#it turns out variety IS the spice of life!

[bsaka7]

was slightly worried I would be losing my enthusiasm at this point in the training cycle (we r hitting the mileage build up to the longest run in the next four weeks) but im as excited as ever!

[olberic]

a crucial and often overlooked part of the social media experience is the need to see posts from ppl about things you do not care about. do not misconstrue my words because im not talking about giving bigots a platform. im talking about following ppl who never shut up about a game i never want to play. people who post about their oc for a manga ive never read. fan artists who you have no idea what the hell theyre drawing but you like their style. vaguely horny artists who have kinks i dont understand. people who post about bands from the 70s as if theyre still together and on tour. people who are obsessed with poetry when youve never found a poem you really feel. like sometimes you gotta follow somebody totally at random just for the enrichment and see where it takes you.

[golden1u5t]

eavesdropping | a.h x fem!reader

ꨄ requested: anonymous

ꨄ genre: smut

ꨄ summary: aaron overhears your conversation with penelope about your sex life and he decides to take it upon himself to switch things up.

"Nothing is wrong with our sex life, it's just.... it's getting boring, you know?" You sighed into the phone, lifting your shoulder up to your ear to hold your phone in place so you could use you hands to finish preparing dinner. "No, not yet- I know- I'll talk to him-Soon! Bye, Penelope."

Aaron just so happened to overhear your complaints to Penny about your sex life, he moved from behind the kitchen door and went back to the bedroom. He couldn't understand why you hadn't came to him about your problems but he wasn't upset, not in the slightest. Aaron slipped his shoes and coat on and grabbed his keys, he stopped by the kitchen on his way out and let you know that he had to go to the store.

Aaron rushed out of the house and quickly looked up the closest adult store. When he walked into the store his face turned red. He'd seen the craziest things without a blink of the eye but the second he walked into a store that had varieties of fake dick's and vibrators and he suddenly was blushing like a teenage boy. He cleared his throat and looked around the store, he picked up a few sets of lingerie he thought you would like and some things he thought could spice up your sex life.

After he brought the things he needed, he raced back home. He set the bags in the bedroom without you seeing them, he hid the bag that contained the vibrator and ropes in the closet.

"Y/N?" Aaron wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his head on your shoulder. You turned around in his arms and smiled brightly at him. "I bought you something.

"Oh? Thank you!"

Aaron stepped back and took you by your hand to lead you to the bedroom. When you can't to the bedroom you noticed the bags in the middle of the bed, you looked back at him and opened the bag. You pulled out the sets and laid them own on the bed, Aaron sat down on the bed so he could see your face while you looked at them.

"I didn't know what color you would've wanted so I got one of each." He smiled sheepishly. You looked at the six lingerie sets on the bed, two different sets but three colors. He bought you two red, two black, and two white.

"I love them. Thank you so much." You rounded the bed and sat on his lap, wrapping your arms around him and pressing your lips to his. "I'll try them on for you."

Aaron expected you to leave the room but you started to strip right in front of him, you grabbed the first set which was the red onepiece. You moved in front of him and twirled around, he pulled you closer to him and groaned.

"Stay here, I have something else." He stood up and brushed past you to get the other bags out of the closet. You were confused by why he was buying you so many things, there wasn't any big event going on in your relationship at the moment. Aaron set the bag in front of you and let you pull out the set of ropes and the pink vibrator.

"Aaron, where is this all coming from? Don't get me wrong I'm excited to use them but when did you suddenly get interested in this?" You chuckled and looked at him.

Aaron's hand went to the back of his neck and a small blush coated his cheeks.

"I overheard you talking to Garcia earlier. I thought maybe I would buy some things to, how'd you put it, spice our sex life up." He muttered. You bit down on your bottom lip as your body flushed and cleared your throat, you started to explain yourself but he cut you off with a laugh. "I'm not upset, honey. I didn't buy a lot but this is something new."

You huffed a breath of relief and started to move the outfits off the bed, you opened the vibrator and rope packaging and left them on the bed. You walked around the bed and stood in front of Aaron and wrapped your arms around his neck. You leaned up and brushed your lips against his ear, your breath tickled his ear and caused a shiver to travel up his spine and his cock started to harden.

"I think we should test these out, right now." Aaron groaned and hooked his arms under your legs and picked you up, he carried you to the side of the bed and dropped you on the bed which made you squeal and laugh.

You sat up on your forearms and watched him undress until he was only in his boxers. Aaron moved onto the bed and roughly kissed you, he blindly reached for the ropes and forced himself to pull away from you.

"I'm going to tie you down now, it that okay?" He asked you. You told him that it was okay with you. Aaron lifted your arms and and tied your wrist to the headboard, he checked with you on the tightness before moving to do your legs. You pulled at them to make sure they wouldn't come loose. You felt bare and exposed under his gaze even though you still had the lingerie on, the material was so lightweight and thin that it didn't even feel like you had anything on.

Aaron checked with you to make sure it was okay to start, once again you gave him the green light to do what ever he wanted. Aaron grabbed the vibrator and pressed it against your clothed clit, he turned it to the lowest setting.

Your body jerked at the vibrations coursing through your body, a loud moan erupting from your throat at the new feeling. You and Aaron had never used a vibrator before so you weren't used to the feeling of the vibrations, they still felt good nonetheless.

Aaron's eyes roamed over your body, his gaze landed on your cunt and he could see the dark spot forming from where you were dripping. He started to move the vibrator in a circler motion and he turned the setting up one level.

You moaned, your back arching off the bed as your first orgasm hit you unexpectedly. You went to close your legs but the ropes dug into your skin and reminded you that you were tied down.

"That was quick." Aaron chuckled, removed the vibrator from your cunt, you huffed and laughed along with him.

"It's a new feeling." You breathed. Aaron ran his hand over your thigh before he pushed his boxers, you watched his cock spring out and all you wanted to do was reach out and touch it. Aaron pulled the lingerie aside and guided his cock through your slit, he bumped it into your clit a few times before sliding into you.

Your back arched off the bed, a loud moan sounding through the room. Your cunt clamped down on his cock, sucking him in with each thrust. Aaron leaned over your body and held himself up with one arm so he could hold the vibrator on your clit with the other.

A few orgasms later, the smell of sex filled the room along with the sound of skin on skin. As you approached your last orgasm, your legs shook and a new pressure built in your lower stomach. You were too blissed out to wonder why it didn't feel like all the other ones.

"Aaron- oh fuck-" You gasped, back arching into him as the pressure grew. Aaron pushed his hips into your, groaning at how tight your cunt was around him. You nearly screamed as a stream of liquid gushed out of your cunt, your heart beating fast and hard in your chest.

Aaron slipped out of you as to not overstimulate you, he turned the vibrator off and tossed it to the side. Aaron untied your limbs and pushed your hair from your face.

"Did you just squirt?" He huffed out a breathy laugh as he rubbed over the spots where the ropes were. You nodded your head and tried to catch your breath, a huge grin on your face.

"We gotta try more things." You hummed.

[tinywitchgoblin]

Good, Bad

Hunter x fem!reader x Crosshair, use of she/her but no use of y/n

Summary: nasty smut with Crosshair and Hunter (plot? who’s she?)

Word count: 3.3k (oops)

Warnings: smut MINORS GTFO, threesome (mmf) NO CLONECEST, unprotected piv sex (wrap it up in real life y’all), mention/use of sex toys and handcuffs, lots of degradation, also lots of praise, honorifics (sir), use of safewords, Tech makes sex toys, edging, face fucking/riding, oral (m and f receiving), spanking, creampies, choking, overstimulation, I think that’s it??

a/n: I rb’d this post ⬇️ with these tags and got an anon ask to write the fic so here we are!!

a/n 2: this is my first time writing explicitly kink stuff, so if I messed anything big up, please let me know. I did some research, but there’s a possibility that I missed something

What you had with Hunter and Crosshair didn’t really have a label. It wasn’t quite friends with benefits, given that you were exclusive, but you weren’t quite dating, either. What wasn’t ambiguous, however, was that the sex was top-tier. The two of them had lots of experience, and they sure put it to good use. They took you individually, together, in the bedroom, in the closet, in the shower, you name it. This dynamic gave new meaning to the concept of “variety is the spice of life,” and tonight, things were gonna get spicy.

So that’s how you found yourself in your room with the guys, Hunter stood behind you rubbing your shoulders to ease the tension there while Crosshair got things prepared. He’d grabbed lube, a couple of toys, a waterproof blanket for the bed, some water bottles, a couple of toys, and some other supplies to use throughout the evening. 

“You sure you’re up for this mesh’la?” Hunter inquired, always intent on making sure you gave consent. One of his favorite things was asking for your consent enough times to the point where you’d beg for him to fuck you- and he loved every bit of it. 

“Yes, I’m ready,” you affirmed. 

“You remember the safeword system?” Crosshair questioned. 

“Yes, I remember,” you reassured. 

“Then say it back to us. We want to make sure everyone is on the same page, and that we keep you safe,” Hunter asserted. You turned around to look him in the eyes before responding, “Green means ‘keep going’, yellow means ‘slow down’ or ‘proceed with caution’, red means ‘pause’, and black means we’re done for the evening,” you recited. “And I’m green right now; all set to go.”

“Well done, mesh’la, I’m so proud of you,” Hunter murmured, nuzzling into your neck. “So good at being good.”

“There’s no way this little slut would forget the system,” Crosshair whispered from behind you, turning your face towards him before continuing, “We couldn’t fuck it out of her even if we tried. Little cockwhore needs to be filled, and she knows she needs the safewords in order to get what she wants.” 

You let out a little whimper- so that’s the chosen dynamic for tonight. Hunter fed your praise kink, while Crosshair took hold of your need to be degraded. You lovingly referred to it as the ‘good cock, bad cock’ routine. “So… what are things looking like for tonight?”

“You see those toys over there?” Hunter indicated over to the dresser where Crosshair’s little ‘assistants’ for the evening were displayed. “Crosshair is gonna use these on you, and you’re gonna follow his directions exactly. When you do, I get to reward you. Deal?” 

“If she’s good,” Crosshair corrected. “Sometimes the little slut can’t help but break the rules. And if that happens… no reward.”

“She’ll be good,” Hunter asserted. Turning to you, he asked, “Isn’t that right, mesh’la?”

“Yes sir, I’ll be good,” you assured. Hunter gave his brother a knowing look, to which Crosshair gave his usual scowl. 

“Get on the bed, little cumslut,” Crosshair demanded, to which you gave a quiet “yes, sir,”

Crosshair led you over to the bed, grabbing a pair of cuffs on the way. They’d been specially made by Tech for these sorts of situations. In fact, all of the toys on display were ones Tech had made. His were better than any you’d been able to find at a store or online, so they showed up pretty regularly during scenes that involved toys. Holding up the cuffs, he asked, “What color?”

“Green,” you replied, holding your wrists to the bed frame where you knew he’d ask you to put them.

“Good girl, knowing exactly what to do,” Hunter praised, laying down next to you and brushing a hand over your cheek. 

“You give her too much credit, she’s doing exactly what I fucking told her to,” Crosshair retorted. “Little bitch knows I expect nothing less. Isn’t that right, naughty girl?”

“Yes sir,” you responded, but that wasn’t enough.

“Yes sir, what?” Crosshair demanded. 

“Yes sir, I did what you told me to,” you repeated. Hunter decided to stay quiet for the moment, letting Crosshair do as he pleased. Crosshair got up and walked back over to the dresser, looking down at his options for how to proceed. He definitely wanted to use the wand at some point; you always looked so pitiful when edged for long enough, plus hearing you beg to be allowed to cum turned him on like nothing else. He also considered using the buttplug, but that wasn’t the highest thing on his list of priorities at the moment. Browsing over the other options, he grabbed the wand and the lube, figuring he could come back and reevaluate later. 

Meanwhile, Hunter had tilted your face towards him, kissing you gently. As he did so, one of his hands went from holding your face to massaging a breast, earning a moan, which he swallowed eagerly. Noticing that Crosshair was ready to continue, he pulled away, but stayed within arm’s reach to give you support. 

“Color?” Crosshair asked. 

“Green,” you gave, a bit more breathless than before. Hunter’s kisses always did that to you. 

“This is what I’m going to do to you. I’m going to use this wand on you, and you’re not allowed to come. If you do, I’m going to use the cane on you, and for each second of your orgasm, you will receive one hit to the ass. Repeat back to me what I said.”

“You’re going to use the wand on me and edge me. If I come, I get one hit to the ass with the cane for each second of my orgasm.”

Without another word, Crosshair settled between your legs, squirting a bit of lube onto his hands and the wand before turning it on. He dragged it up the inside of your left thigh, watching you squirm, desperately trying to get some sort of friction. Putting down the wand and grabbing your legs, Crosshair forced them open even more. “Keep your legs open, little slut. I’ve seen you do it before, don’t be lazy.”

“You can keep those pretty legs of yours open, right, baby?” Hunter chimed in, brushing a stray hair out of your face. 

“Yes, sirs,” you affirmed, focusing on keeping your legs open and ready as Crosshair kept teasing you with the toy. He would bring it closer to your aching cunt before moving it away. You knew he loved teasing you like this; you also knew he could take his sweet time when he wanted to. Thankfully, he was feeling a bit impatient tonight. 

When he moved the toy to where you needed it most, your body jerked, trying to get more. A strong smack to the thigh told you to keep still as he ghosted the wand over your clit. You focused all of your energy on staying still and keeping your legs open, but it was getting increasingly difficult as Crosshair applied more pressure with the wand. The whole time, you could feel Hunter’s presence next to you, and at one point, he brought one of his hands up to hold yours where they were bound to the bed frame. 

As you felt yourself approaching the precipice, Crosshair pulled the toy away and sat there for a moment, watching your cunt spasm around nothing, longing to be filled. But he wasn’t about to let you get what you wanted so easily. 

“That was me going easy on you,” Crosshair divulged. “It only gets more difficult from here, and remember what I told you would happen if you come before I give you permission. No, tell me what happens if you come early.”

“If I come, I get one hit to the ass with the cane for each second of my orgasm,” you remembered. With a single nod, Crosshair redirected his attention to your pussy, reacquainting it with the wand. Tired from your first edge, your control over your body was slipping, and you felt your orgasm nearing once again. This time, Crosshair kept the wand on for longer, and you had to muster all of your energy to keep from coming. 

Finally, he pulled away, and you breathed a sigh of relief. Looking over towards Hunter, you saw he’d started palming himself, patiently waiting for the show to continue. When he saw you looking at him, he asked, “Think you could help me out with this, mesh’la?”

“How can I help?” you asked, glancing up at your still-bound hands. 

“Let me ride that pretty face of yours. Your mouth always feels so good, and it’ll give you something to concentrate on while Cross is edging you,” he clarified, looking over to Crosshair to make sure he was okay with that idea. With a nod, he looked back to you, he asked, “Is that okay with you? What color?”

“Green,” you responded, looking forward to having Hunter’s cock down your throat. 

“What is Hunter about to do to you, cockslut? Say it back to us,” Crosshair demanded. 

“He’s gonna ride my face and fuck my mouth, use me how he wants,” you whispered, looking over as Hunter climbed over your face. 

“Such a good girl,” Hunter moaned, and without another word, he sunk into your awaiting mouth, grabbing onto the bed frame for balance. Crosshair placed the wand back on your clit, and you moaned around Hunter’s cock as he bottomed out. He held still for a moment, getting used to the feeling of your throat, while you tried to focus on breathing through your nose. He was big, and it had taken a while to train you to be able to take all of him. He moved his hands so that they were holding yours, while still maintaining his balance. 

Crosshair kept his attention trained on edging you a third time. Hunter was right- this time, you were able to concentrate on sucking Hunter off, so you had something to focus your attention on instead of just the sensation from the wand between your legs. Hunter pulled out a bit before pushing back in, content with fucking your mouth nice and slow for the moment. 

As you approached your orgasm a third time, Crosshair sped the motions with the wand, forcing you to choke on Hunter, who only fucked your throat faster in response. As you held your orgasm off the best you could, he pushed into you as far as he could and spilled his cum down your throat. Finally, Crosshair relented, pulling the toy away as Hunter pulled out of your mouth. 

“Color?” Hunter checked. 

“Red. I need some water,” you admitted. Crosshair got off the bed and grabbed one of the water bottles as Hunter climbed off of you and whispered, “You did so, so well, mesh’la. I’m so proud of you, and you should be proud of yourself, too,” he whispered, leaning in to kiss you. 

Crosshair brought the water over and you opened your mouth for him to pour some water into. You drank deeply, not realizing how thirsty you actually were. 

“How're you feeling now? What’re you thinking?” Hunter questioned. You took a minute to respond before admitting, “I don’t think I can take any more edges.” You looked over at Crosshair before continuing, “I’m sorry, I wish I could do more.”

“Maybe another night,” Crosshair conceded. “You know your limits, and I won’t cross a boundary. Time to move on?” You nodded in response. Hunter kissed your forehead and added, “You’re doing so well. Your body can only take so much, and you were good for communicating your needs to us. You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“And can we take the cuffs off? My shoulders are starting to hurt,” you clarified. 

“Of course,” Crosshair affirmed, unlocking the cuffs and bringing your arms down slowly so as to not cause any more pain. Hunter massaged your shoulders, alleviating some of the pain that had built up there. You leaned into his touch, enjoying the break in activity when Crosshair came back over to the bed, buttplug in hand. “Think you’re up for this?”

You thought for a moment before responding, “Not tonight.”

“Look at you, setting boundaries. Such a good girl,” Hunter praised. “Is there something that we can do that you want to try? Another toy, a different position?”

“What does our filthy little cockslut want to try next?” Crosshair added, reaching over and tugging on your hair a bit. 

“I wanna come,” you begged. “I need to come so bad, please-”

“Shhh, we’ll take good care of you,” Hunter reassured, taking you in his arms. He sat back against the bed frame, pulling you with him and depositing you on his lap with your legs bracketed outside his own, legs spread wide so that Crosshair could see how wet and swollen your pussy was. 

