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waves-against-a-cliff · 3 months ago

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After the end - Post-apocalypse Omegaverse AU

Summary - The first shot is fired. While you come up with a plan to confuse and bait these four alphas, they come up with their own strategy.

Tags - Omegaverse (duh), alpha/beta/omega dynamics, non traditional dynamics, all of the 141 are alphas, you're an omega. Eventual smut, dub-con, knotting, mating press, polyamory, alphas love alphas. 141 x reader. Omega has a shotgun, I REPEAT, Omega has a shotgun. Mentions of violence.

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2

You looked at the four men with wide eyes and they stared back at you with equally wide ones as well. Your finger moved to the trigger of the shotgun and the one with a scraggly mohawk stepped forward. You growled without even meaning to and he hesitated. "Come on Bonnie, drop tae shotgun," he tried to negotiate but you snarled at him.

"Get the fuck out of my woods," you replied, snarling so hard spit flies from your mouth. You pointed the shotgun at the four of them but mostly focused on the Scottish brute in front of you, "Or I'll kill you."

A nasty smile crossed his face, feral and unnatural. "Oh ye wouldnae. You're just a little omega," he cooed and you pulled the trigger. The kick is a little more than you expected and you're pushed flat on your back from the kick. You the blast heard echo through the woods and your ears are ringing. Behind the ringing you hear curses and you looked to see the Scottish alpha on the ground clutching his shoulder with a dark look in his eyes.

His three other alpha packmates gathered around him, fretting over his wound and so you took the chance to get onto your feet and get away. "She's gettin' away!" You heard another shout and then more curses. You assumed that one fell into the hole you had covered up. You hoped he enjoys the wooden spikes.

You huffed and puffed after a while, your breathing fogging the air around you. The winter chill had made your nose hurt and your fingers were stiff. You rubbed them together to try and gather some heat in them. You shakily reloaded the shotgun, putting the spent shotgun shell into your pocket.

You don't need anymore tracks leading them to you.

You can't help but wonder how they figured it out. How they knew someone was still lingering around this long forgotten small town. You racked your brain for the answer as you kept walking, snow crunching under your well worn boots.

You thought back to a few days ago, the last time you had been in for resupply. You had noticed one of your traps had been triggered. The false floor in a building had collapsed underneath the weight of someone. You checked it and found a very big, unnaturally big, beta. He was already dead, he was wearing a T-shirt as a mask of all things. It had taken a lot of effort to get him from the pit, you'd had to grab your old jeep, rarely used except for times like these when you needed to haul something big.

In this case, a tall T-shirt mask wearing beta.

You had cut yourself on a shard of glass picking him up and loading him into the back. You hadn't even thought about it when you wiped your hand on the wooden pole. "Fucking stupid," you whispered to yourself. Carelessness.

After all this time it was carelessness that had gotten you at last.

Then it gave you an idea. If they were able to track your scent using blood...

You grabbed your pocket knife and looked at it, the idea of the perfect trap starting in your mind.

"Fuckin' bitch," Soap hissed from between clenched teeth. The shotgun blast had barely grazed his shoulder but it still hurt like a massive bitch. "She actually shot tae damn thing."

Gaz scoffed as he wrapped his mild puncture wound, the wooden stakes at the bottom not sharpened enough to do any real damage. "That's what you get for provoking," he replied as he stood up.

"I was not provoking!" Soap said and Gaz rolled his eyes.

"Shut it you two," Price finally snapped as he pinched the bridge of his nose using his index and thumb. Gaz had been right, there was an omega running around in this forest still. The issue was now that not only did she know that they were here but that she had known before hand.

"How's Soaps shoulder?" Price asked Ghost, who had a stronger bond with Soap. It was natural. Price was more bonded with Gaz and he could feel his inner alpha snarling and pacing that he was hurt.

"It'll be fine. Luckily the shot mostly missed," Ghost replied gruffly. Price turned to his pack and looked over them.

"What do you think Ghost?"

"I think she has more 'f these traps laid out through the forest," he replied, his shoulders tensed at the idea of having to navigate an entirely booby trapped forest.

"Did you hear what she said?" Gaz asked and Price raised a brow.

"Yes Kyle, what of it?"

"She referred to this place as her woods."

"What of it?" Soap snapped and Gaz glared at his fellow sergeant.

"This is her territory," Gaz finally finished and everyone gave him a skeptical look.

"Omegas don't have territory," Soap responded, "they aren't built like that."

Gaz rolled his eyes. Out of everyone within the pack, Gaz might be the most versed on how omegas operated with Ghost not far behind him. "Even if this is her territory," Price said and even he sounded skeptical, "there's still an easy solution."

Ghost looked at his captain, his stomach churned at what he was about to say. He knew what he would say. They could scruff her.

"We just have to get close." Price said and Soap huffed out a laugh.

"Damn thing is fuckin' feral. We aren't gettin' through these woods without a few more scratches."

"So you're willin' to give up a ripe omega?" Gaz challenged and Soap shook his head.

"I didnae say that."

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yandere-daydreams · 4 months ago

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Title: Love and Care.

Pairing: Yandere!Clark Kent x Reader (DC).

Word Count: 4.0k.

Commissioned by the very lovely @distortedhumor.

TW: Non/Con, AFAB!Reader, Prolonged Captivity + Kidnapping, Spanking, Psychological/Physical Abuse, Slight Infantilization, and Delusional Behavior.

You were going to freeze to death.

That was – if you didn’t die of dehydration, first. You really weren’t sure which was supposed to work faster; thirst or exposure, the acidic dryness crawling up the back of your throat or the slow, numbing chill spreading up from your toes, your fingertips. You didn’t have to worry about hunger – even if you could feel something sharp and hollow gnawing at the pit of your stomach. You remembered reading somewhere that it took longer than a month for someone to starve to death, even if it was hard to believe that when it felt like you were on the verge of collapsing into yourself.

It wasn’t that you hadn’t been prepared. Admittedly, it’d been an impulsive thing to do, the half-baked result of a door left unlocked and the daunting awareness that you had at least twelve hours before you so much as heard from Clark again, if not the full twenty-four. You didn’t have shoes more durable than house-slippers and the delicate, lovingly polished, Mary Jane heels he liked to see you in, but you’d put on your thickest dress, stuffed a bottle of water and a few slices of homemade bread into knapsack, and started walking into the lifeless, rolling plains that surrounded the rustic farmhouse he kept you in. You didn’t run – he always seemed to know if your heart rate spiked– but you had all day to walk until you found a road, or a phone booth, or anything else that could at least remind you that other people existed. You figured you’d come across something eventually, even if you couldn’t find the help you were looking for.

Except, you’d underestimated just how cold the countryside could get in autumn, and you hadn’t thought to ration your meager supplies until after they’d already run out, and as far as you could tell, he’d found the most vacant, lifeless, desolate corner of the world to trap you within. The hem of your skirt was caked with mud and dust, your knapsack had been left behind entirely after you realized there was no point in carrying and empty bag, and one of your heels had broken off about two miles back – leaving you reduced to a slow, hobbling limp. Your body was exhausted beyond exhaustion, but you couldn’t imagine a world where you stopped walking. The only thing worse than knowing you were going to freeze to death in the middle of nowhere would be knowing that you’d just laid down and accepted it, and if you’d been willing to do that, you wouldn’t have run away at—

Your foot caught on a dense patch of undergrowth, and too tired to catch yourself, you crumpled – your knees hitting the earth with enough force to make you whimper. The last of your perseverance crashed and shattered as soon as you hit the ground, and before you could so much as try to stand up, you fell apart completely. You felt the tears before you realized you were crying – just one, at first, then another, then more than you could ever hope to count. You threw your head forward, sniffling miserably as you collapsed onto your side. You were going to die out here, but…

But, that was probably for the best, wasn’t it? It was either die out here, or die in that lonely farmhouse when Clark finally lost his temper or the roof collapsed or the ‘villains’ he was also so worried about finally did their job and put you out of your fucking misery. With a full-fledged sob, you curled into yourself and clenched your eyes shut, and—

And of course, less than a full second later, you felt a pair of muscle-bound arms your crumpled form, sweeping you off the ground and dragging you into a broad chest. You were too weak to meaningfully resist, but still, you tried to writhe and nudge yourself out of his iron-clad hold to little success. He was already talking, too. Great. On the ranked list of things you might’ve wanted to hear immediately after accepting your own mortality, your kidnapper’s nervous babbling didn’t crack the top hundred.

As if that had ever stopped him before.

“—and I thought you’d gotten hurt, and your pulse sounded so far away, and— and I don’t know what I would’ve done if it’d taken me any longer to find you.” You tuned in mid-rambling, trying to swallow your agitation. He was bent over you, his face buried in your hair, giving his voice an unsteady, muffled quality. For the world’s strongest man, he was quick to fall apart whenever he thought you so much as might be in danger. You couldn’t really judge him for that, though. You fell apart whenever he wasn’t around, too, and you didn’t care about him at all. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? There’s a hospital about fifty miles away, I can—”

“I’m fine,” you cut in, your hands shoving at his forearm where it was barred over your waist. With an airy sigh, he repositioned you – letting you fall into a proper bridal-carry rather a fully-body tackle. You noticed, for the first time, that his feet weren’t touching the ground. He was levitating, a nervous habit that that back into too often to keep track of. He must’ve genuinely thought you were in danger. More importantly, he must’ve known there was no one around to see him doing something so obviously superhuman. “Just a little cold. I‘m sorry for worrying you.”

Another sigh, this one more genuine than the last. For the first time, he drew back, and you were able to see him properly. He must’ve come straight from Metropolis; he was still wearing the suit you’d seen him in that morning, his hair slightly disheveled and his glasses shoved haphazardly into his shirt pocket. You tried to breathe, not to be thankful for how quickly his inhuman warmth was ebbing away the harsher edges of your hypothermia, and for the most part, you succeeded. You felt his lips brush against your cheek, then the corner of your jaw – Clark as affectionate as he was paranoid. “Poor thing,” he muttered, haphazardly shrugging off the jacket of his suit and draping it over your shoulders. “We’ll have to get you warmed up once we get home.”

Despite yourself, you stiffened. It was over - you knew that. He caught you, and even if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been able to go on much longer. You knew that.

And yet, you held yourself that much tighter as you asked, “…do we have to go home right away?”

Clark’s smile softened; his expression slackening is a patronizingly sympathetic sort of way. He didn’t need to answer, not really, but you still cringed when he inevitably did. “Of course, dear.” And then, with another kiss to your forehead. “How else can I keep you safe?”

You might’ve been nicer than him, after all. Rather than respond, you bowed your head and tucked yourself against his chest, shutting your eyes and blocking him out entirely. Clark only hummed in acknowledgement, flying that much higher and taking you home.

It took an embarrassingly short time to reach the farmhouse – less than a full minute, if that. It wasn’t what you deserved, but it was what you needed: a reminder that you were trying to run away from someone who didn’t have to run at all to keep up with you. Trying to escape on your own was pointless. You’d either have to find another way to get away from him or give up entirely.

Despite your constant squirming, Clark only put you down once you were inside (meaning, once the front door was locked and deadbolted with you securely trapped behind it), and you stumbled to your feet, still on the verge of collapsing. He let you struggle through all of two steps before taking you by the hand and, with that award-winning smile, guiding you through the farmhouse. “A warm bath should do the trick. Some tea, too – or coffee, to keep your blood flowing.” His eyes flickered down to the mud-caked hem of your dress, your ruined shoes. “It’s a pity. I know that’s one of your favorites.” He paused, squeezed your hand. “We’ll have to pick out another together. Maybe tomorrow, before I leave for work.”

You bit the side of your tongue, nodding along absently and letting him ramble. When you passed the staircase leading to the second floor, to your bedroom, you started to move towards it, but Clark only continued further into the house.

“Uh, Clark?” You dragged your feet as he pulled you into the kitchen. “I— Um, tea sounds nice, but I’d really like to change, first, and—”

“In a few minutes.” Another infuriating smile, another squeeze to your hand. “Do you remember what happens when you break one of our rules?”

You felt something in your throat tighten. You’d managed to forget, but it came back quickly enough. “I do, but— I was out there for a few hours, and I can’t really feel my—”

“We’ll take care of that in a few minutes, love.” He was already moving towards the kitchen table, your hand still trapped in his. “We should get this over with now.”

Trying to argue would’ve been useless. You did your best to grit your teeth, to brace yourself, but your vision still blurred as he finally released you, settling into one of the simple wooden chairs. You crossed your arms over your chest, but it did little to put a barrier between you and his prying gaze. “Do you want to undress yourself? Or, do you need my help?”

Shaking your head, you fumbled with the buttons lining the back of your dress. Usually, you could manage on your own, but your hands were still numb, and you were fighting back tears, and Clark only watched you struggle for a few seconds before motioning for you to come closer. Soon enough, cotton and lace pooled uselessly at your feet, leaving you all-but entirely exposed in front of him. You didn’t need to be told to take off your shoes, kicking them into the depressing pile of fabric that used to be your favorite dress, but when it came to your panties, you hesitated, glancing toward Clark with a pleading look. “All of it,” he confirmed, with a tone bordering on apologetic. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

As if that would make you feel any better.

You sucked in a deep breath, then eased your panties down to your ankles. You’d been wearing one of your nicer pairs – white and silken, with a lace trim around the edges and a ribbon bow that was just slightly too big to be entirely inconspicuous. They were one of Clark’s favorites, even if you doubted you’d ever hear him admit something crude out loud. You could only hope you’d never see them again.

You kept your eyes on the floor as he took you by the waist and with as much effort as it might’ve taken to move a doll from one shelf to another, lifted you up and laid you over his lap. His thighs bit into your stomach as a hand found its way to the small of your back, rubbing slow circles into the base of your spine. “We’re only going to do fifteen, alright?” It wasn’t really a question, so you didn’t bother pretending you were going to answer. Clark didn’t seem to need you to. “And you know I’m doing this because I love you, right?”

That, you couldn’t get out of so easily.

“I know,” you mumbled, because that was what would upset him the least. “That doesn’t make it hurt any less, though.”

He didn’t make a sound. You wondered if he’d heard you at all, at least until the flat of his palm came down on the plush of your ass and immediately, it was impossible to think about anything at all.

