbearable agony.

You realized that you had fallen prey to Verosika's manipulative game. She had used her charm to ensnare you, only to discard you the moment her amusement waned.

Heartbroken and betrayed, you vowed revenge. Donning your Hellhound armor, you confronted Verosika, your eyes blazing with fury. A fierce battle ensued, the flames of hell illuminating the clash between your righteous anger and her treacherous nature.

In the end, you emerged victorious. You had broken Verosika's illusion and defeated her insidious plan. As the flames subsided, you stood tall, a scarred but resolute Hellhound. The pain of betrayal still lingered, but a newfound strength coursed through your veins.

From that day forward, you became known throughout Hell as the Hellhound who had conquered the Succubus Queen. No longer would you succumb to the allure of false promises. You had learned a bitter lesson, and you would never forget the pain Verosika Mayday had inflicted upon you.

[techsole-blog]

Lava Blaze X 5G Price, Official Look, Design, Specifications, Camera, Fe...

[starlost-mochi-x]

the fast lane : part 2 (bangchan x reader x felix)

Summary: Welcome to the world of underground street racing. Chan is known for his flashy cars and confident attitude. You're new to the racing scene, eager but inexperienced. Felix is known for his sneaky tactics and charming demeanour. What happens when all three of your worlds collide?

Warnings: skz racer!au, fluff, mentions of blood, injuries, passing out (very light stuff tho, nothing detailed), angsty reader hours, wc 3.3k

series masterlist

part 2 : the lollipop

Y/n stormed into the backstage area, whipping around on her heel and slamming the two-way door shut behind her. The doorframe creaked as she slid down against it. Frustrated, angry tears burned in her eyes.

Retrieving the second-hand helmet tucked under her arm, she tossed it across the dimly lit room. It landed with a quiet clunk onto the floor, rolling a few metres away before coming to rest against the leg of an old, worn-out, leather sofa.

Y/n groaned and slid further down the doorframe, limp hair mussing in tangles against the wood of the door. Her back hurt from the awkward position and her leather suit chafed uncomfortably against her sweat-slicked skin, but she couldn't have cared less.

A few hot tears spilled down her cheeks, adding to the wet saltiness of her face and jawline. Squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as she possibly could, Y/n attempted to forget the memory. Making the deal with Chan, the best street racer in the city. Being so overconfident and sassy to him, positive she'd place a win, only to have spun out in the last few seconds of the race. She kicked herself mentally. How she have gotten so confident? She was a mere rookie, a beginner in the racing scene. And yet she had had the guts to pretend like she was one of THEM, dressed in an expensive, tailored racing suit, with a flashy, colorful car and a personal pit crew at the ready to respond to every whim and command.

On top of all of that, she couldn't believe she had accepted the deal wit Chan. She should have turned it down and made a name for herself. She should have let him know that she could stand on her own two feet, and that she could become one of them. It was likely, she realised, that if she had won and accepted a choice of racecar from Chan, he would have used it against her as leverage in every possible scenario. Y/n was disgusted at her gullibility and eagerness. She'd gotten so hasty that she'd forgotten all the implications and consequences that came with attempting to become a street racer.

As soon as her car had pulled to the side, Y/n had thrown open the rusty car door and fled to the backstage room, shoving through the crowd in her haste. The jeers and whooping from the other racers, coupled with the burning embarrassment and the cheers for the racer who'd actually won accumulated and swirled around her in a thick fog of shame, pathetic self-pity, and hopelessness, seeping into her bones and taking hold of her senses till it seemed that failure was woven into every single fibre of her being.

She couldn't shake the images from her mind. Chan, standing at the winner's podium, surrounded by adoring fans, raising a fist in blazing triumph. The almost sympathetic look he'd given her as she'd fled the arena. The steely glare and the tuts from the maintenance crew she'd paid for the night. The consistent, nagging feeling that she shouldn't have tried, shouldn't have gone further than simply entertaining the thought of being a street racer.

More than that, she felt humiliated.

Curling her knees to her chest, Y/n buried her face between them, inhaling the stale scent of leather and sweat. Everything was a colossal mess. If she was lucky, then maybe the universe would crack open beneath her feet and swallow her up in thick, molten rivers of lava and fiery tongues of flame. It would be better than having to face the entire arena of racers who had watched her lose her first race. Better than having to walk out, head hung in shame. She could already hear the taunts and jeers, though if they were from the racers milling around outside the backstage area or her own brain, she wasn't sure.

Look, it's that overconfident rookie!

She really thought she could win against Chan... what a joke...

If she's smart, she won't come back here.

The two-way door against Y/n's back suddenly swung open, sending her tumbling to the floor. Her head hit the dirty linoleum with an unpleasant thud. The world spun and she groaned, eyes shut. Hands flying to the sides of her head, she slowly opened her eyes, wincing. She could see two legs and the top of a pair of combat boots, all sheathed in dark, shiny leather, and further up-

Oh shit!

Flying bolt upright, Y/n turned and profusely apologized to the man standing in the doorway. Her knees hurt from the speed at which she'd whipped around on them but she ignored it, still blinded by the dazing pain in her head. Her cheeks flushed bright scarlet.

The man raised an eyebrow, pulling out something thin and white from between his lips. Y/n blinked, thinking it was a cigarette, but upon closer inspection, she could see the thin, white stick of a lollipop. He poked it back into his mouth, sucking on it thoughtfully. He didn't seem even mildly put out by the fact that Y/n had been staring up his crotch just a few moments earlier.

He was quite handsome, too. Maybe even a bit more than Chan. Somewhere in the subconscious realm of her thoughts, Y/n realised that the pretty yet staunch man in the doorway must have gotten used to being stared at. Whether it was by Y/n lying between his legs from where she'd fallen or by the other attractive girls out in the arena, he had the air of someone who had such beauty that there was no need to flaunt it.

Damn it, are all the male racers here attractive or what?

Y/n's frantic apologies faded off unsurely into the air as she stared back up at the man. She was on her knees, half-crouched, hands in front of her. She must have been frantically explaining and apologising for at least a minute now, but he hadn't said a word.

If anything, he looked intrigued.

They stared at each other a few minutes; Y/n's miserable, frantic, pleading expression contradicting his steady, sure gaze. Y/n finally collected her thoughts enough to actually look at him. He was very pretty at first sight, but up close Y/n could see faint white scars flecking his forearms, hands, and neck, as if something, or someone had scratched him. His eyes were dark and chocolatey, complementing the silky waves of purplish mahogany falling freely over his forehead, swept into a neat part in the middle. His mouth was a perfect, pink pout, glossy and rosy in the middle where he'd shifted the lollipop between them.

His outfit was a bit like Chan's but more casual, stylish shirtsleeves rolled to his arms and leather pants and boots, all in the same, intimidating shade of black. There was a large, abstract cutout in the shirt to the right side of his chest. A heavy silver chain and a wide- leather belt studded with tiny diamonds looped around his waist elegantly, framing his form.

Crouching before this absolute model of a man, Y/n felt like a common street urchin. Her mind wandered a little, and so did her eyes. But he still hadn't said anything. Y/n was beginning to wonder why he'd come into the room in the first place. Maybe to put her out of her misery. Attempting to speak, she cleared her throat.

"U-uhm..." Her voice came out thick, raw and croaky from crying. She clenched her fists and looked down suddenly, feeling a fresh wave of humiliated tears fill her eyes. He would mock her for sure.

"Hey, kid."

Y/n's head snapped up. His voice was soft and clear. Precise and measured. It wasn't like Chan's voice. Not at all. It was a little accented, but it was lovely. Pretty, almost.

Y/n tried to speak, willing her voice not to wobble. It came out quieter than she'd expected, a barely audible whisper. "Yes?"

"You're absolutely shit at racing, you know that?"

Y/n blinked, her misery temporary halted by the unexpectedly blunt statement. The man continued.

"That last turn was ass. Surely you can do better. You've got the skills, I can tell, but your reflexes need work."

Y/n gaped, dumbfounded. Who was this guy, waltzing into the room and critiquing her so bluntly? He looked like a proper racer, but still, there was no need to be so harsh about it. Y/n sighed and looked down, having come up with no retort to throw back in the man's face. She remained crouching, resigned to her fate.