“Wanna be a good girl and give Crosshair a show?” Hunter murmured in your ear. “Show him how pretty you look when you come on my fingers?”

“Yes sir,” you moaned, desperate to finally get your release. Normally, Hunter would take his time worshiping every inch of your body before even considering going down on you, but he knew how badly you needed to come. He brought his hand down to your aching pussy, circling around your clit a few times before massaging your entrance and slowly pushing a finger in. You gasped, grinding and clenching down on his finger. 

“Such a little whore, so desperate and aching just from one finger,” Crosshair chided, laser focused on where Hunter’s finger disappeared inside you. Hunter pushed a second finger in with the first and began curling them against your g-spot, making you see stars and squirm around in his lap. He wrapped his other arm around your waist, holding you close to him, whispering, “You’re doing so well, letting me finger you like this. Let’s get you that orgasm, yeah?”

All you could do was nod as you felt yourself hurtling forward, getting closer and closer to finishing. Hunter dipped his head down to suck a hickey into your neck as he kept fingering you, feeling you get closer and closer to your orgasm. 

As you felt yourself reaching your peak, you tried to let them know that you were about to come, but given that the only noises you could make were senseless babbles, they figured it out pretty quickly. Once you hit your peak, you felt your entire body clench, losing all control and surrendering to the all-consuming pleasure Hunter was giving you. It felt as if every nerve ending in your body had been set alight, blazing from head to toe, and you could do nothing but take it all in. The whole time, you could vaguely make out Hunter whispering in your ear “that’s it,” “good girl,” “you look so sexy coming all over my fucking fingers.”

Eventually, you came down from your high, trying to regulate your breathing. Crosshair leaned in and captured your lips in a surprisingly gentle kiss before pulling away, looking into your eyes, and muttered, “slut” before giving you a quick kiss to the forehead. 

Once you’d fully regained control of your bodily functions, Crosshair asked, “Color?”

“Green,” you replied, eager to see what was next. 

“I think you’re finally ready for my cock, and I know your slutty pussy agrees with me,” he smirked. He looked to Hunter, who turned you around and put you on your hands and knees, ass in the air, just the way Crosshair likes it. Crosshair maneuvered himself behind you, taking in the view before giving your ass a couple good, hearty slaps that you knew would be visible come morning. Sliding the tip of his cock through your folds a few times, he eased himself into you slowly, giving your body time to adjust to him. He bottomed out for a moment before pulling out and thrusting back in again. Crosshair was known for being rough, and this was no exception. 

With every thrust, your body slid a little bit farther up the bed until your face was buried in the pillows. His grip on your hips was so strong you knew those would leave marks, too. Crosshair absolutely loved marking you up, especially in places most people wouldn’t get to see. As he pounded into you, he grabbed your hair and pulled you against his back, biting your throat and saying, “Little fucking cockslut, just waiting to be filled up and turned into a fucking cum dumpster.”

As Crosshair could feel your walls fluttering around him, he knew you were close, so he slid a hand down to your clit and rubbed precise circles over it. Before you could respond, your orgasm took you by surprise, walls clamping down over Crosshair’s cock. He kept pounding into you, chasing his own high, sending you into overstimulation. All you could do was cry out and claw at whatever parts of his body you could reach. As he reached his high, he pulled out and came on your ass, watching as your cheeks became adorned with white. 

Pulling away, Crosshair laid you back down onto the bed as Hunter approached. “Fuck, you looked so pretty coming all over his cock like that. You got one more in you?”

“Yes, please, let me come on your cock, too,” you begged. 

“Still so desperate to be filled, hmm? You want to be Hunter’s little cum dumpster?” Crosshair teased. 

“Yes, oh fuck yes,” you babbled. Hunter moved you so that you were on your back with your legs over his shoulders, cock poised at your entrance when he asked, “Color?”

“Green,” you breathed. Without another word, he pushed into you, filling you up. Sure, Crosshair was longer, but Hunter was certainly thicker, and you still needed a bit of time to adjust to his size. He leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead as if he wasn’t buried balls deep inside you, showing his soft side.

“Fuck, you always take my cock so well,” Hunter moaned as he started to fuck you. You could feel him stretching you out, the breath getting knocked out of you with every thrust. As you lay there being repeatedly impaled on his cock, Hunter couldn’t help but reach out and wrap a hand gently around your neck. Not hard enough to actually restrict airflow, but just enough pressure to assert dominance. You, on the other hand, wanted him to choke you, so you put your hand on top of his and pushed so he would know to add pressure. He groaned and exerted a bit more pressure on your neck, adding that much more pleasure to what you were already experiencing. 

For the final time that night, you reached your high, coming all over Hunter’s cock. You could tell he was getting close, too; his thrusts were harder and more erratic. Before long, you could feel his cum filling you up as he finished inside you. Stilling inside you, Hunter tilted his head and kissed one of your legs as you smiled up at him, pussy still twitching from your orgasm. He slowly pulled out of you, taking your legs and resting them back on the bed. Crosshair came over with a damp cloth to clean you up with, and Hunter grabbed some more water for you, knowing you’d be thirsty again. 

The two of them knew how to take care of you during sex, and they made sure to pamper you afterwards. Even though you didn’t dare say it out loud, you loved the both of them so much; however, what you didn’t know was that they felt the same about you. 

[delicatebarness]

winters widow | chapter viii

Summary: After Lord James' revelation, there isn't much more time before the wedding. However, someone in the realm has other plans for House Barnes' big day.

Warning: Arranged Marriage. Implied Sexual Assault and Violence. Disturbing Imagery. Emotional Distress. Mentions of Physical Restraint.

Word Count: 1836

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A/N: I'm back, adding more trauma into my character's lives. - Please feel free to leave feedback or let me know where and how you want the story to continue, this is just as much yours as mine. - B

Winter’s Widow: @lanabuckybarnes | @sapphirebarnes | @sebastians-love | @mrsnikstan | @learisa | @railmesebstan | @mishkatelwarriorgoddess | @barnesxstan | @ghalouha | @mrsstuckyboo | @g-nobody | @mishidrish

Everything: @hallecarey1 | @pattiemac1 | @uhmellamoanna | @scraftsku35 | @ozwriterchick | @sapphirebarnes | @rach2602 | @thetorturedbuckydepartment

With the recent revelation of Lord James’ true feelings, your hearts brimmed with a renewed sense of joy and anticipation as the wedding approached. Every waking moment was filled with preparations and each task was imbued with the excitement of the life you would lead as Lady Barnes. 

About a month and a half before the wedding, on one crisp morning, you found yourself mulling over the details of the wedding’s feast. You had been presented with several options from the kitchen staff for the menu, and you were particularly taken with a few dishes. Unable to come to a definite conclusion, you decided to seek Lord James’ opinion directly. 

With a basket of sample dishes in hand, you made your way to the council chambers. As you approached the large wooden doors, you hesitated briefly, hearing the low murmur of voices inside. With a deep breath, you pushed the doors open and stepped into the room. The eyes of the council members turned to you in surprise. 

“Pardon the interruption,” you began, a flush of heat spreading to your cheeks under their scrutinizing gazes. “I just need to speak to you, Lord James, about the feast menu.” 

Seated at the head of the table, Lord James raised an eyebrow in mild amusement. “My last, this is a rather… unexpected visit. What is it you need?” 

You pressed on, holding up the basket, unfazed by the curious, disapproving looks from the advisors. “The kitchen staff prepared some samples for the wedding feast, and I wanted to hear your opinion on them.” 

With a stern expression, an advisor cleared his throat. “My lady, we are in the middle of a crucial discussion regarding our defenses.” 

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed, the realization of what you walked into, and what you heard back in the stables a few weeks back, dawned on you. “I didn’t realize… I’ll wait outside.” 

Before you could retreat, Lord James spoke up. “It’s quite alright,” he said, indulgence and authority laced in his tone. “We could all use a brief respite. Bring the samples here.” 

The tension in the room eased slightly as you approached the table. Placing the basket in front of Lord James, you began to explain the dishes, excitement bubbling over. 

“This is a roast pheasant with a honey glaze,” you stated, pointing to the first dish as you read from a note. “And this is a spiced venison stew. Oh, I also thought a variety of fruit tarts would be nice for dessert. What do you think, my lord?” 

Lord James nodded appreciatively as he sampled the dishes thoughtfully. “They’re excellent choices, my lady. I believe our guest will be quite pleased.” 

The advisors, though initially taken aback by your interruption, seemed to relax as they watched the exchange between you and Lord James. A few even allowed themselves small smiles as you offered samples to them. 

However, one advisor, a grizzled man, sneered. “This is hardly the time for such nonsense. Women should know their place and stay out of men’s affairs.” 

The room fell silent, the air thick with tension. Lord James had been silently brooding at the head of the table, his eyes piercing when suddenly, he rose from his seat. How voice cold and unwavering. “Speak ill of my betrothed again, and you’ll learn just how fiercely I will defend what is mine.” All eyes were on Lord James as he continued, the room remaining still. “She is the future of Winter’s Reach and this House. She will have your respect.” 

The advisor blanched, realizing his mistake. “My lord, I meant no disrespect,” he stammered, bowing his head. 

For a moment longer, Lord James’ eyes remained fixed on the advisor before turning back to you, his expression softening. “Thank you for bringing these samples, my lady. Your input is always welcome.” 

A surge of happiness coursed through you with Lord James’ approval. “Thank you, my lord. I’ll let the kitchen staff know.” You began to leave but paused, glancing back at him. “And thank you for your patience. I didn’t mean to disrupt your council.” 

“Think nothing of it,” he replied, a warm smile tugged the corners of his mouth.

You couldn’t help but feel a sense of accomplishment as you exited the council chambers, the doors closing softly behind you. The preparations for the wedding were falling into place, and with Lord’s genuine affection now clear, the excitement for the future only grew. 

~

The weeks leading up to the wedding passed in a blur, Lord James had been showing a newfound tenderness, and your heart swelled with hope. The incident in the council room was long behind the two of you, but the respect Lord James had commanded in your defense remained a vivid reminder of his feelings. 

You found yourself drifting into a deep sleep, one particularly cold night, wrapped in the warmth of thick pelted blankers. Dreams of your wedding and the future, danced through your mind, filling you with a sense of peace and contentment. 

Suddenly, you were jolted awake by the sounds of distant screams and the acrid smell of smoke. Throwing the blankets and rushing to the window, panic gripped your heart. Flames licked at the night sky, chaos illuminated outside. As you tried to make sense of the scene unfolding below, your mind raced. The once peaceful courtyard of Winter’s Reach was now a battlefield of shadows and fire. 

Grabbing a clock, you hurried to the door without hesitation. However, just as you were about to pull it open, it swung inward– revealing a figure cloaked in darkness. Your heart pounded in your chest causing you to gasp and stumble back. 

“Who–” you began, but the words caught in your throat as the figure stepped into the light of your chamber. 

The figure, tall and menacing, his unfamiliar face twisted into a sinister smile. You could tell by the roughness of his attire and the cold gleam in his eyes that he was not a knight of Winter’s Reach.

“Well, well,” he said, malice dripping from his lips. “Look what we have here.” 

Before you could react, he lunged forward. He grabbed your arm with a vice-like grip and panic surged through you as he dragged you back into your chambers. The door slammed shut behind you.

“Let go of me!” you screamed, struggling against him, yet his grip only tightened. 

“Quiet,” he hissed, a cruel smirk played on his lips. “We wouldn’t want to cause a scene now, would we?” 

Your heart raced faster as you looked around desperately, trying to figure out an escape route. His presence was overwhelming, a suffocating sense of dread filling the room. 

“What do you want?” you demanded, you tried to keep your voice steady however your voice came out in a whisper. 

He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. “Just a little fun,” he whispered. “I didn’t think I’d come across a little doll like you tonight.” 

His words sent a chill down your spine. The realization of his implication fueled your determination to fight back.

You twisted in his grip, a burst of adrenaline helped you to free one arm. But, before you could do anything more, he threw you onto your bed with brutal force. The break knocked out of you on impact, and before you could recover, he was on top of you, pinning you down. 

You screamed in refusal, trying to push him off, but he was too strong. He tore at your nightgown, the sound of ripping fabric under his hands filled your ears. You fought with everything you had, you scratched and clawed at him, but it was no use– he pressed his weight down on you, suffocating and overpowering. 

“Firey one, aren’t you?” he sneered with his face inches from yours. A foul smell came from his breath and a wave of terror coursed through you from the look in his eyes. 

Your desperate struggles grew weaker under his oppressive weight and the night continued to unfold in a blur of terror and helplessness. The chaos outside became a distant echo as the events within your chambers consumed you.

~

The battle had been fierce, but now that it was over Lord James hurried through the smoke hallways of Winter’s Reach. His heart pounded with worry and fear, his thoughts consumed with finding you. As he neared your quarters, he quickened his steps, dread clawing at his chest. 

He noticed something amiss as he approached– the door to your chambers was slightly ajar. Panic surged through his body as he called out your name, pushing the door open. He received no response. 

The sight that greeted him froze him in his tracks. 

Sat on the floor, in the corner of the room, there you were. Your nightgown was torn, barely covering you. Your hands clasped together, muffled words leaving your lips– eyes distant, lost in a world of your own making.

Lord James’ heart shattered into thousands of icy shards as his eyes swept the room. His gaze locked onto the disheveled bed, its pristine white sheets now marred by a stark, crimson stain. The sight seemed to freeze time around him, every small detail etching itself into his mind with painful clarity. Your room, once your sanctuary, now bore the scares of unspeakable violence. 

“Gods, no,” Lord James whispered urgently, rushing to your side. Dropping to his knees beside you, his hand reaching out to touch your trembling shoulder. “It’s me, I’m here. You’re safe now, my love.” 

You recoiled in terror as he tried to embrace you, pushing him away with unexpected strength. Your body shook as you cried uncontrollably. Lord James felt his heart breaking at the sigh of your fear.

“No! Get away from me!” you cried, your voice raw with panic. “Don’t touch me!” 

The agony in Lord James’ eyes matched yours as he froze. Yet, despite your resistance, he refused to leave you alone in this moment of despair. He tried again, gently, his voice steady and soothing. 

“It’s okay, my love. It’s me, it's James,” he repeated softly, moving closer. “I’m here. You’re safe now. I promise.” 

Your sobs continued, you struggled to comprehend what had happened as your body trembled. Slowly, cautiously he reached out to wrap his arms around you, pulling you into a gentle embrace.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” he murmured against your hair, his voice thick as tears spilled over his cheeks. “I should have been here to protect you. I swear to you, I will find whoever did this. They will pay for what they’ve done.” 

Tears soaked his chest as you clung desperately to him. He held you tighter, murmuring comforting and reassuring words as he rocked you gently. Your resistance softened gradually and you began to lean into his embrace, seeking solace in his arms. 

Together, in the silence of your chambers, Lord James vowed to stand by you, protect you, and help you heal.

---

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[girlystories]

L'appel du vide (The call of the void)

— pairings: Henry Bowers + Patrick Hockstetter x female/daughter of a cop/new student reader

Summary: after your parents divorce (because your mom is kinda crazy) you move to your dads hometown, back to Derry, and your cousin richie. Additional warnings: refrences of past child abuse Words: 4.1k

next chapter here

Chapter 1: Back to Derry

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐑 slowed down as it stopped at a gas station. The driver's door opened, which caused [Name] to wake up. She raised her head, which was earlier rested on her palm. She blinked her eyes, trying to make out what her father was saying to her. 

"I said, do you want me to get you anything?", he repeated, his hand on the door as he slouched and his head under the car, waiting for her answer. 

"Uh," she slurred her words, yawning as she stretched her arms, a satisfying feeling passing through her body to wake her up while the sun was making it difficult for her to think of what to say. "Just some water please."

Her father gave her a thumbsup before turning around. 

"On second thought, I'm kinda hungry. Can I have a sandwich?", she called out from the rolled down window. 

Her father made his way inside, as [Name] shifted in her seat, her arms laying comfortable under her head. She sighed as she stared out the window, not focusing on anything in particular, yet caughting a glimpse of a man filling his car. 

She and her father we're making their way to Derry, Maine, back to their relatives. Despite feeling excited to see her cousin again, she didn't really approve on moving so suddenly. She would miss her friends, her school – heck, even the grumpy teachers and lousy neighbours. 

There was no way of changing her dad's mind, however, since he was so eager to start a new life. She couldn't blame him, though. She and the poor guy couldn't handle the decrease in her mother's sanity any longer. She only grew worse day by day, and it was final once she laid hands on her. Her eyes were unrecognizable, wide and furiously red, as she had her fingers wrapped around [Name]'s throat, squeezing it tight with demise. 

Luckily, she was shoved back and restrained by her father, who later called the police on her and she was taken into court when found out she was abusing drugs, finally filling a divorce and in the end she was send to an asylum. 

This made [Name] wonder if that woman even loved her in the first place. As she thought about it more overtime, she recalled the times her mother gave her the cold shoulder, or the nasty remarks she hissed – tasting like venom on her tensed dry lips. The glaring looks she gave her, feeling like piercing needles ready to strike. 

[Name] instantly wiped some tears that were forming on her eyes, placing a smile on her face as her dad made his way back, bringing with him the stuff he bought. 

He closed the door as he sat on the driver's seat, holding the bag for [Name] to take. "As you ordered, madam. Sandwich and a bottle of water," he teased. 

She chuckled. "Oh, why thank you, kind sir," she said before taking a big bite of the chicken sandwich. "Man, I'm so hungry."

"Well, you should've prepared some food from home for the ride," he said, taking a cigarette out of his new pack, placing it on his lips, and turning the engine back on – which roared back alive, going backwards and on the road back to Derry. "I told you in the morning but you ignored me." 

She rolled her eyes, not in the mood for bickering at the moment, instead changing the question. "So like, you gonna be working as a cop at Derry now?" 

