#points for those of you in the audience who caught on

[eevees-hobbies]

Call me 'Kyojuro': Female Reader X Kyojuro Rengoku Smut

Author note:  I didn’t expect my first story to be so tame!  I wanted to make something dirty featuring my anime husband, but I think because this is my first, I held back. Raunchy, steamy, inappropriate shit will definitely be written in the future!

Content warning: smut, oral performed on female character, touching of breasts, mentions of bodily fluids (nothing extreme), you also are very forward in your relationship with Rengoku. I don’t really align with self-inserts that make you shy or soft-spoken (depends on the character)…it’s just not my thing!

Word count: 3.2k

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Rengoku was by no means a prude, but his Hashira lifestyle—which consisted of demon-slaying and training on constant repeat—left little time for relationships.

But it was no surprise that he quickly became infatuated with you when you were introduced as the newest Hashira. Yes, you were cute, no, you were beautiful, but that wasn’t the only characteristic that drew him in. It was also the way you were so committed to improving your skills. You were clearly ambitious – working tirelessly day and night to be a better you than the version you were yesterday. 

Rengoku recalled waking up early not long after you began your Hashira tenure, excited to start his usual training regime before the morning sun rose above the mountains and before the other Hashira started to stir. But when he approached the training grounds, he saw you practicing your movements with a sword in hand. 

You were mouthing commands to yourself, “breathe, follow through, expect a parry.” 

Rengoku watched you, quickly forgetting that he had his own training to begin. He was too engrossed by your commitment and passion to interrupt.

“I’m not one for an audience, ya know,” you shoot him a half-smile. You had noticed his presence but allowed the Flame Hashira to study you. As the newest Hashira, you hadn’t spoken up much. You simply observed during Hashira meetings, but you always found yourself interested in whatever Rengoku added to the conversation. Whenever he spoke up, his voice boomed over the others—and they listened. His points always centered on justice and protecting those who couldn’t defend themselves.

You were smitten on day one.

Rengoku’s body stiffened by your call out. He didn’t want you to feel like he was studying you, even if that was exactly what he was doing.

“Sorry! I was simply admiring your technique. And I must admit, I was surprised to find someone out here so early.”

You tilted your head to the side, the sweat that collected on your forehead from the exertion making its way down your cheek. “But you’re out here?”

Rengoku smiled softly as he acknowledged your quick rebuttal.

“Well, there’s more than enough space for us to both get our training in. Care to join me? I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in seeing what the Flame Hashira is capable of.” You palm the hilt of your blade nervously, hoping he would accept your offer not only because you were putting yourself out there but also because you wanted him to say yes.

Rengoku shoots you with a dazzling smile that makes your heart stutter.

“Let us get started then.”

In a matter of minutes, you and Kyojuro stared at each other from a respectful distance away, waiting for the other to make the first move—not wanting to be caught off guard, you strike first.

The Flame Hashira dodges you easily, but he doesn’t parry or clip you with his blunted weapon. In fact, many of his movements are a response to your attacks with no attempt at fighting back. You quickly grow frustrated. You had earned your place in the Hashira ranks. You slayed just as many demons as him and had plenty of the scars and trauma to prove it.

More of the same continues, with you stringing together elaborate attacks and him dodging.

You feel the vein in your temple begin to switch, your anger reaching a boiling point. “Demons go out of their way to target women, and you dare hold back against me?!” Your body goes slack as you turn your back towards him, sending a physical sign that you were concluding the training session.

Kyojuro flinches at your sudden emotional outburst, and because he hadn’t realized he was on the defensive with you—he certainly never held back with Shinobu or Mitsuri. For some reason, a reason deeper than he could comprehend at that moment, he didn’t want to hurt you.

“Wait!” Kyojuro takes a step towards you. “You are right to be upset with me, but I assure you that I mean no disrespect.”

You barely turn your head to look over your shoulder, “then fight me, Rengoku! Give me the chance to kick your ass, and if you pull that shit again, I’ll never speak to you again.”

Kyojuro contemplates your words and gives a curt nod. He gets into a battle pose and shoots a dazzling smile at you, “Very well! But please, call me Kyojuro.”

Your heart skips a beat. The sun still hasn’t begun to rise but his smile provides you all the light and warmth you could ever need. 

“S-sure thing, Kyojuro.”

--------------

It didn’t take long until you and Kyojuro had a consistent training ritual together. With the Flam Hashira’s approval of your presence and his bragging about your abilities, the other Hashira began to accept you, too. Your nights, previously spent in your room in alone, were now occupied around a large dinner table where you all shared your meals.

“So, I’m just going to come out and say it as it wouldn’t be very flashy of me to keep my mouth shut,” Uzui begins as he sets his cup down.

Your eyes narrow at him as he turns his hulking body to face you. You like Uzui, but everyone at the dinner table quiets and stares at you—you don’t appreciate the extra attention.

“You and Rengoku are a thing, right?” You shoot him a horrified look as he brings his two pointer fingers together and touches them tip-to-tip.

Sanemi chortles at the ridiculous gesture.

You look at Rengoku, hoping that he’ll interject, but he’s quiet, observing you as a shade of pink quickly rises from his neck to his cheeks. 

Sensing the awkwardness between you and Kyojuro, Shinobu interjects—to your relief.

“Leave them be. Mitsuri, tell us more about that salmon dish you spoke about earlier.”

With that, Mitsuri launches into an animated story about the new restaurant she had discovered. The other Hashira quickly lose interest in you and divert their attention to the Love Hashira. You look up at Kyojuro, fully prepared to see him also engrossed in Mitsuri’s story. Instead, he’s looking down at his half-eaten meal with a pensive look on his face.

Your heart aches as you watch him eventually rise, excuse himself from the table, and exit the dining room. 

Before you can talk yourself out of it, you follow. And before you know it, you’re pushing his bedroom door open and closing it quietly behind you.

Kyojuro’s bright eyes look at you in surprise. “Oh, did I leave something at the table?”

You chew your bottom lip in frustration, your heart pounds in your ears, and anxiety begins to make your fingers twitch. You were uncharacteristically nervous being in front of him in his room. But you couldn’t help it because, in a matter of months, your feelings for Kyojuro had blossomed into intense feelings of wanting more from your friendship.

Kyojuro, sensing your inability to speak, rises slowly and approaches you. He takes your hands into his and stares into your own bright eyes. 

“Please….say something. I know you were uncomfortable at dinner when Tengen spoke about our…friendship.” He paused slightly over the word friendship, letting it hang between you both as if it were heavy and wrong.

Fuck it

In a moment of bravery, you tilt your head up and press your lips against Kyojuro’s. You feel his muscles tense slightly at your unexpected advancement, but he doesn’t push you away, and for that, you are beyond thankful.

It isn’t long before he moves his hands up to cup your face, his lips, initially unmoving, now pressing firmly against your own. His longing for you is conveyed as his soft lips dance slowly with yours, his fingers gently stroking the soft skin of your cheek in small circles.

A moan escapes your lips. He’s such a fucking gentleman, you think to yourself. 

When his lips part, you take the opportunity to slide your tongue in his mouth. Your eagerness makes Kyojuro’s head swirl, and his pants tighten in the crotch area. The room fills with the lewd sounds of your wet tongues mingling together as both of your arousal grows. There’s no space between your bodies as you press against one another, his solid chest pressing against your soft breasts and crotches grinding into one another, desperately trying to feel the friction despite the clothes you’re wearing.

You eventually break away from the kiss, both of your lidded eyes staring hungrily at each other and chests heaving rapidly.

Kyojuro speaks first, “Wow. Have you always felt this way about me?” 

You roll your eyes in amusement at the innocent inflection in his tone. Your hands roam over his chest, “what do you think?”

Kyojuro beams at you, “then it is official—we are a couple!”

And true to his word, Kyojuro began to court you. You assumed little would change, and in a way, you were right. You and Kyojuro still trained with each other and accompanied each other on missions, but there were other instances where your relationship was different. If Rengoku went on a mission without you, he’d bring something back that caught his eye and reminded him of you. Soon, you had to purchase a small jewelry box to hold all the beautiful adornments he had gifted you. When it was time for meals—Kyojuro would offer you his lunch and swoon when you ate from his utensils.

“Eat up, my love! We must maintain the fire in your soul; the best way to do that is with a quality meal!”

You appreciated the sentiment—even if your meals were far more flavorful than his. Your heart warmed at how much and how deeply he cared for you.

--------------

During a rare training break, Kyojuro perched under a large tree and watched you spar with Sanemi. He felt uneasy as Sanemi fought you aggressively and without holding himself back. You had requested him to give his all as you did with every Hashira, but it still made Kyojuro nervous about the possibility of you getting hurt.

“When were you planning on thanking me?”

Kyojuro looked up to find his colleague Tengen gloating—an arrogant smirk gracing his features. Kyojuro gave him a quizzical look, unsure how to respond to a question he didn’t quite understand.

Tengen let an exasperated—and characteristically dramatic—sigh escape his lips. He crouched and rested a hand on Kyojuro’s shoulder, “Tell me, my fiery friend. Have you both consummated the relationship?”

Kyojuro’s body stiffened at the question. He felt it to be intrusive—even by Tengen’s standards.

Sensing his friend's tight-lipped demeanor and tense body language, Tengen lowered his voice. 

"Fair. I never took you as one to kiss and tell. But let me leave you with sage advice as someone with his fair share of experience with women.”

Kyojuro looked at his friend expectantly. He wanted to seem uninterested, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. You both had shared many nights cuddling and kissing had become increasingly more intense. It was becoming more challenging for Kyojuro to control himself as his hands explored your clothed body, his cock growing—almost painfully—in his pants. Some nights when you were away from each other, he’d imagine himself gingerly taking your clothes off, drinking in your body and curves like a man desperate for a taste. He’d imagine settling himself between your plush thighs and pushing his throbbing cock into your warm and welcoming mess of a cunt. On those lonely nights, Kyojuro would touch himself to the thought of you, his large hand sliding into his pants and stroking himself. His eyes would roll back as he tugged at himself with pitiful desperation at the idea of having you.

But while Kyojuro was satisfied with making love with you in the way that he knew how, he wasn’t sure if you’d be fully satisfied. So he looked at his friend, ready to accept his perverse advice.

--------------

Your muscles ached as you dragged yourself to Kyojuro’s room. You had almost fallen asleep during your bath—Sanemi’s training session with you was intense, and you had quite a bit of bruises to show for it. You were looking forward to attaching your body to Kyo’s and drifting off, but you soon forgot about any semblance of sleep as you entered the room.

Kyojuro was sifting his hands through his barely dry hair as he had also recently returned from his bath. His bare, muscular chest still had a few droplets of water that would more than likely evaporate soon. A towel loosely hung around his waist, and a noticeable bulge strained against the white fabric in a way that made you blush. Kyojuro looked over his shoulder at you and beamed. “My love, you are right on time. There is something I wanted to speak to you about!”

Your eyes stay glued to the bulge now pointing, no, beckoning aggressively at you. Please let there be a sudden gust—give me a peak.

Kyojuro continues, “I want you to be satisfied with me, so I received advice today on how to—.” You interrupt Kyojuro with a sharp glance, your own intense eyes meeting his. 

