#but something along those lines had to already be there for the bottle to bring it to the surface yanno??

[chilling-seavey]

Fantasy. Dream. Moment. (gr63)

↳ A/N Here we have it! The final blurb from my 1.5k celebration! Thank you all for submitting your song requests or questions...and thank you so much for being a part of my little corner of the internet! Now get ready for a perfect balance of spice and angst.

↳ Inspired By: 'Moment' by Victoria Monét

↳ Pairings: George Russell x Fem!Reader (NO use of y/n)

↳ Word Count: 970

↳ Warnings: NSFW undertones (no detailed description)

The shiny gold trophy that sat on the bedside table of the luxury hotel room housed a large number 1 along the base. George’s furrowed gaze focused on it, narrowing in on the meticulously carved curves of the sculpture glinting in the moonlight through the open curtains. It was the newest addition to his collection. His career was on the rise. His life, in every other aspect, felt like it was slipping through his fingers.

In moments like that, after the high of a win, the only thing to do was try to keep that feeling going for as long as possible. Usually a party, a club, never ending bottles of champagne and music loud enough to make ears ring. Instead, the silent hotel room George found himself back in housed only the faint creak of the king size bed. Hazy and elated, his body was flushed with heat that burned right down to the tips of his fingers, pressing indentations into your bare hips.

He didn’t speak; too focused on the pleasure of your body and the physical ecstasy that swirled around in his mind. This was his reward. He didn’t need anything else. Your sweet moans were a gift enough, bringing him right into the moment where time felt infinite and euphoria was tangible. That sweet, sweet high lingering in his bloodstream.

You spoke filthy words to him through the duvet clutched in your hands; words he didn’t register as his one-track mind had him all too focused on getting another finish that night. That was all he wanted. His eyes flicked back to his trophy still stained in champagne from the podium celebration: a reminder of the rise and fall of his aspirations. A win followed by the expected emptiness of loss. He was desperate to take control into his own hands.

Looking down at you bent over for him, his large hands gripped tighter to your waist, kneading the flesh of your hips as he yanked you into his rough motions. He counted himself down in his head, one count per stroke, just like the laps he had completed only hours earlier. One at a time. Fast and surely.

The fireworks that had burst across the inky sky above the night-kissed circuit upon completion of the grand prix were nothing compared to those that shone in George’s eyes. He pulled out quickly, letting his hand do the rest as lewd streaks of white landed up your back. They looked like the crisp white painted lines that framed the track he just drove. Two of his fingertips pushed up your spine between the mess like he was navigating the circuit again, gliding over the bumps of your vertebrae for a moment before sitting back on his haunches with a sigh. His eyes locked on his trophy again.

You adjusted yourself to be propped up on your forearms to look over your shoulder at him.

“You good?” you asked.

Your voice startled him slightly, as if he had already forgotten you were there. He cleared his throat and moved to lay beside you, draping an arm across his sweaty forehead, “Yeah. Good.”

Running your hand over his bare chest that was flushed with euphoria, you kept your eyes on his face for a moment as if waiting for him to say something else. When he didn’t, you patted your hand against his warm skin once and said, “I’m gonna find a towel.”

He didn’t even offer a nod, watching you get up from the bed and walk, naked, into the bathroom around the corner. The light was switched on and streaked across the carpet into the bedroom. George lolled his head to the side to look out the floor to ceiling windows of yet another luxury hotel, trying to steady the racing of his heart. He let out a breath and ruffled a hand through his hair to tame it a little, his mind going a mile a minute.

He kept glancing over to the bathroom to see when you’d return. He already felt lonely and cold.

Finally, when you walked back into the room after cleaning yourself up, you bent down to grab your underwear from the floor and started to put it on. George watched you and propped himself up on his elbows for a better view, trying to figure out how to say what he wanted to say without sounding like a complete idiot.

“Can you…stay the night?” he finally spoke.

Your eyes rose to his, expression unreadable but still polite, as you did your bra back up, “You only paid for two hours.”

“I’ll pay more.” he replied quickly. Almost embarrassingly quickly.

You chuckled warmly, retrieving your shirt, your pants, “I can’t.”

“Please.”

“I have the right to refuse.” you reminded him firmly, yet kind, giving him a glance as you buttoned your pants up and pulled on your blouse.

George bit the inside of his cheek, staring at you. He didn’t argue.

Once you were dressed and your purse was over your shoulder, you inquired, “The money?”

He gestured to the dresser where his wallet and phone had been tossed earlier in the night before dropping flat onto the bed again and raking his fingers through his hair. You helped yourself to the luxury leather wallet and pulled out a few bills, counting to make sure you got your payment, and then tucked them away in your purse.

When you turned back to him, his face was in his hands.

“Congratulations again.” you called out to him from across the spacious hotel room as you slipped on your heels, “You’re really living the dream.”

George didn’t answer and he didn’t watch you leave. With the click of the door behind you, he was left entirely alone once again. Just him and his trophy.

"Take away your pain, give me all of your emotions Land it like a plane on my back if you can't hold it Life is but a dream that you manifested slowly So fuck a fantasy, this your motherfuckin' moment"

#george russell x reader #george russell imagine #george russell fanfic #george russell fluff #george russell #gr63 #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x female reader #f1 x oc #f1 imagine #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fluff #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x female reader #formula 1 x oc #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 one shot #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 dark #f1 dark #f1 dark fic #george russell smut #f1 smut #formula 1 smut

[razzle-zazzle]

How do you feel about the deleted distilled Emotions voice lines from PN2? Also do you think they should have kept it in and even added more?

I feel like it was a very fun concept, and I like how the lines we've found helps to expand the characters a bit!

However, I can see why they didn't add it, and I think that they were probably right not to—it goes against one of the major themes of Hollis' level, which is lowkey one of the major themes of the game: the Psychonauts don't fix people, they give people the strength and skills they need to fight their own battles. Hollis' Hotstreak is all about how going into someone's mind and messing around is a Bad Idea, and toying with someone's emotions with the bottles lowkey goes against that.

#ask zaz #psychonauts 2 #and like. i feel like the bottles could still exist inuniverse/be utilized in fanworks really well!! #but in the game itself the mechanic would have undermined one of the core themes #i need you to know that i think about dion's deleted lines so fucking much #''i was just scared and jealous of the changes you're going through'' #JEALOUS?? #JEALOUS????? #shaking him #like yeah i know these lines are said under the influence of the bottled emotions #and should be taken with a grain of salt/don't define the character #but something along those lines had to already be there for the bottle to bring it to the surface yanno?? #so even if dion views his sadness line about the family falling apart as an irrational fear #even if he knows that they're still a family deep down #it's still something he's felt at one point or another

[hybridirl]

who first?

18+ only, please!

ellie x f!loser!reader x abby

a/n: sorry for the long wait! i was with my family the past week celebrating a holiday :)!! now i’m back and i’m gonna try and pump out a few. i am in fact working on the ellie x loser!reader pt2, so pls bear with me! i’m still thinking up ideas. this shit is harddd

brief summary: ellie and abby are the bestest of friends, and you’re… there. they kinda feel bad for you, so they bring home some of the “good shit” for a game. never have i ever? with shots. reversed. haven’t done it? drink!!!

tw / AU, *DUBCON* (reader is drunk (but so is ellie and abby)), strap-on, use of y/n, cunnilingus (r and e receiving), tit-slapping, porn no plot, rushed sex, threesome, reader gets referred to as “girl”

ᡣ𐭩

watching tiktoks for hours on end was never your proudest pastime, especially when your two roommates were constantly out partying. you, honestly, were a third wheel. well, to be fair, you came into this friendship way after these two had already been established as this inseparable duo. still, being a friend - even if it’s not as deep - doesn’t mean you should be excluded from their little activities.

so, this is how your night has gone so far: moping around, trying to bake some cookies you found on tiktok, and binging tiktok. you sat on the island of the kitchen, a frown plastered on your face as you munched on your fifth cookie.

you glanced at the clock: 11:35 PM. you knew exactly what this meant; one of them is slutting themselves out while the other waits to drive themselves home. god, how it aggravated you! - how easily they could get into someone’s pants by just looking at them while you had to ease your way into it. that slow, smooth talking you, except it rarely ever worked and you came off as a creep. the pickup lines from reddit don’t seem to work in reality, huh?

pulling yourself off the counter and shoving the last piece of cookie into your mouth, you wondered why you stayed up until they came back. maybe you were just a little afraid to go to sleep alone, maybe you were just simply lonely. you wanted them to come home, tell you about their day and get envious at their friendship that you weren’t in on and that you didn’t have. poor you. you were like a watchdog, always staying up and looking out until your ‘owners’ came along, praising you for your good work so you could get your little dopamine rush. you even whimpered, just a little, as you sat on the couch to watch some cheesy drama movie that you had zero interest in. about thirty minutes in, the door opens. you turn your head and watch your two acquaintances walk in, both holding a suspiciously shaped brown bag.

“hey,” you greet, “what’re those?” you pointed toward the bags in their hands.

“just stuff for you,” ellie chirped first, setting the bag on the coffee table.

“us, she means,” abby cut in, setting hers down. you watched as they revealed what was shielded from her viewing: two tall bottles of ‘devil’s spring vodka.’

you cocked your head to the side and spoke, “for us? what for?” they gave you a ‘what do you think?’ look before ellie headed off to get three shot glasses. she placed one in front of you, abby, and herself.

“so, y/n,” abby began, popping the top and pouring some into each glass. “we know you’re lonely and we thought we’d do something for you, huh? sound good?” you pursed your lips and nodded, completely weirded out by this interaction.

“we’re gonna play a game,” ellie said, circling her glass with her hands. “it’s like ‘never have i ever.’ ever played?” you nodded. “good. so, each time someone says something you haven’t done, you take a shot. got it?” you nod again. “a—lright, you guys ready?” abby smiles and raises her hand.

“i’ll go first,” she told, an obvious mischievous glint in her eye, “let’s start of tame. so, y/n, have you ever… kissed someone in public? i’m not talking a little peck, i’m talking seriously making out.” your face heated, and your jaw dropped just slightly. you thought about lying, of course, just to seem cool, but, you knew they’d know.

“i-i… no, i haven’t,” you muttered out, shakily reaching your hand toward your glass. you took a sip, wincing at the burn in your throat.

“c’mon, y/n, the whole thing,” ellie chuckled at your ministrations. you whimpered silently before your head tilted back, gulping the rest down.

“ugh,” you groaned as you set it down and watched as ellie pour more into your glass. you had a feeling this was going to be a long night.

“okay, my turn,” ellie giggled, looking at the two of you. “okay, y/n, have you ever… had someone motorboat you?” your brows furrowed immediately.

“m-motorboat? i, well, um… no.”

“drink up then, girl.” they watched as you took another brave shot, your face contorting into what looked like pain, and, to be fair, it was painful.

you were about to speak, for your turn, but abby interrupted quickly, barely even noticing your open mouth, “my turn, huh?” abby questioned. your jaw shut right back up, letting her take the lead. letting her do her thing. “so, y/n, ever, i don’t know, let’s get a little crazier with this one, yeah? ever been in a threesome?”

you stared at abby with wide eyes, why are they asking you this stuff? why only you?

“no…” you whispered, continuing your stare on her as you went to take yet another shot. you were already starting to feel a buzz, already starting to feel the heat in your tummy. with a slightly clouded head, you turned to ellie. she was smirking, her eyes knowing as her lips parted once more.

“how about you give it a go?” ellie asked you, and you felt some relief.

“h-have you guys ever, um… have you guys ever… had a threesome?” you asked in a low voice. you watched abby roll her eyes and go to grab her glass, as with ellie.

“o—kay, my turn,” ellie clasped her hands together, after setting her glass back down, “ever taken it up the ass, y/n?”

“why are you only asking me?” you gawked, reaching for your glass. you took the next shot, and felt a sudden need for more.

“because we already know what we’ve did,” abby replied, another shot of the vodka slithering down her throat. “mm, that’s some good shit. so, y/n, have you ever topped?” you sighed as you reached for the glass once more. “oh, so you’re a bottom? figures. i mean, look at you.” you looked up at her, slightly offended whilst your hands went to pour yourself another shot.

“have you guys ever, uh, had public… sex?” you found yourself boldly asking, obvious that this drink was getting to you. they both raised their glasses to their lips.

this went on and on, mostly them asking you, you sometimes asking them until you were all drunk out of your minds.

“y/n,” ellie finally groaned and she scooted closer to you. you hadn’t realized the proximity of them both, slowly decreasing as the night went on. you hummed a response, your eyes half closed and your face hot. “h’ve you ever, uh, fantasized? about us?” ellie asked, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. your hand didn’t reach for the glass, rather you simply stared into those green eyes. “yeah? you have? why didn’t you tell us? we coulda’ made all of your dreams come true, sweetheart,” she whispered, her hand meeting your waist.

“i-i was n-nervous,” you whined, “didn’ wanna say anythin’…”

“y/n, baby,” abby purred into your ear, “you don’ gotta be nervous ‘round us.” your head throbbed as you bit your lip; their hands explored your body, slowly molding you into your arousal. you wondered if this was their plan all along as their fingers danced around your PJs, caressing your inner thighs…

“please,” you whispered and their eyes flickered toward you. “…t-touch me…” you sighed blissfully as ellie’s hand finally met with your pajama-clad vulva. abby’s head dipped into the crook of your neck; she kissed up your neck and throat, then tilted your head toward hers to kiss your lips. sloppily, her tongue slipped into your mouth, prodding and massaging your tongue. your own mingled with hers, dancing around each other’s. you barely noticed your bottoms being tugged down, only realizing once the chill of the air hit your heat.

“lemme taste ‘er first,” abby said quickly as she pulled away from your swollen lips.

“no,” ellie whined, tugging your body toward hers.

“it was my idea,” she growled in return, “now let me have her first.” ellie huffed, but let go. she took asylum in your breasts; lifting your shirt up, she immediately dove into your mounds. she licked up to your nipple, taking it between her lips. you let out a broken moan as she nibbled on your sensitive bud, her tongue swirling around your pebbling nipples.

abby slid your legs open with her hands, spreading your labia with her thumb.

“how long h’ve you been this wet, y/n?” an obvious rhetorical question. you were too occupied with ellie and the worship of your breasts.

“a’w-while,” you managed to croak, though. you heard her chuckle and felt your body being tugged toward her more. “mmf, abby, be gentle…” ellie watched as abby’s head dipped between your legs, then her eyes flickered to your face to watch it contort in pleasurable expressions. “abby… ngh…” your hand reached to tug at her blonde hair, earning a groan from her lips.

“i heard she’s a p-pro,” ellie whispered to you while she tugged off her bottoms. your eyes fluttered, staring dazed at the sight of her pussy.

“want,” you purred out. ellie only smirked at you, her hands moving in to shove you down onto the couch. her legs straddled your head and she lowered herself onto you without warning, virtually smothering you. “mmf!” your brows were furrowed, your nose smooshed against her wet cunt. she ground her hips into your face, covering it in her slick.

“c’mon, y/n, thought you wanted it.” your doe eyes kept gazing up at her and you began to do the best you could with her weight in your face, your tongue working hard against her swollen clit.

both of the feelings were intoxicating, abby at your pussy, you at ellie’s. your legs tightened around abby’s head as her fingers found your g-spot, thrusting her fingers in and out of you. you moan into ellie, slurping at the nectar leaking from her. you’re so intoxicated, you can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol or this delicious feeling. your hands gripped ellie’s sides and you pulled her closer. you were whimpering, moaning, abby’s tongue wriggling into you, her fingernails digging into your plush thighs.

“mmm!” you cried, your eyes shutting as you felt a knot in your stomach begin to uncoil, your juices coating abby’s tongue and face.

“ahn, yeah,” abby groaned. “righ’ on my tongue, sweethear’.” your eyes were rolling, face scrunched in pleasure. it was a sure sight for ellie, drawing - no, forcing ellie’s own climax to follow suit. her arousal painted you, creaming on your face as she held your head close to her.

“oh, god, please please please — fuck!”

she ground against you, riding her orgasm out in your face. her clit bumped your nose, and your hands gripped her hips, slowly guiding her to a halt as she came down. as she got up from you, she took a moment to admire her work. your face looked so exhausted, wet with her, and needy for more.

“abby,” ellie said, “g-go get the…” she gestured into the direction of the bedrooms, then abby knew what she was talking about. she made her way into one the bedrooms, who knows which, and rummaged through. you watched the hallway curiously, ready for her arrival. you tried to sit up, but ellie only grabbed you, laying you down on her thighs. when abby came out, you were surprised to find her pant-less, and with a harness strapped to her person, not to mention a dildo hanging from it. she approached, slow and cautious steps. you couldn’t tell if she was trying to tease you or try to get you into the idea.

“you wan’ it?” she asked you, slowly crawling into the sofa, then nudging and prodding your wetness with the head.

“wan’ it.”

“alrigh’, sweet girl,” she breathed, easing the head into your slippery entrance. “good?” you nodded your head, egging her on silently.

“abby,” you moaned breathlessly. she shushed you, halting her movements so you could get used to her. she ran her rough hands down your sides, down, down, to your clit, gently rubbing it to make you feel some sort of goodness as she stood still. “move, please,” you whimpered.

“y/n, you should see ‘yer face right now,” ellie giggled, caressing the side of your head. “god, y’so pretty. fuck ‘er, abby, hurry. look at ‘er face.” abby rolled her eyes, not usually taking commands. she was going to anyway, but…

“oh!” you gasped from her sudden movements, a tight snap from her hips. “f-fuck!”