"Policeman, not a cop, [Name]. And yes, I've taken care of it on the phone," his eyes were focused on the road, taking a turn. "A guy of mine was kind enough to brag about my services back home."

[Name] hummed, not particularly interested in listening to the conversation, instead taking a moment to appreciate her hunger decreasing, savoring the chicken in contrast with the sauce and the variety of spices. 

She looked out the window, trees passing as they were now driving through the dirt road. The wind blew through her hair, a breeze filling the car. 

Her father remained silent for a moment and he sighed. "Listen, sweetheart, I know it's hard for you moving away and all but I'm sure you'll have a great time there and settle down nicely," he smiled as he recalled memories of his hometown. "Besides, you'll catch up with little Richie again." 

"Well, I'm sure he's not little anymore. How many years has it been? Like five, six?", she tried to count, licking her fingers in doing so. "How old is that little prick now anyway?"

"[Name], watch your language please," her father said and she giggled in response. "I think he's about thirteen or twelve. Three years younger than you." 

"I'm sixteen, dad." 

"Thirteen then." 

"Oh my god, dad. Did you really not remember the age of your own daughter?" 

He lifted his fingers holding the lighted cigarette off the wheel in defense. "No, I didn't forget your age, honey. I'm just, really tired at the moment." 

She shook her head in disbelief. "Yeah, right."

"I mean it." 

"Whatever you say can't save you now, dad." 

He chuckled. "Really now?"

"Yes," she replied blankly, now finishing her sandwich. 

   Finally arriving, she took out one of her earplugs and pausing her music, raised her head to look around her new "home". Crippled narrow roads filled with puddles, with short trees that looked hardly standing by the constant floods and hurricanes. She almost cringed at the almost rundown looking buildings. 

What eased her nerves were the stores here and there, them being: Brew & Chew Café, Doughy Delights Pizzeria, and Smile N’ Delight. Her eyes also caught a glimpse of the arcade, and she was sure Richie would probably spend his time there, playing aimlessly like his life depended on it. Not like she planned on going there, but still. It proved the existence that people lived there and it wasn't as deserted as it seemed. 

"Are we there?" 

"Sure are," he answered, searching for his sisters house. He smiled, "nothing has changed a bit."

"We haven't been gone that much for anything to change. I mean who even comes here anymore?"

Her father ignored her remark, taking a turn and slowing down as they reached that all familiar house [Name] hang out to when she was younger. They came to a stop and he got out of the car, while [Name] did the same, yet not so eager. 

"Wentworth! How long has it been?", her father said as the front door opened, her uncle grabbing his palm and patting him on the back. 

"You tell me," her uncle replied. "You were the one who decided to move out." 

He chuckled. "Well, [Mother Name] wouldn't stop pressuring me and all. You know how she was." 

This made [Name]'s aunt's smile fade, feeling somehow remorseful. "Ah, I'm so sorry about that, [Father Name]... We couldn't believe it when you told us all about it on the phone," her eyes looked at [Name], making her smile widely, her eyes wrinkling at the sides as they widened. She exclaimed and she walked over to her with raised arms, squeezing her cheeks which made [Name] groan slightly. Yet she didn't mind it much, always appreciating her aunt's weird ways of affection. 

"Little [Name]! Ah, I can't believe how much you've grown. You're basically a lady now!", she noted, placing her palms on her shoulders and taking a better look at her, taking her time to "fix" her shirt and hair. 

[Name] chuckled awkwardly, not knowing how to respond. "Hey, missed you too, Aunt Maggie. Uh, is Richie home?" 

"Oh, yes," she turned around, "Richie, get your ass here!"

After a few annoyed grumbles, a boy with dark hair came down the stairs. [Name] noted his increase in height and glasses who seemed to be thicker than how she remembered, making his eyes appear way bigger. He still had a couple of freckles drawn on his slighty chubby cheeks – even though he had a relatively slim figure. She threw an arm over his shoulder, snickering at his annoyance and trying to get off her hold.

"How's my little blabbermouth been?", she remarked and forced him into a hug. He groaned in response, mostly by the nickname but returning the hug happily. 

"You haven't changed a bit, asswipe," he replied with the same tone. Still, his grip tightened around her. "You were still missed, though. As much as I hate to admit it." 

That made her smile, and she let go of him, "Aw," she cooed. "I'm flattered, but it's very much expected," she replied proudly. 

"Ha ha," Richie stated, his tone linked full of sarcasm. "Just make sure you stay this time," he scoffed, "I remember when you had to leave last time you were crying your eyes out. Your nose was full of snot and stuff. Gross." 

[Name] narrowed her eyes, raising her brow. "That's not true. I don't ever recall that happening."

"Well, I do," he rolled his wide eyes behind his thick square glasses, smirking. "Right, mom?" 

"Huh? What did you say, sweetie?", she asked, not listening to him in the slightest, too absorbed in the conversation with her husband and brother. 

"Nevermind," Richie rumbled. "Say, you wanna join me and my friends? Oh – I forgot to mention – remember Bill? Well, we are now in a group with two other guys and we call ourselves The Losers Club, and it's freaking awesome!" 

[Name] couldn't help but laugh. "The Losers Club? That sounds... pretty lame." 

"That's the point, genius," he rolled his eyes again. "The thing is, you gotta join us, we always have so much fun and stuff." 

"Maybe another time, kiddo. I'm pretty tired and I gotta start unpacking and I need get ready for school tomorrow. I've missed enough as it is."

Richie groaned. "Fineee. But you will come with us one day, I'm telling you." 

[Name] ruffled his hair. "Okay okay, I get it!" 

"Augh! Not the hair, man! Not cool", he tried to push her hand away, but to no avail as she wrapped an arm around his neck and continued in forcefully ruining his curly locks. 

 

   The next day [Name] was woken up but her father, completely ignoring her alarm clock at 6:30 am. She groaned and placed a pillow over her head, trying to block out her father's cheery but annoying voice through the kitchen. 

She had to get up, though, when her father made his way into her bedroom and forcefully throwing the covers off her – much to her dismay. She raised her upper body, holding her weight with her elbows. Her eyes were puffy and red, a trail of drool beginning from her bottom lip and ending at her chin. A sight Richie would definitely make fun of, but he was in the same spot, as her dad did the same, but instead chose to grab Richie and spin him around, just like the way parents played with their month-old babies. 

Richie – fully confused, and instead of cheering like a baby would – almost shrieked, his legs swaying back and forth, looking for a sturdy ground to balance himself and his arms trying to get a tight grip on his uncle. Without wearing his glasses, he wasn't able to see clearly, screaming: "What the hell is going on?!" 

[Name]'s dad, not reducing his speed in the slightest, continued, "Wake up, big guy! You're gonna miss school!" 

Richie, steadying his breath, replied, "Okay okay, I get it! Just get me down! For the love of—" 

Just as he requested, his uncle complied, a satisfied smile on his features. He slapped his nephew's back lightly. "Come to the kitchen quick. I've prepared breakfast." 

[Name] still in her bed – but not daring to lay back down, (in fear of her dad shaking her awake again) stared blankly at the wall, ignoring the commotion from Richie's room completely. She rubbed her half closed eyes, and dragged herself out of bed, choosing a simple and convenient outfit for the day, since her stuff and wardrobe hadn't been delivered in their new home fully yet. She grabbed her almost empty backpack, which contained only her pencil case and a couple of notebooks, and she slowly made her way to the kitchen, dropping on her seat feeling like a zombie. She tried to rest her heavy head on her palm, yet it fell on the table sharply. 

"Ah ah," her father scolded. "Wake up, sweetie. It's your first day today." 

She groaned in response. 

"I'll give you a ride to school, so eat quick. I have work to get to," he explained further, flipping an egg from the pan. 

"I'm sorry but how can you be so excited so early in the morning, uncle? I mean, no offense," Richie asked from the table, rubbing his glasses with his shirt. He turned to [Name], "is he always like this?" 

She grabbed a toast from the table, which was applied with butter smoothly, and took a bite, her eyes still half closed. "Yes."

"Damn."

   After a quick – and not so satisfying breakfast, Mr. [Last Name] gave the both a ride and went to work. For the first time Richie wasn't late. A rare occurance, mainly because he took ages to get ready but also because both his parents weren't able to drive him to school because of work. 

"Well, I guess I'll see you later, asswipe," Richie held up his palm for a high-five. [Name] looked at him unfazed, almost rolling her eyes, clearly not in the mood so early in the morning. Still, she didn't leave him hanging and groaned under her breath. 

"Remember, don't steal food from the cafeteria."

"Don't you mean, don't do drugs – or something?" 

[Name] walked pass him, pushing her body on the school's front entrance. "Whate—", before she could finish, she felt a heavy force colliding against her. She yelped in response, being shoved backwards.

The person groaned in annoyance, also surprised by the sudden force. "What the fu—", the voice suddenly paused. [Name] took a moment to study the person. He was tall, his blonde hair messily styled in a mullet. His blue eyes were staring back at her, also studying her. His seemengly muscular built wasn't as apparent under his t-shirt which was being covered under his denim jacket, his sleeves being pushed high above his elbows. It was more of a fashion choice than an affect to keep warm in the cold weather of October. 

She didn't know how long they kept eye contact, but it came to a stop as his features furrowed, pursing his lips. He shoved pass her, his shoulder bumping into hers while he mumbled under his breath: "Get outta my way." 

She scoffed in response, raising a brow and walking into the halls, Richie following quickly behind her. "Oh my god," he gasped. 

"What?", she questioned, looking around for the principal's office. 

"You just ran into Henry Bowers!", he explained. 

"I didn't ran into him. More like he bumped into me." 

He quickly shook his head. "That's not the point, dumbass," he walked in front of her, making her stop in her tracks to get her attention. "The point is that he and his lovely little friends have been making our lives hell for how many years now. I'm honestly surprised he didn't murder you just now."

"He what?", [Name] asked, her eyes finally widening since this morning. 

"Yeah," Richie said, beginning to walk again with her by his side, passing the other students in the halls as they chatted among themselves. "They're all complete psychos."

"How did you say his name was? Henry Bowers, was it?", she asked and slowed down when she noticed the principal's office in the corner. "Where have I heard of it before?" 

"Man, I don't know. But I'm telling you. Just don't make him mad. Ever." 

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it, big guy," she said, shifting her backpack as the school bell rang. She made herself a new goal for the year. 

Richie raised a brow. "What do you mean? I don't like that look," he noted. 

"Just, go to class, okay? I'll see you guys later," she shoved him softly, and he stumbled a bit, glancing back at her with a bit of worry, but made his way to class. 

She didn't know how and why that guy seemed so familiar to her, but she didn't care either. No one is allowed to make fun of her cousin. No one. Except maybe her, but they were family. It's understandable. But him? Who did he think he is? 

She decided to keep an eye on him and his stupid mullet. 

[Name] was about to knock the open door but stopped when she saw a lanky guy staring at the principal blankly, his mind wandering off and not paying the slightest attention to him. The principal sighed, his hand waved towards the door, dismissing him as he finished, "that's about it. If you and Bowers get send here one more time, I'll have to take drasting measures. You'll get a pass this time. Mainly because it's your first time, Hockstetter. Now get your ass to class." 

The guy in question – Hockstetter, as he was mentioned – fixed his posture at the statement, the corners of his mouth forming into a smile. He left without question, his grey-green eyes meeting [Name]'s as he walked pass the door, twinkling with curiosity. She swore she saw him lick his bottom lip just as he left. 

"And make sure Bowers actually goes to class this time!", the principal shouted and [Name] wondered if his orders even reached the guy's ears. 

So this guy is one Richie's bullies, [Name] noted. 

She decided to keep that in mind later as she walked inside. The principal held the bridge of his nose, sighing. When he noticed her, he grasped his hands together as he tried to recall her name. He remained with only parted lips as he failed in figuring out who she was. 

"Hello, Mr – uh," she trailed off, trying to remember his name that her dad mentioned on the ride. "Mr. Corbin, I'm the new student. I think my father spoke to you on the phone." 

His features softened, bringing a hand on his grey and combed hair. "Ah, yes! Mr. [Last Name], I believe. Yes, I've got your schedule prepared right here," he said, rolling back with his chair and opening his drawer, taking out a paper and handing it to [Name]. "It was pretty much a hassle trying to sort your lessons, since you arrived a bit later, but eventually we managed."

She whispered a soft "Sorry" in response. 

"How very nice for us to welcome a new student. I hope you like it here. Ah, did you move here recently, miss [Last Name]?" 

She quickly skimmed over her schedule, and looked back at Mr. Corbin. "Yes. Yesterday actually."

"I see," he replied, fixing his mustache. "Well, I hope you settle down nicely. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some work to finish," he rolled on his chair forward, placing his hands together once again. "If you need any help, don't be afraid to come to my office."

[Name] smiled at him. "Thank you so much, Mr. Corbin," she said and walked out, looking over her schedule. She hummed, feeling not so glum about it, only groaning when she saw she had to chose an extracurricular, but also hoping there were good options to chose from at the very least. She noticed a note, written roughly with a pen; locker: 74. 

She made her own inner note to check it out later. 

Now, she hurried herself to her first period, being World History. It took her while to find the class, and she was sure she'd get some nagging from the teacher. She hesitantly knocked on the door and slowly opened it. Peeking over the gap, she noticed all the students attention being on her. She stepped inside, clearing her throat. 

"Sorry I'm late, Mr –", she looked at her schedule, "Mr. Okley." 

Mr. Okley stopped writing on the board, turning his focus on her. "It's okay, I suppose," his voice indicated his boredom which were proved by his uninterested expression. "You're the new student, yes?"

She nodded. "Yes, my name is [Name] [Last Name]."

His face brightened, his blank expression being replaced by a small smile. "Ah, [Last Name]? I know your father. We used to be classmates together. Really funny fellow, I tell you," he chuckled. "Make sure to tell him I say hi, alright?" 

[Name] smiled, trying to ignore people's stares. "I will."

"We're on page forty-three. You can take a seat over there," he pointed at an empty seat next to the window. 

"I don't have a book."

"Right," he hummed, looking around his desk for a spare book. "I can't seem to find one right now. Just sit next to Victor for now and come by my office later."

The guy in question raised his head from his palm, being shaken out of his thoughts. [Name] dragged a chair and sat next to him, who scooted to the side to make some some space for the both. 

She held her hands close, feeling awkward by the closeness between them. But she tried her best to ignore it, taking notes when she thought was necessary. 

As she wrote, her pall pen started leaving less and less ink. She pressed harder, but the pen refused to work, as if it suddenly decided to go against her. 

"Shit," she cursed under her breath. She turned to Victor, who had his undoubted attention on Mr. Okley who explained about the Rise of Rome. 

"Do you have an extra pen?"

His attention was disturbed again. He shifted in his seat, blinking like he was just woken up. "Oh, yeah," he searched his bag and held one for her. 

"Thanks," she took it, smiling warmly at him. 

"So, why the sudden change or schools?", he asked. 

"Oh, you know. The usual reasons," she wrote on her notebook, testing if it worked. It was an obvious attempt of her deflecting the question. 

Victor didn't attemt to pressure her in saying anymore, turning his attention back at the lesson. 

The bell rang indicating the end of the lesson. All the students gathered their things, chatting among themselves as they made their way outside. 

Just as [Name] was about to do the same Mr. Okley called her. 

"Wait here for a moment, I'll go and fetch your book, alright?"

With that she waited, watching the classroom becoming less and less crowded. Her mind started wondering along, when she was being shoved forward. Her shoulder bumping with an all too familiar muscular one, snickering as he made his way towards Victor. Two others followed, passing her like she was nonexistent. 

Her face soured. 

Henry and Hockstetter loud vocals filled the room, shooting at Victor about who knows what. [Name] was unable to identify the other figure. He was the most noticeable large one of the group. 

With the realization that Victor was in their little group, it made the girl's disappointment more visible. 

Mr. Okley came back, holding a thick book. "This is it," he opened it, flipping through the pages. "We've covered all of these. Make sure to study them until next week. We'll be having an exam on Monday."

She scrunched her nose, which didn't go unnoticed. 

"Now now, it's not too much," he chuckled at her reaction. "It has very vague information and it's pretty easy to grasp. I'm sure you can do it."

She wasn't convinced and he continued. "If it's too much for you, then I'll guess I could give you an extra week."

"Really?"

He winked. "Just don't tell anyone," he waved his hands. "Now, run along!"

She chuckled and scooted over the door, but stopped when she remembered something. She glanced over at her classmate by the window, being surrounded by the mullet asshole and the creepy lanky guy – and the guy she couldn't recognize. He was frowning at his friends, telling them to "shut up" while they joked around. 

She sighed under her breath and turned her heel, walking over to him. She looked to the ground, avoiding their gazes as she came closer. 

"You, uh, forgot your pen," she held it out for him, only locking eyes with his as he stopped his bickering. Their laughs also came to a stop, observing her from head to toe. 

He took it, and before he could answer she swung around, storming out of the classroom. Her chest was bounding and her breath was shaky. 

She meet the Bower Gang on her first day and managed to survive.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Detour 6

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor

Summary: You find yourself stranded in a small village.

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You refuse to spend your vacation pent up, especially in this place. You put on your most walkable shoes, felt boots with a low heel, and clothes suitable for walking. Cigarette pants and a sleeveless turtleneck. You grab your purse and call down to the front desk to request a taxi.

As you come down to the lobby, you see the preparations for the ridiculous event in full tilt. Ugh. This place is backwards. How can a grown man plan a part akin to that of one half his age. If you were to guess, that cretin is like pushing forty, and that’s being generous.

You roll your eyes and strut down the steps. You tap your heel at the bottom as you wait, hip pushed out with one leg at an angle. Finally, a minivan rolls up and the driver reaches over to the crank down the window.

“You call for a cab?” The man asks.

“Yes, sir,” you hesitate, thinking he might have the decency to open the door for you. When he remains as he is, you do it yourself, sliding open the back and climbing inside. 