“Kyo, no offense, but we haven't even done anything yet. You don’t really need to worry about that right now, and honestly, I’m a bit scared to ask who you received advice from.”

Kyojuro approaches you, his previously tense shoulders now relaxed at the sound of your shorthand version of his name. He cups your cheeks and looks at you with soft eyes, “You’re right. I was getting ahead of myself.”

You smile sweetly up at him; one of your fingers finds the hem of his towel and pulls. Kyojuro gasps as he’s now fully unclothed in front of you. His cock bobs up and down at the lack of fabric holding it back. You purr and grasp him in your palm, feeling the taut muscle throb excitedly.

Kyojuro licks his lips as his half-lidded eyes look down at you—his breath noticeably harsher and quicker as you stroke him. “You sure?”

You snort—not very ladylike—but a response to an obvious question nonetheless. 

Kyojuro peels your clothes off your freshly cleaned body. He groans as his eyes take in all of your curves—they’re somehow even better than what he imagined. He raises a hand to palm your breast in his hand, his fingers gently pinching and tugging at your hardening nipple. Your mouths find each other again, with an intense hunger, each of your tongues battling for dominance.

Kyojuro pulls away, “I must taste you.”

You give him a quick nod, wondering what he means as you both were doing just that, weren’t you? But you quickly understand what he meant when he picks you up, his strong arms lifting you on his shoulders.

You let out a slight squeal as you feel the floor beneath your feet disappear, and your thighs become Kyo’s new earmuffs. He takes a long sniff of your cunt, breathing in your distinct smell, his mouth watering with excitement. He licks your sensitive folds, a shiver shooting up and down your spine, as the Flame Hashira suckles at your southern lips. 

“Mmm, she’s so pretty.” Slurp  “so wet” Slurp “so tasty.” Slurp

Soon, the room fills with the sounds of his suckling and your gasps. You want to roll your hips against his mouth desperately, but the position he has you in has you pressed against the wall, and any attempt to buck your hips may result in your ass hitting the floor.

Kyojuro slides his tongue past your folds, his mouth now making out with your clit. Your juices and Kyojuro’s saliva drip down his chin. He moans into your pussy, the taste of you making him stroke his pulsing cock with one hand. Your thighs begin to squeeze around his head as you feel warmth spread in your lower stomach. “Baby, I’m going to cum,” your eyes roll back as you release your sweetness down his throat. Kyojuro shudders at how good you taste and how good he makes you feel. 

“Put me down,” you order as you briefly regain your senses. Kyojuro obliges, eyeing you hungrily, his hand still stroking himself with his precum, lubricating the now sensitive skin.

“I want you to ruin me,” you say as you stumble to the middle of the room where the bed is. As you turn to face him, Kyojuro is already on you; he eagerly pushes you down and spreads your thighs. He grunts at the sign of your messy and hungry pussy, the sign of his worshipping tongue still evident on your moist folds. 

You gasp as he’s pushing the fat head of his cock inside of you. 

“Mmmm, she’s so hungry and eager, love.” Kyojuro pushes his full girth inside of you, letting out a groan and collapsing on top of you.

You moan and wrap your legs around his toned waist as he rolls his hips slowly into you. Kyojuro is sensual and careful with his movements despite you being able to tell that it’s taking quite a bit of self-control for him not to pound you mercilessly. As he dives into you, your senses are suddenly overwhelmed with the sound of your pussy squelching as his cock fills you up, the smell of your sex, and the sight of Kyojuro’s pleasure-filled expression gracing his features. He leans down and takes your nipple into his mouth, biting gently at your sensitive skin. It stings in a way that makes your pussy clench around his cock.

Kyojuro groans, “Please forgive me. You feel too good.”

You drag your hands through his hair as you buck your hips against his, trying to match his movements. You want every inch of him to touch every inch of you.

“Don’t be gentle, Kyo. I can handle it.”

Kyojuro shudders at your invitation to ruin you. His pace quickens, now hard, and loud slapping sounds fill every corner of the room, his heavy and full balls smacking against your ass. You desperately want to open up and close yourself all at once—everything you’re feeling intense and overstimulating. 

Kyojuro is being vocal with his approval of you and how you’re taking him in, “O-oh my god, you’re pussy feels like it was m-made for me…!” He grips your thighs with his strong hands, the tips of his fingers turning white as he digs his nails into your flesh. In a quick movement, he pushes your legs further back until he’s squatting on top of you, your thighs pressed against his as he pounds his cock into your needy cunt.

You—no longer caring about how loud you are—let out deep guttural moans. You desperately reach for something to grab, and your hands find Kyojuro’s hair. You grip his thick mane at his scalp and pull. You’re not sure if the position is impeding your breathing or if it’s your moans not allowing you time to suck in adequate air; regardless, you feel as though you might pass out. 

“You take my dick so well,” Kyojuro compliments as his hand finds your clit and rubs it in circular motions with his thumb.

Drool drips out of the corners of your mouth as Kyojuro’s thrusts only get harder and more animalistic.

Kyojuro grunts, feeling himself getting close as the intense fire in his abdomen burns more and more, “stick out your tongue, my flame!”

Your tongue lolls out your mouth for him, and your eyes roll back as he sucks your tongue into his mouth; you moan in adoration as he sucks and bites on your tongue, wanting to taste every bit of you. 

Your pussy clenches and grasps at his cock as you release against him. The death grip of your cunt begging, pleading, and welcoming every drop of inevitable seed that he can give you.

Kyojuro groans loudly as he erupts, shooting hot seed inside of you, “A-ah, here it comes, ohhhhh.”

Kyojuro rests his forehead against your shoulder, the intense wave of your and his pleasure rolling through you both. You plant a kiss against his lips.

“Was that…good?” He mumbles against you.

“So good,” you whisper as you grip him tightly. You can feel his heart beating quickly against your chest. As his love oozes out of you and onto your sheets, you both drift off, gripping one another.

#rengoku kyojuro smut #demon slayer #rengoku kyojuro #kimetsu no yaiba #kyojuro x reader

[creatediana]

An untitled free verse poem written 3/10/2015, with metaphors I would one month later shape into this poem

#i was so down bad for that boy it's unbelievable #do you guys remember the 'excel aesthetic' trend from five seconds in 2015? pepperidge farms remembers #creatediana is pepperidge farms. that's the design choice i went for for the poem i did post at the time hahahahaha #2015 #hs sophomore #free verse #teenage poetry #poem #love poetry #yeah my aroace ass does not get like that anymore #juvenalia #metaphor #the little rainbow streaks in the background of this poem yes are a subtle reference to my rainbow excel aesthetic from 2015 #points for those of you in the audience who caught on #someone has to care about creatediana history trivia around here. that someone is me!

[abyssruler]

furina’s guide on the art of matchmaking

neuvillette x gn!reader

it’s no secret that furina is constantly bored of the mundanity that comes with court, but with the recent discovery of neuvillette’s crush on you, things have just gotten a lot more interesting. if only you and neuvillette would just get together, but alas, it comes down to the great hydro archon to bring justice to neuvillette’s sad, pathetic love life.

furina pov, comedy, furina being dramatic as hell

Furina knows the best way to get under Neuvillette’s skin is through you. The Iudex may seem impassive from the outside, but she knows where to look for his tells, particularly when he’s annoyed (she has, after all, been the recipient to silently judging stares, usually those of a disappointed or even irritated nature).

And she’s seen the way Neuvillette looks at you—his face softening, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips, and most damningly of all, the slightest hint of a blush whenever you stare into his eyes a little too long to be considered proper.

It’s all so entertaining to watch, if a bit miffing to endure seeing how utterly slow the two of you are. If Furina had been in Neuvillette’s shoes, she would have long since enacted a performance grander than anything Fontaine has ever seen and asked you out on a date. Not just any date though, no, she would have to pull an all-nighter to come up with the best date there is. One does not simply go on a date with the God of Justice and have it be mediocre.

But all that aside, with how boring Neuvillette is with his stricter than strict rules and views on how one must go about their day, it falls upon her to make sure he doesn’t die as a decrepit old bachelor who’s never felt the touch of another person intimately. (Not that Furina had any say on the topic of intimacy, seeing as she’s never had any experience in the romantic aspects of life, but experience means nothing compared to the wisdom of the God of Justice!)

So, after many nights spent huddled beneath her blankets, scribbling on her notebook and brainstorming the best way to get a rise out of Neuvillette, she happened upon a breakthrough. An idea so great it would not only be something worthy of the Steambird’s headlines, but also be something the people of Fonatine would speak of for years to come.

Yes, it all comes down to this very moment, standing over the highest place in the opera with hundreds of eyes watching her as she points an accusing finger at your figure standing on the very stage she’s set up.

Neuvillette watches it all with his eyes narrowed at her, hands clasped tightly around his cane, and Furina would have loved to relish in that reaction, but alas, she must continue with her script.

With a haughty smile, she meets your eyes as she yells out loud to her captivated audience.

“I charge you, (Y/N), with the crime of theft!”

The people below gasp in shock at the sudden accusation. Only natural, of course. You, an esteemed person of reputable background who most people view as a kind person, being charged with theft? How scandalous!

But that’s not all!

“You stand accused of thievery,” Furina pauses for a dramatic effect, feeling the spectators hold their breaths as they await her final verdict.

She then looks up at Neuvillette, and it takes all she has in her not to burst in hysterics at the comically pinched face he’s sporting. She moves her finger from you to Neuvillette, practically preening in place as the assembled crowd below let out varying expressions of shock.

And with a smug smile, she deals the final blow.

“For stealing the Chief Justice of Fontaine’s heart!”

One, two, three—

Screams erupt from below. Women squealing in delight while the men cheer at the sudden twist from accusation to romance.

Furina basks in the attention as the people sing praises of her.

“Of course, how could not I have seen it before?”

“Lady Furina is so sharp to have caught on!”

“Monsieur Neuvillette and (Y/N) do make a good pair, don’t they?”

“How ingenious! As expected of our Lady Furina!”

But then, Neuvillette stands, a stern look on his face as he taps his cane on the ground hard enough to rattle her eardrums.

“Order!”

His face could have been made from stone with how hard he’s looking at her. If looks could kill, she’d be dead on the spot. Yikes! Perhaps it’s time to make a swift escape…

“Lady Furina, might I remind you that charges and accusations are not to be made lightly within the court. To abuse your position in order to make a ridiculous statement. I…”

With every word that leaves his mouth, Furina slowly begins to feel that perhaps she’d been too hasty in thinking that all would turn out well. And oh, maybe she should have thought up of scenarios and what-to-dos after she finished performing her grand plan, but in her defense, she’d been too excited at the prospect of finally pushing you two together that it completely slipped her mind!

Is it too late to claim it was all an elaborate performance not meant to be taken seriously?

Neuvillette stares thunderously up at her.

She’ll take that as a no, then.

Just when all hope seemed to have been lost, a savior comes in the form of you raising your hand.

Neuvillette immediately stops speaking in favor of addressing you.

“Would the accused like to defend their innocence?”

You take a deep breath, gaze briefly flitting to Furina’s before meeting Neuvillette’s. And even without much prompt, from that single glance alone, she knew she was about to witness something extremely entertaining.

