#self : i'm going down in flames | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chelseeebe · 5 months ago

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moth to a flame

18+. mdni. smut. king!steve x kinda alt fem!reader. mentions of alcohol and drugs throughout. no ud so steve never gets the opportunity to develop from his jackass high school self. both he and tommy are kinda mean to poor old reader but he makes up for it in the end i promise.

a/n: there's something about lil stevie at the moment.. i think it's because i neglected him for so long that now i'm overcompensating lol. more eddie is coming tho i swear<3 so in my head r is like alt though descriptions don't really go past anything vague.

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steve wasn’t really ever that choosy with his women. he didn’t have to be.

they’d throw themselves at him, from the start of high school right through to college. by some grace of god, meaning his dad and his endless wallet, he’d made it into the university of chicago.

partying his way through his studies with a plethora of women and friends who really only saw him as an open wallet.

that’s where he’d met you.

you weren’t a regular, that’s for sure.

your hair dyed, clothes torn purposely and thick, dark rings of black around your eyes.

he hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off of you all night. watching as you’d ducked outside just after midnight, deciding to follow you, muttering something about a cigarette to tommy without a second thought.

he’d found you around the empty side of the house smoking and stuck his tongue down your throat.

with permission, of course.

he’d seen you in there with the guy with the long hair, steve recognised him as someone he bought weed off occasionally. “he your boyfriend?”

relief washing over him when you’d shook your head no, “i can’t get you a discount if that’s what you’re asking.”

his shoulder had bumped against the hard brick in an attempt to nonchalantly lean against it, “noo.. i was just hoping you were single.”

your smile grows though steve didn’t pick up on the sarcastic twang about it until after, “is that right?”

“you don’t believe me?”

“hmm not really,” stubbing the cigarette out on the side of the house.

“but you are single, right?” deploying that trademark harrington grin, ever unfailing in his entire career.

“i am.”

“so why don’t you wanna make out with me?” reverse psychology, another never faltering technique.

your eyes had narrowed, “i didn’t say that,” he’d known he was in from then on out, putty in his hands just the way he’d hoped.

and thus, birthed this. whatever this is.

steve waits rather impatiently for the party to die down enough to sneak out of here and get you into the back of his bmw. he hadn’t drank, swerving tommy’s attempts at getting him to drink with some vague, mumbly excuse.

your meetings weren’t exactly tasteful, usually entailing some dark corner of the town and the leather of his backseat.

you don’t speak outside of this, maybe a quick glance if he ever saw you outside of the parties but never anything substantial.

but you’d gotten wise to his signals, you were usually found outside with that long-haired boy smoking which meant he had also began to get wise.

steve would drop a cup and glance quickly in your direction or he’d loudly say his goodbyes before slipping out of the door. earning a groan or a roll of the eyes from your friend.

steve’s grateful though, because he knows you’ll only be a few minutes behind. shuffling down the street to his beemer.

tonight, you’d taken longer than usual. sighing as you slid into the passenger seat, steve’s gaze immediately falling to your chest, hungry as ever.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, putting the car into drive before anyone had the opportunity to catch you.

you shake your head, buckling in as the car speeds off, “it’s nothing,” settling yourself in the seat.

“didn’t sound like nothing,” he’s not sure why he’s prying so much, you didn’t owe him any explanation.

“it’s just..” debating whether to divulge, “eddie feels the need to tell me how much he hates you, every single time. it’s boring, you know?”

oh.

steve wasn’t quite expecting that.

sure, he wasn’t the most likeable person ever but hate?

“right,” he nods, unsure of where to go from here, “well.. i’m sure if he knew me, he’d think differently,” though even steve doesn’t quite believe that himself.

you hum in response, staring out at the disappearing road ahead.

the car pulls in to it’s usual saturday night spot, overlooking the city on some disused street. quiet and calm but not for long.

it’s the same foolproof routine every single week, you’ll sit and talk for a minute until one or the other gets fed up and pulls the other into the backseat.

this week it takes a little longer for either of you to crack. you’re still pissed off by whatever eddie had said and he was desperate to try and break through your hardened exterior.

he didn’t want to be hated by anyone, let alone your friends.

perhaps it was fear. scared of eddie revealing the truth about your little rendezvous’ or maybe he really did want to know more about you. he’d been inside of you more than he’d ever asked about your day.

steve had once thought the only people that had tattoos were freaks and criminals, but he doesn’t suppose you’re either of the two.

he loves the way they look on your skin, adorning your arms like they were there before you were born.

“why’d you get that one?” pointing to the flower on your wrist.

you tut, “d’you wanna talk about my tattoos or d’you wanna have sex?” becoming annoyed with his attempts to close the bridge between you.

“why not both?” he didn’t know a thing about you besides your name and how hard you liked his palm against your ass. maybe you really were a freak.

“because you don’t care, not really,” shrugging at him from the passenger seat, “you don’t have to pretend y’know?”

“i’m not pretending,” steve frowns, “i wanna know about your tattoos and i wanna have sex with you, is that crazy?”

you chuckle, turning in your seat to face him, “a little, yeah. i don’t believe that steve harrington cares about my tattoos at all.”

fuck, he wishes this was normal, that you were normal and he could just take you out like he would any other girl.

he doesn’t have a reply, sighing quietly to himself instead.

your hand reaches over, cupping his chin in your palm and gently tilting it upward til he meets your eye again, “so.. sex?”

steve nods, blinking rapidly as you shift over into his lap. if you weren’t going to indulge him then the least he could do was give you what you wanted.

you keep your hand firmly on his chin, locking your lips as your hips move forward, grinding against his jeans, his hands coming to meet your waist.

frantic in the way he grabs at your skin, needing you closer than his car allowed.

what had really shocked him most about you, was the fact that your nipples were pierced. he’d never seen it before, not in real life anyway. but now he couldn’t imagine ever having another boob in his mouth that didn’t taste slightly of metal.

he claws at your shirt, yanking it higher for access to your chest, pulling your bra down enough to reveal your tit, palming at the flesh before locking his lips around the sensitive skin.

your skirt ends up above your waist, his hands roaming the fleshy area, grinding down against his stiff cock with an insatiable hunger. rutting until you’re moaning into the cramped car, his tongue still swirling around your nipple.

“c’mon,” instructing him breathlessly, “need you now stevie,” your hands firm on his shoulders, praying he won’t make you wait any longer.

he nods, letting your breast fall from his lips, gripping your waist to allow himself the space to wiggle his jeans down enough, his boxers following closely. your eyes roll at the sight of his cock springing out, already glistening with pre-cum from your incessant rutting.

you’re already raring to go, sodden panties held to the side as he lines his tip with your soaked entrance, gazing up at you with wondrous lust.

“fuck,” whispering harshly when you lower yourself onto him, his fingers leaving heavy marks on your hips.

you take a moment to adjust, biting down onto your lip as your eyes reopen, meeting his before you begin moving. slow at first, thick thighs enveloping his waist. he wants to gnaw on them, leave purple markings all along the doughy skin.

steve knows he has a big cock, he’s not stupid. it had been a thing to marvel throughout high school, in locker rooms and after hooking up with whoever. everyone had known.

it doesn’t seem to phase you, bouncing up and down as your skin slaps together. he’s always found it hot, that two bodies could make such a sexy sound but with you it’s better.

“that’s it,” you whine, melodically breathing in time with your body bouncing.

your hand creeps away from his shoulder, hanging loosely around his neck, too scared to place any real pressure until he nods enthusiastically, placing a harsh hand to your ass, a clear cut green flag.

you practically growl in response, tightening your grip on his neck, the seats of his car squeak and groan underneath your bodies as the car rocks on the wheels.

keeping one hand on your ass and the other now nestling between your thighs, fingers perched on your soft stomach as his thumb finds your clit.

“oh fuck,” you whine, enthusiastically moving up and down, squeezing his neck just enough to make his eyes roll back.

steve tightens his grip on your ass, losing grip of his throat to slam your palm against the foggy window when his hips thrust upward, moving with yours in perfect harmony.

he wants to swallow you whole, entranced by the sheer pleasure on your face, eyelashes fluttering and your lips parted to allow your melodic mewls to flow freely.

“oh honey,” he moans, slamming into your dripping cunt. an insatiable urge to stay inside of you forever, “fucking.. shit, you feel so fucking good,” eye contact intensely heavy, dripping in pure unadulterated lust. “d-do that again,” referring to your palm around his neck.

“you like that? hmm?” leaving steve to hold you upright, enveloping his jugular with a comfortable squeeze.

no one had ever touched him like that, nor had he ever thought to ask anyone to touch him like that. sex had been a mostly placid affair before he met you, a couple positions if he was feeling crazy but nothing compared to the lewd shit you got up to.

he can’t speak, his balls slapping against your thighs in a maniacal rhythm, relishing the feel of your cunt dripping down his cock onto his boxers.

the car is stuffy, suffocating almost. the fluidity of your two bodies moving against each other only makes it worse. your skin sticks to his, chest clammy and slick. steve loves it, the messiness, the sheer animalistic need for one another.

he grunts into the air, weaving his fingers through your untamed hair, a palm flat to your cheek as he finds your lips in a fumbling haze.

your fingers leave his neck to trail down his chest, clawing at his shirt, desperately rutting your hips as you chase your orgasm. it all becomes sloppy when you begin to pant into his mouth, barely able to keep up the rhythm.

“oh god,” whimpering between his parted lips, “fuck,” your thighs begin to shake, trembling uncontrollably as steve continues to thrust upwards, unrelenting though he’s teetering over the edge himself.

your lips graze against his chin, mewling loudly while you come undone. a trembling mess, relying on his arms to keep your body upright.

he can’t take anymore, your cunt squeezing and clenching around him, driving him completely insane. there's no way in hell that he could ever possibly imagine having sex with anyone else for the rest of his measly life.

“are you cumming?” you ask, holding onto the back of his clammy neck with a panicked look in your eye.

steve nods quickly, using the last of his energy to thrust upwards one final time, uncaring of the consequences. or quite honestly not even considering what cumming inside of you could mean.

his hips stutter, the back of his head hitting the headrest as he grunts and groans, filthy words filling the warm car.

he’s still inside of you when you look down, only allowing him a short moment to gather himself before you frown, “steve,” using your finger to flick his ear.

“shit,” the threat of a child dawns on him, realising how much he shouldn’t have done that, “i’ll pay for.. whatever you need, fuck- i’m sorry,” keeping a firm hand on your waist, pleading for forgiveness.

if you could feel what he felt, he thinks you’d understand.

“you’re so lucky i’m on birth control.. idiot,” climbing off of him to rest on his thighs instead, readjusting your underwear as his release threatens to leak out.

steve clears his throat, a little embarrassed to have lost all self control over your pussy. he's never been overly enthusiastic about the thought of having children but for a split second there, he had truly contemplated how bad it could be.

clearing the awkward silence with a quiet chuckle, raising his chin to meet your gaze, "sorry."

your glossy lips pout, gaze scanning his face before you hum, "you're forgiven."

tommy had dragged him out despite it being a tuesday night, knowing full well he’d be skipping his 9am class tomorrow. he had been really trying to make more of an effort with school lately.

you'd made a passing comment, something you'd definitely have forgotten by now but steve hadn't quite been able to shake it.

your dad's money won't last forever, you know?

it wasn't incorrect by any means, he just hadn't expected the wake up call to come from you.

obviously tommy hadn't got the memo, egging him on to ditch the books to get plastered.

the bar is packed for a weekday evening although steve recognises no one, mostly older folk with a lot of tattoos, eyeing steve’s nervous exterior.

“get me a beer, i need a piss,” tommy hollers into his ear before disappearing off to the bathroom. ever the charming gentleman.

steve goes stiff, wondering if he’d seen a ghost.

you’d materialised behind the bar, looking disinterested in whatever the man in front was jabbering about.

why are you here?

he’s never asked what you do for work, never felt the need to. though he wishes he’d asked now. there’s no chance he can collect himself enough to speak to you.

what if you gave it all away? what if tommy saw? oh fuck.

steve’s never had a panic attack before but he feels mighty close now.

he wipes his palms indiscreetly down his jeans, attempting to slow his breathing before he reaches the bar. why did tommy have to be such a jackass? they could’ve been at home tonight. he wouldn’t be having a fucking heart attack if they were.

the person before him clears off, leaving a space for him to quietly shuffle into. you turn around, eyes locking with his but only letting the corner of your mouth twitch a tiny inch.

your tongue clicks against your teeth, “what can i get ya?” playing along just as he’d hoped.

“two.. uh, two uhm, coors.. please,” dropping his gaze as he pleads with god to let the world swallow him up.

clearing your throat before getting the bottles from the fridge, sliding them across the bar with a sigh, “didn’t think this would be your scene to be honest,” stifling your laugh as the other patrons eye his sweater and too-tight jeans.

steve gets it.

the bar was crawling with people with piercings, ripped clothes and an overall disdain for the status quo.

tommy fit in, he was loud and sweary just as they were but steve, he stuck out like a sore thumb.

“it’s not.. really, tommy said it was cool.. i dunno,” he hated the fumbling mess you made him, he couldn’t ever understand it.

you stare back at the disaster you’d created, running your tongue along your top teeth before tapping the bar, “seven bucks, please,” palm outstretched beside him.

he shoves a ten into your hand, “keep the change,” grabbing the bottles before elbowing his way back to tommy.

“what the hell took you so long?”

“there was a line, dumbass,” rolling his eyes, passing off one of the bottles to his friend.

“don’t lie,” tommy’s elbow jabs steve harshly in the ribs, “i saw you talking to that girl,” steve freezes, terrified of what tommy might say next. “she’s hot,” tommy leers, “y’know in like a freak sorta way,” laughing obnoxiously loud for such a small bar. “you at least get her number?”

he just glares back, unsure of whether tommy knows more than he’s letting on or just being his usual ignorant self.

“i could fuck the freak outta’ her, trust me,” the drunk continues, only serving to anger steve further. he didn’t want anyone to speak about you like that, much less tommy fucking hagan.

“don’t say shit like that,” steve scolds, like he’s some petulant child who needs punishment.

“what? like you care,” blowing raspberries with his mouth, “c’mon, loads of weird broads in here i can help instead,” walking off into the crowd with a mission.

he glances over at you smiling with some customer, his stomach churning with unfathomable jealousy. he had no right to feel that way, in fact, he probably deserved it.

tommy’s in one of his unbearable moods again, bouncing around the party, antagonising any and every one who even attempts to get him to stop.

steve doesn’t really care, nervously eyeing the door, confused by your absence. you hadn’t told him you were coming, but then you also hadn’t told him that you weren’t coming.

had he done something wrong? the last time you’d spoken was when he and tommy had crashed your shift, only muttering a few nervous words about beer. he’s pathetic. you’d made him pathetic.

an arm latches around his shoulder harshly, almost knocking the drink from his hand, “stop watching the door, she’s not coming,” tommy slurs, laughing cruelly in his face.

“what?” steve’s body tenses, trying to shake off the drunkard.

