#he may be hard to draw but he's still hot no matter what form he's in

[thegmdfangirl14]

Here’s a vam-pair of my favorite dysfunctional animated vampires to hopefully make up for a lack of content......they might have not made it into the fan-art speedpaint that I submitted them to, but I’m still proud of them nonetheless! (Of course, it doesn’t hurt that Daria Cohen HERSELF actually liked my art either.... ;) )

#the vampair series #duke #missi #vampair #fangart #fan art #daria cohen #my art #I didn't get my drawing chosen but at least Daria liked my art #so it's still a win in my book #the most difficult part was designing their outfits #so sorry if bits of this look a little messy #at least I drew that bastard of a vampire kind of handsome to make up for the untold grief his nose gave me #he may be hard to draw but he's still hot no matter what form he's in #art #vampairfangart #I'm baaaccckkkk!!!

[summerlovingbaby]

Accidents Happen

tw: self harm and mentions of attempted suicide

Hitoshi heard whimpering coming from one of the spare bedroom at the end of the hall. He was on his way to the kitchen for a glass of water, because the air had grown fairly hot in the night.

He remembered when he felt like that. When the day felt so bad, and the nightmares felt so real that it made him sick. He quietly pushed open the door, careful not to make it creak, careful not to wake the two other adults just down the hall.

He smelled a smell that smelled all to family and brought back to not so distant painful memories. He felt bad for her. He had been in the girls' position not so long ago, and he remembered how each painful moment felt.

He kneeled on the side of her bed and debated waking her up. This was probably the most peaceful sleep she had in a long time, despite the fact that she was having a violent nightmare.

“Y/N.” he gently shook her awake, causing her to sit straight up in the bed, neck hairs standing up. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

“Hitoshi?” she quietly questioned, wiping the sweat off her brow. She caught the look on his face and assumed the worst. She tried to get out of bed, but her legs felt stuck to the uncomfortable plastic-like sheets. “Did something happen? Do I have to go back?”

“No..no nothing like that-”

“Is it Eri, is she okay?” she pleaded.

“She’s fine.” he urged. “It’s okay, everything is okay, I swear.” he whispered. 

He watched her face settle into a mix of stress and content, and watched her muscles grow loose. Her eyes fell on the spiderman comforter, and she wiggled her nose trying to ignore the presentiant smell. Then she looked at him, waiting for him to speak, he didn’t know what to say, so thought about what Aizawa said to him, not so many months ago.

“ I have to tell you something, and I don’t want you to be embarrased, or worried, or feel bad about it, okay?” he watched her nod sligtly. “ I think you may have had an accident.”

“ Accident?” her eyebrows moved together and her mouth formed into a line confused, before her eyes widened in realization and she grabbed the egde of the comfoter and through it off the bed, landing on the floor right next to Shinso, who payed it no mind. “ Oh god.” Her hand flew to her mouth, as she tried to come up with a reasonable excuse, only for her mind to draw a blank. “ Oh my god. I’m so sorry-”

“There’s no reason to be sorry. It was a accident.”

“ I wet the bed.” she muttered to herself. Like she was still trying to get herself to believe it. 

She had been through so much, and yet she was still behaving like a child, not only that but she had managed to embarrass herself into a person that she desperately wanted to be her friend.

“ I wet the bed.” she repeated. 

“ It’s okay, it was an accident.” Hitoshi muttered, he saw her trying hard to cry.

“I’m sorry-”

“Please don’t apologize.” he said, he really wanted to stroke her hair and rub her back, but was afraid to touch her without asking. “ It was accident. Accidents happen some time, things like this happen some time.”

“ I wet the bed.” she said again, her eyes widened as tears fell freely down her face, “ I’ll clean it up, I swear. I will-”

“ It’s okay, it’s okay, don’t worry. That doesn’t matter.” He spoke, his voice was calm. He knew the melting pot of emotions that she had to be feeling. It was clear that she was upset, but even then she was worried about fixing the mess that she made.

“ I’ll clean it up I promise, and I can sleep on the couch-”

“ Don’t worry about that right now. How about you go to the bathroom and clean up a little, and I’ll take care of this-”

“ You don’t have to-”

“ I insisit.”

“ You can’t tell him, you can’t-”

“ I won’t, I promise. Now go shower, I’ll be here when you get back.”

20 minutes later, she came back with a fresh pair of pajamas, and a hanful of dirty ones. Hitoshi had given her a pair, and they were much to big, the t shirt stopping mid thigh, and the boxer shorts hanging of her hips. The socks were mismatched in a unironic way. It would have been an unusally funny sight, if it weren’t for the fact that it was clear that she had been crying in the shower.

“ I didn’t know where to-”

“ It’s okay, I’ll take them on my way out.” he whispered. “ I gave you an extra blanket, in case you got cold.”He was always cold when he first moved in. The doctors guessed it was the years of malnutrition and about every diffancy known to man. “ Bed’s all yours.” he motioned to the bed. 

“ You won’t tell him-”

“ No.” he spoke plainly. Like he was talking to a mirror. He would know exactly what she felt like, he was in her position not more than a year ago. “ Are you sure you don’t want to talk to him-”

“ Yes.” she said quickly. “ Please.”

“ Is there a reason?”

“ I don’t want him to get rid of me, if I’m too much trouble he’ll get rid of me.” she spoke, it was a manic mutter. His face softened, he knew that desperation, that need to be perfect that want to stay safe, she wanted to be safe. That need to not be too much, to not be sent away.

Hitoshi carefully walked towards her, and pointed, before asking if he could have a seat. Y/N hesitated before nodding softly and looking away. She was tired, that itself was clear, the prominent eyebags gave her away.

“ He won’t get rid of you, I promise.”

“ How do you know, when you’re so...” she searched her mind for the word. Settled on one, opened her mouth to speak, decided it was offensive and didn’t say anything else.

“ It’s okay, You can say it.”

“ Good. You’re so good.”

“When Aizawa had first taken me in I was.... I was alot like you.”

“ Broken?”

Hitoshi shook his head and extended his hand to the bedside tissue, so he could wipe the tears out of her face.

“ I was fine, but one night after Mr. Mic took me out to the store I saw my mothers husband. At the time I was fine. I was a bit scared, yeah, but I thought I was fine. But Aizawa ended up having to wake me up. Turns out I wet the bed. Right through the streets all over the matress.”

“ I hardly even know him and I really don’t want to disappoint him.”

“ I think he’ll be more happy that you reached out to him. He really just wants to help, y’know?”

“ I don’t want him to send me away.”

“ He won’t. I know he doesn’t seem like it, but he is very forgiving and kind. He just wants to help, y’know.” he spoke. Y/N seemed to burry herself in a bundle of inescapble slelf pity. “The first night I got her, I drunk all his alcohol threw up over his balcony before taking a knife from his kitchen and trying to kill myself.” he said like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Y/N wanted to laugh, he always seemed so put together and calm. There is no way a boy like him, used to be so broken. So unfixable.

“ Yeah right.”

“See.” he pulled up the hem of his sleves and saw a long scar running along his wrist. Y/N’ s mouth fell open and she chewed on her bottom lip.

“But you seem so... okay.”

“ It took some time to get there, but I’m getting to be okay.” he shrugged. “ You’ll get there to.” he added. “ You’re doing better than I was, you haven’t thrown up over the balcony yet so.”

“ When did it stop?” she asked, looking up at staring at the wall. “ The bed wetting?”

“ I don’t remeber the day-”

“Why did it stop.”

“ I don’t know, they just did. It still happens sometimes, maybe once a month or so.” he whispered. “ Talking to him helped. He’s really good about that stuff. I know he doesn’t seem like it but he’s comforting in a weird way. He always knew how to make me feel better.”

“ I can’t-”

“ He won’t get rid of you.”

“ Becase it’s embarrasing, I’m ebarrased. I feel so pathetic, like a baby.”

“ I get it. Boy do I get it, but not talking about it, it only hurts you.”

“ Eri has never wet the bed-”

“ It’s a trauma response, a normal truma response that alot of people have.An that doesn’t make you any more pathetic, or give you any reason to be embarrased.”

“ I would be really embarrased if I threw up over the balcony.” she shrugged and glanced up to look for his approval to he smiling and bitting back a laugh.

“ Really funny.” he laughed. “ You’re really funny.”

Y/N wore a ghost of her smile as Hitoshi waved her goodbye and started to leave. He picked up the pile of laundry and made it halfway before she called out to him.

“ I’ll think about it. Talking to him I  mean.”

He nodded, that’s all he could ask of her was to think about getting help. Forcing her to talk would have been bad, so she planned on not going back to sleep, and thinking about it.

“ If you need anything, I’m just down the hall.”

And with that, he closed the door behind him, leaving Y/N with a half smile, and thoughts of getting help.

P2

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#mha #mha x reader #mha x reader angst #mha x listener #dadzawa #dadzawa x reader #aizawa shouta #aizawa shōta #aizawa x y/n #aizawa x child reader #mha hitoshi #bnha shinso hitoshi #mha shinso hitoshi #hitoshi shinsō #bhna #bhna fluff #bhna fanfiction #mha x reader fluff #mha angst #mha anime

[nightcolorz]

I must confess something, I do not understand white Vox lol is it just his VA? He may be just a TV with a body but his eyes seem to be drawn as east asian and thats his most prominent human feature. Majority of the time I see people draw him as a human they actually erase his real eye shape to (I assume) make him look more white. There's no real canon so people can hc whatever but I am so intrigued by how people are interpreting him white. I promise there are nasty tech/media ceos that overwork their employees all over the world... maybe im reading too much into it because the show is otherwise verrrry western-centric. Just curious how you view it, you're definitely in the majority and i realize people like me are the outliers but just saw your post and had to ask (if you didnt mind sharing).

Anon is referring to this post btw for context: https://www.tumblr.com/nightcolorz/746235899544813568/my-hot-take-is-that-i-think-that-a-vox-human?source=share

Anon ur hella polite and ik u got good intentions so I was stressing a little over how to respond without invalidating ur headcanon cuz like, I never want to be the guy saying “this character is white and u can’t headcanon them as a racial minority” cuz that’s pretty shitty no matter what. We definitely have different takes but when I’m explaining my interpretation I don’t wanna sound like I’m trying to boss ppl around and say there’s only one way u can see these characters. This is just my personal interpretation and I was being funny in my og post implying that my interpretation is the “correct” way. But since u asked I’ll explain my reasoning why I (and prob other ppl) see Vox as extremely white lol.

I don’t take Vox’s physical appearance into account at all when thinking about his ethnicity cuz in a show were everyone is pretty racially ambiguous design wise Vox is one of the most ambiguously humanoid characters, like my guy literally has a tv for a head with eyes and a mouth, and that’s it. I don’t see ur point about his eyes at all tbh, to me Vox’s vaguely slanted eyes have always come off more like a devious squint than an ethnic feature. Even still I don’t read slanted eyes as Asian automatically so it never occurred to me.

I don’t read as Vox as white bcus of his VA being white or him being a tech bro billionaire (but ig they play a part). I read Vox as white mostly bcus I see his background as a former religious extremist/cult leader from the 50s with a skill in life and in death for male manipulating ppl and using them for his own gain as very white and western. (I got this info from his official reference sheet for auditioning va’s, here that is)

His capitalistic ideals and business practices r meant to mirror (extremely white) billionaires like Musk and Bezos, which adds to my perception of him. Of course being a billionaire tech guy is not a western white man exclusive thing, but I feel that if we were meant to perceive Vox as someone not from America that would definitely be coded or in some way communicated. And I say this with as little ill will as possible, but for me I wouldn’t want to perceive Vox as an East Asian tech bro billionaire specifically bcus there r negative stereotypes and connotations attached there. East Asian men have a history of being negatively stereotyped as corrupt tech business owners. I don’t think u are trying to imply those stereotypes with ur head canon (frankly it’s hard to avoid negative stereotypes in fiction a lot of the time bcus stereotypes encompass such a vast range of things that its hard to take them all into account). But regardless, it’s smth we should try to be conscious of.

Anyways, I also usually take these character’s personalities and values, self image, etc into account when im thinking about race, bcus race is more then color, and especially for characters with lives and personalities based in much less tolerant time periods, it’s significant to consider how race would play a role in forming the way they navigate the world. Based on how Vox behaves I can’t see him as being racially marginalized. I’m gonna compare Vox to alastor a little cuz alastor is canonically creole and I think he serves as a good reference for someone I perceive as not white in comparison to Vox and how I think he differs and contradicts the experiences of a racial minority.

Vox to me comes off as someone who thinks he is entitled to power, respect, privilege, etc, which is a very standard type of attitude for a white man who was alive in the 1950s to have. He’s very emotionally immature and volatile, doesn’t seem to concern much over his public image beyond petty dick measuring contests with alastor (he regularly publicly has angry tantrums and doesn’t break a sweat over how this will affect his status). He obviously cares about it (scolding Valentino for embarrassing him and such) but he doesn’t seem to worry about loss of reputation in any sort of real way. I get the impression that Vox has always had at least a standard amount of social standing and privilege and can’t see a life for himself without the fundamental privilege he feels owed there to support him. He’s basically a man baby, a man baby who still manages to garner power and respect effortlessly (it comes naturally to him) while remaining whiny and insecure. Very white man of him! White man behavior!

in comparison, Alastor, (who I do not read as white) is always frantically clinging to his composed self image and his power as if it will slip away from him if he loosens his grasp at all. He has an extremely firm grip on his composure to the point where he never allows anyone to see him slip at all, let alone frown (despite his mental health and emotional well being being equally fragile as Vox’s). Alastor understands deeply how little the world owes him and how difficult and unreliable his acquiring of status actually is. He is borderline neurotic about retaining his power and staying on top. Despite the smile, Alastor is always defensive and fearful, picking fights with anyone he thinks might be a threat like a small dog or a prey animal would. Meanwhile, Vox conducts himself like a man with nothing to loose. I feel like Vox grew up with money and doesn’t know poverty or a lack of privilege in any intimate way that would drive him to guard it in anyway beyond flippant. To Vox power, status, and privilege are inherent. Same can’t be said for alastor.

tldr in conclusion Vox’s brand of bad feels very specific to a white man, alongside his emotional immaturity and his attitude, mindset, and behavior. This is why I see him as white asf, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong or it’s in anyway less correct to headcanon him as a different race. That’s just how I see him. Thank u for sending the ask anon it was pretty interesting to write! Have a good day! (btw i love Vox he’s one of my fav character lol me calling him a white as shit privileged entitled man baby douchebag is out of love and all I find interesting and fun about him)

#hazbin hotel #hazbin #alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #vox #hazbin hotel vox #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox #vox hazbin

[aerkame]

I’m curious what the others finfolk forms look like, what kinda tails and colors do they have, markers, etc. I’m so excited for the au!

I am not feeling well enough to really draw so I will just give descriptions instead! I'll be sure to draw everyone at some point though, but if you want me to ping (or just message) you or anyone else just private message me or let me know in replies.

__________________________________________________________

For all neighbors minus Home:

Each and every neighbor will grow claws, teeth, increased height, increased strength, and webbed hands when fully transformed. As for clothes, they're designed to change with their form.

Wally Darling

Wally may still be the shortest of the neighbors, but he's still quite tall when compared to normal puppets (most finmen are huge regardless). When he comes off as a normal-looking puppet, he wears a blue glass colored (blue glass is a color, it is my favorite color-) clothing, or sometimes loose-fitting beach clothes if he feels like relaxing. He often keeps a red shell pendant around his neck area and a black single earring on his right ear.

When Wally is a finman however, his yellow felt turns to scales that range from yellows, purples, teals, and different shades of blue. His ears become thick and finned, each end going up into a small S-shaped curl. Underneath the clothing, his body is covered in soft red swirling and spiraling markings, something you can he on his cheeks. Unlike the finwomen, finmen don't turn into mermaids/mermen, so he does not have a tail at all and he instead grows various fins on his body, all very colorful. Oh, and don't forget the fangs and claws...those are pretty sharp.

Barnaby

Barnaby is one of the taller finmen, but not the tallest. You can usually find him wearing shorts, sandals, shell necklaces, and a sunhat. It's just so darn hot sometimes so don't expect to see him in a shirt really. If anything he'll probably be under a shady area or relaxing in some cool water.

While he does already have teeth and claws, they are pretty dull until he transforms, having his teeth become more shark-like and claws much sharper than anyone else's. However, Barnaby is the only one here who does not grow scales at all. Instead that blue felt skin will turn into something far more smoother and paler in color almost becoming grey but not quite grey. The spots all over his body stay of course, but they become darker and more larger, creating marbled patterns. Not only is Barnaby the only one without scales, but he is the only one to grow a tail and keep his legs. The once small fluffy tail turns into a strong shark-like one, being capable of causing someone a concussion or head trauma if he really swung hard enough with it.

Sometimes everyone suspects he isn't a finman, but even if Barnaby wasn't, everyone would still love the big guy.