She heard a small sigh from above here before a hand reached down, wrapping around her right bicep. It was gentle, but enough to lift Y/n to her feet. Firm, but not enough to hurt. His hand was quite large, rippled with veins, the knuckles a bit too big for the fingers. It was a pretty hand nonetheless, the skin smooth and tanned, and Y/n felt a small surge of thankful heat pool in her stomach at the unexpected, almost caring gesture.

Her knees throbbed faintly as she straightened herself. The man's grip on her arm loosened, but remained hovering uncertainly near, as if he was afraid she was going to fall. And in all honesty, Y/n did feel as if her legs were about to give out.

She stuttered a little as she spoke, her consciousness floating about her like a foggy daze. "T-thanks."

He tilted his head at her curiously. "Have you ever raced before? In a proper circuit?"

Unprepared for the direct question, Y/n averted his gaze, cheeks flushing. "No, I- tonight was my first time."

It must have been the adrenaline and the exhaustion surging through her body, but Y/n flushed even darker as she spoke, although her response carried no connotation whatsoever.

If he noticed, he didn't call her out on it, simply settling to fiddle with the lollipop stick still in his mouth. He let his hand fall from her arm back to his side, but it soon came back up to unexpectedly cradle the side of Y/n's head. She flinched at the surprising gesture, anticipating a hit from the racer, but he simply let his hand curve gently around the nape of her neck. He looked suddenly concerned and mildly put out.

"Did you know you've hurt yourself, by the way?"

Y/n blinked. She hadn't been previously aware of any injury on her body, but now that he had mentioned it, the back of her head stung a little, where her hairline met the soft skin of her neck. And she felt dazed, like she was floating...

Her hand came up to shakily press the back of her head, feeling for any sort of injury. When her fingertips met her nape, she felt a searing, white-hot shock of pain.

Her knees gave out and the racer was quick enough to dart forward, taking the brunt of the fall. He awkwardly looped his arm around Y/n's waist, holding her upright, and moved to sit her down on the flaking faux leather of the worn-out couch.

The world spun dizzyingly around her before going black.

~

Y/n woke to something cool and wet being pressed onto her forehead. Groaning weakly, she tensed her shoulders, testing her range of movement. She recognized the ceiling as being the backstage area; she must have remained in the same position on the couch after passing out.

A gentle, lulling hum came from her side. She turned her head to the right and saw the purplish-haired man from earlier, pressing a cool compress to her forehead. She exhaled heavily, eyes feeling baggy and tired. Closing her eyes, Y/n listened to the soft melody of the man's voice floating throughout the room. Her neck still hurt, but felt as if something had been wrapped around it; she figured a bandage of some sort. Weakly lifting her hand, she could faintly see specks of dried blood from where she'd previously touched her neck.

That confirmed her suspicions. She'd passed out because of the injury. Either that, or the exhaustion.

The man beside her poked her cheek, gently and not unkindly. A low chuckle came above her.

"Took you long enough,"

Y/m smiled, a watery, poor affair. Turning her head a little more, and wincing at the pain in her nape, she locked eyes with him.

"What time is it?"

He hummed. "Around two am. You passed out for a couple hours. Looked like your body could do with the rest, so I didn't wake you up," he paused his ministrations, gazing at her again with that deep, intense, yet gentle stare. "Did you have somewhere to be?"

Y/n shook her head minutely, pushing herself upright into a sitting position. She felt weak and boneless.

"I should go home," her voice trailed off, exhausted.

He looked up, mildly confused. "Home? I don't think you'd even make it out the door."

Y/n groaned. "Enough with the sassy comments. I'm going. Thank you for taking care of me-"

He stood suddenly, putting a hand on her shoulder. His gaze was almost fierce, stubborn, protective. Like an older brother.

"You're not going home like this. Let me drive you."

Y/n shook her head wildly, immediately regretting it. The throbbing in her head subsided as she pressed her palms to her temples.

"It's fine," attempting to stand, Y/n moved towards the door, shakily and slowly. Her legs felt like they were made of rubber bands.

The man watched her, unimpressed. Moving towards her, he offered his arm with a sigh.

"Just take it. I'll drive you home."

Exasperated, Y/n glared up at him. "I don't even know you. You could be a murderer."

He scoffed in return, rolling his eyes. "No murderer is this attractive. Look, just take my arm. You walked here, right? So that means you don't live far away-"

Y/n interrupted him, a little panicked at his observational skills. "How did you know I walked here?"

"I saw you earlier, before the race. No motorbike, or skateboard, or car. Looking around the arena like a little kid seeing a plane in the sky. Mouth open and everything."

At this, Y/n smacked him on the shoulder, scoffing at his comparison. He didn't even budge, Y/n's hit doing nothing to move him. He simply took her arm, a little more insistently, and steered her towards the door.

It took about five minutes of back and forth arguing and half-hearted bickering before Y/n finally allowed the racer to drive her home.

I haven't got much left to lose anyway, she thought glumly.

She was led to the back end of the arena, where a little dark hallway opened into the street by a creaky door. A narrow, dark, alleyway gaped at the left side of the street, and the man walked her towards it, making sure not to jostle her.

The night was dark and quiet, everything still and silent. The yellow glow of the streetlights cast abstract patterns of light onto the glistening road, soaked with rain. It must have poured down while she was blacked out. She could still hear the faint pumping of hip-hop music and the occasional rev of a car in the arena behind her.

The man led her into the alleyway, softly pointing out objects for her to move around, and kicking stray cans and rocks out of the way, lest she trip. He was surprisingly nice, considering the blunt comment he'd made about her racing earlier.

He led her to a Kawasaki motorbike, hidden behind a dumpster. It was beautiful, a sleek, dark vehicle with streaks of neon green highlighting the wheels and seat. He offered her a hand onto it and saddled himself onto the bike, revving the engine once. Y/n clung to the sides of the backseat, awkwardly hanging on. The racer took a helmet that had been concealed on top of an old AC unit and slipped it on, the big, dark shield masking his face. He flipped it up and turned to look at her questioningly.

"Well?" he said expectantly.

Y/n blinked.

He sighed. "Hold onto me. Otherwise you'll fall off and die."

Y/n rolled her eyes at his sarcastic comment. "It's fine, just drive."

She was met with a groan and another rev of the engine. He suddenly sped forward half a metre or so, then stopped suddenly. Y/n was thrown forward, crashing into his back. She gasped, arms flying to lock around his waist. She heard an amused chuckle and a click as the man flipped his face shield back down. Cheeks flushing rosy in her embarrassment, Y/n buried her face into his back, fisting the material of his dark shirtsleeves. She could feel the rush of seeping, intoxicating heat radiating into her from his back. Her arms instinctively tightened around him as he sped off.

The wind whooshed in her ears, whipping up her hair and causing a deafening rush of noise to settle around her as the motorbike sped into the night. Y/n tugged on the left side of his shirt, signalling him to go left. He picked up on it without a single hint of doubt or hesitation and Y/n fought a smile, eyes closed as she pressed her cheek into his back, and continued to tug on either the left or right side in order to direct him.

After about ten minutes of gentle tugging, the man pulled up in front of Y/n's apartment complex. The sky was beginning to lighten a little, though the deep glow of twilight still hung over the sky like a blanket.

Y/n awkwardly slipped off the motorbike, stumbling as she dismounted. The racer offered her his hand, but she'd already gotten off the bike. It hovered in the air, unsure, before dropping back to his side, pulling at the fabric of his leather pants, and then travelled back to the handlebars, gripping them tightly. He then turned to her, flipping his shield up, then pausing before taking it off entirely. His hair fell in a mussed mess around his forehead, slightly fluffy. Somehow, Y/n liked it better that way. It looked more raw, more real.

More perfect.

When he spoke, it was quiet. Quiet but gentle, but loud enough to float around the both of them, ringing in the early morning. He cleared his throat hesitantly, as if Y/n was an animal he was trying not to spook.

"I- uh, I wasn't planning to murder you, if that's what you're worried about..."

Y/n laughed unexpectedly at the statement; the sound rung out loud and clear, lighting up the sky. It felt glorious to be defying the silence that hung in the atmosphere, thick as fog on a stormy day. Like sunshine breaking through the clouds.

"Good to know," she giggled. "Um, thanks for the ride."

He simply nodded in acknowledgement, hand fiddling with the edge of the Kawasaki's windshield. The sleek, black helmet was tucked awkwardly under his arm.