It was a small mercy that he didn’t make you count. It was something he’d tried early on, the first couple of times you‘d thrown a chair through a window or stolen his phone or hoarded weapons underneath the mattress of your shared bed, but you’d never really been able to hold yourself together long enough for anything like that. You broke down too quickly, too easily – fuck, you were breaking down right now and he’d only hit you once. You could already feel tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, a knot welling up in the back of your throat that only seemed to let little, pitiful whimpers and miserable sobs slip by. You tried to steel yourself, to bite back any signs of weakness, but that only meant you’d forgotten to brace yourself for the second strike – just as bad as the first, centered more towards the back of your thigh than your ass. He was trying to spread the pain, to make sure any marks he left wouldn’t be permanent. He was trying to be gentle.

It was scarier than it should’ve been – knowing that he really did care about you. You couldn’t call it ‘love’, not really, not if you still wanted to be able to live with yourself, but he had to care about you, at least enough to pay some amount of mind to your well-being, at least enough for you to be sure he didn’t hate you (although, some days, you could still be convinced otherwise). He didn’t love you, but he thought he did, and the fact that he could earnestly believe he loved you and still treat you like this made you very, very afraid of what could happen if he ever changed his mind.

By the third strike, you were crying unabashedly, and by the sixth, your hands were clamped around his thigh, your nails biting into his skin in less of an attempt to hurt him and more of a desperate scramble for any kind of stability he had to offer. It was all force, no friction – a bruising, throbbing type of pain quickly spreading outward from every part of your body unfortunate enough to be under his palm. You couldn’t seem to talk, but Clark didn’t have an issue, pausing after every blow to rub circles into your bruised skin and mutter to himself. You couldn’t imagine he still thought he was talking to you. “I just worry about how you’d manage things, out there, all on your own,” he explained, his tone cloyingly sweet. Like he was talking to a child, too naïve to know any better. Like he could still expect you to believe there was anything in the world more dangerous than him. “You know I’ll always keep you safe, but I can’t be everywhere at once. It’s easier for both of us if you just—” A pause, an airy chuckle. “—if you just stay out of trouble.”

You’d lived in the city for years and never gotten into trouble, not before meeting him. Saying that felt pointless, though, especially when he was already moving onto the seventh.

Fifteen was a terrible number. If there’d been twenty or more, you might’ve been able to go numb by the time he finished, and ten or less would’ve given you a chance to preserve at least some of your dignity. At fifteen, though, the pain was still intense enough to be blistering, and you couldn’t seem to choke down your own keening sobs as Clark brought down his hand for the final blow – using just a little more force than he really had to, making sure the lesson would stick for the next couple of days, if not the next couple of weeks. He was strict, like that, despite how tender-hearted he pretended to be. If he wasn’t, you would’ve acted out more often.

You had to believe you’d act out more often.

You were still limp and crying when his arm wrapped around your waist and with a raspy, adoring sound, he sat you up – letting you straddle one of his thighs. Whatever relief you might’ve felt at the end of your punishment was immediately overshadowed by the pale, reddish tint spread visibly across his face, the feeling of something too large and too stiff pressing into your leg where it fell between his. Clark didn’t acknowledge it, though, and you were happy to follow his lead, melting into his hands as he cupped your face, basking in his happily provided comfort. There was a shallow exhale as he tilted your head back, pressing another lingering kiss into your forehead, before dipping lower – falling immediately to your neck. You let his lips make contact with your throat before sniffling and shifting in his lap. “Hurts, Clark,” you murmured, doing your best to make your voice that of something small and in need. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but… can we go upstairs, first?”

That was enough to snap him out of it. “Right. Of course.” There was one last peck to your collarbone before he pulled you into his arms, any thought of letting you walk on your own prematurely dismissed. You tried to go blank as he trailed through the farmhouse, not to focus on anything but the pain and your exhaustion, but your gaze seemed to catch on everything you didn’t want to see – the bowl of dough still rising on the kitchen counter, the torn dress-shirt you’d planned on mending today, a dozen tiny things that all drove their own little needles into the pit of your stomach. In Clark’s defense, the housewife shtick hadn’t been his idea, but you couldn’t say he was entirely blameless, either. When you were left trapped and alone, given nothing to do and no way to occupy your time, there was only so long you could last before resorting to household chores. It was just a happy coincidence that the byproducts of your captivity were practically identical to the kind of sugar-sweet, domestic behavior that’d always seemed to melt his heart, back when your relationship wasn’t so insidious.

At least the bathroom was warm. Still too unsteady to be trusted to walk on your own, you sat on the vanity while Clark ran a bath, staring at your hands absentmindedly as the steam started to ebb at the chill. When the tub was nearly full, he helped you into it, more than happy to make it seem like you couldn’t so much as move without his help – which, in his defense, you really couldn’t. As you sunk into the scorching water, you made a mental note not to let him touch you at all tomorrow. You doubted it would be enough to fix the damage tonight had done, but it’d be better than letting him coddle you half-to-death.

Surprisingly, Clark didn’t hover over you for very long. “I think I promised you something to drink,” he explained as he moved to the doorway, his smile suddenly sheepish. Like he had any right to be shy about what he’d done to you. “I’ll be back in a second – unless you think you’ll need a hand?”

You hesitated, but shook your head. “’m fine. I just need some time to think.”

“Not too long.” He glanced over his shoulder, his eyes prying into you for a second, then another before he turned away. “I think we should be careful about what gets into your pretty little head, for the next few days.”

And just like that, you were left alone. For the first time since he’d brought you home, you let yourself relax. The hot water momentarily dulled the pain, but without the agony to distract you, humiliation quickly took its place. You shouldn’t have let Clark take you back so easily – that only gave him more leeway to treat you like some naïve, fragile object he’d been tasked with looking after. You shouldn’t have taken your punishment so quietly, even if you doubted clawing at his legs and thrashing would’ve actually accomplished anything beyond salvaging your pride. You shouldn’t have run away at all, not if it meant triggering Clark’s paranoia, not if it reminded Clark that you’d still take any chance you saw to get away from him. You’d have to be smarter about it, if you ever to escape tried again.

(You did your best to ignore that, a few months about, the same sentiment would’ve been followed by ‘when you inevitably tried again’. You weren’t superhuman. You didn’t always have the strength to be so delusionaly optimistic.)

When Clark did return, he was blissfully quiet and careful to keep his distance, sitting on the edge of the tub while you haphazardly washed the dust out of your hair and scrubbed the mud from your skin. Even after the water had gone cold and you’d managed to struggle to your feet, his touch remained fleeting, ginger as he bundled you in a towel and lifted you into his arms – his sudden distance no excuse to treat you like a living, breathing, capable person, apparently.

You didn’t have the energy to be frustrated. Exhausted and beaten down, you closed your eyes and rested your head against his chest, only stirring slightly when you felt Clark lower you onto a quilt-padded bed. You started to sit up, but the feeling of a hand laying over your hip was enough to stop you. When you opened your eyes, you found Clark, still standing, still staring down at you with that dazed, lovesick smile. “It’s really amazing, how someone like me could ever end up with someone like you.” He dipped lower, his lips finding the side of your throat. There was no pretense of innocent affection, this time, just his mouth on the side of your neck, his teeth ghosting over your skin. His voice was stifled by proximity, but mournfully audible. “I love you. I’m always going to love you. You know that, right?”

“I... I do.” You sounded hoarse, weak – more so than you would’ve liked. Clark nipped playfully at your collarbone, nearly breaking the skin. “I know you’ve been waiting, but—”

“Guess I’m just that impatient, when it comes to you.” There was an airy chuckle, a glint to his smile, but neither were very comforting. Again, you made an attempt to flee, and again, he found a way to keep you where you were – his hands curling around your thighs as he eased your legs apart. There was a hollow thud of body against floorboardas he fell to his knees, as he pressed yet another open-mouthed kiss into the inside of your thigh. “I just can’t help it. You make it hard for me to think straight.”

Not that he was trying to. You opened your mouth, trying to think of something that could distract him, that could convince him you just couldn’t do this, but he’d latch onto your cunt before you could spit anything out – the flat of his tongue running over your entrance while his nose ground into your clit. With your ass still blistered from your punishment and your nerves still on-edge from the cold, that was all it took for you to bolt upward – your hands automatically finding their way to his hair in a desperate attempt to pry him off of you. Of course, he didn’t budge, and of course, when he did glance up, he did it with that lovestruck expression that you’d never been able to stand. That you never wanted to see again.

That you just couldn’t seem to wipe off of his fucking face.

“Clark,” you whined, his name fractured and mangled on your tongue. “Please, I— It hurts, and I’m so tired, and I just—” You cut yourself off, swallowing harshly and trying to catch your breath. “Please, don’t.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Your heart skipped a beat, hope swelling in your chest. He melted into your palm, grinning like an idiot. “You can relax. I promise, I’ll be gentle.”

And just like that, you felt something deep in your chest crack open and shatter.

The next time he bowed his head, burying himself between your thighs, you didn’t bother trying to stop him.

You didn’t do anything at all.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere dc #dc x reader #dc imagines #superman x reader #clark kent x reader #yandere superman #yandere x you #yandere clark kent

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shimonerin · 8 months ago

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"Tell Me Why I Married You Again?"

Content: Half of the school ships the teacher and the coach, not knowing they're married

Tags: use of "ma'am/mrs." to the reader, fluff, bickering, old married couple vibes

Word Count: 848

The sound of fists smacking hard against the ball and the high-pitched squeak of the boys’ sneakers can be heard even before you could enter the gym. It’s 3 pm and, as usual, there was an ongoing session of volleyball training. Interhigh Preliminaries are near but that doesn’t mean you’re going to let this slide.

Pushing open the sliding doors, the warm air of, well, sweat filled the enclosure. One of the reasons you don’t like going here.

“Hinata, nice spike! Keep it up!” Ukai’s loud, booming voice echoed throughout the gym. As expected, he didn’t really notice your presence, despite standing near the doorway. God, he is such an idiot sometimes.

“Hey, Keishin.” Your voice, low yet firm, seemed to catch the attention of everyone. Not exactly how you wanted this to happen.

Ukai seemed startled at your presence, his eyes widening and his mouth agape “Hey! Uh, (Y/N)? What are you doing here?”

With your hands on your hips, he knew exactly why you’re here. He just didn’t want to make a fool of himself.

You could already see the shit-eating grins on some of the boys’ faces, specifically Tanaka and Noya’s. You rolled your eyes and stepped forward “Where are the jerseys? The principal has been grilling my ass over this for two days now.” You told him, a gaze that only an annoyed wife would give plastered on your face.

Last weekend, there was an emergency. Apparently, during one of their out-of-school jogs around the area, Hinata and Kageyama, expectedly, fell into one of the mud pits. This leads to Ukai having to take two of the spare school uniforms in your classroom, which you let him. What you didn’t know was the fact the principal was keeping tabs over these.

He crossed his arms over your chest, looking off to the side as he tried to explain, tumbling over some of the words “W-Well, you know I didn’t really had time to…wash it yet��with the store and the training and all…” His words sheepishly drawled across his lips.

You raised an eyebrow “Why did I know you would do that?”

“Oh, come on! I-I’ll wash it tomorrow, I promise! I’d even give it to the principal himself if you’re too busy!” He exclaims, rubbing the back of his head as he looks at you with a pleading look.

By this point, the boys are already snickering behind their back. Probably finding more ways to tease the both of you.

“Do you really think I’m stupid, Keishin?” You scoffed “I’m letting you do whatever so you better keep your word, you hear?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Noya suddenly perked up from his place “Why don’t we just wash it for you, Coach? You should focus on taking Mrs. (Y/N) out for dinner tonight. She seems pretty pissed.”

Daichi smacked the back of his head as soon as his words left his mouth. But the others couldn’t help but chuckle. It’s a bit of an inside joke to the students to ship the both of you together.

Ukai clicked his tongue at their antics “Hey, Noya, if you don’t zip your-”

“We were actually going to check out that new ramen place by the corner.” You quickly cut him off, leading to a lot of cheers and jeering among the gym.

Lots of “See? I told you they were dating!”, “Wait til everybody hears about this!”, and “I knew that the first time I saw Coach bring Mrs. (Y/N) a cup of coffee!”

Keishin had the brightest red on his cheeks, pinching the bridge of his nose. With all the (silly) bickering you do with your husband, it doesn’t hurt to tease him from time to time.

You turned back to the boys and furrowed your eyebrows “What do you mean dating? Didn’t you already know?”

A chorus of “Huh?” erupted from the team

You grabbed Keishin’s hand and held out the glinting wedding ring on his finger before putting up your hand in comparison “We’re married. For 3 years now. Ever wonder why we bicker so much?”

Needless to say word got out very, very quickly. And a string of new jokes by the Karasuno Volleyball Team were continuously thrown at Ukai every day.

“You made my life miserable.” He groaned, resting his head on your shoulder while you were on the couch, grading some of your students’ assignments “You should pay for that.”

“Don’t act like you don’t like it.”

“I don’t!”

You smirked to yourself, letting out a small chuckle. You ran your free hand over his hair, giving it a gentle massage “Alright, I’ll take it back. We’re divorced now, then?”

“No, God!” He’d shout, his head shooting up from your words as his eyebrows scrunched up together “You’re an asshole sometimes, you know that?”

You let out a low hum of amusement, turning to him with hearts in your eyes. “Sometimes, I wonder why I even let you put a ring on me.”

Ukai couldn’t understand how he can love someone more than he already does. He guesses you’re a living example of that.

#hq #haikyuu #haikyuu!#coach ukai #ukai keishin #coach ukai x reader #ukai x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #hq x reader #hq imagines #hq fluff #haikyuu drabbles #hq drabble #hq headcanons #hq hcs

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helaintoloki · 5 months ago

Text

Keep Your Enemies Closer

pairing: sparrow!ben x reader

warnings: language, angst, suggestive content, minor spoilers

notes: the new season has brought me back from the dead so pls send in any tua requests you have <3 also this technically could be read as a sequel to relenting

summary: attending Grace’s birthday party forces you to confront the man you’ve been trying your hardest to avoid

The scent of pizza and spilled soda invades your senses as you help continue to set up birthday decorations in Lila’s absence. You have no idea where she’s run off to now, but you hope that taking over the rest of the work load will ease some of the stress from the tired mother’s shoulders.