“your little girlfriend,” clarifying exactly what steve had thought he was saying. tommy clocks steve’s gawping mouth, his heightened breaths, “what?” chuckling loudly, “you think i don’t know? everyone fucking knows dude, you can cut the shit.”

he wriggles free from his grasp, “the fuck are you talking about?” it’s not as if playing dumb would help him now but he’d at least give it a shot.

“fuck off man,” tommy shoves him backwards, “that’s why you’re acting like a little pussy at the moment,” spitting in his face, belligerent and arrogant, “steve fucks the weird girl and now he pretends to give a fuck about feelings and shit,” drawing the attention of the entire party.

if it really had been that obvious, they’d all already know about it anyway.

“you’re an asshole, you know that right?” steve fumes, shoving tommy back into the counter before grabbing the container of vodka behind, walking off into the party with his head held high.

people eye him as he goes, sure they all knew. they’d all heard what tommy was screaming about, hell, they’d probably seen the two of you sneaking about for months.

why did he care so? why didn’t he care more?

steve’s hopeless, completely and utterly tragic.

deserting the party after an hour of his ‘friends’ dancing around him and girls completely dodging his advances.

he didn’t want them, not really. he just needed to fill a you shaped hole.

the only place his intoxicated brain can conjure up to go is your house. his feet carrying him out of the door and across the large campus without much thought to it.

it’s only when he reaches the small row of houses that he realises where he is. looking up at the quaint house he’d dropped you off at tens of times.

he can’t go in, can’t go back to the party either.

stuck between a rock and a hard place because no matter what, he’d come off pretty badly.

“what’re you doing?” a girl he’s never seen before speaks from the shadows, a certain look of disgust on her features.

steve stops his aimless pacing, realising just how weird he looked. how could he ever begin to explain himself?

the girl i have sex with sometimes lives here and i’m here because my best friend found out about it and i don’t really know how to feel about that.

though he opts for something a little easier to digest, “i’m just.. walking.”

the girl narrows her eyes, “i know who you are, steve harrington,” full disgust in her voice, “i don’t know if she’s home,” putting her key into the door.

of course. the roommate you’d mentioned. robin or something like that. he’s not sure why he hadn’t thought of it.

“can you.. can you check?” relieved to not have been the one knocking on the door.

“well duh,” she scowls, opening the door and disappearing into the hall.

thankfully, she doesn’t reemerge. unsure of how much he could take tonight without bursting into tears.

you do though, peeking out of the door with a small frown, opening the door wider when you see his frame lingering.

“steve?” confusion echoing, “what the hell are you doing here?”

“hey,” steve waves, watching his fingers wiggle and immediately regretting it. the realisation creeping in that he was lurking around your house like a complete weirdo.

“you’re drunk,” you state plainly, opening the door wider to reveal your heart-adorned pyjama shorts and fuzzy slippers.

his eyes fall immediately, still desperate to suffocate himself between your thighs.

“yup,” hiccuping through the dark.

you sigh, you do that a lot when you’re talking to him, “jesus christ.. come in,” ushering him inside.

he stumbles through the door, hazy eyes looking at your house, the decorations that littered the place.

it’s so.. you.

different and spunky, a guitar leant against the couch, banners and posters and pictures of you and your friends beaming plaster the walls. he can’t help but think about how much his mother would detest it all. wouldn’t fit her cookie-cutter world view, neither would you, really.

is that why he liked you?

some repressed act of defiance against his mother?

no, no he really doesn’t think so.

“okay,” your hand finds his back, “upstairs now,” flashing a look to robin that he can’t distinguish between confusion and maybe slight fear.

steve lets you guide him, appreciating the gentle hand, only wishing it hadn’t taken half a quart of vodka to get him here into your room.

he flops onto the bed with a sigh, still too intoxicated to feel any real shame yet though he’s sure it’ll inevitably sneak in at some point.

“what’re you doing?” pity addling your voice as you come to sit on the bed, desperate to not let his eyes trail down to your legs.

“i wanted to see you,” murmuring his words, “you didn’t come tonight.. i missed you,” letting the spirit speak for him.

you stare at him for a second, figuring out how to approach his fragile state, “didn’t think you’d want me there after the bar.”

“why wouldn’t i?”

you scoff, “you couldn’t even look me in the eye,” reinvigorating that twinge of guilt in his chest, “you were terrified of tommy finding out you even knew me,” you must really pity him. letting him into your house after he’d acted like you simply didn’t exist just a few weeks ago.

“tommy knows anyway.. none of it even mattered,” steve sighs, rubbing his temple as the headache kicks in.

“i know, steve,” offering little remorse. your eyes roll back, sighing softly, “he came by the bar a few days ago, he was drunk, trying to.. it doesn’t matter. i know he knows, i don’t really care,” shrugging as if you couldn’t understand why he did.

maybe rather selfishly steve had assumed that you were also somewhat ashamed of this arrangement. it hadn’t occurred to him that only he felt so pathetically guilty and oddly protective over your relationship.

he wanted you to himself and at the same time wanted absolutely no one to know about it.

“but i care,” it sounding even worse out loud than it did in his head.

yet he means it. he just can’t really understand why.

your eyes lower, shifting uncomfortably on your bed as your smile grows sadder, “you don’t want anyone to know that you fuck the freak, right?” a glum, melancholic tone to your words that makes his heart ache.

“yes- no, i don’t really know,” shoulders slumping, giving up all hope of ever understanding the things he was feeling.

your lips purse, the mattress dipping as you stand, unwilling to give any more energy to the conversation. “why don’t you sleep it off here?” still refusing to re-meet his eye, “i’ll take the couch, alright? you just.. get some sleep,” slinking off to the door before he can protest.

“wai-,” but you’re gone.

left on his own in your room.

he can’t help but think that you should be here too, the first time he’d gathered enough courage to come to your house and he’d pissed you off that badly, you had to sleep on the couch.

all he wants is for this to be normal. to take you out like he did the other girls, show you off to his friends and be proud of it too.

steve wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t want that, but he wanted to at least tell you.

screw tommy hagan and anyone else that had anything to say about it.

he stumbles out of your bedroom, trying to remember which way to go to reach the steep stairs. god he hopes robin isn't down there with you. they'd interacted for no more than five minutes and yet he could already sense her general distaste for him.

the floorboards creak under his weight, dragging his uncoordinated feet down until he hits the floor with a thud, missing the last few steps completely.

your head pokes out of the closed door, with what he hopes is worry on your face. "what the fuck? are you okay?" rushing over to his crumpled body. this would all be highly entertaining if he weren't in the midst of an identity crisis.

"i'm good, i'm okay," clinging onto your arm. rather than standing to get to your level, he decides that dragging you down onto the floor with him is the best way to confess. ignoring your shrieks of complaint as you land harshly on his lap.

"what are you doing?" unable to hold back the maniacal cackle any longer.

"i'm trying to tell you something," steve mumbles, pressing his forehead against yours in hopes the words would somehow telepathically absorb through your skin.

they don't, obviously. because that's not how this works.

"i think that i," he hiccups,, sliding his hand down your arm to grasp your hand, "i think i really, really like you," stammering through his half-assed confession. on further thought, he probably should've waited until morning before deciding to unleash this unto you. "and i think that i've been an asshole to you," swallowing the gargantuan lump in his throat, "and i want to- only if you want to," earnestly gazing into your eyes, his thumb tracing your soft knuckle.

"want to what, steve?"

"i want to be with you, like.. dating or- or your boyfriend," hoping that now you’d understand his stammering, incoherent words.

your face displays something he can’t place, twisting the knife in his chest completely to only ease up when your lips twitch, “i think you’re drunk,” brushing off his confession.

steve wants to scream, he’d laid himself bare for you and while he probably didn’t deserve to call you his girlfriend, he also didn’t deserve to never get the chance to ask.

“i am,” admitting to his sins, “but i mean it,” nodding his head against yours, putting your hand to his chest, “i want it, i want you.”

your lips purse, he hates it when you do that. still unable to get through that mysterious shell you’re clinging onto, leaving him to try and guess what you’re thinking. most girls were fairly obvious in the way they treated steve. either fawning over him or they’d argue until he’d hate it and ghost them.

“even if everyone knows?” slowly opening up to the idea of you two. or at least he hopes so.

“especially if everyone knows.”

it’s a stark contrast from the embarrassingly nervous wreck he was at the bar, too terrified to even look you in the eye. he’d decided that it just wasn’t him. you deserved better and steve couldn’t stand to watch anyone other than himself give you that.

“..okay,” you blink, lashes brushing against his skin as they flutter, “but i’m gonna ask you again in the morning,” narrowing your eyes, ever the voice of caution.

steve just grins, morning couldn’t come soon enough if that was all it’d take to get you to believe him.

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington smut #steve harrington angst #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you

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tetzoro · 2 months ago

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☽◯☾ - SMOKIN' ACES

꒰ synopsis ꒱ : The ASL brothers know how to throw a good party and tonight was no different.

꒰ content ꒱ : MDNI. portgas d. ace x f!reader ; dubcon as they are high, descriptive weed use, shotgunning, surprise voyeur alert (someone might be listening...), unprotected sex, dry humping, use of pet names (baby, good girl), impact play if you squint — WC : 3.4k

⭑ 𓂃 ꒰ Full Moon ! ꒱ — Kinktober Masterlist

The basement was a cozy little spot that only the members of the house and certain special guests could be privy to. During the notorious parties, it was a safe haven, a place of refuge- Somewhere to get some air, get away from the noise, and regroup with the people who meant most to you.

It was full of little touches from over the years. A series of disjointed chairs and faded couches all in a circle with a busted coffee table in the center that either had a bong or hookah on it, ready for community use.

Always playing chill music, full of wondrous paintings and vibrant murals that various friends have done — it was the clubhouse of all clubhouses and all run by the ASL boys themselves; Ace, Sabo, and Luffy.

The first member, the self-proclaimed founding member, is currently sitting next to you with a triumphant smile on his face, grinding up some weed. After the exhausting day at the beach, everyone has decided to go out to the bar instead of staying in for the night.

A part of you had wanted to go with them and maybe do a couple of shots and make out with someone for a little while. A night where your head was as fizzy as a champagne bottle and maybe you could get your mind off of a certain someone.

But then Ace had given you the look.

That look with those big brown puppy eyes of his that never failed to have you cater to his every whim — annoyingly so.

So you find yourself here, in the still smoke-filled air basement that was full of character from a group of the rowdy young adults you’ve come to know so well next to the man you’ve been pining over since the day you met him.

“I can't believe you dressed up like the dude from Magic Mike.” You flick his cowboy hat up, knocking it back and giving it a slightly disheveled look.

“Not just any dude, I'm dressed as Dallas.” Ace shakes his head, focused on rolling another joint in his favorite strawberry-printed rolling paper for the two of you to share. The one you had earlier burned out with the group and Ace had promised you another if you agreed to stay behind with him

“You just wanted an excuse to be shirtless.” Not that you were really complaining.

“First of all, I'm not shirtless.” Ace patted the unbuttoned vest that loosely hung over his taut frame. “Second of all, I did it for the hat that you so rudely hurt.”

“My apologies then.” The sarcasm drips from your tone and Ace casts you a sidelong glance, sticking his tongue out at you before using it to lick the joint.

“At least I was creative.” He says, his dark eyes trailing along your body. Even though he’s clearly appraising the outfit and not you, a chill runs down your spine. “Weren’t you a cat last year too?”

“Shut up, you know that Luffy ruined the angel wings I was going to wear.” Ace hands you the joint in surrender, motioning for you to go first as he fishes the lighter out from between the couch cushions.

You put it in your mouth, lips wrapping around the filter as the sparks fly. It illuminates the small space in front of you and casts a soft glow over Ace's freckled face.

Suddenly, he felt a little too close. You take in the way he carefully lights it for you, his tongue peeking out as he focuses on the task at hand. As soon as the flame catches the paper, his eyes flicker up to yours.

You inhale, begrudgingly taking in some of the smoke of the wrap before it cherries at the end, an influx of weed hitting your lungs harsher than you intended.

“Easy now.” Ace tries to stifle his laugh as you cough a little, your head still reeling from the close proximity. He takes the joint from your fingers, gently brushing his against yours before taking a hit himself.

Ever the show-off, the smoke barely leaves his lips before he begins to inhale it through his nose. He smirks at you as he does it, effortlessly inhaling the thick flume of smoke.

“You’re so lame for gatekeeping that trick by the way.” You huff at the man across from you, taking the joint back from him to continue your sesh.

“I gotta have something to impress you, right?” Ace leans back on the couch a little more, eyes growing hazy and red as he watches you. His tattooed arm dangles off the back of the couch while you try not to take what he says to heart. But he looks back at you, head tilting a little so he peeks at you from under his hat. “But I suppose I can teach you something else.”

“Yeah? And what’s that?” Taking another hit, you let the smoke rush through your lungs and let it saturate every bit while it screams in protest the longer you hold onto it. Ace shifts ahead, leaning in so he’s closer to you and spreading his legs so his thigh brushes against yours.

“You really wanna know?” His warm breath caresses your ear as he speaks, his nose barely nudging the lobe. The sudden seductive shift in his voice throws you off your axis and plummets you into his gravitational pull.

“Yes.” The approval slips out of your mouth with the rest of the smoke.

Ace moves his face so it's in front of yours, his eyes scanning your features as he takes a hit. You’re not even sure when he grabbed the joint but you don’t question it. not when his fingers cup your jaw so sweetly.

“What’re you—“ The question dies out as he shakes his head. Everything feels tingly but the way he’s cusping your face makes it ten times worse, setting your skin on fire as your face heats up.

Carefully, he tilts your head toward him before he leans in. Your breath hitches as his lips brush against yours, his fingers pulling on your jaw so your mouth opens a little more.

With a direct softness you’ve never gotten from him, he blows the smoke out from his mouth and into yours. The weed coats your taste buds before his tongue slips into your mouth to steal it all away. His eagerness rivals the hit in a silent contest of who can take your breath away more.

Ace's hand doesn’t move from your face and he uses it to his advantage to kiss you further. If you thought your mind was fuzzy before, it was absolute static now as your twirls swirl together.

He grins against your lips, humming approvingly as you begin to kiss him back. But it was over far too soon and it takes everything in you not to chase his fleeting lips.

“So?” He smirks and pulls away from you, taking another hit as you try to catch your breath.

“What the hell was that?” Your thigh was still pressing against his but you couldn’t find it in you to move. Part of you longed to push further, to lean into him and melt into his searing touch. But your mind was still trying to play catch up from what just happened.

“Shotgunning.” He blows the smoke out straight into the air and your heart pangs with a strange jealousy. “Did you like it?”

“Yes.” You bite your lip. Maybe a little too much. You pause, tasting the words on your tongue before you utter them. “I wanna try it again.”

Ace sucks in his breath, the smoke plummeting to his lungs as he takes in your wish. Coughing slightly, he sits up straighter on the couch and tries to gather himself.

“Yeah?” The gravely rasp in his voice swirls with the underlying desire and draws you in further.

There’s no going back now.

“Yeah,” You nod slowly. Neither of you bat an eye as you slide into his lap, accidentally rolling your hips against his lap as you do. Ace lets out a choked groan of your name, shifting underneath you. “Ready?”