“Where are we going, miss?” He prompts as you roll the door shut.

“Hm, I saw in the hotel itinerary there is a bakery in town. They have coffee?”

“Sure do, all those fancy foams and flavours,” he chirps as he shifts into gear, “didn’t know anyone was visiting town.”

“A brief detour,” you assure him and turn your gaze out the window.

“Ah, well, you can call me Paulie. I’m the only taxi in the village.”

You don’t offer your name in return. You aren’t paying for conversation. He’s a driver, not a therapist. You sit in the buzz of the radio, the outdated tunes static as the signal wanes and waxes.

“Just up here,” he announces as he comes to flat ground, steering between the only dense line of buildings, “one with the red sign.”

“Sir,” you pull out a bill and adequate tip for his trouble.

“You have a good one, ma’am. If ya need a ride back, you just call,” he calls after you.

You step out and shove the door closed, quickly marching onto the pavement. You peer up at the bakery, eyeing the facade. It isn’t as nice as your preferred cafe but there are no alternatives. How can people live like this? Is variety not the spice of life?

You’re aware of the looks you get from the village elders on the street. You ignore their sideways glances and enter the bakery. You approach the counter as you browse the menu, chin set. You are dying for a latte.

“Hello, I’d like an oat latte, half pump of vanilla, a quarter teaspoon of cinnamon, and a touch of honey,” you outline your typical order.

“Uh, okay, that was a latte–”

“Oat latte,” you correct, “latte with oat milk…” the girl behind the counter squints and keys in the order, “with cinnamon–”

“Half a teaspoon, don’t cake it on,” you demand.

“Um, alright,” she stops and rips off a piece of blank receipt paper, making a note on it.

“With honey,” you enunciate clearly.

“Honey,” she mumbles as she writes, “anything else, ma’am?”

You sniff and lean back on your heel, looking up and down the display case, “are any of these vegan?”

“Sorry, I don’t think so.”

“Gluten free?” 

“No, I don’t–”

“I might do with the raspberry white chocolate scone,” you step back up to the counter.

“Sure,” she taps the buttons and reads out your total. You pay with your card and cross your arms as you strut to wait at the other end of the counter.

You look around dully. There’s a man sitting by the window. He has frosting on his fingertips as he picks at a cinnamon bun. He gives a goofy grin and wipes his hand on a napkin, several others sticking to him as he tries to tidy himself up. You shake your head and return your attention to the counter.

Your scone is served first on a small plate. It takes some time for the latte. You taste it and suck your teeth. You look at the employee as she watches you nervously. Even if you tell her she added too much cinnamon, you doubt she’ll get it right on a second try. Like everything around here, you’ll settle for it.

You take your order and sit in the corner. You slide out your phone. No bars. This wretched place threatens to bore you to tears. 

A chair scrapes and a throat clears. You narrow your eyes in the messy man’s direction as he approaches you. He’s tall with sandy brownish blond hair and a trim of overgrown stubble along his jaw and cheeks. He wears plaid under a tan vest with too many pockets. Backwoods chic, how gauche.

“Uh, hey, you new in town?”

“Passing through,” you utter tersely.

“Really? You staying up at the B&B? Odinsons are good people.” He nervously plays with the zipper on his vest, “I’m Cole–”

“I don’t want to know your name. The moment I’m free of this place, I hope to forget everything about it,” you spit.

He blanches, “uh, sorry, miss–”

“You will be if you keep bothering me.”

“I was just being friendly,” he begins.

“Let me tell you something, I run circles around friendly men like you. In fact, men like you, beg me to step on them,” you sneer hotly. “And trust me, you can’t handle me, so go on and finish your snack, little boy.”

He stutters and looks around. He nods and backs off, a dumb look on his face. He turns and walks stiffly back to his table. He stares ahead and slowly drops his head into his hands. You scoff.

Does every man in this forsaken place store their brains below their belt? You pick at the scone as your eyes drift over to the barista. She watches the man with a worried look then glances at you and winces, quickly hiding behind the display case.

You turn and peer out the window. This must be purgatory. It is possible you crashed your car and now must wait out your eternity in this hellscape.

[brandyllyn]

Silk from their soul (21)

The Ghoul / Cooper Howard x f!reader [no use of y/n]

Rated: T Words: 2k Summary: Walking after midnight

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

The three men are Travis, Javier, and Bossman. You knew that wasn’t his actual name but so far no one had called him anything different. He was the one that the Cowboyhad seemed to know. The youngest, Travis, was guarding you and you made a point of being overly solicitous. Giving him wide smiles and thanking him when he helped you tend to business.

The Cowboy hated it.

Every time you batted your eyelashes at the boy, or touched him on the arm, you could see a vein start to throb on the Cowboy’s forehead. It gave you the tiniest bit of satisfaction to see it. 

They were letting him walk free, for the moment, but you caught the glances Javier and Bossman kept throwing him. It had been a split second decision, saving his life. Or maybe you had just been saving yours. Could you both have survived a shootout? Maybe. But you weren’t ready to risk that just yet.

You wait til Travis is next to you and purposefully trip, grabbing for his arm as you fall in slow motion. The boy is there immediately and you let your fingers rub across the inside of his wrist as you part your lips and gasp up at him.

“Oh my, thank you so much.”

The Cowboy snorts. You ignore it.

Travis is staring at you like he’s never seen a woman before. Good, you can work with that.

“I’m so sorry, my feet are really hurting. Is there any way we could stop for a bit? Let me rest?” You twist as you ask the question, turning his hand so the back of it brushes across your breast.

Was that a growl?

“Yeah, yeah we can do that,” Travis tells you with a blank gaze. You should probably feel bad about what you’re doing but it wasn’t your fault the kid had a weak mind. He yells at the other two that you’re taking a break and after some brief bickering between the men you lower yourself next to a rusted out car and primly fold your feet under you.

“If don’t suppose you gentleman brought any food?” you ask, purposefully hiding the slightly hopeful lilt to your voice. 

“Beans,” Javier grunts, pulling a dented can from his pack. “Ain’t nothing fancy.”

“Oh!” You brighten and sit up straighter, purposefully pushing your breasts towards him. “He has my pack with my spices in it - I’m sure I could make us all something lovely.”

“What kind of spices?” Bossman asks skeptically and you hide your grin.

There were two ways to a man’s heart…

They have to cut your wrists free so you can cook and you make a point of laying a thankful hand on Javier’s arm as he does so. He blinks at you a moment before turning away and you hum a tune as you start a small fire and hang a pot over it.

“Never cooked a damn thing for me,” the Cowboy grunts from nearby.

“Maybe I don’t like you as much,” you tell him brightly, winking at Bossman. He seems startled but grins at you in return.

Yeah, someone is definitely growling. You have a pretty good idea who.

You keep them all engaged in idle chatter as you add a variety of things to the beans, including some meat from the Cowboy’s pack. His lips twitch as you do so and you try not to think too hard about what it might be.

What they don’t know won’t hurt them.

When you finish you have a passable recreation of a comfort dish from long before the great war and you offer heaping spoonfuls to the men.

“Strong men like you need a good portion,” you tell Javier, adding an extra scoop.

“I’d hate to see you go hungry,” you tell Bossman, letting your lips part and trying to look concerned.

“Bullshit.”

The word is barely audible and you give the Cowboy a quick glare before turning your attention to Travis. “Is there anything else I can do?”

You were, in short, the perfect hostess. Part and parcel of being the perfect wife. The perfect partner. The perfect everything.

The pheromones you’re giving off in droves probably help too. 

It takes a little concentration to do it, to turn on the charm that makes people’s jaws go slack and eyes cross. You have to focus on being soft, giving, keep your emotions in check. 

The Cowboy is not helping.

“You gonna serve me up a bit of that slop?”

Your smile becomes strained and you blink at him for a moment before replying. “Sure! Got a bowl?”

He holds out a beaten up cup and you give him about half what you’d given everyone else. His forehead moves, raising a non-existent eyebrow, and your lips press together as you dare him to say something.

“Thank you kindly.”

You don’t hit him with the spoon. That would give the game away.

Instead you take your meal and settle down between Bossman and Javier, close enough your knees touch theirs. The Cowboy watches you thoughtfully and you do your best to ignore him.

“I didn’t realize how hard it would be to be out here on my own,” you say after a few minutes pass. “Everything is so dangerous.”

Travis nods at you, eyes wide, while Bossman scoffs. “Takes someone hard as nails to survive out here.”

The Cowboy snorts and you quickly cough to cover it up. “I just thought I’d see the world a little bit, you know? But I think… I mean, I’m really grateful you all found me.”

“We’re here to help,” Javier says with about half as much sarcasm as you might have expected.

“Ain’t we just,” the Cowboy chimes in and you meet his eyes. 

Shut the fuck up, you try to tell him with your mind.

What the fuck are you doing? He seems to beam back.

With an overly dramatic yawn you stretch your arms out, taking a deep inhale and purposefully not noticing how the assembled company stare at your chest. “I suppose we should continue on? I’m so tired…”

The men exchange a glance while the Cowboy continues to give you an incredulous look. Bossman is who speaks up.

“Reckon we can spend the night here as good as any, sun’s about to set soon anyway.”

“Oh really?” You reach over and put a hand on his knee, concentrating all your energy on him. “That would be lovely.”

He looks a bit starstruck and you pull your pack close to you, futzing with it a moment before laying down and using it as a pillow. You keep up your internal monologue - soft, gentle, caring - while you fake falling asleep.

After a few moments you hear the Cowboy cough, and then the sound of his inhaler.

“You got enough of that shit, ghoul?”

“I won’t be eating any of you fellas in the night if that’s what you’re asking.”

A silence and then, “Well, I’d feel safer if you were tied up.”

“I bet you would.”

There’s a slight scuffle of feet, not a fight, just two people trying to move quickly, and you peek out to see two of them tying the Cowboy to an old phone pole.

“Ain’t nothing personal,” Bossman tells him and the Cowboy shrugs.

“I’ll try not to take it that way.”

You pretend to sleep on, not a single restraint on you.

It takes four hours before you’re ready to implement phase two of your plan. It’s well past dark and the snores next to you are loud enough to wake the dead. If you’re right, Travis is on watch.

He doesn’t have a chance.

You stretch with your back to him, rubbing at your eyes and feigning sleepiness. When you spot him you give a ‘surprised’ smile and move his direction with your pack. Setting it nearby you use it as a rest as you sit down.

“Got the short straw, huh?”

Travis nods, eyes focused on the fire and not the mile of thigh you may or may not be showing him. He seems like a good kid - awful line of work but a good kid. From the corner of your eye you note the Cowboy is watching you both, although he’s mercifully silent.

“Your back must be killing you,” you tell him softly. When he doesn’t reply you reach over and gently massage the back of his neck. “Oh wow, you’re so tense.”

“Gotta stay awake,” he finally mumbles and you tsk softly, moving behind him.

“Let me help with this, I’ll feel safer knowing you’re not in any pain.”

It doesn’t take a moment to find the artery you’re looking for, and Travis is in such a daze he doesn’t notice you’ve cut off the blood flow to his brain until it’s too late to fight back. You lay him down with careful hands, being sure not to let anything make noise as you do. You finish him with a shot of tranq.

“Nice work.”

Your eyes fly to the Cowboy and he’s giving you an approving smile. A quick check shows that the other two are still sleeping and you stand with your bag, debating what you might want to take.

“Take the kid’s gun,” he says quietly, “you’ll need it.”

Dammit he’s right.

You take the rifle and what ammunition you can find and turn to go before you hesitate. You glance back at the Cowboy and he quickly shakes his head.

“Don’t waste time on me, darlin’. Get yourself out of Dodge.”

With a nod you leave Cooper there, setting off into the darkness. You hadn’t killed the kid, although you probably should have, and the tranq was barely a few drops. Just what was left after Cooper had tranqed you. But it should buy you a half hour, maybe more.

It buys you a mile, give or take.

Sounds carries in the desert so when the men start shouting you can hear it echoing. A glance back at the fire shows shadows occasionally blocking it and you quicken your pace. As long as Cooper doesn’t give up your direction you should be fine til morning.

Were you terrible for leaving him behind?

You pause, staring off at the dark shape of the mountains. You didn’t owe him a damn thing, absolutely not. But also… you weren’t the kind of person to just leave people like that either.

Aren’t you? a tiny voice in your head mocks.

Visions of faces just like yours, racks of people waiting to be sold to the highest bidder. They were still there, at the facility. If you made it away Galen would just sell the next girl on the list. And the next. You were pretty sure he’d been alive since the bombs fell - who knew how long he could keep this all going.

Did you owe it to the women just like you to stop it?

Could you live with yourself if you didn’t?

With a heavy sigh you find a nearby rock and pull your feet up, waiting for the search party. It takes them a while, probably another two hours while you grow even firmer in your resolve. It’s Javier who eventually ‘sneaks’ up on you. Whacking you across the back of your head so hard you slam face first into the rock below.

Twice in two days, probably not good for you.

You come up with a curse, spitting out blood and tonguing at a tooth that feels loose. Hands immediately pull you to your feet, tying your wrists together behind your back and shoving you back towards the fire.

“Bitch,” he grunts and you try to get your wits back around you. What would you do if you were still running? How would you act?

“Please let me go,” you plead softly. “I’ll do anything.”

You stumble next to Javier as he drags you back towards the fire, hitting the dirt more than once with nothing to break your fall. He jerks you to your feet each time, muttering things to himself until you’re moving again.

“You telling me you didn’t see a damn thing?”

“I was sleeping, same as you,” Cooper’s voice drawls as you re-enter the firelight. He glances up at you and his jaw hardens. You know you must look a mess, you can taste blood and you’ve fallen face first to the ground more than once.

“There you are,” Bossman grunts, coming to stand in front of you. “Bet you thought you had us.”

Travis is nursing a black eye which you feel a little bad about. But you don’t say anything as they untie Cooper - who rubs at his wrists and gives them an assessing look - and then use those same ropes to truss you up. As they move away he takes a step closer, barely speaking above a whisper.

“How far d’you get?”

“Too far… not far enough.”

He grunts. “Lost the element of surprise now.”

“It’s fine,” you sigh, “I don’t need it.”

He turns to you with a fully quizzical look before someone’s voice calls out and he goes to sit nearer to the fire. But he watches you the rest of the night, eyes burning with unasked questions.

☢ ☢ ☢

For updates follow and turn on notifications for @brandyllyn-writes

[sevencolorsatlast]

Creator Being a Hidden Fighter/Badass

(Edit: Added an artwork for demonstration👀)

Hear me out, I like flipping AUs like this on its head or introducing a trope that's different from most.

I noticed that in most versions of SAGAU that Creator is helpless and can be oblivious at times or trolling the shit anyone in their vicinity. I don't have a problem with that, you do you folks. But variety is the spice of life, ain't it?

Anyway, here goes: what if the Creator may look like a gentle idiot but is actually well-equipped of lore and knowledge about Teyvat and most of inhabitants. This includes Teyvat's entire history, how the Archons and playable characters fight, as well knowing their strengths and weaknesses and personal likes and dislikes. Creator is basically a passionate fan of Genshin Impact on its launch day and updated with everything happening (you decide if they stopped playing or not - regardless, they are still updated with stories and the characters being released and knowing absolutely everything about them).

Not to mention the Creator is terrifying and can fight tooth and nail by using the powers borrowed from their favored vessels/playable characters (related to this post). Basically, Creator would go ham and take someone down a peg or two if they are royally pissed.

Let's say, for example, Creator is being chased in Imposter!SAGAU and accidentally discover that they can summon the Vision power(s) of whoever is chasing them, turns around with a smirk on their face and fists glowing with energy. Knowing how the characters fight, the Creator would curb-stomp everything and everyone who stands in their way, turning their pursuers on their heels and running in the other direction. No one knows how to take them down because of how powerful they are, and they seem to know their weaknesses and always know when to strike - sometimes even pretending to be an idiot. It's like they are saying, "If you are chasing the fuck out of me, try that again, and you're gonna eat my fists, you little shits." and "Guess who becomes the hunted now?"

In normal SAGAU, people thought that the Creator was somewhat of a ditz but rumors quickly spread that they're not someone to mess with, witnessed by the Archons themselves when a certain someone disrespected the Dendro Archon and received his rightful punishment.

Creator don't even need their favored acolytes to protect them because they can tear them down themself. The Archons and their acolytes would try to get on their good side regardless of version of SAGAU. Who in the world would like to get their Creator angered and unleashing their hidden fury anyways?

[tashacee]

Hallo! Came straight over from ao3 after receiving your reply! I really loved reading Aspects of a Hero: Master Mode! I also happened to be the kind of person who loves what-ifs! Therefore I have a request: another chapter BUT from the perspective of one of the non-cursed heroes, specifically pertaining their reactions to seeing their cursed comrades as hylians! There is so much potential DRAMA! I’d want to hear their first impressions of each other, I’d love to hear them get to know each other again, hear how they adjust to their new group dynamics - I’d just love to see what you can do with it! Don’t feel pressured to write though! But I’m sure it’s a challenge and a perspective you’d enjoy tackling! ;)

Master of Change

Wind loved his weird family. Sure, two of them were literal animals, four more were magical creatures who couldn’t communicate with them, and one was a ghost, but grandma always said that variety is the spice of life! And, as grandma is always right, then this was a good thing!

Wind just. He loved them all. He loved Warriors, his big brother, who he had thought he’d never see again. He loved Sky, how gentle he was and how fearsome in battle. Spirit seemed custom built to be his best friend, and Wind’s only regret was that he couldn’t actually hug his ghostly brother. 

Twi, despite being a literal wolf, was gentle and nurturing and always up to snuggle. Legend was a grumpy little bun bun, but Wind could usually talk him round to sit on his lap. 