“I… I would like to press charges as well,” you say evenly, and for a second, Furina’s heart drops as she thinks you’re about to charge her for false accusations and perhaps even slander, (the first time in history that anyone has charged the God of Justice for a crime!) but then, you continue—

“I would like to press charges against you, Monsieur Neuvillette, for stealing my heart too.”

Your statement is followed by a stunned silence that only lasts for a brief moment, before it’s overcome by exclamations and whoops at the sudden turn of events.

Furina falls back on her seat and howls with laughter as she watches Neuvillette be struck speechless, red creeping up his cheeks as your statement echoes across the cavernous hall. She reminds herself to gift you something extravagant for saving her at the very last moment.

Ah, what a delightful way to end the show.

She watches you direct a besotted smile towards Neuvillette. Another day, another poor sod saved from the horrors of a nonexistent love life.

Furina mentally pats herself on the back for a job well done.

#furina: another day another slay #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #neuvillette x reader #genshin neuvillette x reader #gn reader #furina #focalors

[izzys-bluebell-woods]

I feel like people have been quick to dismiss Mimzy's importance in Ep. 5

I've been seeing a lot of Mimzy hate, mainly on Reddit, where people are genuinely REALLY hating on Mimzy because she was annoying, interrupted Hell's Greatest Dad, and served no purpose in the episode.

Whilst the previous two points are down to personal taste, I feel like considering Mimzy's role in this episode nonexistent, or that she just exists for fanservice here, is greatly overlooking what this episode is about. There are two focuses to the episode, one of course being Lucifer and his relationship with Charlie, but it's also the deepest look into Alastor's actual character that we've gotten so far, I'd say significantly more than the finale. We see two sides to Alastor that both Mimzy and Luficier bring out, and I wanted to kind of highlight my thoughts and what the episode was trying to show us about Alastor that we wouldn't have gotten if Mimzy wasn't there.

Alastor's instant hostility towards Lucifer makes it incredibly clear that Alastor can't keep his cool all the time - his two biggest flaws is that he is power-hungry and incredibly petty. From what we know - and what is likely to be true considering Lucifer is shown to have no idea who he is - Alastor has never met Lucifer before this. If the theories that he belongs to Eve/Lilith in some way are true, there is reasonable ground to say that this immediate hatred towards him could be justified, maybe it was in some way Lucifer's fault that he's caught in this deal and this is his way of taking it out on him or trying to uphold his end of that deal.

But look how much his mask slips, look how annoyed and angry he is. If this was a font that he was doing to somehow make Lucifer intentionally mad at him for some sort of personal gain, he wouldn't have looked so murderous. Him just leaning down and hissing 'fuck you' right in his face was so shocking for the audience purely because no one has done that to him before, no one has pushed him so much.

This indicates that Alastor isn't just playing some sort of game, Lucifer genuinely got under his skin, because he is so obviously more powerful than Alastor and he HATES that. He hates being reminded that he's not the biggest meanest in Hell - this was explored more in his showdown in Adam, but at the time of this episode's release, this is the most flawed and 'human' Alastor has ever felt. He's dropped from this force of mysterious evil, to randomly picking a fight with the Devil himself because he was so catty about being shown up.

As further reinforced with him snapping at Husk when he also reminded him he wasn't as all-powerful as he sees himself to be, Alastor will lash out at those who make him feel like he isn't the one in control and pulling the strings of everything - we finally see a hint of motivation for him sticking around at the hotel at all.

But then there's Mimzy.

We immediately go from seeing Alastor at his worst, at his most aggravated and petty, to seeing him literally melt into a hug. The demon who, according to Viv herself, hates physical contact so much that he would distort and melt himself to get away from it. We so quickly go from being shocked that Alastor is behaving so spitefully to now having to take in Alastor being ecstatic to see someone who he considers to be a friend.

Having this be so directly after his massive tiff with Lucifer is so important. If this wasn't included in this episode, our only insight into the person Alastor actually is would be that he's an asshole. Picking fights with people just because he wants to stay on top, that its the thing he cares about the most. But Mimzy does come along, and we see that it isn't true at all - and its confusing, and that is so perfect.

You think you're getting somewhere with the person Alastor is, but you see that, hold on, there is actually a semblance of heart in there, here he is actually caring about someone. But what is so important about this being a relationship he shares with Mimzy, and something that couldn't at all be explored with, say, Rosie, is the kind of person Mimzy is.

Mimzy double crossed Alastor. And, according to Husk, this is a somewhat regular occurace. We can see that Alastor is annoyed at her, and I think most of us were prepared for him to do something to her like he was doing to those loan sharks a few seconds before this confrontation.

But...he doesn't. Not at all, he doesn't even snap at her. Perhaps scold her a bit, but other than that, he is so nice to her and just politely tells her to leave and that is that. He does more shit to Lucifer, who literally hasn't done nothing but exist in his presence, than someone who just trampled all over his ego by using him, both as a shield and, well, somewhat emotionally.

In this episode, Alastor is shown to lash out. Easily. All you have to do is be more powerful than Alastor, and he won't like you - that's the impression you'd get from his scenes with Lucifer alone. But we have his scenes with Mimzy as well, and you're being told, hold on, no, that isn't quite correct, because he's not acting the same here. What has Alastor got to gain from letting Mimzy get off of this with no repercussions? Mimzy, someone who has probably sold her soul to someone else and has absolutely no power at all.

Nothing. He does it because Alastor cares about her.

I don't think I would have considered his friendship with Rosie to be genuine at all if it wasn't for his friendship with Mimzy. Rosie is so powerful, and Alastor has so much to gain from being in close cahoots with her, but it's so clear that he doesn't care about that, but he sees her as an equal. If all we saw from Alastor in that episode was him lusting for power, it would render the way we see all his relationships with people to be of some gain to him somehow. ESPECIALLY Rosie and other Overlords like Zestial.

This makes Alastor and Mimzy's relationship arguably one of the most interesting in the show. Someone who is so powerful and unpredictable, who hardly cares for anyone other than himself, caring about this absolute gremlin of a woman. He likes Mimzy purely because she's fun to be around, a sentiment you might expect from Alastor, with his stated reasoning for joining the hotel being to laugh at people, but he's in no way laughing at Mimzy. You can tell that he doesn't intimidate her at all, because she has the absolute balls to pull off the loan shark thing with him.

Mimzy and Lucifer's interactions with Alastor has made him to be one, if not THE most interesting character in the show. Because you're exploring two contradictory sides of the same coin at once. One where he gets so worked up and angry over not having the power he sees himself as having, and one where he's visibly hurt that his long time friend used him. In one instance you have him pulling out all the stops to be as hostile as he could be to Lucifer without actually hurting him (even though he clearly wants to), and another where he has full range to hurt Mimzy as much as he wants to, but he doesn't.

Alastor cares about people. But also disregards people like playing cards. He is such a mixed bag, so far from being one note, and you wouldn't have gotten that insight without Mimzy.

#alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #mimzy #hazbin hotel mimzy #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel analysis #also very telling that reddit shits so strongly on one of the only plus size women in the show over her acting like a bitch in hell #you know #like so many other characters in the show

[physalian]

What No One Tells You About Writing Fantasy

Every author has their preferred genres. I love fantasy and sci-fi, but began with historical fiction. I hated all the research that historical fiction demands and thought, if I build my own world, no research required.

Boy, was I wrong.

So to anyone dipping their toe into fantasy/sci-fi, here’s seven things I wish I knew about the genres before I committed to writing for them.

1. You still have to research. Everything.

If you want any of your fantasy battle sequences, or your space ships, or your droids and robots, or your fictional government and fictional politics to read at all believable.

In sci-fi, you research astronomy, robotics, politics, political science, history, engineering, anthropology. In fantasy, you have to research historical battle tactics, geography, real-world mythology, folklore, and fairytales, and much of it overlaps with science fiction.

I say you *have to* assuming you want your work to be original and unique and stand out from the crowd. Fanfic writers put in the research for a 30k word smut fic, you can and will have to research for your original work.

2. Naming everything gets exhausting

I hate coming up with new names, especially when I write worlds and places divorced from Earthly customs and can’t rely on Earthly naming conventions. You have to name all your characters, all your towns, villages, cities, realms, kingdoms, planets, galaxies, star systems.

You have to name your rebel faction, your imperial government, significant battles. Your spaceships, your fantasy companies and organizations, your magic system, made-up MacGuffins, androids, computer programs. The list goes on and on and on.

And you have to do it all without it sounding and reading ridiculous and unpronounceable, or racist. Your fantasy realms have to have believable naming patterns. It. Gets. Exhausting.

3. It will never read like you’re watching a movie

Do you know how fast movies can cut between scenes? Movies can balance five plotlines at once all converging with rapid edits, without losing their audience. Sometimes single lines of dialogue, or single wordless shots are all a scene gets before it cuts. If you try to replicate that by head-hopping around, you will make a mess.

It’s perfectly fine to write like you’re watching a movie, but you can’t rely on visual tricks to get your point across when all you have is text on a page – like slow mo, lens flares, epically lit cinematic shots, or the aforementioned rapid edits.

It doesn’t have to, nor should it, look like a movie. Books existed long before film, so don’t let yourself get caught up in how ~cinematic~ it may or may not look.

4. Your space opera will be compared to Star Wars and Star Trek

And your fairy epic will be compared to Tinkerbell, your vampires to Twilight, your zombies to The Walking Dead, Shaun of the Dead, World War Z. Your wizards and witches and any whisper of a fantasy school for fantasy children will be compared to Harry Potter. Your high fantasy adventure will be compared to Lord of the Rings.

You can’t avoid it, but you can avoid doing it to yourself. When people ask about your book, let them say “oh, you mean like Star Wars” to which you then can say, kind of, except XYZ happens in my book. These IPs will never fade from the public consciousness, not while you exist to read this post, at least, but Harry Potter isn’t the only urban fantasy out there. Lord of the Rings isn’t the only high fantasy. Star Wars isn’t the only space opera.

Yours will be on the shelves right next to them, soon enough, and who knows? You might dethrone them.

5. Your world-building is an iceberg, and your book is the tip

I don’t pay for any of those programs that help you organize your book and mythos. I write exclusively on Apple Notes, MS Word, and Google Suite (and all are free to me). I have folders on Apple Notes with more words inside them than the books they’re written for.

If you try to cram an entire college textbook’s worth of content into your novel, you will have left zero room for actual story. The same goes for all the research you did, all the hours slaving away for just a few details and strings of dialogue.

There’s a balance, no matter how dense your story is. If you really want to include all those extra details, slap some appendices at the end. Commission some maps.

6. The gatekeeping for fantasy and sci-fi is still very real

Pen names and pseudonyms exist for a reason. A female author writing fantasy that isn’t just a backdrop for romance? You have a harder battle ahead of you than your male counterparts, at least in the US. And even then, your female protagonist will be scrutinized and torn apart.

She’ll either be too girly or not girly enough, too sexy, or not sexy enough. She’ll be called a Mary Sue, a radical feminist mouthpiece, some woke propaganda. Every action she takes will be criticized as unrealistic and if she has fans who are girls, they will be mocked, too.

If you have queer characters, characters of color, they won’t be good enough, they won’t please everyone, and someone will still call you a bigot. A lot of someones will still call you a bigot.