Galaxies bloom in his eyes as they light up, eagerly tilting his head up in anticipation. The joint sits on your lips before you take the hit, watching him under you as he looks up at you from beneath his dark lashes. Desire pools in your abdomen and before you can think about what you want, your lips meet once again.

It’s a blur between tongues as the smoke fizzles out. You’re not even sure if you did it right, but then again, it wasn’t really your main objective.

The joint disappears from your fingers and you can feel Ace shift to ash it out on the side table. Unburdened, his arms wrap around you and his hands splay across your back, pulling you closer to him and deepening the kiss.

Your lungs beg for reprieve but the taste of Ace’s sweet tongue is too addicting to let up. But he shows mercy and pulls away, suffering from the same affliction.

Everything felt fuzzy around the edges, your brain fully saturated in something syrupy sweet that had your hips involuntarily moving again as soon as your foreheads pressed together.

The faint aroma of sea salt still wove itself in the tangled curls of Ace’s hair, filling your senses despite all the smoke that currently clung to the thick air.

“Ace.” You gasp softly, the faint outline of his hardening cock coming to life right between your thighs.

“Yeah? You feel that?” To further his point, he pushes his hips up against your overheating core. “Feel what you do to me?”

“Yes.” With every slow grind of your hips, you can feel him growing harder beneath you. The friction was rolling over your body like a wave hitting the shore, but it was fleeting. “I want more.”

“Can you handle more?” The smirk that dangles off his face has you wanting to roll your eyes but you relent. The craving for him was too much, threatening to boil over and fully consume you.

“I can.” You nod, lips hovering over his. “I want to try.”

Ace closes the distance, unable to curb his own carnal urges that run rampant in his body. The way your lips mesh together, tasting like weed and strawberry-flavored chapstick becomes something he knows he’ll get addicted to.

Your fingers dance along his chest, teasing under the vest before landing on the buckle of his belt. All the while he reaches up your skirt, tugging on your panties and dragging them down your legs.

The rest is a blur of motion, but the messy way his lips move with yours is vivid. It’s almost jarring how much you can taste him, how much his grunts of approval seep into your skin and run through your veins

You pull back at an absolute loss for breath, panting against his mouth as his tongue pokes out to trace your parted lips. The bottom half of your clothes are gone and his are haphazardly halfway down his thigh.

Ace's hand grips the base of his cock as you hover over it, pumping it and squeezing his tip as it leaks with pearly drops of precum.

“You're gonna be a good girl and take it all for me?” His knuckles brush along your soaked slit, running along it back and forth, absolutely mesmerized as he waits for your answer.

“Yes, I'll be good.” The words are nothing more than a breath of air, your lungs squeezing in protest.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me.” His tip prods your entrance, both of you throbbing as the last thread of self-control burns like a stick of dynamite. The slow, sparkling crawl of anticipation before everything explodes, lighting each other aflame in a whirlwind of desire. “You turn into such a little slut when you’re high, don’t you?”

“Ace.” You whine, watching the slow spread of his signature boyish grin take up his face. Warm palms rest on your hips, fingers gripping into your skin as he soaks up the absolute need in your voice.

“What?” He chuckles lowly, his voice still raspy from the smoke. “All I'm saying is that — ohh shit…“

The rest of his sentence melts into a groan as you slowly lower yourself onto his cock.

“That’s it.” He groaned, his palms sliding to rest on your thighs to help guide you. It takes everything in him not to push you all the way down, letting you take your time as you adjust during your descent.

Everything stands still as he finally bottoms out, filling you up and stretching you out in ways no one has ever done before. The pressure is insurmountable yet it brings you a wave of pleasure that has your body singing for more.

“Holy fuck, you feel like heaven.” Ace practically moans at the way your silky walls clamp around him. His fingers move once again to grip your hips in a bruising hold, stilling himself from spilling into you immediately.

“Of course, you talk a lot during sex.” You let out a scoffed chuckle, clutching onto his shoulders as you spread your legs a little more and letting him sink in even deeper.

“Aw, complaining already?” He gives you a lazy grin, slowly grinding his hips up against you. The steady throb of his cock melts your brain more than the weed did, the residual high becoming overshadowed by the man under you. “Or let me guess, you just can’t take a compliment?”

“Shut up.” You huff, rocking your hips before raising yourself back up. His cock partially slides out of you and glistens with your essence, coating it completely. Ace's eyes zero in on it, drinking in the sight before you ease back down.

“Fuck.” Ace's head hangs off the back of the couch as he gazes at you through half-lidded eyes. The hat he was wearing falls behind him, completely forgotten. His palms glide along your sides, sliding them up and down before cupping your ass and trying to speed up your movements. “Please, you gotta move faster.”

“Do I?” The gravity of the situation sets in, albeit a little delayed — blame it on the weed. But he was completely at your mercy. The pleading look in his eyes speaks volumes despite the cocky words he so rapidly fires off. You lean down, lips brushing against his ear. “Let me guess, can’t handle it?”

Ace's attention snaps back to you, almost fully alert now. The fog from earlier clears from his head as the words he uttered earlier echo from your pretty little mouth. A new challenge fires off inside of him and he was never one to back down from a fight, no matter the position. With a wicked grin, he thrusts his hips heavenward.

“Oh, I can handle it alright.” He murmurs, rubbing the plushness of your ass before giving it a subtle smack. Your body jolts and your chests crash together, almost every part of you is touching him.

The ever-steady rhythm of your heart spins on its axis, thrown off by the rapid beating that sets in syncopation and you can’t find it in you to care. Not when everything you’ve ever wanted is finally clicking into place.

Your bodies move in a euphoric sync, the ebb and flow of the melody you two orchestrate fills the room in a symphony of bliss. You were drowning into Ace’s very essence and in return, he did the same.

“Shit, baby.” Ace groans at the almost lazy pace. Each delicious drag of his cock had your eyes rolling back to your head. Anytime he twitched inside of you was like another jolt of pleasure — knowing that he was getting just as much enjoyment out of this as you was driving you faster to your end. “I've wanted this for so long.”

“What?” You’re completely breathless now. The confession takes away the last shred of oxygen and rips it out of your lungs. The languid roll of your hips doesn't stop though; your mind, heart, and body all chasing what you want in different ways. “Really?”

“God, yeah.” Ace's fingers slid under your shirt as he grabbed your bra-covered chest. “We need to take this off.”

Impressively, his pace doesn’t falter as he rocks up into you while his hand glides to your back and unhooks your bra. It only takes a few seconds for your chest to become completely bare and his head to find its home in the valley of your breasts.

His tongue trails everywhere. Your body burns under it, relief only pooling in the spot between your thighs and wherever he decides to lick away the flames. It cools you off, the words he said earlier filtering back into your mind as the smoke clears.

“I've wanted this too.” You gasp, bouncing a little quicker to prove how much you’ve needed this — him. Ace groans, teeth grazing the swell of your breast before sucking your nipple into his mouth to muffle the noise. “You feel so good, Ace.”

The candy-sweet praise has his head popping back up from where his tongue was swirling around your pert bud and looks at you, eyes trailing over your blissed-out face and the hearts that swirled in your eyes.

“Come here.” Ace roughly grabs you by your ass, leaning further back into the couch as you tumble on him. He couldn’t hold back anymore, fucking up into you without abandon.

“A-Ace!” You gasp, trying to squirm away a little but the hold he had you in was too tight.

“Take it for me, baby. You said you would.” He moans. Both of your impending highs are heightened by the weed you inhaled only minutes ago. Pleasure rips through your body, sending it into tremors as your thighs shake. “Let go f’me.”

Your high washes over you immediately, body locking up as Ace continues to pound into you and chase his own release.

And it’s beautiful when he reaches it.

He comes with a choked moan of your name, his body tensing up and his fingers digging into your skin. His cock pulses before he completely empties himself into your greedy cunt with sporadic, shallow thrusts.

Both of you slump against each other, melting into the couch as your mind floats down from the clouds and into his warm embrace.

You pull back a little to admire his freckled face and can’t help but unleash the giggle that bubbles from your chest. It was contagious, as joy often is when you’re around him, and he can’t help but mirror you.

The two of you giggling in each other's arms under the shoddy string lights in the basement that has grown to mean so much to you — even more so now.

The distinct squeak of the floorboard by the basement door sounds off, snapping you both back into reality.

“I thought we were the only ones here.” You sit up, hastily reaching for your clothes and throwing them on. Ace lifts his hips and slides his back on before kissing you on the top of your head and getting up. “Ace–“

“Stay here.” He turns around the corner and out of sight as he starts to go up the stairs. After a few steps in, the door opens and you straighten up. “Oh, it’s you. You little fucking perv.”

The sound of Ace’s boisterous laughter sounds off as two pairs of legs start coming back down. Every nerve is set on fire, anxiety ripping into your chest at the thought of seeing the person who had been listening in on you and Ace fucking.

But the familiar sight of blonde hair snuffs all the worries away, the dastardly pair smiling at you with devious intent.

“I had to pick up so I couldn’t make it to the bar tonight,” Sabo said with a grin, holding up the bag of weed he must’ve scored. “Must be my lucky day.”

“Must be.” Ace scoffs, making his way back to you. He plops back down into his spot next to you, immediately mouthing at your neck before his voice curls around your ear. You don ’t break eye contact with Sabo as he stalks closer, placing the bag on the table before taking off his gloves. “What do you say, baby? Wanna let him smoke us up and show him exactly what happened down here?”

tags: @bontensh0e @autumnstuffs

#☆ 𓂃 Kinktober !#dividers by cafekitsune #◟˚. ☁️ ⋆ daydreams.#cw dubcon #cw weed #ace x reader #portgas ace x reader #ace smut #portgas ace smut #one piece x reader #op x reader #one piece smut #op smut

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dont-look-its-embarrassing · 3 months ago

Text

To Be Seen

Azriel x Reader

This is my first ever one-shot or fanfiction type writing on here, so be patient with me bc it will be FAR from perfect or good.

This is purely self-indulgent bc again, I'm new at this and just wanted to write an insert or y/n type little blurb.

Summary; Being the best friend of Feyre when she was human, you regretfully got roped in and turned with her sisters as a tool for manipulation by Hybern. As the sister's find it hard to settle in claiming the attention of the two other bats, you attempt to make Feyre's and the inner court's life easier by flying under the radar and figuring it out on your own. However, are you really as unnoticed as you hope or is a certain shadowsinger entrapped by your caring and soft nature as his heart battles his mind for the third sister or you.

Warnings: None really, mentions of PTSD and anxiety, loneliness and self-help, slow-burn, slight angst with a fluffy ending, reader just wants to be seen but feels like she can't ask

Word count: 2,389

Pt2

The sound of a door opening broke you out of your thoughts as you sat in the drawing room in the house of wind. The gentle crackle of the fire Infront of you allowed your body to sit comfortably within the rather cold season and the book you were just reading sat loose in your lap. You haven't gotten used to your enhanced hearing yet as your now longer and thicker hair gently fell from where you had tucked it behind your ear.

"Y/n?" Your best friend's voice echoed into the room as her footsteps followed. A soft smile spread across your features as she came in, confirmed you where there, and plopped down ungraciously on the couch next to you. "Thank the mother you are here."

Her features where stressed, the worry written all over her face as she took your form in.

"What's going on?" You ask, hopeful to help.

Feyre let out a sigh as she let her eyes wonder to the fire Infront of the both of you.

"Nothing. Everything. I don't know, it seems that everything I do to try and help Nesta and Elaine seems to only make things worse." She rung her hands, a trait she picked up back in the human lands when she was nervous or upset. "It just never seems enough to make them comfortable or to try and apologize for everything that happened."

Your best friend's eyes slightly widened as she took her gaze from the flames.

"How are you? Are you doing okay?" The genuine care and concern oozing off of the female Infront of you reminded you of why you cared so much about your friend in the first place. When she was taken, you had searched high and low for her in hopes to get her back only to have her return happy and healthy with a loving man, or male, doting on her every need. You were ecstatic, and expressed yourself as so, even if it was with fae beings. When you and her sisters were taken, that happiness was put on hold to make sure that you are all where comfortable. Feyre's self-sacrificing nature did always drive you mad, even now when she was so close to being truly happy.

"I'm okay Feyre." She shot you a look, trying to dig deeper and call the bluff you made. "Seriously, I'm here with you and in an amazing place that I could only dream of with great people."

"A lot happened Y/n. A lot happened to Elaine and Nesta, but a lot happened to you." She was right, and it was weird for you to be so put together when the worlds of the other two were falling to pieces. With your more emotional and strong relationship with Feyre, you had been held captive with her sisters yes, but you also took the brunt of interrogation that the wicked king deemed necessary to gain any information of her court. You had put yourself in that position, you knew how awful she would feel about her familial blood being brutalized in such a way, so you took the heat. But, in the end, her sisters still took the change harder and refused to accept their new life, making everyone on edge and overexerting themselves to help.

With one look at your best friend's-tired eyes, you knew that she couldn't handle another burden. More like she shouldn't have to handle another burden.

The word tasted sour on your tongue.

Burden.

Shaking your head a small gentle smile graced your face, and you forced your features to emulate that same energy.

"I'm okay Feyre, really. Aside from some cool new power thing that I haven't figured out, I'm fine. " The breath she released could only register as relief in your mind as she met your smile.

"Okay, and we will definitely start working on that when we are all settled here." Her reassurance did little to reassure that it would be investigated. Again, with the two sisters gaining war altering abilities, your random energy (that had yet to manifest) would be put on the back burner until everyone else was settled. Again, the slight dismissal ached, but you understood the need for others to take precedence.

Giving a little nod, you two sit in silence for a bit just listening to the crackling of the fire and enjoying each other's presence. That is, until a wince rippled across your friends face and she slowly rose.

"I'm sorry, I have to go. I think Elaine is out and not talking to Lucien and it's a mess-"

"It's fine Feyre, go make sure they are okay." You assure with the same smile. Giving one last 'thank you, I love you' she was gone like the wind that howled outside the windows. The silence that followed her exit had the ringing in your ears become a bit to unbearable. Removing yourself from the couch, you travel down to your room and grab a quick change of footwear.

Today would be a good day to explore the town, or at least good enough to get your mind out of the dark slump of trying to acclimate to its' new body and abilities.

Making your way towards the door, a small flicker of shadow catches your eye.

"Hello?" You call. You know that Rhys is most likely with Feyre and Azriel is also probably there because of Elaine, so you dismiss it quickly after a moment, chalking it up to just a trick of the light.

Opening the door, the slight chill on the wind has a shiver run through you, but the sun quickly chased it away. Breathing a sigh, you look at the vastness of the stairs below you.

No time like the present.

Taking one step at a time and avid breaks when needed, you would rather not admit to yourself just how much time that trek took. However, upon reaching the bottom, the satisfaction that filled you outweighed the journey. Walking down the streets of Velaris, the bustling normality of the people filled you with ease. As your heels clicked against the stones below, your gaze just missed the little shadow that trailed behind your body.