Four and Hyrule, despite their size, were fun and always up to cause mischief. Four was frustrated that no one recognised his sign and Hyrule didn’t seem to have ever learned sign at all, and they were slowly starting to pick up a few phrases that the rest could understand. It wasn’t perfect - they were still just beginning after all and. Well. The two were tiny. 

And then there was Time and Wild. The two largest of the chain. The sailor couldn’t tell how many nights he had fallen asleep snuggled into one of their arms, cuddled up and listening to gentle purrs or the soft creaking of wood. 

So yes. Wind loved his brothers. He accepted them as they were, no ifs, no buts, no conditions. 

And then, suddenly, his brothers were… less weird?

They were all hylian???

Wind wasn’t complaining! Not in the slightest! He could finally hug Spirit, which was like, pretty much his entire life’s mission up until that moment. And it felt good.

But then there was the rest of them. Hyrule wasn’t a two inch tall fairy, he was a hylian guy with messy hair, ragged clothes, and seemed even more shy than before. Four was still admittedly tiny, but was the size of a child rather than a mouse, and was VERY excited to be understood again.

Wild still had his scars but was short and blond. Legend was a whole ass adult with a husband and a bad attitude. Wolfie was possibly the coolest rancher dude Wind had ever met. And Time-

Time was Mask. But, like. Old.

Wind was man enough to admit that… okay yeah. He sobbed like a baby when he realised Time was his baby brother all grown up. All this time he’d been wondering and worrying that Mask hadn’t joined them and here he was!

It was a lot to get used to. Their previous camping arrangements didn’t work now that they were all hylian, and what was more, they suddenly had Opinions from members of the chain who couldn’t speak before. Even Twilight, who it turned out was still unable to talk, was more than competent in multiple signs and both could and would use that to give his two rupees

But… it wasn’t bad. SURE it was an adjustment. Warriors looked vaguely constipated and like he needed a drink, but honestly, that was his general expression these days.But they were all brothers, and they were finally properly united.

Wind grinned as he thought over all that had changed in the last few weeks. He was snuggled up with Spirit, and nearby he could hear Time and Wild chatting quietly and laughing with Four.

Yeah, it was weird. It was a lot to get used to.But it was good. And, frankly, that was all that mattered.

[mychlapci]

Best girl Sentinel Prime’s coworkers are happy to surprise her by having her gender changed on the official paperwork without her even needing to ask. First Aid verified it so they could submit it, and now all of the records have been corrected to reflect that Sentinel is their good girl. Although she’s stopped taking her “heat suppressants,” her medic has prescribed her estrogen! They look the same to Sentinel, but First Aid assured her that many drugs do and it’s nothing to worry about. So she doesn’t. Her focus is on beating this heat so she can get back to work and stop having to wear her soft, pretty skirts and cute little bras… well, okay, maybe she’ll still wear them but Sentinel misses not feeling so emotional and needy!

Her coworkers are sent from Primus, she’s sure! They’re so understanding of her mood-swings, always eager to pet her plating and coo understandingly as they slip their spikes into her wet pussy. They always know what she needs! And they insist that she not wear plugs or close her panels; they need to be able to administer her treatment whenever the heat symptoms get too much to bear. I.e. anytime they think Sentinel is being too bitchy or demanding, they give her enough overloads to turn her into a giggly, clinging mess. Which means that lubricants and transfluid are often painting the inside of her thighs by the end of the day.

They all have different styles of fucking her, which Sentinel loves. Variety is the spice of life and all! Jazz likes her loud and begging, and is generous with overloads. He’s got lots of tricks for fragging a valve, and it absolutely shows when Sentinel is crying through yet another overload. First Aid makes her do all the work under the guise of “letting his patient take what she needs.” But mostly so he can watch her figure out how it feels best to ride his spike. Blurr frags fast and overloads quickly, but he makes up for it by overloading /a lot/. And the sheer speed and desperation of it do something for Sentinel, leaving her pliant and well fragged when he finally pulls out. Cliffjumper makes her warm his spike and totally ignores her. It’s almost unbearably hot, the way he pretends she’s not there even when he frags into her. Doing his datawork over Sentinel’s shoulder, occasionally hushing her when she whines. If she gets *too loud* he just tells her to do her own work on that lovely hypnopad and then continues lazily fucking an eager valve whenever the mood strikes. Some of them toy with her limp spikelet, some don’t. Some pinch, bite, or suck her nozzles, and some don’t. But they’re all happy to help their best girl with her needs. When Sentinel inevitably winds up pregnant they’ll have no idea whose it is other than hers. Maybe it’s all of theirs, the sheer volume of transfluid mixing in her forge.

When First Aid confirms that Sentinel is pregnant she feels relieved! Her protracted heat is finally over and she can stop fucking her coworkers like a slut. She’ll be able to get back to work with no distractions, now that her hormones age totally gonna level off! Except her men are quick to remind her that carriers need lots of transfluid to stay healthy, and they’re more than happy to contribute for their best girl’s sake. Transfluid with every meal! Taken orally and by valve, of course. And plenty of fragging to keep her topped up and relaxed. Stress is bad for the baby. They’ll spend the entire carriage helping Sentinel understand that getting her fucked at work is what’s best for all of them.

ouhhh they made such a good girl out of her… You know, now I can't help but wonder what Ultra Magnus thinks about this though aasdbshksk. Did he just watch on, silent, as the entire office conspired to turn Sentinel into a girl, and just let it happen? Was he completely ignorant until one day, Sentinel walked into his office, cute skirt swishing around her hips, the only thing more striking than her new hourglass figure being the little starting baby bump on her belly…? Either way, I think he should join in on the fun, introduce her to a whole new kind of stretch. Sentinel likes the variety in her lovers, after all.

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 24 Chapter 24 | sweet sixteen⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽

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The stadium buzzed with energy as the afternoon sun cast long shadows over the arena. The echoes of laughter and cheers filled the air as the recreational activities drew to a close, leaving the audience in high spirits. The side games had been a whirlwind of fun and competition, with students from all courses showcasing their unique talents and quirks in a variety of mini-events.

Present Mic's voice crackled through the speakers, his enthusiasm infectious. "[Yo, yo, yo! Ladies and gentlemen, let's give it up for our incredible students who rocked the side games! We saw some wild moves, crazy quirks, and epic fun! But now, it's time to shift gears and turn up the heat! Are you ready for the main event?!]"

The crowd erupted into cheers, their excitement palpable as they eagerly awaited the next phase of the festival.

"[Alright, heroes and future pros, feast your eyes on the scoreboard! Here are the lucky contestants moving on to the One-on-One Fighting Tournament! Drum roll, please!]"

With a dramatic flourish, the large video screen above the stadium flickered to life, displaying the names and faces of the fourteen students who had qualified for the tournament. The names were listed in order of their team rankings from the Cavalry Battle.

_Scoreboard_

1st Place ~ Team Todoroki: 1.Todoroki Shoto 2.Kaminari Denki 3.Yaoyorozu Momo 4.Iida Tenya

2nd Place ~ Team Bakugo: 5.Bakugo Katsuki 6.Ashido Mina 7.Sero Hanta 8.Kirishima Eijiro

3rd Place ~ Team Shinso: 9.Shinso Hitoshi 10.Akuma Y/N

4th Place ~ Team Midoriya: 11.Midoriya Izuku 12.Tokoyami Fumikage 13.Uraraka Ochaco 14.Hatsume Mei

Present Mic leaned forward, peering dramatically at the screen before spinning around to face the audience, slamming both hands down on the announcer's desk, causing a loud thud that echoed through the stadium. "[Wait a minute, folks! I'm counting fourteen contestants! That's...hold on...14!? That's not quite enough for a full bracket! Does this mean we'll have to pit the two strongest fighters against each other for double the action? Double the elimination?! What ever shall we do??]" The man gasped into the mic before turning his attention to his colleague. "[Hey Midnight! Is there any way we can we add more fire to this showdown?? Maybe get more contenders in here? I want this tournament to last longer, and I know you all do too!]"

The camera panned to Midnight, who stood near the center of the field. With a sly smile, she cracked her whip, the sharp crack reverberating through the arena. "I see no reason why we shouldn't spice things up a bit. Let's allow the next two highest-scoring students to join the fray and make this a sweet sixteen!"

The screen updated, adding two new names to the list of contestants:

15.Shiozaki Ibara 16.Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu

You exhaled deeply as you left the restroom, relieved to finally be out of the cheerleading outfit and back into the Sports' Festival unfirm. As you walked back towards the stadium, the muffled cheers and Present Mic's amplified voice filtered through the walls, growing louder with each step.

"[And there you have it, folks! Welcome Ibara Shiozaki and Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu to the tournament! Now that's what I call a proper lineup! Are you ready to see these heroes-in-training throw down? This is gonna be EPIC! Grab your popcorn, your soda, and get comfy, because we're about to witness some serious action!]"

You paused at the entrance to the seating area, glancing up at the large screen that displayed the newly updated tournament bracket. The addition of Shiozaki and Tetsutetsu brought the total number of contestants to sixteen, ensuring a full and balanced competition.

Just as you were about to head to your class's designated section, a familiar voice called out to you.

"Hey, Akuma-san!" You turned to see Kirishima jogging towards you, his face lighting up with excitement as he caught up. "Did you hear? Midoriya's up next!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with anticipation.

You forced a polite smile, concealing your growing annoyance.  Biting back the urge to snap. Instead, you nodded, your tone measured. "Oh? Well, can't miss that, can we? If you'll excuse—" Before you could finish excusing yourself to your class's section, Mina's high-pitched squeal reached your ears. "Akuma-san, over here!" She bounded over, her eyes sparkling with excitement, followed closely by Sero and Kaminari.

Mina, grabbing your hand, "C'mon, you can sit with us to watch! It'll be so much fun!" She began pulling you towards their section before you could utter a word of protest.

Sero chimed in, a playful grin on his face: "Yeah, Akuma-san, it'll be way more interesting with you there."

"Besides, who wouldn't want to watch a match with such a captivating view?" Kaminari adds with a wink, causing Mina to roll her eyes.

Despite your mild annoyance, you allowed yourself to be guided to the stands, settling into a seat between Mina and Ojiro. You glanced around, noting the large screen displayed the details of the upcoming fight.

Midoriya and Shinso stood at opposite ends of the arena, their expressions a mix of determination and focus. The crowd's murmurs hushed as the anticipation built, all eyes on the two contestants.

"[Welcome to the first match of the finals tournament! It's Midoriya Izuku from the hero course versus Shinso Hitoshi from general studies! The rules are simple: immobilize your opponent or force them outta the ring! You can also win by getting the other person to cry uncle. Let's get ready to rumble!]"

The crowd erupted in cheers as Midnight raised her whip, signaling the start of the match.

"[Ready? Begin!]"

You watched intently as Midoriya and Shinso faced each other. Then, Midoriya's body suddenly went rigid, his eyes widening in shock as he froze in place.

Ojiro, beside you, leaned in, whispering urgently, "I warned him not to say anything!"

"[The fight has just begun and Midoriya Izuku is... completely frozen? He's not moving a muscle! What's with that look on his face? Could this be a Quirk at work? Shinso seems to have Midoriya completely stunned! He didn't stand out in the first rounds at all, but it's possible Hitoshi's crazy powerful! Who could've imagined this turn of events? That's the Festival for ya! Ha-ha!]"

You narrowed your eyes, focusing on Shinso's calm, almost smug expression as he began to circle the frozen Midoriya, a smirk playing on his lips, "You're lucky to have been so blessed, Midoriya Izuku. Now turn around and walk out of bounds like the good little hero you are."

Midoriya's body obeyed, his movements robotic as he began to walk towards the edge of the ring. The crowd gasped, and you could feel the tension in the air as everyone watched in disbelief.

"[Uh—What?! Ah! Midoriya's obeying him! And there you have it! Shinso Hitoshi! His Quirk: Brainwashing! When an opponent answers his question, it flips a switch in their minds, forcing them to do whatever he says. Not every question does it, though. He only brainwashes when he wants to. Not very flashy...]"

Aizawa's calm, analytical voice cut through Present Mic's excitement. "[This is a perfect example of why the entrance exam isn't rational.]"

"[Huh? Why's that, Eraser?]"

"[Since we're on to the individual matches, I had some information compiled about our final competitors. Shinso failed the practical exam to get into the hero course. Since he also applied for general studies, he probably figured that would happen. His Quirk is incredibly strong, but that entrance test consisted of fighting faux villains. Robots. It gave a huge advantage to those who had physical superpowers they could show off.]" Aizawa continued, his tone measured: "[Despite his abilities, Shinso never stood a chance at passing.]"

You watched as Midoriya's feet edged closer to the boundary, his eyes wide with panic. His internal struggle was evident, and you could almost see the gears turning in his mind as he tried to resist.

.☆.          .✩.                   .☆.

Midoriya's mind was a whirlwind of confusion and frustration as he struggled against the invisible chains binding his will.

What's happening? My body's moving on its own. I feel like my brain is full of fog. I can't concentrate. No! Not like this. Gotta stop! Dammit!

Desperation clawed at him, and he fought to recall Ojiro's warning about Shinsou's Quirk. The memory was hazy, slipping through his grasp like sand, but the urgency of the situation sharpened his focus.

I fell for it, even after Ojiro warned me about his power. I'm an idiot. This is all my fault!

🇫‌🇱‌🇦‌🇸‌🇭‌🇧‌🇦‌🇨‌🇰‌:

In the bustling halls of the Sports Festival's recreational area, Ojiro leaned closer to Midoriya, his expression serious as he recounted his experience with Shinso. "His Quirk is that he can control other people. It's powerful, but he can't use it unless you answer his questions. He didn't get into my head until I responded to something he said."

Midoriya's eyes wide with concern. "So I have to be careful not to say anything, or I'll lose for sure."

Ojiro nodded, a thoughtful look crossing his face. "Well, not exactly. Even if he gets you, there's still a chance. At the beginning of the cavalry battle, after he approached me, I don't remember anything until I bumped into another person. It was like I woke up, and suddenly I could think clearly."

"So that bump broke his hold?"

"Maybe. It's only a guess, but it's something to keep in mind."

Midoriya's eyes darted around, searching for anything that could jolt his body back under his own control. His feet continued their march towards the edge, each step bringing him closer to disqualification.

Even in the faced of disqualification, Midoriya couldn't help but analyze his situation: Still... I don't know how much of a shock it would take to break his spell. And in a one-on-one match, I can't count on an outside force intervening to help me.

The only part of his body under his control were his eyes, and he scanned the crowd, his gaze lingering on familiar faces. Each person he saw, each pair of worried eyes, felt like a weight pressing down on him. He was letting them down. He was letting everyone down.

I can't stop it. I'm going to lose. It's all over. Even though... so many people are counting on me... Everyone is watching... Everyone!

As despair gripped his heart, his eyes finally landed on you. Your gaze met his, and for a brief, electric moment, everything else faded away. Your lips moved, forming a single, commanding word: "Move."

A jolt of clarity shot through him, igniting a spark of defiance in his chest. His heart pounded in his ears, and the fog clouding his mind seemed to lift, replaced by the fierce determination in your eyes.

What... is... that? Wait.

Shinso paced behind Midoriya, his voice dripping with mockery. He watched Midoriya's struggle with a cold satisfaction, convinced of his impending victory. "Even with a Quirk like this, I have my own dreams of becoming a great hero. So, lose for me."

The edge of the platform loomed closer, the boundary line a stark reminder of his precarious situation. Just as his foot hovered above the line, Midoriya's eyes widened in sudden clarity. In a desperate act of defiance, he summoned all his strength and snapped his own fingers, the sharp crack resonating through the arena.

Present Mic's voice rose in excitement at the spectacle. "[What's this? Midoriya stopped just in time!]"

The crowd erupted into cheers, their relief and exhilaration echoing through the stadium.

Aizawa, his eyes narrowing with interest, saying. "[His finger. He broke one in order to stop Shinso.]"

Pain seared through Midoriya's hand, but his mind was clear, his resolve unwavering. He flexed his finger, the agony grounding him in reality.

Shinso's smug expression dissolved into shock and disbelief. His eyes widened as he took a step back, the confidence in his stance faltering. "No. Impossible. You're not supposed to be able to fight back! What did you do?"

Midoriya's gaze locked onto Shinso, his eyes blazing with determination. Though instead of answering vocally, all he did was raise a brow.

Internally, Midoriya didn't have an answer for the purplenette—noy yet anyways. All he knows is that something extraordinary just happened. I'm certain I'm the one who used One For All. But I'm not the one who moved my fingers just now. It was like someone I didn't know came into my mind. And for a second, it was clear. Could it be—Later. I don't have time to figure things out right now. I have to focus.

Panic flickered in Shinso's eyes as he glanced towards the crowd. His gaze landed on you, and he saw the bored, almost dismissive expression on your face. A flicker of panic crossed his features, desperation clawing at him. He won't answer. Did he figure it out? No. He's known. That damn dog-monkey must have told him. I have to get him to talk again.

Desperation tinged his voice as he tried to provoke a response from Midoriya. "Come on, say something. I didn't know you had so much power in your fingers. I'm kind of jealous of you."

Midoriya's resolve hardened, his thoughts a whirlwind of determination and empathy. I know what that jealousy feels like. I've been there.

Shinso scoffs at the lack of an answer, his voice bitter. "Thanks to the way my Quirk works, I've always been at a big disadvantage. But someone as blessed as you wouldn't understand that."

I get it. Even though he's right. I have been blessed.

Shinso's frustration mounted, his voice laced with bitterness and desperation. "You're lucky enough to have a heroic Quirk! It'll be so easy for you to reach your goal!"

Midoriya's eyes softened momentarily, a flicker of understanding passing over his face. I've been blessed by others. That's why I'm here!

Shinso's voice rose to a shout, his desperation evident. "Say something, dammit!"

Midoriya's  resolve crystallized, eyes blazing with determination. Still...I can't lose this. I'll do it for her...for them!

Shinsou's frustration boiled over, his voice cracking with anger. "You've gotta be kidding me! Get out of this ring, you lucky brat!"