“mmm, ‘n moans so pretty,” ellie praised, “didn’ get to hear ‘ya so well when you were under me. gettin’ smothered by my pussy... mhm…” she caressed your face again, cupping your cheeks as abby began to pound you.

“abby!” you cried to her, eyes shut tight, hands flailing to find somewhere to rest. they found abby’s biceps, gripping them tightly as she slapped her hips against yours. “please, ngh!” you grit your teeth, jaw clenched while pleasure overtook you.

“eyes open,” abby growled, “‘n on me.” you had to fight yourself to open your eyes, but the sight in front of you was perfect. abby’s blonde hair sticking to her forehead, her braid dangling and swinging with each thrust, her slack jaw, fuck. “yeah, ‘atta girl.” she was thrusting just right, obviously so experienced. it was pleasing her, too, the strap hitting just right at her swollen clit.

how badly you wanted to touch her body, worship her like you did quietly with her eyes. she was like a greek god, muscular and sculpted so perfectly. especially now, sweat marbling her skin and her chiseled body over yours. you almost forgot ellie was there, being as (almost) quiet as she was. glancing up, you caught sight of her, her fingers buried into her cunt. the sight alone was enough to make you cum once more, but you couldn’t, not so early. you looked back up at the deity above you who was staring into your eyes.

“abby,” you groaned. you threw your head back, going dumb on her cock. “right there… f-please…” cross-eyed, you sobered up a little as you felt a harsh pain on your breasts. “oh!” you gasped, feeling her large hand slap your chest. “abby!”

“take my cock, girl,” abby panted, hands squeezing your breasts, using them as leverage as she continued her pounding.

“fu—ck,” ellie groaned to the sight of you and to the noise of her fingers in her cunt, squelching, obscene, and loud. “y’doing so good, y/n… yes… uhn!”

you ran your hand up abby’s biceps, wrapping your arms around her neck. this prompted her to lean in and kiss your lips, deep and hungry. your hand cupped her cheek, pulling her close while your lips collided. abby pulled away first to admire your body and you took this moment to lift your arms above your head, desperately trying to pull ellie closer by her legs. she scoot closer and you cocked your head to the side, immediately licking at her cunt.

“yeah,” abby moaned, feeling the beginnings of her orgasm. “lick ‘er fuckin’ pussy.” she gripped your waist, hurriedly thrusting into you, her clot bumping against the harness. “fuck, i’m cumming!” she moaned, collapsing onto you as she came. she kissed at your neck, bit at it, too, while she continued to thrust, needing you to cum, too. her fingers finding your clit, furiously rubbing it.

you couldn’t help it anymore; biting into ellie’s thigh, you came. squirted, actually. all over her cock, all over her abdomen. your body was convulsing, shaking and twitching for her. ellie followed in suit, your teeth pushing her over the edge as they sunk deeper into her. all three of you were moaning, crying, holding each other tight.

“fuck,” you were the first to say. abby slowly pulled out of you, panting deeply.

“you squirted,” abby chuckled with admiration. she squeezed your thighs and glanced up at ellie, “all good?” she asked. ellie nodded.

“yeah, just,” she sighed blissfully, “fuck. we should do this again.” you giggled and kissed ellie’s thigh.

“mhm,” you agreed.

maybe your (sex?) life has just changed for the better.

#hybridirl .𖥔 ݁ ˖ #lesbian #bisexual #abby anderson x reader smut #ellie williams x reader smut #abbyanderson #ellie williams #tlou smut #tlou2 #tlou2 x reader smut #abby x reader smut #ellie x reader smut #abby x reader #ellie x reader #tlou x reader #tlou x reader smut #the last of us smut #the last of us x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #ellie #ellie tlou x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader x abby #abby x reader x ellie #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams smut #abby anderson smut

[colonelarr0w]

Can you write one where Astarion realizes that Tav is acting strangely because it's actually Orin and the actual Tav is kidnapped by her?? Thank you so much and I love your work!!

A/N - Oh my god I absolutely adore the trope of kidnapped lover being rescued (the parasites in me crave the angst). I hope you like this, I had a lot of fun writing it! So thank you @fanficlov-3-r <3

I Know You

Preview - "And he knew that the others knew that little fact as well, considering that Shadowheart had already whispered to the others something along the lines of, '(Y/N) isn't amongst us.'"

Warning(s) - mature themes, foul language, canon BG3 violence

Word Count - 3.9k

Astarion prided himself on his ability to have memorized everything about you, from how your nose scrunched when you saw something you disliked to how your eyes sparkled when you noticed him staring at you from across the fire. It was those little things that simply made you … well … you. 

Which was why he found it very offputting when he noticed your excessive alcohol intake while attending a Tiefling party. Yes, you liked to indulge in a glass of wine or two while you chatted happily with Astarion or any of your other companions – but never had he seen you cradle an entire bottle of wine to yourself and drink it in its entirety. 

But that behavior was only one of multiple that he had noticed throughout the night; you were dancing with any Tiefling who offered their hand, you seemed to stray away from him and the others throughout the night, and the smile you wore did not reach your eyes in the slightest. It seemed fake, similar to the smiles that Astarion had once flashed at you to get your clothes off. 

“Is it just me or does (Y/N) seem a little … off?” Shadowheart comments, her eyebrow raising as she watches you indulge another Tiefling in a drunken dance. You stumble over both your feet and his own, a detail that both she and Astarion narrow their eyes at. 

For an oh-so-grateful leader, you were being careless tonight. 

Astarion’s eyes follow those of Shadowheart’s, landing on you just as you are finishing a dance with your fifth Tiefling of the night. He bows to you shakily, and in return, you curtsy – another move that Astarion had never thought he would see you perform. 

“I must say that I agree with Shadowheart. Excuse me for a moment,” Astarion abandons his half-empty wine glass, sliding it across the bar. The bartender raises a brow at Astarion, but says nothing. 

You chuckle heartily as a Tiefling female approaches you, in her hands a sparkling glass of champagne. You take it from her the moment it’s offered, just about to bring it to your lips before a pale hand clasps over your shoulder. 

“Ah-ah darling, I think that’s enough with the drinking for one night,” Astarion says with a fanged smile, angling himself so that he’s able to pluck the champagne glass from your hands quickly. You turn to him, eyebrows pinched together in an expression that mixes frustration and shock – as if you had been caught doing something that you shouldn’t. 

“Come off Astarion, I can indulge if I so choose,” you retort quickly, fingers extending towards your glass. Astarion lifts his arm, the glass just barely out of your reach. “You are indulging tonight, are you not?”

He chuckles, his chest rumbling against your shoulder as his scarlet eyes rake over your figure. Something was wrong, it wasn’t just your general composure – it was everything down to the very way that you stood on your own two feet. 

“While that is true, I am watching what I indulge in,” Astarion says, already glancing at Shadowheart, who nods knowingly. She mumbles something inaudibly then to Gale, and soon a secret message is relayed over all of your companions. 

The Tiefling female had long since left your side, only adding to your annoyance that Astarion had come to your side. You turn sharply to face him, eyes narrowing at him. 

“And just explain to me why you thought it necessary to disrupt my fun?” you snap, glaring daggers into the vampire who stands in front of you. Astarion merely sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. His eyes flicker over you again, and it is in that moment that he realizes something … you were most certainly not you. 

And he knew that the others knew that little fact as well, considering that Shadowheart had already whispered to the others something along the lines of, “(Y/N) isn’t amongst us.” 

“Because I know you (Y/N), and right now,” Astarion pauses only to yank you closer, lowering his lips to your ear. “You are not who you say that you are.”

You freeze in his arms, eyes flickering to look at him. The crease in your eyebrows vanishes, your expression of frustration replaced now by one of shock. “What are you on about?”

“Oh come on now, don’t play dumb with me,” Astarion growls, his grip over your wrist tightening, “I know (Y/N), and she would never indulge in such things of her own accord.”

You swallow the growing lump in your throat, not protesting as a very angered Astarion drags you out of the Tiefling party. He is quickly flanked by Shadowheart and the others, none of whom offer you looks of sympathy – if anything, they look just as angered as the vampire in front of you. 

The moment that your feet touch camp, your wrists and ankles are promptly tied by Karlach, who offers you no answers even as you demand to know what in the hells is going on. Astarion stands quietly at her side, his arms folded over his chest whilst his mind promptly races.

Where were you? Who was sitting in your place? Where the hells were you?

With a singular wave of his hand over your body, Gale reveals Orin to the others, then steps back and glares down his nose at her. In response, her lips only turn upward in a grin, one that sends a shiver down the spines of those that surround her. 

“Where is–”

“Oh please, save me the dramatics,” Orin says with a roll of her eyes, adjusting herself so that she sits comfortably. Her attention moves to Astarion, her smile widening at the sight of the expression that he wears. 

“You have five minutes to answer our questions before–”

Orin’s head tilts in Lae’zel’s direction, her eyes crinkling as her smile widens impossibly further. Her lips part, a delighted chuckle falling from her lips. “Before what? You kill me? If I die, (Y/N)’s location dies with me.”

In a flash of white and silver, the blade of a dagger is pressed against the skin of Orin’s neck, pressed down just hard enough to draw a thin line of blood. Astarion kneels in front of Orin, narrowed eyes glaring daggers into her as his lips pull back in an angered growl. 

“You will reveal (Y/N)’s location lest you want to end up a paled mess on the ground.” He was shocked by how much your disappearance had affected him – especially considering that he was supposed to be keeping his affection for you a secret from the others. 

There was a reason behind his secrecy, however, a reason that you had agreed with when he had first proposed the idea to you. It was for your safety, for your protection. But it seemed like even with that … he still couldn’t keep the one thing that kept him sane safe. 

Orin chuckles, leaning forward so that her nose just barely grazes his own. He can feel her breath as it fans over his face – it disgusts him. 

“Is that so?” Her head tilts, another delighted chuckle bubbling up her throat and spilling over her lips. Astarion pushes the blade further against her, ignoring the yells of warning delivered by the other members of the party. 

His eyes narrow, his eyebrows pinch together, and his expression hardens. Orin only chuckles again, sighing dreamily in a way that reminds Astarion of a hopelessly lovesick girl. Gods, what he would give to plunge the blade of his dagger into her neck. 

“Fine, but I hope you know I’m not yielding because of your … intimidation,” Orin murmurs, pouting childishly as Astarion pulls her to her feet, still glaring at her. He says nothing as he drags her past the others, not checking over his shoulder to see that the others have followed him.

< … >

Another chilled shiver runs up the length of your spine, using your vertebrae as a ladder. You turn uncomfortably onto your side, trying once again to tug your ankles from their shackles. All you’re met with is the sound of rattling metal. 

It had been a few hours … or perhaps even a few days since you last saw the others. You didn’t know – perhaps time worked differently when you were captured. 

The last you remembered, you were walking silently along a forest pathway with Astarion a few feet behind you. You were engrossed in the beauty of the willow trees that hung silently over you, their branches serving you the beautiful luxury of shade that covered you from the sun’s blaring rays. 

Just as you turned a corner in the forest, a cold hand that wasn’t Astarion’s clasped over your own, tugging you away into a forest patch. One good knock to the side of the head … and that was the last that you were able to clearly remember. 

When you awoke, your ankles were shackled to a wall and your wrists were bound with rope, rubbing uncomfortably against your skin and leaving behind angry red marks. 

Your body had been littered with marks; cuts, bruises, and gashes. At first, they hadn’t hurt you at all – but you blamed that entirely on your adrenaline. Now every cut burned, every bruise ached, and every gash felt as though it would never stop bleeding. 

Surely every vampiric creature within a 50-mile radius could smell your blood … especially considering how much of it lay in a disgusting puddle surrounding your body. 

A shaky breath escapes you, one that you surely hoped would be your last. Your teary eyes flicker around the cell that you’d been thrown into; the cell that lacked even so much as a window. You were completely disconnected from the outside world, and for a singular moment, you thought that maybe you had died. 

And maybe you were okay with that now … with dying. 

Even though for so long you had tried your hardest to protect everyone – practically throwing your life down on the line for the lives of your companions – being captured was making you realize something. 

Maybe they didn’t care about you nearly as much as you cared about them.

If they cared, they would be searching for you. If they cared, you wouldn’t be bleeding out in some dank old cell with no way to know what time of day it was. If they cared … they would prove it, wouldn’t they?

A choked sob claws its way up your throat, legs curling inward. You wrap your arms around them, hugging them against your chest as your body curls inward into a fetal position. 

They didn’t care. Not Gale, not Karlach, not Lae’zel, not Shadowheart. 

Not even Astarion.

Astarion …

After everything that you had done for him. You had spared him that morning while walking with Shadowheart. You had let him stay in your camp even though he spat venomous insults each time you interacted politely with him. Hells, you had even let the damn man feed on you. 

In exchange for your blood, he was letting you rot alone in a cell. 

So much for helping others, you think quietly to yourself, tears slipping down your cheeks as your lashes flutter shut. A gentle numbness spreads over you as if someone had draped a blanket over you. It felt nice. It felt safe. 

Your shoulders relax, your lips part. 

One gentle breath falls from your lips before all goes silent.

< … >

“Come on now, I’ve led you right to where she is! The least you can do is entertain a conversation,” Orin complains loudly, huffing childishly as Astarion continues shoving her forward. 

There was no lie to her words, she had led Astarion and the others to where she had thrown you – a dimly lit dungeon hallway that was only filled with the sounds of low groans and dripping water, but even those had become scarce the longer that they walked. 

“The only thing I’ll entertain is your demise,” Astarion bites out, though he desperately wishes that he had kept his mouth shut. Orin doesn’t fail to catch the tremble in his voice – the vulnerability that seeps from his words. 

Her lips curl, another delighted chuckle rumbling somewhere deep inside of her chest. Her eyes flicker to catch a glimpse of Astarion’s profile, her chuckle deepening as she notices the emotional turmoil sketched into his features. 

“I wonder what you will do to me when you realize that she’s–”

“Hush,” Astarion hisses, reaching down and yanking the bonds around Orin’s wrist. The rub of the rope against her skin is enough to silence her. “Not another word out of you, wench.”

Orin stifles the small whimper of pain that had threatened to fall from her lips, instead turning to the cell that they were nearing; your cell. 

At the sight of the metal bars and uneven stones, she giggles. Astarion passes her off to Shadowheart, ignoring the cleric’s protests as he approaches the cell. 

“Oh shit.”

The world seems to go completely silent at the sight that lies before Astarion’s eyes, a sight that he immediately wishes that he could forget. 

You lay on your side with your back facing the cell’s door, blood – your blood – surrounding you in a crimson puddle. The bits of skin that Astarion can see are littered with cuts and bruises, your legs covered in gashes that continue to drip with fresh blood. 

In any other situation, Astarion would have marveled at both the sight and smell of your blood … perhaps even allowed himself to indulge in it. 

But now?

Gods, he had never been more disgusted by any one sight or smell. 

“Astarion? What’s – oh my Gods,” Karlach raises a hand to her mouth, palm covering her lips as she gazes upon the same sight as Astarion. The others join her, and each of them falls silent. “You take … her … and get out of here.”

Shadowheart nods, shooting Orin a sharpened glare before tugging the shapeshifter back down the way that they had come, ignoring her yells of protests and the way that she struggles against the ropes that bind her wrists together. 

With one tug at the already worn-down metal, Karlach disconnects the bars of the cell. She steps inside, carefully approaching you before copying her previous actions and removing the shackles from around your ankles. 

“(Y/N)?” she murmurs down to you, lightly shaking your shoulder while simultaneously trying to be sure that she does not burn you – the last she wants is to add to your injuries. 

She’s pushed aside by Astarion, who kneels beside you and feels his breath hitch at the sight of your paled face. Your cheeks have lost their usual rosy color, replaced instead by a white that looked as though it could rival the color of his hair. 

“Shit,” is the only thing that he’s able to say properly before he scoops you into his arms. He shakes on his feet for a moment, the sudden weight in his arms debilitating his balance. He says nothing as he strides past the others, making a beeline for the exit.

< … >

The first thing that you feel is a dull ache, then followed by a wave of pain that has you shooting upright and promptly vomiting onto whatever surface happens to be beside you. The moment you’ve finished emptying your stomach, a piece of cloth is offered to you by a pale hand – a familiar one this time. 

Hesitantly, you take it, dabbing the cloth against your mouth before looking up to who had handed it to you. 

“Astarion?”

“That would be my name, yes darling,” Astarion responds, though his tone doesn’t hold his usual flirtatious lilt that you had grown so used to. No, he sounds exhausted … it made you wonder just how long he had sat at your bedside. 

Your eyes roam over him, taking note of the tiny, barely-there bags that rest beneath his eyes. For a man who cared so deeply about appearance, he surely looked as though he had let himself go … likely because of you.

As much as you wish to take him into your arms and comfort you, a fleeting thought passes through your mind — he had taken his sweet time in finding you. 

If the roles had been reversed, and it had been Astarion who was taken from you, you already knew that you would have searched Heaven and Earth trying to find him. No stone would have been left unturned, no witness left unspoken to … you would have stopped at nothing. 

But it felt as though Astarion hadn’t cared enough, if he had, you wouldn’t have been as badly wounded as you were. You wouldn’t have laid in that cell for as long as you have, not that you knew the length of time in which you had been missing anyway. 

Astarion’s head lifts at the sound of you rustling, body scooting back from him until your spine rests against the headboard of your bed. You lift your knees to your chest, hugging around them. 

