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ancha-aus · 2 days ago

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Gifted Drabble - NewAgeAU - Gone

So. This idea just came to me! And I got cooking! @spotaus I hope you are happy! Because this time?

I am actually AIMING to make this a gutpunch >:D

Enjoy. The middle brother. Fresh :) (Also spot!! I couldn't find the art you did on Fresh so i had to wing it a litle bit lmao!)

Also warning. Unbetad and unedited :D

*-----------------------*

Fresh is running through the streets.

He is an idiot and a horrible brother.

He just thought!

Fresh groans as he taps his foot. Very impatiently waiting for the bridge to lower to pass the canal. Heck!! The night before he had been convinced it was still Wednesday! He had been planning on leaving towards home on Thursday morning so he would be home before the evening to do some grocery shopping.

To make sure he was prepared for when Error came home for the weekend from school.

Only! To realise when the morning actualyl hit! That it was Friday already! He was late! So very late!

The bridge is finally down and he rushes over it, pushing other people aside to make room as he runs down the streets.

Fresh is an idiot!!

He promised Error that he would be there when Error came home! That they would do the home chores on the Friday he got home and to get some nice pick up to eat! Then the whole Saturday would be for them to enjoy and hang out with before Fresh would have to walk his little brother to the ride back to his school!

Fresh had just... He had been so nervous. The first weekend that Geno had been gone. That it had just been Fresh and Error... Fresh hadn't known what to do. Fresh is so used to being out and about and now he had to step up as older brother instead of just letting Geno do it.

In his defence! Geno is really good at it. and Fresh is very unsave. Which is very unrad of an older brother to be.

Fresh jsut... can't help but see his little brother. His baby brother! As a source of energy and food thanks to that rude thing in his skull.

Fresh had been jealous of his own brothers and messed around with something too strong and now he can't even hold his little brother or older brother without fearing he will end up eating their magic and hurting them.

Fresh wanted magic so badly... Well... he got it... and he hates it.

Fresh turns another corner as he rushes home. Making sure not to nudge or touch anyone as he goes. A glance at a passing clock and he winces. It is already past eleven. Error should have gotten home at ten in the morning. meaning his little baby brother had been home alone for the last thirteen hours.

Fresh really is the worst brother...

He promised!! He promised after the disasterous first weekend he would be there for Error the next one! But well, the second weekend Fresh just hadn't known waht to do with Error. They just did chores together and that was it. Fresh just couldn't deal with Error being near. With that thing in his skull just wanting to use Error as a source of food. Error would sit down next to him and Fresh would have to think of another excuse to move away! He didn't even know what to say or what to talk about with Error.

Fresh hadn't wanted this weekend to be the same. He wanted to do better this time. So when Error had been picked up for school Fresh had set out, even if Geno specifically asked Fresh to remain home. Fresh needed to do this! He had been planning to camp deep in the forest to let the parasite thing feed on natural magic. Then by the time it was Wednesday he would be safe to be around! Go home on Thursday and do the chores needed. Then when Error got home on Friday he would have gotten groceries already and be able to at least make him some breakfast to eat while he got his stuff washed. They could check Error's school supplies and make sure his homework was done. Then Friday night they would relax and play some games and eat nice take out food.

The Saterday would have been something fun! Some outing or something and Fresh could give Error the surprise he promised last weekend-

Fresh freezes. He forgot the surprise!! He forgot to get anything!!

Okay. it is fine! Maybe. Maybe they can go get some nice ice cream and go star gazing!! Wait... did Error still enjoy star gazing? Fresh glances up and frowns. Right... rain and cloudy.

Not that either of those matters as stars were hard to see around here... Something about the smoke from the many facturies and the magical and fake lights ruining the nightsky view...

Maybe... Maybe Fresh can take Error out to the forest with him? Go camping! Oh that can still work- Except it can't as Error needs to be home early on Sunday to make sure he is packed for school and on time for his ride.

Why is this so hard?! How did Geno do this so easily?!

He finally gets home and pushes the door open "Error I am so sorry-" the room is dark?

Fresh frowns as he looks around. He doesn't spot Error anywhere and doesn't spot any candles lit. The fireplace isn't even lit. Did... Did Error go to bed- wait he didn't do groceries yet. His little brother went to bed hungry? Not only did Fresh fail with being here he didn't even make sure that Error had stuff to eat!

Fresh groans as he rubs his face. He wnats to smash his own skull against the wall. This is so stupid! He should have!!

Maybe he should have just stayed home. Like Geno asked him to do. To be here in case Error needed him while Geno got their new home ready. But... Fresh had just wanted to do this weekend better. To actually be able to be a brother for once. He had wanted the parasite pacified and...

Fresh goes towards side of the room as he rubs his hands together. It is really cold in here... Why didn't Error start a fire?

Fresh gets to the cabinet holding their firemaking supplies and checks it. Only to find it empty.

Fresh groans as he just lays his face in his hands. Great. Not only did he let his brother come home to an empty house when he promised he would be there. He also left the house bare of both food and fire supplies. Meaning his little brother was not just alone and hurt by Fresh breaking his promise, again. But also was hungry and cold.

He is the worst. He is the worst brother ever.

Fresh looks at the door towards their small shared bedroom. He pushes himself up and inches over. He wants to rush in and apologise. Promise he will be better. But what if Error is asleep? Maybe it is better to let him rest as Fresh tries to fix what he can? Get some groceries and stuff? Maybe he can find Error's bag and clean his things still! Maybe they can still have the whole Saturday at least!

Fresh nods and slowly opens the door. He glances around and frowns. Three empty beds. That... That isn't what he expected. Fresh glances up towards the small string made hammock near the ceiling. Error did enjoy being up high... Fresh inches closer and slowly climbs on top of the bed "Error? are you awake?" barely above a whisper.

Fresh slowly rises to full height as he gathers his nerves to look at his little brother "I am so sorry. I swear i will do better and make it up to you.".

Fresh half expects Error to speak up and remind him that he already promised that twice and failed at it. That Fresh should jsut leave.

But no answer comes.

Fresh finally dares to look into the string nest to meet Error's rage or see his brother sleep peacefully. Only to see no one is there.

Fresh stares at the empty nest. He checks all three beds again. Finding no one. Fresh checks the closet to see if Error hid in there. No one again.

Fresh feels panic start to overtake his soul as he rushes out of the room. Looking around desperately for Error "Error!? Where are you hiding broski!" Fresh looks around and can't help but notice that he doesn't see Error's jacket on the coat hanger. He doesn't see Error's backpack anywhere.

No. No no no no. Maybe... Maybe he jsut got hungry! Maybe he is just getting some food from somewhere!

Fresh rushes towards the kitchen and checks their emergency jar. All the gold that had been in there is gone. Good. Good!! That. That means that Error took the gold to get some food! That is great!

Fresh leans against the counter and sighs in relieve. He can just use the time now to clean some stuff up then. Maybe he can still make this weekend right.

Fresh grins as he looks back to the door to get his bag when he sees it. Some kind of letter on the table. Fresh frowns as he walks over. There is a very thin layer of house dust on it and Fresh brushes it off.

Huh. the seal keeping it close is from the academy. Fresh shrugs as he uses his clawed finger to open the letter. He grabs the paper and with the light from his eye lights reads it.

To Error's Caretaker.

Huh. Right. as they don't have a family name Fresh supposes they would do it like this. Though Fresh is very sure they used to just address Geno directly. Seems like this was their go to when Geno told them Fresh would be serving as main caretaker for Error.

We are regretful to inform you that we have been forced to make the hard decision to expel Error from our esteemed Academy and curriculum.

It was a hard decision but after all that has happened and the past problems Error has had with the easier classes it seems best to not continue Error's education at our establishment.

We understand that this is a shock and for this reason we will allow a grace period where you are able to apply for us to reconsider our decision. If you want to appeal to us make sure to write us a letter before Friday to ensure we have enough time to process your request and prepare a response.

Fresh doesn't even wait. His hands shake as he searches the room for things to write with and finds the smaller magical envelope to send his reply in. He finds some paper and writes the letter as quickly as possible. His soul pounding wildly. He quickly writes how it is a stupid decision as Error is amazing with magic and complex spellwork. That he just doesn't feel challenged in the easier classes and needs something more challenging to keep him engaged in the classes. Fresh makes sure to remind them that Geno is Error's brother and Geno was their best stupid they had ever had with perfect marks for his classes and having been able to craft complex spells beyond even the level of the professors. That Geno reassured them that Error was just as talented in magic and would make unbelieveable things.

Fresh checks his letter quickly. it isn't the best handwriting but that had always been terrible and Fresh doesn't have the time to reconsider. He isn't sure what time it is but he refuses to be too late for this. He puts the letter into the envelope and closes it up by alligning the seal on it. The letter starts to float and twirls around before disappearing.

Fresh quickly grabs the letter and keeps reading.

We understand this is a huge shock but we request you to rememebr that this was not an easy decision for us either.

Fresh glares "Yeah that is just a lie! You guys were always mean and rude and uncool to Error." Just because Error's magic is different and Error uses it differently. He had heard enough talks between Geno and Error this. Maybe Error is hiding soemwhere in the house? Worried Fresh won't get it and will get mad at him?

Which is stupid. Fresh could never be mad at him.

Fresh looks around "Error? I promise and swear I am not mad. These guys are just stupid and unrad for not seeing how amazing and talented and skilled you are!" No answer.

Fresh looks back at the letter and finds where he left off.

We also understand that it will be a shock to have this happen at the start of the week.

His soul feels like it stupid pulsing. No... No...

But we made sure he was brought home safely even if it is much earlier. He will have all of his supplies with him and we have enclosed a list of all of these items. If anything is missing please send a copy of the list included back with a letter to explain the missing item.

Thank you for your understanding Yours truthfully,

Afterwards it is just the principles name but that isn't what catches Fresh's attention. Becuase the date that is next to the signature. To signal this was writen and send with Error to him. Dates back to Monday... Four full days ago.

Error... Error had gotten home on Monday...

Fresh drops the letter as he looks around in a panic. The house doesn't feel lived in. There is some dirt and dust already gathering because nothing was used and it hadn't been aired out. Error's jacket and shoes aren't near the door. Error's bag is gone as well. He took some money.

Fresh runs outside as he whistles loudly.

A rumble from the ground and moments later his beast frees itself from the ground. It doesn't look like any normal animal. It is a strange large worm thing with fur and bright colours. The eyes are strange and it has a beak.

Fresh stares at it "Find Error. Find his scent or trace or trail or anything! As soon as you find it come back to me and lead me there." His large creature tilts its head all the way in a circle much like an owl before disappearing into the ground again.

Fresh meanwhile starts running. He prays Error is by the shops in main street. Maybe he is just hanging aorund the stores to steal things and hide nearby. Fresh knows all three of them have gone that before. Fresh just also knows that gangs tend to hang around there and Fresh does not want one of those heathens to hurt his brother!

He gets there and checks the stores first. Ntohign looks broken into but Error can also do magic to make himself invisible as easy as breathing. Fresh makes sure to be obvious about being there and searching. If Error is watching he may see that Fresh is looking for him and come out? hopefully?

No Error however and Fresh rushes into the alleyways around the stores. Checking every single one carefully. Making sure to grab some guy waiting in said sidestreet. Seeing as the other tried to stab Fresh.

The guy sputters and looks terrified.

Fresh just glares "Who else have you attacked this week?"

The guy sputters and tries to breka free from his hold but Fresh just holds on tighter "Tell. me."

The guy shudders and tries to shrink in on himself "Jsut some humans! Rich folk that had no right to be here! Just stole some money but didn't hurt anyone! I swear!" Fresh can smell the scent of fear. It reeks but a tiny part of himself, the part of his soul that is now directly connected to that parasite, purrs at the scent of fear. Like he is hunting.

Fresh drops the other. Barely taking note of the fact the other looks exhausted and is a lot paler. Fresh leaves the sidepath and looks around. Error isn't here.

Fresh gorans as he rubs his sockets. Trying to think. Where could he have gone. Maybe he went to the hill just out of city limits? On the edge of the forest?

Fresh doesn't like that idea as there are some wild animals and beasts in those forests that can and will try to hunt his brother. Fresh knows that Geno told Error to stay away from there. Fresh still turns and starts running. it is best he checks. just in case.

Getting out of the city always takes a while but getting up the hill is just annoying. It is slippery thanks to the rain and Fresh loses his footing quite a few times.

But he gets there with only a bit of mud on his jacket. It doens't matter however as Fresh searches the area. He doesn't see or smell anything that could suggest Error has been here. Fresh still walks afew steps into the forest to check those just in case.

The amgic had done a lot to him. It had changed him. First and foremost was his connections to animals and his beasts. his new magic affecting the animals that become close to him and turning them into one of his beasts. He has a special connection to them.

But he himself had changed. He was stronger, faster. His senses had improved tenfold if not more. His phalanges having turned sharper and clawlike. The way he could now feed on the magic and energy of others. Steal it like a leech.

There is a good reason Fresh tries to stay away from the city. to stay at a distance from his brothers.

Fresh manages to get back to the city when he hears the sound of digging. Fresh turns and waits with held breath as his worm beast comes out of the ground. It stares at him and Fresh knows it. It has found a trace of Error.

Fresh doesn't even need to give the order. It already knows what Fresh wants and leads him back into the tunnel. The tail at the end closing the hole behind them as Fresh remains on its back.

It is dark and everything smells of dirt and garbage. The city really needs to spend more time on keeping the streets clean.

The worm stops and digs up and Fresh is back on the streets. He ignores the few shouts of fear and running steps as he lands on the ground. He looks around as the fur covered worm raises this small wrapper. Fresh takes it with care and takes adeep breath. It smells of greasy food. a burger. Seems like they used the off brand cheese. But he can also small it. Something that almost smells like strings nad wool of materials Error always carries and his jacket. a very tiny bit of wood which should be his knitting needle. the scent of bones of course. The potent magic that he is so used to smelling and being near.

Fresh frowns. It is old. This is an old trace. He looks back at his worm "This is old." the worm looks a thim and then at the warper and then back at him.

Fresh frowns. This... this is the newest? Fine. Fresh will work with it then. He takes a deep breatha nd concentrates. Trying to filter all the other scents out and just focus on the scnet of his brother.

He opens his eyes and is happy to note his magic is active. The way there is this swirling misty trail int he air. it is weak and barely there but still there. THe scent trail. Fresh looks back at his beast "Keep searching." THe worm digs back into the ground as Fresh runs after the trail.

He rushes through the streets and ignores anyone shouting at him for bumping into them. Fresh looks around as he keeps shouting error's name in the hope of getting his attention.

As he runs it becomes more and more obvious that error had been making his way towards the outskirts. Which. No?! Fresh knows that the... entertainment district is over there! And Fresh does not trust those kind of sick pervs anywhere near his little brother!

Sure Error had been starting to start his growspurt and shoot up in height but he is only twelve! Fresh does not trust anyone with him!

Fresh is so relieved when it becomes obvious that Error hadn't been aiming to that direction after all. Instead the trail seems to lead towards an old abandoned factury. Why would he go here?

Fresh shakes his skull. He doesn't want to think about it. It doens't matter. He will ask Error when he dragged his younger brother home and got him comfortable in about five blankets.

Fresh gets to the building and frowns as the scent trail keeps getting thinner. At least it seems like error didn't actually went into the old building becuase it is close to falling apart and Fresh does not want to think about how hurt he could have gotten if his magic got explosive again and the building came down on him.

Fresh continues moving and reaches the edge of the city. Realising that... Error left... He left the city.

Fresh stands at the edge. staring into the distance. the open road with nothing there. Fresh pants as he stares ahead. His skull spinning. That does he do now? What does he do?! Fresh puts his face into his hands. Error... Error ran away? He left?

Then again... What did he expect? Fresh hasn't exactly been a good brother at all. In matter of fact. Fresh had been a terrible brother. He wouldn't even show affection to Error. He didn't even make sure things were taken care of for when error got him.

Geno ASKED HIM! Geno BEGGED him to remain home. To just skip the far away feeding and feed the parasite by going into the city. Geno had told him so many times that Error would need Fresh. That Geno is so sorry to place this on Fresh but Geno needs to go to Sanctuary to get everything ready for them.

This was suposed to be their break!! Geno had already pulled the strings he could to make sure bother Fresha dn Error could move with him. Geno told them he was going to get their new home ready and look for the best tutors for Error with his magic and for the best healers for Fresh. Sanctuary is a very magical country with many many skilled individuals. Geno had high hopes to finally get them settled somewhere good. Somewhere where they could be happy!

And... and Fresh ruined it. Because Fresh decided he knew better than Geno. Because Fresh couldn't deal with being near his little brother and he is just the worst. Error had been so sad to see Geno go and Fresh ahdn't even tried to comfort him.

Fresh shakes rubs his sockets harshly. a strange singlike grumble from beside him and Fresh realises his beast is back to his side.

He needs to fix this. Fresh sint'sure if he can but he needs to try. He owns it to Error. He owns it to Geno.

Geno had found him wihtin an hour and Fresh had managed to get hismelf infected with a parasite.

Fresh doesn't want to know all the trouble Error could run into in the four, by now almost five days he had been on his own.

Fresh takes a deep sigh and nods. He is going back to the house and pack lightly for another trip. Leave one of his beasts at the house and then get traveling.

He can track. He can follow trails. He will use everything he can to find his brother.

No matter what it takes.

----

Fresh wants to cry. Though he had been crying for the last three hours already.

He had followed Error's trail all the way from Ironfields to Orchard over the course of a full week. And that had scared him more than anything. Wiht how close Orchard lays to no-mans land around the Whistlers territory. Not to forget Fresh thinks there was this whole thing about some crazy king in this kingdom? He isn't sure he isn't big on politics.

Fresh had searched. He had searched the whole city the trail had lead to. But nothing.

The trail just... ended at a dead end.

He had ended in some kind of arena. The scent of Error's magic had been so strong there and he had felt so hopeful. He had searched the whole area but nothing.

Aside from the very obvious blasted top of the arena. Fresh asked around and while most people jsut looked at him disgusted by his accent some people mentioned how there were wizard try outs.