The party center is loud, shrill shrieks of kids and music blasting from the arcade games splitting your ears and giving you a headache, and you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t rather be anywhere else but in some children’s play place. But, you are Grace’s favorite aunt, and you firmly believed in always showing up for family, so here you are.

Just as you finish setting the last place mat on the kid’s table an overly excited voice calls your name from the back of the room. A smile creeps upon your lips at the familiarity, but it immediately drops when you see that it’s not just Luther heading your way but also the man you loathe with your entire being.

“Hey, you made it!” Luther cheers animatedly before pulling your tense body into a tight bear hug. “It’s so nice to see you, y/n.”

“It’s nice to see you too, big guy,” you agree with a dry laugh and awkward pat to his back. You can feel the daggers being burned into your skull, so you have no choice but to acknowledge Luther’s companion for the day. “But you do know you’re supposed to leave the trash outside, right?”

“Like I haven’t heard that one before,” Ben scoffs with an indignant roll of his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be at the hospital ‘saving lives?’”

“Shouldn’t you still be in jail?” You fire back with ire, and if not for Luther keeping you both apart you’d probably be fist fighting in the middle of the ball pit right now.

“Uh, Ben got out early on probation for good behavior,” Luther explains with a nervous chuckle while attempting to keep the peace as best as he can without losing an eye in the process. “And now he’s here to spend time with us as a family.”

“Yeah, let’s see how long that lasts.”

“Hey, I technically am family,” the Sparrow boasts with a taunting smirk, formulating just the right insults to get under your skin. “You were a late addition added to the Umbrellas to pick up the slack Viktor left behind after Dad suppressed their powers. You’re not even a Hargreeves. Isn’t that right, Luther.”

“W-Well, I wouldn’t say that,” the man is quick to defend only for you to speak over him.

“Fuck. You,” you snarl through gritted teeth, palms clenched tightly at your sides as you adamantly work to not let him get the best of you. “Ben was family, and you’re not him. You’re just the shitty replacement we’re stuck with.”

“And yet when you thought the world was ending you still slept with me.”

The smug smile on Ben’s face is immediately wiped off by the impact of your open palm colliding with his cheek, and the sheer force of your hit as him tumbling back into Luther. Your assault earns a few bewildered gasps from a nearby table of parents, but you couldn’t care less about what a group of wine moms thought of you in that moment. Your chest is tight with rage, but you will yourself to walk away before the situation can escalate further and ruin the party.

“What did I miss?” A curious Five notes after arriving to the scene, but he soon finds himself forced to match your brisk pace as you grab him by the arm and drag him with you to the bar.