“Darling?”

You remain silent, but you allow your eyes to raise to meet his awaiting gaze. He waits patiently, though you can’t help but feel as though he’s analyzing you.

“How long have I been gone?” you ask. Astarion pauses, scarlet eyes flickering away from you. He swallows, you can see the emotional turmoil that swims in his eyes. Answer me, you usher in your mind. 

“Orin wouldn’t tell us,” Astarion answers honestly, voice wavering as he recounts his angered questioning of the shapeshifter. She had only giggled in his presence and “answered” his question with another question of her own. 

You remain silent, nodding to yourself as you glance down at the bandages that adorn your arms and legs. It makes you wonder if Astarion had patched you himself … or perhaps he had made one of your other companions do it. 

You lift your head, noticing now that Astarion’s attention was focused elsewhere. His expression looks identical to your own — caught in his own mind. Guilt. 

Did he feel guilty?

“Does anything—“ he pauses to clear his throat, “—anything hurt you?”

”Just my arms and legs,” you answer. Astarion nods, inhaling deeply and shifting in his chair. For some twisted reason, you want him to stand up and leave. Maybe it was to further prove your point, or maybe you just wanted to be alone. 

You’d never really know the true answer. 

He hums, nodding to himself before he shifts again. For a fleeting moment, he debates on whether or not he should stand and exit — it was clear that you wanted your space anyway. 

Astarion knew you … and he knew that right now, you certainly didn’t want him around. Never were you short with him, but your tone insinuated that you wanted nothing to do with him. 

Not that he could honestly blame you. 

And so, he stands from his chair. You don’t lift your head to look at him again … telling. 

“Why did you take so long to come for me?”

He freezes, feeling as though someone had doused him in freezing water. His back stands rigid; you could see the way that his spine visibly tenses the moment that his mind processes what it was that you had asked him. 

You snap your jaw shut the moment that the words fall from your lips, regret filling your senses. Sheepishly, you look down, staring at your lap and screwing your eyes shut. 

You freeze at the feeling of arms wrapping over your shoulders, tugging you against a chest that you had spent many nights resting against. His skin felt cold against yours, a welcome contrast to the heat that was currently making you very uncomfortable. 

Astarion’s cheek rests against the side of your head, his hands squeezing at your waist while also being mindful of the injuries that you had sustained. He sighs shakily into your hair, feeling himself relax as he feels you reciprocate his embrace. 

“The moment that I realized that I was not interacting with you, I went out to find you,” Astarion confesses, holding you tighter as he recounts the fear in the moment when he realized that you were not you. 

You remain silent, simply soaking up the comfort that Astarion’s arms provides you with. Your head rests comfortably in the junction that connects his neck and his shoulder, nose buried into his neck. 

“You have … absolutely no idea how frightened I was,” he whispers, his voice so low that it even the rustle of the blankets overpowered his words. His arms shake where they rest around your waist, his fingernails just barely digging into the exposed skin of your waist. “The prospect of losing you–”

“Astarion.”

He pauses, feeling you shift in his arms. Without any word of protest, he releases you, settling onto his knees on the bed in front of you. You adjust yourself, then reach out to take his hands into your own. 

Astarion flinches. You pause, waiting for him to say something to you. He doesn’t, and so you take it as an okay to continue. Your fingers squeeze his own, the action directing his eyes to your own. 

You stay silent for a second or two, simply taking in the way that Astarion’s eyes soften at you. His usually sharp scarlet eyes are glazed over now with a new emotion – guilt. Guilt over not being there for you, guilt over not saving you sooner …

… guilt that you had gotten hurt. 

“Darling, if I had the chance to save you sooner, know that I would have taken it without a second of hesitation,” Astarion admits, shifting an inch closer to you. You feel the tears building along your waterline, your teeth catching your bottom lip as you attempt to suppress the sobs that begin to bubble up somewhere in your chest. 

One of his hands releases yours, hesitantly laying against your face. He thumbs away the tears in your eyes, sighing as you crumple and reach for him again. Astarion doesn’t waste a single second, wrapping you in his arms and resting his chin against the top of your head. 

“I thought that,” you hiccup, “you and the others had forgotten about me.”

His arms tighten around you at that declaration, chest promptly collapsing it on itself as he realizes just how scared you had been. He doesn’t want to imagine what you must have been thinking in that cell, likely thinking about if you would ever be saved.

If he would ever come for you.

“Never,” he whispers into your hair, fingers stroking comforting circles into the small of your back. “I would never forget you, ever.”

“You are the first thing in my entire life that makes me feel … feel something. Something other than burning hatred. You make this wretched world worth living in.”

You squeeze at him, hands bunching up his shirt from behind. He doesn’t bring attention to it, letting you cling to him with as much force as you need. 

“And I’m not going to let you go. Not now, not ever,” he promises you. You close your eyes, sighing shakily through your nose. He can feel your nod against his chest, his cheek leaning further into your hair. 

And that night, when the glistening moon hung over your tent and signaled to your companions that it was time to rest, Astarion remained at your side – fulfilling his promise.

He wasn’t going to let you feel that scared again. Not now, not ever.

#colonelarr0w #bg3 #bg3 x reader #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion x reader #astarion acunin x reader #astarion ancunin x reader #astarion fanfiction #astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion acunin #baldur's gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction

[justlemmeadoreyou]

breeding kink-blurb*

Summary: The one by @harrysonlylover had me dizzy so I couldn't help but write this

Words: 1.2k

Warnings: breeding kink (duh), name calling, degradation, creampie, cum-play, use of a plug

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

Maybe it was the way he had seen you with the children on Christmas. Or maybe it was the way one of them accidentally called you mama, and you almost cried with happiness.

Either way, he was a man on a mission.

Ever since you got home, he wasn't the talkative self he regularly is. Rather, he was quite quiet, thinking, pondering over something with his lower lip between his fingers.

"You know, I've been thinking" he said, while you were doing your nightime routine. You were applying lotion on your hands when he spoke up, and your gazes met in the mirror.

"Yeah?"

"Let's have a baby"

It caught you off guard, hands stopping working immediately. Your eyes widened, lips parting open as you stared at him through the mirror. His expression was contrary to yours, looking so serious, and like a man on a mission.

"A baby?"

"Yeah. It'll be good. I'm home for a longer time now, and till the time you get pregnant, I'll draw up a plan with my team so I can stay at home as much as possible. For the next few years, at least."

Your heart somersaulted in your chest at his words. Your husband, the man who lived for singing in front of millions of people, was willing to take a few steps back to make a family with you.

With you.

You nodded after a few seconds, already closing the bottle and keeping it away. You had been together for a while, and money wasn't a aproblem. You worked from home too, and it was the perfect oppourtunity.

For him to breed you.

"Yeah?" he asked again, and you replied, "Yeah. It's a good idea."

You climbed on the bed, sitting beside him and pulling the duvet over your bodies. He was already half naked, his chest bare with his cross necklace lying between his pecs.

"Hm. Thought so. Saw you today with those children. And when that one called you mama-" he was cut off by a slap to his shoulder, and your cheeks turned red as you blushed.

"I couldn't help it, okay? She was so sweet-and called me mama-" you fonded over the memory, "I didn't pick her up and bring her home with me to keep forever. You should be thankful for that" you said, and he grabbed the back of your neck, his lips coming towards yours.

"Oh I am. And I'll be thankful for the baby you're going to give me too"

His hands grabbed your waist, getting a firm grip before pulling your body down, flat on the bed. He breaks away from the kiss, your foreheads touching as his hands fumble with the string of your sweatpants. He pulls them down hastily, along with your panties. Your hands grab at his hair, lifting your hips up as they make contact with his throbbing, leaking tip. You wince as he thrusts forward, your pussy clenching around nothing.

"Patience, love. Gonna give it to you good, yeah?" he promises and pulls his pants and boxers down. He's throbbing as he grips himself, his rings making contact with his hard length, making him groan.

"Fuck, got me so hard just by thinking of breeding you. Cum inside you and push it in, again and again, till it catches"

He lines it up with your slit, and you wrap your legs around his slim waist. His tip pushes past your lips, your pussy opening up to take him in. He slowly pushes in with a low groan, eyes shut in ecstasy.

"Fuck, so tight. My little breeding slut, aren'ya? Jesus, can't wait to see you full of my babies"

He pushes into the hilt, and you can feel him in your stomach. Slow, deep, so fucking deep thrusts that make you feel like he is rearranging your guts.

"So deep-so fucking deep, Har-" you grip his hips, a firm one, and he grabs your hands, pinning them above you as he fucks you with reckless abandon. His angry tip pushes its way in again and again, kissing the back of your cervix with each thrust. Your toes curl as you get wetter and wetter around his prick, his cock soaked in your essence.

"Dirty girl. Roaming around wanting a baby. Could've just told me" he grips the column of your throat, mind shutting down as he squeezes lightly.

"One word and you could've had my cum in your pretty pussy every day till I knocked you up" his words rang in your ear, tears forming at your eyes, from how fucking good it felt.

He pulls back, making you wince and you look up at him with blown-out eyes, your legs open wide. He grabs the back of your knees, pushing your legs together and towards your chest, and you hold them there as he gets you in position to go even deeper as if he wasn't balls-deep already.

Grabbing your breasts through the thin shirt, he holds them as leverage as he pushes back in, going so fucking deep this time, tears fall down your cheeks. The angle is so perfect-his cock reaching places that have your mind going fuzzy.

"S'too deep-Harry-"

"Shh," he brings one hand to your lips, pushing one finger in and making you suck on it, "keep that pretty mouth shut, yeah? Let daddy fill you up"

You nod like a dumb puppy, letting him use you however he wants. Your moans, whimpers, and cries of his name fill the room as he fucks you relentlessly. Tears staining your cheeks and your wetness staining his cock and balls, it has never felt this good.

"Harry-har-I'm close" you pant, and his hands come to your swollen clit. He strikes it without remorse, making you jolt and his cock to twitch. You cry out as you cum instantly, squirting all over him.

There's wetness everywhere-the amount making his eyes go wide as his cock twitches, and he begins to leak inside you.

There's so much of it-his cum as well as yours. He fills your pussy up, angling your hips above so it doesn't escape, as he cums inside you, filling you up with his seed.

His thrusts don't stop throughout. Just slow down, keeping his promise of fucking his cum into you.

He slows down after a while, bringing a hand up to wipe tears off your cheeks. He pulls out eventually, the amount of wetness surrounding his cock keeping it impossible to keep himself in.

His fingers come to your lips, scooping up the cum that's trying to escape. He uses two ring-clad fingers and pushes it back in, making you whimper from oversimulation.

"Hold it in, yeah? I'll go and get a plug"

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

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[ilykaveh]

ꨄ︎ . ⋆ MOONLIGHT SONATA !

thoma.

ABOUT: unknowingly summoning a demon has its consequences. you have to hold up your end of the bargain one way or another...

CONTENT: demon ! thoma , sub fem reader , humping, virginity loss, monsterfucking, possessiveness, corruption , cunnilingus, size kink, dp, praise, overstimulation, multiple rounds, dacryphilia, rough towards the end, gaping, breeding, squirting.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

being from a small fishing town just outside of liyue harbour had its difficulties. life was simple, unexciting - you envied the tales you’d heard of women in the city, spending evenings at lavish restaurants and having grandiose tea parties with guest lists containing a plethora of personalities. 

times were especially hard when the bounties from the sea remained scarce, meaning that the exports were low. everybody was becoming increasingly stressed, some even moving away to seek financial growth in some other sectors of teyvat. village elders began to find themselves in ill health, the stress wearing away at them. it was a sorry sight, one you no longer wished to perceive. 

whilst taking a late night walk along the nearby river, something glittering upon the riverbed caught your eye. it was buried under a pile of seaweed, loose mud obscuring it ever so slightly. it took a moment to shake the item free, untangling it from nature’s grasp and discovering what you recognized as a drifting bottle, containing a withered note and a rusty old coin. you dunked the body of the bottle in the shallow stream, admiring how the moonlight reflected off of the object. there was something alluring about it, and if you squinted you were sure you could see the faint glow that it emitted - reminiscent of a halo, though that would turn out to be ironic further down the line. . .

upon returning home, you started to better inspect the bottle, illuminated by the candlelight of your kitchen table. there was no indication that water had seeped past the cork, though the scroll of paper inside seemed to have aged. just how long had this been at sea for?

the cork slid out with a single tug; something that was strange considering how tightly it had appeared to be in there. you retrieved the note with the same amount of ease, carefully unravelling it to reveal a what you couldn’t distinguish as being a message or more concerningly, a warning:

“may those whom this bottle graces forever be blessed,

and be gifted benevolence in his behest;

one summon will gift you just this, so strap in! and 

for as long as you live, good things will always happen.”

you read the short poem over a few times, unsure of what to make of it. sure, you’d heard tales of spirit summoners and their adventures, though had always assumed they were simply make believe, a story utilized by adults in order to haunt or encourage a child’s imagination. it was a struggle to believe that a key to your success, a tool seeming to claim that it possessed the ability to bring greatness back to the village, had fallen right into your lap.

even if you did want to test the waters and try your hand at summoning whichever entity is referring to, you didn’t know how to go about it. all you had received was a measly note lacking decipherable detailing - for all that you knew, it could merely be a tease, a bottle set adrift by some teenagers hoping to mess with an unsuspecting traveler. 

not in the mood to further entertain such childish thoughts, you moved to grasp the bottle once again, wishing to shake the coin out of it. perhaps you could sell it to a merchant and fetch a decent price on the thing. 

confusion consumed you as you found that the coin was already resting on the table next to the withered note. surely you would remember taking it out. . . right? 

shrugging it off as becoming increasingly sleepy, you picked up the coin to inspect it slightly, flipping it in the air and catching it in a fist. it once again caught the light in an eerie manner, but you let it sit on the table and headed off to bed regardless, leaving the bottle and its contents to be dealt with in the morning.

. . .

in all honesty, you’d forgotten about the bottle. you’d had a peaceful night, more so than usual. mornings began with your usual routine, finding yourself brewing a cup of coffee when interrupted by an uproar of noise from inside the village.

flinging the front door open haphazardly, mug still in hand, you went to further investigate the commotion. it seemed as though the early morning fishing boats had already returned, and you instantly feared the worst, especially when taking into account the declining health of many of the town’s fishermen. a crowd had gathered at the docks, and your initial thoughts became immediately disproven.

the smell of fish was one that you were used to, albeit it seemed stronger than you had ever known. the closer that you got to the boats, the more fish that came into your line of vision. compared to the scarcities that the village had been facing, you were astonished that they’d returned with such an unbelievable amount! surely this would keep everybody fed for a week, along with being enough to trade for some serious mora! 

it was only then that your mind began to wander back to the bottle that you’d found; surely these two events were mere coincidences. . . right? perhaps it was simply a blessing from the archons, and nothing more. you recalled tales of entities from another world whom blessed to the regular folk of teyvat before then demanding an astounding price in return. 

the thought of being indebted to such a creature shook you slightly, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach. you did your best to attempt to ration with these negative thoughts, instead reminding yourself that such stories were simply old wive’s tales passed down generation to generation in order to teach their young that they shouldn’t rely on others, but should instead retain a strong persistence and work for whatever it is that they wish for - to not take shortcuts nor back down in the face of difficulty. 

regardless, you went about your day minding your own business. nothing else was out of the ordinary, other than the fact that the entire village grew busier due to the morning’s large intake. the subsequent boats who returned seemed to have similar luck too, which only amplified the workload for everybody. but again, things were fairly regular outside of that. you even took another evening stroll along the same stream that you’d discovered the bottle in, finding it a calming feature of your daily routine. 

afterwards, you returned home as usual. upon unlocking your door, you removed your boots, heading to the kitchen to make yourself a hot beverage.

“hey there, darlin’,” 

an unfamiliar voice caught you off guard. a million thoughts rushed through your mind, instinctively grasping for a kitchen knife, should you need to defend yourself from the stranger in your home. you turned around, shaky hands gripping your makeshift weapon. you were met with a man, taller than yourself, donning a cheeky grin and what appeared to be two short horns. 

“no need for that,” he noted, moving to take the knife out of your hands with ease. “i’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart.” he mumbled something about how stupid humans were before taking a seat at your table. 

“who are you?” your trembling bottom lip told the man all he needed to know: that you’d summoned him without knowing. he picked up the coin that you’d left on the table from the night prior, flipping it and catching it in a fist, exactly the way that you had done. 

“the name’s thoma, and just who might you be?”

your eyes grew wide, scanning memories for a reason as to why the name seemed so familiar. 

“thoma? like the old inazuman fairy story? you’re not real, i must be imagining this,” you insisted, feeling silly for talking to yourself out loud. clearly your mind was playing a cruel trick on you and there was nobody in your home except for yourself. 

“i’m as real as you, darling.” he watched your expression intently, not wanting to come on too strong. “those tales aren’t the most accurate. i just fix people’s problems, promise! my coin finds those in need and gives little humans like you a means to summon me.”

he took your silence as a cue to continue his backstory, watching as you judged the situation to your best ability. 

“i’m not technically from inazuma, you know? born and bred in monstadt! i took a ship to inazuma to visit my father. . .” there came the painful chapter that made thoma’s cheery expression falter for a split second. “i got caught in a shipwreck - i was found by a man who taught me how to best help others, to share the kindness that he extended to me, if you will.” 

thoma cleared his throat, the bright eyed and bushy tailed demeanour returning. 