Fresh asked specificially about a young skeleton. black bones. powerful magic.

Some people looked thoughtful before mentioning how they think they heard something about it but that the guards took care of it.

Took. Care. Of. It.

Fresh had tried to find other stories but it came down to the same thing over and over. Some young skeleton did a too large spell. A lot of damage got down before the guards got to them and stopped them before they could hurt anyone.

Fresh was shaking. Error wouldn't hurt anyone unless they gave him a reason.

Fresh sobs as he srubs his sockets. He was too late. He messed up and now... Now...

How is he going to tell Geno this? How is he going to tell him that he failed in every single aspect of being a brother and got their baby brother killed?

Fresh sobs as he jjust throws his stupid glasses away. it shatters somewhere. He doens't care.

He doesn't want this stupid power. He wants to go back to being weak and boring and normal.

He doesn't want to be special anymore.

He just wants his brother back.

Please. Please give him back.

He is sorry.

So sorry.

#NewAgeAU #I looked at the silly guy and the tragic story and decided.#I am gonna make him feel terrible :D #The challenge i had for myself.#Can i make a serious angst filled drabble with Fresh as focus while still sneaking in his weird way of speaking?#I think i succeed :D #I am rather happy with this one. It isn't exactly as i imagined but it is how close i will get wiht this drabble :)

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protags-latenight-vents · 1 year ago

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having npd sometimes is just:

i need supply. i can not ask for supply. people should simply Know to give me supply because im that important. if i do not get supply i am going to purposely make myself worse so i get the attention i want. Give me supply. stop talking. i do not have the supply to give a single shit about whatever you are talking about. god you are so fucking boring who the fuck do you think you are?

#did i make this in specific hopes that i will get supply #yes. i did #actually npd #vent

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ailesswhumptober · 6 months ago

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Prompts for AI-less Whumptober 2024

As promised, we're bringing you the official prompt list of AI-less Whumptober 2024 today!

We have 31 days of excellent whump prompts, with three prompts per day to pick from, fun themes, and 10 alt prompts to play around with. We hope you enjoy! Additional info + plain text versions of the prompts can be found under the cut.

FAQ and Rules

What sort of content can I create for this event?

You can create whatever you want (fic, art, edits, etc). Any fandom is allowed, as well as OC stuff. NSFW is allowed, but please tag your content accordingly! The only thing not allowed is AI-generated content.

Do I need to make 31 things to participate?

Oh heavens no! You can make as much or as little content as you like, skip days when desired, or combine prompts (so for example, write something that covers a prompt from day 1, 2, AND 3). You don't have to do the days in order either, go wild! To be considered a 'completionist', you only have to make sure that at the end of the month, you've covered 31 prompts from 31 different days, but whether you do that in 31 works or just 1 is up to you.

What are these alts about?

If none of the three prompts of a particular day are your cup of tea, you can swap them out for an alt prompt of your choice.

What are these themes about?

Just a little bit of extra fun for the mods. Like last year, we'll be handing out various badges for people participating in the event. A full list can be found here, perhaps there is a special badge or two for people who can't be completionists but who do manage to finish every single day of a specific theme ;)

How do I tag and is there an AO3 collection?

It suffices to tag your work with #ailesswhumptober for us to see and reblog it! Please also tag nsfw, since we'll be using that tag too. Tagging the day is optional but does help the mods along.

There is an AO3 collection to add your fics to here.

That should be all. If you have any additional questions, check our pinned or hit us up in the ask box. Or join our discord maybe, whumping can be a great group activity!

---

Plain text versions of the prompts:

October 1 - Torture Tuesday

public torture/public use, stress position, “If you cry, we’ll go easy on you.”

October 2 - Whumperless Wednesday

Unfortunate fall, car accident, “Don’t move. You’ll be okay.”

October 3 - Trauma Thursday

Shared trauma, survivor’s guilt, “It’s not your fault.”

October 4 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Painful transformation, non-consensual body modifications, “You’re a monster.”

October 5 - Sensory Saturday

Overstimulation, migraines, “I can’t take this anymore.”

October 6 - Surprise Sunday

Multiple whumpees, self sacrifice, “I’m the only one who can do this.”

October 7 - Medical Monday

Field medicine, running out of supplies, “Hold on, we’re going to have to improvise.”

October 8 - Torture Tuesday

Rope burns, gagged, “You’re so much prettier this way.”

October 9 - Whumperless Wednesday

Hypothermia, heatstroke, “You look pretty pale.”

October 10 - Trauma Thursday

Self worth issues, pushing away a loved one, “You don't need to earn this.”

October 11 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Hallucinations, truth serum, “Why would you even say that?”

October 12 - Sensory Saturday

Isolation, sensory deprivation, “Can you feel me? I’m right here, whumpee.”

October 13 - Surprise Sunday

Whumpee using themself as bait, defiance, “Take me instead.”

October 14 - Medical Monday

Seizures, concussion, “See if you can follow my finger with your eyes.”

October 15 - Torture Tuesday

Waterboarding, removing body parts, “Don’t break down on me yet.”

October 16 - Whumperless Wednesday

Drowning, hostile environment, “I don’t know how anybody could survive that.”

October 17 - Trauma Thursday

Abandonment, misunderstanding, “Why did I even think you cared?”

October 18 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Mind control, possession, “Everybody will end up despising you.”

October 19 - Sensory Saturday

Disassociation, losing a sense, “I wish I could get you back.”

October 20 - Surprise Sunday

Enemy/Stranger to caretaker, accidental de-aging, “I’m absolutely not qualified for this shit.”

October 21 - Medical Monday

Drugged, ambulance ride, “This will make you feel better, okay?”

October 22 - Torture Tuesday

Forced (to kneel/watch/hurt somebody else), whipped, “Do not look away.” October 23 - Whumperless Wednesday

Fever, passing out, “Hey?! Stay with me, okay?!”

October 24 - Trauma Thursday

Deconditioning, relapse, “It’s normal that you need more time.”

October 25 - Fright/Freaky Friday

Humiliation, betrayal, “How could you?!”

October 26 - Sensory Saturday

Electrocution, burning, “This is going to sting.”

October 27 - Surprise Sunday

Before vs after, Alternate universe, “Well, there’s a first for everything.”

October 28 - Medical Monday

Internal bleeding, needles and stitches, “I didn’t think the wound was that bad…”

October 29 - Torture Tuesday

Ownership, branding, “Everybody will know that you’re mine.”

October 30 - Whumperless Wednesday

Poison, delirium, “You’re not making sense.”

October 31 - Trauma Thursday

Panic attack, facing a phobia, “You need to get out of here!”

Alt prompts:

1) Pistol whipped

2) Co-dependency

3) Animal bite

4) Zombies

5) White room torture

6) Shock collar

7) Pulling teeth

8) Kidnapping

9) “You always make everything worse!”

10) “If you weren’t around, I’d be long dead by now...”

#whumptober 2024 #whumptober #ailesswhumptober2024 #whump prompt #whump event

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xazse · 6 months ago

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Hello z! Just wanted to say your writing is so yummy and keeps me and the rest of your followers so full😋 BTW! More puppy girl hybrid?? (P.s this is my first request 🙂‍↕️❤️)

PT 2 OF MY MOST RECENT PUPPYGIRL!HYBRID FIC FOR THOSE WHO ASKED!!

PT1 HERE

Notes: IM SO HAPPY IM UR FIRST REQUESTEE! I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS!! And I’m super glad you enjoy my writing it really means a lot<33

Warnings: Hybrid!Gojo + fem!reader + PuppyHybrid!Reader + smut + small Drabble + not proofread + brat!reader + little bit of sub!Satoru + nipple!teasing + slight crying + overstimulation + mean!Suguru + exhibition

People who asked to be tagged: @qmsvpx @sugurubabe @shokosbunny @rinsluhvr @fuyuji-ii @mashtura @wisteriaflowersss @kickenkricken @rinsluhvr @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni I hope you guys enjoy!

WolfHybrid!Gojo who really can’t take all the teasing you’ve been putting him through. After the first incident Suguru made it 100 percent clear to you specifically that you are to not touch Satoru like that again, who knows what will happen if he’s not around. He’s not scared Satoru will hurt you but he should be eased into the world of pleasure not immediately made to cum on himself his first day in what is now his home.

Suguru scolds you bad, telling you how disappointed he is, how you know better! He knows how needy hybrids get especially your species but the toys he supplies for you should be more than enough. All you did in retaliation was make it a goal to ruin Satoru… poor thing why is he the victim in all of this? And yet he doesn’t even know.

You ignore Suguru’s rule when it’s just you and Satoru in the house.

You make an effort to rub yourself all over his body while wearing the thinnest layer of clothing, when he’s laying on the couch facing the ceiling you’ll come lifting his shirt up and licking all over his chest, even sucking on his nipples as extra stimulation. You love his reactions, everything makes him fully hard and his loud moans fill the empty living room. He can’t process what to do with this pleasure besides grabbing and fondling his cock until he’s finishing in his pants again.

It doesn’t take long for him to be hard all over again, and for you to repeat the process. If he asks if you can help him feel like that again you’ll force him to rub your ears for a good five minutes.

WolfHybrid!Gojo who gets to feel what it’s like being balls deep in your cunt, when you sink your nice ass to meet his pelvis, the poor wolf is fucking gone, he’s never felt something so tight around his cock, he’s never felt anything around his cock! Your plush walls squeeze him so good that he’s having a hard time forming sentences let alone words, all that’s slipping from his pretty slippery pink lips are moans, moans that emphasize how his balls are tightening and he’s cumming deep inside you.

You’re quick to start bouncing so cutely on him, your floppy ears bouncing along with you. Your toys don’t compare to Satoru’s thick cock, how has a woman never felt something like this? You can feel the twitching of his veins as he gets it up once again. You peek at his face to find the wolfman ruined, drool seeps from the corners of his lips and tears are decorating his lash lines.

When you finally cum, it’s a damn mess, the mixture of you two sit where you meet and seep out. The pleasure in the moment doesn’t have you thinking of what Suguru will do to you, doesn’t matter what he will do to the both of you, all you can think of is grinding down on Satoru’s cock for another orgasm.

Bonus!

Suguru is fucking furious, he was mad the first time but he let it slide since it simple curiosity on both sides. The simple curiosity has gone too far, you don’t fucking listen. Since the moment he had welcomed you into his home a few years back he’s had a hard time getting you to listen to directions.

He doesn’t hear you out when he drags you and Satoru to the bedroom, in fact he tells the both of you to keep going. You find yourselves shy under his eye and insist that you’ve both learned your lesson from his lecture earlier. He wasn’t really lecturing Satoru since he doesn’t know the rules as well as you do but this is a great learning moment.

He ignores you, ignores how you’re using the sweet eyes with him, he’s dead serious.

You’re quick to obey and incite a small kiss with Satoru, that turns into a full on make-out with Suguru watching intently.

The rest of the night is filled with moans and groans of complaints, Suguru had told Satoru to let any lewd feelings he had all on you, Satoru does not hold back at all, he fucks his thick cock into your sensitive walls over and over, the mess from earlier helps as to not hurt you so it’s so easy for him to slide back and forth. Satoru found himself ecstatic at the start but when he finds his cock overstimulated and his balls hurting from the painful pleasure he’s not feeling the same, but he for some reason won’t stop his hips from moving, he loves the feeling of having you cum around him nonstop, he loves Suguru watching him so intently, everything mixed together.

Your clit is so slippery that it’s hard to pinpoint where you should be rubbing, everytime you stop Suguru is quick to snap at you to keep going, this is what you wanted correct? He makes sure to ask that out loud, you’re so fucking adorable with the way you nod in his direction, he knows you have a few more in you.

#zsworks #fem reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #gojo smut #gojo x female reader #hybrid reader #hybrid gojo x reader #hybrid gojo #satoru gojō x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #wolfhybrid!gojo #wolf gojo

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just-an-anon-reader · 1 month ago

Text

The Forgotten Sister

Pairing: Ekko x Fem!Reader

Tags: Minimal use of Y/N, no specific description of the reader, friends to lovers, CW blood, CW injury, CW, violence, CW guns, TW death.

A/N: Soo I just couldn't wait! My brain was goin into hypersimp

Prologue — Chapter II

Chapter 1

It's been seven years since then. You've grown and changed. Granted, your leg remained weak, leaving you limping, but the rest grew strong. Responsibility tends to have that effect on the people who bear it. Almost immediately after Ekko founded the Firelights, group consensus made you the resident saw-bones.

How? You hadn't the slightest idea. You did, however, have a lingering suspicion that Ekko had a hand in it. Especially with his vastly exaggerated recounting of the time you popped back Vi's dislocated wrist after she thought it would look cool to punch a concrete wall with her bare knuckles. Although you initially accepted the role reluctantly, you performed it in great stride. Applying everything you knew from your own experience as a sickly child while learning the rest from tomes Ekko would you bring every now and then from their scavenges. You grew to become a pretty skilled makeshift doctor. From common colds to bullet wounds, everyone entrusted their lives to you. Ekko, most of all.

And today was supposed to be just another day as a makeshift doctor.

Just beneath a set of branches on the firelight tree stood your infirmary. Big enough only to house ten patients at a time, it was considered one of the largest areas in the hideout. It might not have been the prettiest, made up of strewn-together sheets of steel and wood bolted at the seams, but it did just fine. Inside, standing in front of a row of cabinets, assumingly counting the stock of medical supplies, was you. Your lab coat swayed with the gentle breeze that drafted in from the open doorway. The wooden floorboards slightly squeaking as you leaned against your cane. Mind adrift to the events from earlier that morning.

"You be careful out there, Ekko. Salve and bandages can only do so much," you say, stuffing his right jacket pocket with supplies. Bandages, salves, ties for bleeding, pain meds... were you missing something?

"You make it sound like you haven't saved lives with those," he chuckles.

Noticing the subtle trembling of your hand, Ekko reaches for it. Pausing your mission to stuff his pocket with the whole infirmary and instead giving it a gentle squeeze in the hopes of comforting you. It always worried you every time they went out on missions. They never ended cleanly. Some would never come back. While others would end up rushed into a cot in the infirmary. Their blood soaking the floor, staining it red. It was never a pretty sight.

"Salve won't magically close bullet wounds or weld back hacked-off arms," you bite back, returning his comfort with your own.

"Just... come back home. In one piece, preferably," you say, looking up at him.

"We will, Firelight," he replies, gently bumping his forehead against yours. Closing his eyes as he breathed in the scent of you. Antiseptic and lavender. Weird, but uniquely you.

You did the same. Basking in his warmth, in the feel of him. Letting the butterflies flutter in your gut as you felt the tips of your ears flush. After a moment, you step away from each other. Confident and resolute. Ekko gave you a firm nod before walking away...

"-C! DOC!" A voice boomed, snapping you out of your reverie with a squeak of surprise.

A man stood beside you. He had large wing-like ears and a cut pink button nose that looked out of place on his gruff face. Scar.

"Geez! You scared me! And when did you get here?" you say.

"I've been calling for you since I got in here. Get your head back on your shoulders. You got a few to patch up. Nothing serious this time, " he said as three boys from the group started filling the space.

You saw to them, one by one. A couple of bruises, some cuts, a nick or two from a grazed bullet that'd need a few stitches. But nothing too serious. Good.

"What happened out there?" you asked, cleaning away the filth and gunk that stuck to the dried blood on one of the boy's shoulders.

A hush fell over the conversation. Confused at the sudden silence, you turn your attention to the chimeran. Scar had that look. The one you've gotten used to since the situation with Silco started to escalate. Started to turn more... violent. When it began to become... personal.

Jinx...

"I see, and Ekko?" you ask as you grab a pack from the cabinet.

"'Course you'd ask about him." Scar teased. Earning a glare from you. "He's fine. Just finishing up. I'm sure he'll come over soon." He says, walking away, his tone not any less teasing.

You could only scoff at his antics. For such a rough and gruff person, his penchant for teasing certainly takes some getting used to. Focusing on the task, you tenderly clean the area around the wounds. Expertly stitching and bandaging with a quick and skilled hand. Before long, all three boys lay fast asleep on their cots. Ice towels on their bruises and bandaged arms or legs angled away to keep them from snagging. Satisfied with your work, you started cleaning up. Throwing away bloodied gauze and used needles while saving the rest for future use. After all, supplies down here in the under city don’t come cheap. Just as you were about to put away the last pack, Ekko's voice called to you from the entrance of the infirmary.

"Firelight! Get over here. There's something you need to see," he said, tone urgent. Almost... somber.

Worriedly, you hobbled to him as fast as you could, a difficult task when you're also trying not to trip over your cane.

"Hey! What's wrong? You hurt?" you ask, hand on his shoulder, nudging him left and right as you inspect him for any wounds he may or may not be hiding from you.

"I'm fine, I'm fine... but there's someone else you should see," he said, placing a hand on yours on his shoulder. His eyes shifted to something to his right, then back. Pointing.

"Who-"

You felt your breath catch and the wobble in your knees. There stood a young woman. With wild pink hair that glowed where the sun would hit it. And blue eyes that sparkled as they looked at you. She looked tired and haggard. Like she hadn't had enough sunlight in years. But that face... you knew that face. It may have aged over the years, but it was still... hers.

"Vi?"

"Hey there, shortstack. But I see you aren't so short any more. And, I guess it's Doc around here, huh?"

With a stumble, you shuffle towards her. The thunk of your cane against the hardwood floor being the only sound between you two. You stop in front of her at arm's length. Slowly, nervously, you reach out to her, hand trembling as you carefully cup her cheek. It was warm, it was soft, it was... real.

"You're... real?" you whispered.

"I sure am," Vi whispered back. Her own hand reached out to cup yours. Thumb gently rubbing circles on the peak of your cheek.

"You're not a nightmare? Or some ghost here to haunt me 'cause you're still bitter about that time I popped your wrist back wrong?" you said, wet hiccups mixing with blobs of tears gushing out of your eyes. Sniffling as you felt snot beginning to drip from your nose. You always were a messy crier. Pulling you in, Vi embraces you tightly, letting you sob against her shoulder. Drenching the fabric of her jacket with tears and snot.