Howdy

Being a fisherman has its perks. One being that it tends to be a good workout, another being that you can get all kinds of stuff from the ocean. That being said, Howdy is a giant when compared to the others. In his normal form, the fisherman has medium long blue hair that's often slicked back or just braided all under his hat. You'd think that running a shop and being a fisherman would leave little time for this man to tidy up his clothes but you'd be wrong. Everything remains completely clean no matter the weather, it's almost scary. Even the shell pendant he wears on his apron is constantly shining.

Obviously having double the legs and arms leaves him with double the amount of claws to tear someone up with. As a finman, Howdy's height becomes outright terrifying to anyone he meets. Forget the scary claws and fangs, his height alone is enough to scare the fear of God into anyone.

The colors of Howdy's scales match himself much like it does with Wally and the others. Green scales fade from blues to teals and tiger-like stripes decorate his body, leaving oval spirals on his cheeks.

Eddie

Probably the friendliest captain out there with the coat to match! Often times Eddie will be wearing his white captain's coat and hat, having a shell pendant pinned to the black suit he wears under. He always stays tidy, keeping his red hair slicked back under his hat.

As a finman, Eddie will also grow in size. This is when his usual friendly appearance turns more scary to some. Being large and having a giant captain's coat squaring your shoulders can look intimidating. Along that, Eddie's hair tends to get more rougher and slightly wavy, so he lets it down every once in a while.

Frank

Frank is the only one that wasn't a finman before moving in on the island, having been a normal puppet before. He still prefers to remain as his normal puppet self on most days unless it's rainy or stormy. Usually he is wearing vests, casual clothes, and colors that are muted in color, preferring to keep the shell pendant he has on a butterfly bow, keeping the bow as a reminder of his old life.

In the rare times that he decides to be more fin-like, the only things about Frank that change is that he grows teal, purple, and grey scales, square-ish finned ears, squared swirls, and fangs.

Julie

Being a finwoman (or mermaid) has it's perks.

Julie will on most days wear light colored fluffy dresses with thick high sandals, a large sunhat, and a shell necklace to match. If not a dress, then she'd be happy to wear anything good for the beach so she can go ahead and jump in the water at any time.

As a mermaid, Julie transforms her legs into a long and strong tail, being just as strong as finmen (no really, you do NOT want to get hit with her tail). Her scales often reflect the dresses she usually wears, which are deep shades of coral reds, pinks, oranges, and yellows. The fins at the end of her tail are wide and flowing, sometimes she'll even wrap herself up in them for fun.

The ears differ slightly from the others as they appear more softer and fluffy with light pink swirls and sparkles dusting her face.

Sally

Sally is sometimes nicknamed Sally Scarlet for several reasons. One reason being the clothing she wears. Everything is always extravagant or just screams passion, having everything in shades of red and black.

Sally is the only one who is almost always in her mermaid form. No really, she even has a part of her house with an indoor pool that leads to the ocean because she just doesn't feel like getting out of the water yet. Her tail is much longer than Julie's but more slim and much sharper, some scales being so sharp they can be flung or used as throwing knives. The weapon tail is made up of blood red scales with speckled black and gold scales scattered on her body.

She often wears a golden crown around her already existing crown (she's a star so duh) and dark makeup to compliment her scales. Of course, she painted her claws black to match. Dramatic...

Poppy

Poppy is probably the most colorful out of the neighbors, having literally every color in the rainbow on her. You can usually find her outside gardening with Julie, wearing nothing (because she has feathers) or just wearing a light colored shawl with a matching sunhat. She often carries her shell or clips it to a shawl.

However, Poppy is a little bit different like Barnaby when it comes to her original form, but no one questions it really. Like the other mermaids, Poppy will form a tail consisting of the rainbow, but the rest of her body becomes much larger and longer, resembling something closer to a serpent. The feathers soon turn into long spikes and sharp scales that could easily cut through steel. Her wings become giant fins and her beak grows a sharp curved end. She doesn't transform ever much like Frank due to her scaring herself and others sometimes.

Home

It is known that Home has a physical body, but no one other than Wally has talked to him. The only time anyone ever gets a glimpse of Home is when a shell is being given to a neighbor. Large clawed and black scaly hands reach out from the dark whirlpool to take the shell and imbued his magic into it before it's given back.

Sorry for any spelling errors, I'm a bit tired right now.

#welcome home #welcome home au #welcome home finfolk au #finfolk #au #welcome home wally darling #wally darling #welcome home barnaby b beagle #barnaby b beagle #welcome home howdy pillar #howdy pillar #welcome home frank frankly #frank frankly #welcome home eddie dear #eddie dear #julie joyful #welcome home julie joyful #welcome home poppy partridge #poppy partridge #welcome home sally starlet #sally starlet

[thecameronchronicles]

Different For You

TW: Smut. Language. Mentions of blood and a fight.

SUMMARY: Not willing to give him the time of day because you never saw him as anything more than a liability, that all changes the night he defends you and you begin to see him in a new light…

WORD COUNT: 1200

Requested:

Anonymous requested: 

Hey love! Could you do one with Rafe where he’s always trying to get you to go on a date with him but you always blow him off because whatever reason I just can’t think of one until one day someone starts spreading a rumor at a party (at toppers house maybe) about you maybe that you blow them or something and they call you a whore and rafe finds out and beats the dude right then and there so then you went upstairs to toppers bedroom to help him and clean him up and you hook up on his bed 

Different For You

Cocaine addict. Hot head. Aggressor. Sadist. Masochist. Privileged. 

Take a pick and any were a reason you would never date Rafe Cameron. No matter how hard he tried, or how often. Which WAS often. Any chance he could, he would compliment your figure and follow through with some cheesy one-liner you could guarantee he overheard from some old movie or maybe even Topper. But no matter his attempts at humorous tries, you knew better to to even entertain the idea of being anything to Rafe but a distant crush. 

"He broke my fucking nose!" Someone you had arrived with earlier in the night brushed past you with unintentional ignorance, holding his injury, as you moved towards the scene of the crime after having avoided that same boy as he'd become too handsy after you rejected his advances. At least Rafe kept his distance. Even if he would return the next day. He was still somehow chivalrous. 

"What the fuck, Rafe?!" Topper scolded. 

"You heard him! Calling her a whore because she had enough common sense to not let him touch her-" You realized by these words, this fight, had been because of you. He had defended you. Without knowing you would see or hear him. And you hated how this simple act of defense had made your panties slick with arousal and your lip captive beneath a bite. 

"I don't care! You said you were done with this shit, man. We aren't in high school anymore. You said she even made you wanna be better. So maybe you should find a girl who will ACTUALLY fuck you so you can work out some od those frustrations. Because in case you haven't noticed, she isn't interested!" Topper spoke incorrectly as you may have given that illusion, but those feelings had altered completely by now. You no longer saw him as a single dimensional narcissist. You saw he actually cared about you... 

"I'm not fucking apologizing-" Rafe groaned as the door opened to reveal you to him. 

"Maybe you should..." You teased as he would clench his jaw, further proof of this change in him. The Rafe you knew prior to this would have lept at the chance to say he 'defended your honor'. But instead, he didn't want to hurt you in having to explain why he had to. That cruel word he believed you didn't deserve. Especially with how hard to get you played against him. 

"Here...I saw you slink up here nursing 'em..." You motioned to his knuckles as he would shrug it off, allowing you to see the depths of his wounds. 

"It's fine-" 

"Would you just sit still?" His eyes followed you in analysis as you brought a first aid kit from Topper’s kitchen and brought it to the bedroom, once finding him behind this room. 

"So what did he say exactly?" 

"He was drunk, it doesn't matter." 

"You're bleeding over some drunk comment? Doubt Rafe Cameron cared that much..." You pushed, wanting to get some form of a reaction from him. 

"I've bled for less. But don't worry. I’m not expecting anything, I got the message." 

"The message?" He nodded, now on his feet and halfway towards the door. 

"You're not into me. It's fine. Really. But I'm not gonna push it anymore, so you can-" 

"I want you to." His eyes narrowed. A scoff of disbelief shared in the space between you as he would draw his hands to his temples. 

"You....you want me to? After rejecting me for the better part of our shared adolescence and you-" 

"You defended me, Rafe. Nobody has ever done that. They usually just do what he did and walk away-" 

"Asshole's lucky he got to walk away...should've made sure he could say anything about you at all-" You silenced him by moving across the space and kissing him. Those full lips that were always annoyingly tempting were now no longer shrouded in mystery. But they had become something of a new addiction. Something that worsened as he kissed you back. An arm wrapped to pull you to him and the other forced beneath your thigh would lift you into a straddle. 

"Off." You ordered as he pulled the fabric of his shirt over his head revealing that perfectly toned physique to you. He led your fingers to trace where your eyes had fallen until pulling you closer to him. 

"I'm not asking for permission so you better stop me now if you-" He offered this half dominating warning as you took the hand at your hip and laid his fingers into your mouth. Sucking beneath doe eyes targeting his now blown wide with lust. 

"I don't want you to stop..." 

"You better unless you want it from behind...I want to be sweet to you, but you’re making it hard to not just-" 

"And I want you to fuck me..." He scoffed in furthering disbelief. 

"Jesus-" 

"No? Maybe I'll see if HE will take me up on my offer-" You teased abandoning him as he brought you harder onto his thighs before positioning you in such a way to where he could take his fingers inside of your panties. 

"If you don't stop me, it means nobody else will get to touch you. I don't share. And-" 

"I'm yours, Rafe. Now let’s make it official and let me prove it. Take off your clothes." He obliged, with your help, until nothing remained but your lingerie and his boxers. 

"How do you want it?" 

"Everyway." He groaned. 

"You're killing me..." 

"Don't worry... I'll take care of you, Rafe...my Rafe-" You taunted as he nodded. 

"Say it again." 

"MY Rafe-" You were taken onto your back as he pulled you level with his hips. 

"You're mine now baby...gonna take me nice n deep aren't you? Show me how grateful you are?" 

"Mmmm...yes...." You moaned to the tease of his cock before the final penetration would send you into an immediate arch. 

"Don't be gentle Rafe...please...pull my hair...call me a whore-" 

"You aren't." 

"For you, I will be.' He smacked your ass, the echo drowning out your gasp as he quickened his thrusts. 

Time began to blur as you were taken in depth and compassion, his lips and hands having been well acquainted with every inch of your body had craved since he first met you. And you allowed him to overdose on jt now. 

Orgasm after orgasm and dirty words followed in suit before it became too much. Overstimulation and edging having left you both in unified tremors, you would eventually collapse after all tensions and lust had been exercised. At least for now... 

"Will you go out with me now?" 

"Ummm...no..." 

"What?!" You straddled him.. 

" I have no interest in going out anywhere...now coming? THAT can be compromised." His brow raised. 

"Oh? Didn't get enough?" 

"I don't know if I can..." 

"Only one way to find out..."

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @obxxrxfes @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @rafesbae @belcalis9503

#rafecameron x reader #rafecameronfanfiction #rafecameron #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #outerbanks #obx #outer banks smut #obx fanfiction #obxsmut #outer banks

[cyphertripping]

I’d like to think that Omen is an insomniac/doesn’t really sleep. Can I get some headcanons or a drabble of Omen going to the roof when he can’t sleep and finding gn!reader by themselves because they also can’t sleep and they just chill and watch the stars together?

ty for answering my call for omen recs. this was actually so cute and i may have made it a bit too emo but also fluffy.

Stargazing (Omen x reader)

Word Count: 642

Slight angst, fluff

The night is quiet and dark, as it always is. Omen stands in his room, contemplating nothing in particular. His new form doesn’t require much sleep, if at all— he hasn’t tried to test it honestly. Sometimes, time just… blurs into itself.

Knitting helps with the spasms— there’s not enough of him left to call them muscle spasms. But other nights the pain is too much to think of counting the stitches, row after row. 

Tonight, the pain is not so bad. The voices, though. Those never leave. The souls he’s taken, or perhaps they were souls that once mattered to him. Omen can’t recall. 

He used to wander the headquarters at the dead of night when he had nothing else to do. Walking helped quiet the voices. But after he unintentionally ran into a half awake Phoenix and almost caused him to burn down the common room, he figured it might be best for him to stick to his room. 

But tonight, something draws him away, to the roof. As he steps onto the large, flat roof, Omen feels a sense of calm wash over him. The night sky is so vast and quiet above, its calm reaches down into him. The stars are so cold and distant from this view— nothing he could harm. Not even his untethered form could reach them, he thinks. 

“They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

A voice shocks Omen from his reverie. His head snaps to look for the source, landing on you. You smile an uncertain smile— he supposed that’s better than most of what he gets from the other protocol members.

“They look cold.” He finally answers. 

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “They’re actually the opposite. The hottest stars are over five times as hot as our sun.”

Omen watches as you look up at the stars, clearly enamored. The way you look up at them… he almost envies it. He realizes he can’t remember the feeling of the sun on his skin, on his body.

Not wanting to dwell on the thoughts, Omen turns to you. He finds himself fixating on your arms— then immediately catches himself for having stared at your arms. Admittedly, you do have quite nice arms. They’re lean and muscular, a few lighter marks from scars long faded. (He wonders if you have an interest in crafts…)

“Do you come here… often?” he asks you, painfully aware of how cheesy the words sound. Though, perhaps more so if it had come from someone less like him.

You laugh. “A bit. Can’t sleep,” you shrug. “What about you?”

Omen shrugs, mimicking you. It feels… good. Human. Sitting here, talking with you. 

“I do not often sleep. Not anymore,” he says. You look at him, empathy in your gaze. 

You don’t press, which he appreciates further. The two of you just lie down in silence. Omen images that the tile of the roofing under him is still the slightest bit warm from soaking in the sun’s rays, that if he presses his worn fingers to them he’ll feel that intoxicating heat of the sun. 

“Do you want to hear more about the stars?” You ask.

Omen surprises himself by speaking before he can think further about it. “I’d love to.” Further to his surprise, he realizes the sentiment is genuine. 

There was a time where he had thought the only way he could find fulfillment was through the stealing of souls from others. That the sensation he felt in battle was peace.

You light up. “See those stars there— that bright cluster? That’s a part of Ursa Major. Actually we predict the formation is gonna change in the future…”

But maybe this is another kind of peace— lying here, listening to you speak, the stars glinting in the darkness.

If Omen tries hard, he thinks he can feel their warmth again. 

#omen x reader #omen x reader fic #x gn reader #valorant x reader #valorant x reader request #x reader requests #omen fic #reader insert request #reader insert #reader fic #gn reader

[court-jobi]

Love found the Captain

Pairing: Captain Rex x Sawyer (Human!Slicer OC)

Words: 821

Ratings: Teen/Up Audience

Warnings: none

A/N: Love found Captain Rex, and it had no intention of leaving-- even the heart of a soldier like him deserves something to melt him. Slicer Sawyer Lyubava is cunning, and charming, and clearly caf-addicted, but no less loyal than her darling Captain deserves. She has plenty secrets of her own; but her feelings towards her hero in blue-painted armor is not one she hides easily.

Enjoy a taste of what's to come in Rex: Heart of a Soldier, coming soon to an A03 near you...

Summary:   Sawyer is spitfire in a cool, calm, collected shell... but whose patience only lasts for so long. If there's one thing she will not stand for, it's these cruel, stuffy politician types who don't respect the Clones or the Army they serve together. It's not just a sticking point for her sense of Clone activism, but also a point of contention between her and the Captain she's been helplessly pining for-- a matter that's not unreciprocated. This is the life he's used to and doesn't see another way for himself... but there may be one he hasn't thought of yet. If he'd only be honest about that warm feeling in his chest, and take the win that's offered to him-- in the form of the 501st's resident darling slicer who's laying her heart on the line.

Read on AO3

The Captain's love came in hot, no other words fit for that satisfying sensation that warmed his blood. It was not the same as the fire in his chest after a hard-fought advancement, or the swelling pride he'd feel after winning a wrestling match to burn off steam… but it was the invisible rush of soothing heat that sank into his muscles as she laughed deep in her chest at something that struck her funny. He counted himself lucky enough to hear it over the din of voices in the mess hall. It was the blue flame coming to life that rushed over him when she'd look his way, smile, and call him by name rather than rank. 

Rex's love came with unbidden strength, like the same practiced code to 'honor and protect' as any good soldier would. Though he was trained for calm, level-headed leadership on and off the field, he came to realize his strength could come from moments he'd taken with this newfound angel like it had in the first camaraderie of his brothers on Kamino. Unlike his Jedi counterparts, Rex viewed this strong feeling akin to passion and commitment. The supposed taboo label of 'attachment' inspired purpose for someone like him rather than manifesting an unhealthy fleeting distraction or weakness. What he felt for her was anything but half-hearted; it was fierce.

Rex’s love came steady. It grew with every day, an unmoving presence once it settled in his heart. This wasn’t a sparking, unstable live wire, or a flurry of emotions in the pit of his stomach– but a balm protecting a still-healing wound. An assurance of safety, a promise that kept him going when everything else around him was crashing to the Nine Hells. When everyday is a reminder of war, that anchor of her was a blessing.