Taking in the colors and vibrant people, the ease and happiness that covered their faces had the ache in your gut grow more and more. Your mind wandered to if you would ever be that happy and mundane. With everything that had happened so far, the familiar life in the human forest (although had its struggles) seemed like an ideal. It was the lack of routine, lack of knowledge, the newly sprouted life, the misplacement, all of it plus more. You didn't notice your breathing gain more weight and take longer to fill your lungs than it did at the house. You also didn't notice the little skitter of the shadow that had followed you as it raced away towards some unseen location. The heat in your body seemed to increase as the sight of a simple family loving and walking together entered your mind.

Would anyone love you like this?

You couldn't think.

Ducking into a nearby ally, the overhead sheets and covering allowed it to be shaded and darker than the streets 20 feet away. Even then, the darkness of the ally seemed to illuminate with your presence there. However, it wasn't the light, it was the lack of grasp of oxygen you could inhale and the strenuous shaking your body couldn't stop. The tears that fell without your knowledge burned their tracks into your skin and sizzled as they hit the ground. Your body gave way to the spasms that took ahold of you as your mind raced. Burring your head into your knees, you attempted to shut the world out and let your mind slow but to no avail. You wished the darkness of the alley would swallow you whole, allow the sun and light to escape you being seen just this once.

Almost as if your prayers where in fact answered, the light surrounding you died as the darkness of the ally surrounded you. Picking your head up to view what cloud or magical being answered your plea, your eyes were met with those of hazel crouching Infront of you.

"Azriel?" You hadn't met this male for more than a couple days ago. He was nice, offering to go with you places or chat every so often. You had a couple nightly talks with him where you shared some stories between the two of you. Nothing out of the ordinary though, you felt safe around him when he was near. Confusion washed your features and for a moment your brain stopped running in circles and focused on why the male might be in front of you in this very unfortunate situation.

"You're okay." His large hands had gently pried your head from between your own. He Slowly, as if not to spook you further, reached for your hands and took them in his own. As twisted as it sounded, the morbid scarring that littered his skin grounded you further and pulled you back to this moment and out of that forsaken cell and cold water. "Focus on me, breathe."

The ease of your breath returned as the seeming dark cloud that surrounded you peeled back revealing that same dampened alleyway. However, the slight char on the walls and burns on the ground was distinct enough to question. Looking around, more of those marks surrounded you but faded as it got further from you. Opening your mouth to ask, a quick look from the male had you hesitant as he shook his head.

"One thing at a time sunshine." You nod, ignoring the small butterfly that hatched in your stomach at the nickname, but the pain in your head from the little outburst brought you back to reality. Bringing your hand up to caress the muscle between your eyes, Azriel scanned you from head to toe checking for any other possible injuries. "Let's get you back to the house, okay? Have Madja take a look at you and maybe give you something to help process."

Although the beginning of his statement was directed at you, for an answer, the second part was mumbled more to himself.

"Okay." The short response was all you could get past your lips as he sent you a small smile and opened his arms.

Looking at him questionably, he held back a chuckle.

"Have you never flown?" Shaking your head, no, you had never flown before. Winnowed? Yes, but never in the arms of one of the three males residing in the same house at you. The aspect of Azriel being your first had a little flush cover your cheeks. He approached you carefully, scanning your eyes for any aversion to being touched or space invaded. If you didn't just have a literally breakdown in the middle of Velaris, you could've sworn there was a deeper emotion residing in his eyes.

Guilt?

Worry?

Longing?

You couldn't place it and decided not to keep the process waiting. Taking a step towards him, he kept his arms spread out to accompany your space against his.

"Wrap your arms around me." His voice was lowered with your closer proximity. Slowly you brought your arms to wrap around the back of his neck. He waited until you settled there before moving to hoist you up into his arms and walk slightly out of the alley to give his wings more room to take flight.

While doing so, you couldn't help but settle into his warmth as it felt nice against our colder frame. With all the adrenaline wearing off, you were left shivering.

"Make sure to hold on." He noted, which was all the notice you got before suddenly you two were no longer on the ground. Tightening your grip instinctually, you shut your eyes as you could practically feel the male smile at your nature.

"How did you get down there anyway?" With the loud wind it was hard to hear, but again due to the lack of space between the two of you his voice rang clear.

"I walked."

"Down those?" Without realizing the easygoing atmosphere he created, you had peered open your eyes to look down at the stairs you both were currently soaring over. Only a brief look however as you still had some human tendencies and did have a slight aversion to heights.

"Yeah." You nodded and went to shut your eyes once more to finish out the flight, but as you did you caught sight of a new look on the spymaster's face.

Pride.

Landing as softly as possible, Madja was already there waiting for the two of you to arrive. Without thinking, you blamed it on the spymaster's shadows (but grateful they were there). Feyre also stood to the side of her, worry wringing her hands again and you let out a sigh of defeat.

Stumbling out of Azriel's arms, he steadied you, giving a once over before his high lady had shot him an inquiring look. She looked at you shortly after.

"You are never to lie to me again Y/n, you hear?" Her chastising voice was filled with love and worry all the same.

But before you could open your mouth to respond with a thousand reasons why you might, a certain male beat you too it.

"Don't go too hard on her, admittedly we have all been a bit busy to check in." You both glanced back at the male in question as his shadows wrapped around him in song. He has said it was so to promise his attention to fix the problem, which warmed your core.

"She will be okay Feyre." Meeting eye contact with him, he had sent you a small nod of his head and smile before disappearing into the dark.

Your best friend looked at you in question, but a deeper thought was spinning in her head. However, the little throat clear of the healer nearby jumpstarted the next 24 hours of care and therapy from your best friend and the best healers in Prythian. The whole endeavor couldn't tear your thoughts to a certain inner court male and the way his arms felt around you.

Maybe you would be okay.

#acotar #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #feyre archeron

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endless-ineffabilities · 3 months ago

Text

the only place (Ewan Mitchell x f!reader)

a/n: a purely self-indulgent little blurb inspired by the latest crumbs of our Iceberg! <3

main masterlist ▪︎ next part

Ewan attends the press night of The Other Place. As the audience is filing in, and the theatre is abuzz with excitement, he sees you.

Ewan could not stop looking at you.

It was almost silly, the way his head kept whipping back in your direction, as you stood a little distance away, talking to Bethany.

Harry and his friend were telling Ewan of their recent trip to Ibiza, and he didn't want to be rude, but their words were becoming muffled due to him straining to hear the sound of your voice. You gestured enthusiastically to Bethany as you regaled her with a story, and that smile – damn, that smile.

"So we ended up staying until 8 that morning, can you believe that?" Harry exclaimed, pausing to allow Ewan to react.

When he received no response, Harry trailed Ewan's gaze right to you.

"You smitten, mate?" Harry grinned. "Go say hi to her!"

"Wh-what?" Ewan stammered. Smooth. It wasn't an easy drop from high up in the clouds where his mind drifted. You drew him there, and he remained suspended in your allure.

"That's Beth's friend. She's really lovely, you know. You should introduce yourself," Harry said. When he sensed Ewan's hesitation, he pressed on, "Come on, you clearly want to."

Bethany was pulled aside by another friend, so Ewan took that as his cue, his legs moving as if on autopilot. A moth drawn to your flame.

He reached you, and your eyes widened slightly at his sudden appearance.

He had always thought himself a poet at heart, spending countless hours poring over complex books, but all he could muster in that instance was, "Hello."

But it apparently was enough, because you smiled brightly at him. You practically glowed in his eyes.

"Hi," you replied warmly. "Oh, I know who you are. I love Aemond Targaryen."

"Oh?" His heart jumped, pitter pattering in his ears. "Well, I'm flattered. Thank you."

"Yeah, I think you're a brilliant actor." You expressed genuinely, before offering your hand out and introducing yourself.

"That's a beautiful name," he remarked.

"Thanks," you mumbled shyly, looking down briefly. Was he getting to you? Was he having the same effect on you as you have on him? Impossible.

"You're friends with Bethany?" he asks.

"I am, for quite some time now. Ever since I moved to this city."

"Hmm." He smiled, his confidence gaining a much needed boost. He asked you a couple more questions, eager to hear every one of your responses. The attraction only deepened the more he found out about you.

At some point, he asked, "How are you finding the city? Has Bethany shown you around?"

"Well, the city's been amazing. You really can never run out of stuff to do, and Beth's been great at taking me to the best spots out there, you know?"

"Yeah, that's good. There's this... uhhh... indie cinema that I go to all the time. It's quite lowkey, very niche. Do you like watching movies?"

You beamed, shrugging as if to say obviously. "Movies are my bread and butter, Ewan."

"Mine too," he noted, before hitting home. It was now or never. "We should visit that cinema together sometime."

A beat passed. His throat tightened slightly in anticipation. He must have done something wrong. He forgot to say please. He forgot to add, if you want.

Was he coming on too strong?

"Are you asking me out?" You tilted your head at him, eyes narrowing. He took a mental picture, saving it for your grandkids.

Yours and his. He cringed inwardly. He severely needed to get a grip.

"Yes... I am."

"Well, then... I would love to."

He thanked his lucky stars. He thanked Emma in his mind for starring in that play and inviting him tonight.

That play – truly the best and most excellent that there ever was and ever will be. And it had not even started yet.

To Ewan, no other play will ever compare until the end of time.

Because it led him to you.

#ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell x reader #ewan mitchell imagine #ewan mitchell fanfiction #house of the dragon #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader

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l4mplight · 6 months ago

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Miquella and Trina; A Tragedy

Hey Tumblr. I have a lot of thoughts about Shadow of the Erdtree, and these ones... let's just say I don't think they'd do well on Reddit. It's not often that I feel particularly impacted by a particular fictional character. Usually I connect more with narrative arcs and themes, which is why I think I'm so drawn to the ephemeral, vibes based storytelling of Fromsoft's games. Playing through SOTE, though, I found Miquella (and St Trina) to be extremely emotionally compelling and relatable, and I wasn't sure exactly why. I think I've put my finger on it now though. First of all, know that I am writing from the perspective that Miquella is a sympathetic character. I know that it's not uncommon to read him as a manipulative Machiavellian villain, but I think that's both a misreading of the text as well as just plain boring. Like, he's not a Griffith clone you guys, give From some credit. Anyway, here we go.

"You have no understanding. Of Miquella the Kind. Of St. Trina's Love.

Content Warning: I'll be discussing themes of depression, and the implication of suicidal ideation.

So, a classic Fromsoftware theme is despair, and the ways we cope with a world full of it. It shows up twice in Shadow of the Erdtree; with Midra and the Frenzied Flame, where despair leads to a selfish nihilism that asks us to burn everything down, and with Thiollier and St Trina, who offer sleep as a comfort to the weary. Running a small errand for Thiollier has him say the following.

"If you find yourself… weary of the weight of this life, then just give me the word. Sleep is a balm, and eternal sleep… is an elixir."

Drinking the elixir he offers will, of course, result in an instant death. This is our first encounter with the idea of "Eternal Sleep," a more potent form of the sleep status effect that only appears here in the Shadowlands, after St Trina has been abandoned. The Velvet Sword of St. Trina tells us as much: "Silver sword of St. Trina, now stained the color of velvet. Inflicts eternal sleep. When St. Trina was abandoned, the faint, light-purple mists coalesced into an intoxicating deep-purple cloud." In order to ascend to godhood, Miquella abandons first his physical body, and then the more abstract aspects of himself. As we begin to descend down the fissure where we'll find Trina, a cross marks the spot as the place where Miquella abandoned his love. This connects Trina, "the discarded half" as Thiollier puts it, with Miquella's love. Leda confirms this in her own dialogue:

"St. Trina's love for Kind Miquella is boundless. She is, after all, his other half. Or perhaps her feelings go beyond even that. Even if she was left behind, I doubt her heart would waver."

Keep that in mind, it'll be relevant later.

Near the cross, a spirit offers up some of the most heartbreaking dialogue I've come across so far. The spirit gives us a bigger picture of Miquella's goals:

"Kindly Miquella... I see you've thrown away... something you should not have. Under any circumstances. How will you salvation offer... to those who cannot be saved? When you could not even save your other self?"

I teared up at this. The emotional impacted was aided by the fact that I ran into the spirit right after telling Moore to put his past behind him, leading him to rededicate himself to Miquella. He says:

"Hm. Maybe that’s Kindly Miquella’s love. Love for all the unloved. Love, to banish the pain."

Note here that Moore suggest Miquella's love will "banish the pain." This is also essentially what Trina's sleep does. It's a comfort to those in need. Anyway, between these two instances, we end up with a pretty good picture of the sort of god Miquella wants to become. He was already sympathetic to the outcasts of The Lands Between in the basegame, where he built Elphael and the Haligtree as a haven for those rejected by the Golden Order, such as the Albinaurics and Misbegotten we find there. In the Shadowlands, he has gone a step further. Hornsent tells us that he has committed himself, in essence, to righting Marika's wrongs.

"Miquella has said as much himself – he wishes now to throw it all away. He says the act – though undoubtedly painful – will sear clean the Erdtree’s wanton sin. The truth of his claim can be found at each cross. 'Tis evidence enough to earn my belief."

Of all of Marika's children, Miquella is the only one to see the serious flaws in her empire. Ymir points this out to us as well.

"No matter our efforts, if the roots are rotten, then we have little recourse. Ever-Young Miquella saw things for what they were. He knew his bloodline was tainted, his roots mired in madness. A tragedy if there ever was one. That he would feel compelled to renounce everything when the blame lay squarely with the mother."

My thinking here is aligned with Mother Ymir. You really have to feel for Miquella; he has essentially taken on, alone, the responsibility of making up for centuries of Golden Order imperialism. That's a massive burden to bear, especially for Miquella, cursed with eternal childhood.

(It's easy to miss, but Miquella actually ages up significantly when we see him in god-form. Until he steps back through the Divine Gate, he would have looked and sounded like he does in the introductory art and in ending memory scene. Compare those with how he appears in the boss fight, and it's clear godhood at least helped him reach puberty lol) So we've established that Miquella is the child of Imperial Rome on Steroids, is cursed with eternal childhood, and is an empathetic prodigy with the weight of the world on his shoulders. Surely his mental state is perfectly healthy, right? Right??

Final warning, this is where things get quite sad. Here is where I will try to tie Miquella's arc together with Thiollier and St Trina, and the comforting oblivion and relief from despair that sleep represents for them.

As we search for St Trina, we descend down into the Stone Coffin Fissure. This is a place of death, with massive coffins built into the fissure walls, and Gravebirds, Bloodfiends and Putrescent enemies everywhere. St Trina is found at the deepest possible pit of this fissure, in a swamp of putrescence that has since blossomed into a garden of deep velvet lilies because of her influence. Trina offers us nectar of "eternal sleep," as Thiollier did previously, and as established then, "eternal sleep" is essentially nothing more than a peaceful death. Trina seems to fit in quite well in this place of ancient dead things, with some of the ancient remains even being compelled to fight for her in exchange for eternal rest, becoming the Putrescent Knight.

(Side note for levity because we're about to get sad again; I love this guy. It's a knight made out of the skeleton of a horse, riding on that same horse's decaying flesh goop body. Like, ugh. Beautiful. Plus, it may even have taken that shape because of Trina sharing Miquella's memories of Radahn, who was never far from his horse Leonard...)