"I missed you, baby sis. So, so much. I'm so sorry I left you alone. It'll never happen again. Ever." Vi says, holding you tighter. Feeling her own tears beginning to fall, staining your white lab coat gray.

"I missed you too..."

#ekko x fem reader #ekko arcane #ekko x reader #arcane x reader

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imdumbhi · 1 month ago

Text

☆ ＣＡＵＳＡＬ

summary: basically what the title says lol

pairings: vi ✘ fem!reader

warnings: angst, smut

a/n: I hope you enjoy!

╰┈➤ MASTERLIST

If it wasn't for those stupid powder blue eyes, you would have known better to have walked away and not into a fucking wall.

How pathetic of you.

You were knee deep. That cut on her upper lip being the first thing you feel when her mouth collides with yours and feeling blown away by how she kisses you.

Vi kisses you like she misses you. It throws you off a bit because you never been kissed this way before. It's like experiencing a drug for the first time and wanting more because the second she pulls away from kissing you, you crave more.

How did you find her? You found her in a bar, drunk off her ass with no one around to guide her or help her as she babbles about some chick from Topside. You don't care. Yet, Vi did. 'I miss her blue hair' or 'She was so sweet', it was honestly sad. The sight of people like Vi astonishes you because you hadn't seen yourself ever being in their place.

That was foolish of you to believe.

The second you feel her fingers slide teasingly through your wet puffy folds, a moan slips from your mouth and your hips twitch towards her touch. That had your clit twitching for attention. Your glossy eyes with furrow brows then peer down, watching the pad of Vi's thumb move up to rub firmly against your clit. She kisses your gasp away and makes a circular motion.

How did you get here? She kissed you and grope your ass while trying to lead her down a dark alley.

You really couldn't help it. She was so hot.

And she wouldn't stop touching you.

The way she had touched you, taking her time and actually paying attention to how your body responds to her touches — maybe it was the whispers of sweet nothings or the kisses with something sweet and bitter. Or maybe you just don't go out much. The fact that you tried to come up with many excuses to convince yourself that what you were doing was okay when really, you would find yourself staring at a wall. Literally.

The flashes of Vi between your thighs never subsides. That memory has been playing in your head ever since she left the house Sunday afternoon. Her tongue swirling and lapping at your puffy wet folds like a hungry dog, god did she know what she was doing. Your fingers had thread through her pink hair, gripping a fistful and tugging her close to meet your grinding. Your pussy lips and clit sliding back and forth on her flat wet tongue in just the right ways.

"Good? 'Mm..." You remember her raspy voice and the look/feeling of her face when asking against your cunt, teasing your clit with a flick of her tongue and without warning teasing your slick opening. You can feel her tongue push in and push out, the pace slow but Vi kept pushing her face further. Her nose breathing heavily and pretty powder eyes staring greedy for your reaction.

Then there was this aggravating voice-

"Why the fuck are you moping and staring at the wall like that? It's weird, stop it."

"Am not."

"What? Yes you are. I can clearly see you doing it right now."

"Then fucking pretend you don't!"

"I can't! You're in the way!"

"Oh. Why didn't you say so?"

Art, your best friend ever since you were a child, sighs at you like he can't believe you're you and keeps walking by carrying a box of supplies. You and him own a shop in Zaun. It's small but pretty popular since the shop sells specific and expensive pieces of metals of all kinds. How do you get them? Art is pretty friendly and known with a Topsider, they trade a lot. You just don't know what exactly.

He comes back to find you staring but not at nothing, at someone.

"Hello, uh, did you need anything?" Art spoke for you. He then noticed the staring and mouth gaping by you.

The woman doesn't say anything. She does stare back at you.

"I'm so sorry about her." Art apologizes to the woman sincerely.

Silence falls in the shop. You can only hear faint music in the background.

"Wait, did you do something bad?" Art breaks the silence, frowning and squinting his eyes at you when he realizes the woman with pink wild hair is wearing hextech gloves. He knows you can't get that tech just from anywhere.

You break off the staring and blink, turning your head slowly over at Art with a 'what the fuck?' look when he assume you did something to break the law.

Shit is expensive and rare down here in Zaun, he thought as his eyes check the woman out. He could see how attractive and butch the woman was. She did look injured and bloody in some parts of her face but Art hasn't seen anyone like her around and if he had, he knew — he then notice your staring.

"Well did you?" He rose his brows at you.

"No!"

─── ⋆⋅𖤐⋅⋆ ───

She wanted to talk.

Talking isn't this.

Your face flush and press into Vi's shoulder, your nails digging into her back. The sound of slick and wet fills the room, along with skin to skin. The woman above you had her strong hands wrapped around your thighs, holding them as she repeatedly thrusts her hips between your thighs.

Plat! Plat! Plat! Plat!

She felt so incredibly good that it hurt. You shove your face further into her shoulder and dig your nails deeper into her tatted back. She was getting rough, angling her hips and moving deeper. She was practically hitting your cervix. It wasn't fair and she hadn't let you up once. Vi was driven to make you lose control.

"Yessss!" It's cried out and for some reason that just causes Vi to drive harder into you. Shes grunting and huffing on top looking drunk on you. The bed creaking and your eyes shaking with emotion as you watch her above. You almost forget that this is only—

The pink haired girl slips out, you, gasping confuse feel her strong hands guide your ass to straddle her lap. Your pussy glistens and swallows her fake cock in one go, Vi growls at the sight. She starts to help you ride her and you think she's deeper than before.

"That's right..." Her words tickle your skin and you can't help but ride faster, your hips moving back and forth. But then, your eyes find hers when leaning back and you instantly want to be good, better, for her. You start raising your hips and slamming them down, your hands using her shoulders for support.

Plat! Plat! Plat! Plat!

"Ffff-fuck~"

Vi curse with a long moan and with her hands, they move to your ass to grope and squeeze. You gasp at the treatment by her. You suddenly then cry out her name again when she shifts under and thrust up, your vision going white. You didn't expect that but you aren't complaining when you're near the edge.

Everything is completely perfect 'till that name slips from her mouth.

"Caitlyn!"

That's how you found yourself awkwardly stopping and climbing off her lap. You know she's embarrassed when she doesn't stop you or apologize. You could also feel how tense she had been after she said it. You grab a blanket and cover yourself, sitting at the edge of the bed.

"It's fine. Don't worry." You reassured her, tone slightly playful and light, your back turned towards her. You don't know why you said it that way or that in general when it clearly wasn't but you'll believe it because you don't get to be upset. Vi isn't your girlfriend nor will she be, you had to constantly remind yourself what you walked into.

You feel the bed behind you move and suddenly feel empty. You frown and turn your head to find Vi undoing the strap-on. You can see from her pink cheeks and narrowed brows, she was either upset or still embarrassed. Maybe both?

"Vi?"

"Can't even fucking do this without thinking about her..." You caught her muttering under her breath. She's definitely angry with the way she throws the strap across the room. She's huffing and puffing, her mouth trembling.

"Vi." You call her name softer this time.

Glistening powder blue look into your eyes and your heart flutters then twists at the reminder of the woman's clear lover. You could wonder and ask about what had happened but you don't. You wanted to help her forget even if you're left feeling used.

You offer her your hand which she glances at and hesitantly takes. You smile, pulling her back onto the bed.

"My turn."

It's only causal.

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brunchable · 3 months ago

Text

The Door's Locked, but My Lips Aren't | Steve Rogers x f!reader

Pairings: Steve Rogers x f!reader Themes: Forced Proximity. Rivals with Benefits? Verbal Sparring, Flirting through bickering. Summary: When you went to the Avengers' storage room for a quick errand, the last thing you espected is to get stuck with Captain Smug himself, Steve Rogers. With the door refusing to budge, who knew being trapped with your most annoying teammate would lead to an infuriatingly good kiss? A/N: This has been sitting in my drafts for a while. . .

It was just a quick errand to retrieve some equipment. That’s what you told yourself as you headed toward the storage room at the Avengers compound. You were hoping to get in and out without running into anyone—specifically him. But the universe seemed to have a twisted sense of humor.

Because standing right in front of the exact shelf you needed was Steve Rogers, his back turned as he inspected a box of supplies.

You stopped in your tracks, sighing so deeply it felt like your soul left your body. “Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered under your breath, half considering turning around and coming back later.

“What was that?” Steve asked, voice gratingly smug as he turned to face you, an eyebrow raised.

“Nothing,” you said, voice tight and overly polite as you marched past him, heading for the door you’d only half-closed behind you. “Just talking to myself.”

“Not much company then, is it?” Steve’s tone was all mock innocence as he leaned casually against the shelf, crossing his arms and giving you that infuriating, smirking look that made you want to either punch him or… or do something else. But that was beside the point.

You shot him a glare, reached for the door handle, and turned it. It didn’t budge.

“What the—” You pulled again, harder this time. Still nothing.

“Great,” Steve said, his voice dripping with faux sympathy as he peered over your shoulder. “Look what you did.”

“What I did?” You whirled on him, the door handle rattling in your hand. “You were already in here. If anything, it’s your fault.”

“How is it my fault?” Steve looked almost amused now, leaning closer, too close, with that damn infuriating smile of his. “You’re the one who walked in and—what? Forgot how to use a door?”

Your lips parted in shock, and you jabbed a finger into his chest, making him step back. “No, I’m not the one who broke it! What’d you do, Captain America? Shove it too hard with those freakishly big hands of yours?”

Steve blinked, his gaze flicking to your hand still resting on his chest, then back up to your face. Something flared behind his eyes—something hot and challenging.

“First of all,” Steve began slowly, his voice dropping to that low, dangerous murmur, “my hands aren’t freakishly big. They’re just right.”

“Keep telling yourself that,” you shot back, words laced with challenge. “You know what they say about guys who talk too much about their size.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve’s gaze dipped to your lips briefly before snapping back up to meet your eyes, a smug smile forming. “What do they say about girls who—” He paused, gaze dropping to your chest and then back up, brow raised. “—can’t seem to fill out a shirt?”

Your mouth dropped open. “You did not just—”

“What?” Steve shrugged, unbothered by the murderous look in your eyes. “I’m just saying, if you wanna talk size—”

“Oh my god, you are unbelievable.” You threw your hands up, your heart pounding with a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “You think I care about your opinion?”

“Nope, not at all,” Steve said, smirking. “But you’re the one getting worked up.”

“I’m not worked up.” You shot him a fiery look before grabbing the hem of your shirt and yanking it over your head, leaving you in only a snug tank top. “See? Nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of.”

Steve’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second, flicking over your bare arms and shoulders, then lingering on the curve of your neckline. His grin widened.

“There, was that so hard?” he murmured, voice lower now, his gaze hot.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” you bit back, feeling both a thrill and annoyance at the way he looked at you. “I bet you’re feeling warm too. Maybe you should lose a layer.”

“You just wanna see me without a shirt on, huh?” Steve said, his grin widening as he slowly began unbuttoning his shirt. “Alright. Whatever makes you feel better.”

You swallowed as inch by inch, Steve’s chest was revealed. He didn’t stop until his shirt was completely unbuttoned, hanging loosely over those stupid, sculpted muscles.

“Happy?” Steve asked, voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

“Not as happy as you probably think,” you bit out, hating the way your voice wavered.

“Mmhmm. Sure.” He leaned even closer, his breath brushing your ear. “It’s okay to admit you’re curious. I get it.”

“Curious about what?” you scoffed, but your voice came out breathless, the air thickening between you. “About what you’re compensating for under all that spandex?”

Steve’s eyes darkened at that, a challenge sparking in his gaze. “You wanna bet on it?”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What, you gonna whip it out right here?” you fired back, trying to sound bold even as your pulse roared in your ears. “Should I go get a ruler?”

He gave a low chuckle, leaning back a bit but not breaking eye contact. “We both know I’d win. But hey, if you’re looking for proof—”

You didn’t let him finish. In a flash, you pushed him back against the shelf, lips crashing against his in a sudden, heated kiss. Steve responded instantly, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you against him as if you were the only thing grounding him.

The kiss was rough and desperate, all teeth and tongue and pent-up frustration. Your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching against his scalp as you bit down on his bottom lip, earning a low, hungry growl from Steve.

His hands roamed your body, sliding up your back, fingers grazing your bare skin, before one hand cupped the back of your neck, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. You felt his heart hammering against your chest, the heat of his body searing through you as his lips moved against yours, fierce and demanding.

You gasped as Steve’s mouth trailed down your jawline, his teeth grazing the sensitive spot just below your ear, sending a jolt of pleasure through you. Your head fell back against the shelf, eyes fluttering shut as he pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your throat, each one making your pulse race faster.

“Still think I’m compensating?” Steve’s voice was a low growl against your skin, his breath hot and ragged.

Your grip tightened in his hair, tugging just hard enough to make him groan. “Shut up, Rogers.”

Steve grinned against your lips, that damn infuriating smirk still there. “Make me.”

Before you could respond, the door suddenly creaked open, and you both tore apart, lips swollen, breaths coming in harsh pants.

Sam stood there, eyes wide. “Uh… sorry. Didn’t realize you two were, uh, busy.”

Your cheeks flushed as you scrambled to say something, anything. But Steve’s arm was still half around your waist, his shirt unbuttoned, your top askew, and he looked unbothered—more than that, he looked… amused.

“We were just—”

Sam held up a hand, backing away. “Yeah, no, no need to explain. I’ll… just—” He paused, shut the door halfway, opened it again just to shake his head. “You know what, figure it out yourselves. But hey, keep it PG-13, alright?”

And with that, he was gone.

You turned back to Steve, breath hitching as your gazes locked. A slow grin spread across his face, and you knew you were in trouble.

“So, where were we?” Steve asked, voice teasing, that familiar challenge lighting up his gaze.

“Oh, shut up.” You grabbed him by the open shirt, yanking him down until your lips crashed together in a heated, desperate kiss.

Who knew being stuck with Steve Rogers could be so… electrifying?

#steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagines #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x female reader #captain america x reader #captain america fanfiction #captain america x you #captain america imagines #captain america x y/n #captain america x female reader #steve rogers #captain america #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x you #steve rogers fanfic #captain america fanfic

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autumnywinter · 9 months ago

Note

Your Yan!Elliott posts are endlessly fascinating to me. I propose an idea for you if you are up for it: Yan!Elliott finally has his prize all to himself, only to learn he's simply done the job for them. He's not the only obsessed one. He's not got his prize caged up. No no. He's caged with them. Wasn't it always rather odd that his target of infatuation quickly learned everything about him, his schedules, his interests, his favorite foods? Did he ever even notice? (Based a little on the fact that--let's be real--we players are the weird ones)

Omg thank you! :) And true, I would 100% be considered the creep if my farmer's behavior imitated my own irl behavior haha T_T

I made Reader a lot more smug than I normally do. I hope this is good!!

Yandere!Elliott x Reader

Tags/warnings: Suggestive, drugging, mentioned stalking, dubcon (kinda but not really), yandere x yandere, gender neutral reader

Sometimes Elliott felt like he didn't even need to stalk you around the town. He'd walk out of his cabin, camera, binoculars, and caffeine gathered for a stakeout, only for you to be waiting outside with a smile on your face. That same smile that made him feel like he was soaring.

Not only that, but you knew just what he liked. Granted, he'd like anything if it were from you, but he had a whole year's supply worth of pomegranates and ink stocked up in his cabin.

He didn't even want to put either to use, treasuring each item you gave him like a rare gem. He did eventually crack and eat the pomegranates though. He was only human, after all!

There was no doubting it. You were perfect.

Each time he'd write lengthy letters to you, all from your "secret admirer", he'd watch your expressions. You always looked delighted to have received a letter. Though you never once attempted to find out who was sending you them. Elliott wondered if maybe you already knew, but never wanted to get his hopes up.

He made sure to describe how stunning you were in every letter he wrote. It was important for you to know how perfect you were. So perfect, that you didn't deserve to be around anyone else. No one would ever love you as much as Elliott did.

Despite the countless gifts he had received from you, despite you seeming to know his schedule down to a T, he was still determined he needed to win your affection over. All because he needed more.

He needed to hold you. He needed to taste you. He needed to marry you. He needed you.

"Hey, Elliott!"

The writer turned opened his door, delighted to see you. It was a rainy day, which was when he always stayed inside, save for stalking you at specific hours. You'd usually visit him on rainy days, and naturally he'd always be quick to invite you in. He knew you were likely coming over, which was why he already had a nice dinner prepared and everything.

"Come in, please," he said, holding the door open. You hurried inside and removed your wet raincoat, hanging it on the coat rack. Elliott headed straight for the kitchen, where he dished out the dinner he had prepared, along with the spiked wine.

He didn't have any awful intentions, of course! He just... wanted you to himself for a little longer than you normally stayed. That wasn't so wrong, was it? He wanted to savor this.

Besides, it wasn't like it was the first time he had done this.

"How are you?" he asked, sitting down at the table across from you. He waited eagerly for you to take a sip of the wine.

"I'm okay," you replied, giving him a smile that made his heart melt. "Just exhausted. I spent all day working."

He knew. He watched you.

"Then let me give you a nice relaxing time," he suggested, making sure to sound polite as he could. "Drink some more wine. Tell me all about your day." He didn't even realize his lovesick smile listening to you talk. He was excited for you to become sleepy and less aware of your surroundings. Then he could hold you and kiss you and you wouldn't even remember a thing the next morning.

It was honestly the only thing keeping him from going insane. He could be creepy as he wanted with you and you wouldn't even care. Although he'd use the term "romantic" instead.

After he nearly finished his own drink, he noticed his mind becoming hazy. He was a bit of a lightweight, he'd admit, but it took more than one glass to get him feeling like this. He tried to blink the dizziness from his own eyes, and could make out your eyes on him and a smirk on your face.

"Oh no, are you okay? You don't look so good," you feigned innocence. Even through his hazy state, Elliott could hear the smug grin in your voice.

"D-Did... did you...? Are you...?" He couldn't form a coherent sentence.

"Yep," you confirmed. "You've done it to me several times now, figured I'd return the favor. It's only fair, right?"

He should have been angry or upset about this, but he wasn't. Instead, his cheeks turned bright red as he stared at you in a dumbfounded awe. He didn't know what he was feeling right now, but it definitely wasn't anger. Arousal, anticipation, delight... maybe a mixture of all three.