Do your due diligence and hire your army of sensitivity readers and listen to them, but you cannot please everyone, so might as well write to please yourself. You’re the one who will have to read it a thousand times until it’s published.

7. Your “original” idea has been done before, and that’s okay

Stories have been told since before language evolved. The sum of the parts of your novel may be original, but even then, it’s colored by the media you’ve consumed. And that’s okay!

How many Cinderella stories are there? How many high fantasies? How many books about werewolves and witches and vampires? Gods and goddesses and celestial beings? Fairies and dragons and trolls? Aliens, robots, alien robots? Romeo and Juliette? Superheroes and mutants?

Zombies may be the avenue through which you tell your story, but it’s not *just* about zombies, is it? It’s about the characters who battle them, the endurance of the human spirit, or the end of an era, the death of a nation. So don’t get discouraged, everyone before you and everyone after will have written someone on the backs of what came before and it still feels new.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #fantasy #scifi #writeblr #what no one tells you about writing

[my-castles-crumbling]

Platonic Kissing (Jegulus's Version)

I got a request for a Jegulus version of this microfic so here you go!

She'd threatened to do it, but he hadn't believed her. He really should have known better than to underestimate Pandora Rosier. Because now, in the middle of a party, he was having a full-blown panic attack.

"Kiss Reggie," she'd dared James Potter, eyes wide and innocent.

And Regulus wanted to kill her.

Because now, Sirius was gagging and Barty and Evan were cat-calling, and James was shrugging like it was no-big-fucking-deal, and Regulus was seeing his entire life flash behind his eyes.

"They're friends! Friends kiss on dares!" Pandora threw at the still-gagging Sirius, rolling her eyes and winking at Regulus, but Regulus was far too distracted to care about his brother's antics.

Because how was he supposed to pretend he hated Potter while he was kissing him?

And Potter was so infuriatingly cool about it. He moved in front of Regulus slowly, like he did this every day, meanwhile Regulus felt like he was going to burst.

You can do this, he thought, trying to calm himself. Friends can kiss. This will be...friend-kissing. Nothing more.

So when James leaned forward and Regulus's breath caught in his throat, he tried desperately to stay collected. To not react at all when their lips touched. Even though the slight pressure of those soft, smooth, kissable lips on his was sending sparks through his brain and down his spine. Even though he wanted to groan with the contact.

He refused to move. Friends didn't react when they kissed, after all. They...just kissed and were done. Right?

So why was James still there? Why was he pulling Regulus closer? Why was he- he was- oh, fuck.

He was sure it was James who opened his mouth first, and yet he followed suit almost instantly, allowing their tongues to swirl together.

He wants to put on a show, Regulus thought to himself. Friends...friends can joke like this.

Meanwhile, his entire chest hurt with the effort of not snaking his arms around James's neck. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides and he was very proud of himself for staying so composed, if he did say so himself.

But then James's fingers tugged just slightly at Regulus's hair, fingers laced in dark locks, and his resolve cracked so quickly and completely it was like a bomb went off.

His arms found themselves around James's neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer, lips moving into hot, open-mouthed kisses that were distinctly not friendly and not appropriate for an audience. And James was half in his lap at this point, his other hand coming to rest at Regulus's waist, squeezing in a way that made his stomach flip-flip.

It was Sirius's throat-clearing that made them jump apart, of course. And Regulus's resolve reappeared quickly, his head reeling. Did James often kiss people like that? Did he kiss his friends like that? Did- oh, Merlin- did he kiss Sirius like that?

But as he looked up at James, who was pink-cheeked and grinning, he thought that maybe James didn't kiss his friends like that.

"S'my turn," James murmured, making Regulus raise his eyebrows in confusion. "Reg...I dare you to go on a date with me."

He rolled his eyes and shoved James playfully, but he couldn't hide his smile, no matter how hard he tried.

#marauders #harry potter #marauders era #fanfic #marauders fandom #harry potter marauders #the marauders #the marauders fandom #the marauders era #james #james fleamont potter #james potter #james x regulus #james potter/regulus black #james potter x regulus black #james and regulus #regulus arcturus black #regulus black #james loves regulus #regulus black loves james potter #regulus being regulus #jegulus microfic #jegulus fanfiction #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker

[jinnie-ret]

9th member reader passing out on stage during tour because theyve been pushing themselves hard for the tour. forgetting to eat sometimes, pushing themselves in the gym, pushing themselves during practice (not in a punishing themselves way just a getting caught up in the work and not realising how harsh theyre being on themselves way). it all just gets too much during a concert and they just drop, maybe one of the boys catch her before she can hit the floor too hard. the boys beating themselves up a bit for not noticing how hard they were pushing themselves.

don't push yourself

stray kids x ninth member!reader (platonic)

genre: angst, fluff

content warnings: reader not taking care of herself

word count: 2.1k

summary: you thought you were doing the right thing for yourself, but it was only a matter of time before your habits became unhealthy, and the boys didn't even notice until it was too late.

Here it is! I hope you enjoy it! :))

Asks are currently shut!

But let me know if you would like to be added to my taglist and reblog if you enjoyed! <3

MAIN MASTERLIST

With an early rise, there was bound to be a fall at some point.

Whether that was into your bed, when you finally returned back to the dorms from a late night practice; on the sofa of Chan's studio; or to the stage floor of the concert you were rehearsing for.

But we'll get to that later.

The boys hadn't noticed at the start what you had been doing to yourself. You were being more strict with your diet, going to the gym every morning with Changbin, and staying longer at practice. They just saw it as you being their fellow determined member who was trying to improve your health.

And yes, you were seeing improvements, quickly, in fact. But it wasn't healthy. Not that you knew that.

"You should have seen her! She lifted 70kg today!" Changbin boasted with pride, arm wrapped around your shoulders as you both returned from the gym.

Han and Hyunjin had been eating breakfast in the kitchen upon your arrival, so it was the perfect audience for Changbin to show you off to. Chan was probably already at the studio.

"70kg?! I think you can lift more than me now... I can't even lift a spoon," Han laughs.

"Our Han is so squishy," Hyunjin said in an over the top voice and started poking his stomach and arms.

"Yah! Yah!" Han laughed loudly as he shoved Hyunjin away, all four of you laughing.

"Come on, Y/Nnie, show us those muscles of yours," Hyunjin made grabby hands towards your arms, so in return you tensed.

"Woah, your muscles are so big now!" Han's eyes widened.

"Yes I'm secretly training to beat you all up," you did your best to tiredly joke.

"Not much of a secret, plus, you could never beat me," Changbin smirked, ruffling your hair as he went to take a shower.

"Wanna test that theory?" you called after him, pretending to march along the same path he took to his room.

It was easier then, to joke around and act like everything was normal, because you were yet to spiral.

"Y/Nnie? What are you doing here?" Jeongin questioned confused as you walked into the apartment he shared with Seungmin, Felix and Lee Know. You must have not only grabbed the wrong key, but walked back from JYP to the wrong apartment.

"Huh? Innie? Oh, I must have gone to the wrong place," you mumble tiredly, putting your bag down nonetheless.

"You look exhausted... it's 1am! What are you doing up?" Jeongin stood up to analyse your tired figure, one that had also changed from you becoming stricter in yourself.

"I just came back from practising... what are you still doing up?" you looked up at the maknae, poking his cheek lazily.

"From practice? At this time? I was just watching some show on TV," he shrugged, tugging you to sit down next to him.

"What's going on?" a sleepy Felix rubbed his eyes as he entered the lounge, jumping back slightly when he noticed you were there.

"I'm not that scary looking am I, Lixie?" you managed to tease, your head rested against Jeongin's shoulder.

"No! No... I was just shocked to see you're here, why aren't you at the other apartment, did you have an argument?" Felix joined you on the sofa, stealing some of the blanket you and Jeongin had.

"She's so tired she came back to the wrong place," Jeongin laughed, rubbing your head.

"Wah! Y/N you're the first to do that out of us all!" Felix giggled.

"Shouldn't have given me a spare key," you yawned as you stretched your arms, wincing when you did so.

"I'm glad we did by the looks of it, did you push yourself?" Felix brushed some hair out of your face after seeing your pained expression.

"No, no, it's nothing like that..." you trailed off.

"Then what is it?" Jeongin began, "if you didn't push yourself then what is it? Did you not get any sleep last night?"

"I guess so..." you complied with his theories in aid of not having to reveal what you had really been doing.

Surely this wasn't a bad thing though? The concern in their voices was beginning to make you feel differently but you know you were only doing this to better yourself.

"Ah you need to be more careful," Felix tsked, pulling the blanket tighter around you.

"You can't burrito me to death," you tried to fight against the Aussie that was currently swaddling you.

"Oh, but I can."

Another night, you were back at your apartment (the right one) and were currently cooking yourself dinner as everyone else had already eaten. With a pyjama vest and shorts on, it was weird to think how you hadn't noticed the bruises that painted your muscles.

"Ah you're awake now, wait, what happened?" Chan entered the kitchen, happy to see you were awake but alarmed at the sight of your arms.

"Huh? What do you mean?" you questioned as you chopped some veggies.

"Your arms, they've got bruises, lots of them, what happened? Did someone do this to you?" Chan interrogated you all of a sudden.

"What?! No!" you glanced down at your arms and sighed, no wonder they ached so much. "I've just been working out a lot more."

"This looks like a hell of a lot more, you sure you're taking it easy? I mean, I know you go to the gym with Changbin now but that doesn't mean you have to try and match him," Chan sighed, unable to take his eyes off of the purple marks on you.

"Hey, my eyes are up here," you laughed, nudging Chan.

"Y/N..." he sighed, not in the mood for joking around when he could see that you were hurt.

"Chan, it's fine. My body just probably isn't used to it yet, but look, I'm sticking to a good plan, I've got veggies and chicken breast in so I'm getting in my gains like a proper gym bro," you laugh.

"Well, I'm glad to see you're at least eating, just, take it easy, yeah?" he smiled then, patting your back as he returned to presumably his room.

You thought your mind was getting stronger, but your body was getting weaker. Practising had taken priority over your eating.

"Let's go one more time," Lee Know instructed everyone, watching the moves of his members with sharp eyes at the mirror as he danced at the front.

And to your disdain, you stumbled.

"Shit," you put a hand to your forehead, feeling disappointed in yourself.

"Our Y/Nnie can't keep on her own two feet," Lee Know teased, but upon seeing that your expression didn't change at his light-hearted joke, he came over to you.

"Hey, it's ok, I was just kidding," he tried to bend slightly to look into your eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I just, wanna get it right, you know?" you sighed.

"I've seen you perform this dance amazingly multiple times, don't be so harsh on yourself," he nodded at you before returning to the front of the mirror.

But how could you not be harsh on yourself when everything needed to be perfect?

"Woah, I'm impressed, I've never seen you got a note like that!" Seungmin applauded you on one of your duo vlives.

Fans flooded the comments spamming hearts and mentioning how impressed they also were at you, being a rapper of the group, hitting high notes.

"I've been practising," you waved him off, hiding your face shyly

"Yeah, with who? Ailee sunbaenim?!" he tried to peek at your hoodie covered face.