Rex's love came softly. His steady, armored hands now sought after skin for comfort rather than the commando handguns he draws. He found himself sharing carefully chosen words spoken in tender confidence when they were alone. Gentleness seeps out from him as he takes her hand in his, bowing a head to hers after a hard day, and allowing himself this one joy the day she brought her lips up to his cheek. One soft, quiet thing in the midst of loud, chaotic war where he could just stand in her space and admire something so shockingly pretty and know that one moment was his.

Love found Rex, and had no intention of leaving. 

Running in the back of his sharp mind was the memory of the first and every time that he caught himself falling for her just a little bit more, keeping track of stolen moments like the tally marks he wore for his fallen brethren. Each time she’d call for him, he’d always answer- her name fast off his lips– in the same way he'd address his General out of rote habit or disassembling his blaster in record time.

He supposed he always loved her, just didn't have a name for it before. He’d not been brave enough to utter it yet...

Now, Rex wanted to kick himself because she kriffing beat him to it.

Sawyer Lyubava stands before the Captain full of righteous anger, breaking at the seams to make him understand exactly why she'd not held her quick tongue at the offending party in the other room, and begged to know why he stepped in as her restraint. Those beautiful eyes, now brimming with shaken tears, mirrored the storms he'd watched for hours from the safety of Kamino’s white hallways. Even now, he relished the look of lightning in them.

Ever the heart of gold in the midst of wartime, this brilliant girl before him ached when careless acquaintances took to demeaning terms for a man such as him... as a mindless clone rather than a living breathing soul, who happened to be one soldier among millions just like him. She’d fought this good fight for weeks now whenever ‘the talk’ came up in conversation, and was set to fight every day to make sure he knew his worth, and that the entire galaxy did, too- even if the protective outbursts would paint her in a poor light. 

//If someone ever talks that way to you again and I'm in earshot, I'm letting that bastard have it– and you're going to let me.//

It was what she believed at her core, and she made no effort to hide that declaration of love, how deeply she cared. The last thing she cared about was something so harmless as speaking out of turn.

And in that moment where staggered breaths left her in hiccups, laying out her loyalty for him to do with it whatever he would, Rex answered her without hesitation,

"That's exactly why I step in. There’s a reason why I stop you, Sawyer.”

 I love you too much for anything less.

#R:HOAS #masterlist #my oc #my work #captain rex #captain rex x oc #clone wars fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #captain rex my beloved #rexbava

[j-graysonlibrary]

The Xiang Chronicles: Book Four Chapter 2

Title: The Xiang Chronicles: Book Four

Author: Jay Grayson

Word Count: 118k

Genres: Fantasy, adventure, drama, LGBT+

Available on: my website

Synopsis: In order to save the world from the continuous subjugation and potential annihilation at the hands of Tiandi, hard lines must be drawn. The Great Spirits that were imprisoned ages ago must be unsealed and awakened, no matter the consequences.

The players are divided—those who stand blindly with Tiandi, such as Xiang Merra and her disciples versus those who want to tear the system down and give the power back to the people. Even a few of the most religious Lords change their minds when they learn the truth of the world—that Tiandi is no more than a dictator with no love in his heart.

It is up to the last, real Xiang and the ill-fated Chaaya to put everything they have into tearing God from his throne and creating new possibilities for the future.

Full chapter 2 under the cut

Chapter II:

The bog was hot, humid, and smelled rancid but it was not an area people just stumbled upon easily. Not even many spirits were around but Gong still completely sealed himself up so that nothing could detect his energy. He was probably being more cautious than necessary—paranoid even—but he felt there was no precaution too extreme in this case.

He only had a day, at most, to figure something out as he doubted his brothers’ “plans” would be especially elegant or complex.

Gong swatted a few flies away from his face as he surveyed the area.

Clear, save the incessant insects and occasional frog.

So, he took a stick and began to draw into the soft, wet dirt, hoping the signal would still translate. He knew it like the back of his hand now and he drew the shapes and letters without having to think much at all. The sigil was then encased in a circle and he stood at the base.

“Oh, Sha-parvati, I plead thy case: of loneliness I call to you, a wish on a star to be beloved, in Shakti’s name, I ask for your grace.”

It always felt odd to speak an incantation such as that, given his position, but it never failed to immediately bring forth the woman he needed to see. She had taught it to him for that reason. Sending letters or attempting to communicate through secretive, passive means was too risky.

As counterintuitive as it may have seemed at first, meeting face to face was actually the best way—so long as they took care of the where and the when.

The symbol in the mud glowed, faintly, and a form rose from the filth. Luckily, as she became more tangible, she was free of the bog water and any unique organisms within. She did pick a sprig of something out of her hair and flick it to the side, however.

“Interesting meeting place, Gong,” she opened with and chuckled, “And so soon after our last get together. Something must have happened.”

Parvati was always exceptionally observant, something Gong both treasured about her and feared. So far, he had no reason to hide things from her so it had yet to be used against him.

Although, he supposed he could consider their first meeting to be a time when he faced the brunt of her insight.

It had been a little over three hundred years now and, still, she had been the only Mistress of Shadow that Gong had actually spoken to. He had seen Sha-kali once, in a fight, but she did not have much to say. Really, it was quite rare to run into any of the Mistresses. Their Chaaya, yes, all the time, but the Mistresses themselves? Quite infrequent.

So, when Gong and Jun had joined Xiang Soren after the untimely demise of his disciples, they were floored to see Parvati. To be fair, she had also been surprised to see them.

“Heavenly Princes?” She had greeted while standing with her Chaaya. Some young woman with a wrathful fire in her eyes. “What a delight to finally meet you.”

“Soren, stay calm…” Jun warned the Xiang who was all but frothing at the mouth at the sight of the Chaaya.

“Shall I kill your other two disciples?” the Chaaya goaded, having to be held back by Parvati. “Then the rest of the Heavenly Princes can descend and I can snuff them all out at once!”

Soren all but attacked Jun to get to her. His other disciples took fighting stances in front of him.

“We will take care of her,” the Enlil disciple assured him.

“She will not fell us,” the Agni disciple added.

“No…” Soren said in a ragged breath, “She will have no power to do anything.”

When he began to siphon the miasma straight from the Chaaya, she growled and charged, ready to have their final battle in that moment. Jun, fruitlessly, attempted to shield the other disciples but the Chaaya was like a feral animal. Gong was sure he was witnessing the end of them all.

But then he blinked and was somewhere entirely different. Somewhere dark.

He spun around until he was faced with Parvati who grinned at him. She was perched on some rock, leering down over him.

“Where have you taken me?” Gong demanded.

“Hush, you are in no danger.” She rested her chin in her hand, tucking her beard in. “I just wanted to speak with you.”

“So you can put some spell on me?”

The Mistress rolled her eyes. “No, you just…you seem…less Tiandi-like than I expected. You seem to have a real sense of self.”

“I am my own man,” Gong responded earnestly without meaning to. When he realized he was being swayed into what could be a real conversation with the Mistress, he became more defensive. “But I am also part of Tiandi.”

Parvati frowned. “Do you know how us Mistresses are made?” When he did not answer, she continued on, “We are all a part of Shakti. She bleeds out her frustration, her pain, her hate, and we take form. We are her daughters and we are her.”

Gong’s brow furrowed. “Why are you telling me this…?”

She pushed herself off of her perch and stepped closer. “Because, I grow tired of Shakti’s methods. She recently gave birth to another Mistress and that calmed her erratic moods but I know it will only happen again. And again and again. Then your Tiandi will make another Prince for every Mistress and, before we know it, there will be hundreds of us, all having forgotten why we even exist.  Is that not pitiful to you?”

He had never thought that deeply about any of it before. In fact, the thought of the battle between Tiandi and Shakti becoming endless had never occurred to him. He had always assumed it would have a natural end. That, one day, they would make their last Xiang and they would herald the world into a brighter future—one without Shakti.

But, before he could respond, he was yanked from the strange place and Jun was face to face with him, clearly worried. “Oh, thank Tiandi, you are alright.”

The last battle between Soren and the Chaaya was not far off from that point but, a few years after the fact, there was a strange rumor of the Chaaya being spotted in a small town in Agni. It was impossible since she had been killed but Gong went to investigate regardless.

What he found, when he thought back on that day, changed his life forever.

It was not the Chaaya but her twin sister. Her and their younger siblings—a sister and two brothers. Not all were related by blood but the Chaaya and her twin had been caring for them anyway.

More surprising than that was Parvati who was staying with them even though her Chaaya had died. She had no reason to be there and she certainly had no reason to be keeping the kids fed and protected.

Of course Gong had immediately assumed she was grooming one, if not all, of them to be the next Chaaya but he realized he could not detect any miasma with them. Not even on Parvati.

And when she told him, rather simply, that she was only there to care for them, Gong had to grapple with something he had never even thought of before.

He, nor his brothers, nor Tiandi, ever cared for the family of Xiang who were left behind.

“It is not the will of Shakti,” Parvati clarified, “It is my choice to be here.”

“I thought you told me you were Shakti…”

She shook her head. “I am made from Shakti, yes, and we are one in the same, but I developed my own sentience. I am my own person…can you say the same?”

Gong was both compelled and repelled. He knew Tiandi was not watching him—he had made sure of it—but he was still afraid of dipping his toe into the conversation. He worried it was a trap, somehow, and his heart warned that if he took the bait, he would never quite be the same.

Yet, he could not leave it. For some reason, the idea of Parvati seeing him as some mindless drone of Tiandi’s making was worse than her tricking him into revealing too much personal information.

“My name was Blanc Gong Cuad…I still remember my life as a human. Sometimes, I still visit my old hometown although it looks quite different now.”

Parvati held his eyes and smiled. There was no malicious feeling in the gesture. If anything, she came off as relieved. Happy, even.

They spent hours talking—trading stories and philosophies. It baffled Gong how similar a lot of their feelings on things were and that, in turn, made him wonder who else he had been wrong about. Were the other Mistresses like her? Would they and his brothers get along if not for their respective Gods?

Gong enjoyed his time with Parvati so much that they met a few more times, usually just to talk but, sometimes, to catch the other up on what was going on. Both vented out their frustrations with Tiandi or Shakti and, before Gong knew it, he had made Parvati his confidant.

She had become the only person he could really trust.

It was why he had summoned her in the bog.

“I know we just spoke,” he responded and gulped, “But Pangu is in danger.”

Parvati had already met Pangu—it was what she and Gong spoke about when they talked just the other day. The Mistress was so taken with the Xiang and she had asked a lot of questions about him. At the end of their meeting, she had decided that he would make a great middle man between Tiandi and Shakti and, if they wanted to try to change things for good, that he was their best candidate.

So, hearing this, Parvati tensed. “Danger? What is happening?”

“He…well he denounced some of Tiandi’s laws publicly as well as told an entire crowd of people that he loved men. On top of that, he completely ruined the plans Tiandi had in place for Merra and the world.” Just saying it all made Gong’s stomach turn sour. “So…my brothers and Tiandi want to kill him.”

Her brows knotted together. “Well I see things escalated quickly since we last talked.”

“Yes, I am afraid so.”

“So, when do they plan to kill him?”

“Pretty much any moment now.” Gong shrugged. “He is hiding somewhere in southern Terra with his disciples and the ex-lord of Ultimos. I suspect Zhu will confront him directly.”

“And what will you do?” Parvati leaned in.

“…There is nothing I can do. They would kill me too.”

She frowned and her eyes traveled south. “I…I suppose I could try to interfere.”

“If you can think of something to do that will not put you directly in harm’s way as well…”

“Not really… So we do nothing?” Her disappointment was palpable.

Gong matched her frown. He had hoped something would be born from their meeting. That one of them would spontaneously think of the solution.

“I will take his soul once it is in the spirit realm and hang onto it…I technically died before I became Tiangong so, perhaps, I can do something similar with him. I would still face repercussions but if it was successful, I would not care.”

Parvati crossed her arms and started to drum her fingers along her skin. “Hold on…”

Gong perked up. “What?”

“Could you take his soul without being noticed?”

“I suppose. It would only be if I did something with it that I would be found out.” Gong gave her a half shrug.

A smile began to tug at her lips. “What if you didn’t do anything with it? What if someone else did?”

He figured she meant herself so he started to nod. “And what would you do, exactly?”

“Well, if I have his body and soul then I can reanimate him.”

“Necromancy?” Gong reared back. “Will that not get Shakti’s attention immediately?”

“Not the way I’ll do it.” Parvati smirked. “But I will need his body as soon as possible to prevent rot and a willing student to actually perform the ritual…”

Just the mere idea made Gong’s heart pound like mad. “I…I will ensure that I get his soul. And I will bring it to you as soon as I can.” He fidgeted his hands together and added, “I am trusting you with this, Parvati.”

The Mistress grabbed his shoulders, not forcefully, but with enough pressure to get his attention solely on her. She stared into his eyes, unblinking. “You know, if we do this, we cannot go back to how things were before. We will be betraying our masters, our parents, ourselves. We cannot be unsure.”

It was a lot to consider, certainly, but Gong nodded without hesitation.

For any other Xiang he might have doubted such an extreme plan but, for Pangu, he knew he had to.

His memory of that meeting faded away as he leaned against the cave wall in Shakti’s lair, watching Pangu talk with his friends and disciples. Just thinking of that time felt so long ago despite it being only a year and a half prior.

But so much had changed.

They had been successful, for one, and, for two, he was officially a traitor to Tiandi and his brothers. It might have hurt him more if he was not so proud of himself or if the reward for his treachery was not so bountiful. His eyes stayed on Pangu and he could not bring himself to regret it for a moment.

#the xiang chronicles #my novel #my writing

[hqcult]

EYELINER ## suna rintarou

trying to apply his eyeliner would've been easy if only rintarou can keep his hands to himself.

. tw smut, dom suna, established relationship, fingering, oral f receiving, edging, dirty talk, slight exhibitionism, mind break, unprotected sex, pwp . wc 4k

"ugh, he's gonna do it again." you mutter, eyeing suna's hand as it skims around your vanity desk for his favorite brand of eyeliner. for some reason everybody naturally finds themself drawn to suna rintarou, even if he was always so stoic and detached. 

you hate how girls would flock around him in parties as they stare at his kohl-lined eyes or at the painted black nail polish whenever you disappear to get a drink, knowing full well what kind of thoughts are running in their heads because you, for sure, thought of him the same way. alright. we get it. your boyfriend can be a hot mofo if he wants to be and his idgaf attitude just adds to the whole appeal.

we get it.

because you love him more than the stars in the galaxy combined, sometimes you can't help but feel jealous when people get too close to him. you really didn't want to be that type of girlfriend but sometimes you just like the assurance that he's all yours and nothing's wrong about that, right? plus, suna seems to exceptionally love when he gets you jealous and feral. he may always pretend otherwise but he loves staking his claim on you just as much as you liked being claimed by him. 

"are you done yet?" you say, staring at him from your bedroom door frame. 

atsumu was throwing a party tonight and you were all dressed up and ready to go, just patiently waiting for your boyfriend. 

suna replies a beat later, not bothering to meet your eyes. "just a minute."

you just want his attention all on you. you don't even want to go to this stupid party and see all these people shamelessly flirting with him even if you were right there by his side. you just want to have some alone time with suna rintarou. 

and you may or may not have just come up with an idea to make that happen.

"where's the eyeliner? the one i always use?"

"it's not there? i know i left it there. wait, let me look." 

you straighten up, walking towards him in your red leather mini skirt that can make any man's eyes sliver down to your ass. 

suna is sitting on your swivel chair, leaning back in a man spread as he clicks his tongue impatiently. he looks good even in a plain shirt and a pair of ripped jeans, his athletic and tall build enough to make any outfit look good.

"are you sure it's not in the drawers?"

"yes, i already checked."

you pout, making a show of muttering "i swore i threw it in here," under your breath as you maneuver around his spread legs to stand in between them, bending forward as you rummage around where he's already looked twice. 

you know he's staring at your ass. suna was never lowkey with how much he loves you in this leather mini-skirt. it's a miracle he hasn't landed a rough spank yet after getting a face full view of your ass. 

"wait a minute, maybe it rolled under my vanity."

so you get down on your knees, making sure your butt grazes the front of his jeans and just like you predicted, suna was half-hard already. 

it was truly such a stroke to your ego but you focus on the task at hand. 

you arched your ass up as you bend down to look for the little tube of eyeliner, slightly shaking it side to side as you "struggle" to get the eyeliner out from underneath the table. 

when your hands feel the cylindrical plastic, you retreat, sitting up straight again and proudly showing your boyfriend the eyeliner in your hands. 

you made sure your eyes were as huge and innocent as they look, kneeling in between his legs, shins tucked in and hands in your lap like a good girl. 

"i found it!"

you could've sworn you've seen his left eye twitch as he stared you down. you've been with him long enough to notice that look in his eyes. what are you playing at, huh?

you wait for him to speak but you can see all the gears turning in his head as he continues to stare at you. 

you wait anxiously for what he's going to do next. maybe he'll make you suck him off, or he'll throw you on the bed, or spank your ass because you were clearly teasing him—

"why don't you put my eyeliner on for me?"

you stand up, opening the tube in as he shuts his eyes. you try not to let your disappointment show too much. fine. maybe you can just have a quickie later while drunk in one of the rooms in the frat house. 