"To be fair," you continued, "I never was really drugged. Just pretended to be, because I wanted to see what you would do." His breath hitched when you straddled his lap, holding his tie in your hand. "Just to see how far you'd take things."

"Y-You..." He never thought he'd see the day where his words failed him. But how was he supposed to speak when you were on his lap looking so delectable? He subconsciously licked his lips as he drank in every detail of your body. The way your chest rose and fell, your breaths as heavy as his, your eyes clouded with lust. He could only imagine how much of a fool he looked right now.

"Did you really think I wouldn't notice?" Your voice was soft, sweet. "Did you think I'd never find out?"

Elliott paused for a moment before chuckling. He rested his hands on your thighs and massaged them gently. "You know me too well, darling." He placed a gentle kiss to your throat. "How did you know?"

"How did I know you were spiking my drinks?" You giggled and kissed his ear. "Because you're not subtle at all." You licked a stripe down his neck, enjoying the shivers you felt from him. "And because I want you just as much as you want me."

He placed his forehead against yours and let out a shaky sigh. "I... I'm very relieved to hear that." He didn't even bother to hide his erection pressing against you. "If I could, I'd tell you just how much I adore you. But..." He trailed off, growing more deadweight. His head fell forward against your chest as he struggled to keep his eyes open. "I love you. I love you so much."

You rolled your eyes at how dramatic he was being. "You'll be fine, love," you whispered. "And I love you, too."

Despite Elliott falling limp into your arms, he refused to loosen his grip on you the entire night. Or the morning to come.

#answered ask #yandere #stardew valley #yandere elliott #elliott sdv #sdv elliott #yandere stardew valley #sdv #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere boyfriend #yandere male #yandere x yandere #gn reader

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jeysbvck · 9 months ago

Text

even if it's a false god (we'd still worship this love)

a/n; ive been working on this for over a year, & after four rewrites, its finally here! thank you to @pedroassmanpascal for your help when i was conceiving this & working on it last year! this is my first time working in this genre, & it hasn't been beta read all the way thru, so please let me know what you think!

warnings; pov change, a butt load of angst, age gap (reader is in her thirties), violence, death/murder, near death experience, voyeurism, female masturbation, male masturbation, male!recieving, female!recieving, penetrative sex (if ive missed any feel free to let me know!!)

taglist; @likedovesinthewnd @harmshake @nightmare-viper

word count; 7.3k

summary; Joel's been pretending you don't exist for weeks now, and you have no idea why. But when you get caught up in a life or death situation, confessions are made, lines are crossed, and your relationship is changed.

Every single part of Joel's body hurt, and he was exhausted. Joel was always exhausted, but this day had been particularly hard. Everything that he - and you had gone through had been for nothing. The supplies and weapons you had been looking for had been looted already. Only a few old, rusty tins of food covered in at least a years worth of dust had been left behind. Not to mention the constant hoards of infected you had to fight through. Now, it was a fight to get back to the QZ to make another plan that could end the exact same way. Yeah, he'd had plenty of bad days, but this one would sting for a while. The hope that had been reignited had gone out again. Now he was just tired.

No matter how hard he tried though, he couldn't sleep. He was just lying on the hard floor -the fabric floor of the tent and his blanket doing nothing to help with the lumps under his back- with his eyes closed and ears alert. He knew how dangerous it could be, the horrors lurking in the woods, even when it was calm and quiet, and he hoped you had heeded his advice and were asleep with your gun.

But then he heard a whimper, and his eyes shot open as he stayed silent, his hand on his pistol. A barely heard whine, and he sighed with relief as he realised it was you. These past few weeks had been taxing - although the past twenty years hadn't exactly been a cake walk - and it dawned on him that you were probably crying. Joel had been so drained and tired during dinner that he selfishly hadn't noticed you were unusually quiet. He also didn't think about it when you retired to bed early. Joel tried to ignore the sounds, but he couldn't, he was just picturing you curled up in your tent, crying yourself to sleep, and the guilt of not noticing anything was wrong was gnawing at him. He groaned and slipped out of his tent, making his way to yours while putting the gun in the back of his jeans.

He quietly navigated the campsite and stopped outside your tent, unsure how to proceed. Did he knock on the fabric door, or did he call out your name? He wasn't good at this stuff, and he hadn't been for a long time, but he also knew that you needed someone; or, more specifically, you needed a friend. You were just that kind of person, even if the world had forced you to pretend you weren't. For a few seconds, he couldn't hear anything, but just as he was about to give up, he heard another noise, but this one sounded more like a moan. Then another one, louder now, and there was no mistaking it that time. Joel's body stiffened, and he started to get hot as his cock twitched at the thought of you getting yourself off, mere feet away from him. He heard your sleeping bag rustle slightly, and he bolted back to his tent, breathing heavily as he zipped the tent door.

He stared up at the roof of the tent, trying - but ultimately failing - not to think about what he'd just almost interrupted. His jeans were uncomfortably tight, and he had to unbutton them just for some relief. He tried to divert his thoughts, to think about anything else, but his mind took some winding paths just to get him back to thinking of you. Joel groaned. He needed a release, and it had been a long time since he'd done, well, anything. It wasn't going to hurt anyone, and you were doing it just mere feet away from him, so what was stopping him? They were all flimsy arguments. He knew that, but it was the easiest solution to the problem at hand.

Joel slipped a hand into his boxers, his cold touch sending goosebumps down his spine, the sensation making him harder. He began to stroke himself, and when he closed his eyes, he could see you writhing around in your tent, your fingers deep inside yourself. He could hear you from your tent still, your quiet whimpering and moaning sounding out through the stillness of the forest, and Joel caught his own moan in his throat as his movements got quicker. He couldn't bring himself to care about the possible dangers lurking, the grip he had his cock on tightening slightly as pictures of you clouded him. He imagined you being in here with him, imagined that you were both watching each other. It didn't take long for Joel to make himself orgasm, and he cleaned himself up, hoping sleep came to him before the guilt did.

Joel spent the next few days convinced he was going crazy. Every time you looked at him, he was sure you could see the guilt he was struggling to hide, like his memories would be projected for you to see. Every time you said his name, he was waiting for you to tell him you knew what he'd done, that you'd seen him outside your tent, and heard him in his. He felt so dirty, creepy, ashamed, and at some point, he shut down completely. He knew you were confused, you weren't as good at hiding your emotions as you thought, and you were confused by what you could've possibly done to warrant the cold shoulder from Joel, who could barely look at you, and it made him feel worse. He just didn't know what else to do, so he went back to what he knew best.

After traipsing through the woods for what felt like forever, Joel just wanted to set up camp and get through the night. He was tired, sore, hungry, and needed a moment away from you, without your sad eyes staring at him, without your attempts to get him to open up. So when you announced that you'd had enough and insisting that you stop for the night, Joel didn't argue. While Joel set up the tents, you gathered some wood from the perimeter of the "campsite", and Joel took a moment to watch on fondly, smiling to himself at the smug look of accomplishment on your face, taking the "win" against Joel.

Dinner was silent that night, as the past few had been, and while Joel refused to look up from his food, you were refusing to take your eyes off Joel. Your gaze was burning a hole in his head. He felt scrutinised as he ate, and it took everything in him not to engage. He didn't know if you were trying to annoy him into talking to you or if you were lost in your own thoughts, but he didn't ask.

Once again, straight after dinner, you headed into your tent, sending a soft "goodnight" Joel's way. He looked up but not before the sound of the zip echoed out, and he sighed, rubbing his temples.

The fire had died long ago, but Joel still hadn't found the energy to crawl into his tent. He stared up at the starry night, and just as his mind started to wander into dangerous territory -somewhere he never went if he could help it- he heard the noise that had been playing on a loop in his head for the past two days. His cock stirred and he covered his face with his hands. Not again.

He knew he had to get back to his tent and fast, but he had to do it quietly. He began to slowly move the canisters and empty tins, careful not to make any noise. He didn't want you to think he was a pervert. Although that's exactly how he felt right about now. He was about to stand up when he heard a single word from your mouth that made him stop in his tracks.

Joel.

Fuck. Oh fuck. Did you know he was there? Did you hear him? Could you see his silhouette projected on your tent, like it was a cinema screen? He ran through a hundred excuses in his head as he slowly turned to look over his shoulder, and he let out a sigh of relief when he saw no signs that you'd heard him. He scoffed at himself and shook his head. He really was going crazy.

Mmm, Joel, don't stop!

He definitely wasn't going crazy, there was no mistaking it. Not only were you masturbating, mere feet from Joel, but you were moaning his name, and he had never been so hard in his life. He couldn't stop himself, and once again, he unzipped his jeans and pulled out his cock, and while you moaned and gasped from inside the tent, Joel pleasured himself.

His precum was seeping out and over his fingers, and he bit down harshly on his lip to stop his own sounds from escaping. His motion got quicker, matching the sweet sounds coming from your tent, and when you brought yourself to orgasm and Joel's name slipped from your lips, he came undone. He emptied himself onto the dirt, too entranced by your gasps to notice the streams spilling over his fists. He dropped his head against the log behind him and groaned.

"Shit."

It happened three more times, and Joel had never been more conflicted. He was constantly stressed and on edge; the guilt from what he was doing was eating away at him. He'd always been someone that could control himself - he had to be - but when it came to this, to you, it was like something triggered inside him. He'd known you for years and had never had these thoughts or these feelings. Then again, he'd never spent this much time with you, and he'd never heard his name fall from your lips like that.

Joel couldn't deny he thought you were beautiful, and that maybe it inflated his ego a little, that you were thinking about him while you fucked yourself with your fingers, or dreaming about him, but he was under no illusions that it meant anything. You didn't have feelings for him. He was just the only person you'd seen in weeks that wasn't trying to kill you, and feelings get warped. Especially with the way the world was now. Besides, he'd seen the guys that hung around you like moths drawn to a flame. They were much younger and fitter than Joel was. Yet, he found himself as one of those moths, and he couldn't help but imagine how it would feel to be caught in your flame.

Joel was no longer waiting to hear you to get himself off. His mind would conjure up images that made it so he couldn't help himself. Images of your mouth around his cock, your hair tangled in his fingers as he fucked your face. His head buried deep in between your legs as he ravished you, his hand clamped over your mouth to muffle your moans of ecstasy. Of his cock slamming into you, his fingernails leaving little indents in your ass as he gripped firmly. The fact that he would never get the real thing didn't bother him. He was content with his fantasies. But he still felt guilty, and the tension between you and Joel was getting worse.

But things were beginning to simmer inside Joel, and his secret masturbating habits were no longer the sole reason for his behaviour. Joel would look over at you, by the fire feading the book you'd memorised front to back, and he'd let himself imagine running his hands through your hair as you sat lazily against him. When he slept, his dreams were of a life he'd never thought he'd want - or have again, and you were always by his side. He'd dream of dancing with you in the living room, waking up beside you, the sunlight making you glow like an ethereal figure. He'd dream of being happy. He'd put it down to the ridiculous situation he found himself in and told himself that once you were both back in the QZ, things would go back to normal. You would go back to people your own age, and Joel would just be a memory of a small fantasy you had while on a difficult run.

But then, as if the universe was trying to intervere, everything changed. The abandoned building you'd been hiding out in turned out not to be not so abandoned, and the two of you had gotten yourselves into a sticky situation. Hunters had cornered you, and in all the chaos and commotion, the last man standing had grabbed you, now using you as a human shield with his arm almost choking you, a knife pressed just above your collarbone while Joel had his gun aimed right at him.

"I'll take yer girls head off!" The guy yelled. Joel could see you were terrified, and it took everything in him not to let his rage consume him. He knew that one wrong move could get you killed. He needed to be smart about this.

"Look, man, we don't have much, but you can take it all. Just let her go." Joel said, trying to keep his voice even. He was terrified that he wasn't going to be able to save you, and he couldn’t live with that. It wasn't just about someone else that he cared about dying or about him failing. You understood him, and somewhere along the way, you had unknowingly brought him out of the darkness. You were his beacon of light, and if he lost that, if he lost you, he wasn't sure he'd ever find his way out of the darkness again.

"Yeah? What if I want 'er?" The hunter sneered, caressing your cheek with his knife, pressing the tip into your skin ever so slightly.

"Not an option." Joel growled.

"Seems like it is to me. I could drag 'er outta here right now. There ain't nothing you could do about it."

You felt sick. You couldn't believe you'd let yourself be distracted by Joel being tackled to the ground, and now this disgusting pig had you in a fucking headlock. You'd seen Joel take down hunters and the infected, sometimes effortlessly, so why the hell did you freeze when Joel had been pinned to the floor momentarily? Your feelings for Joel were getting more and more confusing, and you didn't like it one bit, they were going to get you or Joel killed if you carried on like this.

It's not like you wanted to be attracted to Joel, not when there wasn't a single thing you could do about it. Why would Joel ever go for you? He was twenty years your senior, old enough to be your father. There was just no chance in hell. Yet, you couldn't stop yourself from fantasising about him. It wasn't hurting anyone, and it was keeping you somewhat sane, and he'd never know.

"You won't make it out of this room." You heard Joel say in his deep, gruff voice, and it sent shivers down your spine. Your eyes squeezed shut when you felt the man breathing on your neck, the hot air making your stomach twist, bile rising up your throat as he inhaled your scent, his own vile one violating your senses. You clenched your fist and felt the cold blade of your dagger against your arm, the one you'd forgot you had up your sleeve, literally. How big of an idiot was this guy? How didn't he see you had a knife? As Joel and the hunter traded words, you quickly formulated a plan. If you could somehow manage to stab - or at least slash the guy - maybe he'd let go of you, and then Joel could get a shot in.

"Let go of me!" You shouted, struggling slightly, while slipping the knife further down your sleeve. It worked, and you smirked proudly. You raised your eyebrows at Joel before glancing down at your hand, subtly flashing the knife. You looked back at him, then darted your eyes to your captor. Joel took a second, and you knew he was weighing up his options before he nodded slightly. His eyes darted down to the guys leg, and you winked to let him know you understood the plan. The man still had a fucking knife to your throat, and you didn't want to give him any warnings or ideas.

"Don't worry." The hunter said, 'I'll look after 'er good."

Joel nodded to you, and you clenched the knife, stabbing right into the hunter's thigh. His yells of pain echoed around the room, and he released you from his grip, the knife in his hand clattering to the floor. You stumbled forward, kicking the weapon across the room, but you thankfully managed to stay on your feet. You grinned at Joel, feeling victorious, but it was a fleeting feeling.

"Fuckin' bitch!" The hunter shouted and you turned around, but not quick enough. The knife was sticking out of his thigh, but it didn't seem like he felt it, he was too overcome with rage, and the back of your head slammed against the wall as the hunter pinned you by the throat. You gasped for air, the guys hands squeezing the life out of you, spit flying as he screamed in your face.

"I'll fuckin' kill you, you goddamned bitch!"

You tried to pry the man's hands from around your neck, but it was no use. He was too strong, and your vision was fading rapidly. You were barely able to gasp Joel's name, and you were quickly losing consciousness. All you could do was stand there and let the darkness consume you as you thought about Joel. The way he'd try to hide his smile when you did something wrong, or when you said something silly. The way he laughed, how it was the rich sound you rarely got to hear. How he protected you, even though he clearly didn't want to be around you. How you were going to die, not knowing what you did to make him ignore you the past couple of weeks. Not knowing why he had this sudden disdain for you.

But then, the pressure around your neck suddenly disappeared, and you fell to the floor, gasping for air as you clutched your throat, your eyes wide and darting around wildly, searching for Joel.

He appeared on his knees in front of you and grabbed your face, his panicked, brown eyes staring deep down into your soul.. "Hey! Hey! Are you alright? Come on baby, just breathe for me."

His large hands were warm on your cheeks, the hunter's blood that stained them smearing across your skin as he caressed your cheek, but still, you leaned into his touch. He had never been this gentle before; in fact, he'd never really touched you unless being dragged by your wrist as you ran from infected counts. "I'm okay," you managed to say, and Joel sighed with relief.

"We need to move. Can you stand?" Joel asked, and you nodded, eyes closed as you took a few extra slow, deep breaths. "Okay. Take my hand."

You opened your eyes to Joel's outstretched hand and you took it, letting him haul you gently to your feet. He hooked his arm under yours to help you walk, and as you concentrated on walking with shaky legs, Joel guided you to the door. "Wait here." He said, disappearing out the front door to check for any danger.

As he did so, you turned to inspect the chaos you were leaving behind. Your stomach lurched as you saw the blood pooling around the dead man with a clean, almost surgical, maroon slice straight across his neck, and you wondered just how many times Joel had had to do it, to get such a clean cut. Your eyes snapped back to the door, where Joel was staring at you, his eyes wide and sad, like a puppy, before they hardened. "Let's go." Joel said. "We'll find a house to hide out in."

The universe had decided you could both use a break, and less than two hours after the attack, deep inside the seemingly never-ending woods, the two of you came across an unlocked cabin, the keys just sat on the side table. Joel put his finger up to his lips, and you nodded, following his lead as he crept through the front door. He pointed at you, then at the spot you were standing, and you nodded, doing as you were told while Joel checked it out. Neither of you wanted to take any more chances after today.

"Hey, you might wanna come check this out!" Joel's voice echoed through the cabin, and you closed the front door before heading towards the sound of his voice.

The cabin was rustic and run down, and looked to have been abandoned for a decade at least. It had been a hunter's cabin, judging by the animal heads mounted up on the walls, staring down at you with their black, beady eyes that seemed to follow you everywhere. The fireplace was brick, an axe resting against it with piles of wood stacked in front. You turned around and found Joel in the kitchen, staring down at the sink. As you got closer, you heard the familiar sound of a running tap, and you smiled. You'd take any kind of water right now, anything to get rid of this day.

But then you saw it, dancing through the air, rising from the tap. You were convinced you'd imagined it until you saw Joel's fingers rolling together under the water, a look of shock on his face.

"Is that what I think it is?" You asked as you got closer, and Joel nodded. You gingerly held your fingers out, anticipating cold water, not wanting to get your hopes up. But when your fingers hit the warm water, you let out a bewildered laugh, cupping both hands under the water, letting it spill over as it slowly but surely got hotter. "I can't believe it!"