"Woah you can't compare me to Ailee sunbaenim!" you laughed at him.

You continued to sing together, yet at the end you were getting breathless. And so, after the vlive ended, Seungmin couldn't help but bring it up.

"You sounded pretty breathless at the end..."

"I know, I know, I need to do better," you sighed.

"No it's not that! I'm just a bit worried about you..." he brushed off your doubts.

"Why? I'm fine," you shrugged him off.

"Ok, whatever you say, just take care of yourself, yeah?" he allowed you to brush away his doubts the same way he did to yours, as you both left the company.

And so this cycle of constantly trying to go past the boundaries of your limits continued. All the way into your second concert of your Maniac World Tour.

It had all been going so well. Everyone was on an adrenaline rush and loving the crowd's support. Apart from you. Your body was slowly but surely bound to shut down eventually, you just wished it didn't happen with your stays so happy, because you knew as soon as you hit the floor, you would have taken that away.

"Y/Nnie!!!" screamed the fans as your body slumped and didn't get back up.

The members instantly turned to where you had been performing. It hadn't even been a high energy choreo, because this time, you were simply moving around the stage to interact more with the fans.

You would have scolded yourself if you had a single coherent thought in your exhausted state.

"Somebody help!" Chan worriedly waved over some staff from backstage as they lifted you off.

"Please excuse us stays, everything will be ok, we will be back with you in a moment," Lee Know hurriedly tried to calm the crowd of tearful stays before rushing after his fellow members who surrounded you.

"Come on, Y/N, wake up," Hyunjin patted your face, trying to help you come back to reality.

"Hmmm," you groaned, a pounding feeling in your head.

"Oh thank God!" Han sighed in relief, hand on his quickly beating heart.

"What happened?" you mumbled tiredly as you were sat up by two staff members who fanned you and handed you some water with a straw to sip from.

"You just collapsed out there!" Felix said with wide eyes.

"Oh," you simply said, not wanting to confront what could have happened to you.

"Oh? Just, oh? Y/N, what happened out there?" Chan sternly said from next to you, squeezing your hand to offer reassurance despite his strict demeanor.

"I don't know... One second I was talking to the fans and the next..."

"You... you haven't been taking care of yourself have you?" Hyunjin burst out with his question, unable to hold back his words no longer.

"I have, I've been going to the gym, I've been practising hard-" you began, before you were cut off.

"How didn't I realise?" Changbin pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Realise what, hyung?" Seungmin asked curiously.

"Y/N, please tell me you've been eating and not living off of those energy drinks I see you have every morning," Changbin crouched down in front of you, begging that he was wrong in thinking that.

"Yeah, I ate dinner, umm, it was when, ummm," you stumbled on your words, unable to remember the last time you ate a proper meal.

And that is when you felt like you failed. You had been doing so well but you couldn't even stick to your plan.

"You can't even remember when you last ate?" Lee Know looked around at the concerned gazes of his other members.

"I'm sorry I don't know why, I... I just wanted to do better," you bit your lip, trying to hold back your tears.

"There are so many better ways to go about it Y/Nnie," Jeongin sighed, rubbing your knee soothingly.

"I'm sorry we didn't notice," Felix said regretfully.

"No, no, please don't apologise, this is on me," you mentally kicked yourself.

"How long, Y/N?" Chan insisted on your response.

"Maybe... 2 months?" you wondered out loud.

They all gasped and shared different responses at your answer.

"Y/Nnie that's not good for you, no wonder you were seeming more tired..." Hyunjin looked away.

"I'm sorry, I really am, I never wanted to worry you all," you apologised sadly, and that is when some stray tears fell delicately down your cheeks.

"We will always worry, you're part of our team," Seungmin bluntly said, yet you could still see the compassion behind his eyes.

"Don't push yourself so hard next time, yeah? Let us know next time and we can help you figure out a way to do this more healthily, just talk to us next time, yeah?" Chan wiped your tears away as Changbin wrapped you in a hug you didn't realise you needed so badly.

"I promise," you whispered, yet everyone heard it amongst the sounds of the crowd, and if they didn't, they still felt the words hanging in the air, a vow that next time, you would take care of yourself, and that they'd always be there to take care of you too.

tagged: @skz-streamer @han-jiquokka @hannahhbahng @backintomykpopphaseagain @sakufilms @kiraisastay

#skz #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids #skz fluff #skz angst #straykids imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #skz fic #skz ninth #skz ninth member imagines #skz ninth imagines #skz ninth member #stray kids ninth #stray kids ninth member #stray kids 9th member #skz 9th member

[sweetblinginrose]

𝖍𝖔𝖘𝖕𝖎𝖙𝖆𝖑 ,

(OS Eddie Munson x reader)

summary: You catch Eddie red-handed.

word count: 3k +

warnings: +18, friends to lovers, caught jerking off, handjob, oral (m receives), cum in mouth, all this in a hospital.

a/n: hi! so, im dropping this one-shot without pronouns so everyone can vibe with it. just a random idea i had, nothing too crazy

masterlist

━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━ ✧♡✧ ━━

Eddie was lying on the hospital stretcher, his face reflecting a mixture of satisfaction, annoyance and relief. "Mmhmm, fuck, yeah, right there..." he sighed, while a slight tremor ran through his closed eyelids. His toes curved involuntarily, reacting to the feeling he had longed for. His long hair, usually tied in a bun given to the summer heat, had come loose and now it fell disorderly on his forehead, dark strands stuck to his skin by sweat.

There you were, his unconditional, only person he trusted to carry out this delicate mission. With the precision of a surgeon, you had inserted one of his forks into the narrow opening of the plaster that imprisoned his hand. You moved the fork carefully, gently scratching the palm that had been for weeks without feeling the slightest touch. Eddie twisted slightly every time the fork touched a new point on his palm, sending a wave of relief through his immobilized arm. "There, there... That's it!" He exclaimed whimpering with satisfaction more deeply, every time you manage to calm that unattainable itching that tormented him so much. The room was silent, except for Eddie's occasional moans of comfort and the soft rubbing of metal against plaster. It was an intimate moment, not because of their nature, but because of the trust and connection they shared. Finally, after several minutes that seemed eternal to Eddie, he sighed deeply, a sign that you had completed your task. "Fuck...," he murmured, gratitude shining in his eyes when he opened them and met yours. "I don't know what I would do without you."

The night Eddie was injured was one of those occasions that would be remembered not because of the music, but because of the chaos that followed. Corroded Coffin, your band, had gotten a concert in a biker bar on the outskirts of the city, a place known for its rude clientele and unbridled atmosphere. The band was excited, especially Eddie, who always sought to push things to the limit. The place was small and the stage barely an elevation above the ground, only a little higher than the shoulders of an average man. Your battery occupied most of the space, leaving little room for the rest of the members. The crowd that night was scarce; less than fifteen souls gathered near the stage, lost in their own conversations and drinks. Eddie, under the influence of substances that promised a night without inhibitions, decided that it would be a good idea to try to surf over the crowd. In an impulse, he threw himself into the void, hoping to be held by the hands of the spectators. But the audience, taken by surprise, dispersed quickly, leaving a void where Eddie hoped to find support. He fell heavily, his right arm hitting the ground first. The sound of something breaking was almost as loud as the music. In a desperate attempt to cushion the fall, he extended his other hand, the left, which was still holding the microphone. His fingers were crushed between the metal and the ground, and a sharp pain ran through his body. Eddie's screams were mixed with the music as the audience, now aware of the situation, approached to help. The show stopped abruptly, and the confusion took over the place. Gareth jumped off the stage, followed by the rest of the band, as they tried to understand the severity of Eddie's injuries. Eddie's right arm was clearly broken, hanging at an unnatural angle, and his left fingers were swollen and deformed. The night ended not with applause, but with sirens, while an ambulance arrived to take Eddie to the nearest hospital.

The recovery would be long and tedious. Eddie would have to learn to do things with his non-dominant hand and endure the pain and frustration of not being able to play his guitar, and something more than this. The plaster in his dominant hand drastically limited his mobility, while the bandage in the other imposed additional restrictions on him. Every daily task became a titanic task, from tying your shoes to reaching for a glass on the highest shelf. Frustration and pain were constant companions in his day to day, and the inability to play his beloved guitar only intensified his despair. The night was particularly difficult for Eddie. Accustomed to releasing his sexual tension through masturbation, he was now deprived of this relief. His excitement was palpable, a constant reminder of his unmet need. In his mind, he relived past moments of solitary pleasure, now unattainable due to his condition.

In the midst of his anguish, he turned to you, his lifelong friend. You did all the tasks he couldn't do, except the most important, at least for him.

Although he had always seen you as a loyal partner, now he was beginning to notice a different spark in your presence. He remembered the nights in the pub, when the music enveloped the room and your presence was as comforting as it was stimulating. In those moments, he saw you with new eyes, a vision that was now intensified with his frustration and repressed sexual need. Your presence, and the minimal visualization of your collarbone through that t-shirt, only served to kindle the fire of his desire. Every adjustment in the bandage or every accidental contact caused a wave of forbidden sensations. Eddie was in a state of constant excitement, his body longing for liberation and satisfaction, and those noises were not of relief, but also of pleasure.

Eddie's cock was beating with an almost painful urgency, trapped between his thighs, anxious to be released. However, she was trapped under the thin sheets of the hospital, and the idea of being discovered in that state was too embarrassing to contemplate.

While the nurses completed their last night care, giving him medication and making sure everything was in order, Eddie got impatient. Although he wanted to be discharged, he knew it was not yet the right time. Possibly his recovery was delayed due to unexpected complications or the need for more medical tests to ensure his full recovery.

You decided to say goodbye to Munson and leave the room, since you had to prepare for the next day's classes. With a slight touch on his arm you said goodbye, and as you walked away, Eddie couldn't help but admire your movements, watching your uncovered legs move.

When you finally left, Eddie strongly separated his thighs, releasing his cock that was full of weeks of accumulated desire. The burning need for satisfaction consumed him, but with his dominant hand immobilized, he knew that he could not resort to his usual methods. However, instead of surrendering to frustration, he began to devise a plan to find relief from his sexual urgency.

The whisper of the sheets when touching each other filled the room, accompanied by the soft buzz of the lights in the hallway that filtered through the ajar door. Eddie twisted in bed, struggling to free himself from the oppression of his underpants without risking bending his non-dominant hand and causing more pain. Every move was a challenge, and sweat beaded his forehead as he strove to reach his goal. "Fuck, c’mon..." he murmured in a barely audible whisper, aware that the elderly patient next to him, separated with a sheet carefully arranged by his wife, was soundly asleep. The roommate's advanced age gave him some confidence, knowing that he probably wouldn't realize if Munson decided to look for a little pleasure in the middle of the night.

With trembling movements, Eddie finally managed to lower his underpants, releasing his throbbing erection. The temptation was overwhelming, and although he knew that it was not the right time or place, the urgency of his sexual need pushed him forward. His cock stood up with a sober and natural majesty. Its size, although not exaggerated, exhibited a perfect proportion, promising satisfaction without being intimidating. The skin that wrapped it was smooth and soft to the touch, with a slightly velvety texture that invited contact. The blue and prominent veins meandered along their length, highlighting their vascularity and suggesting a latent potency. Each vein seemed to pulsate with a life of its own, marking the rhythm of its pulse and the urgency of its desire. The thickness of its member was remarkable, filling the hand with a comforting firmness. However, its form was not only physical, but also aesthetic. A soft curve adorned its contour, adding a natural elegance to its appearance. Each strand of hair seemed to delicately caress the skin, adding a feeling of texture and depth to its appearance.