With a fierce cry, Midoriya surged forward, his fist connecting with Shinso's chest in a powerful punch. The impact sent Shinso sprawling out of bounds, his body hitting the ground with a thud.

Midnight's voice rings out over the cheers of the crowd. "Shinso is out of bounds! Midoriya advances to the next match!"

"[And with that expertly performed throw, we have our first victor of the finals! Class -A's Izuku Midoriya!]"

The stadium erupted in cheers, the roar of the crowd a thunderous wave of excitement. Midoriya stood at the center of the ring, his chest heaving with exertion, but his eyes were bright with triumph. He glanced around, taking in the overwhelming support from the audience, a mix of relief and exhilaration washing over him.

He looked up at the stands, his gaze meeting yours for a brief moment. You gave a small, approving nod, acknowledging his victory before quickly scurrying to sit with your classmates before Mina and the others noticed.

"[He focused his power like he did in the fitness test and used the throw from combat training. It's not just that he's learning from his experiences: he's using every trick he's picked up to improve his odds.]" Aizawa noted with a professional flare.

Present Mic nodded enthusiastically, his grin wide as he continued his commentary. "[Oh, yeah! That was actually kind of a boring first match, kids. But both of you fought bravely. Let's show them some love, everyone!]"

The applause swelled, a sea of clapping hands and cheering voices celebrating the efforts of both competitors. Midoriya's gaze flickered towards Shinso, who was still on the ground, a mix of defeat and frustration etched across his features. Shinso slowly got to his feet, his eyes downcast, but he squared his shoulders, accepting his defeat with a grim determination.

As Midoriya walked back towards the waiting area, the crowd's cheers continued to resonate, the excitement of the tournament reaching new heights. The first battle had set the tone for the intense and unpredictable matches to come, and you couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation for what lay ahead.

☆

☆

Seated amongst your classmates—with you strategically seated between Kendo and Monoma—because, according to the blonde, it's to ensure safety from the "fake 1-A heroes from stealing you away," you watched as the seats around you buzzed with energy, your classmates' excitement palpable as they eagerly awaited the next match.

Suddenly, Present Mic's voice boomed across the stadium, drawing everyone's attention back to the arena. "[Enough standing around. Now welcome to the ring, our next players!]"

The spotlight swung to the center of the arena, illuminating Shoto Todoroki and Hanta Sero as they stepped onto the platform. The contrast between their expressions was stark—Sero's nervous determination clashed with Todoroki's cool, impassive demeanor.

"[He's got skills! But at the expense of some really creepy-looking elbows. From the Hero Course, it's Sero Hanta!]"

"That was uncalled for," Sero muttered under his breath, shaking his head with a wry grin.

"[Versus an early frontrunner in the competition who's way too strong for his own good! Someone who rightfully got into the Hero Course based on recommendations! It's Todoroki Shoto!]"

The crowd's cheers swelled as Todoroki's name was announced, a mixture of awe and anticipation rippling through the spectators. You leaned forward slightly, your eyes narrowing as you focused on the two competitors.

"[And now, for the second match of the finals. Ready?]"

Sero scratched the back of his neck, staring back at Todoroki's blank face. "Well, I don't really feel—"

Present Mic cut the teen off, shouting, "[Begin!]"

"—like I can win this fight. But, man—" Sero didn't waste a second, launching into his attack with a swift, decisive movement. His tape shot out, wrapping around Todoroki with a practiced precision, his face set in a determined grimace. "—I don't feel like losing, either!"

"[That attack could throw his opponent out of bounds! A brilliant, surprise opening from the underdog! Way to start off strong, Sero!]" Present Mic announces.

The tape wrapped tightly around Todoroki, and tried Sero pulling with all his might. For a moment, it seemed like his strategy might succeed, but with a sudden, precise movement, Todoroki used his feet to freeze the ground beneath him.

The ice spread rapidly, creating a shockwave that sent a burst of cold air rippling through the arena. Sero's eyes widened as he struggled to maintain his grip, the ice forming faster than he could react.

"Is that... an earthquake? What the heck is goin' on?" Monoma muttered beside you with wide eyes.

The ice attack created a massive wave, quickly encompassing Sero. The cold bit into his skin, freezing him in place as the ice continued to spread, leaving half the entire festival arena encased in a shimmering, frozen expanse.

"Holy crap." Sero's voice was muffled by the ice, a mixture of frustration and resignation evident as he managed a weak response. "Um... Don't you think you went overboard?"

Midnight, standing on the edge of the frozen section, raised her whip to get the crowd's attention. "Tell the truth, Sero. Can you move at all?"

"Are you kidding? Obviously not. My body is freezing!"

The crowd gasped, the magnitude of Todoroki's ice attack sinking in. The spectacle left the audience in awe, their cheers mingling with murmurs of astonishment.

Midnight swung her whip in the air with a resounding whack. "It's official. Sero has been immobilized! Todoroki advances to the second round!"

The announcement echoed through the stadium, the cheers intensifying as the reality of Todoroki's power set in. The audience erupted into applause, a chorus of "Nice try!" reverberating through the stands.

Todoroki turned to walk away, but not before throwing Sero a quick apology over his shoulder. "Sorry about that. It was a bit much. I was angry, is all."

You watched Todoroki as he left the arena, his expression unchanged despite the overwhelming display of power. The intensity of his attack and the ease with which he had executed it left a lasting impression, a clear testament to his capabilities.

Sometime after Todoroki's icy aftermath melted away, Present Mic's booming voice echoed across the stadium, rallying the crowd for the next battle. "[And now, let's welcome our next competitors! This match promises to be a real shocker!]"

The spotlight shifted, illuminating the next contenders as they stepped onto the stage. On one side was Kaminari Denki, a confident grin plastered across his face. Opposite him stood Shiozaki Ibara, her calm demeanor contrasting with the electricity crackling in the air around Kaminari.

"[Ready for a jolt? From the Hero Course, it's Kaminari Denki! And his opponent, bringing the power of nature itself, it's Shiozaki Ibara from Class 1-B!]"

Kaminari shot a cocky smile at Shiozaki, his confidence almost palpable. "Hey, Shiozaki! How about we grab a bite to eat after this match? You know, to comfort you after your inevitable loss." He chuckled, his eyes sparking with mischief. "This match is gonna be over in seconds."

Shiozaki's eyes narrowed slightly, her expression serene but resolute. She turned away from Kaminari, her hair coiling around her like a protective shield.

"[Oooh~, someone's got confidence! Let's see if Kaminari's got what it takes!]"

The starting signal blared, and Kaminari wasted no time, electricity surging through him as he prepared to unleash his attack. "Indiscriminate Shock: 1.3 Million Volts!"

Electricity crackled and surged from Kaminari, the air around him shimmering with the raw power of his Quirk. The crowd gasped, the sheer magnitude of his attack electrifying the atmosphere. The bolts of lightning arced towards Ibara, threatening to engulf her.

However, Shiozaki remained unfazed. With a fluid, almost graceful movement, she commanded her vine-like hair to form a protective barrier around her. "Shield!" The vines wove together, creating a thick shield that absorbed the brunt of Kaminari's attack.

The electricity sizzled and sparked against the vines, but Shiozaki's shield held strong. Kaminari's confident grin faltered as he watched his attack dissipate harmlessly.

"[Whoa! Shiozaki's not going down without a fight! Look at that defense!]"

As the last of Kaminari's electricity fizzled out, he stumbled, his usual cocky expression replaced by a vacant, dopey grin. His attack had backfired, leaving him in his infamous 'dumb state.' "Heh, I think I overdid it..."

Shiozaki seized the opportunity, her vines snapping forward with swift precision. They coiled around Kaminari, lifting him off the ground and suspending him in mid-air. His arms and legs were bound, rendering him completely immobile.

Shiozakis voice was calm, almost gentle as she addressed her opponent. "May the Lord forgive your sins, Kaminari-san."

With a flick of her wrist, the vines tightened, securing Kaminari in place. He dangled helplessly, a bewildered smile plastered on his face as he struggled against the restraints.

"[And there you have it! Shiozaki's defense and counterattack have Kaminari wrapped up—literally!]"

Midnight, still chilled from the lingering effects of Todoroki's earlier attack, stepped forward, her whip cracking sharply in the air. "Kaminari Denki is immobilized! Shiozaki Ibara wins!"

The crowd erupted in applause, cheers mingling with laughter at the unexpected outcome. In the stands, Tetsutetsu leaped to his feet, pumping his fists in the air. "Yeah! That's how you do it, Shiozaki! Show them what Class 1-B is made of!"

Monoma, not missing a beat, leaned over the railing, his voice dripping with mockery as he taunted the Hero Course students. "See that, 1-A? That's how a real hero fights! Too bad your electric wonder boy couldn't keep up!"

You glanced at Kendo out of the corner of your eye. Seeing this, your Vice-President's hand shot out and delivered a swift chop to the back of his neck.

Monoma yelped, holding the sore spot. "Hey, what was—"

"Enough, Monoma. Let's show some class," Kendo hissed with narrowed eyes before falling silent.

Monoma grumbled, rubbing his neck, but reluctantly fell silent. You couldn't help but smirk at the exchange, finding it amusing no matter how often it occurs.

The excitement in the stadium didn't wane as the next match was announced. "[Alright, folks, let's keep this momentum going! Up next, we've got a match that's sure to be full of surprises!]"

The spotlight shifted once more, illuminating Iida Tenya and Hatsume Mei as they took their positions on the stage. Iida stood tall, his posture rigid with determination, while Hatsume's eyes sparkled with barely contained excitement.

"[From the Hero Course, it's the speedster himself, Iida Tenya! And his opponent, ready to dazzle us with her gadgets, from the Support Course, it's Hatsume Mei!]"

The signal to start blared, and Iida immediately launched into action, his engines roaring to life as he sprinted towards Hatsume with impressive speed. "Prepare yourself, Hatsume-san! I will not hold back!"

Hatsume, however, seemed completely unfazed by Iida's aggressive approach. She activated her microphone, her voice cheerful and informative as she addressed the crowd. "Hello, everyone! Check this out—these leg braces I designed for Iida-kun here improve his mobility by 25%! Watch how he moves!"

Iida, taken aback by her casual demeanor, stumbled slightly but quickly regained his composure. He pressed forward, determined to close the distance between them. "What are you—?"

Before he could finish, Hatsume's backpack whirred to life, hydraulic attachments propelling her out of his reach with a smooth, mechanical efficiency.

"[Whoa! Did you see that, Eraser!? Hatsume's got some tricks up her sleeves!]"

As Iida attempted to adapt, Hatsume's voice continued, her excitement infectious as she demonstrated her gadgets. "And that's not all! These hydraulic attachments allow me to maneuver with ease! Oh, and let's not forget the Auto Balancers—watch how they keep Iida-kun from falling!"

Iida tried to use her distraction to his advantage, but Hatsume's backpack sensors detected his approach, activating the hydraulic attachments once more to evade him. He stumbled over the devices, but the Auto Balancers kicked in, preventing him from falling and redirecting him back towards her.

"[Looks like Hatsume's turned this match into a full-on gadget showcase!]"

"[This isn't a commercial, Hatsume-san,]" Aizawa grumbled, a complete 180 from his co-host's attitude.

Frustration etched across Iida's face as he charged again, demanding a fair fight. "Hatsume-san! Stop using your gadgets as distractions and fight me properly!" 

Hatsume, her enthusiasm undeterred, evaded him once more, using her Electromagnetic Soles to glide smoothly across the stage. "But I am fighting! I'm showcasing my inventions! Look at these Electromagnetic Soles—they allow me to evade with precision!"

Iida's patience was wearing thin as he made another attempt to close the gap, but Hatsume was ready. She pulled out a Capture Gun, firing a net that ensnared Iida, immobilizing him.

"[Iida's caught in a net! What a turn of events!]"

Hatsume turned her attention to the support companies in the crowd, introducing herself with a confident smile. "I'm Hatsume Mei, and I hope you're impressed with my babies! There's more where these came from!"

For the next ten minutes, Hatsume continued to demonstrate her gadgets, much to the chagrin of Iida, who struggled futilely against the net. The crowd, initially baffled, soon found themselves entertained by her relentless enthusiasm.

Eventually, Hatsume walked out of the ring, her objective clearly met.

Midnight's whip cracked in the air, bringing the match to a close. "Hatsume Mei has stepped out of bounds! Iida Tenya is the winner!"

The audience's applause was a mix of confusion and amusement. Iida, despite his victory, looked thoroughly exasperated. "Hatsume-san! You used me as a prop!"

"I'm sorry, Iida-kun! But it worked, didn't it?" Hatsume giggled with a shrug of her shoulders.

Iida's expression darkened, his eyes narrowing in frustration. "I hate you."

Hatsume's apology, while technically present, lacked any real remorse, her attention already shifting to her next invention. "Oh~ I can totally create an 'I-hate-you-inator'! It'll track and detect levels of dislike/hatred surrounding the chosen subject..." As you watched Hatsume leave the ring, her nonchalant acceptance of her own defeat and eagerness to advertise her gadgets leaving the crowd in a mix of awe and confusion, you knew your turn was coming up.

You brushed off your uniform as you stood, smoothing out any wrinkles as you prepared yourself mentally.

Your classmates were abuzz with excitement, their voices blending into a harmonious cheer of encouragement.

"Akuma-san, knock 'em dead!"

"Yeah! You got this!"

"Show them 1-B's no second choice!"

Kendo's eyes sparkled with pride, and she gave you a thumbs-up. Tsuburaba and Shiozaki exchanged nods of support. Monoma, always the dramatic one, quickly grasped one of your hands just before you walked away.

"You got this, President!" he said, his voice filled with earnest admiration and a touch of nervous energy. His grip was firm but comforting, a tangible reminder of your classmates' support.

You hummed softly, your lips twitching in disgust at his bold actions. "Thank you, Monoma-kun," you replied, bowing your head in acknowledgment.

The walk to the arena felt like stepping into a different world. The stadium lights bore down on you, their brightness creating stark contrasts and sharp shadows on the ground. The camera flashes were relentless, capturing every moment, every expression, adding to the almost surreal atmosphere. The roar of the crowd was a constant backdrop, a symphony of cheers and excitement that filled the air with palpable energy.

Stepping into the battle ring, you felt the coolness of the arena floor beneath your feet. The space seemed to expand around you, the vastness of the stadium a stark reminder of the scale of the event.

You took a deep breath, grounding yourself amidst the sensory overload. The anticipation was electric, charging the air with a tangible tension as the crowd awaited the start of the match.

Across from you, Mina bounced on her feet, her eyes alight with excitement. Her pink skin glistened under the stadium lights, and her smile was infectious. She seemed more like a cheerleader than a combatant, her enthusiasm almost childlike in its intensity.

"I can't wait to see your fighting style, Akuma-san!" she exclaimed, her voice bubbling with eagerness. "Is it like hand-to-hand combat? Or do you have some cool surprise moves up your sleeve? I'm so excited! I trained with my classmates during the Battle Trial, so I know some of their weaknesses, but I have no idea what to expect from you!"

Her questions came in a rapid stream, each one layered with genuine curiosity and a dash of anticipation. You could see the light in her eyes, a sparkle that made her excitement almost contagious.

Present Mic's voice boomed overhead, adding a humorous commentary to the situation. "[Wow, she's not taking this seriously at all!]"

"[Ashido admittedly does have a major issue with her attention span,]" Aizawa sighed.

The contrast between her playful energy and the serious tone of the match was almost comical.

Without a word, you began to walk towards her, your steps measured and deliberate. Mina's eyes widened as she watched you approach, her questions spilling out even faster. "Oh my gods, what are you going to do? Is this some secret technique? Are you going to—"

You reached out, gently but firmly placing your hands on her shoulders. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity and a hint of surprise.

With a steady, unyielding push, you guided her backwards. Each step you took brought her closer to the edge of the ring, her surprise morphing into confusion and then realization.

Quickly, Mina managed to drop and roll away from your push, her reflexes sharp despite the playful demeanor she had displayed moments before. Springing to her feet, she grinned, her hands planted firmly on her hips. "Whoops! Almost let you get me!"

Her eyes gleamed with a newfound intensity, the playful spark replaced by a keen focus. It was as if a switch had been flipped, and Mina's entire demeanor shifted from bubbly excitement to concentrated determination.

With a swift, fluid motion, she squatted down and secreted acid from her feet. The corrosive substance sizzled as it hit the ground, and she used it to propel herself forward, sliding across the stage with surprising speed. Her movement was almost serpentine, a blend of agility and precision that cut through the air with grace.

For a moment, you considered dodging her attack, calculating the trajectory and speed at which she was approaching. But then, in a split-second decision, you chose not to evade. You let her come closer, her approach like a tidal wave of energy and intent.

As Mina reached you, you executed a half-hearted roundhouse kick, your movements precise yet deliberately leaving yourself open. To anyone else, it would have looked like a full attempt to strike, but you knew better. It was a calculated risk, a feint meant to draw her in.

Mina, her instincts sharp, ducked just in time, her eyes widening as she saw the opening. She lunged forward, aiming a strong uppercut at your side. Her fist brushed past your face, the force of the strike just grazing your skin.

You turned with the motion, making her miss entirely, and quickly grasped both of her arms in a firm hold. The action was fluid, almost too smooth, and before she could react, you had effectively locked her in place. Your grip was steady but not overly harsh, a testament to your control over the situation.

Mina blinked, her concentration breaking for a brief moment. Her eyes sparkled with genuine admiration as she squealed, "No way, that was so cool! How did you dodge that!? I spent weeks perfecting this move..." Her words tumbled out in a rapid stream, her excitement and curiosity spilling over. She seemed almost oblivious to her current predicament, more fascinated by the mechanics of the fight than by the fact that she was restrained.

You sighed inwardly, recognizing that this conversation would likely continue unless you intervened. You glanced over her shoulder, assessing your position in the ring. To your advantage, you noticed that you were right on the edge of the platform. The realization sparked a quick plan in your mind.