"Yeah, well, we deserved a win eventually." Joel replied. You made eye contact, and the corner of his mouth curled upwards slightly, his eyes darting down to your neck before he took a sharp breath and turned away. "You should go have a shower."

"What about you?" You asked, and he sighed.

"Just go. I'll wash up here."

After stripping off your clothes, you looked at your reflection. Only then did you notice the bruising around your neck, and the blood smeared across your cheeks. You could still feel the way the hunter's hands squeezed so tight that you could feel the life draining from your body. You could still feel the panic and terror you felt and the relief when Joel forced the hunter to let go. The look in Joel's eyes when he held your face, the gentle touch as he caressed your cheeks and brushed your hair out of your face. You thought you'd made your peace with dying long ago, but that was until you almost met death, and it made you realise you didn't want to leave Joel. If Joel was in your life, maybe living was worth it.

You were so lost in thought, staring at your scarred body in the mirror, you didn't hear Joel knock on the door. It was only when the door burst open with Joel shouting your name that you turned around, surprised.

Joel kept his eyes on yours, refusing to let himself cave and look down; although it's all he wanted to do. You knew you should grab the towel, or the shower curtain, anything to cover yourself, but you were frozen, like Joel's gaze was keeping you locked on the spot.

Joel cleared his throat and shoved a bundle of clothes into your arms. “Sorry, I-uh, I thought maybe you were- it doesn't matter. I found those, thought you'd want some clean clothes.”

He left, slamming the door behind him, and you exhaled. You ignored the thoughts creeping in and the heat rising up your body and climbed into the bathtub under the running shower; watching the dirt and blood trickle off your body and down the plughole. Once the water ran clean, you stepped out, patting yourself down with the small towel. You then filled up the bathtub with hot water and then threw your underwear and clothes into it. It wouldn't fully clean them, but it'd be enough for now. You picked up the oversized flannel and pulled it over your shoulders, forgoing the jeans that were way too big for you, even with the help of a belt. You sighed and headed back out to Joel.

The fire was burning, the crackling wood echoing through the cabin. Joel was sitting at the wooden table in front of the window, sipping on a glass of wine. There were two plates of pasta on the table, a glass of wine next to one of them. You padded across the room and dropped into the seat opposite Joel, studying his face as he stared out the window. The sky was pink and orange as it set through the trees, the view almost as beautiful as the one sitting next to you; the light of the sunset cascading over Joel. He turned his head to you, and you glanced down at the food. Joel cleared his throat.

"I found some pasta and wine in the cupboards. It only went out of date a few weeks ago." He explained. "It should be okay for us to eat."

"I'm sure it's fine." You replied, "anything's better than beans again, right?" You leaned forward and took the glass of wine, taking a long sip, basking in the way it burned your throat slightly. It had been so long since you'd had even a sip of alcohol, you could swear your head was already fuzzy.

Like most dinners lately, this one was silent. But this was slightly different, considering you were probably the safest you'd been in a long time, and you were eating actual food off actual plates. If you and Joel were in a better place, it would be almost considered domestic. You might even consider staying here, leaving the QZ far behind. But you weren't, Joel could barely bring himself to talk to you — he couldn't even look at you. You really thought you were turning a corner with him until his behaviour changed one morning without warning.

"We should stay here for a couple of days, then head back to the QZ." Joel said. You sighed and finished your glass of wine, but it wasn't enough.

"Great." You replied, looking around for the bottle of wine. "Then you can go back to pretending I don't exist." You weren't sure where the outburst had come from, but you were pretty sure it had something to do with the alcohol running through your blood.

"Pretending you don't- what? I don't do that!" Joel insisted.

You scoffed. "Oh please, you're not as mysterious as you like to think." You said, although there was little truth to it. "You didn't even know my name in the QZ, yet we were around each other for months! I thought we were getting somewhere, but lately, you've been acting like we're strangers!" You told him.

"What?! Okay, maybe I was a little isolated in the QZ, but it's not like that now!" Joel replied, his fork clattering on the plate when it dropped from his hand. "All I do is worry about your survival!"

"Riiiiight, because you care so much." You said, rolling your eyes.

"It's my job to pro-"

"Your job?" You repeated, offended by his words, although you couldn't place why. "Well, allow me to relieve you of your duty." The chair screeched across the floor as you stood up and grabbed your unfinished plate and glass.

Joel inhaled through his nose and groaned. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"Well, I mean it. Leave. I didn't need a babysitter before, and I don't need one now!" You said loudly, heading to the kitchen for a reprieve.

Joel growled and slammed his palms on the table as he stood up, refusing your reprieve, following you to the kitchen. "I'm not leaving you to die out here. Which, you would've already if it wasn't for me. You've proven that multiple times!"

"Maybe," you replied, dropping the plate in the sink, staring at Joel, whose eyes darted away. "But I'd rather die alone than with someone who can't even stand to look at me!"

"I can't look at you because you drive me fucking crazy!" Joel exclaimed, his patience finally having worn thin. "Ever since I heard you moaning in that fucking-" He stopped, his eyes wide and on you as he realised what he said; watching his words dawn on you as your face cracked.

Nausea, or quite possibly embarrassment — rose from your stomach up through your oesophagus, and you drank from the glass of wine that was in front of you — which wasn't quite the best course of action as it didn't sit well on your spinning stomach. Joel had heard you masturbating. That's what he was saying, right? There wasn't anything else he could possibly be referencing. But why would it drive him crazy? Joel could be uptight sometimes, but it didn't seem to be in a "women shouldn't pleasure themselves" way.

You blinked a few times, and Joel's face came into focus. He had closed the gap between you both, now only a few feet away. He looked awkward as he shifted on his feet, rubbing the back of his neck, looking uncomfortable.

"You heard me mast -" You stopped, unable to say the word out loud, and you sighed, feeling ridiculous. "You haven't been talking to me for weeks because you heard me -"

Something clicked in your head, like a light had just been switched on. You hadn't just gotten yourself off once. And at some point, you began to fantasise it was Joel's fingers, or mouth, even his cock instead of your own hand. You were aware a couple of times his name had slipped from your lips, and you'd clasped your hand around your mouth afterwards, praying he hadn't heard you.

It was beginning to seem very likely he had heard you, and something in you shifted from embarrassment to…something else, and you arched your eyebrow, finishing off the glass of wine for some extra courage.

"You heard me say your name.” You said, arching your eyebrow. Joel stared before he nodded slowly.

“I heard.” He confirmed, refusing to break eye contact. The air in the kitchen had shifted; it was thick with tension, and Joel wondered where this was going.

You hummed and tilted your head. “What did you do?” You asked, smirking when it was clear it caught Joel off guard.

"What?”

“What did you do, Joel?” You asked, leaning back against the counter. Joel's eyes darted to your bare legs before slowly dragging them up your body, stopping at the three open buttons that exposed your cleavage.

“I thought I heard you crying, so I came to check on you.” He explained. “When I got to your tent, I realised you weren't, and I went back to my tent.” His eyes darted to your face before he closed the gap between you until he was practically on top of you. “I tried to ignore you, but I couldn't help myself.” He lifted your chin with his index and middle fingers, so you were staring at him through your lashes. Your lips parted slightly as your chest rose and fell, your heart pounding against your rib cage. “I kept hearing your moans and thinking about you in that tent, and it got me so - I had to -”

His eyes were dark, full of lust, and you instinctively licked your lips slightly. "You- couldn't help yourself, huh?" You asked. Joel arched his eyebrow and tentatively reached his hand up to your cheek. He traced his finger over your cheek gently, and you closed your eyes as you inhaled. "Hearing you moan my name," He said, running a path down your jaw to your neck, "it sounded too good."

You reached up, closing the gap between your lips. Without hesitation, Joel reciprocated the kiss, his hand still around your neck as the other slipped around your hips, resting on the bottom of your back, pulling you closer to him. His bulge pressed into your crotch and you could feel it getting harder as the kiss deepened. You tugged his brown, leather jacket from his shoulders while Joel started an assault on your neck. If this lasted forever, it still wouldn't be long enough.

"Is this a good idea?" You asked through the gasps as he nipped and sucked at your neck.

"Mhmm, giving me some mixed signals here." he mumbled against your skin before pulling away, his mouth inches from yours. "I think it's a fucking great idea. Don't you?"

“I'm not sure.” You confessed. Joel cupped your cheek with his hand and stroked your cheek with his thumb, his eyes soft, even if still full of lust. Was this a good idea? He'd spent weeks ignoring you, and it felt like Hell — but the way he kissed you, the way he touched you; it felt like Heaven.

"I don't care if it's a good idea or not." You replied, and Joel grinned.

"Good," he replied, "Because you have no idea how much I need you right now."

"Then show me." You said, and Joel growled before he pressed his lips against yours and instigated another passionate kiss, illicting a moan from you. He picked you up and dropped you onto the counter, spreading your legs so he could step in between them.

The kiss was messy, teeth and tongues clashing together as both sets of hands roamed each other's bodies. Joel's hands cupped and massaged your breasts as yours unbuttoned his jeans, using your heels to push them down his legs. One hand trailed a path from your breast to your stomach, dancing around the place you needed him the most.

"No panties, huh?" He said into your mouth, his finger tracing a path up your slit so gently, it was like he was using a feather. "I never would've known you were such a slut." His finger grazed your clit, and he grinned as you bucked your hips.

"Maybe if you'd acknowledged my existence, you might have found out earlier." You replied, grabbing his bulge through the fabric and squeezed, tight. Joel gasped into your mouth as he thrusted into your hand, and it was your turn to smirk against his mouth. If he could tease you, you could do the same, you thought as you slipped your hand into his boxers, relishing the feeling of his cock in your grasp.

Joel growled, his hips bucking before he shoved two fingers inside you without warning. A yelp mixed with a moan slipped from your mouth as you threw your head back, and Joel groaned. He kept his pace up, pushing his fingers in and out of you, feeling your walls clench around them as he watched your face contort with pleasure, your moans echoing throughout the kitchen. Not even his fantasies could have prepared him for how incredible this felt. If using just his fingers made him — made you feel this good, he couldn't wait to use his cock.

But he would wait. For weeks, you had — albeit unknowingly, driven him to the brink of insanity. Clouded his mind so he couldn't focus on anything; which is why he didn't notice the threat today, which almost cost you your life. So now, he had to drive you insane in the only way he could.

He dropped to his knees and pulled you by your legs so you were hanging off the counter. He then hoisted your legs over his shoulders, and you watched Joel as he studied your cunt — the look in his eyes resembled one of a wild animal, one that was finally allowed out of its cage, to roam free as its right. Yet, he was biting his lip; almost like he was holding onto that last tiny bit of control he had left. But you wanted — no, you needed the wild animal, and so you tangled your fingers into his hair. He looked up at you, locking eyes as he let you guide his head to where you needed him to be.

Shivers ran down your spine as his beard tickled you as he dragged his tongue over the skin on the inside of your thighs. Once again, he touched every piece of you, but not where you needed.

“Joel,” you whined, the grip on his hair getting tighter as you bucked your hips, "Please." You begged.

“Oh baby, you're already so wet.” he tutted, his finger running through your folds and teasing your entrance before he lifted it to your mouth and pushed it between your lips. “Your pretty pussy is glistening for me.”

You tasted a hint of your juices as you wrapped your tongue around his finger, keeping your gaze on him as you did. He groaned, imagining how good your mouth would feel wrapped around his cock. He pulled his finger out, and you gasped when he pushed it inside you. When he flicked your clit with the tip of his tongue, you gasped and arched your back. “Oh shit, fuck, Joel.”

Every sense was heightened as Joel flattened his tongue and lapped at you. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he swirled his tongue around your clit. You pushed yourself against him, practically hanging off the counter, making Joel grab your ass with both hands as he buried his face into you. With his beard grazing against you and his tongue pushing you further to release, your thighs gripped his head. Every single part of you was on fire as his assault on your cunt continued, and you could feel your orgasm brewing.

So could Joel, which was apparent as his pace got quicker, bringing in his fingers to help finish the job. With his thumb circling your clit and his tongue deep inside you, you reached your climax, Joel's name spilling from your mouth. As you threw your head back, grinding yourself against his face; you saw stars, all while Joel kept up the relenting pace.

He finally pulled away and stood up, grinning as he leaned towards you. His beard was glistening, and when he kissed you, you could taste yourself on him, mixing with the wine you had with dinner. Joel hooked his arms under your legs and scooped you off the counter; carrying you fireman style out the kitchen, through the sitting room and into the bedroom, where he dropped you on the bed. He crawled on top of you and dipped his head to kiss you. It was a soft, sweet kiss, one that you didn't want to end, so when it did, you whimpered, and Joel smiled softly.

“You still wanna do this?” He whispered. “We can stop if you want to.”

You leaned up on your elbows and gave him your answer with a kiss. He pressed his palm on your cheek and deepened the kiss, pushing you back down as he did. The two of you made out like two teenagers, and you could feel Joel's cock hardening against you. You slipped your hand in between your bodies and gripped his cock, rubbing the head against your entrance. Joel groaned, his head falling into your shoulder. He bit down as you pushed his cock inside yourself, your moans harmonising, the sensation almost too much.

Joel took over, grabbed your hands, and pinned them above your head. The animalistic look was in his eyes again, grunting with every thrust, his grip against your wrists tightening. You closed your eyes, and Joel growled.

“You thought about this while fucking yourself.” He said, his voice low. “Open your eyes and look at me while I fuck you.”

You opened your eyes and were met by Joel's big, brown ones that were now practically black. He fucked you harder, thrusting in and out as his thumb once again circled your clit. There was a ninety-eight percent chance that someone on the other side of the forest could hear everything, but at this moment neither of you cared. After weeks of awkwardness, of fantasising about each other while you touched yourselves, this felt right, like something had finally clicked into place — and you'd be damned if this was the first and only time it happened. Now you'd had a taste, you couldn't ever go back.

Joel picked up the pace, and you could once again feel your orgasm rising. You pulled Joel closer, your foreheads touching, your vision falling out of focus as you stared into Joel's eyes, but you refused to look away.

“Fuck, Joel, I'm so close” You whimpered, bucking your hips to meet his thrust, his cock hitting deeper each time you moved.

“If you keep doing that, I'm gonna -” Joel grunted, your synced thrusts getting faster. “Fuck, baby.” Joel moaned. “I'm gonna, shit -”

“Let go for me, Joel.” You whispered in his ear. “Come for me, and next time, I'll show you what I can do with my mouth.”

It only took a couple more thrusts before you and Joel finished together, and he slumped on top of you, breathing heavily. You lifted his head up, brushed his hair out his face, and smiled up at him, hearts practically in your eyes.

“So…” you said, and he reciprocated the smile. “Sooo…” He repeated.

“Are you going to be all weird with me again?” You teased, and Joel arched his eyebrow, a smirk dancing on his lips.

“I don't think so,” Joel replied, dipping his head for another kiss. “Especially if I want this to happen again.”

“Oh yeah? What makes you think we're doing this again?” You asked, and Joel grinned.

“Oh we're definitely doing that again.” Joel answered, and you giggled as he rolled off you and reached a blanket that was on a chair next to the bed. He flung it over the two of you before pulling you into his chest and pressing his lips against your temple. “I wanna know what you can do with that mouth.” He mumbled.

You giggled again, your heart fluttering as he linked his fingers around yours and kissed your knuckles. “Keep this up, and you'll find out.” You replied before a yawn slipped out.

“Alright you little tease, I think I can hold out until tomorrow.” Joel chuckled. “Right now, I think you need to sleep.”

You snuggled into Joel's chest, his fingers running through your hair. You never thought you'd be in this position, in bed with Joel Miller. You knew there was a lot more to talk about, but right now, you didn't care. You just focused on Joel's heartbeat under your head, on his fingers in your hair. Focused on how — even though there were still many dangers to staying in this cabin, it was still the safest you'd been in a long time.

The last thing you heard as you drifted into a peaceful sleep was a quiet confession from Joel; one you weren't sure you were actually meant to hear. “I'll always keep you safe. Even if it means giving my life.”

#joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #the last of us fic #tlou fic #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal #smut writing #my writing*

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imagine-darksiders · 1 month ago

Text

Absolute Anarchy

A Darksiders/SCP Foundation crossover nobody asked for but is here regardless.

Summary: SCP-8103. Object class; undetermined. There's a new entity at the Foundation. Four D-Class have already been supplied with weapons and pitted against it, only to be cut down before they could get more than a couple of shots in. Eager to determine which calibre of rifle can pierce its armour, they send you in next - D-1935 - to accomplish what your predecessors couldn't. It's too bad they never taught you how to actually use the rifle...

This has the vague semblance of a plot btw, but I'm trying not to be too finicky, and just to write as it comes to me, so hopefully it'll still be easy enough to follow and enjoyable at the same time.

Tw: Blood, guns, death, imprisonment, threat, violence, trapped, typical SCP violence.

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If there was ever a moment where you should have felt the stars aligning to determine the path your life might take, it would have to be the moment you decided to steal that godforsaken sports car.

It was an instance born of desperation – a tantalising lure cast by the owner of a chop-shop who made heartfelt promises to lift you out of poverty, only to throw you under the proverbial bus when the heat ventured too close to his illicit operation.

He only wanted the money from that Ferrari.

You reduced yourself to grand theft auto for a chance to escape the homeless shelter and land on your feet.

And where did you land instead?

Behind bars, that’s where. Tossed into some dingy prison that seemed only built for the sole purpose of hiding away society’s miserable, forgotten dregs.

You thought you knew what rock bottom looked like.

How were you to know the depths this pitiless world could drag you down to?

“D – One-nine-three-five!”

A strident voice bellows a set of all-too familiar numbers at what must be the top of his already bursting lungs. The door to your cell is wrenched violently open, spilling light into a room that’s a damn sight smaller and bleaker than the one they pulled you from in St Ives.

Bureaucracy had been your ultimate enemy, in the end. A signature in the wrong place, a ‘t’ dotted where it should have been crossed, and an ‘i’ absent from your paperwork had all lead you to a place you couldn’t have imagined in your most turbulent nightmares. A place that shouldn’t - and so far as the public is aware - doesn’t exist.