You had gone out the door, the sound of your steps was fading in the hallway. But then, a twinge of oblivion stopped you; you had left your glasses. You turned on your steps, opened the door without making any noise, carefully sliding the sheet, and there was Munson, struggling with his cock, trying to reach that unreachable point with his hand. You stood still, observing. An accomplice silence spread between you, only interrupted by the slight rubbing of his fingers against the thin skin that covered his entire cock.

You were frozen in the room, watching the scene with a mixture of surprise and fascination. Eddie's cock was just as you had imagined it, but seeing it in that state, struggling with the need for satisfaction, caused a heat to start forming in your pants. Your cheeks blushed at the intensity of the moment, feeling trapped between shame and a growing excitement.

He, oblivious to your presence at first, seemed to be trapped in his own world of despair and desire. With clumsy movements and limited by his injury, he was looking for a way out of his sexual torment. That's when he had the great idea of turning his body slightly and rubbing against the mattress, simulating the movement of a sexual relationship. His movements were cautious at first, but soon they became more fluid and rhythmic. His eyes were closed, lost in the feeling of self-induced pleasure, while you watched the scene with a mixture of fascination and bewilderment. "Mmhmm..." he moaned, so you felt as if some butterflies were hitting your stomach hard. It seemed as if they were eating you inside. You were completely hot, but you decided to intervene, since it didn't seem appropriate to be observing Eddie at a time like this.

"Edd...?" You whispered, capturing all his attention. At that moment, shame completely invaded you. You were totally embarrassed, even more than him. You felt as if you had invaded his privacy, as if you were witnessing something intimate and personal that I should never have seen.

When Eddie finally listened to you, his reaction was instant and tumultuous. He was completely startled, his body tense and his eyes wide open in a gesture of panic. He began to randomly insult out loud, a cascade of curses that filled the room and made you jump in surprise. "Shit! Fuck! What are you doing here?!" Eddie shouted, his voice full of shame and despair. He clung to the nearest sheet, trying to cover himself, but when he bent his hand he hurt himself, and a deep moan of pain escaped from his lips. The situation became more and more tense when you noticed that the old man in the bed next door began to frown, a sign that he could wake up at any moment. Without thinking twice, you rushed to where Eddie was, tightly covering his thick lips with your hand and staring at his round eyes, trying to convey the urgency of the situation with your gaze.

When you approached Eddie, with the urgency of the palpable situation in the air, you felt how his cock, through the sheet, was in contact with your side. A shudder ran through your body as she perceived the heat emanating from it, like a burning ember that burned the skin and stoked the flame of excitement. Everything in you began to tremble, from your hands to your legs that barely held your weight. You felt like a flan, on the verge of collapse, at any moment you could collapse me in the face of the intensity of the situation.

"What are you doing, idiot?" You asked whispering, your voice just a murmur full of annoyance and shame. Your eyes were desperately looking for theirs, looking for some answer or sign of repentance in their gaze. "Why you beating your meat in a hospital, asshole?" You kept whispering, your tone of voice mixed frustration and worry. Even covering his lips firmly, you hoped that your words would make him reflect on the seriousness of his behavior and the need to contain himself in a place as inappropriate as that.

With his left hand, Eddie pushed yours away, finally allowing him to breathe normally, although his face was totally reddened by shame. "I haven't come or jerked off for a month, so don't question what I do or where," he also whispered in defense, his altered tone revealed his overexcitement and the urgency of his unmet need.

His words hit you hard, reminding you of the internal struggle he was facing. "And what?! You should go to the bathroom!" You answered him, your voice equally whispering but full of frustration, gesticulating forcefully near him to emphasize your point.

"I can't! That's why I'm doing it here!" Eddie exclaimed, his despair palpable in every word.

"What do you mean you can't?" You asked, trying to understand the situation while you struggled to contain your own confusion and dismay.

"Well, I can't jerk off, that's what happens! I need to cum," Eddie explained, his voice full of anguish and shame. The vulnerability of his confession resonated in the air, exposing the depth of his need and his inability to satisfy it in a conventional way.

You were silent, observing Munson's expression under the slight reflection that emanated from the moon. You were very hot for seeing him that way, so vulnerable, that you didn't think about what you said. "And... do you need help?" You murmured, letting the words escape from your lips without thinking about the consequences. As soon as you said that, Eddie's expression changed completely. Now he was pale, his eyes opened like plates, revealing a mixture of surprise and anxiety. However, you noticed how his cock moved slightly in response to your question, a non-verbal sign that your offer had been received with interest and excitement.

An uncomfortable silence filled the room while you looked at each other, each processing the situation differently.

"What exactly do you mean?" Eddie asked with a crooked smile, still unsure of his point.

"You would do the same for me, wouldn't you? Although I don't think I'll ever get to such a... perverted state of despair," you said laughing, feeling how the tension dissipated and a sexual warmth filled the room. Eddie settled down, crossing his arms over his chest and resting his back against the head of the bed. "You're the pervert, I don't know how long you'd been watching me," he replied with a mocking smile. "But yes, I know you would do the same for me. That's what friends do, isn't it?" He joked, noticing how his cock was begging for it to be uncovered and touched.

After that exchange of glances full of complicity, a tense silence took over the room, as if you were both weighing the meaning of what had just happened. You decided to break the silence by placing your ass on the bed, staring at Eddie with determination. You began to lower the sheet that covered him up to his chest, revealing what you both wanted so much. The excitement invaded you even more when you saw his body vulnerable and exposed to you. Your best friend was defenseless, and he couldn't do anything to stop you, which gave you a feeling of power and freedom to explore. The fact of being in a hospital, sharing a room, added an element of risk and emotion to the situation. You were in a semi-public place, which intensified the feeling of the forbidden and excitingness of your meeting.

Munson breathed with difficulty, his half-open lips let out his choppy breath, while the slight movements of his cock gently hit his abdomen, setting the rhythm of his desire. You decided to stop that by grabbing his erection, noticing how hot and wet it was. A shiver ran down your back when you felt its heat throbbing between your fingers, increasing your own excitement and anticipation for what was to come.

After starting gently, your movements became more energetic and determined. With your hand in his mouth to put out any noise, you began to pump even harder on his erection. Each onslaught was greeted with a drowned moan on his part, his hips were looking for more depth, and you gave it to him without hesitation.

The tension in the room was palpable, every sigh and every moan was proof of the unbridled passion you shared. Suddenly, without warning, you took your mouth towards his cock, staring into his eyes as your tongue began to draw circles around his member. Eddie's eyes rolled backwards in ecstasy, his hips moved with difficulty, responding to the expert movements of your tongue. Each lick was received with a deep and guttural moan on his part, his voice vibrated against your fingers as he struggled to contain the overwhelming pleasure that invaded him.

And suddenly, without warning, you felt his body tense, how his voice vibrated against your fingers, and how his warm and sticky liquid soaked your cheeks inside, filling your mouth with its unique and delicious flavor. A moan escaped from your lips in response, an echo of his pleasure that mixed with yours in the air full of desire. “Uhh… fuck, yes…”

Taking his member out of your mouth gracefully, you looked at him with a naughty smile. "I thought you were going to hold on longer..." you joked, before swallowing everything that Eddie had expelled for his cock.

"I told you that I hadn't cum for almost a month..." Eddie stressed with a smile, running his thumb over your lips, picking up some of his remains. With a seductive gesture, you brought his thumb to your mouth, allowing it to enter slightly, savoring the sweet taste of its essence.

#fanfic #stranger things #eddie munson stranger things #eddiemunson #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson #eddie munson reader insert #reader #eddie the freak munson #stranger things 4 #enemies to friends to lovers #oneshot #one shot #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x masc!reader #eddie munson writing #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female character #eddie munson smut #smut

[deakyjoe]

Every Breath You Take

Pairing: Michael Myers x Reader (afab but no pronouns used I don’t think)

Category: stalker romance (??), smut (!!)

Summary: It shouldn’t exhilarate you so much knowing a serial killer was stalking you. But you just can’t help yourself.

Warnings: 18+ only, smut, unprotected p in v sex (wrap it before you tap it), vaginal fingering, dry humping, biting, licking, creampie, overstimulation, motorboating, pain as pleasure, slight voyeurism/exhibitionism, choking, scent kink, multiple orgasms, nipple play, over the clothes handjob, under the clothes handjob, slight dubcon (only because Michael doesn’t talk but I tried to make it as clear as possible that they just want to fuck each other), stalking, mentions of injuries and blood, mentions of murder, breaking and entering, morally questionable reader, mask is on and off, lights stay off during sex, virgin Michael, a little dark I guess (??)

Word count: 6.4k

A/N: For those who love masked men (aka me). For those who want to fuck slashers (aka me). For those who love the quiet type (aka me). For those who love a tall man (aka me). For those who love a strong man (aka me). I wrote this for me basically. I don’t think there’s much of an audience for Michael Myers fics within my followers but hopefully it reaches the right side of Tumblr :)

Consider buying me a coffee :)

It was probably disgusting how much it excited you knowing he watched you every day.

He'd stand in your back yard each night, totally still, and just look through your windows for hours. And then, when he was satisfied you assumed, he'd leave. But he always came right back the next day at the same time.

When you'd first noticed him, you'd been terrified. Naturally. You knew exactly who he was, you watched the news and heard stories. And the white mask and blue coveralls were unmistakable. You'd seen him through your window and locked all of the doors immediately. Then you waited. Patiently.

You didn't know what you were waiting for. Him to kill you... or to defend yourself. Your chances of survival were slim, he was inhumanly strong from what you'd heard. But you clutched a knife in your hand nonetheless, mirroring him in a strange way, in case you did suddenly have to fight him off.

Luckily, it never came down to that dilemma as he left a couple of hours later without even a step closer to your back door. You blinked and he was gone.

He came back the next night and did the same thing. And then the next night. And the next. And the next. Until it became a ritual.

You went about your evening and he watched. You always wondered whether he watched you during the day as well but you'd never noticed him. You also wondered what it was about you that didn't make him murder you straight away.

You were older than his usual victims, sure. And he supposedly liked to commit most of his crimes whilst his victims were in the middle of sexual acts and you didn't tend to have many visitors over. But then what was making him fixate on you?

You just couldn't figure it out.

It got to a point where you were less scared of him and more intrigued. Having him stand and stare was getting boring, you wanted to know why. No. You craved knowing why. But you couldn't ask him. You'd heard he wasn't fond of talking.

So what were you supposed to do? Just let it carry on? That was your only choice.

But things changed one evening.

When he appeared something didn't seem quite right. For one, he was seven minutes later than usual. And his left shoulder slumped forward with all of his weight placed onto his right leg.

He was injured.

And you couldn't help but feel bad for him.

So, like an insane person, you unlocked your door and opened it for him.