We meet St Trina in her garden, and when we imbibe her nectar, we eventually begin to hear her voice in our death-dreams. She seems to pity him. Mourn for him, almost.

"Make Miquella stop... Don't turn the poor thing into a god..."

Trina appears to be in a bad state after her fall. She can only manage to get a few words across to us at once. Just as Leda predicted, her heart hasn't wavered. She is only concerned with Miquella's well-being.

"Godhood would be Miquella's prison. A caged divinity... is beyond saving."

Trina's most pressing concern is that godhood will be a prison for Miquella. Now, this could in theory be because gods are subject to manipulation from the Fingers and the Greater Will or a similar reason, but given that she calls him a "poor thing," I think there is likely a more emotional reason behind Trina's plea. I think that Trina is speaking as the embodiment of Miquella's love, but especially his ability to love and care for himself...

"You must kill Miquella... Grant him forgiveness."

...and she asks us to kill him.

In excising Trina from his being, I think Miquella also expelled the part of himself that was able to recognize how miserable divinity would be for him, and how miserable he was. The part of him that was tired of carrying the responsibilities that his compassion demanded of him. The part of him that was exhausted, despairing and desperate from having failed to cure Malenia, failed to save Godwyn, failed to perfect the Haligtree. St Trina is the part of Miquella that wanted to be stopped, to rest, to sleep, to die. In abandoning her as he does, Miquella is essentially repressing those thoughts and feelings, replacing them with more "selfless" ones; self-sacrifice, suffering on behalf of others, his martyrdom and apotheosis. I don't want to forget about "grant him forgiveness" either. She might mean forgiveness for failing to become a god, for not being good enough to succeed Marika and right her wrings. Maybe forgiveness for failing Malenia and Godwyn, or for leaving the Haligtree behind. Maybe even for abandoning her. But on the road to godhood, Miquella can't afford to indulge in this sort of self-pity. A child craves forgiveness and approval, a god must cast these things out.

"I'm feeling rather lost. Haunted by memories. Of St. Trina. Her visage. Her scent. The lure of velvety sleep. Would Kindly Miquella chasten me? For falling for St. Trina, while knowing that she was the discarded half? The problem is… I simply cannot help it. I would sacrifice everything, just to gaze upon her, one last time."

I want to mention Thiollier one more time here too. His primary visual motif is the long white braids that he wears on his clothes, reminiscent of Miquella and Trina's own signature braids (remember, she looked like an older feminine Miquella before her fall and injury). Thiollier is obsessed with Trina, pursuing her to hear her voice and fade into the comfort of her velvet sleep, though this doesn't kill him like it does us. I don't think Thiollier is connected to Miquella in any textual way, but I think he does serve as a reflection of the sorts of thoughts Miquella may have been surpressing. The self-pity, the need for approval and love, the feelings of weakness and uselessness. These are the things that lead Thiollier to pursue endless slumber.

Thiollier doesn't give in to that despair, however. Though he initially takes St. Trina's words... poorly, he eventually realizes what must be done, and dedicates himself to his new purpose: carrying out her final wish.

"I am here to serve St. Trina evermore. I am deeply sorry. For doubting you. I am here only to grant St. Trina's singular wish. I will stop Miquella the kind. He will never become a god."

This post is already quite long, but I also want to mention the obvious gender stuff going on here. There are a number of moments that make it seem as though St. Trina might actually be more than just "half" of Miquella. Firstly, as she is shown falling in the story trailer, Leda is describing how Miquella abandoned his fate, as if Trina had a vital role to play in Miquella's future. It also seems as though Trina isn't cursed in the same way that Miquella is; her voice and size indicate that she is at least more substantial than his "infant form," and she is depicted in "adult form, somewhat unnervingly" on the Torch of St. Trina. Furthermore, her "adult form" has a third eye in the middle of her forehead. The third eye is a symbol of enlightenment in both Hinduism and Buddhism; it seems that Trina has achieved some level of wholeness in this depiction. Meanwhile, when Miquella achieves godhood, his eyes remain permanently shut. He also appears to have only one physical arm. He holds Radahn with two incorporeal arms while casting with his real right arm, but his left arm appears to fade away to nothing before the elbow, as if unfinished. Miquella's blindness and asymmetry here, I think, reflect how unbalanced and incomplete his divinity is without Trina.

One more hint towards St Trina being a part of Miquella's future lies way back at the Haligtree. In Malenia's bossroom, just above where Miquella's cocoon was once embedded into the tree, the branches and roots appear to form a silhouette. This could be Miquella, Trina, or both, but I do see a certain resemblance to Trina's depiction on the torch in the way the "hair" covers the eyes. Given that Miquella's body appears to have grown a decent amount inside of the cocoon when we see in at Mohg's palace, it's possible that the cocoon situation was his original attempt to cure himself of his own curse, or perhaps become a part of the Haligtree itself. In the Shaman Village, Marika's home, there is a similar scene. A woman's body that resembles Marika seemingly mummified within the hollow of a tree. I honestly have no idea what to make of that just yet, but I thought it worth a mention.

So, with all that in mind, abandoning Trina seems to be even more significant. Not only has Miquella divested himself of his love and his fate, but maybe even his future, too. Being eternally nascent, he is always in a state of potential, after all. Am I suggesting that Miquella is a transfeminine character? That he was meant to grow up to become a goddess in the aspect of St. Trina, or maybe even more like Marika than he already is? Well, maybe. If you find it compelling, then absolutely. Fromsoftware's storytelling is always ambiguous, and is always design to leave us some room to read and interpret, to really play in the space we are given. Personally, I do find it compelling in a horribly tragic sort of way, fitting for the setting. It's also entirely possible that I have rather self-indulgently projected some of my own angst onto these character. I likely have, to be perfectly honest. It's rare that I really connect with a set of characters or a story like I have with this lot, and I hope that maybe some of you reading this will feel similarly. If you have read this far, thanks <3

#elden ring #shadow of the erdtree #miquella #st trina #elden ring dlc #miquella the unalloyed #thiollier #elden ring sote #elden ring spoilers #elden ring lore

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frenchkisstheabyss · 4 months ago

Text

♰ ₥ØĐɆⱤ₦ ĐɆ₥Ø₦₴ ♰

♰ Pairing: slasher!yunho x chubby!fem!slasher fucker!reader

♰ Genre: smut/dark romance/horror

♰ Summary: With a ruthless, brutal killer on the loose the safe thing to do would be to stay as far away from dangerous men as possible. But you've never been the kind of girl to play it safe and when danger comes in the form of a man like Yunho, how's a girl to stay away?

♰ Word Count: 3.4k-ish

♰ Warnings: Yunho's a literal serial killer, neither of you die but someone does, sorta vivid description of a limb being chopped off, voyeruism in a way, slasher fetish, sadism, masochism, dom daddy Yunho, choking, restriction of movement, a lil nipple play, penetrative sex, sex covered in blood, dirty talk, scratching, hickeys, other forms of marking, creampie, manhandling, pet names (baby, princess, good girl), you're both kinda psychos...obviously.

♰ A/N: I'd like to say, "Oh, I wrote this because Halloween is coming up!" but, no, I didn't. I'm just a slasher fucker, okay? A part of this was inspired by one of my favorite horror movies and if you can guess it then let's get married. Love you forever.

On a side note, thank you @dawn-iscozy for suggesting Yunho for this. I didn't regret that decision for a solitary minute.

There’s a killer on the loose. A brutal, wicked man who stalks the night preying upon unsuspecting victims. Some say he only goes after those he perceives as having done something wrong. His own perverse way of balancing the scales, righting the wrongs that the cops don’t have the balls to fix.

Others say it doesn’t matter who you are or what you do. Your chances of being butchered are all the same, sinner or saint. One thing’s for sure, once he has his sights set on you not even god himself can save you from the fate that awaits. You’re gone in the blink of an eye, never to be seen again. At least not in one piece.

You’ve heard the warnings a thousand times over but none of them struck fear into your heart. On the contrary, you have quite the erotic fascination with his art as he calls it in the letters he leaves behind. There’s something about what he does that taps into a fetish for danger that you dare not tell another living soul about. You want to play with fire, scorch the tips of your fingers in his flames. That’s how you ended up here, straddling the lap of a man who claims to be the killer your sick little heart yearns for.

You met at a club. The kind where people go to indulge their wildest fantasies, no matter how depraved. You were wandering around alone in a tight latex mini dress that fit the richness of your curves like a glove. You had your hair pinned up the way you do now, waterfalls of curls spilling down to frame your face. Expertly applied black lipstick adorned your kissable lips, drawing men in enough that they’d lose their minds thinking of all the things that pretty mouth could do. The man beneath you was among them.

He spotted you from across the room, your figure bathed in red neon light as you sat at the bar plotting your next move. You let him buy you a few drinks, loosening you both up enough that secrets began to spill as freely as the vodka in your glass. “I wanna know if I tell you a secret, will you keep it?” the dark haired man whispered in your ear, a hand hovering dangerously close to your inner thigh. You swore that you would, hand over your heart. And that’s when he confessed. Your clear fascination with the man known as the Seoul Slasher had prompted him to reveal himself to you.

You couldn’t believe it. A real live serial killer, an absolute monster, so hypnotized by you he was nearly drooling down your cleavage. Going against every self preservation tactic they taught you in school, you invited him back to your place for a bit of fun. An offer he excitedly accepted. For a man whose entire modus operandi is control, he was more than happy to relinquish it to you. In no time you had him spread out on your bed, arms and legs handcuffed to the bed frame.

The entire room’s dark save for the flickering wicks of a few candles sprinkled about the room. You run a hand down his bare chest, sharp nails nicking at his tattooed flesh. He hisses at the sting, grinding his hips up against your core to add some pleasure to the pain.

You let out a giggle, fingers teasing the waist of his pants, “Tell me how you did it.” You flash your doe eyes, tightening your plush thighs around his hips.

“How’d I do what?” he asks, far too preoccupied with your body to hone in on your words.

“Those last two guys you killed. I wanna know every gory detail. You can tell me while I ride your cock.”

Your words certainly aren’t falling on deaf ears. He heard you loud and clear. He takes a calculated pause before providing you with a less than satisfying answer. “I used a butcher knife. Chopped them up real easy. Some of my best work I’d say.”

“Oh” you pout, shoulders dropping. You fold your arms across your chest, your disappointment hanging heavy in the air. “You really shouldn’t lie, you know? It’s a nasty habit.”

“Lie?” he scoffs, a nervous smile creeping across his face. His deception has failed and he doesn’t have enough brain cells to save this sinking ship. “I’m not lying, babe. I’m telling you. I used a butcher knife.”

You point an accusatory finger at him, applying pressure right between his eyes. “Dirty, dirty, liar” you sing, “You aren’t the Seoul Slasher.”

“And how would you know?” he asks, unjustly offended at the fact that you aren’t stupid enough to buy his bullshit.

You lean in close, the warm flames of the candles reflecting in your eyes like hellfire. “Because I’m already fucking him and he’s not too happy about you going around pretending to be him. It’s just bad manners.”

His smile grows more strained, his nervous laughter tickling the tip of your nose. He can’t tell if you’re serious or not but this is getting a little weird. Even for him. You watch him for a moment before erupting in soft, sweet laughter that mocks him. Reaching underneath your pillow you pull out a gag and shove it right into his mouth, shutting him up for the first time tonight.

“Baby, I’m done playing now!” you call out like a housewife announcing that dinner’s ready.

You sit back up, climbing off of him, and skip your way over to the dresser on the other side of the room. You hop up, feet giddily swinging back and forth to the tune of heavy footsteps descending the hallway. The man’s eyes dart over to the closed bedroom door, his heart thumping out of his chest. You can make out a few muffled protests but you dare not take it out. There’s nothing he can say that interests you now. Not that it ever did.

When your best friend first told you that a guy at the club was going around claiming to be the Slasher, you couldn’t believe your ears. Especially not when the real one was sleeping peacefully beside you. Further investigation proved that your best friend had been telling the truth so he had to be dealt with. Then another popped up and another. This one will make for the 4th and you must admit, as annoying as identity theft is for your boyfriend, you get a kick out of luring them here.

They always start out so cocky but once the gag’s in and those footsteps come, getting closer and closer at an agonizing pace, they’re not so confident anymore. At first they freeze up just like the corpse they’re soon to be. The shock does need a few seconds to set in. And then they panic, screaming through the gag and tugging at their bindings, their bodies writhing like a fish out of water. This one’s no different than the others. You can guess his next move like a film you’ve watched a dozen times and all of it’s in vain.

Sweat slicks his brow as the door creaks open and your face lights up like the Fourth of July. You breathe a sigh of relief. There he is. You’ve only been apart for hours but it feels like an eternity. A tall figure steps out of the shadows into the candlelight, revealing a handsome man in tailored black pants and a black button up you pressed yourself. His sleeves are rolled up, tucked just below the elbow where a pair of long black latex gloves begin. He spares the unfortunate soul strapped to the bed a passing glance before approaching you. He leans forward, palms flat on the dresser, caging you in.

“Did I do okay?” you question innocently, always hungry for the praise he never fails to feed you.

Yunho nods, gloved fingers stroking your soft cheek, “Oh, my good girl. You did more than okay. What would I do without you?”

Taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, he tilts your head up, capturing your lips in a kiss that would soak your panties if you were wearing any. He takes a deep breath as he pulls away, not wanting to but knowing that time is of the essence.

“Did he touch you?” Yunho’s jaw tenses, gloved hands flexing to warm up for the night’s events.

You peek around him to check in on the dark haired man. His face is wet with tears and he’s sobbing all over your new gag. You pray he hasn’t pissed himself. You’re not in the mood to have to buy a new mattress again.

You look back to your boyfriend and nod. “In the car he put his hand on my thigh.”

“Thank you for telling me, baby,” Yunho says, kissing you on the forehead. He turns around, eyes darkening as he approaches the foot of the bed. “I’ll start with his hands.”

Kneeling down, he slides a large case from underneath the bed and pops it open to reveal his tools. The spread is a pristine assortment of autopsy tools, not a lowly butcher knife in sight. He delicately runs his fingers over them, settling on the fine toothed bone saw. Your gaze never leaves him as he rounds the bed, aligning the sharp teeth of the saw with what you’ve come to know as the ulna. The bone right on his inner forearm.

Yunho grinds the saw against it and the man’s arm tears open, tattered pieces of flesh splintering off to the side as he carves his way through tough tendons. Blood gushes from the man’s arm, drenching the brand new sheets in a river of crimson. Yunho’s movements are precise and purposeful. The saw taps bone as the body below him convulses violently, the pain beyond anything you can imagine or ever care to.

Your boyfriend pauses, glancing over at you, and you know it’s about that time. You open one of the drawers beside you, fishing out your phone and a pair of over ear headphones. You sync them up, hitting play on your favorite song, and smile lovingly back at him.