The SCP Foundation.

Specifically, site 12; a rancorous offshoot of what you’ve come to learn through eavesdropping and rumour, is a worldwide operation.

It turns out the people in charge here couldn’t less of give a hoot whether you’re a petty thief or a renowned and unrepentant serial killer. If your name is on their list, they won’t bother to see a difference. You’re all Disposables, in the end, and no amount of pleas for your innocence or requests for an evaluation will get you any closer to that glorious taste of freedom.

You’ll serve your time or die trying. And as of yet, you haven’t heard of anyone who’s reached the end of their ‘sentence.’

The bed springs underneath you shriek with relief as you scramble up onto your feet, nearly tripping over the long hems of your jumpsuit.

Heart thundering like a jackhammer, you cower before the imposing shape silhouetted in your doorway, warily eyeing the M9 Beretta that’s being aimed directly at your forehead.

You’d hoped that by now the guards here would have learned that you’re not a threat. Hell, it didn’t take you long to figure out that anybody even vaguely considered a troublemaker in this place will earn themselves a one-way ticket to a fate that would make you beg for a bullet between the eyes.

That first week, you ended up trying to plead your case to the wrong scientist and wound up on the bi-weekly rota to clean SCP-173’s cell. Twice.

How you got out of there with your neck facing the right way is one of life’s greatest mysteries. If it hadn’t gone for your poor cellmate first…

“You listening, Scuzz!?” The handgun jerks to the left of your doorway. “Get your ass outta that cell!”

Ah... Mullins. One of the guards assigned to your particular block.

A meaner son of a bitch, you’ve never known. Rumour has it that the towering brute used to be a D-Class, like you, but through shows of force, an unflinching disregard for his fellow man, and an uncanny ability to survive, the Lab Coats bumped him up to guard status, if for no other reason than to keep the inmates in line.

You’re loathe to admit it, but he is damn good at his job.

Ducking your head, you scurry from your bed through the open door, pressing yourself as close to the frame as possible to squeeze past the Beretta that he keeps trained on your head. You don’t even have to look at him anymore to know that there’s a wide smirk on his face when he jabs the barrel at the back of your skull, shoving you into an awkward stumble down the hallway.

“Move. Got a new assignment for you today,” he goads, falling into step behind you, his thick, rubber boots thudding purposefully on the linoleum.

In contrast, your plimsoles make rather pathetic ‘slaps’ with each, hurried step you take.

You know the drill by now. Head down. Eyes front. Mouth shut.

You’ve walked this path to the lifts a hundred times before.

It's been weeks since you stopped asking him when you can go home.

‘When you’ve served your sentence,’ became ‘When we damn well feel like it,’ became ‘You still think you’re getting out of here?’

“SCP-Eight-One-Oh-Three~,” Mullins sing-songs at your back, entirely too cheerful all of a sudden, “This one just came in. The Lab coats don’t know nothin’ about it. And guess who’s the lucky little D-Scuzz who gets to ‘further the advancement of science?”

Although your body trembles like a leaf in a hurricane, you don’t make a sound, not even when the moisture in your eyes wells up into a fat, salty teardrop and breaks over the dam of your lash line, carving a damp path down your grubby cheek.

An unknown SCP?

Your odds of making it to the end of the day in one piece have just plummeted into the single digits, and you once again find yourself asking, 'why me?'

‘We’re doing this for the good of humanity,’ one doctor with a particularly punchable face had once announced to a room full of orange-clad prisoners, and you can still remember wondering when you and your fellow inmates stopped being a part of that same Humanity this Foundation seems to keen to protect.

The cold steel of a gun jabs you again in the base of your neck, pushing a quiet sound of protest from your lips that you hurriedly clamp down on, fists balling up at your sides.

“That’s right!” Mullins continues, “Damn, you gotta be feelin’ proud as a peacock, kid. Not every day someone gets to be the first to make contact. Hell, maybe you’ll get lucky, and it’ll be a Euclid.”

The row of lifts appears as you turn the next corner and come to a stop obediently in front of the closest one, head still hanging nearly to your chest as you wait for Mullins to reach past you and jam his thumb on the ‘down’ button.

“Wouldn’t bet on it though… That thing has Keter written all over it.”

With the damning chime of a bell, the heavy, metal doors slide open, and Mullins shoves you roughly into the claustrophobic space with one fist to your spine. Jesus, trapped in this finite space with him, the smell of cheap brand cigarettes wafts from his jacket and drifts up into your nose, sitting stale and musty on the back of your tongue.

The walls are dull in here, unreflective, which you nearly count as a blessing.

It means you don’t have to see the mess you’ve become.

----

It’s only when you’re standing outside the containment cell that you realise Mullins was either lying, or just plain wrong.

You aren’t the first D-Class to make contact with this SCP.

In fact, if the stiff-faced scientist shoving a rifle into your hands is to be believed, you’re precisely the fifth.

“That,” he begins with an aloof air of bored professionalism, watching impassively while you fumble to find purchase on the heavy gun, “Is the CZ-Five-Fifty. And today, you will be testing its armour-piercing capabilities.”

‘Armour?’ you think, swallowing thickly, ‘What the Hell kind of monster have they brought into this place?’

The cold circle of steel still pressed to your shoulder blade reminds you of Mullins’s unpleasant presence.

“No funny business,” he growls, “You couldn’t get the safety off before I put you down like a lame bitch.”

Charming.

You don’t fancy telling him you couldn’t get the safety off anyway. And that it... hadn't occurred to you to even try and turn it on him and the scientist, though it probably should have been the first thing you thought of.

The weapon sits like a dead weight in your hands, heavy and fundamentally useless. You don’t know how to fire a gun, let alone one this powerful.

But the scientist doesn’t seem to know that, lazily racking off the terms of your contract and your ‘obligation’ to the Foundation.

Yes, you imagine it would get tiresome having to rehash the same speech five times in a row… Perhaps he just assumes you know how to use it?

Bastard.

Wetting your lips, you peel them apart and croak out a question, wincing at the pathetic crack in your voice, dry and reedy from disuse. “What happened to the others?”

At that, the scientist’s lips purse, and an eyelid twitches then settles.

They all hate being interrupted. Especially by a D-Class.

At least the guards acknowledge your autonomy through rage and demeaning names and acts of violence.

To the Lab Coats, you’re just cannon-fodder. Nothing. Empty vessels for them to use as they see fit.

Even so, the one in front of you straightens up and peers down the length of his nose at you, sighing as though he were trying to explain the concept of algebra to a dog. “The D-Class personnel-“ he begins, and you have to bite your tongue to hold in a scoff. ‘Personnel’ is a funny way of pronouncing ‘Prisoners.’

“-who came before, all failed their assignments.”

Behind you, Mullins pipes up with a distinguishable sneer. “Emptied their whole clips into the thing before they got turned into Swiss cheese.”

Oh… God.

“Didn’t even make a dent,” he concludes, sounding not in the least bit sad to have wasted four lives.

“Yes, well-“ the scientist clears his throat, “The first step to knowing your enemy is knowing how to kill it. And the supplied Rugers proved… ahem… inefficient. But at least we now know the three-five-seven calibre isn’t strong enough. We’re hoping the point six hundred will be.”

“Six hundred Overkill…” Mullins whistles appreciatively. “Elephant killers.”

Your stomach twists into a tight, clenching ball. You think you might be sick if there was anything to bring up except bile.

So, this is the SCP that finally kills you.

Shit.

In a whirlwind of sudden, dizzying movements and barked orders, you’re unceremoniously surrounded by three more guards who bodily ‘escort’ you into the loading dock – an empty room set in the midway of two descending doors that are made from several feet of a solid titanium alloy. The primary door slides open with a mechanical hiss, and you’re shoved roughly into the space between it and the secondary door.

On trembling knees, you gape up at the grey metal, noting with no small degree of alarm that it’s tall and wide enough to admit the shipping container of something titanic.

Above your head on the wall, an orange light pulses as the primary door slams shut behind you, and the sound of enormous locks sliding into place fills the room. Your rifle almost slips from your grasp, leaving you to fumble for it with sweat-slicked palms.

The drawback of not being a hardened death-row inmate is that when it comes to moments of great danger, you’re inclined to neither fight nor flee.

Instead, worst of all, you’re the type to freeze solid.

Now is no exception.

As the light flashing above you turns green, signalling for the second door to ascend into its slot high in the ceiling, your spine promptly goes rigid, fingers locking up around the gun whilst your feet turn to two blocks of cement.

All of a sudden, you can’t help but let out a shriek when something flops down onto the ground on your side of the door once it’s been raised a couple of feet, and at first, you assume something is trying to crawl through the space to get at you.

Once you realise what the dark object actually is, you almost wish your initial assumption had been correct.

What lays on the ground, spread across the threshold between the dock and the cell, is a body. ‘A human body!’ your addled brain registers.

Or what’s left of a human…

Swiss cheese might not have been an exaggeration after all.

Entry and exit holes have torn the poor bastard apart from head to toe, shredding to ribbons what remains of a grubby, orange jumpsuit, much like the one you’re currently garbed in. Bones and muscle and sinew show through torn flaps of skin, and the stench of blood mingles with gun smoke, seeping into your nostrils before you can scrunch your nose up to block it out. You could have done without the acrid taste of iron resting on the back of your tongue.

‘That’s gonna happen to me,’ you gasp silently, choking on a sob, unable to tear your gaze from the body, ‘Oh god, that’ll be me in a minute!’

Jesus Christ, they hadn’t even waited for the blood to dry, the assholes!

With a ‘click’ and a ‘thud,’ the door slides gracefully to a halt, utterly and completely open, exposing you to whatever entity lays in wait beyond the threshold. The fear of what lies ahead outweighs your horror of seeing a fellow D-Class on the ground. In an instant, you wrench your eyes away from the body and gape out into the room in front of you.

Sturdy, grey walls lit by an overhead fluorescent light are a familiar view, as are the bloodstains spattered across the stone slabs.

The pockmarks littering the adjacent wall are new however, each about the size of your fist. There are hundreds of them, like someone took a gatling gun and sprayed it all over the cell. They look… far too large to have been made by any ordinary rifle…

A hard blink sends twin tracks of tears leaking down your face. The room beyond angles sharply to the left right outside the door, and it plucks at your frayed nerves to realise you can’t see what’s around the corner…

Nearby, facedown on the floor just several feet from the entrance, is the second body, a gun laying close to their side and an arm outstretched towards you, their final act in the throes of death. They must have skidded around the corner and were making for the door when they were cut down…

Despite the carnage, the cell is eerily silent, not a breath nor a shift to give away where the SCP might be.

Is it lurking just around the bend to ambush you?

Is it seconds away from tearing into the pocket of space and doing to you whatever it did to these sorry sods?

Aside from quivering fit to bust, you can’t move a muscle.

You won’t.

You won’t go in there, they can’t –!

“D-Class!”

A sharp staccato shout is thrown from a speaker in the corner of the dock, causing you to nearly leap out of your skin. But worse than your visceral flinch is the sound the voice elicits from something inside the cell.

It’s like a roll of thunder, soft then loud then soft again, a guttural growl, so rich and deep it shakes the walls and travels up through your plimsoles, undulating across each section of your spine until you can feel it hum behind your eyes.

The reverb hasn’t even faded before the same voice barks, “Proceed into the containment chamber at once.”

“To Hell with that!” you retort, feet still rooted firmly to the ground.

“You will proceed or you will be reassigned.”

It’s a threat that’s worked before.

And Hell… It works again now.

Reassignment is an absolute. A guaranteed death sentence. At least in here, even with an unknown entity, there’s a slim, albeit nearly imperceptible change of survival or at the very least, a quick death. Besides, the previous victims look well and truly dead, and that’s frankly a fate that’s a Hell of a lot better than becoming a living hive for a colony of insects or a tumour-riddled larder for giant, cave-dwelling rodents.

“D-Class. You have precisely three seconds to-“

The inescapable terror of a worse ending is your greatest motivator down here. You don’t even wait for the countdown to start.

Heaving in a wet breath, you squeeze your eyes halfway shut and yank one leg stiffly into the air, planting it forwards, once, twice, three times until you pass the body on the threshold and step out into the cell. Into the open. Like a doe entering a meadow when she damn well knows there are hunters lurking in the trees nearby.

Your eyes are still clenched almost shut when you turn yourself to the left and spot the remaining pair of bodies, one almost laying on top of the other, weapons still locked in their cold, dead hands,

Another, blood-curdling growl blasts through the air around you, sudden and violent enough to nearly send you toppling over onto your backside.

Flinging your eyes open with a gasp, you immediately wish you’d kept them closed instead. You wish the SCP had just killed you outright.

You wish you never stole that wretched car.

You were expecting big.

This SCP is bigger.

You can see why the scientists want to find a calibre that can pierce armour.

The creature that hunches before you, eating up ample space between the floor and the ceiling dozens of feet overhead, is almost solid metal from top to bottom. And armoured, you realise in horror, covering flashes of grey, scaly skin the colour of iron.

Bipedal, is the second thing you note, towering all the way to the roof on a pair of long, lithe legs, each ending in a three-toed foot with claws that remind you of some long extinct theropod.

A scrawny waist feeds into a contrarily powerful chest and monumental shoulders that are made even larger by the armoured struts encasing them.

Your eyes, wider than saucers, travel along the length of its arms – the first hanging down to its bent knee with a hand that looks large enough to wrap around your whole body and crush you between its fingers. The other arm, however, doesn’t end in a hand – clawed or otherwise.

It ends instead, from the elbow down, in a four barrelled gun the size of cannon.

And all four of those chambers are aimed directly and unwaveringly at you.

Behind the sights, several cylinders spin over one another like a minigun ramping up to fire, clanking angrily in an obvious threat.

You don’t dare pull in a breath, not when your gaze locks onto one of the chambers of the gun arm, and from somewhere deep in the pits of those long barrels, a dim, red glow sparks to life, the same light you imagine the fires of Hell would kick out if Satan ever eventually sets foot in this horrible place.

And that’s without even mentioning its other apparent weapon.

You think it must be some kind of tail, arched up and over the SCP’s head like the tail of a scorpion, swaying very gently from left to right and back again. Whip-like, it tapers to a point, and from what you can see from down here, the grey of its scales beneath the armour fades into an angry red right near the tip, glowing the same colour as the lights in the barrels of its gatling arm.

Vivid images of your body being impaled on the end of that wicked appendage flicker through your mind’s eye, and you have to drop your gaze to banish them, moving on to take in the rest of the monstrosity.

A pair of metal horns sweep forwards from the sides of an avian helm, long and sleek and ending in deadly points perfect for goring, like the tusks of an elephant. There’s a mane sprouting from its back too, a vibrant purple that stands out fiercely against the silver of its armour. Each strand of hair seems to wave and snake about through the air as if they’re alive.

And then you make the mistake of meeting its gaze.

You’ve seen SCP’s with no eyes, some with too many eyes, a few that are made up entirely of eyes and even those that have eyes in places where eyes have no business being.

These though… you don’t like these eyes at all, even despite the fact there are a regular number of them.

Gold as gleaming bullion, unnaturally bright and forward-facing, all nature’s warning signs that you’re staring up into the eyes of a predator.

Once they’ve locked you in their sights, it’s nigh on impossible to tear yourself free.

The snarling visage opens up like a steel trap, baring black fangs the size of axe heads, and a burning heat behind its jaws that rises like-

“D – One-nine-three-five!”

“Shit!” You don’t mean to yelp aloud, nor do you intend to nearly drop the gun, scrambling to secure your grip on it before it can fall from your hands. In the blink of an eye, the entity’s gigantic head swings around to hiss furiously at something you’d missed completely when you stumbled into its cell.

An observation window dominates the far wall, and behind it, several figures donned in white coats stand watching, their faces only slightly blurred behind the thick – presumably bullet-proof – glass.

Just above the window on this side of the cell, another speaker has been fitted into the wall, and from it, the same nasally voice as before barks a command.

“You are to proceed with testing the Overkill’s capabilities.”

… Are they serious?

The SCP’s tail has swung around to follow its head and aims warningly at the glass, though its weaponised arm stays fixed on you.

Your own weapon remains useless, hanging from your grasp, pointed at the ground. You can’t muster the courage to raise it.

What defence could it possibly provide? What could such a tiny rifle do, really, against a weapon that made holes that size in the concrete walls?

The scientists are insane. The lot of them...

Well, to Hell with them, and to Hell with this stupid experiment.

Still blurred over by salty tears, your eyes reluctantly trail back up to the entity’s head. If you’re to die, you want to look this thing in the eye when it kills you. You might have lived as a coward, but you’re not so eager to die as one.

You’ve been afraid to defy them for so long, terrified – paralysed by the possibility of what these people might do to you in retaliation of defiance. But somehow, being here surrounded by the bodies of your fellow prisoners, knowing you’re about to meet the same fate, you can’t think of anything more satisfying than not giving the Foundation what they want.

Oh certainly, you imagine they’ll soon get some other D-Class to do the job you failed to do, but if causing the Lab Coats a mild inconvenience before you die is how they remember you, you think you’ll be okay with that.

You have to be okay with it. There’s nothing else you can be now, seconds from having your body turned into, as Mullins so eloquently put it, Swiss cheese.

Stiffening your upper lip, you aim a shaky scowl at the window, eyes bloodshot with tears and fatigue. And in an act you hope looks as rebellious as it feels, you open your arms and let the gun fall to the ground with an almighty clatter, drawing the SCP’s attention back onto yourself.

A strangled noise escapes the speakers before you hear, “D – One-nine-three-five! Retrieve your weapon at once!”

Ignoring him, you roll your gaze over to the SCP and let your arms flop defeatedly to your sides, teeth clenched shut to try and hold onto your sobs.

That enormous, horned head cocks sideways at you, and through your tear-streaked vision, you almost believe you can see its gatling arm drop ever so slightly, and the glow in its barrels fade from red-hot to warm-orange.

“Please,” you find your voice, blindly toeing a plimsole forwards and giving the gun a weak kick, listening to it slide a few feet away from you. You’re unaware that the beast’s gaze tracks your discarded weapon across the room. “Just… make it quick?”