As you stood in the doorway staring at him, you noticed him straighten up. As if he were surprised. But you knew the man didn't show emotions, much less any that would display him being caught off guard in any way. So you put it down as your imagination or a trick of the moonlight.

But you left your door open. An invitation. Like he needed one of those.

He didn't move so you left the doorway and went to retrieve your first aid kit from the cabinet above the sink. And by the time you'd found it and turned back around, Michael Myers was standing about a foot into your kitchen.

You stared at him for a second, unsure of the emotions turning in your stomach. "Close the door. It's cold outside."

You really didn't know if you could afford to be giving him orders but considering he hadn't murdered you in the months he'd been watching you, you thought that you were probably safe until you'd at least bandaged up whatever wounds hid beneath the blue jumpsuit.

Not sticking around to see if he did it, you walked to your lounge and put a lamp on. His footsteps were silent so you kept an eye on the archway where he'd emerge from the kitchen. Which he did a few seconds later.

"Sit on the couch."

Surprisingly, he did as he was told. But you thought you might be pushing your luck so you stopped telling him to do things.

As he sat down, not relaxed in the slightest with the best posture you'd ever seen, you realised that getting a wounded man to sit on your nice furniture was probably a bad idea. What if he got blood everywhere? Too late now. You weren't going to ask him to move.

You moved towards him slowly, trying not to spook him. He still had a knife clutched in his hand after all. It was bloodstained. You ignored it.

Michael watched you closely, his head didn't move but you could feel his gaze through the dark eyeholes of the mask. It didn't escape your notice that he was still extremely tall even when sat down.

"What's hurt?"

It was a stupid question, you could see where blood was seeping through his clothes and the slashes in the fabric was clear. But given your very recent history of poor choices, an obvious question seemed like the least of your worries.

He didn't respond anyway. No finger point, no head tilt, no shrug. Not a single inch of his body moved apart from his chest from his breathing. If you couldn't see his inhales and exhales then you'd think he was some sort of dummy or mannequin.

"Have you got a shirt on underneath the jumpsuit?"

Why were you still asking questions?

He still said nothing, which you expected, but he did raise a hand to pop the first couple buttons open to reveal a grey t-shirt under the blue coveralls.

You sighed and nodded. "Um, you're going to need to- to undo a few more buttons. So I can get to your shoulder."

The blood stain was getting bigger and staining his clothes a deep purple.

He tilted his head to the side at you, the most emotion he'd shown so far. But he did as he was told again and then pushed the suit down his arms so it lowered to his waist. You didn't fail to notice how the grey t-shirt clung to him nicely, maybe a size or two too small, and displayed every inch of rippling muscle that covered him. Explained his inhuman strength.

You took a few supplies from the kit and started cleaning up the injury on his shoulder, careful to avoid staring at how his sleeve stretched against his bicep.

When you noticed him staring at you from the corner of your eye, you cleared your throat and pulled away again to distract yourself with looking for other injuries. Which was a fine idea until you realised that blood was dripping from beneath the rubber that adorned his face.

You went to lift the edge of the mask, no intention of taking it off, but his large hands gripped your wrists before you even had the chance. The knife was suddenly forgotten on the cushion of the couch.

You gasped in pain, his hold was tight, but didn't pull away. Trying your hardest to meet his eyes as best you could, you attempted to explain. "I'm not going to take it off but I need to get to your neck. You're bleeding. Lift the mask to your chin and hold it there so I can clean your neck."

There were a few tense moments of heavy breathing from him before he let go and did as you said. He was too agreeable, very out of character from all of the stories you'd heard about him. Were people wrong? Or was he acting differently than usual? How were you supposed to know?

You shook the thoughts from your head and got on with cleaning him up. You couldn't find the source of the blood so assumed it must've been coming from higher up on his face. But you weren't going to ask him to lift the mask anymore. You were a risk taker, if the night was any indication of that, but you didn't have a death wish. Mostly.

"Done." You mumbled and stepped back a few paces, looking down to clean away all of your supplies.

By the time you looked up he was standing again fully clothed.

"You going to kill me now finally?" There was a hint of laughter in your voice. If he did you wouldn't blame him. You probably deserved it after inviting a serial killer into your home and treating him like his own personal nurse.

He didn't respond, just turned and left the room. And by the time you got to the kitchen to follow him out, he was gone and the back door was shut and locked like he'd never even been there.

"See you tomorrow night then." You grumbled to yourself, assuming he'd return as he usually did.

And he did.

Uninjured this time. To your relief and, honestly, slight disappointment. There was really something very wrong with you.

But the routine returned to normal. Michael Myers would appear in your back yard every night at the same time and watch you for hours with no sign of even attempting to enter your house to murder you. And he'd leave when he was done watching whatever he sought out from you.

The initial thrill you'd had knowing he liked watching you had disappeared quickly after you'd realised there was less danger than you'd expected. And the fact that you could get so much closer to him was more exciting than anything else.

The idea of him being inside your house again played on your mind constantly, rolling around in there as regularly as a forbidden fantasy. And maybe it was. But surely you weren't fantasising about Michael Myers... right?

Perhaps the memory of his muscles and his height, just his sheer size even, plagued your brain way more often than was considered normal. The thought that he could probably just snap you in two with his large hands and impossible strength if he chose to, how easy it would be for him to break in and end your life on his will. But he chose not to.

That set your nerves alight.

So you turned your nights into a staring contest.

He'd stand in your back yard and stare into your window. You'd stand in your kitchen and stare out of your window.

And you slowly got more daring. You began to retire to bed earlier, going upstairs to your bedroom and changing right in his direct view. It was one of the few times he moved, tilting his head up slightly to see you better through the mask.

You didn't give him a full show, knowing it probably wasn't what he wanted. He liked to kill "promiscuous" people after all. But it was enough to give him an idea, a way to tease him. It was entertaining for you at least, even if he wasn't bothered.

But then one night when you noticed that he was a few feet closer to your house, you realised it was probably working.

He was tempted.

Whether it was to kill you or to do something else, you weren't sure. But you were exhilarated either way.

When he returned obviously injured again a few nights later, you sighed to yourself in annoyance. Yes, you were excited he'd be in your house again. But out of need, not want. You still unlocked your door and left it open for him as you waited in the lounge nevertheless.

When he emerged from the dark archway between your kitchen and your lounge, you looked him up and down. His stance was better than last time but he was covered in more blood. You deduced that it probably wasn't his.

"Sit." You whispered hoarsely. "Please."

Like manners were going to affect whether he killed you or not.

It went pretty much the same as the time before, cleaning the blood from him as best you could and bandaging up what was easy to access. He didn't flinch or wince, not even at the stuff that made your toes curl just from touching.

It wasn't until you were just finishing off spreading some antibacterial lotion on a gash on his thigh that you noticed he was breathing heavier than usual. You looked up at him and frowned, confused. But when he gave you no indication as to why he was suddenly almost hyperventilating, you shrugged it off and reached for a band-aid. As you glanced towards the wound to get an idea of the size you'd need for it, you realised what was wrong.

"Oh."

He was hard.

"Oh."

The prominent bulge in his crotch wasn't shy in showing you that it was there. He was big, to say at the very least.

Your mouth opened and closed a couple of times before you settled on a reassurance. "It's okay. This happens. Especially when someone is touching you a lot."

You figured this was the most he'd been touched in over a decade.

"I'll just uh..." You stood up to step away from him but he launched his arm forward to grab you by the wrist, not letting you go any further.

"Michael..."

He answered you by tugging your body into his lap, legs straddling either side of his thighs. You made sure not to settle your weight onto him, very conscious of what that could lead to.

But he had other ideas.

He planted both of his large hands on either side of your waist and pushed you to sit fully against him. And there was a lot to sit against.

You bit your tongue to prevent any noise coming out. What now? What did he expect?

His breathing was shaky as he surveyed you through the small eyeholes of his mask, hands hovering over your sides for a second.

You couldn't deny that this position, this close proximity, was turning you on. Especially feeling how hard he was pushed up against you.

He seemed to decide what he wanted to do next as his fists gripped the fabric of your pyjama shirt, suddenly tearing it open so buttons flew everywhere and then ripping it off of you and tossing it to a darkened corner of the room. His hands didn't hesitate it exploring the new uncovered areas of skin, his rough callouses against your soft flesh. He was clearly enjoying this new adventure as he appeared to grow impossibly harder beneath you. Lots of him was impossible.

The clasp he had on your breasts was almost painful but your eyes rolled back in pleasure nevertheless. You liked that he was manhandling you, the strength you'd been fantasising about since day one finally being used on you.

His hands slid down your sides until they met your hips, fingers digging in and pulling them against his. A choked moan escaped your mouth drowning out the sound of his own grunt. When Michael decided that he seemed to like that, he did it again. Rougher this time. And quicker. Then he set a pace doing it over and over again. Your hands flew to his shoulders to give yourself something to hold onto, some grounding. Because this was more than you could handle.

How could something so simple feel so good?

The feeling of his coveralls rubbing against you through the thin material of your sleep shorts was heavenly. That, mixed with his hardness pushing against you in all the right place meant you were in pure ecstasy.

The uncontrollable noises leaving you would've been embarrassing if it weren't for the fact that this was the best you'd ever felt. And you hadn't even had sex. Yet.

Barely a sound left Michael, just the occasional short groan to go along with his heavy breathing.

You couldn't quite tell where he was looking until his head suddenly snapped down and his eyes clearly fixated on where your breasts were bouncing with the rapid movement of the two of you rocking against each other. A slightly louder noise left him then.

There was no rest for you, even if your legs did grow tired and you ran out of breath because he wouldn't let you stop moving. You knew you were probably creating a wet patch on his clothes and that would only grow bigger when he finally came. You were surprised he was lasting this long to be honest. For someone who had been locked up most of his life and hadn't had any sexual experience, he had some stamina in him. But maybe he wasn't a virgin. Was your assumption wrong?

You didn't get time to dwell on it as his arm suddenly locked around your waist and he stopped the two of you. Looking down at him, he was almost the perfect picture of composure. Just some heavy breathing indicated what the two of you had been up to. You couldn't imagine you looked quite as calm.

The arm around you stiffened as he titled the two of you to the side.

"What are you doi- woah." The room was plunged into darkness as he switched the lamp off and then pulled you tight against him again. "Why did you- oh."

Your unfinished question was answered with the sound of rubber hitting the floor penetrating your ears and the feeling of Michael's breath against your skin. You didn't get the chance to question him further as to why he did that as he immediately buried his face in the valley of your breasts and rocked your hips against his to get the friction going again, his free hand rubbing up and down your thigh as the two of you moved.

You bit your bottom lip, extremely happy that he hadn't decided to just stop and leave, that this was still going. The happiness only extended when he licked a drop of sweat off of your skin and you almost screamed. But you couldn't imagine if was the kind of screaming he was used to so you bit your tongue.

Trying to adjust to the sudden absence of light by blinking, but having little success, you looked down to where you imagined Michael's head would be. You saw nothing. Naturally, the only solution to that was to move your hands up his shoulders, up his neck and into his hair. As you curled your fingers into the locks, you were pleasantly surprised to find how soft it was.

You would've smiled or giggled to yourself if he hadn't chosen that exact moment to bite into your collarbone and thrust up underneath you. Your response of tugging on his hair seemed to go down well as he did it again.