He can’t be as brutal when he knows you’re listening. It’s one of few things about his profession he’s never quite been able to bring himself to expose you to. Even with the man’s cries muffled, being dismantled brings sounds out of someone that could give the most vile person nightmares. You can watch all you want but you won’t hear them.

It’d be easy to say that you weren’t like this before you met him. You were a sweet, delicate flower and this charming psychopath came along, corrupting your young soul. But a girl doesn’t get wet watching her boyfriend dismember people because she had her purity corrupted.

You were never innocent, you’d simply presented yourself as such. Yunho just freed you from the prison of feeling guilty about what got you off. Power. Not being at the mercy of anyone. Yunho treats you like a princess. You’re never left wanting for anything. Your every desire is satisfied. So what if your Prince Charming comes with a body count? Nobody’s perfect.

Yunho makes quick work of the body. After the slice to his second arm the man’s already at death’s door and the severing of his knees puts the final nail in the coffin. Yunho tosses the body parts to the ground like the limbs of an old doll. Breathless and blood soaked as he licks splatters of scarlet from his lip, he goes in for another cut.

You’re the only other thing he looks at like he does his work. The excitement of the kill is borderline orgasmic, dopamine coursing through his veins with every gruesome cut. Once he starts he has to keep going, chasing his high until it’s finished and the body’s nothing more than scattered pieces of an impossible puzzle.

Shoving the torso to the floor, he steps back to catch his breath, waving to get your attention. You slip your headphones off, setting them down to navigate the landmine of limbs and entrails to reach your love.

“You need some water, Yunie?” you ask, throwing your arms around him. The blood weighing down his clothes sticks to your arms, cool against your skin. It used to feel a bit strange but after a few times you’ve come to find it refreshing like a cool shower on a hot day.

Yunho shakes his head, a dazed look in his eyes. Usually the adrenaline begins to die down after that final cut but it’s only getting more intense. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he salivates over you like a man on the brink of starvation. “No, I need you. Right now.”

His lips crash into yours at a thousand miles per hour and you don’t even attempt to stop him. Why would you? Bloody gloves cling to your dress, stripping you of the material. You rip his shirt open, sending buttons raining down onto the slippery hardwood floor. Yunho’s hands ravenously explore your body as you rid him of his pants, painting your plush figure in blood like a canvas.

Attempting to feast upon your body through gloves is as close to torture as he’s ever come so he tears them off, groaning in delight as his bare hands sink into your pillowy ass. He picks you up, tossing you back on the bed, your breasts bouncing marvelously as you land.

You grin watching your boyfriend stare down at you like an absolute animal. His body’s everything dreams are made of, his flawless, rigid cock already leaking in anticipation. You spread your thighs, teasing him with the arousal dripping from your entrance. Bringing two fingers between your legs, you stroke them between your lips, spreading yourself open for him.

“You want it?” you moan, back arching as you pinch your sensitive clit.

Yunho positions himself between your legs, palming his cock above a pussy that’s clenching wildly at the ghost of what could be. He places a hand on your thigh, admiring the view. You in a sea of blood toying with yourself for his pleasure. What a sight to behold.

“You aren’t teasing me are you?” he asks, gripping your thigh tighter. His voice is low and rough, feral in every way.

You bring your slick fingers up to the head of his cock, coating it on your juices. “And what if I am?”

You motion to get up, your brain set on tasting his cock on your tongue, but Yunho’s quicker than you, grabbing your wrists and pinning your arms over your head. His free hand wraps around your neck, the veins of his arms pulsing as he applies the right amount of pressure to leave you breathless but not in pain.

“Do you want it?” He bumps his cock against your slit, missing on purpose to drag it between your folds. Your body shudders as much as it can with his full weight on you.

“Mmhmm” you hum, knowing he won’t hurt you but loving that you’re completely at his mercy.

“You know that’s not enough, baby” he smiles, squeezing your throat tighter, “I need to hear it, princess. Tell me you want it. Beg for daddy’s cock.”

He presses his throbbing tip to your entrance but this time he arches into you, giving you the head and nothing more. The stretch of that alone is disorienting, a wave of heat rushing through you. Releasing his hold on your throat, he brings his lips to yours, parting them to taste the desperate pleas that spill out.

“I want you to fuck me, Yunie. I’m so needy for your cock. I have been all night” you whine and his tongue traces your lips. You taste delicious. He inches into you, feeding you a little more then stopping. A little more then stopping. And your body jumps with every motion, pitiful sounds pouring from your lips onto his.

“Fuck me” you beg, an undeniable brokeness in your tone, “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck…” Your voice trails off, eyes rolling back as he bottoms out. He lifts off of you, still holding your arms in place above your head, and thrusts into you ever so gently. You clamp down around him tightly enough that it’s hard to move, your pussy's too needy to let go.

Yunho grins, cupping one of your breasts, “I didn’t know watching me kill got you so hot. You’re sick, you know that?” He pinches your nipple harshly and you squeal, twisting in his hold.

“I know” you moan, blowing him a kiss, “But so are you.”

“Fuck, I love you” he growls, pulling you under with another dizzying kiss.

His thrusts grow harsher, your warm, spongy walls drawing him in impossibly deeper. His fingers knead the tender flesh of your breast as he brings his tongue down to soak your bud in equal parts blood and spit. Taking the bud between his teeth, he wraps his lip around it, suckling at it without losing his rhythm between your legs.

“Yunie. So good. So, mmph, aah…” you’re moaning but he gives one particularly hard thrust to your cunt, knocking the words right out of your mouth.

You want to touch him so badly. To dig your nails into his back while he fucks into you. To run your fingers through his hair, tugging at the deep brown strands as his tongue swirls around your bud.

“Touch” you pout, wiggling your hands.

Yunho pops your bud free of his lips, licking his way up your breasts, across your heated skin, along your neck, until you’re eye to eye. “Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna touch you. Please, daddy” you plead. You’re so helpless. So beautiful.

Yunho watches you squirm, feigning indecision. After an agonizingly long contemplation, he turns your arms loose, the redness on your wrists marking where he held you. Your hands are drawn to him like magnets, scouring every inch of him they can reach just to feel him.

Your nails find his back, digging into the flesh. Yunho buries his face in your neck, moaning at the sensation. “Harder” he whispers, fingers knotting in the sheets beneath you. You dig your nails in deeper, breaking skin, and he’s on the edge of a whimper, the sensation nearly too much for him.

Slipping an arm around your back, he keeps you flush against him, sinking into you over and over. Your mouth falls open, eyes squeezed closed. You’re saying something but nothing’s coming out. Only whines and moans, the occasional fractured piece of his name.

There’s no bracing yourself for a cock this long and thick. You just have to take it, let it destroy every bit of you until there’s nothing left. A sense of euphoria surges through you and your legs instinctively lock around his waist.

“That’s it” he coos, fawning over the string of hickeys he’s left on your neck, “Be a good girl and cum for me.” Yunho grabs for your wrists one last time, locking them above your head. He pounds into you so hard the bed creaks, maybe even moves a few inches. “I wanna feel you gushing around this cock.”

Suddenly your breath hitches and your body feels weightless. It’s as if you’re floating above yourself. Watching this gorgeous man fuck you into the mattress like his own personal whore. And you are. You’re more than happy to be. Your senses come back to you in a rush of ecstasy and you’re trembling, crying out as you do exactly as he said. Creaming, gushing, dripping down his length.

Yunho pulls back, kneeling between your legs to drag his cock out and glide it back in. He goes all starry eyed at the sight of his cock glistening in your cum and soon he’s spilling inside of you. Your needy walls milking his cock of the warm, white liquid that overflows from your delicious pussy.

His hand comes down on your plush belly, enjoying its softness as he feeds you those last few strokes. You’re still moaning weakly when he finishes, laying back on the bed and pulling you on top of him.

Curled up safe and warm in his arms, you bask in the afterglow, thoughts of the man your boyfriend dismantled little more than a distant thought now. But ultimately it’s difficult to ignore. Especially when your eyes drift up and you notice something dangling in the corner of your eye.

“Yunie” you say, lightly petting his shoulder.

Yunho strokes your hair, looking down at you lovingly, “Yes, baby?”

“I think his hand’s still attached to the handcuff.”

#ateez x reader #ateez x you #ateez x female reader #ateez smut #yunho x you #yunho x reader #yunho smut #chubby reader #plus size reader #ateez au

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vendettavalor · 1 year ago

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// I doodled werewoof Eyes and he came out so pretty ❤️

#art : just color in the lines and you'll get it like they promise #self : i'm going down in flames #( cm : pierre eyes laurent guillame )

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illya-roma · 2 years ago

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DP X DP PROMPT

Klarion wasn't the type to destroy planets if it wasn't fun for him, but unfortunately he was rage quitting earth apparently.

The entire justice league were at their wits at the moment, nothing had worked for the Lord Of Chaos.

Green light flashed behind them, but green lantern was right beside them?

"Klarion Jasmine Nightingale, get down here right now."

A look to the woman showed her bright flaming hair and red eyes that held no fear.

Confusing everyone, klarion had immediately stopped his tantrum and stood infront of her.

Even more confusing is that Klarion looked regretful and.....shy?????

"Klarion, do you know why I called you down?"

"..."

Not even Alfred could rival her disappointed stare. And klarion hesitantly looked up.

"...because you love me and would let me go unpunished?"

"...Klarion."

"Because I'm hurting people for someone else's mistake.."

"And?"

"And I'm only allowed to follow my obsession healthily without falling into self destructiive paths..."

" and what will you do now?"

"Apologise and fix everything..aaaand try not to do it again."

The creature's face softens and klarion flashes one of the normal kid like cheeky smiles.

-----

Jasmine, ancient of Madness.

Klarion, ancient of Chaos, child of Madness.

Go off, show me what you will make.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dpxdc #lmao we havent done this one yet #jazz is overworked so let her be destructive

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thinkingotherwise · 5 months ago

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Summer time!

~Let's go to the beach-each Let's go get a wave...~

I'm not a beach person but anything for the Bofurin Primo

Wind Breaker characters on the beach with you

Bubble gun 🫧🔫

Seiryu Sakaki - The moment you took out the bubble gun his eyes were glued to it and he waited for the perfect moment. You filled it with bubble liquid and when your finger moved to the trigger to try it, it disappeared from your hand within a second. You looked surprised to the side to see Seiryuu smirking at you before his hand raised higher and he used it making the bubbles fall down around you and on your body.

Mitsuki Kiryu - Your beach bag was slowly emptying as you pulled out everything you needed. Noticing the toy in your collection he didn't think twice before grabbing it. His eyes glimmered in joy while his lips turned into a smirk. He gave you a quick kiss and tested the bubble gun before running around while attacking his friends with the bubbles.

Kotoha Tachibana - Your gaze turned to her, as she lay down on her beach chair. You contemplated hard about what to do, was your plan gonna work? Sink or swim, let's go. You quickly made up your mind and sneakily took out the bubble gun before stealthily standing behind her. Your hand extended and bubbles came out of the toy and coated her in the soapy substance. She sighed deeply before quickly turning to you and grabbing the thing from your hand. Her face scowling while yours pouted begging for her to give it back.

Takeshi Enomoto - You loved to irritate him, lovingly of course. Anything to have his attention on you and only you. And he, because he loved you way too much, knew you well enough to be reacting to your strange antics in a different way than this. He had a poker face while you ran around him spraying the bubbles around him and then around you playing with them and trying to pop each one that appeared. He breathed deeply and just let you have the time of your life. Seeing your big grin a small smile appeared on his face.

Inflatable flaming/unicorn 🦄🦩

Jo Togame - Oh it was such a great purchase. You thought as you finished pumping the air inside the pink flamingo float. It was perfect for keeping some distance from the rest of the unruly guys from Shishitoren and their water shenanigans. You grabbed the float and entered the water with it before proudly sitting on it and watching everyone have fun and drown themselves (playfully). That was until he swam closer to you and tried to get you to join them. Yet your stubborn self decided to keep yourself on top of the pink flamingo. His smirk made you question his next actions as he swam under water disappearing from your view. Suddenly you were thrown from the float with a yelp and as you came up above the water he smirked at you grabbing you closer to him and swimming closer to others while you trashed in his hold.

Choji Tomiyama - If you knew it would happen you would bring a mattress or something bigger to lay on, rather than the unicorn float. And what exactly happened? You weren't sure either, one second you were floating on the unicorn happily playing with your hands in the water, and the next he appeared above you falling down on you as if jumping from somewhere, or maybe one of the guys helped him. It didn't end well, because as soon as he landed on you, both of you went flying as the unicorn titled sideways making you fall into the water with a splash and he laughed joyfully wanting to do this again.

Yukinari Arima - It was such a bad idea. You jumped in the water trying to get on top of the unicorn float you brought with you to the beach. You should've climbed it when the water wasn't so deep, also as soon as you thought about it you should've done it, maybe then you wouldn't still be in the water while he was taking your place on the float. He made fun of you for not being able to climb on the unicorn and when you told him he couldn't do it as well he proved you wrong. And now the unicorn was stolen from you as you whined from your place in the water and he laughed joyfully sinking in his victory.

Yuto Kusumi - You laughed to yourself from your place above water as you floated happily. He swam near you asking if you would let him join you. After you declined it with a grin he decided to take some revenge. The sun brought you sleepiness and you had a quick nap all the while he watched as you drifted further away but always making sure it wasn't too far away from him. When you finally woke up wiping the sleep from your eyes you were further in the water than you expected and panicked a little calling for him to help you out. He teased you but still came to help you. In thanks you let him join you on the pink flamingo.

Sunscreen ☀️🧴

Toma Hiiragi - His eyes furrowed the moment the words left the stranger's mouth. He quickly made his way to you and glared at him before grabbing the sunscreen bottle from your hands and moving to kneel beside you. You giggled as he voiced that you're perfectly fine and don't need this stranger's help. He can't even imagine anyone else but him touching you and massaging the sunscreen onto your body. You happily positioned yourself as his hands started moving over your warm skin, teasing him here and there that you wouldn't let anyone else do it and there was no need for him to get jealous.

Minoru Kanuma - You finished putting the sunscreen on him and then he moved to do the same for you. Although the feeling was slightly different than you thought as his fingers slowly moved over your body. First, you didn't mind it all that much focusing simply on the feeling of his palm against you but then you thought about it more and when it came to you, you turned to him with accusation evident on your face. You asked him if he was writing on your back instead of applying the sunscreen evenly and he couldn't help the laugh that left his mouth as you glared at him in betrayal. After confirming your accusation he promised to do it correctly this time.

Ren Kaji - He sat down beside you watching carefully as you applied the sunscreen over your legs and arms. His gaze followed the movement of your fingers as if hypnotized and you smirked to yourself when you noticed it from the corner of your eyes. The next moment the bottle was in front of him as you gazed at him with your pretty eyes asking him to put it on you. He gulped grabbing the sunscreen and facing your partially naked body. And then you lay down telling him to sit on your legs because that way it'd be easier. He didn't know why he agreed but he did and later he had to keep himself in check as his hands slowly massaged the substance over your warm and soft skin.