“I need a drink.”

~~~

You do your best to avoid him for the rest of the night, but eventually Ben is able to corner you by the gift table where you sit nursing a spiked lemonade.

“Drinking at a kid’s party, huh?”

“Did you come here to get slapped again?” You retort with a wry chuckle before taking a quick swig of your drink.

“Actually,” he starts, hesitating as he struggles to get out the words, “I came to… apologize.”

“You? Apologize? What, is the world ending again?” You scoff in disbelief before finally settling your gaze on the shaggy haired man before you. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but you think prison might have made him hotter, and the fact irks you to no end.

Obviously annoyed by your defensiveness, Ben shakes his head and says, “I don’t even know why I bother. I only came here for Luther’s sake because he wouldn’t shut up about making ‘positive changes’ now that I’m out of jail.”

“‘Don’t even know why I bother?!’” You repeat in indignant disbelief. “I gave you so many chances to prove that you weren’t a complete asshole and every time you screwed me over! You are not the victim in the situation.”

“Oh, spare me the sob story,” Ben remarks dismissively with a roll of his eyes. “I lost someone too, you’re not the only one that has to deal with the fact that you’re stuck with a completely different version of your dead partner. At least I’m trying to make the most of what the universe has given me.”

“By getting yourself thrown in jail over some stupid crypto scheme?”

“Jesus, by trying to make something with you!” Ben cries out in frustration. “You won’t even try to just play along!”

“I already told you, I’m not your y/n. She’s dead,” you remind him harshly. “Sleeping with you was just a moment of weakness and a mistake that shouldn’t have happened.”

“Really? Because if I remember correctly you seemed to really be enjoying yourself,” he taunts with a suggestive smirk that has your face immediately growing hot.

“God, you’re so insufferable! I could just-“

“Kiss me?”

“-choke you!”

A heavy silence falls between you both as you stare at each other in bewildered shock. It takes you a moment to recover from Ben’s words as you swallow harshly and ask, “What did you say?”

“What did… you say?” He retorts in an attempt to remain as inconspicuous as possible. The tension between you now is so thick you could cut it with the knife sitting by the birthday cake, but instead you just sit and stare at each other.

“Does your car have tinted windows?” Ben asks suddenly, prompting you to raise a brow.

“Yeah, why?” You reply with an inquisitive raise of your brow, but when Ben gives you a pointed look you’re then quick to catch on. “If we go now we’ll be back in time for cake.”

“Let’s go,” he says, eagerly rising from his seat so fast it almost knocks over the presents. Anxiously taking your hand in his, you both scan the room to make sure no one’s eyes are on you before bolting towards the exit.

You know you’re going to regret this, but in the moment you couldn’t care less what consequences would come from your romp in the backseat of your car with Ben.

Because as much as you hate to admit it, you’ve really missed him.

#the umbrella academy #ben hargreeves #sparrow!ben #ben hargreeves x reader #ben hargreeves imagine #sparrow!ben x reader #sparrow!ben imagine #tua #tua x reader #tua imagine #sparrow academy #tua spoilers

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inkykeiji · 9 months ago

Text

you make a mess of me

character: alastor

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, fem!reader, blood + blood eating, periods, dry humping, biting (hard enough to break the skin), toxic relationship, noncon, possessiveness + entitled behaviour, pet/master dynamic, unintentional overstimulation + multiple orgasms, unrealistic amount of period blood, slashing/cutting the skin, alastor is getting off on the pain he’s inflicting on you

notes: this fic is extremely dead dove and involves alastor eating your period blood among other things. it gets gross; please read the warnings and stay safe! | title credit: lose control by teddy swims

words: 3.8k

The first day of your period is always, by far, the worst.

Because the first day of your period is the heaviest, the bloodiest, and, according to Alastor, the tastiest.

Which translates to: Alastor spending the entirety of the first day with his head buried between your legs, hungrily slurping blood from the most intimate part of your body, large claws curled around your hips and pinning you to the mattress, rendering you completely helpless beneath his grasp—defenceless against his vicious tongue, trapped at the mercy of his insatiable addiction.

You’ve lost track of time at this point, lost count of how many times he’s unintentionally made you cum, lost consciousness more than once, elusive and slipping from between your fingers, an intangible mist that you can’t seem to keep a solid grip on—something that melts in the heat of your palms as you squeeze too hard, too desperately.

But that promise of pleasure always seems to draw you back into the light of wakefulness, presses gasps of air into your lungs and shocks your mind from it’s muddled fog.

It’s building once more, a dense heat roiling low and slow in the pit of your stomach as it furls in on itself in an almost lazy manner—a ball of fire that grows hotter and heavier, pulses larger and larger as it expands, flares with every swipe of his nose against your swollen clit, singeing surrounding organs, consuming bordering tissues, boiling the blood in nearby tangles of vessels—until it stops, dims, dies once more, withering away to simmering little embers, yearning to catch flame all over again.

His unintentional edging eats away at your tattered sanity, renders you delirious for release, little fingers tangling in his bangs and yanking, a pitiful attempt to grind his face into your cunt, to catch your slick little nub on the tip of his nose.

The laps of his tongue, once soft as velvet, have turned rough against your licked-raw cunt, every drag of the wet muscle along your slit more painful than the last, sending tiny spikes searing through your gut.

It hurts, but it doesn’t stop you from being a greedy little thing, craving another orgasm, for that sweet, sweet relief that rushes through your exhausted body, that releases the tension building in your muscles, each graze against your clit coiling fibres tighter and tighter until your entire body has gone rigid, aching for reprieve.

For what it’s worth, Alastor doesn’t really seem to care—if anything, he encourages it, the hands on your hips aiding in your movements as your pelvis rolls up, the motion pushing another rush of warm blood from your hole. His tongue wiggles further inside of you, curls into a hook in response, siphoning the substance from your core into his throat with keen little growls exhaled out his nose.

It turns him into something primal—past animalistic, past inhuman, something ineffably sinister, all of his senses sharply honed on his singular task, antlers sprouting branches the longer he eats from you, the worse the pain grows.

He eats your blood like a starving man, with such vigour you’d think he’s never tasted something so delicious, obscenely drinking from the center your body—a delirious attempt to drain you of your essence, dangerous teeth just barely sealed behind puckering lips and an avid, twisting tongue.

It sounds disgusting, the crude smacks of his lips and working of his tongue echoing throughout his bedroom in thick squelches, his chin and his cheeks and his mouth drenched in your combined fluids—blood and spit, hurt and hunger.

It’s ritualistic in a sense, the way his tongue sprawls, swirls into your body, cups, and then darts back, scooping blood and tissue down his throat before forming a point, the tip circling the dips and contours of your cunt, sure to clean any remnants his messy eating might’ve left, before repeating the cycle over again.

Anguish turns stifling as he smothers himself with your core, time gone syrupy as it drips by dense glops, unhurried and unavailing. His tongue feels coarse against your once silky skin, now abraded by his incessant feeding, his methodical motions having caused tiny fissures to sprout along your hole.

Any faint flickers of pleasure have been completely eradicated now, morphed into torrid cinders that scorch your skin, pitchy wails scratching at your chest.

Something suspiciously similar to stop! shatters in your throat, your fingers burrowing further into his hair, knuckles rooted against his scalp right next to the base of his antlers and pulling.

He growls against you, the sound vibrating deep within your cunt, little tremors that snuggle into your flesh like worming maggots, a moan prying past your lips. A large palm flattens between your hip bones and presses down firmly, eliciting a squeak from your chest as it tries to milk your uterus from the inside out, desperate for more blood.

Another sound of frustration echoes behind his sternum, the fingers curled around your hip flexing, his talons further puncturing your flesh.

It isn’t enough for him.

Because, really, when has it ever been? When will it ever be? Your Owner has always been selfish when it comes to his precious pet.

There are already tears leaking from the corners of your eyes, streaming down over your temples in shimmering little trails. Droplets of salt glitter, suspended in spiky lashes, as your eyes flutter, blinking rapidly to clear your bleary vision and dislodging more water in the process.

Wordlessly, his head lifts from the apex of your thighs, elbows dimpling the mattress as he uses them to hoist his torso up, nosing along the junction of your hip with one deep inhale and letting the scent of fresh blood, trickling from the tiny piercings his claws have left, lead him.

His tongue, pigmented a dark crimson, unfurls from his mouth to flatten against your flesh, bathing over the little wounds in slow, deliberate laves. But that isn’t enough, either, a starving snarl ripping from his chest as he repeats the action, this time dragging his lips along, too, using them to encourage another bout of blood from the cuts as he sucks, hard.

It’s so strong, so forceful it has tiny tangles of vessels snapping beneath the skin, spilling enticingly into the surrounding tissues. A cry rips from your throat, back bowing off the bed as a bruise rapidly develops under his mouth, yet another mark he stains into you.

But staking such weak, insufficient claims isn’t what he’s here for today.

Something dark rumbles in his chest, the type of greed that’s borne in his core and nurtured by obsession, that rattles his ribs as it aches to escape, to consume more and more and more.

It’s tormented by the blood trapped below the barrier, ichor that teases him, taunts him, tests him—and, well, that’s just not fair, is it? How dare your body do such a cruel thing to its keeper; how dare your body withhold something that belongs to him.

Sharp teeth sink into supple flesh with zero resistance and scrape, effortlessly removing the first layer of skin and freeing the blood pooling beneath it. His avid tongue instantly sops up the substance, smoothing over the wound and pressing down powerfully, procuring another torrent of crimson.

But his rapacity still remains unfulfilled—if anything, it only grows in its appetency, that splash of blood serving as nothing more than a canapé.

He needs something deeper.

With another slow, vast sniff, he trails the tip of his nose along the expanse of your body, hunting for something thick and pulsing and allowing instinct to guide him, ears pricked and tuned into the frequency of a steady, strong pounding—and he finds it just above your belly button.

Stopping, he licks the area once—a long, broad stroke of his tongue, gliding across your skin and leaving a viscid smear of saliva in its wake.

Then a claw is puncturing your skin, slicing across your stomach in a controlled line, scarlet immediately seeping from the laceration, the tip of his talon missing your aorta by a hair.

It burns, a yelp sticking in your throat, tangling on a sob as you cough around it, spine arching instinctively. Cooling tingles skitter across the new incision as he breathes out a single puff of air, admiring his handiwork, before his mouth latches over it.

“Alastor!” you sob out, fingers curling against his shoulders and tugging, his name a garbled mess on your tongue. “What are you doing!”

“Hold fucking still,” he growls into the fresh injury. “Or I will rip your aorta out with my teeth.”

You know he won’t, know he values you far too much to kill you—his precious pet, his perfect little plaything, his prized possession—but that doesn’t mean that he won’t bring you alarmingly close to death—again.

Even still, and as fun as that is, he’ll never fully go through with it.

Because you’re so fucking obedient—he’s never found someone so dedicated, so devoted, so fucking desperate to please him, to go above and beyond and make him proud, all without a contract.

And he’s never giving that up.

Besides, he’s grown quite fond of you.

Predictably, you obey his order the instant it leaves his lips—never a single wisp of defiance drifting through your murky brain—squirming calmed, even as pangs quiver through your body.

He’s still for another moment or two, letting that delicious anticipation build, before he dives back into feeding, digs his tongue into the wound and tears it wider, another gush of warm blood rushing to fill the new gaping.

Another sound of pain cracks through his bedroom, jagged and crisp, and he nearly whines into your stomach, the wriggling of his tongue turned vicious.

It burrows into the wound, tip hooked as it plunges through the sticky substance, writhes under slippery tissues and broken capillaries in it’s quest for more, the rough voraciousness of it all sending blistering spears shooting through your stomach.

You’re well past the point of sobbing now, unintelligible pleads spilling past your lips soaked with spit, garbled and howled, but your nails scrape at his scalp, fingers tugging a little on his antlers, a moan vibrating against your flesh as his hands wrap around your hips again, holding you still.

He feeds on the stomach wound until the blood ceases to flow freely, until it requires too much effort on his part, blood working hard to begin congealing the gash only to be split open by his siphoning, over and over and over again.

Only then does he continue his exploration, scouring your body, nose curving over your ribs and outlining your breasts as claws slit superficial little slashes in your flesh, tongue swiping over them in experimentation, until finally he finds another heavy throbbing, right above your collarbone.

His breath, pushed from his lips in harsh, fast little pants of hunger, is infused with your blood, the stench of bitter copper stinging your nostrils as it wafts across your skin. It collects in damp little droplets against your neck, his tongue once again unfolding from its cavern to press, hard and flat and wide, against your jugular.

There’s no licking this time, no slow haul of the slick muscle to glaze the canvas before the inevitable incision, just his tongue held smooth and still pinned over the vein, feeling the steady rush of blood. Saliva drools steadily from the corners of his mouth, drizzling onto your chest in thick glass cords, tinted pale pink.

A shiver scampers up your spine as his irregular huffs ghost over your wet skin, chills erupting across your flesh. For a singular instant, everything is still, stagnant—your breath and his teeth and those wandering claws, the only constant being the pulsating thrum of your blood beneath his tongue—before his fingers are moving again, one palm curling around your neck to hold you still as a keen talon slices into your flesh once more.

A scream curdles in your throat, stifled by the hand still collaring your neck, his mouth latching over the wound to lap at the blood. Searing pain radiates from the site, shooting along your jaw and shoulder, and your spine arches off the mattress, struggling beneath his body.

“Stop, stop, stop,” you’re sobbing out, the plead spilling from your lips in a continuous sticky stream, letters tangled in threads of spit. “Please, Al—Master, please!”

Thunder rumbles up his throat and spills into the wound his tongue is prying open—a warning, or a denial, you can’t be sure—as his hips keep you pinned to the bed, his thighs spreading yours wide, his knees sinking into the mattress.

You’re trapped under him, helpless and vulnerable to his vicious attack as his lips pucker and his tongue wiggles and his teeth scrape, collecting you beneath their edges. The agony is excruciating as he devours you, as you thrash and cry and tremble pathetically, your efforts entirely in vain and failing to deter him at all, your ceaseless struggling barely a hitch in his routine.

“Please, please, please,” your chanting, bloated tears weighting your lashes, lids fighting to stay open. “Please, Sir, it—it—Stop!”

A roar ruptures in his throat, rough and loud, and he yanks himself away from his meal, raising his head to glare at you.

“Have you forgotten your purpose, pet?” he spits, flecks of your blood splattering across your cheeks, a smatter of crimson freckles. “Hmm?”

A large hand twines around your jaw and squeezes, hard enough that your cheeks hollow and your mouth puckers. His claws dig into your face as he forces you to look at him, his nose brushing your own.

“Does Master need to make you write it out a hundred times, again?”

“No,” you weep, head trembling in a poor imitation of a shake, still locked in place by his bruising grip.

“Then what is it? Why do you exist?”

“To serve you.”

“How?”

“In—In any way you want me to, Master.”

“Exactly,” he purrs, but the word is razored, teetering on the edge of vitriolic. “So be a useful little pet, like you’re supposed to, and let Master take what he owns, what he’s owed.”

And so, you do.

Because you’re nothing if not faithfully, blindingly obedient to your owner.

His grip relaxes, and your jaw raises, neck bowing off the sheets, offering itself to him unabashedly—your body, your blood.

Something nefarious spreads across his face, stretched smile curling at the edges as it reaches his eyes, a malicious little melody playing on the back of his tongue.

He takes a moment to admire your sheer obedience, your willing and unwavering faith him him, a claw tracing the newest injury, leaving behind a shallow outline in your flesh.

A whimper falls from your lips, but you don’t dare to look away from him, even as the tears lacquering your eyes finally overflow again, streaming down the sides of your head to collect in your hairline.

“Good girl,” he says, and although his voice is soft, the compliment is sharp—mean, mocking, hardened by a layer of patronization.

“Th-Thank you, Sir.”

And then he’s plunging his tongue back in, mouth sealing over the wound tightly, another shrill squeal clawing at your throat. Yet despite the white-hot pain it inspires, his saliva stinging the new contour, you do your best to hold still, to be good, body quivering with the immense effort.

“Christ,” he mutters, the word muddled with blood as he rubs his mouth into the cut. “Your suffering is so fucking delicious.”

His statement is so sick, tinged with a vile sort of pleasure that churns your stomach, acidic bile collecting on the back of your tongue, the revolt so overwhelming that you almost don’t feel it, twitching against your hip as it fills with blood, hot and hard and straining as his pelvis beings to shift, rutting in irregular little motions.