Y/n turned to go, before pausing suddenly. Spinning on her heel, she thoughtfully looked at the man. He hadn't moved, simply watching her. Waiting. But it wasn't threatening or ominous in the least. It was protective, reliable. Like he was frozen, his dark, pretty eyes fixed on her own.

Y/n's voice was soft, almost hesitant. "I never got your name..."

The man smiled. Pushed his fringe out of his eyes, readjusted the helmet under his arm. The dawning light behind him illuminated his outline, all sharp, sleek angles and edges. He chuckled lightly, more airy, light exhale than sound.

"Minho."

a/n: likes, comments, reblogs appreciated !

[slicznymartwy]

hullo, idk if reqests are open still, but if they are can I request a Billy pegging fic? If they aren't feel free to ignore this <333 I hope you're doing well and having a wonderful day!!!

hi !!!! i am still taking requests, i just haven’t had much time to write and I haven’t been feeling that inspired lately ueueue thank you for the prompt !! i loved it, and I hope you enjoy :3 not exactly pegging, but it is butt stuff ! just 3k of pretty mid smut ,, I did my best I promise T T warnings: pwp, a little bit of dick slapping .. just a slight little bit, pls pretend that a palmful of lube is enough for butt fingering

☾⋆⁺₊ billy lenz x gn!afab!reader

Billy’s hair casts a shadowy halo around his face when he leans over you on the bed, like an intimate spectre. He kneels beside you, causing the mattress to dip you towards him but you don’t mind it. You want to get as close to him as possible.

Cupping his face, you smile up at him and let your thumb sweep gently across his cheekbone. 

You love him. You need him. 

“I want to try something new,” you whisper, watching his pretty lips. He licks them, and when you glance at his eyes, he’s staring at your lips as well. 

“What is it?” he whispers back, his words slurring together like someone who drank too much wine. It makes you feel like he’s drunk on you, on your smell and your touch.

“I want,” you start, but hesitate as you try to find the right words. You inhale, breathing in Billy’s scent. He smells like sweat and musk, manly and delicious. “I want to be inside you.”

Your words hang in the air, but you force yourself to stay quiet. If you weren’t so nervous, you would laugh at the way Billy’s expression turns blank, as he tries to understand what you’re asking him. 

“Inside. Inside. Inside,” he mutters under his breath, like he’s trying to glean the word’s meaning.

You tuck his hair behind his ear, and watch him refocus his eyes onto your face, silently asking you to explain. 

“It’s not fair that you always get to be inside me. I want to be close to you like that, too,” you say softly. 

“My mouth?” He says, uncertain. You shake your head, and let your hand fall from his face to his bare chest. You brush against his bed-warm skin and pout as cutely as you can. 

“No, Billy. I wanna fuck your ass,” you say, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

The noise Billy makes is almost a cough. A broken ah that sounds like all the air was knocked out of him. Billy wasn’t often expressive – you usually chalked it up to his nerves, since Billy preferred being solitary most of the time – but there was no mistaking the shock on his face, with his mouth agape and eyes wide. 

He’s quiet for a long time, so you decide take pity on him. 

“We don’t have to,” you say, cupping his cheek again.

Billy isn’t looking at you anymore. Your pillow is suddenly very interesting to him, and he stares at it as his mind keeps trying to make sense of your request. 

“How,” he asks.

“Same way you would fuck anyone in the ass,” you say with a teasing little smile. Billy doesn’t look impressed with you, so you try to look meek again and wrap your arms around his neck. 

“My fingers,” you say through a pout. 

Billy looks unsure. 

“Please? I’ll be gentle.” You hope your puppy dog eyes work on Billy, since they’re your last hope. He’s quiet as he mulls it over, but your gaze must have won him over because he nods, once but sure.  

Grinning, you pull him down to kiss him, and he moans against your lips. You can feel his hips pressing against yours, turning your core to molten lava. When he pulls away and looks down at you, his cheeks are flushed and he tries to catch his breath.

“Now?” he asks. You giggle and pet his cheek. 

“You have to clean up first. Let’s try it tomorrow,” you say, pecking his lips. Billy doesn’t let you get too far, and pulls you in for another round of heated kisses. 

He parts from you long enough to mutter into the kiss, “touch it.” He wastes no time in kissing you again, deep and blazing. 

Not seeing any reason to deny him, you wrap your hand around his cock and stroke him slowly, feeling every inch of it. When breathing becomes difficult, he pushes his forehead against yours and pants against your cheek. 

“Can’t wait to stuff you up, Billy,” you murmur, twisting your hand at his tip. “Bet you’re gonna cum so hard when I put my fingers in your ass.”

Billy groans at your words, deep and crackly. He fucks into your hand, and you keep your grip tight to give him what he wants. 

“Gonna take such good care of you. I love you so much,” you tell him. You smile against his lips when he captures your mouth yet again. Between kisses, he moves you both around until he’s kneeling between your legs. As he pushes into you, muttering something gross against your neck, you get lost in your daydreams for tomorrow. 

Billy fidgets with the towel around his waist as he stands in your doorway, his hair wet and curly from the shower. Water falls from him like he barely even dried off before leaving the bathroom. The water beads and trickles down his chest until it gets caught by his towel. 

Smiling fondly, you rub the spot on the bed beside you and watch how he stands a little straighter, a little braver. Enticed by you, he moves closer to you, but not before closing and locking the door behind him, despite the fact you were the only two in the house tonight.

“Feel clean?” you ask, sitting up taller when he nears you. He stands in front of you, and you put your hands on his waist and stomach when he gets close enough.

He nods, and you already expected that he would be mostly nonverbal tonight. 

“Do you still want to try? It’s okay if you don’t, we can always stop,” you assure him, but he shakes his head. When he leans down to kiss you, you can feel his wet hair drip onto you, and you giggle against his lips. 

“You’re so wet,” you murmur, pushing back some of his hair. You look into his eyes, looking for any sign of discomfort. All you can see are his blown out pupils, hiding most of his amber irises. 

He’s breathing heavily now, and you can see his cock twitch in anticipation underneath his towel. Silently, you tug on it, and he stands up straight before letting it fall in a heap to the floor. 

Eye level with his cock, it’s so easy to take him in your mouth. He’s only halfway hard, and it’s exciting to feel him throb and grow against your tongue. You suck on him, glancing up to see how his brows furrow with pleasure. His eyes are hooded as he watches on, almost closed. 

You bring your hand to his balls, cupping them as you pull off of his cock, keeping your lips around the tip. He puts his hand in your hair, guiding you back down on his length, and you go readily. He tenses when you let your finger drag behind his balls, tracing a line to his hole.

When you finally brush against his rim, he lets out a startled yip and you pull off his cock entirely.

“Is it okay?” You check with him, letting your finger press delicately against his hole, enough for him to feel, but not enough to enter him.

He doesn’t answer, not right away. You watch him try to catch his breath, gauging the feeling of your finger and seeing if it’s something he wants. You’re about to pull away when he nods, eyes falling shut.

“You’re so good, Billy. So brave,” you murmur, ducking your head down to take his hard cock back in your mouth.

With the bottle of lube still unopened on the beside table, you don’t push your finger inside him yet. You only toy with him, letting him get used to the feeling of someone being between his ass cheeks.

You wonder if he’s ever played with himself like this, if he’s even thought about it a little bit. You know he will now, if the sounds he’s making are any indication.

They sound like broken, half started moans that taper off as another breaks free from his throat. He sounds helpless and fucked out, especially when you take him to the hilt and push the tip of a finger just barely past his tight rim.

“Dirty slut,” he mutters, holding your head with both hands now. When you pull away, you move your hand away from his ass and wrap it around his wet cock, stroking him lazily as you smile up at him.

“Not tonight, silly,” you say, gazing heatedly into his eyes as you peck the tip of his cock. “You’re the slut, letting me fuck your tight ass.”

You giggle at him when he shudders, cock twitching in your hand. 

“Gonna have you begging me to fuck you,” you tease, wrapping your lips around the head of his cock just to drive him crazy. It works, and he tries to fuck deeper in your mouth.

“Nuh uh,” he mumbles, contradicting the way his body reacts to you.

It’s hard to smile with him in your mouth, so you pull off just to giggle, keeping your fist tight around him.