"why are you standing? come sit on my lap while you're doing it."

you were too busy removing the excess product off the brush to notice his eyes had taken a dark turn, contradicting the gentleness of his warm hands as it snakes around the back of your bare thighs pulling you closer. 

"no, i'll mess this—"

"i said sit."

delicious shivers create goosebumps on your skin. 

you know that tone. he only uses it when he's horny and he wants to bend you over. so maybe your game plan did work after all, yet you're staring at him dumbfounded with the eyeliner brush in midair. 

"come sit. i won't repeat myself." he leans back against the chair, manspreading as he waits for you. 

you scramble to straddle his strong thighs, muscles a manifestation of his hard work and dedication to volleyball. it was great to see him in action on the court but you'd rather he flexed those muscles when you ride his thighs. 

you cup his face, getting all up in his personal space to apply the eyeliner. 

you've long grown out of the honeymoon phase but why is your heart beating so damn fast right now?

your hands were shaking, perspiration was building up in your forehead, and you were holding your breath.

"are you nervous?"

"shut up, rin. 'm not."

when the brush first touches the lid of his eyes, a nimble finger traces the expanse of your whole slit over your panties. 

you pull the brush away, hissing in surprise. 

"rintarou—!"

"what?"

his sharp tone isn't what shut you up, it was the hand cupping your sex. the heel of his wrist slowly grazing against your sensitive clit. you drew a sharp breath. he smirks. 

"go on. continue, doll."

you want to hate the teasing lilt in his voice but you know deep down you love it.

you held your breath, diving in once again to the task at hand whilst trying to ready yourself from his ministrations. 

your hand slightly shakes as you start in the middle of his waterline, slowly tracing the bottom part of his eyes before making a small wing at the end. 

you've seen him apply his own eyeliner so much you have this down to an art form. everything would've been easy if only he kept his hands to himself. you try to ignore the digit still feathering over your slit or the hand wrapping around you to bunch your skirt up around the waist. 

for someone whose eyes are closed he's doing a damn good job navigating. but maybe that's how he shows you're his. he knows your body like the back of his hand, he knows what makes you tick, what makes you pant, what makes you moan in ecstasy. 

"i can never resist when you dress up all pretty for me. you know that, right, doll?"

applying the eyeliner to his waterline had been fairly easy. the lash line, on the other hand, proved difficult. especially when suna's upgraded from tracing your pussy lips to dangerously toying with the elastics of your panties, slipping his finger under before stretching it to slap your skin. 

as you try to connect the upper part of the eyeliner to the small wing you made from his waterline, you hissed. 

"why don’t you pull them down?"

he chuckles at your impatience and you slightly pull the brush away as he finally shoves the fabric down. you gasp when the cold hits your wet cunt. the scent of your essence unmistakable and you know suna's holding back from teasing. 

"as you wish, baby."

as suna grows bolder, the more your hands shook as you worked on his other eye. 

just as the tip of the brush touched his left eye's waterline, he pushed two fingers inside of you, dragging them against your walls in a lazy manner that was so distinctly him. he curls his fingers when he fucks it in before dragging them against your walls when he pulls it out, slightly scissoring you. he uses his other hand to draw figure 8’s against your clit. 

you swallow, trying your best to keep your hand still as a surgeon but you see the jagged little curves where your jolts of pleasure were too strong. 

you never should've provoked him to shove your underthings down, at least then you wouldn't have to suffer through his fingers. they were just so long, so thick, and so experienced when it comes to pleasuring you that you can never touch yourself anymore without craving suna's own fingers instead. 

you bit your lip, the hand that was cupping his jaw tightening as you try to fix the little mistakes here and there, hoping suna won't see them when he inspects your work in the mirror. it doesn't matter that he purposely set you up to fail. there'll be consequences if he isn't satisfied with what you did. may god have mercy on your horny little soul if rintarou thinks you were a bad girl. 

"you just hate losing, don't you?" you hiss, jolting when you feel him slap your cunt. your knees nearly buckled and you almost fell off the chair if not for his sturdy hand on the small of your back. 

"what are you talking about? i'm just fingering my girl like a winner."

just as you started outlining his left lash line, suna shoves a 3rd finger into your sopping cunt. loud squelching noises fill the room as your walls pulsate around his thick digits. the metal rings he wore brushing against your pussy lips as he fucks you knuckle-deep with three fingers. involuntarily, your own hips started moving to match his pace, shamelessly thrusting up everytime he shoves his fingers in.

he knows you so well. he doesn't even need to look at your face, he can feel you out by the noises you make. so good. so good. his fingers feel so good. fuck. fuck. fuck.

until he pulls them out of your sopping pussy. 

"rin," you whine, folding into his shoulder as you struggle to balance your kneeling self on the chair. you blindly reach down for his hand, urging him to put his fingers back in. "rin, please don't stop. please please please—”

"i told you to put my eyeliner, not fuck yourself on my fingers," he leans back on the chair, eyes still shut close while licking his digits clean. 

your lips press into a thin line, eyes dilated as a whine starts to threaten to pass your lips. you're sick of whatever game this is, you just want him to fuck you silly already! but as if sensing your thoughts, suna clicks his tongue and speaks. "hurry it up. we have a party to get to."

without his fingers to plug your cunny, your slick runs down the insides of your thighs. it's slow descent against your skin making goosebumps run up your arms, shivering as the cold hits your bare cunt. 

suna must've known your anguish, he could feel his jeans getting soaked but he didn't care and you wish to punch that smug smirk off his pretty face. 

your fingers stilled when you cupped his cheeks and leaned in to start applying a thin stroke of eyeliner to his water line. with a simple flick of the wrist you ended it with a little wing, just like how your boyfriend likes it. now, you just have to do his lash line and—

you let out an audible gasp when his fingers started feeling around your thighs, having an inkling idea of what he's tryna look for. true to what you expected, he traces the line of your dripping slick up your inner thighs until his fingers graze your nether lips, successfully collecting your essence. 

you stare entranced when suna brings them up to his lips, eyebrows furrowed and almost moaning aloud because of your taste. the fact that his eyes are closed made you want him even more. his fingers pop out of his mouth, but you get the feeling it wasn't enough. he wants more. suna wants you under his mercy. he wants to taste and ruin you until you're fucked out and lying in a pretty mess on the bed sheets. 

"so fucking sweet, my baby. you're this desperate for me? for my fingers?"

you snapped. you threw the makeup elsewhere in the room (though not before screwing it shut) before diving down to kiss him on the lips. all lust-filled and rough as you both channel the desires you have for each other. maybe suna was at his tipping point too, noting that he doesn't even bother to push you away. 

with his strong arms he picks you up and you wrap your legs around his torso, never breaking the kiss before literally throwing you down on the bed, knocking the air out your lungs. 

"rin!"

"whoops."

he's kneeling before the bed, the sheets ruffling when he pulls you to the edge by your calves, hot breath against your sex making you squirm. 

"my pretty thing," the kitten lick against your pussy drove you crazy, desperately bucking your hips up and suna chuckles condescendingly. "but such a bad fuckin' girl, aren't ya?"

you yelp when he slaps the side of your thigh. 

"who said you could kiss me?"

he pinches your clit hard as he enters your line of sight. suna has never seen you this pretty and desperate for him before. sweat making your skin glow, lips raw from your biting, eyes conveying your every lust-filled thought about him. the sight of you so riled up makes his dick ache and he wants so badly to fuck you already but bad girls don't get what they want just yet. you have to earn it. 

"i asked you a question. who the fuck told you that you could fucking kiss me?" the acid in his voice contrasts the gentle way he caresses the spot on your thigh where he had hit you. 

"no one."

you sob in pleasure when his hot tongue licks a stripe up your pussy before suckling on your clit. once. twice. sucking particularly hard on the third. before running his tongue swiftly over the bundle of nerves and kitten licking his way down your pussy lips. your thighs were shaking so hard he had to pin them down. he knows it's a sign that you're close, not that he's surprised, he's been stimulating your body for minutes now it was amazing you haven't cummed yet. 

but then he stops.

a thread of your slick dribbling down his chin as those cat eyes of his stare you down. he watches, enchanted by how your chest rises and falls. another sweet release he snatched away from you.

"i thought so. what does that make you?"

amazing how he manages to sound so normal, conversational even while he's literally edging you like there's no tomorrow. what do you expect? it's his favorite punishment. he gets to see you sob and beg for him like there's nothing in your mind but his cock and he loves it so much. loves seeing you bend and break for him to please. 

you sniffle, arm coming up to hide the frustrated tears in your eyes. "been… been a bad girl."

a hand slaps your thighs, brutal. eyes on rintarou when answering his questions. your eyes shoot up. 

"and who's bad girl have you been?"

"yours."

this time he reaches forward to tweak your pebbled nipples. the sudden cold of the pads of his fingers making you gasp and spasm. your boyfriend straddles you and you shiver at the head of his glistening cock leaving trails on top of your thighs. but he doesn't make another move. when you sneakily try wiggling your hips for your sex to graze his dick, he slapped your thigh without holding back. you doubt it won't start leaving a handprint. you wait with bated breath when he grabs hold of his cock, the head angry and dripping, the only proof of his also growing desire for you. 

when he directs the head for it to graze your nether lips, you almost cried another fresh batch of tears. his hand quickly brushes up to wipe it away, though not before feeling his dick twitch. you know how much he loves seeing you cry from the overwhelming pleasure he can give you. 

"last time i checked, my name isn't yours. didn't i tell you to answer in full sentences when i'm fucki—"

"suna! suna rintarou! i've been sun-suna rintarou's bad girl!"

suna ducks to mark your neck and torso. he feels the goosebumps forming on your body. the heat enveloping the two of you as you both quickly shed any remaining pieces of clothing. he kisses you. sloppy. nothing but teeth clashing and tongues fighting for dominance as he cradles your face with his big hands, feeling the mushroom head of his cock grazing your thighs.

usually he'd appreciate you not cutting him off mid-sentence but he too has reached his own limits and right now all he can think about is drilling you to the mattress. "rin, please!" you sob, arms wrapping around his neck as you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck.

"shh. yes, doll. i hear ya." 

you were dripping wet enough that all it took is one deep thrust for him to bottom-out. usually you're quite hesitant when rintarou's rawing you but at this point right now, you doubt fucking with a condom would've felt this good. no thin plastic whatsoever that's separating you from him. when he starts to move, you both moan in ecstasy. the bed creaking under the weight of you both as he pistons his dick inside. "you feel so good, doll. so fucking wet and tight. look how wet you are. dripping for my cock, huh? this all for me? answer me!"

you hardly register his voice, the pleasure you've been craving since minutes ago now being crashed down upon you. it's overwhelming and you don't want it any other way. 

"yes," you pant. the tears still leaking from your eyes as you claw at his biceps. "yes. all-all for you, r-rin! just for you!"

he stubbornly keeps hitting the spot that'll make you keen and whine, suna forcing your hips down and sitting up with his palms at the sides of your head. he wants to see you come undone, he'd love to grab his phone and make this memory permanent but he doubts his camera can capture the real deal. your moans and pleas reaching his ears, spurring him on, the beautiful way your back arches of the mattress, the way you physically shook in pleasure and you screamed and worshipped his name.

"rin! oh my god, rin! fuck. 'm close," your voice breaks, hiccuping from the onslaught of tears you can't hold back as blinding pleasure grips you in a tight vice.

suna comes down to snake his arms around you, pulling you infinitely closer as one of his hands supports your lower back, manually moving your hips to match his frantic thrusts. "why you crying? bad girls should be tough, right? aren't—shit—aren't you a bad girl? hmm? bad girls like you shouldn't be crying."

you shake your head, looking pretty and desperate as you meet his eyes. "no, i'm not a bad—"

"yes. you are," you groan, his thrusts particularly hard to shut you up and make a point. "you're a very, very bad girl. you don't listen to me at all. bad girls don't even deserve to cum."

"no! no! rin, please!" you say, a blubbering mess as you bury your forehead into his neck, licking and suckling at his skin to get in his good side. "i'll be good. i promise! please, let me cum. rin! please, i'll be good. i'll be good! only your good—ah."

"you fucking bet you're my good girl," he hissed, biting your shoulder before moaning, pitched and wanton as it threatens to snap the stretched cord inside of you. but not yet. you can't. not unless he says so. "it's me that's making you feel this good. this is my pussy. my plaything. repeat what i said—doll! repeat what i said."

you cried, screaming in frustration as his cock stills inside of you and you know he won't move until you oblige. "this is…" you hiccup. "rin-rintarou's pu-pussy. i'm rintarou's play-plaything."

"what was that?" he asks, hips starting to rut against you again in full force. the headboard violently hitting the walls. when your hands scramble to cling onto something, you accidentally shove something off the bed but you couldn't care less. "louder, doll. i want the whole fucking neighborhood to hear you."

"this is rintarou's pussy. i'm rintarou's plaything." you say in your normal speaking voice, albeit shaky and almost incomprehensible as he holds you firm against him, his cock embedding it's shape and size into your sopping walls.

"louder!"

he hoists you up into a sitting position, his hips fucking up towards you and you only realize he did it when you see the window situated meters behind you two. curtains-drawn, open for the night breeze to billow in. he wasn't kidding. suna rintarou wants the neighbors to hear how good you're getting rawed. he wasn't kidding. he was not kidding.

"go on," he whispers, breathy and teasing. "you'll do it. you're a good girl for me arentcha?"

fuck. "this is rintarou's pussy! i'm rintarou's plaything!"

he licks a stripe up your neck, hands coming around your neck as he whispers into your ear the words you've been dying to hear. "cum, baby."

and your orgasm surges through your whole body in violent jolts, thick ropes of cum squirting out your pussy as you distantly hear him groaning, your walls tightening and sucking him in with every aggressive thrust. rintarou quickly finishes after you, teeth embedding themselves into your shoulder as he groans. you knew bruises will form and you're going to be sore as a bitch but you don't fucking care.

"rin, i love you." you say, grabbing a hold of his face as you stare deep into his eyes. and you don't understand why there's doubt clouding in your head when he takes a beat later to answer, when really, he just can't help the sudden wave of emotions festering in his stomach as he meets the gravity of your gaze. the love and devotion in your eyes as he can only hope that he could translate his emotions through his eyes, too.

he smiles, leaning in to give you a kiss. it's sweet and gentle, completely unlike the one he gave you a few minutes ago when in the throes of pleasure. no. you feel every bit of his love for you in this one kiss and you don't know why you ever doubted yourself, doubted him. you've been together for so long and you're it for him. 

"i love you, too."

but leave it to your darling rintarou to ruin the moment.

"but you'll never apply my eyeliner ever again."

. a/n » this was so self-indulgent im sorry lmao

#haikyuu smut #hq smut #suna rintarou smut #suna smut #suna rintarou x reader #thirsthours #(❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) mine ༉‧ #tw smut #tw exhibitionism #tw mindbreak #tw edging #tw dirty talk #suna rintarou x you #suna rintarou x female! reader #suna rintarou x f! reader #haikyuu imagines #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x y/n #hq x y/n

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Draw your swords, pt. 6

Summary: Losing someone can make you realize what was already there and the Darkling is about to find that out the hard way.

Warnings: angst, violence, swearing, bit of fluff

Part one // Part two // Part three // Part four // Part five  

=================================

Five days have passed and the Darkling had never stopped looking for his wife. His men never saw him rest, sleep was simply never on his agenda. He barely ate at all, merely giving time for the rest of them to gather their strength.

He was restless, constantly questioning how this could have happened. No matter how he looked at it, the Darkling felt guilt consuming him. Without his rage, he worried the guilt would have paralyzed him. Had he not went on a pointless hunt for something that’s likely a tale, she would have been right by his side, antagonizing him.

It’s been hundreds of years since he felt this way, as if his heartstrings are being pulled by someone other than himself. In this search for Y/N, he realized she is consuming. After all, she might have been right – a part of him may actually care for her. He cursed that part of himself over and over again as result.

They’ve tracked her toward Fjerdan borders. Every now and then, they would find bodies on the road, their throat cut or stabbed right through the heart. Sometimes, he found them alive still. He never refrained from calling on his shadows, trying to draw useful information to close in on their whereabouts.

Y/N never saw him use his shadows before. He couldn’t help but wonder if she’d disapprove of the means he’s using to find her. After all, she called him a demon on their wedding night. She would never accept him as he is, he had no doubt about that.

Did she want to be found by him?

The first body they found, the Darkling smiled. He didn’t question it was her hands who have taken the man’s life. There was no concrete proof, but he was certain of it. Every body found felt like her own version of breadcrumbs.

Closing his eyes, he exhaled heavily. If she managed to set herself free so many times to leave what was now five dead men behind, he couldn’t help but worry for her safety. What was the price of each crumb she left?

It wasn’t just the exposure to snow he worried about – and he did worry as she got cold too quickly and he was the one to warm her up before. Who’d warm her up now?

The darkness of the forest gave him cause to worry too – she may have tried to hide it, but he knew she was afraid of the dark. He realized it when her breathing turned shallow and fast their first night together just as she extinguished the candlelight. The next night, he left his candle to burn long into the night.