“he tethered me to this coin, and now i get to travel through the lands and see places i never dreamed of!” you could detect a twinge of pain being masked here, though chose to keep it to yourself. “i help people like you - why do you think there’s an abundance of fish all of a sudden, hmm?”

your heart dropped at that statement. if he’d granted you a favor, you knew that you’d have to pay it back eventually. . . 

“what do you want?” your tone blunt and cold. 

“lighten up, darlin’! i can’t do anything you don’t agree to.”

“i don’t have much i can offer you.” the room fell silent for a moment, and your voice fell to barely above a whisper. “d-do you want me to sleep with you?”

thoma gasped, stunned at your question. “of course not! what kind of demon do you take me for?”

“i- umm,” you stuttered, “i heard stories of your- your kind offering to erase payments for sex, and i just- i’m sorry. i don’t know what else to offer-”

“relax.” thoma interrupted. “i mean, you’re a pretty thing, so i wouldn’t turn it down. but it’s your choice, doll. you get to pick what i take from you. hell, offer me something like that and i’ll stick around a little longer,”

he didn’t think you would listen to the final part of that, for your brain would instead be spinning with ideas of what exactly you could pay in return. 

“so you’d make sure there’s enough fish? i-if i sleep with you?”

thoma didn’t know how to respond, instead giving you space to continue. your gaze averted to the flooring as you admitted:

“because i’m okay with it,”

if you were looking, you would have seen thoma’s eyes darken with lust. he stood up once again, closing the gap between the pair of you. your hands gripped the counter as thoma kissed you with a fervour, lips tasting of sugary treats, though embellished with a salty twinge. upon pulling away from you, the demon licked his lips, eying you up and down. 

“a virgin?” he questioned, hungry gaze feeling almost predatory. your cheeks heated up with embarrassment - whilst thoma wasn’t wrong, you didn’t want to admit it. it felt as though he knew your innermost secrets, all from a simple clashing of teeth. 

“don’ worry, i’ll be gentle,” he continued, lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist. his grip on your thighs was firm enough to support you, though tender enough as not to cause you any unnecessary pain. occasionally he squeezed the plush skin, eliciting the cutest little whimpers from you. 

thoma was smirking by the time he had maneuvered you both so that he could rest you on the edge of your table, planting himself between your legs. the bulge in his pants was already becoming prevalent as he began to kiss along your neck, sucking a masterpiece of hickies into your sweet skin. if he was going to be your first, thoma planned to do it right. 

for a demon, he really was benevolent. the nips against the juncture of your neck were playful, though not enough to actually hurt you - they merely tickled. one of his hands pressed your lower half closer to thoma’s body as he allowed you to gyrate your hips against him subconsciously. his heightened senses could almost smell how wet you were for him, able to detect the slick gathering between your legs without so much as taking a peek for himself. his other hand trailed underneath your shirt, tracing unrecognizable shapes into your skin before reaching the hook of your bra. 

thoma took his mouth off of you for a brief moment, allowing him to strip your top half completely bare for him. the demon found himself struggling to think straight, instead overwhelmed by carnal desires to remove the rest of your clothing and plough into your virgin cunt. in a complete contrast to his prior, cheery demeanor, thoma wished to mark you as his property.

he pressed his pelvis closer to you, bulge becoming more and more evident with each passing moment. nimble fingers began to rid you of your remaining clothes; thoma shrugged off his own jacket before throwing his shirt to some unknown location that he could uncover later. 

shortly enough, the pair of you were left in only your respective undergarments. thoma couldn’t help himself but chuckle as he saw the damp patch seeping through your panties, unable to resist making a sly comment. 

“all this just for me, darlin’?” he dragged a finger across your clothed folds, applying enough pressure to make you squirm, though nowhere near the amount that you desired. 

you were already out of your depth. having a man (well, could you even call him such? he was a demon after all) see you in such a vulnerable state felt so foreign, yet at the same time was beyond exhilarating. you felt dizzy, butterflies bursting in your stomach as all you wished for in that moment was to have thoma make you scream. 

his fingers danced over your pebbled nipples, pinching at the hardened buds ever so gently. yet he still fought to contain himself, demon instincts working overtime to corrupt his thoughts. thoma’s hand then made a beeline for your pussy, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties. your pleas of consent went straight to his crotch, fueling his eagerness to devour your drooling cunt. 

as he slid off your underwear, thoma had to bite his lip so as not to groan at the sight. he instantly dropped to his knees, spreading your legs open wider for him to get a better look at you. 

“so fuckin’ cute,” he mumbled under his breath before diving into your weeping pussy. he began by placing a kiss to your clit, followed by kitten licks around the swollen bud, experimenting to discover how you liked it best. you didn’t know what you were expecting, though were pleasantly surprised to discover that your demon seemed to come with a forked tongue that you hadn’t previously noticed. a guttural groan fell from his lips as your hands shot to grip the two black horns protruding from his head, your cunt muffling the sweet sound. you used this as leverage to pull yourself closer to him, and if it weren’t for thoma holding you in place you were certain that you would have fallen right off of the edge of the table.

he changed things up, licking a long stripe up down your slit until he located the tight muscles of your entrance. with the knowledge that you hadn’t laid with another before, thoma decided it best to insert his tongue, lapping up your juices as he prodded the warm muscle against your opening. 

meanwhile, you were reduced to euphoric gasps. you’d only ever played with yourself, and this was a feeling much different to that of which your own hands could conjure. thoma was diligent, not even leaving your clit without attention as he brushed his nose against the twitching nub, one flat palm keeping you spread out for him. the only sounds filling the kitchen were that of your angelic moans and the lewd noises of him slurping at your cunt. before you knew it, you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge. you tried to hold back, you really did. yet thoma’s mouth was rather heavenly (ironic, considering his demon blood).

“‘m gonna cum,” you whined, grasping thoma’s horns tighter. 

instead of replying, he simply patted your thigh a few times, refusing to stop his ministrations and merely hoping that you catch on to his non-verbal cue. you did just that so perfectly, your pretty pussy fluttering around thoma’s tongue as he continued to eat you through your high. 

you didn’t even notice that your grip remained on his horns until he patted your wrists, signaling that you could let go of him now. he praised you for how well you had done for him, kissing your forehead and ensuring that you were okay.

in all honesty, he would have been happy to call it even right there and then. the taste of your cunt echoing on his tongue was enough for him to retreat to whatever realm that he hailed from and to jack himself off to. but how could he do such a thing when you sat there begging him for more?

there it was again. the primal urge to stretch your cunt and claim you as his territory. the thought of branding you with a mark, officially claiming you as his, even crossed thoma’s mind. he worked to chase away those ideas by tasting your lips again, simultaneously slipping his hand down to your folds once again. 

he coated his middle finger in your slick before aligning it with your hole, continuing to kiss you as a distraction should any pain occur. gently, he circled your entrance before easing his digit into you, massaging your walls as you clamped around him. once satisfied, he added another, beginning to scissor your pussy open, preparing you to take your first cock. 

thoma wanted to hear you, instead pulling away from your mouth and letting you rest your head on his shoulder. he cooed your incoherent babbles, telling you that this was necessary before he could fill you up himself, and reminding you that he wished not to hurt you.

he listened as a ecstatic yelp feel from your lips, indicating to him that he’d discovered your g-spot. as the soft pads of his fingers glided across the sweet spot with each thrust, making the stretch even more bearable for you to take. he could feel the pulsing of your gooey walls, the noises you made reminiscent of those you had previously released as you approached your prior orgasm.

“gonna take another one for me, pretty girl?” he asked, though you couldn’t decipher whether or not he meant another finger or if he just wanted for you to cum again. 

it turns out you were wrong either way, for the demon proceeded to slip another finger into your messy cunt, as well as have his thumb seek out the nub of your clit, massaging sloppy circles in order to push you over the edge. already sensitive from your previous high, it didn’t take you much longer to shout his name, nails scratching his muscular figure as you fell apart on his hand. 

“‘s it,” he muttered, “what a good girl f’me,” 

once you had come down from your second orgasm of the evening, thoma pulled his hand away from your pussy. he lifted your head up to look at your face, admiring the glow that the moonlight bathed you in before wiping away the stray tears caused by how darn sensitive your body already was. 

“that’s enough, mkay? ‘m not gonna make you-”

“no,” you interrupted, voice barely above a whisper. “need all of you, please. i don’ want you to go yet,”

despite already seeming overstimulated and teary-eyed, thoma couldn’t deny such sweet pleas. he opted for laying you back against the table, planting soft kisses along your body as he finally trailed back to your hot cunt. instead of touching you directly, he pressed his lips along your inner thigh, watching your muscles twitch in anticipation. 

“if ya want me to stop, just say so,” he warned before finally slipping off his boxers. 

the way in which he had positioned you allowed for you to see his cock as thoma unclothed, the sight making your jaw slacken. it only further cemented the idea in you head that he was indeed not human, for instead of one he possessed two cocks. you gawked, eyes wide as you felt you walls tighten at the thought of having him in you. each appendage was as large as the other, both ribbed and with a slight barb around the tip. you noticed a thick vein pulsing on the underside, wondering if that was an indicator that the demon was ready to pump you full of his load. 

as thoma approached you again, he sized you up. he rested one of his cocks on your stomach, his pupils dilating as he took not of just how deep he would be inside of you. concurrently your mind was consumed by fears of whether or not you would be able to take even one of his cocks, let alone the pair at once. could your mortal body even take such a stretch?

your fears were chased away by the feeling of his bulbous head pressing against your entrance, thoma running it along your slit a few times just to collect some of your juices. he looked to you for consent, waiting for you to nod before he started to ease himself into you. his other cock remained bobbing around your stomach; thoma would have pumped his fist around it should he not have been so concerned about you instead. 

it felt like a fire had been set ablaze in your belly, tears gracing your lashline as you yelped, yet never once telling him to stop. 

“so tight,” thoma uttered, “you virgins always have the prettiest little pussies,”

you couldn’t even retort if you wanted to, mind going blank as the ridges of thoma’s cock brushed against your sweet spot. he took his time bottoming out, revelling in the spasming of your delightful cunt as you cried out in euphoria. you could feel the barbs around his tip tickling your cervix as he bottomed out.

“look at how well ya did, darlin’,” he praised, smiling at you as you blinked through glassy eyes. “maybe i should try fitting them both in, hmm?”

thoma noted that you made no move to say no, allowing his mind to drift to filthy thoughts of truly breaking you in and how damn gorgeous you would look with a cunt full of his cum. this spurred him to begin moving, dragging his cock out of you at a painfully slow pace. his initial thrusts were shallow, waiting for you to start whining for more before pulling himself almost all the way out, until only his head rest in you, and proceeding to slide his way right back in, once again nestling himself against your cervix. 

he listened to your body, doing his best not to cause you too much pain as he stretched your poor pussy to mold around his cock. he was aware of how sensitive you were, overstimulated before he could even fill you up. 

“go on, cum on me, sweet thing,”

the feeling of you clamping around his cock was a feeling so very different to having you cum on his fingers. it was much more intense, and seemed to finally be his breaking point. you were busy seeing stars as thoma pulled you closer to him, folding you into a sloppy position reminiscent of a mating press, ensuring that he had full access to your exposed cunt as he grabbed his other cock in his fist. 

its tip was already leaking precum, a portion of which had already caused a mess on your lower tummy. he pumped his fist a few times before aligning himself with your hole once again, this time pushing your pussy to its limits as he thrust both of his cocks into you. 

knowing he was not only the first cock you had, but also the second, filled thoma with a sense of pride, encouraging him to continue his assault on your abused cunt. you took him so well, he wanted to stuff you full of his cum. no, scratch that, he needed to fill you with his cum. 

thoma had gone feral, lost his sense of reality as he pounded you like an animal. he used your body, bending it and shifting it so that he could find the best way to bruise your cervix, chasing his own orgasm without any shred of care for you. hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if you’d already cum around his cocks at least once more with how fucking amazing you felt. 

words had truly fleed you, leaving you babbling strings of his name as thoma finally began sensing his orgasm on the horizon. he ploughed into you with inhumane speed, truly exhibiting his demon side unlike you had seen yet tonight. if you were level headed enough to look closely, you could see his emerald irises be overtaken by pure black. 

all that it took was one nudge against a certain spot inside of you, and you began to fall over the edge once again. this orgasm hit harder than the last few, overstimulation having truly set in. your gooey walls held thoma in a vice grip, enough so to trigger his own orgasm as both of his cocks spurted cum against your womb, the warmth feeling comforting to you whilst in your fucked out bliss. the sensation made your pussy gush, a jet of liquid spilling all over thoma and on your table. sloppy thrusts continued as your squirted, waiting until it had died down to a trickle before pulling out of you. 

to say that you were fucked out felt like an understatement. you were exhausted, struggling to move as thoma finished with you. he was intrigued at the way your cunt gaped as he took his cocks out of you, watching ribbons of his cum dribble out of you as you lay unmoving.

he admired your trembling form basking in the moonlight before dealing with you, ensuring he cleaned up and that you got to bed comfortably. the demon even placed a kiss to your forehead once again, this time a silent promise that he’d stick around a while longer.

#delilah.docs #thoma smut #thoma x reader #thoma x you #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin imagines #genshin impact thoma #thoma x y/n #thoma drabbles

[cod-imagines-fanfiction]

Jealous Alejandro kidnaps Valeria's girlfriend to be interrogated by the 141 (2.9k words, part 3)

Summary: Valeria prepares to take you back at all costs and she thinks back to the days of your happy love. Alejandro's jealous interest turns into something more sinister as he continues to intimidate you. The tables turn as Valeria makes her first move.

TW: threat of (sexual) violence. (Also Google Translated Spanish)

I didn't expect to write Alejandro so darkly, sorry! I'm also working on the next part! I'm aiming to finish this fic before the 10th because that's when I'm flying to my home country for the rest of August, and I won't have the space to be as active or to write with privacy. Also thank you for all the love you've sent my way, I really appreciate all the attention and it makes me very happy. Enjoy part 3!! :D Link to A03 Part 1 and Part 2

Valeria was a well-inked woman, her tattoos were typical for someone who made their living within the hostile environment of a cartel. Her ink was in many ways traditional; a rose on her upper arm, a classic snake circling the blade of a knife, references hidden within elusive Roman numbers, an image of Death looming behind a scorpio on her bicep. Images strategically placed in obvious places, a courtesy call for all who came across her. And then there were the private ones, that only you had ever witnessed; that only you had trailed your finger upon, following the lines down her skin, making her shiver underneath your touch. The matching hearts stamped very low on her back, the quote of your favourite song etched on her skin. And right below her tummy, just underneath her underwear line, this was written:"Love is as strong as death, as deep as the grave." A secret romantic, she got that tattooed after you rubbed her lower tummy to relieve her painful period. You had been together for quite a while by that point, had already exchanged 'i love you's, had already explored each other's bodies to the core, and had been living together. She knew you loved her and you made a point of showing it every day. And yet, it still caught her by surprise sometimes, your tender touch caressing her when she wasn't expecting it; in the sparkles that came alive in your eyes when she walked into the room. But what moved her most of all was how you responded to her weakness. Not the same weakness that men look down on - the open displays of her love, the open hurt in one's eyes when their loved one said something that cut deep. No, what really mattered to her was the physical weakness, how you would respond when her strength failed her and she was bedridden. Valeria had the unpleasant habit of sleeping alone when on her period, saying that it was because she got angry easily and didn't want to bother you. But really, she didn't want you to hear her small whimpers, to see her body curl inwards as she sought relief from the pain. On one of those days, as she was napping in the spare bedroom, and just as she was winning her struggle with sleep and about to enter the land of dreams, the bed gave in to your weight as you crawled behind her and put your body against hers.

"Go away, mi amor. I'm not in the mood." She grumbled in response and tried moving away from your touch. Paying no mind to her protests, you kissed the top of her head as you slid behind her, placing your arm below her neck and bringing your bodies close. You left a trail of tiny kisses along her neck and your other hand roamed beneath her shirt, then moved lower, passing the elastic band of her underwear.

"I said go away, I can't do it today," she protested but stopped because instead of going lower, your hand simply just rested on that spot. You drew circles on her soft lower tummy with your thumb. As your hand warmed up her skin, it brought relief to her pain. "I'm your personal water bottle, baby," you cooed as you placed more small, chaste kisses on her skin. Valeria relaxed into your skin, basking in the warmth as she let out a relieved sigh. Valeria had always known she'd kill for you, but at that very moment, she vowed to die before she let anything harm you. She needed to mark her devoted love for you on her skin permanently, and so got that tattoo in the very spot that you massaged every month.

And now she stared at that tattoo as she buttoned her trousers and tightened her weapons belt, hiding it.

There was a stiffness within Valeria that made her hard to break, but that, nonetheless, would one day surely be broken. She feared that this day had now come. She always knew you'd be part of her undoing, but if that undoing was ever to happen, she anticipated it in the form of betrayal. There were certain wounds that your love would soothe, but not erase, and her fear of losing you was one of them. Although she knew there was always the risk of losing you in her operations - spouses were frequent targets of attack in her profession - she could never fathom that this would ever happen. And now that it finally did, her undoing felt imminent. But before she fell, she would undo the lives of every person involved in your abduction.