Taking advantage of her distraction, you pushed her gently but firmly over the edge. Mina, still caught up in her enthusiastic rambling, barely registered the movement until it was too late. She stumbled backward, her eyes widening in surprise as she tumbled off the platform.

Midnight's whip cracked through the air, the sound sharp and commanding. "Ashido Mina is out of bounds! Akuma Y/N is the winner!"

The crowd erupted in a mixture of laughter and applause, the unexpected simplicity of your victory catching them off guard once again. Present Mic's voice echoed overhead, his tone a blend of amusement and commentary. "[And with Ashido going down embarrassingly easy, that's one win for Akuma!]"

You stood at the edge of the ring, watching as Mina picked herself up, a sheepish grin spreading across her face. Her enthusiasm was undiminished, and she waved cheerfully at you. "Good job, Akuma-san! That was really clever!"

You nodded politely, acknowledging her words with a small smile. The lights of the arena glinted off the metal rails, and the cheers of the crowd formed a backdrop of noise and excitement. The thrill of the fight, coupled with the simplicity of your victory, left a sense of satisfaction bubbling within you.

As you walked back towards the waiting area, you could feel the energy of the stadium humming around you, a tangible reminder of the intensity and spectacle of the U.A. Sports Festival.

Instead of heading directly to the stands, you decided to make a detour. A thought had been simmering in the back of your mind, urging you to check in on someone else preparing for his battle. Turning down a quieter corridor, you made your way towards Bakugo's waiting room. The muffled sounds of the ongoing fight between Tokoyami and Yaoyorozu filtered through the walls, a reminder of the relentless pace of the tournament.

You reached the door, noticing a small TV mounted on the wall inside, showcasing the current fight. Without hesitation, you pushed it open slightly, causing the door to creak. Bakugo's head snapped up, a snarl already forming on his lips. "I said I didn't want anyone bothering me—" His sentence abruptly cut off as he saw it was you standing there.

A brow arched, you let a smile tug at your lips. "Oh? Should I return later?"

For a moment, Bakugo's expression softened, and he quickly stood, a mix of surprise and something else flickering across his features. "Y/N," he said softly, your name a contrast to his usual gruff tone.

You stepped inside, letting the door close behind you. "I was just stopping by to see how you were faring so far," you said, your gaze steady on his.

Bakugo's jaw tightened, and he was silent for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if he were gathering his thoughts. "I'm gonna win," he finally said, his voice low but resolute. "But I want you to advance to the final round."

You blinked, tilting your head slightly. "And why would I do that?"

"Because I wanna fight you," he blurted out, the words hanging in the air between you. The proclamation seemed to take both of you by surprise, and your brows raised in unison.

"Who knew you had it out for me," you replied, your tone light but your eyes searching his face for deeper meaning.

Bakugo rolled his eyes, a grunt of frustration escaping him. "It's not that," he muttered, his gaze darting away. "It's just..."

You leaned forward slightly, prompting him. "Just what?"

For a moment, Bakugo's eyes met yours, a turbulent mix of emotions swirling within them. His mind raced, a thousand thoughts tumbling over each other. Internally, he struggled with the desire to prove his strength to you, to show that he could be someone you could rely on, someone strong enough to protect you. But the words tangled in his throat, refusing to form.

Instead, he scoffed, the sound more of a deflection than an answer. "Just wanna see how strong you really are," he grumbled, the excuse hanging weakly between you.

Before you could respond, the small TV in the upper corner caught your attention. Present Mic's voice boomed from the screen, announcing the end of the current match. "[Tokoyami Fumikage takes the win! Up next, it's the battle of steel vs. stone: Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu versus Kirishima Eijiro! Stay tuned, folks!]"

The fight on the screen transitioned to show Tetsutetsu and Kirishima entering the arena, their faces set with determination.

Realizing the conversation had run its course, you turned towards the door. "Good luck with your match," you said over your shoulder.

Bakugo scoffed again, his bravado slipping back into place like a well-worn mask. "Not worried about Round-Face," he muttered, his tone dismissive.

You paused at the doorway, casting a glance back at him. "You should be," you said, your voice carrying a quiet warning. With that, you slipped out, the door clicking softly shut behind you.

As you left Bakugo's room, the air seemed to crackle with the anticipation of the upcoming battles. The faint sounds of the stadium crowd echoed through the hallways, a constant reminder of the spectacle unfolding just outside. Your steps were steady as you made your way back to your class section, a mixture of determination and contemplation playing across your mind.

You were only a few steps away from the arena entrance when a familiar voice stopped you in your tracks. "Akuma-san," Todoroki called out, his tone calm yet insistent. You turned to find him standing a short distance away, his expression serious.

"Yes?" you replied, arching an eyebrow. His demeanor was different, more introspective than usual.

"Could we speak for a moment?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for any sign of objection.

Intrigued, you nodded and followed him as he led you to a large glass window that overlooked a portion of the stadium-lobby. Below, hundreds of citizens milled about, buying merchandise and food, their faces lit up with excitement.

Yet you stared down at the crowd, a dark cloud of disdain crept into your thoughts. They looked like tiny, insignificant ants. 

The stark difference between these humans and those you encountered in your previous life struck you with a jarring clarity. In that world, power and control were everything. Manipulations, grandiose battles, and the constant struggle for dominance defined your existence. Every interaction held weight, every move was a calculated step in a larger game. Here, in contrast, the crowd's self-righteousness and superficial concerns disgusted you.

They believed in their own moral superiority, convinced that their small acts of kindness or their adherence to social norms made them good, just, worthy. They viewed themselves as heroes in their own right, clinging to a superficial sense of morality and justice. Yet, in their simplicity, they fail to see how their so-called righteousness are nothing more than a fragile façade, easily shattered by the cold, hard truths of power and influence.

Your musings were interrupted by Todoroki's voice, soft yet clear. "Akuma-san, I like to think of myself as an intelligent person," he began, his gaze fixed on the crowd below. "But it seems that everything becomes unintelligible when it comes to you."

You turned your head, curiosity piqued. "Pardon?" you asked, unsure of where he was leading.

Todoroki took a deep breath, his eyes reflecting a turmoil of emotions. "I've been thinking about what I told Midoriya earlier," he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of bitterness and resignation. "About my past, about my father... the hero... Endeavor. It's something I feel you should know too."

He paused, gathering his thoughts, before continuing. "My father... he's not just unpleasant. He's driven by a relentless obsession to surpass All Might and  views me as nothing but a tool to achieve that goal. My siblings—they're nothing but failures to him because they don't measure up to his standards. It's all been about grooming me to achieve what he couldn't."

Todoroki's eyes darkened as he continued, his hand unconsciously touching the scar on his left eye. "And my mother? She suffered greatly under his ambitions. The pressure, the constant demands and abuse—she couldn't handle it...and it broke her. I look like him, you see. Every time she saw the left side of my face—the fire I inherited from him—it reminded her of him...of everything she hated. One day, she snapped. She threw boiling water at me...said it was unsightly. That's how I got this scar."

He paused, the raw emotion in his voice a stark contrast to the stoic façade he usually maintained. "My father had her institutionalized. To him, she was just another obstacle. I grew up hating him, despising the fire side of my Quirk because it was his. I've spent my entire life trying to prove that I could be a hero without becoming him."

As Todoroki finished his story, you felt a hollow emptiness where empathy should have been. His words, dripping with a mix of self-pity and bitterness, left you cold. The tale of his troubled upbringing, designed perhaps to elicit sympathy, only reinforced your disdain for him. Todoroki, with his tragic backstory and internal turmoil, seemed to you one of the most pathetic individuals you had ever encountered.

A soft hum escaped your lips, and a sardonic smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. You turned to face him, your eyes gleaming with a harsh light. "For someone so intelligent," you began, your tone laced with mockery, "you have an awfully bad habit of oversharing personal and horrifyingly useful information one would think to keep private. It's a wonder you've managed to maintain such a mysterious persona." You could almost hear the echo of your peers' admiration for him, their awe and reverence for the troubled hero. If only they knew the full extent of his pitiful reality.

Todoroki's eyes widened slightly at your words, a flicker of confusion mingling with the anger already etched on his face. 

Your lips dropped from the semblance of a smile into a disgusted snarl. "Although you had such an unsavory upbringing, Midoriya was right about one thing," you continued, your voice sharp and unyielding. "It's an absolutely pitiful sight to see you allowing your father to win and have power over something that's yours. Your life, your choices—they belong to you. Yet here you are, shackled by his shadow, letting him dictate who you become."

Todoroki's gaze faltered, his expression a mix of shame and defensiveness, his hands curling into fists at his sides. His anger simmered just beneath the surface, his composure cracking under the weight of your unrelenting critique. His anger, however, was not just from the truth of your words but from the familiarity of their tone.

You, with your overbearing harshness and cutting remarks, reminded him too much of his father—Endeavor's relentless drive, his unyielding standards, and his crushing expectations. But you weren't done yet.

You took a step closer, your presence towering over him. "Of course," you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm, "you can always go on this woe-is-me journey of limiting yourself. Continue rejecting your fire, the very power that makes you whole, just to spite your father. It's quite amusing, really—watching you cripple yourself for the sake of some misguided vendetta."

Todoroki's anger flared, his eyes narrowing as he tried to hold back a retort. His frustration was palpable, mingling with the pain your words inflicted. Yet he remained silent, the truth of your accusations sinking in despite his instinctive resistance. He despised the harshness of your approach, the way you mirrored his father's brutal honesty, but he couldn't entirely dismiss the validity of your perspective.

You leaned in, your eyes locking onto his, forcing him to confront the harsh truth of your words. "Though, what's truly even more pathetic," you continued, your voice lowering to a dangerous whisper, "is how you wear this victimhood like a badge of honor. You've let him win every time you hold back, every time you refuse to use your full potential. And for what? Some semblance of moral high ground? You're a fool, Todoroki. A pitiful fool clinging to a righteous delusion."

Todoroki's face contorted further, his internal conflict evident in the tightening of his jaw and the hardening of his gaze. Before he could gather his thoughts or mount a defense, Present Mic's voice boomed through the stadium, breaking the tension. "[And we have a draw! The battle between Tetsutetsu and Kirishima ends in a tie! Up next, it's Bakugo Katsuki versus Uraraka Ochaco! Get ready for a showdown!]"

The announcement echoed around you, the festival's energy seeping back into the moment. You stepped back, a charming grin spreading across your face. "Well, that's my cue," you said, your tone suddenly light, "Must be off to support. Do try to think about what I said, Todoroki-kun. Good luck, next round." As you made your way back to your class's section, you felt a surge of anticipation for the upcoming fight between Bakugo and Uraraka.

A/N: wheewww! 7.5k DONE! anyways, sorry for the little wait, these doubles at work been kicking my ass so i decided to update while i have time on my day off 😩. anywhooo, hope you all enjoyed this chapter, don't judge me too bad for the horrible action /fightring portion, i tired my best lolololo. the next three rounds will all be in 1 chappie, so it can be  long like this one. see you all next update. ❤️❤️

[qqueenofhades]

May I ask about prompts 14 and 38 for Dreamling, perhaps?

Dr. Robert Gadling presently has ninety-nine problems, and students who cannot read the module handbook are, at a minimum, ninety-eight of them. (How did they finish school? Take their GCSEs or A-Levels, any of it, while being functionally illiterate? Etc. etc. dismal condition of British state education and indeed the entire British state under the Tories, but still.) He has just fired off a hopefully polite-sounding group email advising everyone to please have a proper look at the posted content before sending him individual queries, when there's a knock on his door and he glances up, grateful for the distraction. "Yeah?"

"Rob?" It's Philippa, again, which makes his heart sink on reflex. They've already had several serious conversations intended to make him consider the possibility of becoming Head of School when her term's up next May, and -- frankly, over his dead body, which in his case is not at all a metaphor. It turns out, however, that she's not here to harass him to take on more professional responsibility, but rather to attend to his personal life. "Your boyfriend's skulking in the foyer and frightening the freshers again. Make him knock it off."

"My boyfr -- ?" Yeah, yeah, all right, the gentleman doth protest too much. Hob hasn't felt up to taking Dream to any faculty functions just yet, but he did tell Amira the other evening at the welcome-back mixer that he was seeing someone, and the news must have spread as fast as any other juicy department gossip. Hob sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Right. Thanks, Philippa. I'll tell him off."

With that, not sad to get away from the horror of his inbox, Hob pushes back his chair and gets to his feet, trotting out his office door and down the stairs. Even before he descends into sight of the foyer, he can tell where the problem is located. Dream is standing spookily just inside the door, in full goth-black, long-coat, pale-faced, looming-in-your-nightmares splendor, and students are indeed outright sprinting to get past him. Others seem to think he's some weird piece of performance art from the theatre department and are asking for selfies, which makes him stare at them even more. Hob swallows a groan, speeds up, and reaches the ground floor. "Oy," he hisses at the unrepentant King of Dreams. "What are you doing here?"

As per fucking usual, Morpheus haughtily disdains to provide a sensible answer (or indeed, any answer). Hob adores the skinny eldritch weirdo, he really does, but one problem he did not foresee now that they're officially an item is that Dream has gotten downright clingy. After going a hundred years between seeing each other, with each of those meetings usually ending in disaster, Hob's still getting used to the idea of seeing him regularly -- weekly, even. It's not like he minds. Variety is the spice of immortal life, and all that. But it does mean that they need to have a few conversations about boundaries, and this is definitely one of them.

"I'm busy," Hob says, doing his best to sound stern. "I've got work to do, love. Like we do in the human world, eh? Can't all sit around in magical throne rooms, brood, and spin magical stories."

Dream looks miffed at this lightweight estimation of his professional duties. He opens his mouth for some sort of pompous reprimand, but Hob holds up a hand. "Be back at five PM and save me from the emails, and we can jog off together somewhere, all right? But not until then. And stop scaring the students, or Philippa will have my head. Or make me be the Head, and I'm not sure which one's worse."

Dream once more appears about to object -- he still hasn't gotten in a word edgewise, which is probably for the best. But Hob looks furtively in either direction, then kisses Dream on the cheek, spins him around, and propels him out the exit, whereupon he looks very much like an extremely ruffled bird -- raven, probably, which Matthew is bound to find amusing. Mother of God, Hob's life is strange.

Biting a smile despite himself, he trudges back upstairs and dutifully applies himself to the remainder of the paperwork and otherwise makes sure that everything is in order. Then at 5:04pm, he gets up, grabs his things, and heads back downstairs, where Morpheus is waiting for him. "You are," he announces stiffly, "late."

"Only by four minutes. Pretty sure the world won't end." Hob grins crookedly. "Eager to see me, then?"

Morpheus, of course, cannot countenance actually saying this aloud, but it doesn't matter. He holds out his hand, Hob decides he doesn't care who sees him take it, and does so. Then all at once, the familiar surroundings of the Department of History stretch and ripple and fade away, and the next instant, they're not there at all, or London, or Earth. They're here, in Morpheus's home. The Dreaming.

As usual, the place looks eerie, magical, mystical, and lovely, and Hob is getting somewhat more used to the abrupt transition between worlds, so he only swallows hard a few times and then is good to go. They ascend to the castle, he and Lucienne greet each other warmly, and then Morpheus jealously squires him up to his rooms at the top of the tower, beneath the vast dome. The great bed is a temptation, and doubtless they will end up there before too long, but a supper is already laid, glimmering in the fey candles, and Hob blows out a relieved breath. "Could eat an ox. You're a lifesaver, darling."

Morpheus looks the usual blend of awkward and pleased he always does when Hob casually uses endearments or expresses affection. "Does this make up for me alarming your pupils, then?"

"More 'n." Hob sinks into the chair and tries not to wolf down everything in sight. "But still. Don't do it again."

They eat (here in his own realm, in his own stuff, Morpheus eats too). They drink, they talk. It's like old times, and more. Afterward, they go outside to gaze at the stars, a thousand times brighter and more brilliant than anything on Earth, and Morpheus's tousled dark head sinks slowly onto Hob's shoulder, like a feral cat finally becoming close enough with one trusted person to let itself be petted, let itself be loved. Hob bites another smile, this one unspeakably tender, and leans in to kiss Dream's hair. Aye, his life is bloody strange, and it always has been. But he would not trade it for the world.

[avocado-writing]

Now I’m not saying ‘sexytime roleplay where aristo princeling Aziraphale has to somehow persuade reader/Crowley/both to help smuggle him across the border’ but…

Basically, Aziraphale in his 1793 outfit, being sensually undressed, and seducing his partner(s) while getting humiliated a little? If you feel like it ofc, your writing gives me life !

notes: once again absolute smut. this outfit drives me insane. costume designers you know what you did. thank you to my friend M who pretty much wrote the lil Crowley monologue at the start of this fic, couldn't have done this without you!

pairing: aziraphale x reader x crowley

rating: E, minors dni

words: 2.2k

tags: roleplay (humiliation; degradation; dirty talk; dubcon); aftercare; TLTDATSIB-verse

Overall, when you think about this situation, there are two things that you’re quite certain of.

The first one is this: Aziraphale likes to be rescued. It’s why he’s always getting himself in silly little situations. Usually it’s Crowley that has to do the actual rescuing, given that he’s a demon with otherworldly powers and all, but you’ve been known to distract a guard or lift a key. Bust down a wall with a battering ram. Helpful little things like that. 

In the aftermath Aziraphale is always very pleased and finds ways to make it up to you both later, so there’s never any complaining. 

The second thing you know is that after all these years you can still discover things about yourselves and about each other. It’s always lovely to start a sentence with, ‘oh, I didn’t know that…!” You find new little ways to fall in love with them over and over again.

You’ve just made the tea, and put Aziraphale’s down on the desk next to him. He thanks you the usual way but doesn’t look up from the book in his hands, so when he reaches over to pick it up he instead knocks the mug over and spills the hot liquid all over his lap.

“Aziraphale!”