For a moment, you can barely believe what’s happening, mind numb with terror and shock. For a moment, your mind refuses to believe what’s happening, scrambling to scrape together some sort of patchwork excuse for this behaviour—maybe he was just moving to get more comfortable; maybe it meant nothing at all—but the rutting fails to cease, uneven and unskilled, a moan shuddering his breathing, and your body freezes beneath him.

If he notices, he doesn’t seem to care, the rocking of his hips never slowing, another muffled sound of pleasure soaking into your skin.

They’re sweltering against your neck, those little noises of ecstasy, every soft moan and cracked whine and hoarse grunt huffed out damp and humid, beading in little dewdrops on your marred skin.

“M-Master,” you gasp before you can stop yourself, wiggling a little beneath him to confirm your suspicions and whimpering when his cock throbs in response. “You—You’re—It’s—”

“What?” he pulls back slightly, chest rising and falling against your own with ragged little breaths. Something smug plays with the corners of his smile, twinkles of sadism shining bright in his eyes.

He’s going to make you say it.

Your gaze flees his own—it’s too intense, eyes watering with a fresh bout of tears, pins of embarrassment pricking your cheeks. “It’s—”

“Look at me when you’re talking to me.”

Immediately, your stare snaps back to his, wide and submissive.

“It’s hard,” you force words from your tongue, the admission fading to a shameful whisper, face twisting in a wince as if the letters slashed your tongue.

“What is?”

“Master—” you flounder, head shaking a little.

“Go on,” he urges, grinding his hips into yours, slow and purposeful. “Tell me. You’re a big girl.”

“Your cock,” you nearly whine, eyes squeezing shut, fat tears leaking from the seams. “Your cock is hard.”

“It’s your fault, you know,” he murmurs, tongue rolling over your cheek thoughtfully, leaving watery streaks of blood smeared in its wake, mopping up the salt and swallowing it down, growling a little. “Crying out in pain like that.”

“Alastor,” you sob out, head shaking in messy little motions. “I don’t—I’m not—”

“It’s quite cute, the way you’re trying to act as if you don’t love this,” he muses airily, another gust of tangy metal nipping your nose as it wafts across your face, his forehead resting against your own.

Inhaling deep and measured, his ribs expand against yours, sharp bones digging into soft flesh, a gentle tremor coursing through his form as he nestles his face into your own, noses bumping together.

“You can’t fool me, pet. I know you too well.”

His thigh hitches higher, wedged tightly between your legs, shoved up against your cunt, the abrupt action eliciting a gasp, your eyes snapping open to search his own.

“I can smell your arousal, silly,” he says, voice low and smooth, nose tracing along your soiled cheek until his lips are at your ear. “In fact, it’s so strong that it’s overwhelming your blood.” A chuckle reverberates along the cartilage. “I know my pet is a nasty little girl.”

Barbs of humiliation flush through your body, fiery and stabbing through your veins, and he laughs again, a dark and wicked strain that vibrates from his chest into yours.

“Now,” he begins, the word slimy against your ear. “You’re going to be a good little girl for me and let your Master finish his meal.”

It isn’t a question, nor is it a request—it’s an order, and it’s an order he knows you’re desperate to obey.

Because, really, you live for him now, don’t you? Live to please him, to serve him, to make him proud. Because you’re nothing without him now, aren’t you? All of your self-worth wrapped up in your Owner, all of your purpose derived from him, all of your validation sitting heavy on his tongue, desperate to suck those vague compliments and shallow praises from his lips, to swallow them whole, always ravenous for more.

Because you’re just as greedy as he is, in a way. And he knows it.

And he loves it.

His hand wraps around your throat again, pressing his claws into the delicate flesh slow and forceful and procuring new trickles of blood, cascading down your neck in ribbons of crimson.

A groan spills past his lips as he nuzzles his cheek into the tiny wounds, daubing his face with you while his hips begin to increase in speed and force.

Starched cotton chafes the wound on your stomach as he humps away at you, the thin, firm muscles sculpting his thigh flexing against your cunt with each of his movements.

“Ow, ow, ow,” you’re weeping, stuttered by the hiccups catching in your chest.

“Aw, does it hurt? Huh?” he lifts his head slightly, glowing eyes scouring your face with voracity. “Am I—f-fuck—hurting you?”

The rolling of his hips judders a little as you bawl out a confirmation, gnarled and weighted with spit on your sloppy tongue, a whiny hiss sucked through the gaps of his clenched teeth.

It all hurts so much, the grinding of his shirt against the slits he’s carved into you and the rubbing of his thigh against your sensitive cunt and the digging of his tongue into his newest infliction.

It all hurts so much, but you don’t shove him off, don’t push at his shoulders or kick at his hips, arms winding around his shoulders and clutching, a leg entwining with his own, knee hooked over the back of his.

Sharp teeth bury themselves in the fresh slash, persistently oozing on your neck right above your jugular, and gnaw at the borders, raw skin splitting further beneath their razored edges. Another scream gurgles wetly in your throat, mangled by a sob, his responding gruff sound of pleasure seeping into the wound he’s feeding on, white-hot and buzzing.

The hair framing your temples is saturated with dense salt, the strands beginning to crust and dry in flat little knots against your skin, casualties of the beading sweat and ceaseless tears.

The flesh of your cheeks feels heated and sore, gone tight from the thick streams of dried tears that stain them, tiny remnants of salt streaking your face.

He must be getting close already, snarls panted out against your shoulder, uncoordinated movements accelerating with each noise you make, faster and faster and faster until finally his teeth sink into your unmarred shoulder, a shriek piercing the atmosphere as his hips stammer, grinding hard, and then still.

A vicious shudder courses through his entire form as his cock throbs, body rippling beneath the force of it. Hot cum fills his trousers, sticky and thick and so, so much, viscous dollops leaking through the fabric. It’s tacky and blazing against your hip, the little jolts of his pelvis rubbing it in crude bands across your skin.

Your fingers tighten, clinging to him, desperate for the comfort only he can bring, even as his strong jaw flexes and his teeth burrow deeper into soft flesh, embedded at least an inch or more, his tongue laving in messy strokes over the blood-slicked skin bunched between his lips.

“Master, Master, Master,” you’re sobbing into him, his breath harsh and stinging against the bite.

Everything aches, muscles pulled taut from agony and anticipation, heavy with tension. Tiny pricks of pain erupt across your body in waves, conjured with each brush of his clothing. Sobs and screeches have left your throat ripped open, every rush of air feeling like an inhalation of razor blades.

You’re still speaking, still chanting out his honoured title, but your ears have gone numb, your own voice unrecognizable, nothing more than a distinct vibration in your chest.

It’s only when his cock is beginning to soften that he finally dislodges his teeth from your body, licking over the carvings of his mouth once, twice, three times for good measure before his head raises to look at you.

The sight is stunning, kicks the breath from your lungs and the fog from your brain, attention suddenly honed on him, tuned into his frequency.

Strokes of crimson paint his jaw in messy smears, his tongue licking lazily at the blood coating his chin, streaking it further. It’s almost artful in a sickeningly intimate way, how he’s been glazed in you, your blood staining the lines of his teeth and the curves of his gums, his skin shimmering with his own diluted drool.

His breathing is still frayed, cedar dyed with pungent copper breezing over your face in gentle huffs. A knuckle skims along your cheek, gaping gaze following it’s trajectory, his claws varnished a glittering scarlet, only a shade or two brighter than their natural colour.

“See?” he pants out, question airy on his tongue but infused with malice, eyes refocusing on your own. Something sinister tugs at the corners of his lips, broad smile stretching impossibly wider, peaked edges of his mouth nearly nudging his lower lashes. “Was that so difficult?”

#alastor smut #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x y/n #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin smut #tw:blood #inky.alastor #inky.hazbin

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romanteacism · 5 months ago

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Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Missing

Synopsis: You went suddenly missing, and your knight, Ser Aemond, was beside himself-- completely desperate to find you once more. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond and Reader becoming closer, ¿infatuation?, Aemond Overly Concerned, Fluff PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART A/N: ngl, i rlly like this one.

“I was gone for just a moment… how the fuck did you lose the princess?!” Aemond roared at his fellow knight, who had just recently recovered from his fever. You and your family were still staying by the seaside palace, and Aemond had only recently adapted to your new routine when your days were spent in your summer home, but it was suddenly disrupted by your disappearance. Ser Adam turned his head to the side and had a sneezing fit once more, making Aemond roll his eye. “I—I had only excused myself for a quick moment to relieve myself, and the princess swore she would stay put! I had no idea that she would escape!”

“You imbecile! What kind of guard are you? Leaving the princess alone! You had a station in the castle longer than I— you must know of her tendencies to run off!” Aemond spat, stomping furiously as he searched for you through the halls, Ser Adam in tow. “I thought she had outgrown such habits! Ever since you came to be her guard, she never once escaped.” Ser Adam tried to defend himself. “Because I never let her out of my sight!” Aemond resisted his desire to punch his fellow knight as he gave him a sheepish look, and an ‘oh’ left his lips. “Go! Alert the other guards; the princess must be found quickly. If she is found harmed due to your negligence, I swear to you I’ll be the one to put your head upon a spike personally.” Aemond quickly sprinted through the halls, unable to see Ser Adam's reaction to his rather… bold and overly passionate statement.

Aemond ran up the stairs, battling through the pit in his stomach and ache in his lungs to reach your chambers that were placed upon the highest tower of the seaside keep. When Aemond opened the doors of your circular chambers, naught a soul was to be found beside your pet cat who leisurely laid on your bed. “Princess!” Aemond called, going through the various rooms in your chambers in search of you. When he heard footsteps approaching, Aemond quickly exited the wet room, hoping it was you, but it was only your brother. The prince rested by the doorframe, catching his breath as he ran up the endless steps that led to your chambers. “Where…. Where is— she?” He panted, resting his hands on his knees as he felt winded. Aemond could not reply, only assisting the prince onto a chair. “I do not know if the tightening in my chest is because my sister is missing or because I ran up those wretched stairs! Whose idea was it to place her chambers in the highest tower?” He started to ramble on.

“I believe she said that it was yours, my prince,” Aemond answered, remembering one of your anecdotes from the day before. “Ah, yes, so she could not climb out the window.” The prince ran a hand through his hair, breathing heavily. “How, in the name of the seven, did she even escape?! You never take your eye off her! I find it impossible to believe that she slipped through your fingers!” The prince exclaimed, exasperated as he was once again subjected to the fear of your disappearance. He felt a kind of anxiousness he had not felt in a while due to the attention your sworn protector placed upon you; he had not worried about you escaping and wandering off ever since Ser Aemond came to your care. “I was summoned by the king, and I left the princess on the watch of Ser Adam. He tells me he took a short moment to relieve himself, and when he returned to the gardens, the princess had already disappeared.”

“Damned stairs!” A third voice suddenly boomed, catching the attention of the prince and the knight. “My king,” Ser Aemond quickly bowed, and your brother abruptly stood. “Where is your sister?” He questioned sharply, another person who got accustomed to your shift of habits as you had not once escaped when under the protection of Ser Aemond. “She escaped her guard,” Your brother sighed, making the king point his heated gaze to Ser Aemond. “Not Ser Aemond; you summoned him, and sister was under the protection of another.” Your brother quickly defended. “Oh, yes, of course,” The king said, already forgetting that he had spoken to Ser Aemond just a few moments ago. “Then what are you two doing in her chambers? Find her! For heaven’s sake, I thought we were past this!” The king said, holding the same exasperation as his son. “Of course, father.” The prince gave a curt nod. “And for the love of god, move her chambers to the east wing! These stairs would cause anyone apoplexy!” The king exclaimed from a distance.

“I had told Ser Adam to order the knight to patrol and search the beach,” Aemond spoke, and your brother nodded. “The shore is stretched for miles. Hopefully, she had not threaded far.” The prince said in thought as he tried to recall where you had escaped to the past times. “Unless…” He trailed. “Unless what?” Aemond questioned. “Unless she found a horse— I gave strict orders to the stableboy not to lend her one, but she always manages to bribe them.” Aemond’s grip on the hilt of his sword tightened. “If she had managed to mount a horse, where would she run off to my prince? I only ask because I am still quite unfamiliar here,”

“Oh gods,” Your brother suddenly paled, “She could reach town.” Dread spread to his stomach as his sister could be defenseless, squished amongst the crowd of smallfolk who would not hesitate to take advantage of her. “Or worse… she could reach the Mootons.” Aemond frowned, “Lord Tristan’s house?” He gritted, the gnawing feeling in his gut evermore persistent, and it only multiplied as your brother nodded. “I was told they left the capitol shortly after we had.” Your brother covered his mouth in deep thought. “I shall ride to Mooton, my prince.” Ser Aemond announced, ready to step out of the door, but the prince hindered him.

“No, you are unfamiliar with this place. I shall ride to Moonton and search for my sister there. In the meantime, order the guards in town to keep an eye on her, and you must continue to search this castle.” The prince decided, and Aemond nodded with understanding. Both men quickly descend the endless stairs to search for you. No guard nor tracking dog had found you by the shore nor the town— not even in the near lordship. When the night was coming, the king had ordered to expand the search into the sea, searching for you far and wide when, in truth, you were just a few yards away from them.

Aemond was growing frantic in his search for you, leaving no hall nor room unchecked. The moon was nearing its peak, and most of the guards had grown tired in their search, but not your knight who searched the castle like a madman. “Princess!” He yelled for the hundredth time of the day, still hoping that you would eventually answer his call. “You must rest, Ser Aemond… we will start fresh in the morning.” Ser Adam said cautiously, seeking out your sword protector, who returned to the gardens in search of you. “Rest?” Aemond spat. “We would not be in this situation if it weren’t for your incompetence!” He seethed, “As of now, the princess is alone and helpless in the night! And you are thinking of rest?! She— she had not eaten or… or drank anything for hours! She could have been taken or harmed! The princess of the realm is missing, and you think of rest?!” Aemond was ready to pounce on the knight, but he abruptly froze as a structure caught the side of his eye.

Aemond turned to his right, his gaze enclosed on the towering shrubs of the maze, and only then did it occur to him that no one had searched there. He pushed away his fellow knight, took the lamp in his hand, and ran towards the maze. Aemond turned endless corners and was constantly met by block pathways until he finally found you. Aemond wanted to fall on his knees in relief as he saw you seated on the grass, a pout on your lips as you boredly picked at the grass you sat upon. “Princess,” Aemond breathed out, rushing to you and knelt by your side to check if you were at all harmed. “They changed the maze,” Was the first thing you said. “I got lost.”

You looked upon your knight, his tired face filled with relief that slowly turned into anger with each moment you looked upon him through the light of the moon. “What were you thinking escaping your guard?!” Aemond roared, the dread in his stomach turning into a rage as you had subjected him to such emotions of anxiety and fear the whole day. You shrugged, having no reason or defense to escape Ser Adam. In truth, you had just wanted a moment alone— a moment without your knights’ constant presence or gaze. You did not intend to set a panic. You sighed as Ser Aemond pinched the bridge of his nose. “I feel faint; I have not eaten since the morning,” You said weakly, unaccustomed to hunger and lack of sustenance, even if it was just for a few hours. And with you venturing through the maze in the summer heat as you tried to find the way out, it had left you completely tired.

“Why had you not cried and yelled for help? Do you know the panic you had set? The King is furious; your brother is wrapped in fear, and The Queen—“ Aemond abruptly stopped speaking as he had not sensed any fear nor anxiety in the queen during your disappearance. Your mother was quite used to your escapes and no longer found care as she was certain that it was just a cry for attention on your part. “I did! I had been calling for you since the morning, but you never heard me!” You frowned, a pout returning to your lips. Ser Aemond had always answered your call, even if it were the measliest of matters, but when you needed him the most, it would seem he had not heard you.

Aemond sighed once more as you crossed your arms across your chest, a furrow in your brow that was a telltale sign of your irritation due to your hunger. Your knight reached into his pocket and retrieved a pastry wrapped in cloth that he had been carrying the whole day, knowing that you would undoubtedly be peckish when he eventually found you. The sour look on your face instantly disappeared as you were presented with the pastry Ser Aemond had brought for you.