The body closest to you still has his eyes intact, and they stare up at you from the floor, glassy and unseeing. You wonder if his death was quick. You hope so. It looks like it should have been.

The entity regards you with its wide, fiery snarl, unblinking, calculating. As the seconds tick by, you find yourself fidgeting and sparing glances between its gun and its armoured face.

What the Hell is it waiting for?

All of a sudden, two slitted nostrils appear above the SCP’s mouth, glowing with the same liquid gold that shimmers in its eyes. They flare hotly for a moment, kicking out a noisy whumph of air, and then…

Against every odd…

The SCP snatches its head away from you and… and drops its gun arm with a gruff snort, glaring at the wall opposite the scientists.

You blink once.

Seconds later, you have to blink again, clearing your vision slightly.

Why… are you still alive?

“Um…” you utter, for lack of any better ideas.

The SCP doesn’t turn to acknowledge the sound of your voice. In fact, it seems entirely adamant in subjecting the concrete wall to a fearsome glower instead as it thumps the barrels of its gun to the ground and leans its weight on that arm, its mighty chest heaving in and out with a huff.

… Perhaps you’re going mad. That’s it. That must be part of its power. It makes people go mad. Why else would you be plagued by the feeling that you’re being deliberately ignored?

On the other side of the glass, a young scientist hovers over the microphone, trembling with unprofessional agitation and apprehension.

“D-Class!” he barks shrilly, pushing down on the button so hard his fingertip turns white, “If you don’t pick up your rifle at once, I will have no choice but to-!”

“- Quiet Spencer…” Another voice - older, authoritative – snaps, causing the shrieking man to immediately fall silent and cower away from the microphone as obediently as a beaten dog. It even hushes the mutters of every other scientist in the observation room. Narrow eyes stare unblinkingly through coke-bottle spectacles, observing the interaction beyond the observation window with cool interest. “This is the longest a D-Class has survived with this specimen…” she points out, listening to the intern beside her scribble down the minutes, “I’d like to find out why.”

She watches the Disposable’s face turn towards the glass, trying to meet any of the scientists’ gazes, apparently seeking some sort of explanation to the SCP's behaviour.

Join the club.

“… Ma’am?” someone asks after several seconds pass without an answer, turning to face her, their expression inquiring.

For a further minute, she elects to stand there in silence, thoughtfully tapping a manicured nail against the microphone button, contemplating the magnificent creature and the miniscule human currently sharing a space.

Then, with a deliberate slowness, she slides her finger from the button and folds her arms, lab coat wrinkling around her elbows.

“The D-Class gets five minutes inside before extraction,” she declares, shooting a nod at her intern who scrambles to fish a stopwatch from his pocket and stabs his thumb on the button. Once she hears the sharp ‘beep,’ she returns her attention to the staff around her and adds, “No external input.”

There are murmurs of varying approval rising and falling all throughout the room, but once again, she only has eyes for the SCP.

“Let’s see if this D-Class proves more useful than the predecessors…”

---

“Hello?” you whisper-shout at the scientists behind the window, keeping the entity in the corner of your eye, “Um...”

Christ, this is awkward... "Can I... Can I leave, or...?"

Silence.

Impassive, boring silence.

Aside from the occasional motion made to scribble something down on a clipboard, none of the scientists seem inclined to offer anything more through the microphone.

Gradually, the tired muscles in your shoulder tighten.

You’ve seen this before. D-Class call it the ‘silent treatment,’ where scientists are more interested in seeing what you can find out about SCPs of your own volition.

Are you supposed to have survived for this long? Your mind races with the thought that your predecessors might have been subjected to the same thing before they met their end. You may end up a smear on the wall yet. Half of you is weary enough to hope that’s the case. You’ve just defied a direct order from one of the Lab Coats. You shudder to imagine which SCP they’ll toss you to after this.

It’s that thought alone that spurs you to take a single step towards this entity, intending to get this over with, but no sooner have you moved closer than it whips its head towards you again, and that gun is back up, the cylinders clicking furiously in response to your proximity.

You realise at once that you’d become too bold without its weapon pointed at you because now, that same fear has returned tenfold, sending you staggering backwards again to put some more distance between you and that deadly arm.

Slamming your eyes shut, you raise your hands up in front of your face, breath hitching as you wait to feel the first of many bullets slamming into your flesh.

… You count no less than ten heartbeats without feeling a thing.

------------------------------------------------

“Two minutes to go, ma’am,” the intern quibbles at her side.

Eyes gleaming, she watches you stand shaking in front of the SCP, arms lifted in what she presumes must be surrender. “Fascinating,” she murmurs, “The entity still hasn’t fired a single round…”

“You think it’s run out of ammo?” one of the other scientists asks, bolder than his fellows in the face of their superior.

“Perhaps,” she muses, eyeing the SCP’s ‘tail’ that hangs slack behind it this time, not poised to strike over its head like a cobra, “But perhaps it’s just as likely that it won’t fire unless it’s fired upon first.”

The intern, apparently emboldened by another voice speaking up before him, says, “Um, would that class it as a Euclid then?”

Someone scoffs derisively.

“That cannot be determined at present,” she returns cooly, “We haven’t enough data… That being said...”

Stepping closer to the window, arms coming to clasp loosely behind her back, she tilts her head sideways and regards you with the mild interest of a spider watching a fly struggle in her web. “Thanks to this D-Class, we now know far more about the SCP than we did before… And all because an order was disregarded…”

“Impertinence,” someone spits.

“Initiative,” she returns sharply, the beginnings of a rare and pensive smile lifting her cheeks, “Mullins.”

The guard near the back of the room snaps to attention.

“Prepare for extraction in one minute’s time… And return our lucky D-Class to isolation. Forty-eight hours, I think. Regular meals. That should give us enough time to make arrangements for the next test.”

“Ma’am,” he grunts, moving up to the primary door.

“Er…” The intern beside her shifts on his feet, casting apprehensive glances between the SCP and the D-Class, “What is the next test…? Oh-! Um, Ma’am?”

What indeed? Her mind is already swirling with possibilities, the first of which sticks in place as she contemplates the logistics of it, turning it over and making mental arrangements that’ll need to be put in place.

“The next test?” she replies absently, gazing up at the entity’s fangs that are still being bared down at you, though it hasn’t made a move against you yet, “We’re going to see what, if anything, this SCP likes to eat.”

#darksiders #darksiders genesis #Strife x Reader #Anarchy x reader #SCP au #D-class #Already tapping up chapter 2 as we speak

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melanated-writersblock · 2 months ago

Text

🪮Beauty Supply Store Run w/ ATEEZ🪮

A/N: For my blacktiny that like to keep their ✨hair did✨, the idea crossed my mind a time or two and existed in my drafts as a title alone for months, so I thought I’d finally add some sort of body and post it🙂‍↕️. Not too terribly long, but I hope it’s still enjoyable nonetheless! As always, likes, comments, & reblogs are greatly appreciated!

⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹ Hongjoong ⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹

⟢ You two were out running errands all morning and this was your last stop before heading home.

⟢ Hongjoong figured he’d go in with you instead of just staying in the car.

⟢ You went straight to the back and got your go to burgundy braiding hair.

⟢ Hongjoong made it his business to buy hair coloring so his hair could match your braids when they’re done.

⟢ When you made it to the register, he got offended that you even pulled out your card to pay and stared you tf down until you put it back up🥴.

⟢ “Please don’t do that again while I’m here.”

⟢ Ofc he whipped out his card and paid!

⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹ Seonghwa ⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹

⟢ It got to a point where he was spending more money than you🤦🏾‍♀️.

⟢ You already had a plan of attack for what you were gonna buy, but once Hwa saw all the extra stuff the store had he kinda went off the rails.

⟢ Not even half way through the store yet and he was already toting a hand basket full of hair ties, those zigzag headbands that pull your hair back in a wave pattern, mini claw clips, skin moisturizer, eye cream, face masks, lip balm, etc.

⟢ You had to stop him from buying a children’s bonnet because it had animal crossing characters on it!

⟢ “Hwa please, you don’t need all of that!”, “But there’s stuff in here for you too! Look, you just ran out of lipgloss so I got this one and there’s shimmer in it.”

⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹ Yunho ⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹

⟢ You went in to specifically get more deep conditioner and Jamaican black caster oil with a couple of other stuff for your next wash days, and asked Yunho to keep you on track with your shopping.

⟢ You tried not to stare at stuff for too long bc Yunho likes to spoil you, and it wouldn’t make any sense if you’re trying to be good in the store but he goes and gets the stuff anyway😩.

⟢ He made a joke about buying you your own beauty supply store in passing, but knowing him it wasn’t a joke I fear…

⟢ The store had a sale on crochet locs and he saw the want in your eyes, so he snuck to the back to get 8 packs and paid for it while you wondered back in one of the aisles to get the spray bottle you forgot.

⟢ “I’ll be in the car when you’re done, Love.” Yunho called to you from the register before making a discreet run for the door so you couldn’t see his surprise.

⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹ Yeosang ⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹

⟢ He’s a yes man I fear…

⟢ You knew you wanted to do a protective style, BUT you hadn’t decided which style you wanted to do yet, so Yeosang proposed the idea of “letting the hair god decide”, which meant you’d think of a style while shopping…bless his heart🙂‍↔️.

⟢ He didn’t know there were levels to this shit so now y’all have been in the store for an hour looking through different types of hair.

⟢ “If I get these bundles I could do a sew-in,” “That would look so nice!” “Waaaaaiiittt, if I get another pack of double strand cuban twists I’d have enough back home to do faux locs, should I?” “Yes you should,” “I gotta do waist length box braids immediately.” “You have to, and they need to be waist length exactly!” “Or should it be a bob?” “Yes, get a bob!”.

⟢ He’s just happy to be gang forreal😭.

⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹ San ⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹

⟢ The first time San went to the supply store with you, he didn’t know what he was expecting but he was gagged.

⟢ He thought he was on top of the names of the hairstyles you would wear…

⟢ Imagine his shame when you admit you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him he was wrong several times.

⟢ You gave him a crash course on your most favorite styles right there while walking through the aisles.

⟢ San has Pinterest open and at the ready with every namedrop.

⟢ “So the goddess locs aren’t passion twists,” “Right.” “And passion twists aren’t bantu knots.” “Exactly!”

⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹ Mingi ⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹

⟢ Like a kid in a candy store.

⟢ Was vibing to the radio station, and kept pointing out the wall posters with different hair models on them, “You’d look so good with this style!”

⟢ Keeps holding up different packs of braiding hair colors to the side of your face, and you can’t help but laugh “Boy, what are you doing?” “I’m doing a color evaluation on you like in those youtube videos!”

⟢ The hair store turns him into a yapper, he even started chatting up the owner.

⟢ He kept going back and forth between the aisles and the front register, and had a full conversation happening with you and with the owner…AT THE SAME DAMN TIME.

⟢ But by the time you were ready to check out, someway…somehow…you ended up with a big ass discount😝!

⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹ Wooyoung ⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹

⟢ Wooyoung made it his business to accompany you to the hairstore the next time you went after you returned home with $264 worth of stuff last time.

⟢ Crazily enough, you were only in there then for a new rat-tail comb cause you broke the last one in the middle of parting your hair.

⟢ He pushed the cart while you walked the aisles, following your eyes and what they were landing on.

⟢ “Aht! Aht! Put it back.” Wooyoung scolds you, pointing at the empty spot below the wig wall. You groan before putting the honey balayage Latisha unit back on the hanging rack.

⟢ “But Latisha is always sold out when I come up here though,” “You’re here for a new hair dryer and Eco Styling Gel, and “Latisha” is not one of those two things.”

⟢ You stare at him annoyed as he blows you a kiss, “I’m leaving your ass home next time.”

⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹ Jongho ⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹

⟢ A PRO✨

⟢ Your Jongiebear is not new to this, he’s TRUE to this!!!

⟢ He came over to your place to spend the weekend a while back and saw you in action doing your own twists.

⟢ He was curious and wanted to know more, so you spent the evening telling him hair stories and the importance behind it and what it means for you, he’s been enlightened ever since.

⟢ He made a playlist on youtube full of tutorial videos for various hairstyles, so he can “help you with your hair” but it’s also to spend more time with you.

⟢ He has golden hands and you literally only trust him to help you install or take down your styles when you do them at home now.

⟢ He was installing your bubble braids with your leftover packs of hair, but half way through you ran out.

⟢ He initiated the trip himself, fully determined to finish the style in the span of 4 hours like the youtuber said it would be. And you walked in that store grinning from ear to ear.

⟢ He knew the brand, texture, color, and length, don’t play with him😮‍💨.

⟢ You were gonna pay but he was so in his zone, you had to let him have his moment. He paid for the packs, and the bubble braids came out 👑FLAWLESS👑!

⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹ Hope you liked it! Lemme know your thoughts🫶🏾 ⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹

⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹.Masterlist.⊹ ₊ ❤︎₊ ⊹

⋆˙⟡♡₊˚⊹.Blacktiny Writers Hub.⊹˚₊♡⟡˙⋆

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champagnefountains · 11 months ago

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I have a request if they're still open.

Alastor decides to hire Reader as a radio intern. He first did it for entertainment, sending them out to do ridiculously hard and long tasks for his own amusement, like fetching him coffee from the other side of Hell in a super short period of time or proof reading scripts that he purposely made completely illegible to anyone but himself, but had slowly begun to fall for them the longer they stuck around.

ALASTOR - H.H.

Prompt: Being Alastor's radio intern.

Thank you for your request anon! I hope you'll enjoy this one!

Word count: 1.5k+ words. Genre/other tags: Fluff. Humour. Warnings: None.

You were unfortunate to have your soul be owned by the renowned Radio-Demon. Tough luck. You were merely a desperate soul who needed a major favour to be done by yours truly, and are now forever tied and forced to do his bidding. You initially expected a life-time of torture and pain, but was pleasantly surprised when he had requested for you to be his personal radio-intern-slash-assistant.

"Dear Charlie and I have been so, so busy and I just need an extra hand is all...and that's where you come in!" He chimed, pinching your cheek. Alastor explained that he needed someone to assist in managing his radio-broadcasts and schedules while he was out playing hotelier. And just as you thought that you were off the hook, it turns out that this had been his own, little way of torturing you.

Alastor made you do the most ridiculous and tedious tasks ever – like fetching a cup of coffee from a cafe situating on the other side of Hell, or obtain some weird, obscure item from sketchy shops in the most dangerous and chaotic districts in all the Nine Circles, only for it to have little to no significance to him at all. Of course, you did some actual radio-intern-related tasks, but it didn't make things any easier for you. More so than often, Alastor would give you a stack-pile of his broadcast scripts to proof-read. The only problem was that all of it was mostly illegible, almost appearing like chicken scratch. It was then that you knew for certain he was doing this as some sort of sick entertainment for himself, knowing that he had the neatest penmanship amongst the entire team. Oh, and don't even get started with the ridiculous deadlines!

All in all, Alastor was constantly giving you a hard time. However, you were determined to not let him continue to walk all over you. After some time, you were slowly getting used to his strange requests and behaviours, and managed to find ways to work around them. Oh, he wanted his oddly specific order of coffee? You already had it ordered beforehand, and even had the beans supplied to have it readily brewed in the Hotel. He asked for some random-ass antique item? You had already established some connections during your previous commutes, and will have it delivered on the doorstep the next day. You needed to proof-read his scripts? You've learnt to decipher his hieroglyphics and were able to get them done hours before its deadline, whilst also adding in a few of your own critiques and comments.

Already a couple months in the job and you've already got it in the bag. And if he was being honest, Alastor was surprised with your progress. Dare say that he was even impressed! It was like no matter what he had thrown your way, you were able to catch it with ease. Yes, he had to admit: he did initially hire you for his own entertainment – you were his little play-thing when boredom struck – but you had proved yourself as an important asset and massive help towards him and the Hotel. You even went out of your way to help with tasks in the Hotel, such as tending the front desk with Cherri, assisting in the kitchen with Nifty, and even managing some group activities alongside Charlie and Vaggie.

You were incredibly hard-working, selfless and compassionate. Alastor and everyone in the Hotel could see it. It initially ticked Alastor off, seeing that his plans were foiled and were tailored to your favour, but the more you stuck around and spent time with himself and everyone else, he genuinely began enjoying your company. And vice versa. When he wasn't being the overbearing and unreasonable boss that he can be, you actually found yourself having fun in Alastor's presence, now often chuckling at his jokes and schemes.

But that wasn't the only thing that changed.

Alastor came to a stark realisation that he had developed feelings for you. It was a foreign feeling to him, which initially confused him at first but it filled him with such warmth that his cold-heart craved for. He found himself seeking your presence constantly (more than usual, that is), always making an effort to talk to you (again, more than usual), and at times, forcing you to stay in his office while he worked on his scripts, and even have you sit through his broadcasts. Even if it wasn't obvious, Alastor's feelings were overwhelming him with each passing day – he didn't know how to go about it.

So Alastor resorted to what he does with most things – in straight-forward and curt fashion, of course.

"S-Sir, you...y-you want me to do what?" You stuttered, a rapid and violent blush suddenly taking over your face. "I said, I want you to go out with me!" Alastor repeated nonchalantly, all the while jokingly tapping a finger on his microphone, "hello, hello? Is this thing on? Testing, testing!" You couldn't help but gawk at the deer-demon and his bluntness. He had summoned you to his office out-of-the-blue, requesting your presence urgently in the midst of an activity session you were co-hosting with Vaggie. With the way he went about it, you would've thought that there was some sort of emergency. Not...well, not this.

"...Go out with you? Like...on a walk, or something?" You slowly reiterated, trying to get a grasp on what he was trying to say. Alastor hums to himself, tapping his chin in thought. "Well, if that's what you prefer to do on our date, then I suppose that would be quite swell! We can fit that right in once we've had our dinner," He nods after a brief moment’s contemplation. It nearly sent your eyes popping out of its sockets. "Woah, woah! A-A date?! You mean, a date?! With–with me?!" You exclaimed, pointing to yourself in disbelief. The Overlord rose a brow.