“Slutty Billy,” you say, keeping your eyes locked as you bring your finger to your lips. You only suck on it for a second, getting it coated with your spit, before bringing it back down behind his balls. 

When you press against his hole, he keens, cock twitching and jumping helplessly in front of your face. You only give yourself another moment to smile adoringly at him before taking him in your mouth again, soothing his cock as you finally push in to your first knuckle.

He is leaking into your mouth, and you swallow him eagerly. You desperately want him to feel good, and you feel proud that you got him this far. He’s taking you so well, so eagerly, that you struggle to hold yourself back. 

When you pull your mouth off of him, you listen to him whine and clench around your finger.

“Doing so good, baby. I just wanna make it feel better,” you murmur. You slip your finger back out to grab the forgotten lube, hearing his pathetic groan at being empty again. When you pour it on your hand, the liquid is cold, so you give it a moment to warm up in your palm.

“This is gonna make it easier,” you tell him, putting the bottle back on the night stand. With your now free hand, you return to stroking his cock. 

You get the distinct impression that Billy couldn’t give less of a shit, as long as you kept your hand moving on his shaft. He looks like he’s lost in bliss, focused only on meeting your hand with his hips on every downstroke.

“Are you ready?” As you ask him, you push your thumb down against his slit, feeling a new bead of slick spreading against the pad of your finger.

Billy nods, but it isn’t enough. You need to hear the words; you crave it like you’re starving and his yes is a four course meal. 

You close your index finger and thumb into a circle around the head of his cock and squeeze, basking in his pitiful moan. When he gasps at the end, you’re afraid he might cum, and you drop your hand to the base of his cock and squeeze there instead.

“Tell me, Billy. Tell me you want me to finger your ass.” He moans like it hurts, and his head rolls back as his cock continues to twitch. “Tell me, you dirty little slut. Tell me what you want.”

“Wah- Wanna, wanna cum,” he mutters, so typical of himself. Feeling cruel, you let go of him and slap his balls, dull and gentle, but the threat makes Billy yelp and knock his knees together.

“I know you do. That’s not what I asked.” You stroke him again, persistently rubbing your hand on his tip to get him even more flustered. “I wanna hear it. Tell me you want me in your ass.”

“I want it,” he sobs, hips jerking as he tried to fuck himself into your hand. “Please, please fuck me, please fuck me.” His voice is low and hurried, practically choking on his words in his effort to get them out.

Hearing the magic words, you grin up at him and let go of his cock to spread the lube across both hands. You’re careful to coat your fingers well before bringing your hand behind his balls yet again.

“Such a good slut for me,” you murmur, wrapping your other slick hand around his cock and pumping him slowly. As your finger slips past his tight rim, Billy makes a noise you haven’t heard from him before. 

Although he was quieter in person, you had plenty of exchanges over the phone with him. He was lewd and dramatic, screaming and groaning and making disgusting promises that always had your cunt throbbing in anticipation.

Now, though, he sounds like a rabid animal. His groan comes from somewhere deep in his chest, and it rattles around in there like he’s in agonizing pleasure. Every move you make inside him drags out another noise, bridging them all together like a sinful melody.

You slip your entire finger in, and he’s so tight and hot. You keep your pace on his cock slow, hoping to distract him from any pain or discomfort he might be feeling. 

If he has any complaints, though, he doesn’t let you know about them. He puts both hands on your head to steady himself, and your heart bursts with how much he trusts you in this moment. 

You glance up at him as you press a kiss to the underside of his cock, drinking in the look of absolute pleasure on his face. His eyes are clamped shut, and you want to ask him to watch you, but you can't risk him pushing you away now.

Feeling a little bit cruel, you take Billy in your mouth again just as you crook your finger in and up from deep inside him. You prod against him a few times, and then he’s bucking helplessly into your mouth.

“Fuck!” he shouts, like the word was ripped out from him without his permission. You swallow around him, feeling his cock push against the back of your throat when you force yourself down to his hilt. He whimpers at the feeling of your wet hot mouth, and when you find his prostate again, he sobs.

“Fuck my pussy, fuck my fucking pussy,” he cries, voice pitched high like yours. You moan around him, eyes fluttering shut as his hands tightened in your hair. “Fuck me, fuck me Billy, please fuck me.”

When you pull off his cock, strings of spit between him and your mouth, you wrap your hand around him and jerk him off quickly as you tried to catch your breath. 

“Do you like it, Billy? Can I add another finger?” you ask him, leaning in to kiss his stomach. He shutters and moans, his cock jumping in your hand, and nods quickly.

“Fuck it. Fuck it,” he mutters, throat clicking as he swallows.

With still slick fingers, you pull out the single finger before pushing in two together. Billy yelps at the burn, so you suckle on the tip of his cock and stroke the rest of it as you continue easing your fingers in.

He relaxes slightly as you keep up the motions, but once you’re able to push against his prostate again, he tenses and fucks into your mouth.

You start to fuck him with your fingers, slow and careful to keep Billy as comfortable as possible. His hole squelches as you push in and out of him and, paired with the sound of your lips around his cock, the noises left you slick and wanting.

Tonight isn’t about you, though. Tonight is only about Billy, who takes your fingers so well for someone who’s never had anything up his ass before. You want to praise him, but you know he’d much rather have your mouth busy on his dick. 

He’s so relaxed, the more you work him open and focus on sucking his cock, that he barely notices when you get in the third finger. You start to fuck him quicker now, using all three fingers to push against his prostate on every thrust upwards. 

He cries out earnestly, letting out pathetic moans that make you squeeze your thighs together for a little bit of relief. 

You come off his cock with a pop, gasping to catch your breath. You match your own speed with both hands, jerking him off and fucking him at a steady but unrelenting pace.

“You’re such a good slut. So good for me. I didn’t know you could be such a dirty slut, Billy,” you tease him with a grin, watching how his face twists and contorts with pleasure. He looks so lost in it, similar to how he looks when he’s deep inside you, fucking you hard.

Even when you put your mouth around his tip again, you don’t slow either hand down. His hips start to buck like he has no control over them, like he doesn’t know which way to be pushing against. His hands hold onto your head, like you’re his grounding rod.

Billy doesn’t warn you when he comes, but you can taste him on your tongue. His hips stutter and twitch before stopping completely, and you stop your hands as well. Billy pants noisily above you, gulping and gasping for air even when you finally take him out of your mouth.

His cock is slick with your spit, already starting to soften between his legs. He's still twitching, but you don't tease him or tug on his cock like you might if you were trying to overstimulate him.

Carefully, you ease your fingers out from him, cooing at the hiss he lets out as you inadvertently brush against his sensitive walls.

“I know, baby,” you say, kissing just above his belly button. “You did so good. C’mere.”

You move and lay down with your head on the pillows, pulling Billy along to lay on top of you. He huffs as he settles against you, smushing his face against your chest as far as it can go. Your hand finds his head quickly, and you comb your fingers through his still damp hair.

Billy rumbles something against your shoulder, but you don’t ask him to repeat himself, because he’s already snoring quietly by your ear. 

“Love you,” you murmur, kissing his forehead. He doesn’t answer, but you don’t need him to. Feeling his warm body pressed against yours was enough.

Anyways, you’re sure Billy will make up for it in the morning, with his tongue if you’re lucky.

© slicznymartwy 2023, please do not repost or copy.

a/n: reblogs and replies are really appreciated

[lesbianslvt666]

Queen Of Peace

Cw: smut wit plot, gore, descriptions of natural disasters, fake system of goddess and gods, mommy issues, mayor character death, hurt no comfort and much more that I don’t remember.

Peasant!farm!Ellie x exiled!Goddess!Reader

You fell to your knees, clothes sticking to your body, heavy crimson liquid staining your form. Your back facing the large arches the entrance to the temple was.

The desperation seeping through your bloody hands upwards, fingers almost gliding the clouds above, as if to touch the holly.

You couldn’t take this any longer, no feeling has ever been this intense, the punishment too angry, too lonely.

Your back slouched forward as your cries agitated your entire body.

"oh mother!, forgive me, I have paid for my mistakes, I had paid enough…"

Your pleading wasn’t enough, the physical body you were given was still yours, you were still cage inside of it.

"oh my dear! How come I have seen you slaughter and toy with the human kind, that one you are now part off. be grateful for I haven't make you go through the pain of generations, the suffering of those you have wronged."