Something stirred inside him, a beast has awakened. Despite the war his heart and mind waged, he wondered if he’s his own worst enemy. Maybe it was time to let someone in. For too long, he had been alone in the shadows of his past lives.

Why is he repeating the same mistakes?

How can he be afraid when he married a woman who never blinks in the face of danger?

His heart was ice and stone until she came and now the ice has started to melt. All he’s done is hurt and destroy, but he wanted out of the loneliness that clings to him.

She was right, as hard as it is to admit it. He’s a demon, a devil that walks the earth and he cares. Because of her he hopes he might love again and he can’t let anyone take that from him – hope is the only thing stronger than fear. And when a devil falls in love and discovers hope, it’s the most hauntingly beautiful sight. They should fear him as he will go to the depths of hell to protect her.

While his eyes may have been closed, his heart jumped as a bright flash forced him to open them again.

He was never given a chance to be soft. His hands had to be bloody, to have people fear him. Only when they feared him, they wouldn’t hurt him. Now was the time to show them just why they fear him.

“Where?” He growled out, looking to Ivan and Fedyor who were looking at the sky.

“East”, Fedyor replied hastily, ready to follow Kirigan who set off in said direction without a second thought. He didn’t order anyone to follow, but they did.

Ivan and Fedyor walked two steps behind their general, alert as the flash had awakened them from a deep slumber. They weren’t the only ones shaken, unsure what they’re walking into but none showed fear as their general lead them straight to the source. Their loyalty, their belief in general Kirigan runs deep.

Except for David. He was afraid. He didn’t want to be in that forest and he didn’t want to be in danger, but he trusted Kirigan. Besides, Y/N was nice and Genya seemed to like her. So he came along too.

Kirigan walked in strides, the snow didn’t slow him down. His hands formed fists, his face twisted in anger, but his heart pounded in his chest as he had no inkling what he might find. All he knew was that he had to get there, fast.

As if made of darkness itself, the Darkling emerged on what looked like a battlefield. The trees surrounded a small clearing covered in snow that melted under the spilled blood – still warm as it poured from the dead surrounding her.

She’s on her knees, two Fjerdans chaining her up as if she’s a wild animal.

“You think you’re scary, huh?” She spat at the Fjerdan’s feet – a crimson liquid, Darkling realized. She’s bleeding.  

“That’s adorable”, she chuckled maniacally as she held her fierce gaze on the Fjerdan stood before her. They pulled her left hand behind her back and her right hand in front as they tightened the chains that were secured over rope that laid just beneath.

Darkling’s blood boiled. It is fear that brings rage, that hot burning anger that seeks to harm. Once again, he was afraid, not of her but for her.

Four more Fjerdans came from behind the trees, all covered in blood. “Fucking bitch”, one of them kicked her in the ribs and he couldn’t take anymore. He could kill them easily for what they’ve done – he’s killed every one of them he ran into in the past five days without even blinking, regardless if they were involved in her disappearance or not.

“Mister, I’ve seen scary and you don’t have his handsome smile.”

Licking his lips, the Darkling nearly smiles at her remark. There’s no possible way she means anyone else but him. Looking at his Grisha, he found them nearly all in position. They would attack in a minute, swiftly and deadly.

Yet in a moment of carelessness, he missed the Fjerdans realization they’re being watched. Too quickly, more of them appeared. The pitiful human managed to land a few consecutive blows to Darkling’s face before drawing a dagger.

Angry, dark eyes showed the Fjerdan that the Darkling’s brain is in a different mode, that he has switched gears from empathy he had for his wife to cold emotional indifference. Never once has he directed this mode in Y/N’s direction, yet it emerged when he sensed a threat to her life, letting out a part of him that was full on protective.

Grunting, the Darkling’s eyes narrowed at the human who dared to sink the blade into his heart. Despite his immortality, he could still hurt. The pain of a stab wound felt just as it would if here as fragile as the human before him.

But he’s not human at all.

Connecting his hands, the Darkling lifts his head as he summons the darkness that spills from every corner of the forest. “Foolish”, he sneers, “Attacking me in the dark?” The Darkling smirked, walking past the petrified Fjerdan, allowing his shadows to administer a thousand cuts for his transgression.

As he walked toward the middle of the circle, his shadows followed, aiding his Grisha in taking the rest of the Fjerdans so quickly that Y/N gasped.

Looking around in shock, she found Kirigan kneeling beside her.

“You have a knife”, she coughed into her shoulder, “A knife in your chest.”

“I promised”, he gasped for breath as he pulled the knife from his chest. “That I would protect you and I intend to keep the damn promise.”

On the brink of tears, her lips quivered before she laughed. “I thought you’d let them kill me.” Better to laugh than cry, she thought.

Frowning, he shook his head. “That would be too easy”, he waved David over who stood at the tree line, wide eyed. “If anyone’s going to kill you, it should be me.”

Even with tears blurring her vision, she giggled at his stupid remark. She had tried so hard to free herself.

It wasn’t the first time she had been captured by enemies, she knew what to do. But there were so many of them. Each time she freed herself, they would descend upon her. She managed to run, twice, each time they dragged her back kicking and screaming.

Despite his words, Y/N didn’t believe Kirigan would come for her. She had to be her own hero and she tried. In the end, she used everything at her disposal – everything.

Feeling the chains drop, Y/N glances at David, “Thank you.” The ropes were cut as well, but she didn’t move. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure if she could stand on her own and asking for help would wound her. Rubbing her bruised wrists, she reluctantly looked at Kirigan.

“Here”, Kirigan offered his hands. Truth be told, he wanted to carry her, but he knew her pride wouldn’t allow it.

Hissing, she forced herself up despite Kirigan’s offer. “I am perfectly capable of walking on my own.”

He’d have asked her again because she trembled when the wind blew. Her hair was matted with blood, her face red and not from blushing. He could see the damage they’ve done more clearly now as she bent to take a deep breath as if the simple act of breathing hurt her.

Staring at her, he nodded despite his better judgment. Her breathing was ragged, dragging her feet as she walked. She felt his eyes on her, it unnerved her. All she could do is hope her legs don’t give out, but it felt as if they would betray her any moment now.

“Go and make camp ahead”, he ordered his Grisha to speed up as he realized her stubbornness would kill her. Stepping before her, he wrapped an arm around her waist. There would be no asking her for permission this time, he’ll not allow her to deny his help. Hoisting her up in his arm, he held his breath as she cried out in pain.

“I’m sorry”, he whispered, “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

How could he not bring any healers? How could he have been so stupid?

Groaning, she sent him a stern glare yet found no anger in his. His eyes are like the ocean - they have the potential to destroy, yet when the waves reach the shore, they dissipate, leaving soft designs in the sand as a gentle reminder of its presence.

Leaning into his embrace, Y/N let out a gentle sigh of resignation. She’s been caught in the riptide and for once, she doesn’t want to fight it.

“I really thought I’d die”, she admits reluctantly.

Feeling him stiffen as he held her in his arms, Y/N frowned. Perhaps she shouldn’t have said that, or anything at all. This isn’t what they do, they don’t bare their hearts open.

“And when I faced death”, she continued regardless. Tilting her head to look up at him, she let out a shuddered exhale. A shy smile adorned her lips as their eyes shared a gaze so tender, an outsider would believe them to be in love.

“I thought how silly it is that I don’t know your first name.”

Snorting, Kirigan raised his eyebrows, “Really?”

“Yes”, she breathes out.

Looking at her now, the Darkling couldn’t believe this is his wife. The woman who infuriates him so often seemed so small, so fragile in his arms. Her gaze held remains of the horrors she was cast into and yet he never saw her as earnest before.

“I married you and I don’t even know your name.”

Licking his lips, he stops. Truth be told, no one actually knows his name. His name was long forgotten, a piece of his soul he had left behind in the fold. He promised himself he’d never utter it while he lives. He had promised he would never be that man again.

Unfortunately for him, he seems to be breaking his promises lately.

He promised her he’d protect her and he failed, just as he promised himself he’d never care for her and yet he does.

“Aleksander”, he mutters, still unsure if it’s the right decision. He placed one of his greatest secrets in the hands of a woman who’d see his world burn. He gave her power she never should possess and yet he’s not afraid. No one could make him fear anything after the ordeal he was put through since she decided to tear down his defenses.  

Smiling softly, she closed her eyes. Resting her head on his shoulder she felt satisfied. It may be small, but finding out his name felt like a victory. She was born to play this game, it was her destiny. He is her destiny.

Waking up, she found herself wrapped in several blankets inside a tent. Grunting, she struggled to sit up on her own. It seemed to be dark still, but she had a blue light lantern lit inside. She may not know who left it there, but Y/N was thankful. Despite her fear of dark, she found it odd she did not fear Aleksander’s darkness at all.

When his shadows nearly encased her in the clearing, she didn’t fret or worry. She smiled.

As contradictory as it may seem, she wished he was with her now. Her entire body ached and still, she was more bothered by the empty spot beside her. Shaking her head, she bites her lower lip. Would it be so bad if she showed a sliver of vulnerability for a single night? Would making a small concession such as this truly take away her power?

Before she has a chance to change her mind, she’s already outside of her tent. The cold chilled her to the bone, biting every inch of exposed skin. Teeth chattering, she looked to the tent next to hers as it was the only one so close – seemingly intentional.

Trying to open it in the cold seemed impossible as her fingers shook violently. Feeling faint, she wondered why she couldn’t just stay in her own tent for the night. Surely it would have been a better idea than to admit she’s scared to be alone.

A warm liquid trickled down her lip and she nearly laughed at her own idiocy. The darkness and cold and her own injuries have all been fairly good reasons for her to just sleep and try to recover and she still tried to find her husband who showed so much disdain for her in the past.

Just as she was about to give up, a familiar head of hair peaked through.

Shivering, she wipes the liquid from under her nose with the back of her hand. Looking at it, she realizes it’s blood. There’s a slightly dazed look in her eyes, the blood loss suffered over the past days leaving its mark.

Looking up at Kirigan, her lips tremble and she sways slightly as her legs threaten to give out. “I didn’t know who else to go to”, she mumbles meekly before collapsing into Kirigan’s arms.

No…Aleksander’s arms.

Pulling her inside, he wrapped her in his arms as she shivered. Covering her with blankets didn’t seem to help either, but he had confidence it would soon enough.

She closed her eyes, clinging to him and selfishly, he smiled. It brought back memories of the night she climbed atop of him to warm up, he assumed. She didn’t know he was awake then, but she did now. She trusted him enough to seek warmth and as her shivers stopped slowly. That’s when the Darkling realized he would never deny her anything she asked of him.

“Fuck”, he whispers under his breath and her eyes open.

He looked at her in a haunted way, a shadow of a bruise marred his jaw and she reached up to touch it, her chest aching when he nuzzled into her palm. They have never been quite as tender with one another, never so intimate. It felt surprisingly nice.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” She asked, feeling so emotionally raw. Physical pain and lingering fear of impending death must have weakened her for a short while. Surely, she can allow herself a few moments of humanity?

He caught her wrist and pulled her hand down to press flat over his heart. “Here.”

Drawing a shuddered breath, her eyebrows knitted in worry. That’s where the knife was, she remembered with guilt. He could have died for her. Hating him requires too much energy; one she had little to spare. For the night, he can just be her husband and she will just be his wife. What harm can it do?

“Why did you come for me? Didn’t you say you wouldn’t fight for me?” Her confidence wavered as he sighed, brushing his fingers along her cheek. Not only did he come for her, but he murdered men for her.

Blinking slow, half in a daze as a low-grade fever began to grip her too, she had no more strength to deny how beautiful he is or how disarming his charm is. He may never love her, but she could…she could love him. If she ever fell for him, she knew she’d never be able to unlove him. She wouldn’t want to and that…that felt oddly comforting. For once, she was too tired to listen to her mind that preferred to set the world on fire rather than care for him.

As her eyes closed and her face relaxed, he stayed awake. He didn’t understand it, but he embraced the warm feeling spreading in his chest as she fell asleep.

“I’d burn this world for you.”

=============================

Tags: @bruxa0007 @rangotangomango @kaitlyn2907 @thestoryofmylife9 @shelivesindaydreamswme @hxrgreeves @safetyhtom @kaqua @savannah-elliott @all-art-is-quite-useless  @azure23x @girlmadeofavocados @ashdab2611 @acciorudolphx @ladyblablabla @wckedheart @xceafh @sanna2020 @tarkanelima-blog @takethee @mellifluous-cosmos @marvel-ousnesss @tea-effect @starlightofsolaria @p3nny4urth0ught5 @blackbirddaredevil23 @sarcastic-and-cool @slytherinsbiggestproblem @within-thehollowcrown @notthatchhavi @musicconversedance @freakytillthemoon  @lgkoval @honeyofthegods @queenmalhinewahine @misselsbells06  @whatthefluffrichard​

PART 7

#the darkling #the darkling x reader #shadown and bone #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #aleksander x reader #aleksander morozova x reader #aleksander kirigan #general kirigan x reader

[the-nysh]

Top 3 hottest OPM characters(male) in your opinion and why?

Hmmm, quite a difficult question! Mainly cause Murata's out here drawing everyone conventionally attractive, so narrowing down the choices to 3 from such a huge cast of pretty guys is almost unfair! ;o; Plus beyond playing favorites, what constitutes 'hot' varies subjectively from person to person according to taste. Just as a heads up, I'm ace-spectrum, but I still have eyes to discern what's up, so I'll try but may fail to tackle this as clinically as I can. 🧐

Anyway, if you've followed Murata's art evolution from his Eyeshield 21 days, then you might recognize that the character who most closely matches his default 'attractive male' face, aesthetically according to his style, is Glasses.

Meaning, this face is basically the base form from which you can add or subtract further spices of individuality to make an all-around more interesting and therefore attractive character (even better than this). How well we know the character, and their overall vibe/energy also count as distinguishing factors beyond surface level aesthetics too. So with all that said, I think I can narrow down the final contestants to be among these fine standout ikemen: 

(With my opinions given in no particular order.)

Flash: aka Mr. Legolas bishie sparkle personified. This guy is probably the most glamorous, stupidly gorgeous mf of the entire cast (even more so than some of Murata’s girls!) and he knows it. Visually he’s more striking to me than Sonic, because his eyes are always sharp, and he carries himself with a sense of poise and dignity (which Sonic often loses...oops). His air of self-importance and arrogance can be a bit off-putting though (giving me vibes of a himedere, especially when he orders Saitama around.) Also because he’s so ‘beautiful’ more on the effeminate side (he proudly even wears heels!) I’m not quite sure if that constitutes ‘hot’ either 🤔 (ymmv on different types of spice/energy though), but since Flash is just so...flashy, it’d be a crime not to mention him!  

Zombieman: visually his face is very easy on the eyes as one of Murata’s most handsome dudes. His noir + vampire hunter theme also counts for style points but any more belt buckles + zippers and he starts parodying a T. Nomura character. Plus Murata’s not shy about giving him cake when nude. :P He features short (simple) black hair spikes, dark-rimmed eyes, and extremely thin (almost non-existent?) eyebrows for some reason. His smoking, undead complexion, and the accidental guro of his fighting style can be turn-offs for some, but my main problem is that he’s too calm/nice! I’d like to see him get angrier to show more fire & personality of what makes him tic - to further assert himself and delineate where he morally stands. Which is why I felt his best moments were when he got angry at Dr. Genus and when he began to tease/bicker with Sweet Mask. Now that’s more like it!

Sweet Mask: technically he is very pretty, like a perfectly manufactured kpop idol, which is probably The Point. I also much prefer his current clean-cut short hairstyle over his long hairdo from earlier in the series (that one didn’t quite fit him imo.) Knowing what he is though, his ‘mask’ can feel a bit uncanny valley (with good reason). Some of his over the top antics resemble Reigen’s con-like and sweaty performances at times, which is amusing, but the other times when he swerves to his murderous impulses can be a big yikes! D: The narcissism traits and his cold asshole behavior can be seen as other negatives, but once you see his arc in the webcomic, the gravity of what he’s internally fighting sheds light on his character in a whole new way (even for Murata, who likely draws him with much more ‘care’ and understanding now too.)   