Aemond bit his tongue as the pout on your lips quickly bloomed into a smile as you gratefully took the pastry from his hand and ate it, Aemond moving to sit by your side as the adrenaline had worn off and his tiredness quickly weighed him down. “I’m sorry,” You say as your knight rests his head upon the tall bush, a long, tired sigh leaving his lips. Aemond hummed, not wanting to believe you, but it was difficult as sincerity and remorse were heavy in your tone. “I truly am. I… I just wanted a few moments alone; I did not mean to alarm anyone.” You said softly, offering half of the pasty to your knight, who you were certain had no time of reprieve the whole day. Aemond did not have it in him to deny your offer to take a piece of the pastry to sedate his stomach. “Whatever intentions you have, you must know of the consequences of it, princess.” He said.

“I was only gone for a few hours— none of you needed to panic as you did. It’s quite an overreaction.” Aemond scoffed. “You dare blame us?” He questioned. “Now, it is our fault that we care?” You rolled your eyes at your knight. “Seeing how often I do this… it is an overreaction! You need not fret that much,” Aemond shook his head. “Are you aware of how well-loved you are? Not only by your family but as well as this whole entire kingdom?” Aemond questioned. “No guard ceased in finding you— some did not even wait for a boat to search for you in the sea; they readily swam. I passed the kitchens endless of times, and each time, I saw the cooks and maids praying for you to be found. Even your cat joined in on the search, accompanying Ser Adam as he searched for you in each room. It is not an overreaction, princess; it is an action brought out of adoration.”

Your gaze went to your lap. You bit your lip harshly as Ser Aemond waited for your reply, but he was only met with a stifled sniffle. “Princess?” He asked, trying to meet your gaze, but you would not let him. “Why are you crying? Does something hurt?” He asked, quickly springing up from his lax position and taking hold of your arm. “You made me feel guilty!” You cried, Aemond pursing his lips to hinder an amused smile that was twitching on his lips. Aemond froze as you suddenly buried your face onto his chest as you sobbed. Aemond sat there completely still, unknowing what to do, until he eventually cautiously wrapped his arms around your tremoring frame. He could not recall the last time he had embraced another person. He would think it was when he left home, his mother embracing him goodbye, but even he was uncertain. All he was certain was that though it was quite inappropriate to embrace the princess of the realm, it felt… nice.

“Do you… do you think they will hate me now?” You sobbed, and Aemond ran his hand through your hair, taking the moment that you both were away from any prying eyes. “No.” He said with conviction. “You’re just saying that to make me feel better!” You cried. Aemond breathed in deeply, “Princess, I don’t think anything you would do would make anyone hate you.” You raised your gaze to see if your knight was sincere or if he was saying such a thing so your tears would cease.

“I tried to, but I couldn’t,” Aemond confessed, unable to restrain himself as the words left his lips. “Oh,” You say, “Why did you want to hate me?” You asked, but Ser Aemond shrugged, moving the two of you to stand. “Come now, we must return, so they must cease their search.” You could only nod, deciding to let go of the matter for the moment and focus on being grateful that your knight had found you.

Taglist: anukulee ladyriverasafespace rebeccawinters

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slashingdisneypasta · 9 months ago

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Hades x Reader || Drabble

Plot: He's a villain; So you would- could never, ever fall in love with him.

'Sooner or later you're gonna want it. And the second- the second that happens, you know I'll sup in; have myself a real good day.' - Spike, Buffy the Vampire Slayer

... But he'll still wait patiently, for you.

Warnings: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Mischaracterisation?

Tagging: @asperol-with-izzy , @disney-android-foundation , @lady-love88 , @marinerainbow , @miss_understood , and @yesthetrashbin .

The instant that you see the villain in your house, waiting for you again lounging on your bed, smoke spread all over the floor; you groan. "Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh- "

Hades only shows a flicker or irritation by your obnoxiously drawn-out moan, before its snuffed out with a roll of his shoulders and he gets up from your bed. Now his head grazes the ceiling but he comes here so often, asking you on walks with him and bringing you dinner you couldn't have scrounged for yourself with a weeks pay despite how many time's you've told him no, never, so you're past the fear of him setting the house on fire. His yellow eyes glow in the dim room and, like always, it causes a little warmth to spready in the pit of your belly- you ignore it. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'll be gone in a sec, okay babe? I got places to be today, anyway. Just gimmie a minute, here."

"Why should I?"

"Uh- " This time real frustration passes over his face; settling for a few moments as he speaks. "Well you don't have that much of a choice, doya babe? So just shut up and listen, eh?"

Not-at-all scared, you just roll your eyes, setting your basket down on the side table and crossing your arms impatiently over your chest. "Fine. What do you want? I don't see any exotic fruits... another walk?"

Here, a smirk slips over his mouth; The flames atop his head give a happy crackle, and he gently shakes his head. "Not this time. Unless, I mean- you want to?? I can reschedule my meeting with the Fates, if you- " When he reads your expression, a familiar and cold 'hell no' written all over it, he sighs. Disappointed, but... not surprised at all, anymore. "Right. Right- uh, look babe. I just came here to let ya know, I... "

Hades? Lost for words?? That almost concerns you. Almost makes you lower your freezing cold exterior, and ask- ... but no. No. Instead, you tighten your arms over your chest and increase the impatient, expectant look in your eyes. Like, hurry up.

"... Okay. Look. I like you, (Full name). I might even go so far as to say I'm fallin' for ya- and thats new to me. I'm lost in some really unfamiliar waters, here," He chuckles, nervously, looking truly out of his depth for a moment. "Thats never happened to me before, this is new, and I- I- I'm tryin' to do it right. Sweep you off your feet; all that romantic jazz. Which I honestly think is kinda psychotic-... But uh... " His eyes lift from somewhere on the ground to your left, up to your eyes and he gives you another half-smirk. "I think we both know its not my thing."

... breaking your silence for a moment, you give a little tiny nod; not sure where this is going. "We do." You say quietly.

"Yea. Well, between you and me- its not workin' as well as you'd think, is it?"

"... no."

"Right, so," He rolls those broad shoulders again, giving his neck an uncomfortable stretch. "I'm uh- I'm gonna stop trying."

That gives you pause. " -What??"

"-not that I'm done here, exactly, no no no. I don't give up so easy, sweetheart. I'm gonna be here, or well- around. Waiting. And some day if... And someday when, you decide ya want me, then I'll come for ya. Just call."

Eyebrows furrowing, you suddenly remember something Hades said earlier. You'd almost forgotten it, because it seemed unimportant before, but now seems significant. "... Why are you going to meet with the fates?" Does he... know something? Is going to ask something?? What-

He just grins, infuriatingly. And his body begins to disappear into smoke, and your eyes widen- because- wait! "Remember what I just told you, babe. Keep it in mind, mull it over. I got nothin but time and I don't mind using it waiting on you. You're kinda worth it, eh?" -He didn't answer your question!

"But!- "

"Lookin' forward to your call, sweetheart."

"I'm not gonna call!- "

"Uhuh."

#just a little something. this ones been on my 'to write' list for a while #Disney Hades x Reader Drabble #Disney Hades x Reader #Disney Hades #Drabble #Disney Villain #Disney Villains #Disney Villain x Reader #Disney Villains x Reader

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luimagines · 13 days ago

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Link Has a Nightmare

Another commission!

They asked for Time, Twilight, and Warrior waking Reader up from a nightmare and Reader helping them go back to sleep. :)

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Twilight

Something kicked you.

You woke up in a start, gasping and sitting up at once. It was a harsh kick to the side that could have knocked the wind out of you if it was any harder.

You sat up and rubbed your abused side. Looking around, you tried to find the culprit that woke you up as suddenly and as brutally as they had.

Twilight was curled up beside you. His back was to you and he was shaking.

You hit his shoulder for good measure before thumping back down into your bed roll, putting more space between the two of you so he would be unable to kick you again. It was frustrating. By the looks of it, he was still sleeping. So you’re aware that it wasn’t something he did on purpose.

He kicked like a horse.

Not a fun way to wake up. It was going to bruise. You just knew it.

Grumbling, you tossed the blanket over your head and tried to go back to sleep.

Your eyes felt heavy and you blearily realized that your consciousness was beginning to fade as well. Darkness fell around you. A peaceful void-like cloud descended over you and covered you-

He kicks you again.

You sat up like a whip, turning to your side to face him head-on. You tossed the blanket off of you and moved back over, shaking Twilight in irritation.

He whimpers and it snaps you out of your rage.

You notice that he’s still asleep and that there’s a pained, almost horrified look on his expression. Nightmare, you think to yourself and sigh. You shake him again, gently this time, but it still doesn’t seem to do the trick.

You look around camp for Wolfie, but there doesn’t seem to be sight of the four-legged companion of the group. “The one time you’re not here,” You say under your breath. With a shake of your head, you take it upon yourself to be the help that Wolfie cannot give. “Move over Twilight.”

Turning him on his back, you grab your blanket and drape it over yourself. In turn, you drape yourself over Twilight, taking the place of his blanket for the night. At once his expression changes and you can see him compensate for the added weight by taking deeper breaths. His expression softens and his muscles relax. You shift as carefully as you can, making yourself comfortable on top of him.

With a deep breath, you tuck yourself under his chin and adjust the blanket as needed around both of you. Twilight’s arms come up and wrap around you. His grip is firm but comfortable.

He is very warm.

You put your ear on his chest, listening to his heartbeat and letting the warmth of your body and his combine into one. The heat, the steady drum, and the plushness of the fur and the blanket settle your mind and body. Your eyes get heavy at once.

You both sleep uninterrupted after that.

Time

You awoke to something amiss.

You weren’t sure what it was. You were still covered in the blanket. There was no fire outside of the pit. There was no sound of battle or clashing steel. Everything was quiet. Calm.

You sit up. Rubbing your eyes, you decide to look around.

Something was nagging you in the back of your head. You weren’t sure what it was, but you didn’t like the implications. Unable to shake off the unpleasant feeling, you stand up and begin to look over the boys around the camp.

They were all sound asleep, curled up into their bed rolls. Some were curled up tighter than others but that was beside the point.

Someone gasped.

It was short. The sound spiked your heartrate, instilling a sense of urgency and panic into your already heightened anxiety.

Spinning on your heel, you tried to find the source of the sound.

Time was lying down on his back, arms over his face. Because of that, it was hard to see his expression. You thought he was awake. You knew he had trouble sleeping on most nights.

“Time?” You whispered, not wanting to wake anyone else up. “Link? You ok?”

He didn’t answer and instead shivered something fierce. His breath hitched again and he turned around and curled up into himself. He looked like he was in pain. You doubted he was awake at once and frowned.

“Link?” You bent down next to him and shook his shoulder. “Time? Old Man, wake up.”

He groaned and gasped again. You frown harder. You didn’t like the look of this. Whatever he was dreaming about was doing him no favors. You tried to shake him with a little more fuss whatever had plagued his mind was not letting him go.

“No-!” He groaned and tried to fight you off.

“Stop it,” You begged. You weren’t sure who you were asking but the words slipped past your mouth anyway. Time whined and your heart broke with him.

“It’s ok,” You say instead. You rub soothing circles onto his back. “You’re safe here. We won’t let them hurt you.”

He takes a breath, waking up somewhat. His eyes blink open. You would have thought that he would have been more distraught given whatever nightmare he was trapped in. But he doesn’t open them all the way. Instead, his eyes catch you and he reaches his hand out to you.

Something tight clenches around your heart as you let him take your hand. His grip is brutal and you think there’s a tear in the one eye he’s allowed you to see.

“I’ve got you,” You whispered and settled down next to him. “You’re ok. Everything’s ok.”

Time says your name. It’s faint. It’s a whisper.

“Shh…” You run your hands over his hair, brushing it gently over his scar and behind his ear. “Sleep. I’m here this time. I won’t let them hurt you.”

His eye gets heavy but he listens and falls asleep again.

Warrior

Warrior shot up in a flash. His chest was heaving and his heart was pounding. He had woken up in a cold sweat, his blanket and layers pooling around his hips as he ran his hands through his hair. He pulled, relishing in the pain, in the distraction it provided from the images in his head.

You groaned and rolled over, blearily looking over at him. You sat up as well, looking around the group. Everyone else was still asleep. No one seemed to have heard him.

“Warrior?” You rubbed your eyes. “Captain? You ok?”

He was panting, hand over heart with his eyes shut tight. You struggled to wake up faster to help him. You still felt so tired. You’re entirely sure why you had woken up with him. You’re not the closest one to him. Wind and Sky were between you but they were still dead to the world around them.

Warrior didn’t answer you. You grunted and got up, keeping your blanket slung around your shoulders as you tried to not trip over the other two heroes. You might have kicked Sky in the foot, but he didn’t wake up so you elected to pretend nothing happened.

You dropped heavily next to Warrior and slung part of the blanket around his back.

“Link?” Your voice was groggy from disuse and your tongue was slow. You hoped that calling him by his name would get through to him better than any other thing he’s been called in his life. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” He says at once. His own voice isn’t as groggy as yours, but rather it’s haunted and strained. He sounds as if he’s in physical pain and biting the bullet to keep from screaming. “It’s… It’s nothing. It’s nothing. I’ll be alright. Go back to bed.”

You grunt again. You’ve never known him to be a horrible liar. Warrior must be shaken up worse than you thought. You huff and drop your body weight onto his side. The physical contact is enough to shock back into reality for a moment. He goes still and audible gulps. You say nothing and slowly can feel the pull of sleep dragging you under once more.

“...What are you doing?”

You jolt awake again and take a deep breath. “Helping. Shush. Bedtime.”

“That’s not-”

“Shush,” You lean over, putting a finger to his lips. You can feel the light trembling of his body. It’s annoying. How dare this happen?! At this hour?! To Warrior of all people! You scowl and it catches Warrior’s attention. “We’re going back to bed. This is over.”

“But-”

“Shush,” You stress again and push him back down to his bed roll. You instinctively snuggle closer and flop your limbs on top of him. Warrior grunts but doesn’t attempt to push you off.

“Is this allowed-?”

“You’re going to wake up the others,” You lift your hand up and drop it onto his chest, smacking him using only the force of gravity. “No more words. Sleep only. Now hush, the monsters in your head can’t get you here.”

Warrior tenses for a moment and you think you might have overstepped your bounds. Your eyes grow heavy once more, locking you in place without the intention of letting you go anytime soon.

He’s cold from the sweat that had chilled him to the bone. His heartbeat is strong and still a tad panicked. You center yourself on it and take a deep breath. The Hero of Eras is actually quite comfortable if you had to admit it to yourself.

Slowly, his arms come up to wrap around you and keep you close. You can vaguely feel his nose in your hair as he curls around you. Limbs intertwine with one another, like puzzle pieces fitting into place. You shift to make yourself comfortable as well, tucking him into the crook of your neck as your arms come around him.

You struggle to lift the falling blanket back around your bodies as your limbs get heavier and heavier. You can hear Warrior sigh beneath you. His heart rate begins to calm down and you think you can feel his hand in your hair, carding his fingers through it gently.

You pass out in an instant.

You wake up less than three hours later. Someone else was shaking you. You look up as much as you can. Even in his sleep, Warrior continues to have a death grip over you and it makes it difficult to see the offender to your sleep schedule.

Wild hisses softly when he sees you and winces. “...Sorry. I was trying to wake up Warrior for his shift. I didn’t know you were there.”

You say nothing and glare at the champion until he gets the message to leave the two of you alone.

Wild, not getting the message, looks over to see if any of his efforts have woken the captain up. You reach up and bat at his hand. The action was cat-like in nature, but one solid swipe to the back of his hand had Wild backing up and stepping away from Warrior.

To his credit, Warrior continued to soundly sleep through the movement. Exhaustion weighed heavy on him even now and you were certain that he still needed as much as he could get until the sun came up.

“I’ll do it,” You mutter and try to wiggle your way away from Warrior.

No dice.

If anything, despite his unconsciousness, Warrior tightens his grip around you and snuggles close in his sleep.

You huff and look back up at Wild. He’s biting his lip and you’re not sure if it’s a nervous tick that he’s always had, or if he’s trying to keep from laughing at your predicament.

“Not one word,” You grumble and plop back over Warrior, accepting your fate for the remaining hours of the night.

“I’ll wake up the Rancher,” Wild snickers. “He’s usually up before the sunrise anyway.”

“You do that.”

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader #lu twilight #lu warrior #lu warriors #lu time

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nocasdatsgay · 10 days ago