Valeria walked down the halls of her estate which was now busy as a bee's colony. Personnel ran up and down the halls, transferring arms and themselves to vehicles and aircraft, putting everyone down to the guard dogs into use. Everything was readied to perfection before they descended upon the headquarters of the Mexcian Army with blood and fire. This was unlike Sin Nombre's usual pattern of behaviour. El Sin Nombre worked in the shadows and did the most to prevent bloodshed. El Sin Nombre brushed shoulders with the Mexican Army frequently, but nonetheless maintained a respectful distance. They kept to their turf, and she kept to hers. She was the blade that shone in the shadows, an elusive blade that had to be looked for, but now she would carry her knife in the open. And she would burn the world to the ground, the whole lot of them be damned. Let it be known that Valeria Garza loves a woman to death. And she will ride the forces of death to the battlefield even if just to reunite with her love. She thought of you right now, kept somewhere cold and grimy, afraid and lost in the world of armies and men, in the world of violence and destruction. A world she tried hard to keep separate from your own.

And yet still, she did not regret ever bringing you to her life; not for a second. Binding your lives may have caused your ruin and hers, but she was still glad to have known happiness with you before the bitterness descended.

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"Tell me, Y/N. Have you ever been with a man?" Alejandro looked right into your eyes with his dark ones, and you just stared at him, shocked and embarrassed. Your anxiety turned into stone-cold fear. What kind of question was that? This was not where the conversation was going, nor did you ever expect to be asked this - especially by someone like him. You painfully craved Valeria's presence in that moment, so much that it hurt. Ever since she entered your life, no one dared to intimidate or harass you. She became your protector and your guardian. It had been years since you had to defend yourself, verbally or physically, and the realisation almost brought tears to your eyes. You became painfully aware of your predicament as the Colonel stared you down impatiently.

You willed yourself to say something, anything, but your words would not come out no matter how hard you tried. "I asked you a question," he said. "I don't know what to say," your voice trailed off to near silence by the end. You looked down at your hands, fidgeting with your ring. "It's a yes or no answer," he said. "I don't want to talk anymore," you said, louder than you spoke before. "That's not how interrogations work. I ask, you answer." Alejandro stepped forward and leaned down to your level. "So answer the question - ahora." "¿Qué quieres de mí?" You asked. ("What do you want from me?")

He moved uncomfortably close and whispered: "I want her to suffer. I want her to know what betrayal feels like. Quiero arruinarte." ("I want to ruin you.") His eyes trailed below your tearful eyes and to your lips, then lower to your neck. His breath caught at the sight of bruises forming on your soft skin in the shape of his fingers. He wondered what the rest of you would like decorated like that, what it would feel like to grab all the soft parts of you and make them hurt. He gloated at the idea that Valeria would see you like that; destroyed and afraid, marked all over by him. For her to feel what it is like to have what she loves tattered into pieces. To feel the betrayal that he felt when she left him. He, the leader of Los Vaqueros, one of the most promising soldiers of his generation, abandoned for a random girl that nobody had even heard of; a nobody. A girl who did nothing more than help out in her Abuela's kitchen. As Alejandro's eyes leered across your body, he wondered what it was that attracted Valeria to you. Was it your pretty eyes? Large and round puppy eyes that he bet could beg so prettily. Was it your soft and glistening skin? Or was it your inoculated innocence? The innocence of someone who didn't know what it was like to kill, who had never taken a life. The innocence of someone who didn't make their living alongside Death. The innocence of someone you came home to after a long day, who nursed the wounds the world inflicted upon you and sent you out there stronger than before. Or maybe it had to do with the fact that parts of you filled out where his didn't. The parts of your body that were soft where his were hard, that you were delicate where he was strong, that your skin was smooth when his was scarred. That where he yielded, you broke. That you could crumble in love and he wouldn't. That he and Valeria belonged with the destroyers of the world, and you were of the destroyed. That there was an inevitable attraction between these opposites, and resistance when two of the same met, an instinctive aversion to that which was made of the same stuff as you.

"You as much as lay a hand on me, cabrón, and it'll be the last thing you ever fucking do," you spat your words at him, anger burning in your chest. Upon hearing this, a dark grin stretched across his face. He reached out with his gloved hand and grabbed a strand of your hair.

"You're so stupid, you don't even know it," he mused while rubbing his thumb against your hair. You jerked back to release him from you, but he only held on to your hair, preferring to see you rip it from your scalp than let go.

"You don't know what can happen to women in custody, do you?" He said. You stared back in defiance. "You're just trying to scare me. You wouldn't dare." "I guess Valeria never told you how we do things here." He said, looking down at you. "She told me how much she fucking hated it, and how small you all made her feel," you said, emboldened in your anger. "And whatever you do to me won't change the fact that she loved me and not you, and that she will always choose me." You said, staring up at him. His eyes darkened and he released your hair, only to raise his hand high above you, preparing to bring it down with a force that would knock you off your chair.

He was about to do so but was interrupted when the door opened.

An unknown man entered the room, dressed in the typical kit of the Mexican Army. "Colonel," he said and saluted. "You're wanted in the yard." Alejandro looked behind him lazily. "What's this about? Estoy ocupado." (I'm busy) The man blinked back at him. "El fantasmo, sir." Alejandro grunted and returned his hand to his side, not bothering to hide what he was about to do. He started walking towards the door. "You just think about what I just said," he uttered and shut the door behind him. A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you took a moment to comprehend what just happened. His threat hung over you like a rope, tightly coiled like the lump in your throat. How long till he returned? You couldn't stand the idea of being left alone with him again. "Senora."

For a moment, you forgot the other man was still with you. You looked up at him, worry written all over your face, weary of his presence. He stepped closer to you and placed a hand in his pocket. To your surprise, he pulled out a strawberry-flavoured breakfast bar; one of your favourite snacks. "Don't you worry. La jefa viene en camino," he said as he passed it to you. ("The boss is on her way") Stunned, you held the bar in your hands and looked at him with tears in your eyes. Many thoughts rushed through your mind - she knew you were here! You thought of what Commander Graves had said about Valeria having friends with many places, and here was one operating right underneath their noses. You wanted to ask the man so many things, but could only speak one word: "When?" He looked at you with a soft, sympathetic smile on his lips. His fingers reached to the earpiece and he pressed it. "Now," he said and an alarm siren started started screaming.

The sound was unlike anything you'd ever heard before. The siren blared over the speakers of the Mexican Army's headquarters in one long, continuous yell. Immediately, you could hear the thundering footsteps of countless men running up and down the grounds, yells of surprise and panicked instructions that were incomprehensible to you from within the box. The man looked at you calmly. "Stay right here, senora. Don't come out for any reason." And with that, he ran out the door, sealing the door shut behind him. You could hear a chain rattling against the entrance as he locked you in. The breakfast bar sat on your lap and you began peeling the wrapping. You took a big bite out of it, tasting the sweetness of the sugar and the sourness of the strawberry pieces. You swallowed your snack as the first bullet was fired.

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Alejandro was annoyed at the interruption and hurried to the yard where Ghost was expecting him. He wondered what the urgency was. Perhaps Valeria sent a message. That was what he wanted, but he hoped it would take a bit longer. There was a surprising amount of fun to be had with you. Even if he didn't lay a hand on you, his words alone were enough to terrify you, and he loved every second of it. Your eyes widening in fear when you understood what he meant, your embarrassment at what was implied; it excited him more than he wanted to admit. Had that been Valeria on that chair, he would've been chewed out in a second, if not worse. It was uncommon to come across someone so timid as you in his line of work, someone so easy to pick on. And yet, you showed some spite, too. There were many layers to be uncovered here, and he wanted to take his time unravelling all that you had to offer.

He arrived at the yard. The place was littered with army vehicles transporting cargo and people to and from the facility, and further out, the aircraft was in the process of being retired for the day. To his annoyance, Ghost was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he found Rudolpho helping out with the transport of arms.

"Have you seen Ghost, Rudy?" Alejandro asked. Rudolpho paused and turned to his superior, and longtime friend. "Ghost and Soap are in a meeting with General Sherperd, the Captain, and Graves, sir. I'm not sure when they'll be done." Alejandro raised his eyebrows in surprise. "A meeting with Graves? And why weren't we invited?" Rudolpho shook his head, "I'm sorry, sir, I don't know." He partly turned around to continue with his task, but then faced Alejandro again. "Colonel," he said and moved closer to Alejandro so that others couldn't hear. "I'm not doubting your judgement here. But will this help catch El Sin Nombre? We've not heard anything of Valeria since that night." He said.

Alejandro stared back in response. "Of course this will help catch her. I told you this is a necessary evil to weed her out. I know how she works, trust me." He affirmed.

Rudolpho seemed unsure. "I knew her too, Alejandro. And I don't think this was the right move, at all. And I think Commander Graves is having his doubts too." He didn't need to spell it out for Alejandro, he knew the implication behind this. That Graves was doubting Alejandro's judgment. That this meeting they were having could very well be about this operation, calling it a failure. Wanting to change the strategy. Rudy pressed on. "And I really don't think she ought to be left alone in that container. She should be transported to jail, sir."

Alejandro turned to him and spoke slowly, realization hitting him like a wave. "But she's not alone." The alarm in Alejandro's eyes spread to Rudolpho and they both turned to face the building that hosted the container when the emergency alarm was triggered.

Promised tags: @justmare @silas-222 @m0rganit3 @blarba-girl (thank you for all the support!) @sleepiemain @caffeineliker @ashy-kit

#call of duty valeria #valeria garza #valeria garza x reader #valeria x female reader #cod valeria #cod imagine #cod mw2 #call of duty #valeria x reader

[jnginlov]

i love you, again

your boyfriend has a bit of an endearing habit when he gets drunk and after a stressful day you couldn’t be happier to hear it

⇀ pairing s.coups x reader

⇀ genre fluff, slight hurt/comfort (but just the comfort)

⇀ style one-shot/blurb

⇀ word count 1.6k

⇀ warnings drinking (reader has wine, cheol is drunk), talk of being stressed, food, so sickly sweet

⇀ reactions from the gc “You love me so much🥹this was perfect”

note i wrote this MONTHS ago for syd and i guess myself cause i had the shittiest week known to man (ignore the formatting idk why i was writing with capitalization bleh)

Seungcheol wasn’t known to be a lightweight, especially compared to some of his other band mates, but there were certainly times when he’d gotten past the point of making sense. You predicted that tonight might be one of those when he’d texted you that he and the boys were all going out to celebrate the end of their incredibly successful promotions for their latest comeback. Usually he might invite you to tag along, as many of the members enjoyed bringing their partner along, but he knew you’d had a tough day, the kind only recovered from by alone time, so he had let you know where they were all going and that he’d probably be home a bit late, and you were honestly a bit thankful that you would have the entire apartment to yourself for the next few hours at least. You loved your boyfriend, but honestly if you had to interact with another person face-to-face for very much longer before you had your personal decompression time, you might just break down.

So, when you get home you move as slowly as you feel like, pouring yourself a glass of wine, running a bath with your favorite bubble mix, that you remind yourself to thank your boyfriend for restocking earlier in the week, and ordering your favorite comfort food to be delivered just before your skin would start to wrinkle in the water. Once you’ve settled onto the couch with your food and pulled up your favorite movie you can already feel that most of the day has melted off your shoulders.

As the movie ends you check your phone for the first time since you've gotten home, there are a few notifications from your friends and a couple messages from Jeonghan. You two are certainly friends but he’s not really a casual texter so you’re slightly confused until you notice the images he’d attached.

The first picture is just Seungcheol, a candid of him laughing at something one of the other boys must of done or said. He was always better at taking those aesthetic boyfriend pictures of Cheol than you were, but you like to blame it on the years of practice he had before you even knew either of them. The second picture is obviously from later in the night, and you notice that it was only sent a few minutes ago. There are several empty glasses in front of your boyfriend, and you can spot at least three empty soju bottles, but most notably he is very cutely posing for the camera, a blush dusting his cheeks as he pouts his lips.

You giggle as you reply to Jeonghan with a quick and simple laughing emoji before you place your phone back next to you on the couch and set up for your second movie of the night. You don’t feel a buzz next to you for the entire first act of the film, Jeonghan often not responding unless he has something else to say, but just as the main character is starting to reach the peak of their conflict your phone lights up with a call from your likely very drunk boyfriend.

You answer as soon as the movie is paused, smiling gently as you say, “Hi Cheolie.”

You hear his muffled giggle on the other side of the line before he replies with a drawn out, “Hiiii.”

“What’s up?” you ask, knowing that he must have called you for a reason.

He giggles again, although this time he forgets to cover the microphone and you can hear the tinkle of his laugh as clearly as your phone speaker will allow. His giggles always had the same effect on you, feeling light stream between your ribs as butterflies brush against your stomach. Instantly the rest of the tension you’d been holding in your body seems to melt away, swallowed by the love struck smile your boyfriend has to be wearing on his face based on the way his next few words come out.

“Hmm, I want to tell you something.” He says it lightly and you’re starting to realize how gone he must be. You can faintly hear the muffled sounds of the bar he’d been at for the past several hours but you figure he must have stepped out of the main room, if not all the way outside, because the background sounds don’t cover his words at all. “Can I tell you something?”

“You know you can tell me anything,” you reply quickly, telling the truth even though you’re familiar with the secret he’s about to spill.

Every few months, once your boyfriend has gotten sufficiently inebriated, his memory will seem to fail him and he will forget how far you’d gotten into your relationship. This means that wherever he is, whatever he is doing he will suddenly have a burst of longing for you and will need to “tell you something”. This something is always along the lines of how much he loves you but he will treat this fact, that you already know and had probably heard him tell you at least five times that day alone, as though it’s a new confession. The other boys think it’s funny but you find it adorable that the man you love returns your feelings so strongly that he basically can’t keep them to himself even if he’s not sure you two are even in a relationship.

You hear Seungcheol take a deep breath through the phone before he says, “Okay but it’s really important.”

You chuckle lightly in admiration and try to control your smile as you reply. “Would you rather do it in person?” you ask, never having this happen with him over the phone. Usually this would happen when you were together drinking, so although you’d had a glass of wine earlier you were certainly more sober than you’d been any other time he’d done this.

“No!” he practically shouts in response. “I’m too nervous,” he responds quietly, although his words are slurring together and so you almost don’t hear him.

“Okay,” you say fondly, your own smile no longer able to be fought off by your self control. “I’m listening,” you reassure him as another chuckle slips past your lips.

He takes a pause and you almost wonder if he’s going to not say it. Maybe you misread the situation and he is actually telling you something that you’d rather hear in person. You feel a bubble of doubt form in the bottom of your stomach, itching with nerves as you wait for your boyfriend to stumble through his next words.

As soon as he’s opened his mouth you feel that bubble pop and the itching is replaced with warmth as he, as clearly as he can with all the alcohol running through his system, says, “I love you.” It’s a firm statement, said with the tone of a fact but the way you can practically feel Seungcheol’s tension radiating through the phone almost makes it feel like a question.

“I love you too,” your reply rolling off your tongue as easy as every time you say it to him but never losing any of the tenderness you hold for your lover.

Seungcheol suddenly releases a breath on the other end of the line and you can almost hear his lips stretch into the loving smile he always gives you after hearing those words.

The next few moments are filled with comfortable silence and you’re almost afraid to break it before you ask, “When are you coming home?”

This seems to almost bring him back for a moment as he must be remembering that, not only is this not the first time he’s told you he loves you but, he shares an apartment with you, where he gets to go to bed with you every night and wake up to you every morning. You’re patient as you wait for him to catch up and you almost feel bad for ruining his romantic alcohol related fantasy until he has suddenly come back to reality.

“Right now,” he says with an urgency, and you can hear him open the door that had separated him from the commotion of the main room. “I want to hold you,” he adds as a sort of explanation and you faintly hear the sounds of Jeonghan calling your boyfriend’s name.

“I’m all yours,” you reply with a light giggle, shaking your head as you get up to move to the bed, turning off your forgotten movie and packing your leftovers for the fridge.

“Wow,” he breaths out faintly in disbelief causing you to let out another giggle.

“I love you,” you remind him, partly just to hear him sigh in that lovestruck way he does when he’s in this mood. “I’ll see you soon, baby,” you add and you can hear him drop something or bump into something as all the other boys groan at him and you laugh.

“I love you too, bye,” he says quickly as you can hear the boys starting to hound him about what he’s doing before he hangs up.

As you bring the phone away from your ear you notice how different you feel from when you first got home and even from just before your boyfriend called you. The stress from your day had dissipated almost completely and you almost forgot that you’d originally wanted to spend your night alone. So as you get comfortable in bed, and wait for your sweet Cheol to join you, you make a mental note to allow yourself to enjoy your boyfriend’s healing energy when you might feel like isolating again.

↼ misc masterlist

#scoups x you #scoups x y/n #scoups x reader #scoups fanfic #seungcheol x you #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x y/n #seungcheol imagines #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #seventeen x you #seventeen fanfic #svt fluff #fluff #comfort #svt imagines #svt x you #svt x y/n #svt x reader #svt ff #scoups fluff #scoups fic #seungcheol fanfic #seungcheol fic #seungcheol ff #scoups ff #imagine #fanfic

[hannawinchester03]

THE CASUAL MEET UP..

Mob boss! Bucky X Fem Reader

The story of two people who shouldn’t be in love but they are, one of them know this already and the other is just lost, trying to make it through life.

Plot line..

(Y/n) runs into some trouble with the law, needs help getting out of the situation, so she uses a friend’s advanced and gives Bucky a call. A man with endless access to money and helps people in need, for the right price of course. Something that’s sounds strange to some, but perfectly normal to others.

This chapter contains: family loss, grief, alcoholism, knives, guns, money, poverty, physical abuse, mental abuse, mental illness, and depression.