Saitama: yes, I’m 100% serious. His hard-boiled form has a strong nose, sharp but warm eyes, and a defined jawline. (His baldness doesn’t matter whatsoever.) Anyone knows he’s sporting a greek god statue of a physique under his suit too (which feels a shame Murata doesn’t capitalize on drawing more pinups of him). He walks with imposing purpose yet his presence brings a sense of ease, relief and safety. We know he could basically kill anyone just by breathing, which is 👀;;;; but he won’t because he’s a good egg with fine control of his power. His appeal is understated but approachable, and this is very important!!! (Otherwise if he’s a villain, he imbues the primal fear of being trapped in an alleyway with no escape & futile resistance, except spread over the entire world...noooo!!!) Because even as the most powerful man in existence, you could simply just run up to him to ask for a handshake and he’d be bashfully delighted to. :3 His soft egge form is also very moe (and dopey...though a bit absent-minded), while he himself likes cutesy cheap household paraphernalia as well. Bottom line, a Saitama who’s alert, serious, and impassioned (even angry enough to snarl) is very handsome and I will die on this hill. 😤 

Genos: the boy whose spirit is too much for his frame to contain. :’) But Murata, ahem, Kuseno’s really outdone himself to perfect a face that balances both sharp & rounded features in all the right places; he’s a very striking but finely sanded work of art. (My favorite: when he glows.) He gets everything that accentuates ‘pretty’: from lashes, earrings, to a defined upper lip (the only character who’s consistently drawn with one). And yet, he’s still very masculine from his strong brows, defined jawline, wide shoulders, and solid dorito figure. He also volunteers doing the housework and looks great in pink. Any man who’s responsible, dutiful, & confident in his identity like that (without ever stooping to self-absorbed vanity either) is a big plus. From his overall earnest intensity to his trigger-happy aggression, he surprisingly doesn’t express the extremes of his anger very often on his face. Giving more an air of blunt/rude aloofness that’s a bit coldly standoffish and unapproachable (brooding/repressed almost like Cloud Strife), which makes Genos feel more similar to a kuudere in temperament. However if you earn his respect, he’ll demonstrate unwavering loyalty and a fierce, unshakable overprotectiveness that rivals no other. You can securely trust him to be there for you when it absolutely counts. What a good lad! 

Garou: feral wolf boy who’s thematically all sharp, chiseled edges but for his softer, compassionate heart. :’3 (Just don’t tell him that as he’s not yet ready to face the truth~) In true temperamental tsundere fashion, he may dishonestly be in denial about his feelings, and often has difficulty navigating them, but oh does he care; he cares a LOT. No one swerves from 0 to 100 in the extreme expressions quite like him. No one sports impressive back muscles quite like his either. He also has the prettiest hands out of anyone in the cast; you’d be surprised (and entertained) to see just how elegantly he turns fighting into an artform. Gap moe also works to great effect, cause despite how he looks and tries to present himself, he’s still a huge dork and a nerd. :P (Which makes me laugh cause he’s a bit of a dummy about it - that’s a charm point.) I like his facial scar for more rugged spice. I also prefer when his hair is short(er) though, because once the ‘wolf ears’ start growing too long, they begin to look a little ridiculous on the goofy side, heh. (But ONE’s post-arc solves this.) His extremely toned (Bruce Lee inspired) body is also quite uniquely proportioned, which it seems even merch teams cannot accurately replicate, as beefy ones like Suiryu’s are too big, while Garou’s still built for dexterous speed. Murata’s not blind to what’s he’s designed either, as he happily thirsts in the fanservicey Garou pinups just as much as Fubuki’s. (They are his poster boy & girl, literally.) :P But beyond that, what gets my attention is when he seethes in righteous fury after witnessing injustice, and gives his all to violently protect the weak & innocent (whoaa, protectiveness is hot 😳). And when he snarls in the face of would-be manipulators who might order him what to do by telling them no. Firmly asserting himself where he morally stands, such that his pure heart core can’t be swayed or corrupted (edit: except when he’s forcibly violated against his will by cosmic injustice), enough to tenaciously fight & risk his life on it even, is a big yes!! 8′D Oho, now that’s some good impressive stuff right there!

Ahem, anyway if you were to point a gun at my head to force me to decide, I’d probably default to Saitama as the most solid, ‘anchor’ option. ...But that also doesn’t seem very fair. 🤔 Logically, I also know that Genos is probably the most well-rounded in an effortlessly attractive way...but he was also technically designed to be that way anyway from the start. (Like, he’s supposed to be eye-catching and gorgeous, which Murata does splendidly to capture his charms!) But, but then....if you go by gut feeling also consider whose presence sparks joy and immediately gets you hyped/energized to see more of him prevail and be himself (as an entire package, including looking forward to the person he becomes post-arc), then that would have to be...Garou. ;o; Ahhh!!! So many good opm guys to enjoy!  

#opm #saitama #genos #garou #zombieman #sweet mask #flash #otakuinthemaking #replies #long post #just my humble 2 cents #(honestly what was anyone expecting...there's probably little surprise here :P) #i probably ended up waxing too much poetic but OH WELL~ #but uwaah this still took a while to respond cause it was a bit difficult/unfair ajfkghg

[alcinadimitrescuwu]

A Modest Proposal (Alcina x Fem!Reader)

Premise: You finally muster up the courage to propose to Alcina Dimitrescu. But will everything go as planned?

Note: Even though we technically don't know Alcina's middle name, I gave her Carmilla as her middle name in homage to another beloved Sapphic vampire! :)

Warnings: blood. Steamy scenes her and there, but nothing NSFW.

As you take the last steps towards your mistress’s chambers you have to stop for a minute and take some deep breaths. The other maids had taken to giving you concerned glances all morning. Your nerves had been so fraught that a plate had slipped out of your sweaty hands and broken. You didn’t mind the stares. To everyone else, this is just an ordinary day. Not for you.

Today is the day you are going to propose to Alcina Dimitrescu.

However, you have some errands to run first. For that you are going to have to ask Alcina, ironically enough, for the rest of the day off.

You steel yourself, slap your cheeks to banish any last nerves and knock on the door.

“Come in,” you hear an elegant, mature voice call.

Lady Dimitrescu is seated at her secretary, lining up accounts for the month. Her brow is furrowed in concentration. Upon clearing your throat, she takes off her reading glasses and when she sees you a smile bursts across her face that takes your breath away.

After a year and a half of courting, you could still not believe that this beautiful woman was your lover. You take in her laugh lines and dimples, her slightly puffy cheeks that she hated but you found adorable, her carmine lips freshly painted, and her blue eyes with a corona of gold around them that you found absolutely mesmerizing.

She takes your hand and kisses your knuckles. “Yes, iubirea mea, what can I do for you?”

“I would like to take the rest of the day off if that’s alright with you,” you say in a rush.

She blinks, surprised, but then smiles. “I don’t mind. After all, you’ve been working so hard lately. Have you cleared it with the head maid?”

“Yes-” Before you can say any more, in an instant Alcina has bent down and taken you in her arms with your back against her ample bosom. You feel hot breath on your neck and her curls tickle your ears as she whispers, “We could spend the whole day together. How would you like that, pet?��

You find yourself lost for words as she moves your uniform collar and begins kissing your neck. You lean back and sigh. Her perfume is intoxicating. She moves one hand to your hip and the other begins to peel back your skirt.

You would rather do nothing more than to make love to Alcina on your day off, however there are other matters more pressing. It takes great self control to take her hands off of you. A look of hurt crosses her face. You turn around and give her a chaste kiss and hold her face in your hands. “Forgive me, darling. I would love to but I have some errands to run. May I see you later? Dinner, the usual time?”

Her expression brightens and she kisses you deeply. “I’ll look forward to tonight then,” she says, tucking a curl behind your ear.

You can only nod and when you turn around, Alcina gives you a playful slap on the bum. You look back at her and she gives you a devilish grin.

Closing the door behind you, you can’t help but let out a chuckle. Alcina’s libido, it seemed, could never be satiated. As you take a step you wince and rub your behind. That woman honestly didn’t know her own strength sometimes.

You wrap your scarf around you as you leave the castle grounds. It may be the dead of winter but you find yourself sweating from nerves. The Duke catches your eye and waves you over.

“Ah, Miss Y/N! Just the lady I wanted to see. Your package just arrived.”

You feel your breath catch but nod silently. He turns around and begins rummaging around in the store. You turn around so as to not catch a glimpse of the Duke’s massive behind and you freeze. Alcina is at the window enjoying her morning cigarette. And she is staring directly at you.

You whisper to him, “Wait.” Alcina is still looking at you as she’s taking a drag off her cigarette. Smoke wreathes her gorgeous face. You give her a nervous wave. She waves back and then hears the phone ring. With a grimace, she puts out her cigarette and steps back inside.

You turn back to the Duke. “All right. It should be fine now.”

The Duke smiles and then presents you with a box slightly larger than a normal engagement ring box. With bated breath you open the box and behold the engagement ring that you have bought for Alcina.

Getting the ring had not been easy. When the Duke had told you the price for an engagement ring, especially a custom-made ring for Alcina, you nearly cried with frustration. After all, the main purpose of you working at Castle Dimitrescu was to send back money for your aging parents. When you and Lady Dimitrescu had first begun courting and she learned of your family’s financial situation she had offered to send them money herself each month so you didn’t have to work. However, your pride would not allow it. Any money sent back to your home, you wanted to come from your labors.

Getting enough money for your parents while also raising money to buy the ring had been a long and arduous process. You had begun taking up extra shifts to make up the money. There had been many nights where you had fallen asleep on the sofa with a feather duster in your hand and Alcina had to scoop you up in her arms and carry you to bed herself. But looking in at the ring within the box, you found it had been all worth it. The ring is beautiful, around 14 karats of gold inlaid with rubies forming the House Dimitrescu crest. You are sure Alcina would love it. It had taken time to get the exact measurements of her ring finger. While Alcina was asleep, you had taken her left hand often and studied her ring finger making sure the ring fit snug but not too tight. To get the crest right, you had taken to drawing it over and over again in your off time before you had a drawing good enough to show the Duke to have it commissioned.

You look up and grin at the Duke with tears in your eyes. “Duke, it's beautiful!” you breathe. “Alcina- er, Lady Dimitrescu will love it!”

He pats your hand as you slip the box into your apron pocket. “Not a problem at all, m’dear! Good luck tonight!”

With that done, you head back to the castle. You practically skip back to the gates, taking out the box every so often and peeking inside. Your joy dissipates when you realize what the next item on your to do list is.

Asking for Lady Dimitrescu’s daughters’ blessing.

When you walk in, you actually run into them getting ready to go out. Bela smiles at you as she adjusts Daniela’s cowl on her traveling cloak. “Y/N! Good to see you! Mother told us you had taken the day off.”

Cassandra pipes up, “We were just going out to go hunting! Want to come with us?”

“Actually I wanted to talk to you all about something,” you say as you look around the foyer for any sign of the girls’ mother. “Is there somewhere private we can all talk? Preferably somewhere your mother doesn’t frequent?”

Daniela’s eyes glitter mischievously. “Oooh, keeping secrets are we? Come on, I know a perfect place we can hide!”

Daniels leads the pack to the library. “Mother usually practices her singing around this time,” she says over her shoulder. “So there’s not a chance she’ll overhear anything you say.”

Sure enough, you hear Lady Dimitrescu’s voice singing an elaborate coloratura from upstairs. Perfect.

Daniela’s hands run over the panels in the wall. “Now where is it….Aha there it is!” Daniela picks up a loose panel on the wall and puts it to the side. She steps in and backons the rest of you forward.

There is no light in this room save for torches every couple meters. The room can’t be much more than 6 feet tall, so there was no way Lady Dimitrescu could fit in properly. “We used to hide from Mother here all the time as children,” Daniela winks conspiratorially at you.

Cassandra begins jumping up and down excitedly. “Now what’s the secret? Tell us! Tell us!”

You take a deep breath and then let it out. “All right...Tonight I am planning on proposing to your mother and-”

You are cut off by the girls’ cries of jubilation. Daniela runs over and gives you a big hug. Bela has burst into happy tears. Cassandra continues jumping up and down and chanting, “Bonus mom! Bonus mom!”

You can’t help but laugh. “Does that mean I have your blessing?”

“Of course!” they yell in unison.

Bela says excitedly, “The ring! Do you have a ring?”

Blushing furiously you nod and take out the black velvet box and open it. They “ooh” and “aah” and take turns looking at it before they finally relinquish it back to you. As you put the box back into your pocket, you say, “Well girls, I need to start getting ready. Please make sure not to do anything to arouse your mother’s suspicions. I want it to be a surprise.”

The girls nod their assent, but Cassandra interjects, “Do you need help getting ready? We want you to be looking your best for tonight!”

Everyone enthusiastically agrees and you can’t help but smile fondly at the girls. You may be closer in age to them, but ever since you had begun courting their mother, you loved them like they were your own children. “All right, if you insist.”

The girls cheer and Cassaandra takes you by the hand and leads you back to your room to get ready.

15 minutes before your meeting with Lady Dimitrescu you take a look in the mirror. The girls truly outdid themselves on your makeover. Daniela had curled your hair and it hung in ringlets over your shoulders. Cassandra had given you one of her dresses, a red column dress that was backless with a plunging neckline. This wasn’t the sort of thing you would normally wear, but you had to admit the silhouette was very flattering, highlighting your natural curves. The best part: it had pockets large enough to hide the ring box! Bela was on makeup duty, giving you wingtips sharper than Alcina’s claws and a smokey eye. You spritz on some rosewater perfume and head out. As you pass the hall mirror, you consider putting your hair up in a chignon but think better of it. Alcina had always liked your hair best when it was down.

When you are at the door to Alcina’s chambers you take a deep breath before knocking on the door. “Come in, iubirea mea,” Alcina’s voice purrs within.

You head inside and Alcina has her back turned on you, lighting the candelabras at the table she has set up for you two. “I’ve needed this, my love. You should’ve heard what that fool Heisenberg-”

She stops and stares at you. You can’t help but feel self-conscious as she takes you in. She finally sets the candlestick she was using to light the others back in the candelabra and heads purposefully towards you. She scoops you up in her arms and kisses you deeply, burying her hands in your curls. She breaks the kiss and strokes your cheek. “You look beautiful,” she says breathlessly.

You can’t help but blush at the compliment. “So do you,” you reply as she sets you down gently, praying she doesn’t hear the box rustling in your skirts. She takes your hand and leads you to your seat where she pulls out your chair for you. You take her hand that is resting on the back of your seat and kiss it.

Dinner proceeds as normal at first. You listen to her talk about her day, which takes your mind off the proposal for a bit. Then she puts it at the forefront of your mind when she says, “I saw you talking to the merchant this morning. Did you have anything special coming in?”

Your mouth goes dry. How do you respond to that? “Oh, no. He just wanted to chat. You know how he gets!”

Alcina purses her lips but nods eventually. “Indeed.”

Awkward silence settles over you for a bit. Then she begins talking again, this time ranting about Heisenberg and you almost sigh in relief. This is easy. You just have to listen and agree with whatever she says.

“And then do you know what that fool called me? He called me a ‘simp’ for Mother Miranda! I didn’t even know what that was. I had to ask my daughters and when they told me of course I was infuriated.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I mean, a simp? Me? Ha! Imagine! He’s just jealous because he wishes that he had half the devotion that I have for her!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you think I’m a simp?”

“Uh-huh.”

She glares at you from across the table. Damn. She’s caught you.

You stumble over your words trying to correct your stupid blunder. “I mean, no! Of course you’re not a simp! Where would he get that idea?”

Alcina leans across the table and takes your chin in her hand, forcing you to look directly into her eyes. “Am I boring you, pet?” she asks, a dangerous edge to her voice.

“Er, no! No, I'm having a great time!” you say, smiling stupidly at her.

Alcina lets go of your chin and settles back in her chair, crossing her arms. Her stormy expression can’t disguise the look of hurt on her face. “You were the one that suggested we meet tonight, darling. I can’t see why you would want to if you’re not going to at least attempt to be present with me.”

“I’m sorry, darling. I-”

She turns away from you, her large hat blocking her expression. “Maybe you should go.” She gets up and crosses the room to open the door.

No, no, God, no this can’t be happening. This is your worst nightmare. You can’t let her open the door, you just can’t.

You practically fall to one knee. “Alcina!”

“What?” she snaps, turning her head toward you. Her expression softens as she sees that you are down on one knee with the box open. Her chest rises and falls rapidly as she says so quietly you have to lean to hear it, “Draga mea, what are you doing?”

You had a big speech prepared for this. But everything else has gone to hell in a handbasket, so you might as well get it over with. “Alcina Carmilla Dimitrescu, will you marry me?”

Alcina just stands there and stares. The tears that had been building in her eyes now spill over as she kneels down to your level and gives you a passionate kiss.

You smile against her lips and break the kiss. “Does that mean yes?”

“Yes, my darling,” she gives you a watery smile and caresses your jaw. “Yes.”

With trembling hands you take the ring out of the box and slip it on her left ring finger. She lifts her hand and inspects the new ring in the chandelier light. The rubies catch the light, nearly blinding you with their brilliance.

“How does it fit? It’s not too tight?”

She beams at you, positively radiating with joy. “It fits perfectly.” She then rises and heads over to her dresser and opens the top drawer. To your surprise, she pulls out a red box with the Dimitrescu family crest on the top. She sinks to one knee and presents you with an old, but beautiful ring. It must have been passed down through the Dimitrescu bloodline for generations.

Your face feels hot and you feel tears welling up in your eyes. She gently takes your arm. “Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” She wipes the tears that have already begun cascading your cheeks. “It is tradition for House Dimitrescu to propose with the family ring to symbolize the unification of two houses. I had been planning to propose to you next week. You beat me to it, you clever girl.” She takes your hand and slips the Dimitrescu family ring on your ring finger. It is slightly larger than your finger, but you don’t care. You couldn’t be happier.