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First Winter Solstice: A Neapolitan Bonds Fic

Rating: T | Word Count: 1611 |Pairing: Reader/Eris/Azriel |

Neapolitan Bonds Masterlist | Read on A03 | Read Below

Summary: You convince Az and Eris to let you decorate the Forest House for Winter Solstice as new Lady of Autumn.

A/N: Happy belated Solstice. I decided to whip this up I since I was getting in the grove of writing again. I will update the wips before new years (I hope). I hope everyone has a safe and happy holiday this week :D

Tagging: @mybestfriendmademe @pit-and-the-pen @hieragalbatorixdottir @thisblogisaboutabook @lilah-asteria @daycourtofficial @ysmtttty @crazylokonugget @st4r-girl-official @tele86 @stargirlrchive @laughterafter @scarsandallaz @bobbyisbored @chaos-on-stand-bi @romantastyreaser28 @laylagrace403 @skysayshi If I missed you or tagged you by accident let me know.

You laid out the floor plans in front of your mates in Eris’s office, both of them staring at the stack of scrolls. Eris was the first to move, picking up one roll,opening it, and eyeing it skeptically. You waited, hardly controlling your excitement. Your anxiety spiked however when Eris frowned.

“You’re decorating every floor of the house?”

“Well. Yes. But I promise it’s not as excessive as it looks.” A lie. “I planned on taking the Mabon and Equinox decorations and repurposing them. I swear I stayed under my budget.”

That made Az chuckle.

Eris, however, turned even more serious. “Who gave you a budget?”

“I-“ his anger was palpable and you froze up, eye stinging. “I’m sorry I just. I gave myself a budget so you wouldn’t worry-“

“Yourself?” Eris studied you for a moment. “And no one told you to do it?”

“No.” You replied slowly.

“Thank the gods,” Eris instantly relaxed. “I thought I would have to murder Farron.” Your confusion must have been evident. His gaze softened. “My love. You are the Lady of this court. Your word is equal to mine and Azriel’s. No one is to tell you what you can and cannot do.”

Right. You were still getting used to it. Even mentally preparing didn’t actually help. You were used to working in the background and now? Not even been mated for half a year and advisors were asking you for opinions and orders. Which was part of the reason you had a stack of plans for the winter solstice.

“So, does this seem reasonable?” You asked meekly.

Eris shrugged and looked at Az. “That’s more your call.”

“It should be fine,” Az brushed his hair back with his hand, stretching out his wings. “I trust you. Don’t think it’s lost on me you brought this up right before we head to the continent.”

He gave you that smirk that still made your heart flutter. “I wanted it to be some of a surprise.” You shrugged, face heating.

“As long as you don’t burn the Forest House down, I think it will be fine,” Eris got up and gave you a kiss on the forehead. “I have a meeting with the advisors. I’ll see you at dinner.”

You waited until he left to squeal and dance in your seat. “Oh you’re both going to love it I promise.”

“You know you’re cute when you're happy.” Az looked you over, his hazel eyes glinting. “Come here, baby.”

You knew exactly what he was planning but playfully rolled your eyes and got on his lap. You made sure to magically lock the door first.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

While Eris and Az were on the continent you kept yourself busy managing court and decorating. Autumn wasn’t big on the Winter Solstice. Being close to the border of Winter, some villages in the North were more festive than where you were. That made it easier to obtain some items you needed. It took a week but the decorations were finished the day before they returned.

The day of their return you were full of jitters. You needed everything to be perfect. Especially since it was the night before the Winter solstice itself. The weather seemed to be cooperating, snow lightly falling as you waited outside on the steps for them to arrive. You wrote they had to come in through the front so you could show them in. The sun had set by the time you went out to greet them.

You were bundled up in your furs, one of the smoke hounds, Bronte sitting by you patiently. The moment they winnowed in, his tail wagged and thumped on the steps. Eris clicked his tongue and Bronte shot off to them, having permission to jump and yelped. You laughed behind your hand as they both took turns giving him pets.

“Did you watch over Y/N?” Eris asked, scratching his ear.

“He was the best boy,” you grinned and Bronte barked. “Come on, it’s cold!” You dramatically shivered.

“This is nothing,” Az grinned. “If anything this is warm to me.”

You tugged on his bond playfully. When they reached the top of the steps, you opened the door to the entrance hall.

Az’s face lit up with a grin at the sight of the tinsel and garland running down along the walls.

“This is nice,” he replied. You took his hand.

“Close your eyes. I’ll walk you. There’s a surprise.”

You looked over at Eris who pretended to close his eyes but opened them to look around. You felt his bond hum with approval as you both guided Az down the hall. Az didn’t know you’d been planning this with Eris since Autumn Equinox. You had to bribe the shadows- well, you blocked them when you’d meet and talk and scold any that eavesdropped. It seemed they listened.

Eris as High Lord never had time to make an extravagant deal about the Winter Solstice. Not in a way he felt his mate deserved. So when you asked, he immediately gave you plans he’d sat on for nearly a decade. Those same floor plans he pretended to look at a week ago. You added things, ordered the decorations with the help of Farron. Now was the moment of truth.

You led them into the throne room and squeezed his hand. “Okay you can look now.”

Whatever Az expected, it wasn’t what he saw. His smile faltered, true shock taking over his features. The whole throne room had multi-colored fae lights, several large evergreens placed by the windows, and garland and tinsel on the walls. His breath hitched when he saw who was standing by the fireplace and one of the trees. His mother, Feyre, Nyx, Rhysand, Cassian, and Nesta were all waiting patiently.

Nyx, seeing his uncle’s eyes were opened, was jumping, wings flapping excitedly. “Are you surprised?!”

“I think he is bud,” Rhys gave you all an apologetic look.

“Wait,” Az looked at you then Eris. “You were in on this?”

“It was his plan originally.” You grinned, squeezing his hand and tugging the bond. “I just worked my magic.”

“She invited them,” Eris replied. You were quickly learning with you and Az, he was somewhat humble. You rolled your eyes and he added. “But I knew they’d be here.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Az muttered. His eyes looked a little watery. “You know I- it’s not-“

“Come on, we have presents to open.” You tugged his hand. He gave you a small smile in return for cutting in.

Chairs appeared. You all spent the next hour chatting, passing around presents. You joked that this was Az’s present from you before handing him a wrapped box. You then had Greta, one of the maids who’d been helping you all week, bring tea. You slipped her a gift of her own as you took the trays. Eventually Nyx got restless. He started to run around the room letting shadows and Bronte chase him. His laughter echoed as did Bronte’s little barks.

Feyre chuckled. “He’s almost 14 and he still has the energy of a toddler.”

“He can use that energy to chase this one for me.” Nesta rubbed her stomach. She showed more than when you last saw her, the loose dress draping around her bump. “Not even big enough to fully show and they’re already kicking the shit out of me.”

“Now why ever would anyone do that you?” Rhys muttered.

“Don’t worry Nes. I’ll teach them to kick Rhys in the shins as soon as they walk,” Cassian gave his mate a kiss while she flipped off Rhys.

It was late when everyone left. Az promised Feyre and Rhys they’d see them tomorrow for her birthday dinner. He also convinced his mother to stay the night and they’d winnow her home after the dinner.

“Thank you,” Az said later in your rooms. “You didn’t have to do all that.”

“I did too. I like the Winter Solstice. And it’s your tradition.” You shrugged. “It really was Eris’s plans.”

“Don’t look at me like that,” Eris waved a hand at Az, who was in fact looking at him like that. “Don’t get used to it either. Next year it won’t be a surprise.”

“You’re doing this next year?” He asked, looking between the two of you.

“If you want. Then you’ll have a whole week to enjoy the decorations instead of one day.” You smiled, pleased with yourself. “We’re a multi-cultural court now. We’re celebrating all the holidays. I’m planning The Breaking Of Dawn’s New Year as we speak.”

“I conveniently forgot about that,” Eris muttered.

“Says the fae male up at dawn most days anyways,” you shot him a playful look. “It’ll be fun. Thesan is sending me Dawn grapes and I have the morning feast already prepped.”

“What are the grapes for?” Az tilted his head slightly, wings scrunching in slightly.

“You eat 12 grapes for each month. It brings luck.” You yawned. You glanced at the clock and exhaustion hit you hard. “But can we talk about it tomorrow? I love you but I’m tired.”

Az immediately stepped up and swept you off your feet. You yelped and Eris laughed loudly.

“What?” Az asked as he carried you to the bed. “You said you were tired.”

You wanted to argue and yet your mind went blank as soft brushes of shadows ran through your hair.

“Not fair,” you muttered, your eyes suddenly feeling heavy.

Az just hummed. You didn’t hear what else he or Eris had to say, shadows muffling sound as they put you to bed and let you drift off to sleep.

#Neapolitan bonds #azriel acotar #azriel #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #azriel x reader #Azriel/Eris/Reader #winter solstice #fluff

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dr-spectre · 4 months ago

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Hey all, so i wanted to discuss something a little bit different compared to my usual Splatoon ramblings because i have something that's been floating in my brain for a while now and I really wanna talk about it! But don't worry, I'll tie it back to Splatoon in this blog post!

So i have been seeing a lot of criticisms towards the new "hit game" Concord and a lot of it is very VERY well deserved. And one of the MANY criticisms is aimed towards the character designs and mostly on these characters who have become punching bags for the entire gaming community.

NOW! Let me come and say it, i am NOT going to be defending these designs at all, i am NOT a professional character designer but, these designs are flat-out dogshit and it's not for the reasons you think. I am not saying these character designs are bad because "WAHH!!!! FAT PEOPLE!!! WAHH!!! I HATE BLACK PEOPLE!! WAHH!! I CAN'T GOON TO THIS CHARACTER NOOO!!! WAHHH!!! I ONLY WANT STRAIGHT WHITE BARBIE DOLLS TO JERK OFF TO!! WAHH!!" If you're someone like... ahem.... asmondgold. And whine about how you can't goon to these characters and you're scared of fat and black people. Then you need to fuck off and genuinely go outside. And like... Idk, jump into a pit of lava.

The reasons why these designs suck is because they have terrible silhouettes, poor balancing, too many random colours that have no harmony whatsoever, lack of strong shapes and a lack of any clear cut qualities to tell us who the fuck these characters are. A good character design will tell you who a character is based on looks alone.

Let's take a look at how to properly do character design in a video game, shall we?

We will first start off with an iconic tank character, Heavy from TF2.

Heavy has a strong use of squares on his body, arms and hands, showing us that he is a strong and meaty character. Squares are used in larger characters to show that they are durable and strong. Heavy also has appropriate accessories on his body to show us what kind of character he is, like his bandolier, pouch, fingerless gloves and tactical looking vest. His legs are also small compared to the rest of his body which tells us that he probably isn't the fastest runner out there.

All of these simple design decisions the characters designers chose to include add up to create an iconic character who you can gather that he is a large and in charge weapons expert from the design alone.

Tell me something, what the FUCK do you get from this character?

He's a big person... That's it. I can barely gather any sort of character traits from this character. There's nothing. THEIR GUN IS FUCKING BORING TOO! AT LEAST HEAVY HAS A BIG ASS GUN! THAT'S JUST A BASIC BITCH ASSUALT RIFILE!

Now let's look at another iconic tank character. Reinhardt from Overwatch.

Reinhardt has a VERY strong silhouette, with his iconic helmet with the 3 spikes/horns, his giant shoulder pads, the pointy tips on his boots, his... groan... flap? thingy? idfk what that is but anyways, Reinhardt is an iconic tank character because his design is super well balanced, his concept of a futuristic knight is dope, and the lion emblem on arm showcase Rein's personality and origins.

I genuinely get nothing from this design. Like... Fuck all, i get NOTHING!!!

They are a tank character with a big gun... Okay? Is there... any cool details? Uh... there's a tiny flag.... What the fuck is that supposed to tell me about the character? The silhouette is boring, the character looks like a Fallout knock off. It's just... BORING!!

I could talk about the other tanks in Overwatch and how incredibly well designed they are compared to Concord's "anchors" and other classes but i don't wanna be here all day. Just know that D.VA slaps, Doomfist slaps, Ramattra slaps, ALL OF THEM SLAP HARD AND HAVE SUPER GOOD SILHOUETTES AND COLOURS!!

Now for our final "tanky" design, let's roll it back to Splatoon and talk about a character who is bigger compared to the rest of the cast.

BIG MAN!

His silhouette is actually so well done and is a masterpiece in character design, it is so incredibly distinctive and unique from other characters. He has a unique headpiece too, he has these droopy eyes that give him a relaxed look. He has some cool patterns, he's just a really well designed character that you can gather his personality from really well.

The reason why Concord's character designs fail is because it feels like Sony brought in a novice fashion designer to make characters in an hour and call it a day. The only designs from that game i can say with my full chest are okay are these guys, and even then they have ISSUES!

Haymar is supposed to be this fire user yet nothing tells me that they use fire. It's so easy to... oh i don't know... USE MORE RED?!?!? ADD FIERY PATTERNS?!?! WHY IS SHE COVERED IN FUCKING ANAL BEADS?!??! HELLO?!?!??

Roka is just.. fine, her colours suck but... I guess i like the helmet?

When the best looking characters out of your fucking 5V5 HERO SHOOTER are just... eh? You know got a massive problem. If we take a game like TF2 you can see just how well the designs are at showing the player what kind of personality and traits they have.

Scout has rolled up pants with tight socks on, bandages on his hands and a cap on his head, showing us that Scout is a fast and somewhat reckless character who gets into trouble but can get out due to his speed and wit. Medic has a simple pallet of white and red which are common colours used in hospitals and doctors. I could go on but you get the point.

If you're going to create a new hero shooter with a large roster, for the love of god, actually have characters with better silhouettes, colour balancing, accessories, etc.

Take a page out of their books and come back with a better fucking game. Or not. Sony... You piece of shit. You ain't beating the "PS5 has no games" allegations with these wack ass games. (This is coming from someone who has a PS5.)

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sincerestlove · 10 months ago

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Anxious

hello again! hope you enjoy this short one. and thank you for the request!

Request: Helloo can I request one where like Regina keeps asking reader to come to a party but reader doesn’t want to, but like Regina is forcing too much so reader comes to the party and like have a sort of panic attack because of the noises and crowds and Regina comfort reader etc? Thanks!!

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warnings: Anxiety and mental health struggles - please read at your own discretion. anxious reader, comforting and supportive regina.

"Gina, please don't make me go."

The blonde rolled her eyes at you, putting the final touches on her makeup, lips puckered as she stared intently in the mirror.

You had been fidgeting on Regina's bed, feeling anxiety bubble in the pit of your stomach at the thought of attending tonight's party. Karen invited half of the student body to her house tonight to celebrate her birthday, which meant it would be crowded. You hated large crowds.

"Y/N, it'll be fine. I'll literally be with you the entire time, I promise." The blonde capped her lipstick, turning around to walk over to you, hands coming to rest on your shoulders. Her bright eyes softened as she met your gaze, rubbing circles into your shirt soothingly. She could always tell when your anxiety spiked. "Listen, if things get too overwhelming, we can leave, okay? Just take a deep breath."

You nodded, taking hold of her hand and squeezing to bring your heart rate down.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.

You were wrong.

It was horrible.

As soon as you pulled up to the house, you could feel the bass booming, speakers blaring, filling every corner of the house. You held onto Regina's hand for dear life as she led you through the house, looking for your friends.

Gretchen and Karen were talking animatedly in the kitchen, sipping on bright red solo cups filled with god knows what alcoholic concoction. Your nose turned up at the smell of sweat and cheap liquor that hit your senses.

The two girls greeted you and Regina, pulling you into a hug. You smiled nervously back at them, an uncomfortable chill running up your spine.

"Here, Y/N!" Karen stuffed a cup into your hand, encouraging you to take a sip. You obliged, cringing at the burn in your throat. Regina smiled at you knowingly, taking the cup from your hand and replacing it with orange juice.

You mouthed a quick thank you, taking a generous gulp. The three girls fell into conversation as you stood close by the blonde, curling into her side. You did your best to drown out the music - but it was so loud you literally couldn't even hear yourself think.

You felt the familiar claws of anxiety digging into your skin, little beads of sweat forming on your forehead.

There were so many people crowding the house, it felt like oxygen was being sucked out of your lungs, making it harder to breathe.

"Gina, I-I'm going to the bathroom." You mumbled and pulled away without waiting for a response, fumbling your way toward the bathroom. Luckily, you had been to Karen's enough time to know where it was. You locked yourself inside, taking a deep, ragged breath in, feeling the burn of your lungs. Every breath you took felt like it wasn't enough.

Your hands began to sweat and your skin flushed, suddenly feeling too hot in your thin blouse. With shaky hands, you shut off the lights, sat on the toilet seat and caged your head between your legs, praying for the noise to stop.