"Why, of course! You're the only one in the room that I'm currently talking to, dear! Oh, hoh, you're quite silly, aren't you?" He chuckles, shaking his head. "B-But...don't you think this is like–I don't know, a bit unprofessional, sir?" You timidly ask, picking at your fingers, "you are my boss, after all..."

Alastor tilted his head to the side, humming, "Hm, perhaps. But I believe we’ve already crossed that boundary long ago, don’t you think? We’ve treated each other like good, ol’ comrades rather than just co-workers these past few months, have we not?” You blink. “I…I guess we have,” you blankly affirm.

“Right? So, with that being said, I can't help but want something more. I do wish to properly court you. After all, it's not everyday a mortal soul such as yourself could pique my interest. That means to say that you’re quite exceptional, dear!” You couldn’t help but nervously chuckle at the flattery, shaking your head, “w-well, I don’t know about that–”

“Oh, none of that nonsense!” He suddenly swoops in, waving a hand and shaking his head, “I don’t think I’ve met anyone who has managed to keep up at my level the way you have. It’s very impressive and admirable – take my word for it!”

Alastor then suddenly evades your personal space, leaning down to eye-to-eye level with you. It startles you momentarily but you decidedly maintain eye-contact with him, too nervous to look away. It causes his grin to widen. "And I can bravely assume that you wouldn't mind taking up my offer...as you haven't yet made any effort or comment to decline it, hm?" He smartly comments, looking at you expectedly.

Well..damn, he got you there, didn’t he? Because in truth, you did enjoy the playful dynamic you've established with him. You found satisfaction in the little praises and smiles Alastor would send your way whenever you accomplished something and slowly, you found yourself valuing his opinion of you. You then tried to up yourself with each passing day, and it was just as shocking for you when you came to terms with your own feelings.

And that’s how you found yourself being courted by the Radio-Demon himself.

After that, nothing much had changed in your dynamic with Alastor – you still continued being his radio-assistant. Well, other than the fact that he had become more openly sweet towards you. This meant calling you a variety of pet-names and giving you a little less work for you when he knows you’ve worked yourself hard enough. Small pecks and kisses will be rewarded when you would hand him his cup of coffee every morning, and he would invite you to join and sit on his lap when he would do his frequent broadcasts. He would also teasingly ask you to call him ‘sir’, knowing that it’ll fluster you so much – he just loved and enjoyed seeing you turn red all over. He even stopped with his hieroglyphics, reverting back to his usual handwriting when writing his scripts – the joke’s gone a bit stale, he says. And at the end of a long, tiring day, Alastor would have you in his arms as you happily basked in each other’s company.

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel

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redsrooftopprincess · 4 months ago

Text

Gravity (Part 2)

This may be becoming a thing. There will be at least one more chapter and I have no idea what to call this thing. Maybe by the end I'll know. 😅

Gn reader x Raphael

Warnings: Hypothermia, language (but I think that's a given in a Raph fic?)

Part 1 Part 3

It had been one week. One week since he'd slipped. One week since the fever carried him to your rooftop.

You haven't spoken. More specifically, he hasn't spoken. Apart from texting you when he made it home like you insisted he did every night, it had been radio silence. You texted him before his patrol like you always did, and he stared at his phone, expressionless, before putting it back in his pocket.

What could he say?

He'd already had the conversation a thousand times in his head, and as far as he was concerned, it didn't need to be said. He didn't need you to let him down easy.

Because you'd mean it. Every damn word. You're sorry. He's your best friend. Nothing has to change.

But it would change, there was no way it couldn't. Things were different now.

That night had been the worst of it. He'd left not long after his confession. At that point, just the sound of your voice was enough to make him weep, and he didn't want to make things worse. Not that he thought they could *get* worse.

He made up some excuse about Leo calling it early, and ran.

He was running now, through the freezing rain, a sudden cold snap in the middle of spring, and hoping that between the temperature and the downpour hammering into his coat, he could think about anything else.

It wasn't long before he was considering ditching the coat. It was already soaked through, and weighing him down, which was hard to do.

That gave him pause.

He stopped, ducking under an overhang, and opened his coat, pulling the fabric back to expose his side. He twisted and looked at the small device mounted onto his shell just under his shoulder blade. There was supposed to be a little red light. There wasn't.

Shit.

They each had them. One of the first inventions D had come up with after they'd started doing patrols as kids.

A blizzard had suddenly torn through the city one night, and they were woefully unprepared with only winter coats. The cold dropped their body temperatures, and then them. Splinter had to hunt across the rooftops until he found them, asleep and hypothermic, huddled behind a construction dumpster.

Donnie didn't leave his lab for days. He blamed himself, he should have known the blizzard was coming, that their gear was insufficient, he should have had *some* kind of backup heat supply. No matter how many times his family told him otherwise, it was his fault, and he would never let it happen again.

So he built something to fix it. Raph didn't really get a lot of the specifics, but the overall was that the small devices "converted kinetic energy into heat that was then stored and distributed throughout the inside of their shells." Or, as Raph understands it, as long as you keep moving, you won't die.

One night a few weeks ago, someone had gotten lucky and he had taken a rusted rebar to the chest that had shattered on impact. His regulator had been damaged by the shrapnel, but the weather had already been warming up, and then the season hit and it was forgotten about.

The rain must have been the final nail, only the exterior was watertight. It was dead. He could already feel the cold and damp setting in. He needed to get home. Fast.

He set off, the only sound other than the roar of the rain was the gradually slowing heartbeat that pounded in his ears.

*Fuck* it was cold.

It wasn't long before his waterlogged coat became too much to carry. He ditched it behind an air conditioning unit, and kept moving.

Hailstones felt like bullets as they pelted bare skin, and through the sheets of rain, the haze of cold and exhaustion that had started at the edges was encroaching. It wasn't long before he was too tired to think.

He was moving on pure instinct, without even the presence of mind to pray he could make it somewhere safe. Somewhere in the back of his mind a tiny Leo was lecturing him for not hitting his emergency signal.

He stumbles. He is so, so tired. The soft darkness of sleep is pulling at him like a rip tide. He drags himself to the next rooftop, barely touching down before he collapses.

#bayverse raphael #tmnt #tmnt raph x reader #tmnt Raphael #Bayverse Raphael x reader

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domreader-headcannon-scenarios · 4 months ago

Note

SEBASTIAN SOLACE PLEASE I NEED TO BE FUCKED BY THAT MAN 🙏🏻

(I'm sorry if you need specifics aaah 😭 but FTM reader if you do that! Have a nice day!)

I did gender neutral/AFAB

Sebastian

Cw: double dicks, snake anatomy, overstim, slight edging and begging,

“Don’t think this is something I’ll do again in the future, at least not free.” Sebastian murmured, two of his eyes closed and one, the one hidden under his hair watched you out of the corner of his eye. “I’m just cold and everything else is metal or stone.”

You nodded, indifferent to his excuses, you gently felt his scales, tracing a bit below his stomach. Sebastian tensed a bit but didn’t stop you. He sat upright and tilted his head at you, his eyes now open, the ‘light’ he’s producing isn’t bright, almost like a nightlight, but still you’d have to squint to look at his eyes.

His scales were smooth and kind of nice to touch, almost…soothing. You ignored the weird look he gave you and traced small patterns on his abdomen. Eventually, half asleep, your hands drift closer to you, but you feel a bump in his scales. He gasped at the touch and you worried maybe he’d hurt himself there, then you felt your finger slip into…an opening?

You looked at where your hand was, there was…a vertical slit?

Sebastian jolted and leaned forward, moving your hand out of the way. “That’s not a place you want to touch!” He said with a whine in his voice. But you noticed…something begin peeking out of the spit. You paused, you’d had a few times interacting with snakes, enough to realize something you were taught in school.

Male snakes often have a bump, where there slit sheathes their cocks until they are needed.

You’d basically touched his dick…

“My bad.” You said looking up at him to see his cheeks were light purpleish, almost like he was blushing. “I uh…wasn’t meaning to touch there. Sorry.” You apologized, looking away, but before you could get up he gently grabs your arm.

“No no no, it’s…” Sebastian paused and looked away. “It felt good…I wouldn’t mind you touching there, I was just surprised and…I didn’t want to startle you with my…”

He gestured downwards and you see, both his cocks are peeking out. He looked back to you and mumbled something you didn’t hear. “Could you repeat that?” You ask.

With an aggravated huff. He reaches down rubbing himself, futher coaxing his cocks out. “Look, I’ll give you back the data I took and some free items if you…” He trailed off but you knew what he meant. With a glance down you can see his cocks twitch.

“Deal.” You say, data wasn’t as easy to obtain as you hoped, and supplies are worth giving a snake guy a handjob, right? Well, in this moment it felt that way…

Maybe it’s just you, wanting to get out of here, you look down, eyeing his cocks, one is noticbly smaller than the other, but a little thicker, while the other was longer and slightly thinner.

You take the smaller one in your hand, lightly thumbing the tip to test the waters, earning a deep moan. Sebastian leaned back, laying on his side to watch you, his eyes half lidded as you rub him, his hips twitch forwards and you feel something tighten around your waist.

“Fuck, like that…mind giving the other one a ‘hand’?” Sebastian said, blushing more and grinning. His hips buckled forwards, leaving the cock awaiting your attention to twitch and smack against his own stomach.

“Well…you don’t need me to stimulate it, right? You’ll cum if I rub only one, right?” You tease, earning a huff. He glared at you while trying to hide his blush.

“…I’ll give you a new flash beacon…” He grumbled out. You click your tongue with a grin.

“And apologize for breaking my old one.”

He hissed but cleared his throats. “I’m…sorry for breaking your flash beacon, now…please?” He said slightly annoyed his neglected cock drools as you look down to it.

“Good boy…” You take his hemipenises and strokes them in tandem, earning deep whines from the man, both cocks drooled enough to lube your hands, making movements easier.

Sebastian was blushing hard, whimpering at the praise as his tail smacks against the ground as he gets close. “L-like that….perfect….” He mumbled, trying to brush off the tremble in his voice as you thumb the tips.

It was enough, he peaked, whining as his climax hits him, he spurts his release onto his own stomach, you gently stroke him through his release. He collapses and pants hard. “F-fuck it’s been so long…stop stroking.” He squeaked out the last part.

You don’t, you keep stroking him as his cocks writhe under your touch.

Honestly it almost felt like milking a rowdy cow with…long utters.

Sebastian trembled and whined, his cocks leaking pathetically, hes humiliatingly sensitive from one release. You lean forwards and whisper.

“Maybe…I’ll let you rest if you return the favor…” You whisper into his…fin/ear? He trembles and tries to shove your hands away, but your grip tightens in respond, making him desperately whimper for relief.

“No, I’m already being generous eno-“ He yelps as you pinch the tip of his cock, his tail smacks against the ground hard. He whimpers and you see he wince. “D-dammit, ok-ok!”

He nods quickly, sighing in relief as you let go of his cocks, they look a little more swollen than you remember when they first emerged. They quickly retreat into the slit, as if scared you’ll change your mind.

You let him get a quick breather before continuing, Afterall you’re in no rush.

#nsft #pressure #sebastian solace #sebastian x reader #pressure roblox #sebastian x y/n #sub sebastian #sub Sebastian solace #sub pressure #dom reader #cw overstimulation #cw edging

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it-happened-one-fic · 5 months ago

Text

Gentle Care - Jade

Author Notes: So, this is another fanfic that has been sitting, collecting dust in my Google Docs for quite some time now. It is finally getting to see the light of day because I wanted to post a Jade fic (totally not because of any cards that recently came out on the Japanese server). I didn't really listen to anything specific while writing this, so I really can't say there is any specific inspiration for this fic either. As per usual, reader is gender neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender neutral reader/ sfw/ flirtation/ romance implied/ fluff

Word Count: 1393

When Azul had called to ask for your assistance in patching someone up, you hadn’t been surprised.

First, you’d gotten very good at handling bandages and whatnot simply due to your numerous Overblot experiences. You always ended up with a myriad of bumps and scrapes after those.

Secondly, Floyd getting into a fight was hardly uncommon, so the idea of him being a little scraped up was hardly startling.

Finally, Floyd was perpetually mercurial, and if he’d even implied that he’d sit still and let you bandage him without squirming around, then Azul would do what it took to get you to Octavinelle just to ensure Floyd didn’t cause him any more of a headache.

An added bonus was that Octavinelle had all the supplies you could ever dream of, so there wasn’t even any need for you to bring anything with you. In fact, Grim even stayed at Ramshackle, opting not to join you on your little jaunt to Octavinelle. Though he did make sure to put in a request that you bring home some food for him that had you rolling your eyes slightly as you slipped out the door.

Your only real concerns on the trip to the mirror chamber were whether or not the other person had survived the altercation and how exactly you were going to scold the injured eel, even though you knew perfectly well that your words would do little good to keep him from getting into yet another fight.

Those thoughts vanished though when you stepped into the Mostro Lounge and found yourself greeted with an unexpected sight.

Jade, sitting there as calmly as ever despite the bruises and red scratch marks that were sprinkled across his person as he talked to his brother, who was currently crouched in front of him, “Yes, it seems they mistook me for you, Floyd. Handling them was an easy matter, but-”

Jade halted mid-sentence as he spotted you, his eyes widening briefly before his usual, carefully crafted smile appeared, “I wasn’t expecting you quite yet, Y/n. I do hope you didn't rush.”

It was those oh-so polite words that immediately sparked your ire, sending you striding forward and snatching the bandages off a nearby table as you did so. After all, that long red scratch on his arm looked particularly nasty.

“Do I want to know?” Your irritation was obvious to everyone present, but no one seemed terribly concerned. But, to be fair, you were already kneeling and inspecting the young man’s injuries.

Azul let out a sigh, stepping into the room and holding a stack of papers, “It seems that a group of juniors looking for a fight mistook Jade for Floyd.”

“It’s alright though, Shrimpy. Jade handled ‘em all perfectly well.” Despite Floyd’s reassurance, you were hardly pleased. Eying the tell-tale burn that affirmed that magic had indeed been used in the fight despite school rules.

You glanced up, immediately making eye contact with the injured young man who’d been sitting silently, with a slight smile on his face as he’d watched you this entire time. Almost as if he were gauging the situation before he said anything.

“So you got in a fight you could’ve avoided?” Your flat tone said everything, and Azul took it as a cue to leave. With a single motion, he signaled Floyd, and the two exited the space. Floyd linger long enough to cast a single glance that flickered between you and his brother over his shoulder before he disappeared into the kitchen.

Jade met your accusation with an easy calmness and no small degree of amusement, “I wouldn’t be so sure. That group seemed to have quite a bit of aggression towards my dorm and probably didn’t really care if it was me or Floyd.”

You remained silent as he continued, going about bandaging some of the worse scratches while he calmly spread burn cream on his arm, “And even if I had made them aware of my identity and they’d left, it would’ve simply meant my dear brother would be in my current position, and I couldn’t let that happen.”

You pressed a band-aid down with a bit more pressure than strictly necessary as your eyes found his, “Don’t play coy with me, Jade. You wanted to get in that fight.”

You had to curb your urge to roll your eyes at the innocent expression he gave you before you continued, “You’re far too smug to have not gotten your way.”

With those words, you stood, grabbing another band-aid and turning your attention to the scratch marks that were scattered across his face, “So who were they?”

He smiled, his sharp teeth flashing as he did so, “Three of them were beastmen. I personally thought the Diasomna fellow was stronger, though. But don’t worry, all of them are in far worse shape than me.”

You snorted in response to his all too smug response, your amused tone not matching your chiding words, “Don’t gloat.”

Despite yourself, you were smiling even as Jade spoke again, his tone getting gradually more amused, “It works for Floyd.”

Your gaze flickered over to his, your hands carefully placing the band-aid on his cheek as you frowned at him, “No, it doesn’t, and it won’t for you either. I treat you two the same way.”

You gently smoothed the too-tan fabric across his pale cheek, and he chuckled, “Surely you know better than to lie to me, my dear.”

Your movements stilled as his hand reached up and wrapped around one of yours, his gaze holding yours captive as he smiled like he’d won some sort of game, “You and I both know you treat me far differently than how you treat my brother.”

You tugged at your hand gently, and Jade let it go with ease even as his fingers carefully brushed the skin on his cheek where your hand had just been with a distinctly pleased expression, “Your gentle care for me proves it.”

You crossed your arms, shaking your head slightly as you frowned down at him, “Don’t tease. I might be helping you right now, but I will leave.”

He tilted his head, his expression shifting to a feigned mask of betrayed hurt, “And abandon me to the care of Azul and Floyd? You wouldn’t be so cruel.”

You rolled your eyes slightly at his dramatics but reached over and grabbed another band-aid, “I might. You never know when I’ll surprise you.”

A smile curved across his face as his gaze stayed locked on you even as you focused on one of the other scratches on his otherwise pristine skin, “Indeed, I never do….”

You hummed slightly as he trailed off, “Right, so you’d best watch it and not get hurt like this again. I might not take care of you next time.”

“Wouldn’t that mean playing favorites since you’ve kept on helping every time Floyd gets himself hurt?” He didn’t miss a beat, and you frowned at him, causing him to chuckle, “I won’t make any promises. I rather enjoy getting taken care of, you know.”

You tapped him lightly on the shoulder in a faux slap, “Alright, that’s enough out of you.” You paused, turning to look over your shoulder as you called out to Azul and Floyd that you were done.

Jade tilted his head as you looked back his way, his smile still present as he looked up at you where you stood between his spraddled out legs from his seated position, “Leaving so soon? Floyd made dinner.”

You snorted lightly, shaking your head at his coaxing tone even as Floyd stepped out of the kitchen, “You staying for dinner, Shrimpy?”

You held Jade’s gaze as you felt a smile spread across your face, and, despite yourself, there was very little hesitation as you called back, “Sure! Sounds good!”

And once again, Jade’s smile was all too smug, but at this point that was nothing new. Especially since you knew perfectly well that if he, or Azul, or Floyd, got hurt again, you’d be back to take care of them once again, even though all of you knew it was hardly necessary.

And that was even taking into account that you did play favorites. But you weren’t about to admit that to Jade, and, judging from the smile on his face, he already knew anyway.

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