Alcina takes you into her lap and kisses you passionately. In between kisses, she queries, ”All those extra shifts you took. They were all for me?”

“Yes, my love,” you say breathlessly. “All for you.”

She stands up and takes you in her arms. You wrap your arms around her neck as she deepens the kiss, exploring your mouth with her tongue. You can taste salty tears on her lips. She carries you over to the bed kissing you the whole time and sets you down gently. She kneels over you on the bed and you rest your leg on her hip. The slit in your skirt rises up, exposing your stockinged leg. After putting her hand gently on your shoulder, Alcina begins kissing your neck. You lean back into the cushions and sigh.

You hear a low moan in her throat, almost like a whine as she kisses your pulse point. You don’t say anything; you just nod. Soon enough you feel the sharp but familiar sensation of Alcina’s fangs piercing your neck. She holds you against her body and you bury your hands in her curls, causing her hat to fall off. Briefly taking her hand off your shoulder, she slaps the hat aside like it was so much rubbish. You take pleasure in every sigh, every moan, every exclamation you elicit from her as she drinks. When she finally stops drinking she wipes her mouth and gives you a seductive smirk. “Good girl,” she purrs.

Alcina’s mouth is on yours again as she undoes your halter while you unhook her garter. She breaks the kiss and cradles your face in her hands. “Te iubesc, draga mea.”

You take her hand and kiss it while saying, “And I you, Alcina.”

The two of you make love until the sun rises the next morning.

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #re8 village #daniela dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #re8 fanfiction #lady dimitrescu fanfic #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina x reader #alcina x maiden #lady dimitrescu x female reader

[couldntbedamned]

Til the Veins Start to Shiver

Bruce Banner/Reader

Summary:  You decide to tease Bruce with some provocative photos while he's working.  Bruce decides to tease you right back, and then some.

Warnings/AO3 Tags:  Teasing, swearing, derogatory language, dirty talk, Bruce Banner has a filthy mouth, dom/sub undertones, orgasm delay/denial, oral sex, multiple orgasms, forced orgasms, overstimulation, size kink, aftercare

Author’s Note: Written for the fabulous and talented @boop-le-snoot. Inspired by this post here on Tumblr.

Til the Veins Start to Shiver

- - - - 

Bruce was about to lose it. He’d told you not to send him such provocative pictures while he was trying to work.

But you didn’t like to listen. You wanted him to lose it, wanted him to wake up and realize that as delicate looking as you could appear, you weren't breakable.

He wrapped up his work as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself and then stalked towards his floor. His sound-proofed, Hulk-proofed floor.

You were waiting for him, of course.  Smiling as if butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth.  Smiling as if you’d won.

“Was it fun, baby, teasing me like that?”

You giggled. “Yes.”

“I hope it was. Because I like to tease, too. And I’m much, much better at it.” He pulled off his glasses and set them down on the dresser, began to unbutton his shirt.

“Get on the bed.”

“But what about my clothes?” Soft, pretty, lacy things.

“Do you really think I’ll let something like clothes get in my way? I thought you were smarter than that, baby.”

“It’s been a couple of hours, baby. How do you like teasing now?” Bruce asked. His face was wet from your pussy that he’d been eating off and on, forcing you up, up, and up but never letting you crash over. His fingers, also wet, drew messy little shapes all over your thighs and stomach.

“What’s the matter baby? Are you cock-dumb already? I haven’t even split you open on my cock yet.”

“P-please.”

You’d lost count of how many times he denied you, only knew that you needed to come more than you needed your next breath.

“But you like teasing,” Bruce chided, mock hurt all over his face.

“I guess there’s nothing else left then,” he finally said. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You grab his arm before he can pull away, a feat of speed you had no idea how you managed. “Ple-ease, B-bruce. Fuck m-me.”

“Oh, you want me to fill that needy little cunt of yours?  Want me to split you open and fuck you like a dumb little doll I can toss and throw around?”

You nodded, desperate. “Y-yeah. Use me.”

“Sweet, dumb little baby, thinking you can tease me like that, that you’ll win. But you know better now, don’t you? Sir is so much smarter than you.”

Bruce pulled you onto him, held you over his monstrously thick cockhead, tinged with green and so much bigger than he’d previously fucked you with.

“You wanted this,” he cooed in your ear before he forced the head inside of your soaking cunt.

It was a stretch. Holy fuck, even with the hours of finger-fucking and oral sex it was a stretch and so, so much. But he didn’t stop, used his strength to pull you down onto him and your thighs trembled and your cunt pulsed and you didn’t know how you were going to survive it.

“I’m almost halfway in,” he told you, raising you up just a bit before forcing you down until you could feel him hitting your cervix… maybe even feel him in your throat. The hair around the root of his cock and balls would have probably tickled if you could have felt anything other than every single pulsing veined inch of him inside you.

“Pretty baby, full of my cock just like a dumb little girl like you should be.” He didn’t thrust but with every slight movement, fire raced through you. It was too much it was too much it was too much!

“And what do you say to Sir, when he’s filled your pretty little cunt with his big cock?”

You whimpered, tears falling.

He jerked his hips up and your cervix shifted and you cried out.

“Well?”

“T-th-ank y-you S-ir.”

“If you can still form words, I’m not doing my job.”

He started to properly fuck you, pulling you up and down, pausing a few times to add some lube in an act of mercy you didn’t think you’d get. The lube helped to a point, but a cock half-way between Bruce and the Hulk was not meant to be taken by mortal cunts like yours.

The battering of your cervix started to… not quite change from pain, but kind of meld with a deep sort of buzzing that signaled an orgasm you didn’t think you could walk away from.

“Baby girl, finally being so good for me, letting me use her just like she needs. Just let go, baby. You’re too pretty to think, just empty that head and I’ll empty into you.”

His fingers started playing with your clit while he used you like a fleshlight and when your orgasm tore through you with a violence you had never felt before, you felt yourself soak his cock and then collapsed bonelessly against him.

He continued to work in and out of you, his cock leaving no micrometer of your cunt unclaimed.

When he finally came, it was with a loud groan-bordering on-roar. The spill of his release was hot in your womb. There was so much and it squelched out with every thrust as he continued to milk his orgasm with your cunt.

“Look at my pretty baby,” he said adoringly as he lifted you off his softening monster of a cock and laid you back on the bed where you laid useless and splayed-legged.

Bruce kissed you, stroked his hands all over you lovingly as if checking to see that you were still there with him.

He didn’t move to clean you up, but you were too tired, too… cock dumb to care. Instead, he slipped something up your hips, around your ass. Then something slid inside you and settled in place. Something else pressed against your clit.

“I hope you enjoyed that orgasm, baby. Because I’m not done teasing you, yet.”

Vibrations started, sent fireworks across your clit, and you realized he’d locked a vibrator in place with the belt he’d pulled onto you. The shaft inside of you began to vibrate, too.

“There’s my pretty, cock-dumb baby. You look so pretty when you come for me, especially when you’re needy and crying.”

He settled back to take in the sight of you. He stroked his soft cock, idly.

"It’s always so fun to see how you plan to keep me from working too hard, baby. I have to admit, this is more satisfying than the equations I was working on. I might just have to keep this up all night."

With a sobbing moan, you came, and feeling no retreat from the vibrators, sobbed some more.

“My pretty baby has some smart ideas sometimes,” Bruce said fondly. “Not as smart as mine, but I love her anyways.”

- - - - -

Much later, as you fought sleep while lying next to Bruce, wearing your coziest pjs and wrapped in your favorite fluffy blanket, after Bruce had reverently and gently cleaned you and held you in the hot tub filled with soaking salts and oils and had hand-fed you your favorite snacks and held water for you to sip all while telling you how brilliant and wonderful and precious you were, how much he loved you and your intelligence, you had to agree to disagree to a point.

Bruce Banner may have earned seven Ph.D.’s, but you had gotten want you wanted, after all.

#bruce banner x reader #bruce banner smut #reader x bruce banner #couldntbedamned fic

[achillieus]

let you down. (sebastian stan x reader)

summary: it's a universal truth but it's worth repeating; feelings eat us raw. or just an actor and a girl falling in and out of love over the course of three months.

(this was inspired by sebastian's visit to greece for his movie, monday, and is based on that, so that means in the story we’re in 2018. also i have this posted on ao3 too but while i’m writing the last parts i thought of posting it here too)

pairing: sebastian stan x reader

warnings: alcohol, sexual references, implied depression, don’t kill me because of the ending, sebastian and reader are the definition of right person wrong time, it's kinda slowburn because i love the yearning, also this part has some funny moments but overall it’s a big SOB

part: 6/6 (there will also be an epilogue)

(other parts)   (masterlist)

This is how it ends: broken hearts from crashed dreams.

Sebastian holds you until his muscles ache and your lungs burn from the feeling of too little oxygen. It is cold and dark, almost midnight, too dark, a starless night.

No more stars for you and I.

“Here,” Voice hoarse, eyes heavy-lid and itching from almost crying. He gives you one of the rings he wore in the movie. “I want you to keep this.”

Keep it close to your heart. Forget me not.

He takes a breath and a step back, tries to regain all the strength he still has, steady feet and shoulders fixed. He digs his nails into his palms, red marks in his skin, air catching in his throat, he’s on the verge of falling but he stays standing.

He remembers tears glistening down his cheeks, maybe they were yours not his, and the cold autumn wind hitting his face and he remembers feeling like he’s dying.

And then he closes the door of Argyris’ car and looks at you.

And his heart stretches and stretches and stretches and then somehow splits in half.

/

It goes like this:

There’s a ghost that lives in your apartment from now on. In the living room. Sitting on the couch. And it has steel blue eyes and a familiar heart. And it whispers a love story, half-finished, and you cannot make it stop.

The ghost touches your collarbone and he’s gone but there’s a ring in a golden chain around your neck and a white shirt forgotten in your laundry. And it smells like him. The clinging scent of his aftershave sticking to your pores. Eucalyptus. And no matter how hard you try to wash it off, it still lingers.

How could I ever forget someone like you?

The ghost lives here, but the place is empty, so empty. And it’s hard not to cry.

/

Sebastian calls and texts a lot.

He tells you he’s tired but excited because he started filming a new movie. It’s very indie and experimental, I can’t wait for you to see it. He tells you he’s missing his days in Greece like hell and that one night he dreamt of you. Didn’t want to wake up. What he doesn’t tell you is that he’s coming back in a month, Argyris needs him for some extra scenes. It’s nearly killing him but he doesn’t tell you. He wants to surprise you, see the pure light in your eyes when they’ll meet his.

/

You try sexting. It doesn’t go very well.

23:50, sebastian: if you were here in my bed right now what would you be doing

06:51, you: probably falling asleep hahaha

06:51, you: oh fuck was i supposed to sext back

06:51, you: sorry seb i just woke up and i have a class in an hour, love you <3

23:52, sebastian: fuck timezones

/

(three weeks and 10 seconds later)

“I can’t believe she doesn’t know you’re here,” Argyris shakes his head as he’s driving home from the airport, “If I were her, I’d kill you.”

“Good thing I didn’t fall in love with you.”

Sebastian laughs and looks out of the car window. The stars. There are so many stars tonight. He holds his breath; he’s finally feeling whole again. His heart isn’t split in two anymore.

/

You don’t know how long you stand there at your door, staring at him, but it feels like a century before he grins, almost laughs, takes your hands in his and you start considering that perhaps this isn’t a hallucination. Perhaps it’s real.

“Surprise?”

Something inside of you bursts, your organs twitch. You can’t think, you can’t speak, but you can move. You don’t lose any more time, you take a step forward, attach your bodies, your face buried in his neck, your fingers clutching into the rough fabric of his jacket. You breathe him in like an antidote.

“How?”

“Does it matter?”

“No.”

You kiss him and it’s like poetry, like art, like honey and you can’t separate yourself from him, not even hours later.

/

(looking back, these were the golden days)

You pretending to be mad at him for not telling you he was coming back and him pressing his lips on your skin, drawing patterns on your naked shoulder. A feathery touch.

Sebastian always touches you like you’re something made of gold and porcelain, something cherished that constantly needs to be treasured. And nobody has done that before. And you love him for it.

You try to decorate your Christmas tree together. He messes with the lights for a while, eventually gives up and goes on to eat too many reindeer shaped cookies.

He massages your muscles when you write a boring essay for college.

You go with him when he has to shoot a “driving a motorcycle naked in the centre of Athens” scene and you bite the inside of your cheeks to stop smiling like an idiot.

He gives you a dress he bought for you in New York.  

“You didn’t have to.”

“I know, but I wanted to.”

He calls you sweetheart in the mornings, still half asleep and later joins you in the shower.

“Why are you so hot?”

“Climate change”

“Oh, shut up”

It’s tender and it’s soft and it’s human.

And that’s the saddest part.

/

Soon you realize that him leaving two months ago was merely a rehearsal and you still haven’t said your actual goodbyes. Your chest starts to feel as if it’s full of crushed glass.

And it’s ridiculous because you fell in love with Sebastian sometime between the first ten days you spent together.

Who falls in love in ten days?  

Ridiculous or not, you know you are in love with him just as you know that sooner or later, whatever he is feeling will fade and wither. Maybe it’ll be in a week, maybe it’ll be in a month, maybe in a year if you’re lucky. But there will definitely come a day when he will step out of a gala or a party or a fancy gym in New York with a beautiful model in his arms and two paparazzi’s following him around.

What will you be then?

A past small cameo in his life. A side character. Will he remember your name?

He is your whole world.

(a bottle of cheap prosecco helps you decide that)

He is your whole world.

And yet, there will come a day when he won’t even remember your name.

/

It was difficult. No, it was the most difficult thing you’ve ever done. Telling him how you think it’d be better if you didn’t talk after he leaves.

“I don’t agree with this.”

“Seb, it’s for the best.”

Your body doesn’t feel strong enough to carry your heart. And you’re certain it will only get worse once he’s away. The world around you will melt. You’ll obsess over a phone screen and his messages. You’ll start chasing ghosts again. You can’t handle that.

“Why?” He says urgently and his fingers dance over the flesh of your palms.

“Because this”, you motion your hand between the two of you, “is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever had in my life and I don’t want it to become ugly.”

He nods, he understands.

“I love you, you know,” he says smiling and tugs you closer to him, “And I may not be here to show you but I think I’ll love you for a long time.”

Your hand grips his waist right to the bones and something flares in your eyes, something wild that wrenches you around.

“I know, I’ll love you the same.”

“Maybe we’ll meet again.”

“Only if I’m the luckiest girl on the planet.”

He laughs and you look at him, fully aware he’ll be ripped out of your life like a page from a cheap leather notebook. And when you kiss for the last time, there’s a hole forming in your soul.

And just because endings don’t leave visible scars to one’s body and soul, that doesn’t mean the scars don’t exist. You know they do, because you feel the aching pain of every single one of them.

/

(every night when you close your eyes you see him)

(every night you look at the stars and think of him)

/

A month passes and Argyris asks you if you miss him.

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

“He said the exact same thing.”

You tell him not to mention Sebastian again.

Two months pass and you need to stop stalking his instagram profile.

Three months pass and you almost text him.

Four months pass and you go to watch Endgame with some friends and you cry. You cry when Black Widow sacrifices herself and when Iron Man smiles at his wife while dying, and when Bucky Barnes appears on screen.

The others don’t understand and you don’t blame them.

Five months pass and Argyris’ girlfriend wants you to meet someone. A charming boy your age with blonde hair and a lip piercing.

And he's cute but you compare him to Sebastian even before he has the chance to say his name. His eyes are not the right shade of blue and he doesn’t look at you like you’re made of the world’s finest jewel.

And he doesn’t know any constellation names.

And then more than a year passes in a second and you learn to not look for him. Not anymore.

/

It’s early March 2020 and despite the rising fear of the upcoming pandemic, you’re doing well. Scars are starting to fade. And after spending two weeks in Prague, your best friend being there with an exchange program, Sebastian Stan is the farthest thing from your mind.

Until he literally comes crashing into you. At the airport.

No, it can’t be him.

You have your suitcase on one hand and a bottle of antiseptic gel on the other. He has two bodyguards on his sides and a black hoodie on.  And while half of his face is hidden behind a mask, you can see his eyes perfectly. A frozen lake in December. You would know those eyes in your deathbed, at the end of the world.

Your vision gets blurry and suddenly you feel cold.

He won’t recognize me, he can’t.

But then he looks at you and every memory you had buried inside of you resurfaces.

He motions to his guards to wait for him and he starts walking towards you. You breathe slowly, one breath at a time. He takes his mask off and you hesitate to take yours, not sure if you truly want him to see you.

You exchange the typical and very awkward hi, how are you, i’m glad you’re doing okay and then he smiles and it feels comfortable. Familiar.

It’s the whiff of another time that you always kept around. A reminder that you were once loved by a god.

“What are you doing here?”

“Filming Falcon and the Winter Soldier”

If you hadn’t unfollowed him on instagram, you’d known.

“Ah yes I heard about that, congrats.”

He nods a thank you.

“And you? In Prague?”

“I was at a friend.”