Your destroyed state, kneeling like lost dog in front of her altar while her defying voice came to rise retrieving all the memories of what you have done.

The regret of those days coming to the pit of your stomach like a burning fire that drips down your eyes like boiling lava, tears of blood that could only be described as the pain in your chest.

Your heart almost exploded in you as the agony grew.

She was making you relive what you had done. What you made humans do.

Before this living torture you were part of the grandiose thrones in the heavens, where goddesses and gods alike sat. All, had a mother in common, she who gave birth to the universe, all inside, all outside, all that exists and that doesn’t.

She couldn’t do it all for herself.

The only thing gods and humans have alike is the blazing torture that loneliness constitutes.

So she created you and all your siblings.

Each representing a valance of the universe.

Life and death

Love and pain

Fire and water

You, you were the most human of all your siblings, for you meant destruction and rebirth.

And so you were full of flaws, and one of them was how stubborn and self-conceded you were.

Your siblings always felt the need to outshine each other, you of course, weren't the exception.

However, you always manage to disappoint somewhere.

But not them, not the humans, not the little creatures, oh so hungry for victory, hunger that mirrored your own. And that’s how, after a big fight with all the family, your anger had clouded all reason.

Back to your temple to rest, you found a crying woman, pleading on her knees, to "please help her kingdom", and her lovely husband, the prince, to win the upcoming war, and so you did.

They won the battle, the war and the small fights after.

And so the people came pleading to you again, and again and… again…

At first it was amusing how eager these creatures were to kill each other, and then your laughter crowded the temple.

Amusement became humour, but soon humour became boredom.

Helping with destruction above all the men could see, land crashing on itself, tectonic planks waltzing, creating a horrendous symphony that destroyed and hurt.

No path, no rock, not a singular place wasn’t covered in blood, the earth mixing with exploding volcanos and sea waters that rose as high as possible.

Sky covered in clouds that crashed against each other with the anger of your soul.

The rivers run wild in crimson shades, bodies flowing down with force. The wind carried screeching screams of fervours agony ripped from the humans. You blamed it on themselves, for they started with the pleading.

You were so immerse destroying that you had forgotten to rebirth.

Your mother realized way too late.

When all life almost ceased to exist.

And that’s how you spent seven thousand years resurrecting live on earth.

To the contrary of destruction, rebirthing took an actual tool on your body.

By the last day of the rebirth, your body was merely a resemblance of what it was.

So human like, so ephemeral.

You fell hard on earth, the smallest amount of holly keeping you from burning out when you entered the atmosphere.

however, it burned all your clothes.

Naked body on the sand, beach waves behind you wetting your skin, liking like needles.

She saw you after a few hours of your falling.

She was struck by your beauty.

Nothing that she has ever seen.

Before she could think, she rescued you, how was she going to explain her father Joel of this girl she was bringing home.

The first night was the hardest.

"Ellie!, Ellie! The girl is awake!"

Joel screamed to the winds hopping the message would reach Ellie who was working on the field.

Your screams could be heard from miles away, she was running towards the small cabin, sweat running down her palms.

Calming you wasn’t easy, you would scream for forgiveness.

Screaming the most incoherent set of words.

Calling for your mother.

Apologizing to the earth…

Your eyes were shut hard, almost painful and when Ellie least expected you opened them, big like the moon, red veins almost exploding in them, the fear you felt in your chest translated to Ellie like she had seen the horrors you had caused.

Ellie placed a hand on her mouth, hardly slapping herself shut when she jumped backwards, falling to the ground when she looked at your eyes, tears of crimson blood falling like scarlet jewels.

And as scared as she was, she was always there, always to calm you down, every day she would make you forget more and more.

Or was now your human brain that couldn’t possible resist the pain of the knowledge you carried.

She taught you how to do human things, she taught you how to work the land, How to cook, You taught her how to fight, how to care for animals the she had never even thought as pets.

Joel, he felt like home, a hug from him felt like healing something you didn’t knew you had in your chest.

A paint your mothers reject had planted in your heart, growing like poison through your veins.

Every day was spent between taking care of the land, animals, cooking, laughing, chatting and you teaching them both how to write and read, how to paint, and Joel taught both of you how to play guitar.

And for a sweet second you forgot you didn’t deserved this.

One night, when Joel had to go to the nearest town with his brother, Ellie and you spent the whole day together, dancing and singing, not a chore today she said giving you her beautiful signature smile.

Her fingers touched yours and then came up your arm.

You had always felt this thing for Ellie, an aching sensation in your chest that made your heart drum with the force of a thousand storms, and right now your realized that this was so intense that you almost cried, bur you didn’t.

"can I kiss you?"

Her inquiry a whisper, almost as soft as the breeze outside, and if you hadn't been so close to her, almost flushed bodies you wouldn’t have heard her.

You knew much of kissing from books you’ve read and songs you’ve heard. But never had done it before.

"I don’t know how to…"

Your words shaking, open sentence at the end to signal the girl in front of you that you do want this.

"I've never done it before either."

Her bright smile embarrassed and her face felt hot, she wanted to be forever with you, she was just worried that she might not please you. before she pulled away you went with your human instincts.

Physical affection wasn’t much of a godly form, she taught you more about it that you had ever experience.

And now, with her hands intertwine at you waist, your mouth crashed with hers.

The feeling of her warm lips moving awkwardly against yours made the pain in your chest become butterflies in the pit of your stomach. Your hands moving desperately now to touch her, finger tracing up her torso leaving one hand on her neck and the other on her waist.

And both lost all sense of discomfort, feeling your soft delicious lips made her delirious.

your body soft against her.

She moaned as your hand moves to breeze over her breast and she started to touch all over you.

She was drunk off your sent, Like a drug where only you clouded her mind.

Yours was foggy.

Ellie.

Ellie.

"Ellie…"

Her name floating out of your mouth deliciously.

In her 22 years of life, Ellie has never felt this intensely about anything in her life.

She was constantly surrounded by men, and the only girl she ever fell for left her behind. Scared of being in love with another women.

She was so lonely romantically.

At first she only wanted to take care of you, an act of kindness natured by her humanity.

But as time passed and she got to know you it felt like she only ever wanted to be with you.

And you felt the same.

Your movements felt so human, instinct powered by emotions you had never felt before.

She by the other hand, was trying to keep herself sane, as you both sat on her make shift bed, kissing passionately but as separate as Ellie could, she feared like if she went any further she wouldn’t stop herself.

The space making you groan, you wanted nothing more in your life than to be with her, than to touch her, and for her to touch you.

So you straddle her, both legs on each side of her hips.

Her lap comforting and warm, she squirm under you, feeling the bubbles of your ass on her.

Intoxicating presence healing your swollen heart.

Years of pain patching up by Ellies soft touches, needy to feel every inch of your body.

Both your hot mouths open for the other to explore, connected by a now passionate kiss, drool falling off the corners of both mouths.

Your hands kneading now on the soft skin of her tits, her whimpers filling your mouth like music on a ceremony.

You separated from her, taking off her shirt hungrily and she helped you take yours. Both naked in a second.

You wanted to worship her, fall to your knees and show her how much she meant to you.

She took you to now be on top of you, hesitation on both parts driven by inexperience.

"Ellie, please…" your whimpers made Ellie twitch, sleek falling in a string down her freckled legs.

"please what angel?" her voice cracked when she felt your fingers gracing up her leg, collecting her wetness.

"please make me yours Ellie."

Fingers going back to your mouth to taste her and she went insane.

She kissed and marked all that she could, every mole, every part of your beautiful skin.

She needed to let you know that she was yours, by making you hers.

Her hand caressed your skin all the way down to your cunt, spreading your lips, shivers running down her spine.

"so wet baby, so pretty"

a moan threatening to fall from your lips, your face inches from her, not kissing her yet, you gave a look on her pretty face, her closed eyes open at the lack of contact, she pushed a finger in and you both felt a wave of something intense like a lightning flowing from the depths of both souls.

The sound of rain droplets falling outside crowned the room with a beautiful melody, Ellie was grunting too enchanted by you, your mouth agape, small breathy moans falling from your lips, unsure if you could be as loud as you wanted.

"don’t be shy my love, no one can hear us" Ellie's voice was raspier, just like when she wakes up in the morning and it made your heart flutter, fast butterflies sending waves of the thought of forever waking up next to her, her voice natural to you and finally feel the warm of love embody your soul entangled with hers.