Akihiko Nirei - The moment you finished putting on your sunscreen you turned with a smile to him. He gulped seeing the mischievous sparkle in your eyes and when you proposed to put the thing on his back he flushed red. He stuttered out a confirmation while you positioned yourself behind him your chest close to his back making him aware of the warmth and closeness of your body. And then your hands touched his skin and he felt a shiver ran down his spine. He quickly stood up tripping over his legs as he ran away yelling that he was going to swim first and later he would join you sunbathing. In reality, he just needed to cool himself off and let his heart slow down from the quick beat your hands brought it to.

Ice cream 🍨🍦

Hajime Umemiya - Noticing the booth near the beach you didn't think twice before grabbing his hand and bringing him to get some ice cream. It was the perfect sweet dessert for the hot day and you read all the names of flavours thinking which one would be the best. After choosing your favourite you shared it with him and he decided to buy two cones, one for each of you. At least you thought so when he ordered them. When the stall booth employee gave it to him he didn't let you grab your ice cream as he brought it to your lips. It seemed like a sweet gesture and you licked the ice tasting the sweetness. You voiced your approval and before you leaned to get another bite it was gone from your sight just like he, who ran away while laughing merrily with both cones in his hands. You chased after him yelling his name and how he was a thief.

Hayato Suou - You brought the ice cream cone to your mouth licking the slowly melting dessert trying to keep it from dirtying your fingers. It was a hard task especially when the weather was so hot it melted even before you grabbed it from his hand. He watched carefully his cup of ice forgotten and only grabbed more tightly with each second his eyes were stuck on you. The ice finally got to you and started dripping down your fingers and you tried to lick it off while a small pout was visible on your face. You stopped your task despite your determination and turned to him to ask if he liked the sweet dessert only to be met with his eyes on you while his mouth was softly opened in arousal.

Uryu Sakaki - Both of you enjoyed the ice cream cups that you got all while sitting on the beach towel and enjoying the breeze of the sea. He hummed happily with each spoon that entered his mouth the whipped cream and sparkles making his mood even better. You yourself liked your dessert but his big smile made it taste even better. And when you noticed the ice cream at the corner of his mouth you chuckled softly getting his attention. You placed the cup by your leg as your now empty hands grabbed his chin and cheek and you leaned closer. Your lips touched the corner of his getting the cold treat and you pulled away while licking your lips. His eyes widened as his face got redder and not necessarily from the hot weather.

Kota Sako - With him, it seemed like a checkpoint, to get some sweet dessert anywhere you were. Somehow he had this 6th sense to pick the best place and the best food options. And so you found yourself with two pretty and tasty ice cream desserts in front of you. You ate yours praising him for his great choice and he smiled enjoying his. Then he picked the best flavours that he knew you'd like and scooped them on his spoon before extending it towards you. You let him feed you feeling warm as he leaned close to be more comfortable. You of course reciprocated and the both of you ate the desserts sharing them between you two.

Playing in water 🌊💦

Tasuku Tsubakino - You had your swimwear on. It was flattering on you and fit you perfectly. And you had to use it in the water. You looked at them, as they were lying there in the beach chair tanning. You huffed to yourself knowing it was already a few good minutes that the both of you spent not in the water, where you really wanted to be. You asked once more if they wanted to join you but as you received yet another no you begrudgingly entered the water alone. Your gaze moved to them as they turned to their stomach and away from you and you smirked as a plan developed in your mind. You quickly ran up to them and picked them up as they yelled at the cold water clinging to you and squirmed in your hold. You held them tightly to your chest and entered the water together while they squealed and when you let them down on their legs they had no mercy. They splashed you just like you wanted while yelling at you and laughing when you begged them to stop.

Taiga Tsugeura - He was the one to bring you to the water and encourage you to play with him as you splashed joyfully. Then he proposed to bring you on his shoulder and carry you. Soon you made it into a game with others to see who was the best. His hands tightly gripped at your legs as he maneuvered expertly making you the winner and taking part in pushing every opponent of yours into the water. In the end, in celebration, and with your acceptance he threw you back from his shoulders making sure you were alright, and grabbing at your waist as he helped you swim back above the water.

Teruomi Inugami - You were lying on the beach towel enjoying the sunshine unaware of what he was getting ready for. Somehow he got his hands on the water pump gun. How? You weren't sure he just got it and you got to know about it only when he ran up to you attacking you and spraying the water over you. You watched in relief as he avoided your bag and all the things you brought only wetting your swimsuit and the towel you were on as you grabbed it and tried to cover yourself from his attacks. His laughter filled the air and he jumped to sit near you when the water gun was empty. You grimaced at him but seeing his happy face a smile appeared on yours as well.

Swimsuit 👙 🩳

Kyotaro Sugishita - As soon as you came to the beach everyone started getting ready taking their clothes off or going to the changing rooms to put on their swimsuits. He was already dressed in one so he just started pulling out the beach mat for the both of you. His eyes caught the movement from your side and he stared with open mouth while you took off your clothes. Left in your chosen swimsuit he immediately stood up and put the Hawaiian shirt he had on around your shoulder to make sure others don't look at your body.

Haruka Sakura - Both of you decided to do some shopping for the beach trip Umemiya was organizing. Sakura was quick to pick some swimming trunks for himself while you had your hands full of colorful swimwear you wanted to try on. You made him wait for you and give opinions about which was the best choice. His face was red basically all the time as you showed off the swimsuits to him in the changing room. He was literally having the best and worst time of his life.

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reidology13 · 2 months ago

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we could make it better (breaking every habit)

Spencer Reid x fem ex-famous!reader

Summary: After Spencer overcomes his addiction, he seeks out the company and forgiveness of an old flame. cw: talk of addiction, a little sad? mostly fluffy though a/n: technically a part 2 of my fic based off making the bed by olivia rodrigo, but it can definitely be read as a oneshot. maybe they are a bit unhealthy, but they're cute and that's all that matters. also this was so incredibly delayed cause my phone drowned so I'm posting this from my dad's computer

Part 1

They say time heals all wounds, and standing at the door of his past mistake, Spencer hoped it had healed hers the way it had his. It had taken him too long to find her, for his pride to break down enough to ask Garcia to search for her. A few years ago it would have been all too easy, a few years ago she was on the cover of every magazine. Now she was the public's favourite conspiracy theory, the biggest where did she go? post made on some website full of self important nobodies.

Where did she go? A small house in a small town, a few hours from D.C, just close enough that Spencer had gotten in his car without a second thought the moment he had her address. Maybe it was a slight invasion of privacy, but Spencer had seen much more of her than the house she lived in.

As he lifted his fist to knock, doubt crept in for the first time since the beginning of his endeavour. Was he right to apologise, to show up at the doorstep of the person he hurt worse than anyone else in his life, and say sorry? Sorry. ‘Sorry’ was a puny word that could never hope to mean anything compared to what he had done, how he had used her. But it would have to do, because he had not come all that way to turn back at the flashing neon sign that said ‘CLOSURE’.

Knock, knock, knock. Was three knocks not enough? Knock. God four was too many and the last one had been so separate from the others it was clearly an afterthought that she would think was weird before she even knew it was him on the other side of-

“Spencer?” The door opened, just enough for her face to be visible through the small opening. She was so much more beautiful than he remembered, although he really didn’t remember much from back then.

“I’m sorry.” Well that was one way to get to the point. He smacked himself internally, scolding himself for being so stupid and inconsiderate, not even saying hello or asking her how she was doing.

“Do you wanna come in? You look like you need to sit down.” She pulled the door open, stepping back to let him in, and Spencer froze. She was allowing him into her home, her space, he who had squeezed her dry, used her up and tossed her aside when he didn’t need her anymore.

Unsure what else to do, Spencer found himself sitting on her couch, the awkward tension between them palpable as he sat silently in regret of every decision he had made in the last week.

“So,” She prompted, gesturing vaguely in his direction, “How are you?”

“Good, yeah, better. You?” He looked around the room, trying to find something that would tell him anything about her life, about her. She was a stranger, really, a stranger that used to be someone he knew. He wanted to know who she was then, on that day, in her house sitting across from him.

“I’m good too. You look better.” He knew what she meant – he didn’t look high out of his mind. The far wall of the room was covered in framed pictures of her and what he assumed were her family and friends. Some were from her childhood, some were taken in front of the very house he was sitting in.

What surprised Spencer were the photos, though few and far between, where he made an appearance. The Fourth of July party, a bright, sunny photo full of smiling faces. The poor quality of the picture did nothing to disguise the bags under his eyes, nor the dead look in hers. Her birthday, a photo of her blowing out the candles on her cake, blurred from his shaky grip on the camera.

“I don’t remember that one.” He pointed to a picture of the two of them, a dark photo that he nearly hadn’t recognised as himself. The ability to not remember had been his favourite thing back then, now the haze left him with a pit in his stomach.

“Makes sense, you were… you were bad. It was taken right near the end.”

“I am sorry, really.” Neither of them spoke after that, the silence a warm blanket rather than a thick smog. The apology wrapped around them in a warm embrace, they did not choke on it.

She moved first, after what felt like the most peaceful eternity, slipping her hand around his, holding it in the space between them. He looked down at their joined hands, his gaze slowly drifting up until it landed on the soft smile spread across her face.

“I missed you.” She squeezed his hand gently, although it felt like she squeezed his heart instead, “I missed you from the moment I met you. It’s nice to get you back.”

“I missed you too.” He didn’t know how to explain the way it had taken him a month to get sober enough that reality hit and he realised what he’d lost. At least, he didn’t know how to explain it without having to actually say something about his addiction. He’d always been good at avoiding the topic, skirting around it with suggestions and subtle confirmations. The word ‘addiction’ made him feel weak, like he’d been defeated. He’d talked about his problem once, in a room full of people who had been through the same thing, and even then he hadn’t been able to say it.

“You’re so strong, Spencer. You’ve come so far.” It was like she could read his mind, see every fear that haunted him and soothe it accordingly.

“So are you, I mean, you got out of everything.” His eyes dropped to his lap in shame of everything that he hadn’t noticed, all of the obvious signs of just how not okay she had been. All that she must have been going through, that he had been too far from reality to know existed, even when it was staring him in the face.

“You say that like you didn’t.” It was a simple sentiment, but maybe that was what hit him like a freight train. It wasn’t some mantra he’d heard hundreds of times, or a complicated conversation with his friends where they tried to talk to him without saying anything that actually mattered.

He got out of it.

“You’re perfect, you know that right?” The way he looked at her in that moment could only be described as reverential, she was the brightest star in a sky that he had never truly seen before.

“No I’m not.” The way she said it like a definite fact made Spencer’s heart start to crack, “Do you know why I have those pictures up?”

Spencer shook his head, “Tell me,” he said the words under his breath, as if they were surrounded by people in the empty room, “I’m not going to find you any less perfect.”

“Hope. I could never get the thought out of my head that you would come back.” She shook her head, gaze locked on the ground like she couldn’t bear to look at him as she spoke. “It was stupid, and then you actually did, and that’s stupid all over again.”

“You’re even more perfect than I thought.” Spencer laughed, tears pricking in the corners of his eyes, happy and sad and something he couldn’t put a name to. She was still holding his hand, he realised, and he used that information to interlace their fingers, placing their joined hands in his spare palm.

“I’m stupid and lucky, that’s what I am.” She snorted, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

“No, not stupid.” Spencer drew circles with his thumb on her palm as he spoke, “Lucky, maybe.”

“We’re gonna have to talk about this, us, you know that.”

“Eventually, yes. Not right now.”

“Not right now.” She confirmed, nodding slowly. They were both there, and that would have to be enough, at least for the moment.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #criminal minds fic #criminal minds one shot #criminal minds angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds spencer reid #criminal minds hurt/comfort #Spotify

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year ago

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[brief mentions of non-consensual touching]

I kinda wanna flesh out yan cheater and "cheater" reader more. Fuel up the angst. I'm thinking high school sweethearts who promised to be each other's first as they went off to college. Yan sees the whole thing with reader with another person and goes to a friend for comfort. The friend sees this as an opportunity to tear the two apart as Yan was previously going to join their band instead of a straight shot to college. A few drinks down they're kissing the first person who makes eye contact with them at the party, forgetting all about their woes and promises - and skipping town without closure or a proper goodbye to their lover.

Couple years down the line and they're now a big shot - carrying little resemblance of the person they once were. Shows sold out in every venue and a different fan on their lap every night. They all have some feature that reminds Yan of their former flame which they muddle over to the very day their paths cross again.

Their latest tour leads them to a familiar place. A town where nothing ever happened and everything stayed the same. They learn their ex is still working hard for their degree and takes night shifts at a nearby gas station. The tension is thick from the moment they walk in. They didn't even want to be there, but it was the only station in close proximity. What do you even say to someone who's caused so much heart break after all this time?

"That'll be 21.10... Cash or credit?"

That's it.... After everything you put them through. After all those nights they spent crying over you - and craving your warmth in their bed. The future that you pictured together. The life you dream of in each other's arms. You tarnished what little hope they had - and that's all you could say to them...

"A "how've you been?" would've been nice...."

"I have nothing to say to the person who abandoned me. Can't even say that much since you hardly remind me of them."

Really classy from the one who caused this mess in the first place.

"Don't act like you're free of any guilt in this... I saw you with them that day... You seemed a lot more cozy with that stranger than you ever did with me."

"Stranger, what are you...." Your eyes dart around the room as the gears in your head click. Pulling out your phone, you fight back tears as you show them a picture of that stranger. "Is this who you're talking about?...."

Please say no....

They scoff. "So you do know who I'm talking about. You still together or did you run off with someone else same as you did me?"

The sadness and pain just... vanishes. All these years, you thought you had been the problem. Made to many promises. Loved then too much or too little. From what it seemed like now - they were the one who never loved you enough.

"That's my cousin....."

They didn't hear you - they couldn't. Couldnt acknowledge that maybe...

"What?"

"That's my fucking cousin, asshole."

Everything they ever believed was the painstaking truth - was a only a cruel misunderstanding.

"We hadn't seen each other's since we were kids. Their mom had just died... I tried calling you when I got home, but you weren't there. Did you seriously think I cheated on you? And you just ran away?..."

"I....you...." Were their everything. When they saw you that night the pressure of every problem weighting down on them finally snapped. They couldn't think rationally at that time - if only if they'd put the faith in you they always prided themself in having.

"You coward...." You throw their change across the counter, adding issult to injury as you point for the door.

"Get out of my store. Get out of my life."

"Y/n, wait..please."

"I said... GET OUT!"

The foundation of their new self crumbles. After your alleged betrayal they rebuilt themselves from the ground up as an overconfident, self serving individual, but like everything else to this point - it was all a lie. There were always those days they wondered "what if". What if they had stayed. What if they had tried to fix what had broken in your relationship. Knowing the truth, those fantasies return with vengeance. The truth would've came sooner and the wounds to mend would have been lesser. You'd talk over the miscommunication and they'd apologize fully by taking you out to your favorite restaurant. You'd start school together the upcoming fall. You'd kiss and make love and enjoy fleeting youth as one. There'd always be rough patches, but in the end you always had each other.

That's how things should have been.