You weren't sure how much time had passed before fists were banging on the door, jiggling the door handle. "Y/N? Are you in there?" Regina's voice flooded the room. "Let me in, please."

You were barely able to get up and unlock the door, falling back on your butt onto the floor. Regina barged in, closing and locking the door again behind her. She decided to keep the lights off, kneeling beside your cowering, shaking frame. "Hey, I'm here, baby. It's okay, I'm here." She took you into her embrace, holding on to you tightly.

"It's too loud, Gina." You spoke quietly, hands covering your ears. Regina nodded, helping you to stand up.

"Okay, Y/N, it's okay. I'm sorry, baby. Let's go home. Come on, let's go." She whispered to you encouragingly as she led the pair of you out the front door and into her Jeep.

Regina held your hand the whole drive back to her house, ushering you inside quickly and into her bed. She helped you change into a pair of loose sweatpants and a t-shirt, wiping your makeup off before tucking you into her bed.

The rest of the night was filled with apologies and sweet words from Regina, your favorite snacks (that she kept in her bedside drawer just for you), a Netflix movie and soft kisses, until the two of you fell asleep wrapped in each other's embrace.

hope you enjoyed!

as always, please leave requests if you have any! :)

#regina george #regina george x reader

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tojirights · 8 months ago

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tags: 18+ SMUT, MDNI, drug use, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, casual hookup

toji had been your dealer consistently for quite a while now, and you were well aware of his reputation. you always did your best to not go visit him alone, knowing damn well you'd let him persuade you into falling into bed with him.

but you were insanely bored and had the weekend off so you were in need of some more bud. unfortunately, everyone and their mother seemed to be busy so you suck it up and plan to meet with toji alone. when you pull up to his door, which you also knew was a bad idea, he opens the door with a smirk. “hey sweet thing.” he speaks, already making you feel weak in the knees. “by yourself tonight?” toji raises an eyebrow, seeing just you and your purse. with a sigh, you nod. "yeah everyone bailed on me this weekend. just me, some takeout and shitty movies." you say with a small laugh.

the way toji's eyes scan your body makes a pit form in your stomach. he clicks his tongue and shakes his head. "mh, can't let that happen. come in, why dontcha?" he steps aside, gesturing for you to enter. you hesistate, pulling your lip between your teeth. "i uhh... i shouldn't. not really looking to end up on the news tonight." you tease, watching as toji's eyes falter before he laughs. "i like you, kid. c'mon, i got some bud rolled and ready. on me tonight."

free weed? now you may be dumb but you're not an idiot.

against your better judgement, you accept his invite in. his place was... cleaner than expected... but the smell of the freshly ground weed hit your nose immediately and you let yourself relax. what's the worst that could happen, huh? toji wouldn't kill you or anything, right?

right?

sitting down on his rather comfortable couch, you look at the rolling tray with three blunts ready to be smoked. "as my guest, you have first dibs." toji says, placing himself next to you on the cushion. there's enough space where you aren't feeling suffocated by his presence, but you're fully aware of his body heat.

with a shaky hand, you make your choice and make no hesitation to spark up. your nerves start to settle after a few minutes, smoke flowing around you after your first hit. toji watches diligently, a smirk growing on his face as he watches your muscles stop tensing. "good shit huh?" he asks, taking his first hit. you sit back with your eyes closed, taking in the effects.

you supress a cough as the second hit burns your throat, and that shit hurt but you won't let toji think you can't take a hit so you do your best to suck up the pain. "fuck." you cough, unable to hold it and toji just chuckles. you didn't even see him light up the other joint, but he's already somehow burned through more than you. as the pain resides, you're overwhelmed with the euphoric feeling that you've come to rely on.

toji's still respecting your space, but it somehow feels like the room has shrunk and all you can think about is how close his knee is to yours. your body heat starts to spike, a telltale sign of arousal starting to burn in your gut and you beg it not to show. you're no stranger to bud putting you in the mood, but now is not the time.

"holdin' up alright doll?" toji hums, breaking you from your trance. "h-hm? oh yeah." you fumble your words as you turn to face him. your brain chemisty must be fucked, because the moment your eyes meet his, your self restraint all but snaps. "fuck... toji, i-i..." you sound like an idiot, and your cheeks burn with embarrassment. you try to hide it with an awkward laugh, but it gets lost in your throat when toji's hand rests on your cheek and captures your lips in his.

you would like to say you pulled away and slapped him right across the face, but you instead immediately crawl into his lap. strong hands wrap around your waist to grip the fat of your ass, earning a groan from toji. "y'been dreamin' of this, haven't you baby girl?" toji uses his grip to basically force you to grind on his quickly hardening cock, making you whimper against his lips.

'never fuck your dealer'

your number one rule is quickly disappearing as your hands desperately tug at the hem of toji's shirt, the sudden need to see him unclothed, taking over your senses. he does the same to you, removing your top and expertly unhooking your bra from behind your back. "you clean?" toji pants between kisses, lifting his hips so he can free his cock. you nod, doing the same just a little clumsier. "and on the pill." your response almost makes toji laugh, but he can't help but to find those simple little words so sexy.

there wasn't much more hesitation after you both cleared eachother, your leggings barely making it off your ankles before you feel the head of toji's cock slipping into your needy pussy. you brace for the push in, knowing damn well that toji's cock is bigger than any you've taken in the past. you whine with every hard inch of cock that spreads you open, hearing the squelching sound your pussy only makes after months of not getting fucked properly.

"fuckin' hell kid..." toji groans as his cock forces its way in, all the way until your ass hits his thighs. you're shaking as you try to accommodate not only the length, but the girth of toji's cock. reaching behind you, you grab the last joint off the table and light up, taking as big of an inhale as you can. before you can exhale, toji's grabbing your jaw and pulling your face to his so that you have no choice but to blow the smoke right into his mouth.

you pause now, sitting in toji's lap with his cock pressing snugly against your cervix. it's almost too much, your head spinning as the weed takes over your senses once more. toji takes the still lit joint and takes his own hit before doing the same and blowing it down your throat this time.

and when toji senses your hesitation to keep moving on his cock, he doesn't waste another moment in reaching around to grab a handful of ass, slowly bouncing you up and down on his shaft. "w-wait toji-" you gasp, hands on his chest to brace yourself but toji only gives you a second to breathe before he's lifting you higher and fucking up into you with a harsh pace.

"see? y'didn't need me to wait, sweetheart." toji coos, his grip tightening to keep you lifted so his cock meets no resistance. "your pussy was made for taking cock." he grunts, taking the still burning joint from your hands to blow more smoke in your face. your thighs shake as you keep yourself balanced, each deep stroke of his cock has you seeing stars as intoxication takes over. every nerve in your body screams with pleasure as toji fucks into you relentlessly.

"o-oh fuck toji." you whine, eyes screwed shut as the coil in your gut threatens to snap at any moment. toji's quick to flip your position, flinging you onto your back as he now looms on top of you. "wanna feel y'cum on my cock." he breathes in your ear, hitching one of your legs up around his waist. "s-so close." you mewl, back arching off the leather couch as toji's cock hits you just right. your cunt clenches around his length, waves of pleasure just about to crash over you and-

your eyes widen as toji's hand wraps around your throat, just enough pressure to make your head dizzier than it already was. "ooh yes that's a pretty baby." toji moans, hips stuttering as his own orgasm quickly approaches. you gasp for air as toji's hand tightens just a bit, and that's enough to push you over the edge. your legs spasm as you cunt squeezes toji's cock. wave after wave crashes into you, and toji doesn't relent his brutal pace.

if anything, he quickens his thrusts. "good fuckin' girl." he sighs, letting your pussy milk the cum from his balls. as toji cums, you feel it fill you from within, so much that it starts to leak down his length and onto the couch as he pulls out. you try your best to hold it in, not make a mess on his furniture, but his seed slides right down your inner thigh and mixes with your own juices to make quite a mess.

"o-oh god i'm so sorry-" you're immediately embarrassed and try to pull your panties back on to stop it from leaking but toji pulls you onto his lap and reaches for the end of the blunt. you whine as you feel the sticky seed leaking onto toji's pants. "sorry?" he cocks a brow, hands finding their way back to your ass again. "the only thing you should be sorry for is that now i need to keep givin' you free weed." he says with a chuckle. "i keep good pussy well taken care of." he whispers in your ear, earning a shudder that runs down your spine.

fuck...

never sleep with your deal. unless maybe he's hot.

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rainydayathogwarts · 5 months ago

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ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇʀ ᴛʜɪɴɢꜱ ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Here's my navigation for my other masterlists! **to indicate smut

ᴇᴅᴅɪᴇ ᴍᴜɴꜱᴏɴ

Reputation - 'In which Nancy leaves you a crying mess after you breakup and you find comfort in the person you'd least expect.' coming soon...

Watch don't touch** - Eddie x reader x Steve - In which Eddie loves to show people what they want but can't have and Steve just happens to want you, Eddie's precious girlfriend.

Polaroid Evidence pt.1 - Your brother Jonathan doesn't approve of your boyfriend even when he's always over, but your mom and younger brother love him.

Polaroid Evidence pt. 2

Please, please, please, don't bring me to tears when I just did my makeup so nice** - Eddie likes to make a mess of you when you're all dolled up for him.

bf!Eddie takes you to get your nipples pierced

A lounge chair and half a bikini** - Eddie and gf!reader get frisky in Steve's backyard and he watches from the room above with the promise of bringing down towels so they can swim.

Creep - Eddie has a crush on king Steve's girlfriend, the cheerleader who will always remind him that he is just a creep. based on the song creep by radiohead.

ꜱᴛᴇᴠᴇ ʜᴀʀʀɪɴɢᴛᴏɴ

Roll the dice* - Steve wants you but your play thing named Nancy Wheeler does too.

Realising you don't hate each other at all

Watch don't touch** - Eddie x reader x Steve - In which Eddie loves to show people what they want but can't have and Steve just happens to want you, Eddie's precious girlfriend.

Red BMW** - you and Steve are in a relationship and just happen to have sex in the back of his car in a restaurant’s parking lot. When you're done, a clueless Dustin knocks on your window.

A lounge chair and half a bikini** - Eddie and gf!reader get frisky in Steve's backyard and he watches from the room above with the promise of bringing down towels so they can swim.

'In which reader is dared to give Steve a lap dance at a party, so she insists to do it in private, but Steve just can't keep his hands to himself.' coming soon...

ʀᴏʙɪɴ ʙᴜᴄᴋʟᴇʏ

Coworker's ex pt.1 - You have an undying crush on your ex's coworker and aren't afraid to act up on it.

Coworker's ex pt.2

Coworker's ex final pt.

Fire pit confessions - Robin has a crush on her seemingly straight friend, who decides she needs to finally confess her feelings at one of Steve's extravagant parties.

'In which Nancy and Robin finally start becoming friends until you come along.' coming soon...

ʙɪʟʟʏ ʜᴀʀɢʀᴏᴠᴇ

My girl - Billy makes it clear to everyone that you're his but a particular Steve Harrington doesn't get the hint.

Caught - Reader sneaks out to meet Billy and gets caught.

'in which reader in fucking Steve behind his back and he finds out' billy x reader, reader x steve coming soon...

ᴊɪᴍ ʜᴏᴘᴘᴇʀ

Everybody knows that I'm a good girl, Officer** - Eddie and gf!reader get busted by Hopper, who insists on driving you home.

Unregistered vehicle** - Your housewarming sleepover with Nancy and Robin gets interrupted by the Chief of Police, knocking on your door about an unregistered vehicle. He takes you to the station to sort it out.

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Spiked berry punch - In which a girl tries hitting on you at a party and Nancy isn't having it.

'In which Nancy and Robin finally start becoming friends until you come along.' coming soon...

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He/you get turned on at the wrong time.**

#rainydayathogwarts #nancy wheeler x reader #nancywheeler #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #eddie munson #eddie x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley #robin x reader #masterlist #rainydayathogwarts masterlists

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certifiedlovergirlsstuff · 4 days ago

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last christmas | s.h. x gn!reader

“you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“then what better time to do it, finish the year off strong.”

robin lowly groaned, “yeah like a positive strong, not a fall on your face strong. i’m being honest to you when i say, don’t do this for steve harrington, it’s not worth it.”

tongue barely peeking out, eyes staring harshly at the folded notebook paper with the words, read me!, starting to blur together. you blinked harshly and gave a slight shake of your head before turning to face robin on your bed, her messy bangs curtaining her pitting gaze.

“look, first time i told steve i have a crush on him, he didn’t give any type of reaction. but i just have to knows these things, yes it’s extremely stupid, but i just want it to be out in the air so it’s gone from my brain.” you shrugged your shoulders tightly, “besides not like i have any type of chance with him anyway, pretty sure he’s set of the one of the food court girls.” trying for a joke but your tone of voice giving you away.

robin hung her head, “honestly anything at this point will be disastrous, but i’m here for you, like always.” giving a crook of a smile.

“hey you see the new girl? she’s kinda cute.” steve slid into the seat beside you, you on your lunch while steve was ignoring his job. you barely glanced his way, his words keeping you quiet, “aren’t you on the clock?” is all you said to him.

he clicked his tongue at that, “no one’s bothering us, robin and the new chick can handle it. wanted to stew in silence with you anyway.” giving a light nudge to your arm.

his words give you a moment of whiplash, nothing crash, but enough to have your stomach twist a bit. “you, uh- you going to robin’s get together?” stupid question that you know the answer to, but just needing to say something.

steve cocked his head at you, “course. not like i have anything better to do, but even if i did i’d ditch for her. and everyone, especially you.” things like that get you confused.

deciding now or never, with a slight tremor in your fingers, sliding out the bright white envelop you handed it in front of steve, “a christmas card with a little something extra, but i suggest you wait until you’re home.” rushing that last bit when you saw his fingers picking at the flap.

steve gave a quirked smile, “gave me a naughty gift?” his teasing words made your cheeks feel warm. you covered it up with an eye roll and a simple, “no stupid.”

you and steve don’t have matching days off, so you didn’t see each other for a week until robin’s little christmas hang. and those whole five days, you regretted your decision while also mentally standing your ground. what’s done is done, at least you did something very bold -and very stupid- but besides the point.

slowly sipping on your spiked eggnog, you spotted steve walking in your direction. the milk curdled in your stomach at the sight of his wobbly smile. “hey can i- can we go somewhere, private?” oh shit, it’s the conversation.

you nodded dumbly as you followed behind steve who lead you upstairs and what seemed to be robin’s bedroom. with the door shut you could barely hear the murmurs from the other side, locking you and steve inside your own bubble of brewing silence.

you sat on the edge of robin’s bed and played dumb, “so… what’s wrong?” watching how steve slowly turned on his heels to face you, and without saying a word his pointer and index fingers dipped into his front pocket then produced your folded note. you kept a poker face as well as steve.

“this is a nice note,” was how steve started his sentence. “and- and i have nothing against you. you’re an awesome and- and sweet person, i’d be extremely lucky if i get to call you mine one day. but i- i’m not sure if you’ve had your heart broken, but i have and it sucks, and i’m still slowly healing from that crap.”

you kept quiet as you let steve ramble, “and i think you’re just way too good for me. you deserve someone way better than me.” but i want you, is what you thought as baby tears gathered at your lash line. you just nodded along.

“and also… the new years thing.” that pulled an unexpected laugh from your lips. oh how you are just so naive and stupid, trying to ask steve to be your new years kiss then playing it off as a joke. you wish you could smack yourself right now.

“i’m not sure if you’ve ever done that, kissing in general, but again i think it should be with someone special. not me.” if you wanted to reject me you could’ve just been a bit meaner, this feels worse.

you gave a small cough, “yeah. i- i just wanted to get this off my chest. start fresh for the new year.” standing up to make your exit but then steve stepped in front of you, “i care about you a lot, y/n. and look- maybe someday i’ll be that guy for you, just not now. you’re still my best friend though, that won’t change.”

he threw his arms over your shoulders while his wrapped tight along his waist, your cheek pressing into his chest as your eyes stared heavily at robin’s bedroom door. you took a deep sigh before untangling yourself, “we should head back. rob’s probably looking for either of us.”

a/n: did something like this actually happen to me and this is a vent fic…yes😐

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington au #steve harrington fic #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #steve harrington angst #steve harrington x gn!reader

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