Word count: 2,000

(Y/n) let out a small sigh as she leaned back into her seat at the bar taking another sip from her glass swallowing the last sip of her whiskey as she looked around at the vacant seats around the tables in her once very popular family restaurant.

It has been 3 years since the incident happened, for the last 36 months it had been eating her alive, watching her back everywhere and anywhere she went awaiting for the arrival of the people to come and finish off the job, waiting for them to kill her and putting her out of her misery but it seemed to never come.

“Why me..” she mumbled out as she slid off the seat standing up as straight as she could as she held onto the wooden bar countertop. As she stepped down she let the glass cup fall from her hand hearing it break as she let go of the countertop walking over to the other side of the room.

She made her way to the empty stage kicking an empty beer bottle to the side as she sat on the edge of the stage her feet dangled as she got herself situated, she rubbed her face a little as she let out a groan trying to wake herself up, but she had a little too much to drink so her eyes were glazed over even after trying to rub it away.

(Y/n) looked around at the dimly lit dining room, observing as some of the back corner tables had chairs up on top of them as if to tell the customers to not sit there, she lightly shook her head as she looked at the other end of the restaurant seeing the street lights lighting up the inside of the abandoned looking restaurant she once called home.

(Y/n)’s mind was once filled with great memories of running around the restaurant with her mother greeting everyone of the customers as a child with a menu and looking up at her mom as she introduced herself and took their orders.

Memories of sitting in the kitchen listening to her father as he sang along to the radio and cooked all of his and his wife's family recipes, telling her how one day all of this would be hers so she better pay attention closely.

Not only was her mind filled with childhood memories but with her teenage years, walking customers to their tables, now her introducing herself and taking orders, bringing the customers anything they needed as she would make small talk long enough for the food to come out bringing it out watching as they smile happily sitting back with their families and enjoying their food as they listened to live bands play music.

These are all the good memories that (Y/n) liked to think about, granted there were a lot of memories trapped inside these walls, most of them were good but there were some bad.

She will never forget the time she walked into the kitchen seeing her father with a knife up to her mothers neck, threatening her for who knows what, she always pushed it aside as she didn’t like to think about it much, thinking it’ll get better but it only got worse.

The next time her mother was holding a gun to the back of her fathers head. “You know we couldn’t afford it! Why would you..” (Y/n) listened to her mom scream at her father as she watched from behind the door trying to hide so she could watch but she was spotted, she couldn’t help but jump as she watched her father turn and punch her mother watching as she fell onto the cold pavement.

(Y/n) always thought those were the worst moments of her life growing up, but as she got to her teen years she told herself it was normal, all families were like this she always told herself. She would fake a smile making sure all the customers were happy as she tried her absolute hardest to keep them coming as the food got worse and they began to lose business everything going down the drain.

All leading up to the day she will never forget. It was a normal Wednesday afternoon, a nightly band who were just a couple of high school kids that had instruments and would play their best music they could, each one already exhausted from their school day but they got as much free food as they wanted so they stuck around and played lousey music in hopes for some extra tip money.

(Y/n) worked the night shift, so they always came into work at 7:30 and would be there all night until 5 am. The restaurant had a bar and most of their business was from all the drunks coming to their bar once all of the other bars closed, so they stayed open as late as they could.

(Y/n) remembers it like it was yesterday, walking through the back door leading to the kitchen hearing a loud scream and a gun shot not long after. She remembers gently setting her keys down so she wouldn’t make noise as she looked around the corner to see what was going on.

The sight she saw was her mother on the ground with a puddle of blood forming around her as her father was backed up against a wall with a gun pointed to his head as an older gentleman stood in front of him without a mask or anything, (Y/n) always found that strange, she could never understand how someone could do something so hateful and still have the nerve to do it without a mask to hide their identity, as if they were above the law and their wouldn’t be consequences for their actions.

“Where is all the money, all the money you owe me!” Is all (Y/n) heard before she heard a loud gunshot watching as her own father got shot making her cover her mouth as she moved back around the corner going to run out of the back door they she had come in from but she stopped in her tracks as she saw the door swing open making a loud bang as a man with a gun in his hand standing in the doorway.

(Y/n) felt her heart drop as she watched the man take a step inside towering over her it seemed like as she fell to her knees holding onto her necklace her mother had given to her as she closed her eyes waiting for her doom.

All she heard was two or three shots making her flinch as she tightened her grip on her necklace. “this can’t be happening..” she remembered telling herself under her breath as she curled into herself.

For what seemed like hours she waited until she felt someone’s strong grip on her arm as she was pulled to stand up making her cry out in pain at the strong grip as she was holding her so she wouldn’t fall. “What do we do with this one?” She heard a voice say as she tried to look up but her eyes were full of tears she couldn’t see anything. “Take her to a hotel.” Another man said out as she watched the silhouette through her fuzzy vision as it got closer. “I’m sorry we didn’t get here in time, we were supposed to protect you from seeing that.” Was all (y/n) heard before she was unconscious.

The next thing she remembered was waking up in a hotel bed, wrapped in silk sheets as she looked around still in the same work clothes she had been in the night before. She rushed out of bed and looked out the window seeing she was nowhere she could seem to remember, which was strange since she knew just about everywhere around her.

As she ran to the nightstand to grab the phone to try and call someone she realized the phone was not there making her look around frantically opening all the doors to bathrooms and closets until she opened the main door and ran down the hallway getting to an elevator, once inside she pressed the main floor button.

She watched as the numbers went down and when the doors opened she ran out to the front desk. “Sir, where am I? What day is it?” (Y/n) said out to the man who was mopping the floor making him look at his watch and begin to speak in a different language making (Y/n) fall to her knees crying as she knew she was lost in a place she probably couldn’t get away from.

“Ma’am you’re okay, you are in upstate New York, the date is Friday, August 23rd,.” (Y/n) heard as she felt someone holding onto her shoulders as she wiped her tears away and looked at the woman in front of her as she was kneeling in front of her. “Thank you..” she mumbled out as she looked up at the woman and sniffled a little as she looked around.

“d-do you have a phone? I need to call someone.” (Y/n) asked softly as she tried to stand up but the woman handed her the phone so she stayed in her spot and dialed the number to her family restaurant, listening to it as it rang again and again. “Hello, little joe's Italian restaurant, how can I help you?” (Y/n) heard her best friend's voice making her let out a sigh as she couldn’t find her words.

“Damn prank callers..” was all (Y/n) heard before the phone was hung up.

(Y/n) doesn't remember much after that she chose to forget, after hours and hours of state provided therapy telling them what had happened and them just telling her she gots to accept the fact my parents retired and ran off to their dream vacation, leaving her some money to survive along with the family business, god she loved to wish that’s what happened but she was told it so many times she was eventually made to believe it.

(Y/n) leaned back, laying her back against the stage. As she huffed softly she rested her hands under her head looking up at the one busted glass light bulb for the spotlights thinking about how she’d have to fix it, soon dozing off.

“Hello! Wake up! Did you really sleep here?” (Y/n) heard as she felt someone kicking her foot making her sit up and let out a small cry as her back ached with pain from the way she had fallen asleep. As she blinked her eyes a few times she noticed it was Elizabeth. Her best friend since childhood was a girl whose family came to eat here frequently enough for the two of them to become friends.

“Oh no, I just got here. Wanted to take a quick Power nap before our big rush..” (Y/n) mumbled out as let out a small yawn walking to go behind the bar turning the lights on from the control panel and heard the bell above the door ding as a customer walked in. “I hope y’all are open..” the older man’s voice said as he walked over to the bar, (Y/n) and Elizabeth showed the man a smile. “Of course, it’s 5 o'clock somewhere right.” (Y/n) joked as she grabbed a glass and went to pour him a drink.

“Oh I’m not here for that, I’m here with a business offer..” the man stated as he grabbed a card from his pocket and put it on the bar counter. “If you ever want to sell, or need help give my son a call, he’ll take care of ya for the right price sweetheart.” The older man said as he glanced between the girls before turning around and walked away toward the door.

Hope you enjoyed! Tried to give y’all as much backstory information so you can feel more part of the story and understand the characters role, stay tuned for the rest!

Here is bucky’s backstory!

Feel free to message me with requests or other suggestions I'm all ears.

Bye, until next time!

#marvel #marvel mcu #mcu x reader #mcu x you #my writing #james barnes #mcu fanfiction #mcu imagine #mcu rp #fanfiction tips #james buchanan barnes #bucky barns x you #bucky barns x reader #bucky barns fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky barns x y/n #james bucky barnes #bucky fic #bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barns imagine #bucky x you #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky imagine #mcufam #winter solider fanfiction #winter solider imagine #winter solider x y/n

[dawn-moths]

Hi I love your blog i was wodering if you could do number 15 with Undertaker,thank you in advance💓🥰

hi! i recognize your url haha, i’d love to do number 15 with undertaker for you 💕

prompt: watching their oblivious s/o lovingly

character: undertaker (kuroshitsuji)

words: 1900+

content warning: reader’s family was killed in an accident and has some survivors guilt, i put a little more “plot” in this than i originally intended so i hope you don’t mind lol, sorry if this is sad.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

The funeral home is bathed in shimmering, golden light as wisps of sunset stream in through the latticed windows, sun dust dancing in the beams that cast a buttery veil over the surface of shiny caskets strewn about the floor and catching in the bright glint of the glass bottles and jars lined up along the shelves.

A few of the candles are already lit, tiny flames flickering as they hover on the end of charred wicks, rivulets of thick wax making their slow descent towards the silver basins they’re perched in below.

You’ve come to love this place— a place that, at one point in time, had filled you with dread, reminded you of your own fragile mortality— as it now brought you peace.

Maybe it was because you’d become so acquainted with death yourself, had felt its lips ghost over yours with a near-fatal kiss when you’d been on the verge of leaving the living world.

You’d been the lucky one, they’d all told you, because you’d survived.

However, the rest of your family— both your parents and your two other siblings— hadn’t been as fortunate when the carriage had crashed over the cliff side, tumbling down the steep hill into the sea of pine below.

You still wondered why you’d survived while they’d all been claimed by whatever was waiting on the other side of life, but at least there had been one saving grace through all that hell.

Because, if you hadn’t had reason to seek out mortuary services all on your own, you would’ve never met him.

“Undertaker” was the only name he’d given you, still refused to tell you anything other than that title whenever you tried to press him, so, even though his insisted mystery at something as simple as a name sometimes irked you, you’d more or less accepted it.

In the beginning, you’d been wary of him, unable to look him in the face and carful to keep your distance.

But as time went on, as you grieved, as you recovered, and, at last, once your family was put to rest six feet under the ground, you’d found you’d warmed up to him.

Because it hadn’t just been the singular occasion of seeking out his business’s services that had pulled you into his orbit, or the inevitable return after the funeral to pay him what was due and thank him for all his hard work and consideration.

Undertaker had seen your pain plain as day from the very second you stepped through those doors and into his grim domain. He’d seen the fear and the loneliness and the mourning. The guilt and regret one often wears when they can’t help but think, if only I hadn’t made this one decision on that particular day, everything would’ve turned out differently.

So he’d comforted you. He’d helped you feel not so alone and, unlike the other more familiar faces that seemed to pop up to surround you at every turn, offering rehearsed condolences that were so sickly sweet they bordered on condescending, bringing an endless array of casseroles and roasts and all kinds of other deep-dished dinners that most nights had just ended up in the trash because you could barely bring yourself to eat in those first few months after your loss…

Unlike all the others who said what they thought you wanted to hear, did what they thought would help you instead of asking what it was you actually needed, Undertaker had treated you like he understood perfectly right from the start.

You figured he knew the intricate, silent language of death and mourning better than anyone, given that his day to day for who knew how many decades had revolved around it. But you’d expected him to be emotionally uninvested and purely professional when you’d first prepared to speak with a funeral director. So it very much caught you off guard when he’d been the complete opposite.

He’d treated you with compassion, patience, and, above all else, respect. He didn’t pity you, and gave no coddling words about how your deceased family was “in a better place now” or calculated coos making promises that you could ask him for “anything you might need, at any time” like the others who’d learned of your loss when you knew they had their own busy lives to jump right back into once they’d filed out of the funeral and the babbling brook of black clothes and tear-streaked cheeks had dispersed.

It made you wonder who he’d lost in his life, though you were never brave enough to ask.

So you’d found yourself returning to him, drawn back into his somber chamber of half-constructed coffins and gleaming silver instruments strewn about. You’d accepted his invitation to stay for tea and biscuits and felt grateful when he just let you talk about what had happened and how you felt, not feeling the need to interject or give you advice on the proper way to grieve.

Undertaker had sat across from you, secretly studying the distinct features of your face and your innate little mannerisms from behind his curtain of silver fringe, the scar cutting across his face just barely peeking through, and listened.

It was less than any of your other friends or family would’ve considered they’d done for you, but that simple gesture meant more than anything back then.

So when he’d offered you a position as his assistant, promising fair wages and adequate training, though you felt some apprehension at such a serious and, as you could imagine, having been on the other side of it, sorrowful task, you’d ultimately agreed without much hesitation.

Because there was something about being around him that had helped— was still helping— to heal you.

It certainly helped that, the more you two had gotten to know each other, the more comfortable he’d gotten about cracking jokes or making humorous little comments here or there.

Undertaker had a strange sense of humor, a dark one for sure, but as time went on you found that so did you.

You’d since lost count of how many times you’d both ended up laughing so hard you were practically wheezing, arms wrapped around your middle as you clutched the stitch in your side, entire body shaking with the kind of carefree joy that only comes from a good, hearty, unexpected laugh.

“Laughter is the best medicine,” he’d once told you, after you’d suddenly burst into tears after enjoying such a jovial moment, reminded how you’d never get to laugh like that with your family ever again. “Even in the darkest of times, just allowing yourself to experience small joys can help cure what ails you, even if only for a moment.”

You remembered his words often, whenever you were missing your lost loved ones. Undertaker had taught you to laugh more often even if for the sole purpose that they couldn’t anymore, and sometimes that fact alone was enough for you to at least smile.

“Because life is for the living,” he’d also taught you. “You must experience the things that they won’t get to and know that they would’ve wanted you to have a full life.”

So now, as you finished cleaning up and organizing everything in the shop for the day, humming a melancholy little tune quietly to yourself as you moved about, Undertaker leaned in the doorway and silently watched you, his silhouette a tall, billowy shadow as his dark robes draped over his svelte form.

His brilliant chartreuse eyes broke through the cracks in that curtain of silver meant to hide them, and he couldn’t help but grin to himself as he thought how lucky he was— after so many years of solitude— to finally have someone who brought real joy to his life.

Even sweeping the concrete floors, the dusty skirts of your dress swaying about your feet in rhythmic, graceful motions, Undertaker found you beautiful, his delicate, earnest little human.

You were careful around the one coffin he’d strictly told you never to open or disturb, doing a half-turned dance to maneuver the currently cramped space with all that littered the floor, but to Undertaker, you appeared as elegant as if you were the belle of a ball, slowly waltzing about the macabre dancehall.

He’d found new purpose in the life-after-his-afterlife in having you learn from him, in teaching you his trade, witnessing you succeed and fail and succeed again.

You were going to make one hell of an undertaker yourself one day, if and when his jig was finally up and he had to flee this place tucked into the darkest, dingiest corner of London.

Sometimes he thought you didn’t belong here only for the fact that, as he’d half flirted, half joked to you on your very first encounter, “Someone so pretty doesn’t belong somewhere so grim.”

Still though, he was glad you’d chosen to stay on your own accord. Glad that you had a reason to return to him every day, allowing him to bask in your presence, the only ray of light amidst his world of shadows and decay.

When you finally turned and looked over, you jolted a bit as Undertaker’s unexpected appearance startled you, and after letting out a gentle yelp and clutching your heart you found yourself smiling at him.

“What are you still doing here?” you asked, abandoning your broom as you migrated closer to where he leaned in the doorway. “I thought you went home already. I told you I’d close up.”

Humming out a lilting, fleeting note, Undertaker carefully reached a pale, slender hand over to brush some stray, flyaway strands of hair that had come loose from your braid throughout the day back behind your ear, delighting in the fact that you still blushed a little at the gesture even after he’d done it so many times by now.

“I got caught up with something in the back,” he informed you, his voice low and tender, nearly a murmur in the stillness of the room. “I thought I’d stay and walk you home. Make sure you got back safely.”

Undertaker was usually at the shop until long after sundown, sometimes so late you swore he must sleep here sometimes, only resting for a couple of hours before morning peeked above the horizon and tolled the bell on a new day, more work always to be done. (The phrase “you can rest when you’re dead” had taken on a slightly different, more morbid meaning now). In fact, you knew he’d often pull all-nighters, though if he had any bags under his eyes to tell of it you didn’t know. That part of him was still mostly a mystery to you, other than the few times you’d caught accidental glances of such iridescent emerald while you two were working in close proximity.

He’d offered to walk you home a few times before, but you’d usually refused, assuring him it wasn’t far and you could always call for a carriage along the way if you wished. He never pressed you or insisted too much, but tonight, perhaps it was because you were catching a glimpse of those unearthly eyes of his again, reading what you could swear was complete devotion in them, you accepted his invitation to escort you back.

The walk was mostly silent, though you took it more for the fact that the two of you had been working tirelessly these past few days than anything else. However, Undertaker used the window of comfortable quiet as yet another opportunity to gaze upon you.

Oh, how he’d miss you terribly when he finally had to go, and it hurt him even more so to know there was a possibility it would be without warning if he was found out before he could catch onto it.