Kisses and moans, filled the room, wet sounds of both mouths and cunts overlapping with each other.

Finally when both came to each other peaks, you fell to her chest, hearts beating fast against one another, under a thin blanket. the sound of rain more intense, thunder and air severe outside.

Ellie reached one of her hands to turn off the candle beside you, a knock interrupting the moment, desperate screams of Tomy coming from the outside and you jumped from the bed, putting on the first dress you found, while Ellie put back her previous clothes.

You were the one who opened the door to a drenched Tomy, wet hands holding his hair in torment, he entered the house right away, walking in circles.

His eyes drowsy and his demeanour obscure.

You were worried for him but Ellie seemed to know.

"what happened to Joel? Where is he!?"

The way to the town was slippery, rain softening the ground beneath you, Ellie's horse following Tommy's.

Your heart felt a torturous string, the guilt burning up your insides again.

After a three hour travel Tomy stopped at white house, outsiders wating in the rain for their loved ones, a small house that doubled as an alms house.

Upon arrival Ellie entered the place without notice, searching endlessly for Joel, a mare pulp of flesh that was now his body, the smell of death emerging all around.

She fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face like waterfalls of painful realization.

She was taken out of the place, face glued to his body as one of the medics placed a white thin fabric over his body, blood seeping through the white sheet.

Tomy and you buried his body on the outer skirts of Joel's land under his favourite tree.

Days passed, months swiftly went by, and you would wake up in the middle of the night to a cold bed.

Somehow Ellie was always under the oak tree, sometimes Joel's guitar on hand, playing a sombre tune, other times sleeping on the freezing ground.

The first few weeks you had to fight her to get inside of the house, purple lips signalling to her frozen state, it got progressively harder to get her back inside, to the point that you had now made a torturous routine of seen her in that state, placing a fuzzy blanket on her shoulders and a warm candle light to make it less cold.

She wanted to be left alone, so you wouldn’t bother her.

During the day she would silently make her chores, eat with you and sleep the rest of the day, she didn't talked to you for days.

One of the nights when she was shaking under the tree, sleep state shivering with cold, she heard the fierce voice of your mother.

"now see whose fault is that…"

She opened her eyes in fear, the voice so severe she felt dizzy, however, when she opened her eyes she wasn’t at her usual spot.

Colossal columns of precious stones rising above her head, so tall she couldn’t see the end.

sharp laughs from a familiar voice landing in her chest like daggers when she understood who it was.

When she came closer to the source she saw you, hysteric laughter erupting from your chest as you stood in front of a large hole on the floor, she came closer to you, noticing you couldn’t see her, the hole seemed to be above the skies. 

Horrors beyond her comprehension hit her in the face, how could you laugh at that.

She wanted to wake up from that nightmare but she couldn’t. she couldn’t close her eyes, she couldn’t move an inch, and so she was bind to watch the torture you made man create.

At the end of what felt like an eternity of suffering she saw one last vision, Joel.

She screamed and scream, but couldn’t do anything.

Horrific images of Joel's death imprinted on her vision and your laugh became so loud her head was hurting, her hands came to her ears but she couldn’t stop the sound.

You were having so much fun with his torture, how dare you.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and she turned haplessly to it, a tall woman a beauty she couldn’t comprehend looked down at her.

"I have shown you now, why I sent her to earth, she had to pay for her sins, I as a mother couldn't control her wrath"

And Ellie finally understood the nonsense you were saying when you first woke up.

She had never hated anyone in her life before.

She woke up, standing up, fury burning through her veins.

She walked quietly to the kitchen grabbing a silver knife, strong enough to butcher an animal.

Strong enough to kill you.

She straddle you without a care, she screamed at you how much she hated you, tears running down her face and she swung the knife at you.

Your sudden waking up state you defended yourself, dodging her knife and grabbing it from her hands, you couldn’t control yourself now that you were alert, strong hands fighting against each other for the knife, and when you least expected Ellies eyes opened wide, her mouth open to speak.

"your mother was right" her thick blood flew out of her and you tried your best to stop the blood flow, but the river was too sudden, and your movements weren't fast enough.

[zwolfgames]

Slight Yandere! Sauron x Childhood friend!reader

Requested:/

(Cuz... Armoured men. Can be seen as romantic or platonic.)

(Warnings: Gore, genocide, sickness, death.)

(3rd person POV)

"Sire. The one ring, it has been located, deep within the elven kigdom."

An orc servant spoke to Sauron, who was sitting on his throne in contempt.

"Retrieve it." Sauron ordered simply, waving a hand clad in sharp armour. The metal clinking together with each twitch of his fingers.

"The orc forces are unable to break the front lines, sire." The trembeling servant explains. The mosnter is obviously sweating with the heat of the blazing lava-waterfalls.

"... Is that so?" Sauron stands up, his metal armour scraping against itself as he descends from the platform of his throne. 

He violently throws the orc into the lava pool beneath before storming out in rage.

The elves.... They had the ring, the one ring.

He needs it. It's his. Just like how middle earth would be his aswell.

And.... His long lost friend. If he had the ring, it would be easy to track them down.

So, he stormed out of the castle or Mordor, if it could even be called that. Barking orders at the remaining forces around him to ride with him towards the elven kigdom by dawn.

As quick as he tought of the plan, it got done.

His remaining orc forces joined the ones at the front line with burning torches and weapons utelizing fire.

This forest, the home of the elves, would burn.

The flames engulfed the old trees, the grass, the animals... and the elves.

They didn't know what was coming for them. Some may hide in the large rivers and lakes, but an escape from the suffocating smoke wouldn't come.

Sauron marched into the flames, his armour protecting his large form. His footsteps leaving prints in the ashes of a once powerfull and prosperous kigdom.

He was just in time to hear the screams of agony. To smell the burning of nature.... To see the scorched bodies.

He breathes in the scent of death and ashes. Stepping over the burning corpses of a species he couldn't care less about.

The orc army followed behind, making sure not to let anyone out alive.

Yet Sauron couldn'y care about survivors. He just wanted the one ring.

Simple as that.

So when he found an elf, still partially concious, he picked it up by its collar and glared trough the eyeholes in his intimidating helmet.

"The one ring, where is it?" He sneered at the poor elf.

"I-I won't tell you..." The elf coughed weakly. Staring at the destrucion of its home.

Sauron jammed his sharp fingers onto the elfs chest, twisting its skin around painfully.

The elf screams out in agony, its screams echoeing trough the burning forest, the deafening fire crackles keeping the sound from reaching far.

"I-It's... in the secret vault.." The elf whispers weakly, even such a high ranking creature wasn't able to stand such torture.

"And where is this 'secret' vault?" Sauron asks, his tone that of an impatient man. The elf had given up on live before it could answer. Sauron throws the being aside without any trace of care.

Sauron sighs heavily as this means he has to go find it himself. But for the one ring... he would.

------

It wasn't that hard. With the forest burned down, it was easier to spot the usually overgrown cave, littered with crystals. He felt the presence of his precious ring in there.

Entering the cave alone, he makes quick work of the stone door, ignoring the carvings on it meant to aid in finding a way to open it as he just smashes the irritating obstacle.

And he's in.

What foolish elves to think a stone door would keep anything thats desparate enough out.

Sauron explores this 'secret vault' and stumbles upon multiple treassures he couldn't possibly give two flying shits about.

And then, at long last, the one ring. Beautifully layed out for him on a pedestal. It's like the elves wanted him to come get it himself.

He slowly reaches for the golden object, sliding it over his steel clad fingers cooly. He didn't have to put on a show like this... there was no-one else here... Yet, after decenia, he deserved it.

The moment he connected with the one ring, his superiour powers flowed back into him. He was unstopable now.

And... that meant middle earth would soon fall to him. Bow their pathetic heads. And you, you would be by his side.

As if a switch had been flipped, his next goal just popped into his dark head. Get Y/N.

That was one of the things he had vowed to do after losing his dear childhood friend such a long time ago.

Y/N had beeb seperated from him by his master, to cast more darkness in his heart, make him a better pupil. But now that his master was no longer, he coul take Y/N back. Wherever they were...

Who-ever took them... would pay.

He vowed to that.

Yet, why did he feel.. so close to that goal?

Like he's already done it?

It's so strange. It's like you're right next to him.