His head snaps up. He’s barely aware of the situation at all. You imagine his corporeal form isn’t hurt by little things like these, but your natural reaction is to worry; get a little bit panicked.

“What are you doing? You need to watch out! You could really hurt yourself if you’re not paying attention, don’t be so silly!”

Aziraphale is looking at you, but he seems to have gone a bit glossy-eyed as you dress him down. Mouth agape a little. You know this look.

This is how he looks when he’s turned on.

“Aziraphale?”

“Hmm? Sorry, yes darling, I’ll be more careful,” he mutters, miracling the spill away. Across the shop floor you lock eyes with Crowley. Yes. He noticed that too. 

The two of you silently agree to address this with him later. So, that night, with a couple of bottles of merlot between you, Crowley turns to your husband and says, as easily as if he’s discussing the weather:

“So, angel, it seems you really enjoyed being told off earlier.”

Aziraphale chokes on his wine. Ah. Got him. 

“It’s alright if it’s true,” you tell him, running a hand up his leg. “You just need to say.”

“I… I…”

“It occurs to me,” Crowley begins, sitting back in his seat as if he’s about to say something very astute, “that when you get captured, it can’t all be for our benefit. Maybe you enjoy it before we even get there to carry out a daring escape. You like being somewhere you’re not supposed to be and being punished for it, don’t you? Do you like being treated a little rough?”

And there’s that look again: eyes glassed over, pink tongue darting out to lick his lips. 

“Go on Aziraphale, you can tell us. We can be very accommodating.”

“Yes,” he manages, pupils blown wide as you walk your fingers up his chest. 

You and Crowley exchange a grin. 

The three of you don’t roleplay a lot. You’re happy enough with each other as it is, there’s not usually a need to bring the fantasy element into it - but variety is the spice of life and after floating a few scenarios this is the one you eventually agreed to. It really happened, actually. You can still remember the guard you knocked over the head to clear the way for your lovers’ escape. Ahh, fond memories.

You have some clothes still kicking around from then too, so a little bit of searching your wardrobe really meant you could get into character. Aziraphale and Crowley get to cheat by just manifesting whatever they fancy wearing. You feel they get off a bit easily.

Well, they will by the time we’re done, a devilish voice in your head pipes up. 

Crowley has really gone the whole nine yards for this, though. Clearly he wants all parties involved to enjoy it to maximum effect, and so when the two of you step into the bedroom it’s no longer a bedroom, in fact it looks exactly like a dungeon where your poor angel has been imprisoned before. His curls sit neatly styled on his head as he wears his pretty little aristocrat outfit, the one that did things to you back in the day and still does things to you now. His wrists are shackled and he looks up at you both with the most pathetic little gaze.

You swallow. You’re going to enjoy this.

“Well, well, well,” Crowley says, wasting no time before getting into character, “look what we’ve got here. Some lost little rich boy who got caught by the wrong people, eh?”

Aziraphale shifts in his seat. Already he’s affected; eyes soft and mouth slack. He tugs uselessly at his restraints and looks very pitiful indeed.

“Please let me go,” he whispers, encapturing the role of a feeble little captive perfectly. You and Crowley exchange a look, lit by a hot undercurrent of lust.

“Why would we do that?”

“I can reward you. Very handsomely. My family –”

“We don’t care about your family,” you laugh, cruelly, and he flinches. You close the gap and take his face in your hand roughly, forcing him to look up at you. “We only care about seeing your pretty little head in a basket. Look at you. Pathetic, aren’t you?”

The ardour in Aziraphale’s eyes is evident: his pupils have blown wide, engulfing the beautiful colour of his irises. You can see his trousers tighten and he has to adjust himself.

“Yes. Yes, I am,” he agrees. You grin down at him.

“And what would you do, hmm? To get us to help you? Smuggle you back on a ship on its way to merry old England, where you’ll be safe?”

“Pay.” His voice is breathy now, strained as he looks up into your eyes. You press your calf more firmly between his legs and, almost without realising, he begins to rut up against you. He’s already fully hard. 

You didn’t realise how much he wanted this. If you had, you and Crowley might have indulged him earlier.

“Pay with what?” Crowley echoes. He sounds stern but you know him well enough to hear the reediness in his words. He’s probably half-mast too.

Aziraphale doesn’t answer, just rubs into your leg a bit more.

“With your body, you pretty pathetic thing?”

He moans, actually moans, and nods.

“Look at you. Fucking up against me like a dog. Is that what you are, hmm? Some piteous little mutt?”

He makes a noise of affirmation. You can see a wet spot appearing at the front of his trousers where his precome floods him.

“Say it.”

“I’m a dog,” he whines. You shoot Crowley a grin. The demon, for what it’s worth, seems to have become a captive audience to the scene of Aziraphale trying to get off using just the pressure he can create. A stamp of your foot stops both Aziraphale in his attempts and brings Crowley back to the moment.

“If you want to be free so badly, show me what you’re willing to do. Suck his cock.”

Aziraphale looks over to Crowley and, without missing a beat, lets his mouth fall open. It’s like a magnet to your husband who closes the gap immediately and, with some fiddling with the buttons on his fly, frees his rock-hard member and presses the blunt head of it against the angel’s tongue, who takes no time in swallowing it down.

You don’t move from your place between Aziraphale’s spread thighs. In fact, you shove your leg between them even harder and he understands what you want, continuing to try and get himself off. His head is twisted at an almost painful angle to be able to fellate Crowley at the same time as desperately humping you, and you can see the tears prick in his eyes.

You consider asking for a moment if he’s alright, but know if he needed to tap out, he’d let you both know. This is about humiliating him after all. And you really want to play your part properly.

Hungrily you watch the sight of Aziraphale swallowing down Crowley’s cock. God, he is magnificent at taking a dick. You can see spit drip over his lips as he tongues at the slit, his eyes rolling back in pleasure at being used. Crowley’s hand come to tangle in his soft curls as he fucks into the angel’s mouth and hits the back of his throat over and over. You’re taken in by it too, and in the heat of the moment find yourself ensnaring Crowley in a delicious kiss. Your husband kisses you back leisurely and lovingly. You know he’s enjoying both of his spouses to the fullest. Aziraphale gags and finally the tears spill, hot streaks staining his pretty roseate cheeks. 

“Pathetic,” you say, lovingly, adoringly. Aziraphale’s thrusts up against your leg are beginning to get a bit sloppy now, you know he’s close to coming; you extract yourself and turn sharply to Crowley.

“Stop. We can get more use out of him. I want to see you fuck him in front of me.”

You make quick work of your clothes. Usually you’d relish undressing for them, put on a show, but tonight is all about satisfaction. Lying on the floor you open your legs, gesturing Aziraphale to between them.

“Come on, you wretched thing. Show me what else you can do.”

Aziraphale moans and falls to his knees before crawling over to you. His mouth leaves Crowley with a very sultry little pop, spit still covering his face, lips fucked open and red. As he gets into position between your thighs Crowley kneels behind him, making short work of his dress breeches and brings them down to his ankles, around his heels. You position yourself propped up on your elbows so you can look over Aziraphale’s back as Crowley presses into him, not giving him the kindness of a warmup but knowing that Aziraphale will be able to take it anyway. His heavenly body can stretch and adjust with more ease than a human’s.

Your blond-haired husband looks up at you with deference and just a tinge of fear which goes right to the pit of your belly. He kisses your thighs sloppily, working his way inwards before he presses his mouth to you properly; attentive and thorough to your sex. 

Crowley begins to fuck him, hard and rough without any care for his well-being - exactly how Aziraphale wants it. You hear him moan around you as he uses his tongue to satiate you, every time Crowley thrusts he’s pushed harder against your body. Crowley is essentially fucking you through him. It’s an entirely filthy thought that has you panting as you feel yourself begin to crest. You didn’t realise how taken you were with this scenario until Aziraphale began his ministrations, and now you’re just as caught up in it as your husbands are.

“That’s it… fuck, look at you, splayed out between us like the whore you are… are you going to come on his cock, you pathetic little thing? Debase yourself like that? Are you going to swallow me down too?”

Aziraphale pushes his face even harder into you, his nose brushing against your tight curls there; Crowley’s thrusts begin to get erratic; all three of you are close. You grip the angel’s hair so hard he shrieks in pleasure, and it’s enough to get him to spend all over the floor. Crowley comes inside him with a bitten-off snarl, his hands digging into the softness of Aziraphale’s hips so hard they’d leave bruises were he a human; and you release in the angel’s mouth after a particularly dexterous lick. The combined sound of your orgasms shatters whatever hold Crowley had on the manifestation of the situation, and suddenly you’re all back in the bedroom, sweating and gasping and replete.

“Aziraphale,” you manage as you catch your breath, “are you alright, my darling?”

Aziraphale has collapsed into a giddy pile onto the carpet. He nods and hums, blissed-out, and you bring his head to lay in your lap as you stroke his curls.

“You did so well. Fuck, you’re wonderful.”

Aziraphale turns to look at you and reaches up to caress your face with a shaking hand. You press a kiss into his palm and look over to Crowley who’s gathering himself as well, serpentine eyes full of adoration at the image of the two of you embracing.

“I’m going to go and get some water. Keep him there, will you? I don’t want him discorporating from lack of aftercare.” Normally you’d engage in some light banter, but you’re so tired you let this sentence sit as fact.

“Yes my love,” you tell Crowley, accepting the kiss he offers you, and watching him saunter away. Lord. You could watch that demon for hours.

Heaven might be above, but right now, it’s entirely located in your bedroom in a townhouse in West London.

taglist: @angiestopit @dazed-soul  @foolishprincipalitee @smile-eywa @staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @specter-soltare @candlewitch-cryptic @cool-ontherun-world @emilynissangtr @willbedecided @bdffkierenwalker @cool-iguana @ilyatan @civil-groupie @willyoubethepookietomypookster @lxsm2 @clarina04 @wtfhasmy-lifecometo @mrgatotortuga @wereallbrokenangels @silcosmoke @kimqueenofhell @chewbrry @night-affiliate @bajablast23 @h3k3t @am-i-obsessed---maybe

[edges-of-night]

Hey! I love your hc’s and was wondering if I could request for how the members of the fellowship react to aphrodisiacs?

If you don’t want to do this or think it’s odd that’s totally fine; but I find the trope of “sex pollen” or things along those lines fun

Ik this is anon but I swear on everything I am 21 lol

Indeed a fun idea, nonnie! I think this is the first NSFW request on this blog too, so I couldn’t let it slide 👀 Enjoy!

Heads-up: Aphrodisiac/sex pollen tropes might entail dubcon. While there is no explicit dubcon or noncon in this post, please proceed with care if the topic is sensitive for you.

.

･ﾟ✧ Aragorn.

As a ranger, Aragorn is well-versed with herbs and flowers that can serve as an aphrodisiac or be turned into one. He is very particular with which ones to use and not really interested in “store-bought” variants. Elven knowledge is quite helpful regarding making his own aphrodisiacs for the two of you; he prefers to only use them on special occasions. Since the topic is delicate for many Humans, Aragorn prefers to keep them a secret between you two – after all, this is about intimacy ♡

Reaction: like a power surge, short but sweet

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･ﾟ✧ Boromir.

Since there is a sort of taboo around aphrodisiacs in Gondor, Boromir is quite excited to learn more about them when you suggest them for your sex life. He is so curious and eager about them that he ends up wondering why someone wouldn’t use them to give a special spice and magic to their trysts – especially considering the immense variety of flavours and scents. That said, Boromir always has your comfort as his top priority, so he would not pressure you into anything you wouldn’t want to do. To you, he’s nothing but a gentleman!

Reaction: strong, to the point of exhaustion once the effects wear off

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･ﾟ✧ Frodo.

Hobbits value aphrodisiacs as much as smoking, drinking, dancing, and other hedonistic aspects of their culture, and Frodo is no different – though maybe a bit more distinguished than other Hobbits. He has a small collection of fancy little phials and is open to using them should you desire so anytime. All of them have pleasant scents and tastes, like strawberries or jasmine. Frodo in general is very normal about sexual experimentation and always communicates clearly so that the two of you are sure to have a good time ♡

Reaction: mild to normal

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･ﾟ✧ Gandalf.

While other Wizards might think of aphrodisiacs as a poor use of magic for mere “petty-minded fooling around” (I am looking at Saruman), I think Gandalf’s playful nature and his contact to Hobbit culture would make him want to indulge in the occasional aphrodisiac from time to time, be it in the form of herbs, potions, spells, or items. On top of that, he would use magic to create certain illusions or sensations to make you feel good. He doesn’t have limitless curiosity though, and he would not speak about this to anyone but you.

Reaction: none to mild, depending on the sort

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･ﾟ✧ Gimli.

For years, Gimli has been convinced that he has no need or want for aphrodisiacs in his love life. So perhaps, when you first suggest using them for the two of you, he would not really know what to say. However, I figure he would be open to trying them out when you ask him, too. Not only that: Dwarves have brilliant ingenuity and dexterity, so maybe Gimli would come up with a new aphrodisiac entirely catering to your personal needs and/or kinks, perhaps even in the form of a magic-induced gem.

Reaction: mostly prolonged stamina, normal

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･ﾟ✧ Legolas.

Not only do I headcanon the Elves as entirely open to sexual experimentation with toys and kinks – they even take a certain pride in it. They are at the forefront when it comes to aphrodisiacs, and Legolas is no different. He has a few staples in his collection that have become his personal trustful companions over the years, like magic-induced flowers and candles, and is eager to try out whatever you bring into your bedroom as well. He would answer any questions of yours regarding the aphrodisiacs in his “Lembas voice”: proud of the Elvish traditions but still casual.

Reaction: very strong, since he is already so passionate

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･ﾟ✧ Merry.

While Merry doesn’t keep any aphrodisiacs for himself, he has no inhibitions to trying something out when you suggest it. I like the idea that they could help him let himself fall and really enjoy sex, since Merry tends to be controlled by his head instead of his emotions, or even aspires to be more of a “thinking type”. Aphrodisiacs could provide him with the opportunity of rawness and freedom in a way he hasn’t known before – and I think he would enjoy that very much ♡

Reaction: strong and freeing

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･ﾟ✧ Pippin.

Growing up in Hobbit culture, Pippin is used to aphrodisiacs – or at least talking about them. He has at least once fallen prey to swindlers who convinced him of spending lots of money on some much-praised herb, only to find out later it doesn’t do anything (other than smelling nice). Pippin would also experiment a lot with what works for the two of you and what doesn’t, and always voice clearly if something wasn’t for him. Perhaps he would brag about his newest discovery with other Hobbits – if only to get another tip in return.

Reaction: physically little, but boosted mentally

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･ﾟ✧ Sam.

I don’t think Sam would enjoy aphrodisiacs very much – for a couple of personal reasons, ranging from “It’s just that I’ve yet to find one that doesn’t taste like stale biscuits” to “It wouldn’t feel right, y’know?”. Sam is a big romantic and proud to always provide you with the right mood by preparing candles, nice pillows, maybe a fireplace on cold nights, or even starlit trysts in a sunflower field, to name a few examples. I think he would nip at your favourite potion just to have tried it once but still be fine with you calling him old-fashioned. After all, this is about having a good time!

Reaction: none

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･ﾟ✧ Bonus: Haldir.

I’m including Haldir in this one because I have a random headcanon of him being comically scared of aphrodisiacs haha! After all, they might expose his buried feelings that he works so hard to hide, almost like a truth serum. I also imagine he would expect such a potion/flower/herb to taste nasty, smell funny, and just all around not be for him. But as written above, I imagine the Elves to be very open to sexual experimentation, so dear Haldir would be a “prude” in their eyes. You can read more about my headcanons on him on this older NSFW post.

Reaction: that's a secret! 😉

[the-offside-rule]

Mick Schumacher (Mercedes AMG) - A Coffee and a Miracle

Day 18 of Christmas

In a small town, amidst the festive glow of Christmas lights, Mick found himself drawn to the cozy warmth of his local coffee shop. Y/n, the barista with a perpetual smile, always served him his usual. However, lately, Mick's visits had become more frequent. While he used to show up maybe once or twice a week, he found himself almost having to go to the coffee shop on the off-chance that Y/n was working and in a way, he found it somewhat pathetic of himself.

One chilly December morning, as Mick had just come back from his daily jog and approached the counter, he mustered the courage to break the routine. "Oh, Hi Mick. The usual?" Y/n smiled already grabbing the medium cup and writing his name on it. "You know, I've been thinking," he began with a playful grin. "I'm starting to wonder if I should change my usual order or if I should just ask you out instead."

Y/n chuckled, her eyes sparkling. "Well, variety is the spice of life, they say. But asking me out might be more interesting." The jokes continued as Mick stood with his hands in his pockets, talking about what he had done since the last time he saw her (which is pathetically two days ago) while Y/n stood behind the counter making his coffee. Finally, the coffee was made and he simply thanked her. "So?" He asked. "How about it? A date I mean." Y/n looked up at him. "Ask me closer to Christmas and maybe when there isn't a huge line behind you." Mick turned and saw the line of impatient customers all looking to order their seasonal coffees. Mick turned back around to face Y/n. "I will. Don't you worry about it."

On a snowy evening closer to Christmas (just as Y/n had asked) Mick decided it was time to take the plunge. With a cup of steaming hot coffee in hand, he leaned on the counter and said, "You know, spending time here with you has become the highlight of my day. How about you answer me this time and grab dinner sometime?"

Y/n's face lit up with a radiant smile. "And here I was thinking you were just coming here for the coffee." Y/n joked. Mick grinned and lifted the cup to take another sip. "Well, the coffee's great, but it's the company that makes it special."

"Smooth." She replied. "So when are you free?" Y/n pointed at his cup. "If you look at the bottom, my number is there. We can text about this later." Mick lifted the cup and smiled to see various numbers written on the bottom just as Y/n said there would be. "I look forward to it." Mick said, before they bid their farewells and started another chapter into their relationship.