But he’d spent too much time running from the past and trying to predict the future. All he really needed right now was to allow himself to enjoy the present he shared with you.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

from this prompt list. requests are now closed, thank you to everyone who participated 💕

#undertaker #undertaker x reader #undertaker x you #undertaker x y/n #black butler #kuroshitsuji #black butler x reader #black butler x you #black butler x y/n #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji x you #kuroshitsuji x y/n #black butler undertaker #kuroshitsuji undertaker #black butler fanfiction #undertaker kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji fanfiction #black butler fanfic #kuroshitsuji fanfic #kodis requests

[bi-zemo]

curiousity - tate langdon x male reader

tate hates that students moved into the house, but the guy that moved into his room may be able to help him with something.

based of the british concept of student houses (aka bunch of students rent a shitty house together while in uni) idk if americans have those but idc, reader takes drugs btw, bottom tate

crossposted on ao3

The house being turned into a student house was a decision hated by the ghosts, young people moving in and out every year bringing with them mess, drugs, drinking and parties. The ghosts had no privacy and the students were so busy or so high that they couldnt be haunted out. Tate was of the opinion he had gotten the worst deal, yes he enjoyed being out in the open during the many house parties but the current resident of his room was arguably the worst yet. Every other night, every night when there was a break from college, the resident of tates bedroom would bring someone, or on occasion multiple people, into what tate considered his space. They would take pills or drop acid or snort something and that was when tate would leave, right as a tie or sock was slung over the doorknob. It pissed him off, that sort of thing happening in his room, he wasn't exactly the virgin mary himself but the amount of guys going in and out of that room was disgusting. The fact that it was men really didn't help the students' case in tates eyes, there were enough dead queers in the house without alive ones moving in. He was curious though.

I walked through the house, squeezing past people in the stairwell and struggling up the steps as the tab I had dropped nearly an hour ago made each step warp and move. “Need some help sweetheart?” I relaxed my grip on the bannister and turned to the familiar voice, the guy who I had been seeing occasionally standing behind me. “I'm good, i think, you’re free to come up if you want though.” I smirked slightly, trying not to laugh at how the taller mans usually beautiful features had become disproportioned. my arm was gently grabbed and I was led upstairs, the people thinning out as we headed to the bedrooms. “Let me guess, acid” “Yeah only a tab tho-” I turned only to find he had disappeared, the darkness feeling so much more terrifying with the psychedelics fucking with my vision. “Looking for someone?” I whipped around facing down the landing again, except now there was a man staring darkly at me, his figure somehow still in the ever changing room. “My friend, he was just here..” “Probably just drunk, or on something knowing this place, you going somewhere?” “Yeah, was going to bed,” I felt uneasy in the darkness, especially with the man's dark eyes staring into me. I longed to be back in the party downstairs. “I can walk you to bed if you want” “I think i can manage” i was becoming less sure of that, the man somehow amplifying the effects of the acid while still remaining perfect. “You sure about that love? Whatever you've taken seems to be making it hard to walk” “It's just,” i attempted to walk a straight line “the floor keeps moving, that's all” The guy grabbed my arm where my friend had before and led me along the hallway, stopping right outside my door despite the fact that i hadn't told him where it was. I was caught off guard by how quickly we had traversed the seemingly lengthened hallway. “You can uh, you can come in, i think i have some wine under my bed, or like some beer maybe” The man smiled and opened the door, stepping in like he was already at home in my small room. He settled on the mess of quilts and pillows that was my bed, almost lounging. “I’ll have whatever, don't think you should though not sure how it'll interact with,” he gestured at my current state. “Yeah, lemme just,” I got on my knees, rooting around under my bed until I found the bottle of cheap wine I had hidden from my housemates under there. “Didn't expect you on your knees so quickly,” he joked, making me feel less uneasy around this almost stranger. I laughed quietly handing him the bottle. “You owe me, its my last bottle.” “Ill be sure to bring one next time i'm here.” “Good to know you’ll be back” The guys eyes glinted at me as he uncorked the bottle and took a swig, his adams apple bobbing as he almost chugged it down. “Thirsty?” “Just tryna catch up with you.” I stood up flipping on my leds with the remote from my bedside table and tugged my hoodie off, chucking it on a nearby chair. “Why is that?” I settled on the bed next to him, slouching down and staring at the ceiling as colours swirled around my bare lightbulb. I felt him shift and his face came into view. “Well from what i know about you, being fucked up makes this better.” And with that he kissed me, soft inexperienced lips almost aggressively connecting with mine. I wound my hands into his soft hair, the acid making his short breaths deafening, and he crawled on top of me, his knee moving between my thighs. His movements were stunted, my heightened senses picking up how his hands only ghosted my clothed skin. I moved my other arm to slide the fingers under the hem of his shirt to where a stretch of skin was revealed from his shirt riding up. I felt his breathing stop for barely a second when my fingers brushed his lower back, that second taking much longer than it should. Our lips parted, a string of saliva breaking after a moment, and I opened my eyes to see him staring at me again with those black eyes. “Tate stop bothering him,” He jolted and I saw a girl standing in the doorway, her figure having the same effect of not moving as the doorway swayed around her. He quickly moved off me, adjusting his shirt hastily. “I guess I should go.” I felt almost disappointed, oddly cold without his touch. The girl had disappeared. “Whose she? You don't have to leave.” “Violet, she's uh, a friend.” an ex then, “I'm gonna go.” “You still owe me that wine.” “I know”

It was the next day and my mind was tired, the comedown not treating me well. I was pottering around the kitchen making pasta when I heard a voice. “I brought that wine” It was the guy,tate I recalled from that fever dream of a night. “How did you get in?” “Door was unlocked.” He handed me a bottle, one of the cheap brands my household favoured, and I tucked it under my arm, grabbing my bowl of pasta. “Wanna come upstairs?”

Tate could barely hold himself back, an invisible thread pulling him to the man he had only kissed for a moment yet felt like he knew entirely. The bottle of wine had been discarded on the bedside table and the guy was talking wearily about his classes or something along that vein. “So what do you study” Tate realised he should answer. “Oh, i don't go to college, dropped out of high school” The lie slipped out easily, something he had told previous owners of this room. He hadn't planned on talking to the guy again, just kissing him the night before out of curiosity, but it had felt like a bolt of electricity had hit him the moment they touched and he couldn't help but want to feel like that again, like he was alive. He found himself shuffling closer as they talked, turning his head right as the other turned his. The animated talking stopped immediately as their eyes locked.

I almost didn't realise we were kissing again, one minute tates dark eyes were staring straight into mine next his lips were on mine, more aggressive than the night before, all signs of inexperience gone. I melted into him, hands moving to grip the front of his shirt and pull him into me. This time when we drew apart we barely paused before he dug a hand into my hair and pulled me into him again. The initial shock had worn off and I started an attempt to be in charge again, slipping my tongue into his mouth and moving my hand down to his waist. I pulled away and moved to his neck, hearing barely there gasps as I gently bit below his ear. At this point I had pushed him against the headboard of my bed, my thighs straddling one of his. “Fuck” I chuckled lightly at the word, barely mumbled after my hand had slipped under his shirt and started gently caressing his waist. I could feel his breathing pause when I moved along his sensitive v line and teased the waistband of his jeans. Each touch had a physical reaction and I found myself addicted to finding a new sound or twitch. “I want to fuck you.” His dark bambi eyes looked up at me when he heard the sentence, cheeks flushed and lips slick with spit. I couldn't tell if he was batting his eyelashes on purpose. “Go ahead.” My hand went from fiddling his jeans button to unbuttoning them, pulling them down past his erection that was trapped behind his baggy boxers, he had pushed his shoes off when he sat on my bed and so his jeans slipped off easily, leaving his plush thighs to start pebbling with goosebumps from my cold room. He began pulling off his own t-shirt as I began slipping off my sweatpants and hoodie. The moment we were both almost naked I reconnected our lips, my hands exploring his warm thighs and ass, pulling him up to rest on his knees over my lap. “You're beautiful tate.” He flushed, the blush spreading down his chest. “Just fuck me already.” Such dirty words coming out of his timid blushed form made my cock twitch, and i couldn't help but follow what he said. I pushed Tate back, hearing the headboard bang against the wall as he thumped onto the bed, and tugged his boxers past those beautiful thighs, leaving kisses as I went. His thighs were soon hooked around my head, almost suffocating me as I lapped at his ass, preparing him gently and teasing out those gaspy moans. He had seemed unsure when I initially dove down but his heels pressing against my back and pulling me closer eradicated any fear that he wasn't enjoying this. His hands tugged my hair drawing me closer still. Without looking up I grabbed the lube from my bedside table, only coming up for air to read the label. I had grabbed the flavoured luckily. I squirted it onto his taint, watching him shiver as it slid over his ass before sliding a finger in and letting my mouth join it. The sweet flavour suited him. He winced slightly but still let out a groan and pulled my now sweaty hair to the point where it almost hurt. Another finger slipped in easily and I felt his legs squeeze as I started moving them gently. I moved up, still fingering him to force out the whines, and let him pull me up to kiss him. I hastily pushed off my boxers with my free hand and leant over to grab a condom. I withdrew my fingers with a squelch, causing Tate to open his eyes and look at me through his blonde fringe, his eyelashes fluttering again. I rolled the condom on and lined myself up, leaning into tates cold neck as I pushed in. The noise he made was unforgettable, like a combination of a gasp and a deep groan, i rocked my hips slightly as i eased in my full length. A moment later I grabbed his left thigh and pushed his leg up, allowing me to bottom out with a sigh. “Fuck, holy fuck” His head was thrown back as he said this, his throat bared and his eyes shut gently. I pushed his other thigh back until he was almost folded in half and began thrusting, my breaths coming out in pants as his ass squeezed around me almost too tight. I could see his cock hard against his stomach, oozing precum onto the pale skin. “You’re taking me so good honey” He blushed and I saw his cock twitch at the praise. “Such a good boy.” And with that I pulled out almost my full length, thrusting back in as hard as I could and making him moan loud enough that my housemates would most definitely ask about it later. I tried the best I could to keep up the speed, enjoying watching tates beautiful reactions. He was gripping the headboard above him at this point, tears forming in his eyes and drool slipping from the corner of his mouth. “Can-” he could barely talk from moaning so i slowed, “can you take the condom off, i wanna feel-” he blushed. “You wanna feel what baby.” “I wanna feel you cum inside.” He must've felt my dick twitch then, his words coming out desperate enough that if i had been any closer i may have come. I shouldn't have, he could have an std for all i knew, but i slid out and removed the condom. Pushing back in caused tate to hiss as i hadn't lubed up a second time, but when i paused he begged me to keep going and moaned loudly as i bottomed out. The warmth was almost burning now that I could feel it fully. I moved slowly at first before the friction subsided and I could go faster again. “Fuck, tate, im close” He whined, blonde hair sticking to his sweaty forehead, and I gave one final thrust that almost pushed him up the bed before cumming. As I rode out my orgasm I felt him clench and shudder as he came over his chest. I kept going to help him through before my softening cock slipped out and I collapsed onto the bed next to him. “I didn't realise it would feel that good” His words came out hoarse and breathless, I turned with mild surprise. “You haven't had sex with-” “With a guy, no.” I was too exhausted to comment, just rolling over and pulling him to my chest. “You took it well.” I felt him hesitantly snuggle into my chest.

Tate felt the others' breath even out and instantly made himself disappear, pulling on his clothes and moving towards the door, stopping only to fix his hair in the mirror and wipe the dried spit from his mouth. “Didn’t take you for a queer.” Tate rolled his eyes, pushing past violet. “Didn't take you for a voyeur” He ignored that he could feel the other mans cum beginning to run down his thigh.

#tate langdon #tate langdon x reader #tate Langdon x you #tate langdon x male reader #tate langdon x y/n #ahs murder house #ahs #evan peters #evan peters x reader #evan peters x male reader

[wooahaes]

Hi 👋🏾 For the prompts list request, I’d love to see what you’d dream up using 5 + 10, and if you’re feeling extra inspired, combine those with prompt 45 for Wonwoo (but only if you’re feeling it!)

sugar cookies & cozy nights

pairing: non-idol!wonwoo x gn!reader

prompt: 5 + 10 + 45 from these prompts  

word count: ~0.8k

warnings: food mention! sappy wonwoo. intentional lowercase + no proofreading.

daisy’s notes: ty for the request! i hope u enjoy some soft sappy wonwoo <3

as much as wonwoo loved living with mingyu, his decision to bring some friends over was enough for wonwoo to message you. he liked his friends, sure, but work was particularly draining and he wanted nothing more than a quiet night alone... and he couldn’t really have that with mingyu’s friends over.

so when you gave him the go-ahead to come over whenever, he threw whatever he’d need to spend the night with you into a bag and made the trip over. he already knew the code to your apartment, letting himself in since you knew he’d be up within the next few minutes (he’d texted you the moment he arrived at your building). you called out to him that you’d ordered takeout and it should be there in a few minutes, and he mumbled his thanks. the moment the door was closed behind him, he finally let out a long breath of relief. he felt at home again.

you’d been curled up in the couch, video game controller in hand. he asked if you cared whether he took a shower, told him to go ahead, and he stopped long enough to press a quick kiss to your temple before going on to your bathroom. he threw his bag into your bedroom while the water warmed up, and soon enough took solace in your bathroom. there was something comforting about using your body wash (sugar cookie this time--he was sure it was one of those holiday bottles you’d stocked up on while the seasonal line was in). as much as wonwoo didn’t admit it to you, he liked smelling like you. there was something comforting about it, whether it be something like your favorite body wash or the scarf he’d borrow from you that had whatever body spray you used still lingering on it.

he was sure you already knew how much he liked it. by the time he returned to you, noticing the dinner set on your coffee table while you still played your game, he was sure you could smell it on him. he sat down at one end of the couch, half-heartedly answering your question about how his day went with a mumbled “fine” before cozying up on the opposite end from you.

“dinner’s here if you want to go ahead,” you said, eyes still glued to your screen. “you don’t have to wait for me.”

he waited, watching you a moment longer. “honey?” he said, and watched the way you seemed to perk up at the term of endearment. they were rare, after all, and wonwoo liked saving them for moments like this. “can i hold you?”

you paused, turning to him with a smile. “so it’s that kind of day...” you mused aloud, but moved over nonetheless. he pulled you into his arms, and you settled in happily before returning to your game.

you were warm. this, wonwoo thought, was what he’d been wanting all along.

“wonwoo?” you said, not looking up. yet he could hear the teasing tone in your voice, “why do you smell like me?”

he felt a smile tugging at the corners of his lips, and he merely pressed a kiss into your hair. “it’s comforting.”

he always liked to hear the way you’d giggle in response. “someone’s sappy tonight...”

wonwoo curled his arms around you, snuggling in further. he shut his eyes, just happy to hold you for a bit. “can i say something else sappy?”

“go ahead.”

“i think we’re soulmates.” he idly fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt. “i mean... i think i have many soulmates. i think a lot of people do. mingyu’s one of my closest friends and i think he’s a soulmate, too...” his fingers grazed the skin of your arm, “you’re number one.”

“aw... babe,” you giggled. “i think we’re soulmates, too.” you’d paused your game again, snuggling into his chest happily. “you okay?”

was it that obvious he was tired? or was he only this sappy when he reached a certain point...? “i just needed somewhere quieter,” he said, “so i came to you.”

“ah.” you turned to face him, chest pressing against his own. “i can put on a movie if you want--”

“you don’t have to stop playing,” he quickly said. “i like watching you play.”

you had smiled at that, leaning in to press a quick kiss against his lips. “okay,” you said as you drew back. “i’m gonna take a break to eat, then. and then we can cuddle and i’ll keep playing. okay?”

whatever it took to get you back in his arms again, wonwoo was okay with... even if your cozy night in ended with him falling asleep while holding you, happy to have you there with him.

taglist: @wonuziex @synthetickitsune @twancingyunhao

#wooahaes.fic #seventeen imagine #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #svt x reader #svt imagine #svt x you #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x y/n #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x you

[afyrian]

chapter 1 masterlist

   "NO!" Ben charges at the maze doors, his eyes locking on Minho, "MINHO! Alby! Don't do this!"

  His voice rattles Minho, Ben's eyes wide with betrayal written in every tear. Pupils sharp, Minho stares right back at him, unable to move his attention. "You can't do this to me!" 

  Ben reaches the towering doors; however, they're too tight a fit for him. Loose bits of concrete fall to the ground as he lets out another scream. Nothing, not the changing, not even a griever's sting, could cause quite a scream to rip from his lungs. Cause him to want to rip his vocal cords out and hope that something may give him a saving grace. 

  He pounds against the maze walls, writhing in pain as the concrete bruises his hands. The mossy vines rub against his forearm, the only thing sending a calming sensation through him. His lungs fill half way before he needs to let a breath out, panic now setting in. "Please!" Ben's voice becoming too hoarse for his pleads to pass through the wall. 

  It's quiet, his arms and feet growing tired. "Please..." his eyes water, body sliding against the concrete doors until he's on the floor. 

  Tears drip onto his hands, the dirt on his hands finally showing as it mixes into a muddy substance. He brings his hands up to his face, laying down against the concrete flooring. Bits of rocks poking into his back and legs. When he lifts his hands from his eyes, the sky has started to grow dark. Shadows merge with the rest of the emerging darkness and Ben's situation truly dawns on him. 