They spiral - crawling to the closest bar to relinquish their pain the only way they knew how beyond finding someone new to bed. The thought of sleeping with anyone that wasn't you made them nearly lose the alcohol poisoning their system. Had you been dating since then? Had you given yourself to someone? Did they make you feel loved and saved - just as they should've

By the end of the night they wound up too drunk to even stand on their own feet. The bartender asked for a number to call to have someone pick them up. They gave the only number they could remember after all these years - and intoxicated.

The drive to their hotel room is quiet. You had nothing to say while they had the world - but none of it was anything you wanted to hear. You just wanted this night to be over so you could go back to forgetting they ever existed.

You help them into their room and give them some water from the sink. Despite everything they've done, you didn't have the heart to leave them like they did you.

"Drink. You need to flush out your system. You'll probably have a headache in the morning, but that's none of my concern."

".....how many people have you slept with, Y/n?"

You place the cup on the nightstand. "This isn't the type of conversation we should have right now."

"Have you been with anyone - or are you still waiting for that special person? I've done a lot of shit I'm not proud of, but at least they've given me experience. I can make your first the best. I can make love to you better than anyone. I already know you better than they do...."

Their hands creep around your waist, hugging your midsection same as they use to on school nights when their parents forbade guests - and you crawled through their window anyway. They always held you like you meant the universe to them. You still do.

Their lips gloss over your exposed stomach as your shirt crawls upwards, heavy tears staining your skin. "Just one night. That's all I need to prove myself to you. We were made for each other. Let's forget about the past for one night and pick up where we left off. A promise is still a promise - even if it's broken.

Their fingers dip below your waistband. You immediately shove them off you and to the floor. "Are you fucking insane?! You can't forget something like what you put me through. I've been so afraid of connecting with anyone because I'm scared they'd just run off like you did. I'm finally becoming me again- and I won't let you take that back from me. Don't call me."

The door slams as you storm out - reverberations their sole companion in their misery. This is the same thing they did to you. They deserve to be alone, to suffer - but they can't. It'll kill them. They can't live without you...and soon enough you won't be to live without them. You're soulmates, meant to be. They have power now - influence. They can support you however you need-

And destory everything that gets in the way of your happy ending.

#yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere x reader #yandere blurb #yandere oc #yandere angst #yandere concept #yandere idea #Yandere cheater #yandere drabble

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nsharks · 1 year ago

Text

bleeding blue | apocalypse au

part thirteen —other parts

pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!reader words: 3k tags: death. blood. cannibalism mention. zombies of course. AFAB reader. single dad ghost. there will be sex but it isn't here yet. slow burn!!! enemies to lovers. summary: After losing your companions, you run into a skull-masked man and his daughter. They are your last hope for survival.

"Twix."

Blue says your name in a single exhale of relief. You didn't expect her to be awake. She sits with her legs outstretched by a barely-there fire as you enter the cabin, the busted door groaning shut behind you. Fatigue sinks you to the floor beside her. You're about to curl your numb hands within the long sleeves of your new jacket, but the burn on your fingers makes you wince from the friction.

“You're filthy." She reaches for your hand, gently inspecting the burn. "And someone hurt you."

"Well, technically, I hurt them."

Blue shakes her head, the tone of her voice hardening the moment she drops your hand. "You shouldn't have gone."

"It was important—"

"It was stupid. You saw how those guys tried to kill us!" She huffs out a breath before snapping her gaze back to the flames. "You... you didn't tell me you were leaving. You didn't even say goodbye. I just woke up and you were gone.”

"I didn't want to wake you this morning because you needed rest,” you reason.

"That's a shitty excuse," she grumbles back, gesturing to the pink bracelet on her wrist. "I may not have a lot of friends, but I do know they're supposed to tell each other things like this."

Your eyes trail down from the burnt skin on your fingers, red and bubbly, to the cheap, plastic beads encompassing your wrist.

"You're right," you speak softly. "I should have told you."

A few minutes lapse in thick silence. In the midst of it, you swallow a few chalky pills to help with all the pain. You've been conservative in using them so far, but with your additional score of medicine, you figure you can afford some relief. There's no way you'll be able to sleep with your bitten wrist throbbing incessantly.

You're about to lean against the wall and let your eyes flutter shut when Blue speaks again, this time her voice so quiet you wonder if you're imagining it.

"You know, I was excited to go on this trip," she whispers, still looking at the fire. "I even secretly hoped we'd run into other people, just because—" she pauses to swallow, "—because I never get to meet any. And the ones we have met, my dad always kills. Except for you."

She drags her sleeve over her face and it’s now you notice she is crying. A knot forms in your throat and, after the day you've had, you struggle to find the right words.

"He kills them for a reason," you settle on, voice equally hushed. "A lot of people are—"

"A threat, I know." Blue repeats the words like a bitter mantra, then looks at her bandaged leg. "What does it feel like?" she asks after a moment, sliding her glossy eyes to yours. “Killing a person. Ghost told me it feels just like killing an animal or a Grey."

You inhale, then fix your stare to the dark ceiling. "No— I don't think it feels the same. It's much worse. I still get sick from it,” you admit.

"How many have you killed?"

"I don't remember anymore, but not that many." Certainly not as many as Ghost has. "It was always in self-defense. Always because I had to."

"I wish nobody ever had to," she says.

"I know. Me, too.”

With a sigh, she carefully scoots closer to you. "I'm sorry for getting mad. I just want to go home.”

"Don't be sorry. I’m the one who is sorry." You shake your head and offer her a shoulder until both of you have your backs against the wall. Her hair tickles your cheek. A small hand slips around your waist in a tender embrace, her fingers latching onto the fabric of the jacket. The sore muscles of your core flex instinctively from the touch before you finally force yourself to relax. It’s just Blue.

"Your dad says we're going back tomorrow,” you whisper, jaw grazing the crown of her head. “Sleep. It'll be a long day again."

"A long day for you maybe," she murmurs against your shoulder. "I get to ride on his back."

"Lucky you." You drape the heavy blanket over your bodies. Together you are warmer, if only by a little.

Deft wind whooshes through the trees, kissing your wet skin. Splotches of wriggling orange and red follow the water's current, along with a trail of brown muck as you scrub your breasts, hair, and cheeks. The sight of fish makes your stomach grumble. It's been far too long since you've had anything but squirrel and deer and berries, but this is not the time or place to ponder a way to catch one. The blue wash of early morning lightens with each second that passes. You wring out your hair, rewrap your wrist, and put your clothes back on before carefully climbing up the slope, satisfied enough with your icy bath.

"Ready," you announce, blowing a white breath into your hands and rubbing them together. Ghost crouches down so Blue can teeter onto his back. The backpack full of ammo hugs his front. He appears exceptionally bulky with all the baggage, and yet, he makes it look effortless.

Together, you head towards the infamous bridge, if one could call it that. Silvery fog makes it hard to see more than ten meters ahead of you, but Ghost seems to have the area memorized. Your hands ball up in your pockets, feeling empty and useless. With no bow, you have to rely on Ghost to get you back. It's a weird thing. Though, you suppose if there's anyone you'd want to be stuck out here with, it would be him. His presence alone offers more safety than the measly knife around your ankle.

"Ghost, we should go behind her," Blue says when you reach the beam.

He steps aside to allow you on first. "Try not to go for a swim this time."

A flush of pink bites your cheeks, though you blame it on the cold. It's hard to believe just four days ago you slipped off this thing. With his hands preoccupied, Ghost can't hold onto your shoulders like before, but he lingers close behind and repeatedly orders you to keep your eyes on the bank.

Once you're all across, a calm quiet settles, a vast contrast to how talkative Blue was the first time around. It makes you absentmindedly pick the skin around your nails. By the time you reach the road, you've looked behind your shoulder at least ten times, half-expecting to spot a burnt face hiding among the trees. Squirrels prattle by. A starling calls above your head. But no people. You force your eyes onward and take a deep breath.

"So, uh, would you rather get mauled by a bear," you break the silence, stepping over a stray tire, "—or be struck by lightning?"

It takes a second for Blue to respond. "Oh. That's a good one. Do I have a gun while the bear attacks me?"

"No. No weapons. Just you and the bear."

"Then lightning." She pats Ghost's shoulder. "Could you take a bear?"

"On a good day, maybe," he answers.

"What about you, Twix?"

"No," you instantly scoff, kicking at a rock. "A bear would rip me apart. I would choose lightning because it'd be quick."

"Okay, I have one," Blue quips. "Would you rather be ripped in half, or fall off a tall building?"

"Ripped in half by what?" Ghost asks, tilting his head back.

"It doesn't matter." You can hear the roll of her eyes.

"It does matter. Might change my answer."

"Fall off a building," you interject. "The way down would suck, but I bet you don't feel a thing once you hit the ground."

"But you'd look like a dead bug," says Blue.

"I don't care what I look like. I'll be dead."

Ghost clears his throat. "My turn, then."

"No! You have to pick one," she exclaims.

"Building," he drawls. A shadow of movement passes to the right of you. You naturally flinch closer to them, but it's just a doe hunkering down tall weeds that reach out of the concrete. A chuff of breath leaves your lips as you look away, only to find Ghost staring at you. For a few seconds, his eyes flicker between you and the deer before he goes back to focusing straight ahead.

"Would you rather," he begins, "—chop off all your fingers, or take out your own eyes?"

"What do I use to take out my eyes?" Blue asks.

"Knife."

"I guess my eyes," she winces. "I mean, I'd rather get rid of two things than ten."

They both glance at you expectantly. A frigid gust of northern air takes hold of your hair, so you tuck the unruly strands behind your ears. "Uh, fingers," you decide after a moment. "I could probably live without them."

In the village, the air stinks enough for Ghost to come to a halt. Before, he was able to pass right through. This time, a group of fourteen or fifteen Greys seems to be trapped on the main street between a crumbled wall and a fallen telephone pole. He has to decide between expending ammo or time. It's not long before he nods to a small building and the three of you scale the rusted fire escape. From the safe distance of the roof, he takes out the Greys one by one with an accuracy that barely leaves a dent in the ample stockpile of cartridges. With the route cleared, he's saved at least an hour or two of precious daylight.

The fog lifts. The ambery sun tries to peek through the clouds, but the sky is bent on staying grey. By the time you are back, your blisters have blisters. Blue has fallen asleep, cheek smushed against the back of Ghost's neck. Relief, thick and palpable, tastes sweet on your tongue. The fence, the rabbit hutch, the much-cozier cabin; none of it is home to you, but still, it calls your name in a welcoming coo.

You have to aim Ghost's flashlight so he can unlock the gate. Blue stirs, but her eyes remain closed even when he pushes inside the cabin. It's shrouded in darkness. You prop the flashlight on the table as his boots scuffle against the floor.

He puts her to bed. As he does, you feel around for the sofa and nearly choke when your worn fingertips graze shabby fabric. Not icy water or solid wood or muddy ground, but something soft. You're about to sink into it, your bones desperate for the springy cushions, when he returns to the threshold of the hallway with an ugly, flannel sheet in his hands.

"Here."

It's hard to be certain if you thank him or not; your brain conjures up the words, but your voice doesn't seem to function quite right. One thing is certain: you accept the sheet, tuck it on with urgency, and then lay down, burying your face in the crook of the pillow and arm. You kick off your boots and let the darkness take you, swift and heavy. It could be a coma or death disguised as sleep, and you figure you'd still slip into it without fuss.

Those first days back are quiet. Blissfully uneventful. You sleep and sleep. In fact, you don't move from the couch except to relieve yourself and eat a little. Ghost and Blue don't seem to do much, either. Or maybe you just don't notice.

At one point, you wake up to a small stack of shirts beside the couch. All black. One long sleeve, the rest short. You change into one and continue sleeping.

At another point, Blue hovers above you with a whisper that draws out a groan from you. "Hey. Ghost is making me skin some rabbits. Apparently, it's the only chore I can't get out of. Do you want to help me?"

"I think I'm good." You stuff the pillow over your face to make your point.

"You've been sleeping for three days, you know."

"I could go for another three."

She takes the hint and staggers away. Walking now. You hear her right leg drag a little.

The sleep is good until it's not.

On the fifth night, you're no longer fatigued enough to keep the dreams squandered. They start as whispers. Hoarse and gritty. Then they get louder and louder, shouting your name until they are so loud it feels like someone is screaming in your ear. Different voices blend into an indecipherable cacophony. One screams in pain; another in anger. You feel someone's cold fingers take hold of your neck and are finally pried awake, flying up against the couch with fiery pants burning through your lungs. But all that's there is a dark room.

Sweat clings to every inch of you. It feels like everything is on fire, and all you want to do is cool down. You haven't bathed since the river. Catching your breath, you swing your legs down and quietly pad to the bathroom where you hope a little water is left. Luckily, in the glint of moonlight, you find a bucket used for washing hands and scoop some to your face. Then, you comb it through your sweat-laced hair.

You unwrap your wrist and brush your fingers over the bite. You dab some water on it. You can't see well, but you feel the constellation of congealed scabs beneath your fingertips. Scars. Wounds. Your nostrils flare as a you wonder if one day you'll be so covered in them you won't even look like yourself. It's a good thing there is not enough light to spot the reflection of your face in the mirror, because you're not thrilled to greet the one now on your brow.

On your way out of the bathroom, something solid and immobile blocks your path. You startle backward, sucking in air as you peer up at a masked face. Ghost. It's Ghost. You haven't spoken to him since getting back, and in this moment, you long for the ability to push past him, but his wide shoulders consume the narrow hall.

It's silly to think you can avoid him when you sleep in the same space now. The thing is— you have no idea what to think of him. Before, it was easy to settle on fear of how easily he could snap your neck, and annoyance for how he treated you. And then, when forced to, you could engage in a pragmatic conversation about how to keep yourselves alive.

But now, you don't know what you are supposed to feel around him, and you have spent zero time reflecting on it so far.

"Sorry. I was just, uh, washing my face."

"In the middle of the night?" he rasps, tilting his gaze down.

You teeter back a step, keeping a healthy bubble of space between your bodies. You're not sure why he hasn't just moved out of the way, or what he would be up and about for at this hour, but briefly, you wonder if he is suspicious of you. If after everything you went through, he still thinks you're trying to do something and might send you back to the shed. The three of you relieve yourself outside the cabin since the plumbing doesn't work, so it certainly does seem odd that you'd be in the bathroom during the night.

"I was sweating a lot." Inwardly, you curse at yourself. "I mean, I haven't bathed since we got back, and I..." You trail off in a whisper.

"And you what?"

"I don't know." You fiddle with the hem of the oversized shirt he gave you. "I'm not trying to kill you or your daughter in your sleep, though, if that's what you're thinking."

He simply stares at you. It feels like he can see right through you, and your eyes drop to your wool socks. Then, he murmurs, “I wasn't thinking that."

"Okay," you reply carefully. "Could you... please move, then?"

Finally, he steps out of the way, but you feel the burn of his eyes on your skin as you brush past him.

"Twix."

You pause, looking back. "Yes?"

A shake of his head. And then: "Take a proper bath tomorrow. You could use it.”

You bite the inside of your cheek. "Will do."

With that, you crawl back onto the couch.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #cod #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #zombie apocolypse au

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