Wait a minute... Is he... going crazy?!

No, probaly not, he's always been crazy.

But he swore that he could feel your prensence in this very room.

Sauron looked around the vault, his hidden eyes scanning over the various elven treassures and artefacts. The vines casting a slightly green glow on the chamber.

He couldn't spot... anything that looked like you. I mean, these were all just objects....

Sauron walked closer, trying to tell where your presence was coming from.

He picked up some trinkets, looking each over before throwing it behind him carelessly. That is, untill he picked up what appears to be a crystall ball.

This had to be it. It just had to as it made him feel like he was holding you again.

Sauron peered into the crystal sphere. Eyeing the inside, tough not much but some blinding light was revealed.

"No, no. This is it. They sealed you, didn't they, dear?" He whispers to the magic object. Slowly holding it closer to his chest.

Sauron muses to himself as he walks out with the crystal ball in his hands. Who would have tought the elves would have both of his desired things in one room. What fools. Dead fools.

It doesn't take him long to find his troups, playing with dead bodies... Great.

They march back to Mordor, leaving the destroyed elven kingdom behind without a speck of remorse.

It would take them five days to get back, at this leisury pace... Sauron didn't mind, he had time now. He had the one ring.

-----

Sauron sat awake in his large tent. Holding the crystal ball.. It brought him immense comfort. Holding you... Sort of.

He wants this damm thing open. But not to be hasty... he doesn't want to end up killing you... That would be awfull.

So, Sauron sits awake at night, looking over the crystal prison, trying the way to properly open it, let you out.

He taps it with his metal clad fingers, blows on it. Chants spells. But nothing happens.

He gets an orc to licks it. Also doesn't work. Why would it.. thats silly.

Sauron notices a small crack in the crystal sphere..... Should he break it? Most of the time... thats how objects like this work. But what if this one was special? Who knows...?

But he's so desparate to see you. He hand't seen your smile in so long...

So he does it. He jabs his armoured thumb into the small crack to enlarge it. It began cracking more, a rip going trough the crystal ball. Eventually splitting it in two.

He pulled the two halves appart like people do with coconuts, a blinding light coming out of it.

The moment that he regained his vision, Sauron saw what he had waited eons for. You... So sweetly on the ground in front of him. You appeared to be sleeping.

Oh... and the elves seemed to have dressed you in some nice white clothes before they sealed you... Tradition, maybe?

He actually felt breathless for a moment. Gently picking you up in his steel arms. Being very carefull as to not harm even a hair on your body. Your so fragile looking body. he couldn't blame you, you had been sealed for a long, long time.

"Y/N.... my dear...." Sauron whipsers and brushes some hair out of your sleeping face. He brings his head towards yours for a forehead kiss before he remebers he has a permanent helmet on. Sauron sighs and holds you just a bit closer.

It was so fun when things went his way.

He held you there for hours, waiting for any signs of you awakening from your eon long slumber.

And finally, there it was, a flutter of your lashes, that beautifull (e/c) hue looking up at him.

Oh... and a weak scream. He was a bit concerened untill he realised you must not recognize him in the slightest. The armour was quite scary afterall.

"Shh, Y/N, it's me. Sauron. Remember?" He held your face in his cold metal hands. Trying to calm you down.

And ofcourse, just like he remembered, you put on that cute thinking face.

"Prove it." You spoke hoarsly. Throath dry like the Sahara desert after eons of being sealed away.

Sauron grabbed your hand and did the silly handshake you had made up back in your childhood.

He smiles behind the scary helmet as he sees your eyes soften at him. The warmth of you finally hugging him again after all these years was all he had wished for. He embraces you, wanting to bury his nose in your hair, yet he couldn't.

"You... came to get me..." You whispered as you held the man you've lost eons ago. You didn't recognize him.... But he had proven it. He was Sauron.

"Ofcourse I did, dear." Sauron whispered just as softly. If anyone saw this... they'd think he was a fraud. Being this soft with someone, having feelings. But it was you. You had been with him before he became cold and unfeeling, a monster.

The two of you stayed in a comfrotable hug untill the dawn broke trough the darkness of the sky. Signalling that they'd be venturing further to get back to Mordor.

"Y/N, darling.... I may have unsealed you a bit too early.... You're okay with riding on my horse with me, right?" Sauron asked softly, brushing a strand of your hair out of your eyes.

You nod, a bit surprised at what was even happening as you had been sealed for eons.

Sauron smiled at you, even if you couldn't see. Taking your fragile little hand in his metal claws to lead you out with him.

He leads you to his way too big horse. Hoisting up at you and glaring down any orc who looks at you funny. They think you're fresh meat....

Sauron wraps one of his metal arms around you to make sure you don't fall off of the horse, the other on the bridle.

You ride off. Sauron securely holding you against him as his giant horse runs ahead of the goblin army. He wants to get you home, as soon as possible.

Preferably... before you realised what he's become and all the things he's done.

----------

You eventually arrive at Mordor, sweating a bit from the vulcanic heat and the poor air condition. Sauron is worried, he hand't tought of that since he hand't been a normal mortal for eons.

But no matter, he has the ring, he'll find something to solve your issue.

"We're here, dear." Sauron helps you off of the horse, holding your hand like some disney prince.

He notices how wobbly you are on your legs so he supports your weight with his arm. He walks inside with you, into the wide doors of his 'castle'.

"Y/N, I welcome you back to my side." Sauron appears to be smiling behind the intimidating helmet. Leading you to a bedroom... Or well... a giant room with a bed.

It's darkly decorated. The same evil colours the rest of his castle has. But this room... was actually nicely decorated. Cozy and with everything you may need.

Due to you observing the decor, you didn't truly register the click of the heavy door you came in from...

"Y/N, sweetheart. You need to promise me... You'll stay right here. Okay?" Sauron speaks, now basically pressed against your back. His metal arms wrapping around your waist once more.

"... Okay?" You nod in uncertainity. Surely your friend had his reasons, like always.

Sauron pats your head, briefly showing you around the room before he instructed you to rest. The new dark ruler being out of the room in moments. He still had a lot to do. and for now, you were secure.

-----

His happily ever after didn't last long, however. He had middle earth almost taken over.. yes. 

But you... were declining.

It wasn't noticable at first... You hid it from him.

He came  by your room everyday, just to chat. He told you of what happned during your long period of being sealed... and he got to bask in your presence again. It was perfect.

That is, untill he caight sight of your new condition.

He was just telling you about the start of his dark reign when you started coughing. Violently so.

The dark ruler notices how you cough into your hands,  a faint spatter of blood seeping trough the crevaces of you fingers. His face twists into a worried frown, taking your hands into his to look at the bloodied mess...

Along with some... Crystals?

Little, sharp shards of clear crystals, coloured with your blood lay there on your soft palms.

His face twits in shock. That.. isn't whats supposed to happen. Why is this happening.

"Y/N... Are you hurt?" Sauron asks as he cups your cheek with his free hand. Making sure he can look into your eyes for any signs of lies.

"N-No... I'm fine, really." You speak softly, a bit of blood still on your lips... between your teeth. Naturally, he doesn't believe that. You coughed up blood, for gods sake.

"Y/N... sweatheart. Don't lie. It won't help you. I'll get to the bottom of this, alright?" Sauron speaks lightly, not wishing to raise his voice when you look this fragile.

He looks at the crystal shards in his hands again, looking the sharp little pieces over. They remind him of your crystal ball of a prison.

The elves must have had something to do with this...

But... those were all dead. He was going to have to solve this on his own.

And fast. You were declining... On his watch. In his arms.

He couldn't lose you, not again. He couldn't lose one of the only things he still cared about.

"Lie down, you nedd rest." Sauron advised and gently nudged you towards your bed. Before you could lie to him about being fine again. He's seen you do that before. When you were kids...

Playing by the river.. you scraped your knee and didn't tell him untill it bled trough your pants. He should have seen the tear you blinked back. Seen trough that smile.

And just like back then, he had noticed you pain too late once again.

Sauron tucks you in, against your embarrasment and protests. 

The dark ruler leaves your room and you could finally drop the smile.

You didn't want him to worry. He's already saved you... you didn't want to cause more trouble.

But you felt it. Inside you... the suffacting feeling. Something heavy was growing inside of you.