He looks conflicted, hurt, turns his gaze to his shoes on the grey cement. You want to say something, but you feel like throwing up.

And then he laughs.

“I was right.”

You’re confused, he notices.

“Back in Greece,” he swallows, “I told you this would happen.”

“It would have been an airport, different gates for each of us, but same waiting hall. Or a Greek island, where we’d both be for the summer.”

“I would have found you.”

You remember and you cannot help but smile. He was right. He found you.

“I didn’t believe you then.”

I barely believe you now.

He touches your hair. And his touch is like a knife. And you want to cry. Magnolias under your tongue. A love long lost is whispering in your ears until it hurts to listen. He’s like a magnetic field and you feel yourself drowning in him.

“I bet they’ll ask me a hundred questions about you later.” He says and looks at the two men waiting for him.

“And what will you tell them?”

“That you’re most probably the love of my life.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

“There’s no way we’d meet here if you’re not.”

“Sebastian,” His name sounds like a prayer coming out of your lips and you're ready to tell him you love him and you can swear he looks like he’s ready to faint, “I-”

The guards yell his name. And it's the same feeling people have just before a car crash.

“I’m sorry, I have to go.”

One last look.

Don’t cry, don’t cry.

You repeat it over and over again. But you fail.

“No, don't cry” He smiles, one last smile, “Just look at the stars and wait for us to meet again, because we will.”

He caresses the back of your palm for a second and you think your ribcage is shattering but it’s only your heart drumming frantically. Pushing your fragile bones to break. 

You want to stop him, wrap your arms around his torso, never let him go. Not again. But you don’t.

You just watch him leave, one more time, your knees weak, your head heavy and dizzy. For the split of a moment he turns and glances at you but then he’s nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps it was all in your imagination. Perhaps it was nothing but a wonder.

You get into your plane and you silently sob.

/

And then it’s summer.

And you overhear he was seen with a girl, the day before your vacation starts and you find a picture of them together a week later, a pretty blonde girl clinging to his side with a colorful bikini somewhere in Spain. And he’s smiling. And you feel so ashamed. And so stupid.

They say time heals all wounds but they must be wrong because you can’t forget how he used to smile at you or how he used to call you the love of his life.

Was he joking when he said you'll meet again? You bet if you asked him now, he wouldn't even remember saying it.

I’ll love you for a long time.

So long for nothing.

/

i really appreciate feedback, it motivates me tons and also tell me if you’d like to be tagged :) also i’m really sorry if you asked me to tag you and i didn’t  but i lost a lot of asks and the urls of the people that sent them :( 

tagging: @lharrietg @awkward117 @dannaloureen @broccoligf @cutestfangirlvevo @caitdaniels @arymb @buckybarnesishot310 @roguesthetic @itsaliceheree @sara-1705 @dorothea-hwldr @freshfreakoaftrash @drinkfantasy @christinamcdonnell ​@partypoison00 ​ @90ssantiago

#sebastianstan #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan imagine #letyoudown #monday the movie #sebastian stan angst #sebastian stan x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader

[after-witch]

In Sickness [Yandere Sesshoumaru x Reader]

Title: In Sickness [Yandere Sesshoumaru x Reader]

Synopsis: You were not often alone with the demon lord who took you captive. Then again, you were not often touched by the demon lord who took you captive, either.

Word Count: 2029

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, mentions of illness

You were not often alone with the demon lord who took you captive.

Then again, you were not often touched by the demon lord who took you captive. Yet here he was, bent over you, hands wringing out a rag he’d just dipped in a pail of river water. You barely register his fingers glancing against your skin, the slight sharpness of his nail edges, as he lays the damp rag on your forehead.

You can’t help it. At the touch of the damp rag, you sigh, soft and pleased. The coolness is blissful, a brief respite from the fever that has been wearing you down for days.

“You are a nuisance,” he mumbles, grimacing at droplets of river water that dribbled their way onto the elevated mat he’d set you on. To keep you away from the cold ground, you supposed, but you hadn’t the ability to care about his unusual generosity.

Once it had become clear that your illness was no minor trifle, he’d sent Rin away with Jaken as unwilling, grumpy but admittedly loyal protector. Where they were, you didn’t know and truthfully, you didn’t have the strength to care. It was hard enough to muster up the energy to care about your own self, drenched with sweat yet wracked with bouts of shivers that alternated with fevers that made your dreams terribly real.

It had started small. A tickle in your throat, a bit of weariness. You were tired, more so than usual, more so than you expected. But it wasn’t until the fever came and refused to leave, until your legs became red and swollen and could no longer carry you, until you started to become delirious, that Sesshoumaru had taken direct action. Jaken and Rin were gone, and you were taken somewhere. A cave? It was a shelter, at least, something more permanent than the campfires and group sleeps you were used to in recent months.

And Sesshoumaru had tended to you, quietly, without much in the way of conversation. You slept most of the time, half-awakening to hear him grinding medicine and waiting until it was placed on your swollen legs, or in your mouth mixed with hot water, to fall back into a listless sleep. You wonder how long you will be able to recall the feeling of his hands on you, the unusual way he sometimes bent over you and stared, checking your breathing, feeling your forehead.

It was intimate and uncomfortable, but you couldn’t be bothered to fight it.

You were just so sick. You were just so tired.

Yet you weren’t exactly a stranger to fatigue, to stress, particularly since the day you’d been forced to go with the demon. Stress dragged you down, often making you wish you could sleep for days, a luxury that was not afforded due to the frequently traveling nature of your captor. 

That day that came back to you so often in your dreams, and was now a memory that ebbed and flowed with your fevers.

Did you talk about that day, in your feverish ramblings? Sesshoumaru acknowledged what you said sometimes only with passive noises, either uncaring or not wanting to encourage your incoherent words, intent on making you better and resuming the original course.

You really were a nuisance. So why did he keep you? You’d never asked him this out of fear. You’d certainly never questioned his decision to keep you alive, much less questioned why he wanted you in the first place. Why he agreed to the wild offering thrown before him.

Your village elders had begged the passing demon lord Sesshoumaru to lay waste to a band of lesser demons that plagued the village for years. Men, women, children, even animals--taken and slaughtered in unspeakable ways. Sometimes even killed in their homes, partially eaten. It was not unusual to wake in the morning to piercing cries from mothers finding their children mangled in their beds, or hear husbands wail in agony at the loss of much-beloved wives on the way home from fetching water.

You remember the day so clearly. Like the rest of the people in the village, you were watching from your home, peering out the door like a child, as the elders got down on their knees and begged for assistance from a demon who’d passed along the outskirts of the village.

You remember the shock of his long white hair, his luxurious clothing, his imposing presence that seemed strong enough to make you shake even from behind the safety of the doorway.

He didn’t even bother saying no. He’d simply glared at them as if they were dirt and began to walk away. Then one of the elders pivoted on his knees, spitting out words that would turn out to seal your fate: “We will give you one of our women as an offering! Please, o great lord!”

Still, he did not stop, and the elder let out a shaky cry. Then the elder stood on wobbling knees and looked wildly around the village until his eyes landed on your half-open door, your face barely peeking out of it. He was a man who’d witnessed your birth, a man who’d once given you a special treat for free when you tripped and skin your knee as a child, a man who had serious conversations with you in recent weeks about finding a husband as surely someone so dutiful and kind did not wish to remain with her parents forever.

He was also a man who’d run to your home, quick as you’d ever seen him, and yanked you out of the doorway until you fumbled and fell over on the ground. His hands were sweaty with fear yet they clamped around your wrist like a weight.

“This one will make an excellent servant! She can cook and clean and embroider! Or you may have her--or, or kill her! Whatever you wish! Please, please,” he’d begged again, bowing low while keeping an iron grip on your wrist.

You remember the sound of wind in your ears. You remember the feeling of pain in your knees, in your elbow, where you’d fallen hard. You remember the soft scratch of the door opening, the way your neck twisted around to see your parents and brother hiding behind one another, simply watching you. You remember the look on their faces, confused and scared yet saying nothing. Why didn’t they pull you back in?

And then you remember the sound of footsteps approaching. It was the demon. You looked up and he loomed over you, staring impassively at your form. He didn’t bother glancing at the elder, who was now trembling as much as you.

“Very well,” he said quietly, yet with a tone that was unmistakably firm. “She is mine. In exchange, I will kill some vermin for you.”

A sound rushed through the villagers from behind their doors. Sometimes when the wind blows just right, you’re reminded of it. It was a murmur, a gasp, a collective sound that was relief and sadness all at once. They would be saved from the demons at the expense of one of their own. A sacrifice.

You remember pulling on your arm, crying out something. Did you cry for your mother or your father? You can’t remember now. It didn’t matter. They had already shut the door, and the sound of your sister crying from behind it was the only noise that came through.

Someone tied a rope around your wrists. You kicked, and the rope was jerked until you were standing on numb legs. You had no choice but to walk, to be dragged, as the demon held onto the other end and simply left the village without another word. You cried, you begged, you feverishly cried out to the people watching from behind the doors, to the elders who clutched their hands but watched you leave all the same.

He took you. But he didn’t kill you, or have you, or even make you a tireless servant to his demonic whims. He simply expected you to pull your weight, or at least, that’s what the green imp--Jaken, you’d learned--told you was the expectation. So you helped to cook, you helped to mend clothes, you minded Rin. Nothing more or less than the others were expected to do.

You were kept bound when not doing your chores for a few weeks. When he’d taken the rope off, you’d waited for the moment and run--not that you got far or got anything than a few more weeks with the rope for your troubles.

You hadn’t tried to run for a while. It did no good. And the areas you’d traveled through were sometimes riddled with demons or wild animals that would surely kill someone such as yourself with little effort, should you try to make it on your own.

With Sesshoumaru, you were fed. You got enough rest. You were protected. Not that you didn’t wish every day to return home, to sit with your family for meals, to chase your sister around and tease her to get her to laugh when she felt blue. Not that you didn’t hate being sometimes treated like a pest, like a dog, when it wasn’t your choice to be here in the first place. But at least you were still alive, still able to hope you would see your family again some day.

A sigh from lips that weren’t your own draws you out of your memories, sweeping away the memory of that day and every day of captivity since like dirt being beaten out o f fabric.

You open your eyes, grateful for the soft light in the cave, and see Sesshoumaru sitting across from you, his back up against the stone wall. Your head feels clearer, less foggy, less hot, thanks to the rag and you decide to sit up a bit. Laying down all the time makes you feel dizzy. He watches with no change in expression as you wiggle yourself into a higher position, wiggling yourself back on the mat until you’re resting against the wonderfully cool stone.

You stare at each other for a few moments. The sound of the fire he’d set up further in the cave is low, crackling. You try to imagine him gathering wood, crouching low to do the mundane work that you and Rin and Jaken often did, and it seems ridiculous.

You try to imagine these things in order to avoid asking a question that has been on your mind since the moment the ropes had chafed your wrists, the moment you’d been forced to stumble after him.

But you can’t avoid it forever, and finally, you speak.

“Why did you take me?”

You would never dare to ask this question if the others were here, if Sesshoumaru hadn’t been tending to you, intimate and up close, for days. But the fever and the strangeness of the situation has made you feel clearheaded in a bold, perhaps too much so, way.

He simply stares at you for a few moments, and you think that he will choose to ignore you until his gaze shifts almost imperceptibly to the side.

“You were offered to me.”

It is your turn to offer a passive noise. The answer he gives is is nothing. At least nothing that makes sense to you, makes sense of your situation.

“Why didn’t you kill me, then?” Surely there was a reason, since he didn’t make you a hapless servant, either. “I was supposed to be a sacrifice.” Or you were meant to be. Instead he’s made you something altogether in-between. You weren’t worked to the bone or treated terribly, but you couldn’t leave. You weren’t killed, but you weren’t any more useful than his willing companions, either.

You don’t get the answer you wanted. Or any answer at all. Instead, he merely scoffs, and stands up to leave the cave. He pauses at the entrance, waiting until you turn towards him to speak.

“I will not take long.” He gestures towards the mat with one hand. “Go to sleep. And refrain from asking such stupid questions when you wake up.”

#yandere sesshoumaru #yandere sesshomaru #sesshomaru x reader #yandere inu yasha #afterwitch writes #you were right 'non in the inbox!

[fernweh-writes]

I don't know if you already did this before but- what about the slashers reaction to a S/O that works as a tatoo artist?

I have not done this before, but this also reminded me I do need to update my masterlist so thank you. It’s the holiday weekend so we’ll see how well I can write…

-Fern🌿

Tattoo Artist S/O

Michael Myers

He would 100% let you tattoo him. Michael has probably always wanted a tattoo and just never had the means to get one. It’s hard to walk into a shop when you’re a wanted murderer after all. Plus, he most likely doesn’t trust other people enough to let them tattoo him. So feel special, cause it means he trusts you enough to take off his shirt and let you repeatedly poke him with a needle.

Michael respects tattooing as an art form. It takes a lot of dedication and precision to permanently place an image upon a persons skin.

He also just thinks it’s neat. Especially if you’ve done some of your own tattoos. He likes the way they look on your skin.

Probably has a weak spot for any red tattoos you have. We all know Michael loves the color red, especially on you.

Bo Sinclair

Again, would let you tattoo him but only after he trusts you enough. He can’t have you suddenly going rouge and trying to harm him with a tattoo gun. And lets be honest with ourselves here, Bo has trust issues so it’s going to take awhile.

He’s very indecisive about what he would want though. Luckily you know him well enough to come up with a few rough sketches of different ideas and placements just… pinky promise it will look good.

Also loves the tattoos on your own skin. Especially the more intricate ones with a lot of detail. He thinks that tattoos are hot in general.

Would try and get you to tattoo his name on yourself.

Vincent Sinclair

Vincent is glad that his S/O is also into art. He thinks you’re really good at what you do and loves to admire your work. I also believe that Vincent has a bit of a superiority complex… so h would be glad you’re into different art forms than he is because he doesn’t feel like he can be outdone by you.

With that being said, he occasionally will give you tips on things like placement and critique the details you add to any pieces.

Still, you’re great at what you do and Vincent knows it. So, he would be happy to let you give him a tattoo. After seeing his twin knives I believe he would go for something snake or Greek mythology themed.

Thomas Hewitt

Thomas would want you to incorporate some of his scars into tattoos to make him feel better about them. Don’t worry about hurting him, this man has an insane pain tolerance and he won’t even flinch no matter how long the piece takes.

Also likes watching you come up with concepts. You always add so many little details to even the rough sketches. He really appreciates the time, effort, and attention you put towards what you do.

Even though his very traditional family is against tattoos, Thomas loves them. At night, he enjoys tracing the ones on your own skin. He probably has each and every one memorized down to the smallest detail at this point.

Brahms Heelshire

Our uppity little English boy would not want a tattoo. His parents were very high class and snobby people so they most likely raised Brahms to think tattoos were for hooligans. In all honesty, Brahms may not even know what a tattoo is…

Once he sees the ones that you have though, he’s less against them. His eyes hungrily take in the way the black ink decorates your delicate skin, and he’s hooked. Brahms absolutely loves to look at them.

Also loves to watch as you draw ideas for new pieces. You just look so cute when you’re focused and he’s mesmerized by your sketches.

Billy Loomis

This man + patchwork tattoos= the hottest thing in the history of ever

Would be more than happy to let you tattoo him…you are doing it for free right?

Billy thinks that tattoos are cool and they definitely add onto his intimidating look. If you compliment them it definitely gives his ego a boost as well. You won’t be able to save yourself from this narcissist after he catches you eyeing the ink on his skin.

Also thinks that the tattoos on your own skin are very sexy. Please show him each and every one of them. Yes even if you have to take your clothes off, that’s the best part y/n.

Stu Macher

Stu is more than happy to let you use him as a human canvas as long as you promise to make him look cool. He trusts you enough to not mess up after he’s seen some of the amazing work that you’ve done.

Doesn’t really care what kind of tattoo you put on him. He’ll give you all the creative liberty, occasionally throwing in a suggestion that he would think’d be cool.

Likes the tattoos you have on yourself as well. Stu would be the one to think giving yourself a tattoo is insanely cool! He would never be able to concentrate on little details if he was stabbing himself with a needle.

Would let you give him a very stupid, simple tattoo. Like the really dumb line art ones. Also 100% down for matching tattoos. Even better! Matching stupid tattoos!

Asa Emory

You cannot convince me this man doesn’t have a butterfly tattoo like the one harry styles has. He most certainly does, end of story.

He wouldn’t let you give him a tattoo in a very visible place. As a professor he has to keep up his neat and organized appearance. Coming off as professional is very important to Asa.

He’s fine with your tattoos though. He appreciates your attention to detail in each of the intricate tattoos on your skin. Asa even enjoys watching you draw your ideas on paper.

Jesse Cromeans

He loves tattoos and is more than down to let you give him one. Please do, he’ll even pay you if you want, he doesn’t care.

If you give yourself a skull tattoo Jesse takes it as a confession of your undying love for him. After all, you’ve pretty much marked yourself as his possession anyways.

Needless to say he also loves seeing the ink you have on your own skin. Tattoos are a big turn on for him.

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