  No one has ever survived a night in the maze, nor found a way to escape. How could he possibly be the first? His heart beats quickly as he grabs ahold of the bag that they had thrown to him. While sitting up, he opens the bag and starts digging through the items. There's some fruit, veggies, and granola wrapped up. A couple bottles of water hide behind the bundle of food. Rope and other materials make an appearance alongside a note in an inside pocket.

  Ben scrambles to open it, looking at the lined paper like it's the last thing he'll ever see. The feeling of the thin paper between his fingers is the only thing keeping him grounded. The feeling of the glade. Of every time he's flipped between the pages of a notepad, talking to Minho about his time in the maze. He stares down at the note, lip trembling as tears fall onto the paper.

  His name is written at the top as if it's a decree for his head on a spike. The signature style of the sloppy b only leaves him to believe that Minho wrote it. Ben furrows his eyebrows, thumb running along the paper as he reads. The lines of pain and torture hit his heart harder than anything any of the other gladers could've written.

  The mini map at the bottom of the page, uneven and poorly designed, is what sends the ink blurring. There are small notes etched alongside the locations, showing how the maze will appear the next day. Minho used a pen to write what Ben had already knew, took the time to sketch something out in the case that his mind can't think straight.

  Ben leans the back of his head against the concrete doors. Letting the paper slip from his fingers and lay against the ground. He finally looks up at his surroundings, watching as the darkness over takes the maze. The only lights in sight are the ones somehow carrying over the maze doors. Flickering from a supposed bonfire. However, the shadows of those dancing and playing aren't there. It seems, there's a somber feeling inside and outside the maze.

  A clicking noise echoes down the maze halls, Ben's breath hitching as the sound carries through his ear drums. He hurriedly grabs the paper, crumpling it in his hand before stuffing it into the backpack that the gladers supplied. Ben throws the straps around his shoulders, clipping the clasp across his chest. His shoes slide a little against the slick spots of the concrete flooring as he runs forward. 

  "Oh shuck," Ben whispers to himself, reaching a spot in sector two that he's not totally familiar with. 

  It branches in two directions, one left, one right. Click.... Click... The noise grows louder as Ben pulls the paper from the backpack, looking at the locations of the walls. Ben's jaw clenches before taking a right, hand stuffing the paper into his front pocket. His heart beats quicker with each step and each turn he takes. 

  He takes a turn quickly, stopping in his tracks as he spots a griever a ways down. Its body moves unnaturally, the fleshy parts thick and overtaking the space of the hallway. His eyes can't seem to move from it and the stingers that carry the same venom that sent him through the changing. Air audibly leaves his mouth, body stuck like a deer in headlights.

  Ben swallows a thick ball of mucus, lips trembling at the sight of the thing. He takes a step back, staring the griever down. When he takes another step back, he steps on a dried out ivy branch, a thick crack resonating in his ears. However, he isn't the only one who heard the nauseating sound. The griever's body moves in his direction, spinning like a ball. 

  He breaths heavily, spinning in place and running down the hallway he had just come from. With every noise it makes, he loses track of where he is within the maze, every turn he takes contradicts his knowledge of the maze. Especially with the thought that every turn he takes to escape will reveal another griever ready to rip his head from his shoulders. 

  He takes a final turn, one that should've carried some forethought. When he looks up, all he can see is a hole in the ground and a large wall blocking him from running elsewhere. He looks back, listening to the sounds of chittering and clicking getting ever so closer. Even the sounds of the sloshing, gummy body sticking to the walls and flooring echo through his ears. 

  Ben's always been a runner, always on the balls of his feet. Even if it's just a bonfire night, he still jumps back and forth between his feet. Now, though, he feels stuck to the floor. His body weighing down at his senses overwhelming him. The sight of the distance of the hole, the sound of the griever taking another turn, the smell of dirt and vines.

  Even for a second, he wonders if this is where he's meant to be. If he's meant to die on this hill, if he deserves it. Something in his mind clicks as he hears the paper crinkling when he turns to look towards where the griever is coming. Minho made a map for a reason, left a note for a reason. This isn't the end of Ben's story, he isn't going to let it be the last chapter.

a/n: my first miniseries here!! i hope you all enjoy

#his time isn’t finished #the maze runner #the maze runner fanfiction #the maze runner fanfic #tmr #tmr ben #the maze runner ben #tmr fanfic #tmr fanfiction

[knightinink]

Stressed-Out Dip Headcanon

-Once they’re grown, Damien has a lot of responsibility on his shoulders, since he’s the King of Hell & must oversee everything that goes on there. He does some of the torturing and preaching damnation upon new arrivals everyday, but there’s also a lot of paperwork to be done behind the scenes for all sorts of things.

-Pip has insisted many a time that he help with some of it, hating to see his husband so stressed out & ran completely ragged by the end of the day (usually around 3-4am), but Damien refuses, saying that “it’s my responsibility, angel, I wouldn’t want to burden you with it”, or something along those lines.

-Frustrated that Damien won’t let him help, and crestfallen at seeing the demon get so stressed out, Pip eventually comes up with a way he can help, & in such a way that Damien might not notice at first.

-Studies have shown that, when in close proximity of someone you love, your heart rates & breathing will slowly get in sync, & when Pip discovers this while reading in their expansive library one evening, he decides to give it a try.

-It starts with him bringing tea or light food to Damien while he’s in his office, or going to quickly clean something in his office, and he lingers there for a moment. As soon as he hears that deep intake of breath followed by a harsh exhale (the telltale “breath of stress”), he knows to linger for a few minutes, and slows his breathing down, inhailing just loud enough for Damien to hear, yet not be concerned about anything (Pip would never want to add to the already built-up stress).

-On days where the bottle of stress tips over, Pip will bring a raging & highly distressed Damien anywhere comfortable, whether that be a chair, a couch, or their bed, and will lay the demon’s head on his chest while hugging him, matching the breathing of his husband and then slowly bringing it down to a more normal rate. (If Damien let’s some tears silently roll down his cheeks, Pip doesn’t mention it, knowing to just let Damien let it out. He may also pet his hair during this & whisper quiet reassurances).

-As time passes, Damien eventually figures out what Pip is doing & he’s impressed that his angel figured out something that helped him, & even more so that it took so long for him to realize he’d been doing it at all. He never says anything about it though, just allowing Pip to work his magic.

-…Until one night.

-Pip had been gone for the majority of the day, up in heaven on business, as they requested to speak with him over Damien. Pip agrees to this, if only to keep the war between the two at peace, and for Damien’s sake, as he knows how much the demon hates the place, & hates dealing with the people there even more.

-When Pip comes home that night, Damien doesn’t pick up on his mood immediately (he’s not the most emotionally intelligent person), but as soon as he hears the “breath of stress” from his husband as they’re laying down to bed, he immediately pulls the Brit to him & holds him, running his claws through his hair while matching his breathing, then slowly bringing it down.

-Whether Pip picks up on this he doesn’t know, but he talks about his day & expresses how some of the people up there still detest him for being with Damien, & saying the rudest of things within earshot. Talking about it does help, & Damien keeps his breathing technique up until Pip has fallen asleep in his arms.

-I feel that Pip would never realize that Damien had figured out what he was doing, & that he doesn’t realize that Damien does it for him too.

#I love this breathing & heart rate fact so much #it’s really sweet! #& once again with the damien who is better at expressing himself through actions rather than words #I love them <3 #& it’s even better now that I can imagine them with the post-covid designs I gave them! #pip pirrup #damien thorn #sp dip #pip x damien #south park headcanons #south park

[kazecoping]

for admin oliver: 1. what books does gilbert actually like, since i rmr reading that serge tries to get him books but he can be kind of picky with them? 2. can you go more into detail about gilbert's addiction and the reocvery process for that? also which part of recovery/withdrawal/etc is he currently at 3. this might need a tw idk but can you also delve more into gilbert's current issues with eating and the psychology around that? how has the accident impacted them? 4. since his thoughts around auguste start to change in this au and he realizes how bad auguste really was, how does that impact his thoughts on other characters from bonnard to rosemarine even?

claps hands! that's a lot, i have been successfully entertained ... thanks for asking, i shall now answer in a way that hopefully satisfies you!

as always with these long asks, the answer is below the cut! warning for drugs and eating disorder talk, i'd try to be as subtle as humanly possible but ... it's kazeki, so. yeah.

I. gilbert's reading preferences

it's mentioned during his backstory chapters (so around volume 4-5) that he took a liking to erotic novels when he was little, and judging by that scene in volume 11 where he recites something along those lines i'd say that preference hasn't faltered.

so, he enjoys erotic novels, pretty obvious and a canon fact.

but i think he'd also like books on animals, since he doesn't have one at the moment the closest thing he has is a book.

we never talked about the kinds of books serge got him (they were scattered around the room, anyway) but they didn't get much attention from gilbert. he reads them, sure! but he doesn't particularly care for the stories or their contents ...

he'd like very dramatic books, too ...

NULL'S EDIT: Serge definitely did not bring him erotic novels., even if that sort of thing could actually have helped him heal his autonomy or sexuality or familiarity or what not he would Not have done that ghsdhf. But, he definitely would bring him stories, dramas, the 25 cent romance prints (there might be some dicey stuff in those, he is not proofreading them) at a certain point in the story they did find a bible and had a laugh about that

II. addiction, recovery, withdrawals ...

he used the initial withdrawals as a way to inflict pain in himself (so, self-harm)

opioid withdrawals are physically painful, they have a variety of symptoms such as nausea, goosebumps, sensitivity to light, hypertension and, in his case, he had hallucinations at the start (not 100% sure if this last symptom is medically accurate, though!)

anyway, he wasn't having a fun time. it was awful.

he stopped taking the drugs despite having them at hand (as null mentioned)

thankfully, it seems that opioids stay in the system for a few days (not entirely sure, since we don't exactly know what drugs gilbert was taking ... hence why i'm talking about opioids in general) so that's good, but he was jumpy and miserable for a bit longer since he was really, really dependant on them + his body is already a little fucked up and very weak, it probably took longer ... paris messed him up.

but, right now, he doesn't crave them. the little bottle they had is hiding somewhere in a box and gilbert has forgotten about its existence by now. though, he wishes he could go back to them, since that at least helped him "go away" for a moment. i guess he's going to go back to his old habit of daydreaming to make time go by faster.

Null's Edit: It's common for cases of extreme disassociation to alleviate some feelings of addiction. At a certain point, when he decided he needed to go cold turkey off everything, Serge basically took the bottle they'd spent their lifesavings on and hid it. Gilbert does not know where it is. No Opium for Gilbert.

III. disordered eating and "coping" with his current situation

he's been in and off in regards of that, to be honest. sometimes he's hungry, and sometimes he goes so long without eating ... a day or two at most.

he has always struggled with food, that's not a new thing for gilbert (or serge as an spectator, for that matter)

he relapsed (more like, he got worse than he already was) shortly after the accident, yet he kinda had to start eating more so his wounds would heal (bodies need calories and nutrients to do so, and while it wasn't nearly enough, he managed to do it)

he's not truly recovered, he may never be without the aid of a specialist (and they are expensive! he's got a whole lot of issues to take care of, sadly.) but he's hanging in there ...

he doesn't really have a reason to starve himself now, serge is tending to him most of the time already after all! and his reasoning of "maybe if he (auguste) is close to lose me he will appreciate me more" doesn't apply here for the most part, but he's gotten used to eat only when his body can't handle its hunger, or when he's in the right mood.

he's eating, sure, but he doesn't eat enough for someone his age and height.

also, keep in mind that he's pretty depressed, he doesn't feel the need to eat because his appetite has been affected by everything (stress, sadness, just the way he is)

it's mainly out of habit than him actively starving himself, though that also plays a part in what he does ... he's unwell.

the accident only made things worse, though he doesn't really care about weight gain (even if it's not preferred) or beauty, it's partially a need for control (everything is out of his hands and it feels WRONG) and partially because he's sad.

he's so, so sad.

IV. more thoughts about auguste and bonnard (and rosemarine)

so, auguste is out of the equation.

he started to realize that all the stuff that happened to him wasn't normal at some point. he already knew it was wrong (hell, serge told him that a billion times! of course he had to realize at some point) but he was in denial for some more time.

he feels gross, in a way. gilbert already felt weird over the whole thing because he never genuinely liked sex, he was just taught to crave the pain that came with it, he was taught that intimacy was supposed to be painful, and bloody, and disgusting ... and that he didn't have much of a saying in it, anyway.

he was a child, it obviously didn't click until now (or maybe it did, he just chose to ignore it.)

so, i went over his thoughts on auguste in a past ask but, i didn't mention that he (knowing that auguste is his dad) really feels in a different way towards him. sure, he's angry and grossed out, but he's also very affected. not only did he live in a lie for so long, but the person he needed the most (his dad) is the one who did most of the damage.

he hates him, but he can't help but imagine how things could've been if only auguste wasn't the way he is.

bonnard doesn't occupy most of his thoughts, but he doesn't particularly like him. he's not important enough to gilbert, even if he still has nightmares of the day he first touched him, of the blood, the pain, the fact that he entered survival mode upon waking up ...

yeah, no. he doesn't like bonnard, he hopes to never see him again.

rosemarine is a complicated subject, i have yet to reach the paris volume so i'm not sure if his relationship with gilbert improved in some way (i think it sort of did? he was the one who helped him and serge leave, right?) but i know for a fact that he resents him for not doing anything to protect him when he was at laconblade.

sure, auguste had threatened him (gilbert doesn't know that, though, in gilbert's eyes rose didn't do anything because he simply didn't feel like it), but rose didn't do anything about it for around 5-6 years. that makes him an accomplice.

rosemarine allowed that to happen and engaged in the abuse (physical abuse, at least) probably more than once, so ... yeah, he doesn't hate rosemarine, but he doesn't know how he can sleep at night knowing that.

sorry if i was unclear in any points! let me know if that's the case, pretty please . . . i probably spaced out at some point 🌀

#gilbert cocteau #kaze to ki no uta #kazeki recovery au #風と木の詩 #q&a #admin oliver

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

I have quite a few hang ups with Come Morning Light, the hunger games au I posted one chapter for back in November and have yet to update.

The first and foremost personal challenge is the fact that I, PCE, a certified Angst Wimp, am gonna have to kill off sooooo many of my faves. Like Hunger Games has some dark ass subject matter, kids forced to kill each other. I’m struggling with that, especially with what I have planned for Craig.

Along that same line, it’s gonna be a HUGE cast of characters, which I’ve had difficulty with in the past, it’s one of the reasons I primarily operate in oneshots. I love a good The Gangs All Here fic, but fleshing out 20+ characters is HARD. Bc a fluffy 2k word oneshot of Stan and Kyle in an awkward meet cute where there’s maybe one other character (usually kenny lmfao I’m a creature of habit) is a WHOLE different animal than a multicharacter multichapter. That’s something I had to figure out recently with TWITR, and character introduction held me up a lot in ATLCTS.

Okay this one may seem really inconsequential to a lot of people, but one thing I didn’t think about when developing this concept was the fact that there’s not really away for me to get around Stan eating meat lmao that’s one thing that over my time writing sp fanfiction has become ESSENTIAL to me characterizing that boy. I’ll probably just have him make a comment about how he could never kill animals himself WHICH BRINGS ME TO:

Kyle as our Katniss character. So if you’re familiar with my bs, every time I write Kyle, he’s inherently less angry until it’s called for, he’s very idealistic in his worldview and it takes something actually really pissing him off for him to snap. This is NOT gonna be the case here!!! This boy is ANGRY BY DEFAULT, the worlds out to get him? fuck the world right back! Plus, the entire story is gonna be from his perspective, bc I love writing Kyle, but it’s gonna take all my willpower not to turn him into my usual empathetic to a fault sweet people loving Kys.

Also, I usually tend to leave the adults mostly out of my stuff, but they’re gonna play quite the role in this. We got Garrison as Haymitch, Big Gay Al as Effie, fuckin Mr Slave as Cinna. I’ve never even WRITTEN the three of them. The dynamics gonna be fun tho.

Ofc there’s the problem of it being an adaptation too. There’s a fine line between just replacing hg characters with sp names and copying the plot, as opposed to making it your own. I do have some plot changes planned, but this is an issue I faced with We’re Gonna Sing It Even So, and that almost led me to abandon that fic when I felt like I was just plagiarizing Hadestown.

Also I’m not planning to adapt more than the first book. I reallllly couldn’t handle Kenny taking out Ike with his trap in the third one.

BUT!!! This won’t be abandoned, it’ll just be slow going!!! Ya wanna know the main reason?

Because the first idea I had for CML (other than Kyle volunteering for his little brother) was STAN AND KYLE IN THE FUCKING CAVE SCENES. A major change is that both of them are already deeply down bad, but those scenes??? Yeah no one’s playing for the cameras. I wanna fuck Stan up in the arena so bad lmfao that boy is my original sp whump muse and NATURALLY Kyle taking care of him I love that shit. Girl we gonna GET that prosthetic leg the movies left out (Ship In A Bottle Stan moment, I love that fic btw) as the Style Injury Dealer, I MUST deliver.

So, yeah, if anyone’s down, I’ll eventually pick it back up lmao.

#sry I know no one cares abt my unsolicited ramblings #also I have that tfbw continuation I’m being begged for #which I’m also struggling with #also…… #i may or may not #have another multichapter work I’m thinking about #plus I always got OJV brainrot so I’ll probably just keep posting headcanons for OrangeJuiceVerse on here instead of writing lmao #smh #south park #the hunger games #au #sp au #my shit #PastorCraigEnjoyer on ao3 #ao3