Occasionally, a shard broke off and you coighed it up. painfully tearing open your throath. It wasn't pleasant, but you could bite trough.

If only he hadn't seen.

-------

Not a month later, you were bedridden. Stuck under the soft covers as only Saurons most trusted servants tended to you. 

Beautifull crystal shards grew on your (s/c) skin. Glittering in the light. Catching Saurons depressed gaze.

He was watching his childhood friend slowly die...

Slowly crystalize and dim out.

He wanted to murder those elves all over again.

They did this to you. sealed you away and cursed you. With such beautifull crystals. It's ironic how beautifull you looked while approaching the end of your mortal life.

And he couldn't do anything but be beside you for it all.

Holding your hand. Talking to you. Hearing your voice weaken each day. Yet you'd never drop that smile.

That dammned smile...

He couldn't stand how you were trying to cheer him up.

Trying to ease his grief even before your death.

He tried everything, potions, spells, medicines, rituals. None worked. Only an elf would have the cure. And he killed them all.

It's all his fault....

He repeats it over and over in his head as he holds your hand. Still breathing.. barely.

A week ago, you had fallen asleep, only to remain so, a coma.

One his doctors decided you'd never wake up from.

So he sat by your bed, day to night. He knew this was it, you were dying. Slowly... painfully... beautifully.

The crystal shards had grown over one of your eyes, like a twisted eyepatch. Making you look eternal.

Why couldn't they just go back to their childhood.

He should have never left you for the dark arts...

Look at you now.

Taking your last breath...

The last.

While he holds your hand.

Tears welling up in his eyes.

He shouldn't cry.

It's beneath him.

But... You're gone.

Forever.

_____☆_____

LOL, what did i just do?

I suppose i was feeling silly. RIP bestie of Sauron.

I got inspired by my character AI convo by the bot i made.

Tough that one didnt let me die, but ya know, emotion. link to that bot here: https://c.ai/c/lJhHpTBSSW7ipW6qUuV6DZqAaTwJXK5QrvghVSjw3uI

Have a nice day and do request stuff if ya want!

Words: 2890

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[fountainpenguin]

"I was climbing, now I'm falling- I've been pushed off by a man who has made it to the top and now defends it 'cuz he can…" (x)

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New Dog's Life chapter today! ~ 3rd Life series fan-season

Chapter 38 - “Tuesday: Tango's Long Night”

❤️ Read on AO3

💛 Start from Chapter 1

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

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Tango layers more anti-viruses in Scott's player file. This goes against everything he knows about corrupted code... Should he keep going? ... Or, without consent, do what he knows will actually save this man?

Meanwhile, Pearl balances Rhetoric, Scott, and Grian visiting her unit at the same time. Yeah, this is gonna go well.

# 1 of 7 of our monthly intermission chapters

(First 1,000 words under the cut)

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Tango

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Location: His studio, West Bailey Wall, Bottom Floor

🖤  🖤  🖤

Tango does not often regret choosing a path of codework. He loves modding. He loves adding pretty details; he loves giving people what they want and polishing the rough edges off blocky faces and backs and butts. His species is classed as avian, though he last respawned under a waxing crescent and lacks the wings and feathers to show for it. He's got tiny talons, blaze rods, and hair that shifts into flames, and that's it. Coding the fluff-tipped tail he wears now was a challenge that captivated his brain since the start. How do add twitchy muscles to lower back? Apply tail to butt, haha. Meld it in. Let the mind control it. Do it beautifully so it's elegant and won't drop frames.

His tail isn't dexterous, but he wears it like a trophy- Adding a mammal tail to a species that’s meant to have feathers there, and not only making it twitch and curl instead of hang, but look natural, is one of the most difficult things you can ever do with aesthetic mods. He's thinking of forcing out the wings he would have under a stronger moon, but never really got around to it. The conversion time takes a kabillion years. You gotta be careful with wings anyway- they release a lot of body heat. Between's a lot cooler than the Nether, so you might fall over and croak. You ever seen strider wings? Yeah, guess how much heat they put out, even if they are tough and resilient around lava. Anyway.

Let's just say it's a good thing his office doesn't have a window. He works with a lot of film in here, so darkness is peak necessity. He's got two copper bulb lights up tonight. The glow's hazy, but at least it keeps his attention on his work, eyes all goggled up and tongue pinned beneath his teeth. Working with player files isn't like working with redstone wiring, with all its tangled tubes of dust and tiny caps that easily get lost and spill all over the stupid floor. Nah.

Code work uses the coding table, and it's a whole lot less messy. You don't need to be super accurate. It's a lot easier to tap a delete key and remove a string of words than it is to rip out a chunk of wires and get all huffy when your machine stops working. They should sell more partly assembled redstone machines in the market- more than, like, comparators. Except all the serious redstoners still won't buy 'em in case corners were cut in the process and because they have to take 'em apart anyway to modify 'em, so there you go. Fiddling and tweaking can really suck you in. It's kind of like making banners you're printing on your soul.

Tango does not often regret choosing a path of codework. But it's a good thing he doesn't have a window. He glances up only on occasion, staring at the chipped, gunpowder-streaked blocks that separate him from the rest of the world.

I should be with the pack right now.

Hey. Little recap for you: Most people aren't going to bed tonight. The hub flower got skadoodley-yoinked. Without its roots hooked in, everyone's comm is black; they're all off the system. There's no way on a server right now. There's no way out of one either. The phantoms are under contract; they can't just log people out right now. Hope they got fed, then.

Eh, they'll be fine. They've got souls in storage. Tango keeps working, checking details on his screen and typing on the table keyboard. What time is it? The sun's officially gone-zo at 14k. That was a while ago.

Do you remember our biology fritter-fratter from before Dog's Life began? 'course not- That was a long time ago. Well, no worries! we'll cover it again. See, the Nether doesn't have a day-night cycle. The heat waves shift. Sometimes the dimension cools. There's never a schedule to it, but when the heat's down, it's down (whether it's been hours, days, or weeks since the last lull). Nether creatures group together for sleepy times. If Tango played on some of those raw servers where traits are turned up to max, he wouldn't even survive the Overworld- Not without a lot of prep from his friends on the other side. Thank goodness for vanilla servers that even out the playing field.

Blaze don't really hang out alone in Between. When they do, they have to keep their internal fires up, and that can really drain the metabolism. The pack is warm. The pack is safety. And Tango's fingers tremble as he blinks his lashes, pushing through the dimension's fading warmth. Nightfall is here. Capture the Flag will be winding down. It's time to go to sleep.

He does his work. He chose this path. Scott's crystal floats on the crying obsidian block beside him, casting a white glow over his workspace. The goggles tune it out a bit. Tango yawns wide (like one of those lions in the emerald savanna biome), then realizes what he did and shakes his head back and forth. "Brrrr! Whatchu doing?" He smacks himself in the cheek. Hard. "Come on, man- He needs you."

He keeps typing. Scott's code is layered in anti-virus protections. Lots of stuff to dig through. Tango's got a book on the edge of his desk, open to a page about data conflicts, and he's still checking and closing loops. Scott didn't want to amputate. He didn't want a graft. "More anti-virus protections," he said, and he was serious.

"Are you sure? That- That probably won't work. If you wait too long, there's no chance a graft will take. That kinda sets you up for like, either being an allay with a prosthetic or just a vex."

"No grafts, please. Just tell me where to sign."

"Okay, buddy… but that's against medical advice. Don't say I didn't warn you."

"He prob'ly would've listened to Etho," he mutters, typing more. "I swear, everybody thinks I just do visuals: slap a little colored fire on this guy, slap some wings on her… Hey, just because I work in the aesthetics department, it doesn't make my license any less legit. I've been doing this almost as long as he has." Who scrubbed in to save Impy? Who helped him and Skizz with the soul-sharing? Who once patched BigB up when he got shot in the neck? That was a Tango original. Just me. Why is he even doing this? All evidence in book and mind is screaming that this isn't going to work.

Fingertips stall. Blank stare. Soft breathing.

Scott would've listened to my medical advice if I was Etho. Should he have tried harder? Should he have done more? He got the signature, Scott confirming exactly what he wanted. He really shouldn't go against that. It'd be medical malpractice at this point.

… Even though the anti-viruses aren't going to stop him from becoming a vex.

Which he's trying to avoid by using stupid anti-viruses.

[Full chapter on AO3 - Link at top]