"Fuck." You whined against the top of his head, eyes scrunching shut.

That caught Michael's attention, his head pulling back and his free hand abandoning your thigh to wrap around the front of your neck, squeezing slightly when situated there.

You knew what he was doing. Mixing what he usually found pleasurable with this new experience. You wondered whether it was getting him off even more. If the way he was practically throbbing beneath you was any indication, then yes.

This added element of danger sent a shiver down your spine and an intense pulse to your core, making you rock against him without any prompting from him at all. You could still breathe but you knew he could stop that at any second if he chose to.

A breathless moan rumbled from the back of your throat as he squeezed your neck tighter, the arm locked around your waist pushing you against him even harder.

You were so close. So, so close. You chased your high like it was running away from you, rubbing yourself against him as roughly as you could. But there was no need.

Because when Michael leaned forward again to lick a long strip up from your left breast to your neck and then bit you, hard, it was like you saw the pearly gates of heaven. Or the fiery descent to hell.

Your orgasm crashed over you in hot waves as you collapsed against him, forcing his body to hit the back of the couch as your forehead met his and you gasped into his mouth, lips almost grazing but not quite meeting. Your grasp on his hair was tight, tugging on the roots like they were your lifeline. Your naked chest pressed against his clothed one, and that combined with the slight pain of the hair pulling was enough for Michael to come underneath you.

You could feel him twitching against you, only making you shudder against him more, as the wet patch on his jumpsuit grew as you predicted. The quietest extended groan left his mouth as he tensed beneath you, arms locking around you. His hips bucked up against yours a few times weakly before he grew limp.

You rested for a moment, trying to gain some strength back in your shaking legs, before you pushed off of him and stood up. Feeling around in the air for the lamp, you covered your eyes before switching it back on.

"Find your mask and put it back on." You instructed, waiting a moment for him to do so.

He didn't make any noise as he moved, as usual, and the only indication you had that he was done was the looming feeling of his presence in front of you and the sound of his exhales rattling the rubber that adorned him.

You uncovered your eyes and squinted against the sudden light, looking up to find Michael almost chest to chest with you. Well, head to chest. He was very tall after all.

Your gaze flickered down to his left hand which was slightly extended towards you. He was holding your pyjama shirt. The one he'd ruined by ripping all of the buttons off.

"Oh, thanks." You took it from him and put it back on, holding it together at the front by crossing your arms against your chest.

Probably a bad idea considering this position made the top gape open and your breasts push together to create an exaggerated cleavage. Michael didn't seem to mind as he lifted his right hand and traced a finger across the swell of your breasts for a moment before dropping his arm back to his side again.

You dropped your eyes away in embarrassment, and slight arousal, and noticed the mess the two of you had made on his blue jumpsuit.

"You're gonna want to wash that." You said, meekly gesturing towards it. You couldn't deny that seeing the stains that you'd made together was making your skin feel hot again.

He didn't even look to see what you were talking about, just continued to stare at you through his mask.

You tried to come up with something to say but nothing sprung to mind. What were you supposed to say to a serial killer that you'd just dry humped and orgasmed on top of?

It seemed like you didn't need to come up with a one-sided conversation starter though as he suddenly turned on his heel and left the room. You hesitated before following him. Stupid really since you couldn't even keep up with him at the best of times, especially not now on weak legs.

And, as usual, by the time you'd reached the kitchen he was gone and the door was locked.

He continued to return every night as normal but didn't enter your house again. No injuries seemed to be inflicted upon him for a while. You were beginning to get bored. Sighing every time he left with no hint of coming inside again.

Which is why a few days later you were very shocked by his out of character behaviour.

You woke up cold, your blankets stripped from your bed and the feeling of someone watching you sinking a chilling freeze into your bones. It was soon clear why you felt that way.

His silhouette was partially outlined by the moonlight coming through your bedroom window as he stood over you.

You shot up in bed, giving yourself a head rush. "Michael, what the fu-" You were cut off as he grasped the hand that was reaching for your bedside lamp. "No light? Why?"

He answered your question by pressing something rubber into your palm. His mask.

"Oh. Okay..." You frowned to yourself as you dropped the mask on your nightstand. What was he expecting you to do if he was injured but you couldn't see him? "I can't clean your wounds if it's dark."

It was too dark to see his face but the natural light from outside was enough to see him shake his head no. He wasn't injured. What did he need then?

"Then what? Why are you here? At this time?" You were still slightly dazed from just waking up, trying to shake some coherent thought into your head. What was the time? He'd already been and gone earlier that evening. How had he gotten in? You were sure you'd locked the door? Maybe that made no difference?

His breathing was heavy, shoulders moving up and down with his laboured inhales and exhales.

His grip on your wrist hadn't loosened as he pulled your hand towards him, resting it on his abdomen and then slowly dragging down and down and-

"Oh."

He was hard.

Very hard.

"You want me to-"

You'd guessed by this point that he probably hated hearing you talk as he was always cutting you off. This time by pushing on your shoulders so you fell flat on your back and bounced on the mattress. And then he was on top of you in mere fractions of a second.

He was smothering.

His mere presence was enough to stop your breath in your throat and having him be this close, having all of his weight pressed against you this way, practically stole the oxygen from your bloodstream.

His breath was hot on your face, his nose barely grazing against yours before he moved to trace it along your hairline and then down your neck where he inhaled deeply, groaning lowly at your scent.

You reached up to touch him but he was too fast, clasping both of your wrists in one hand and pinning them above your head.

"This doesn't work if I can't touch you." You mumbled frustratedly, more to yourself than to him.

It wasn't strictly true but what did he know? Last time he hadn't used any real technique, just done whatever felt best for him which luckily also felt good for you. He'd used the mere skill brought to him by innate exploration. Maybe this time he'd be more purposeful with you.

Unlikely.

The statement you'd made seemed to have some sort of influence on him though as he slowly let go of your wrists and let you dig one into his hair, where you gently pulled on it, and let the other drift to undo the top buttons of his coveralls. You popped them open cautiously, one by one, until your nails stroked the material of his grey undershirt. You assumed it was grey as usual.

Your fingers wandered to the neckline where you swooped the index to get a feel of his skin. He froze above you but didn't stop you.

"I'm going to undo more. Just stop me if you want. But gently." You clarified, not wanting bruised wrists in the morning which was guaranteed if he grabbed them with his vice-like grip again.

Each button fell open easily, like they were dying to be free from their clasps, and Michael didn't stop you once. And when the last one was undone, he leant back slightly on his knees to let you push the jumpsuit down so it bunched around his waist just like the first time he'd been in your house.

You took the opportunity to let your hands roam the muscles you'd been admiring since the first time you'd seen him up close. They were solid. He was solid.

He crowded over you again, breathing getting more rapid the more you touched him. He let out a soft sound when your hands reached his crotch, palming him over his clothes.

"Take them off and I can touch you more." You offered, attempting to sound sultry but sure you just sounded desperate instead.

He hesitated but did as you said, standing up to push the jumpsuit further down his legs but still not taking it off completely. Then he was on top of you again, pushing your hand against him before you even had the chance to realise he was so close again. You squeezed him through his underwear and he bucked his hips against your palm.

You did that for a while, moving your hand up and down the outline of him through the material and ignoring the ache between your own legs. Getting him riled up was a lot of fun, especially when he let noises slip every now and again. You just wished you could see the reactions on his face. Did he bite his lip? Did he screw his eyes shut? Was his jaw dropped open? You guessed you'd never know.

While those thoughts plagued your mind, it seemed Michael had changed his. And what was happening wasn't good enough for him anymore. So he slapped your hand away suddenly. Before you could even begin to utter a sentence, he ripped your pyjama shirt open.

Great, another one ruined.

His hands shot to your chest, away from where they'd been resting either side of your head previously, and he started to knead the flesh. Your back arched, pushing your chest closer to his and making your nipples rub against the fabric of his t-shirt. Michael must've figured out that the stimulation was good based on the gasp you let out as he moved his attention to your nipples, flicking and tweaking them with his fingers.

He didn't seem hesitant at all in what he was doing but it was also clear he wasn't experienced either. There was no rhythm to his touches, he just did whatever felt right. And that worked for you.

You grew extremely wet when he started grinding himself against your core from instinct alone. You wanted more, craved more, needed more.

Your hands flew to the waistband of his underwear, tugging them down a few inches to pull him free. You knew he was big but having the real thing in your hand, no clothing barriers at all, was a whole other story.

You could hear his teeth clicking shut when you started to stroke him, skin on skin, spreading his pre-cum up and down his length.

"Fuck, Michael. Jesus." You garbled, head wild with lust and nothing else. "Need you inside me."

He stopped moving at that, hands falling away from your chest and hips no longer bucking to pump himself into your palm.

Maybe he really was clueless.

"You know? Inside me?" You reached around to find one of his hands, pushing it down the waistband of your sleep shorts until his fingers met your wetness.

He wasn't even doing anything but the sensation alone of him touching you made you shiver. That was until he seemed to understand what he was feeling. His head tilted to the side, just about visible in the moonlight, as he let his fingers explore. As he grazed your clit, you squeaked quietly. He seemed to like that so he did it a couple more times, just to illicit a reaction out of you. But he got bored quickly and kept on feeling.

When he reached the source of the wetness, he pushed a finger in. You moaned. Loudly. He liked that a lot more, so pulled out the finger and reinserted with a second one joining in. Your eyes rolled back at this. And the sounds you made reached a new decibel. Michael did the same thing again and again, pumping his fingers just to feel you clench around him.

When he eventually pulled his fingers free, you whined in protest before the sounds of him sucking the taste of you off of his skin hit you. And you decided that maybe the loss of contact was okay if that's what he was going to do instead.

When he was satisfied with that, Michael tore your shorts off of you completely and tossed them over his shoulder somewhere. Then his underwear was pushed further down and he was spreading your legs apart, as far as they would go.

Your heart rate picked up further than it was already running, probably entering dangerous territory. But you didn't care. It was finally about to happen.

Michael crawled over you, shadowed face hanging above yours. You just nodded at him, wondering whether he was able to see you do it. Either way, he seemed to get the message that you really really wanted to do this. So, with a hand on one of your thighs to hold you in place, and the other on his cock to guide him, he pushed into you.

At that moment you decided that you were definitely seeing the devil in the afterlife.

But it was worth it for this.

He stretched you open perfectly, gliding in with ease considering how wet you already were. But that was nothing in comparison to how you felt hearing him letting out what could only be described as a mixture between a whimper and a pleasured groan against your ear.

If never hearing him talk meant that the noises he let out during sex made you tingle, then you'd take his silence any day.

The hand on your thigh moved to curl your leg around his waist, changing the angle so he moved into you deeper. And the other rested against your head to keep him propped up. Yours scraped down his back in ecstasy, probably leaving nail marks along the plains of his skin. You were sure he wouldn't mind, he'd had worse injuries.

He stayed still once he'd entered you, stiff but breathing heavily.

"Move, Michael." You whispered. "Please move."

And when he pulled out and slammed back in again, you were positive you could see the grim reaper knocking at your door ready to whisk you away to the tortuous pits of hell.

All you knew is that you certainly weren't seeing heaven after this.

Michael grunted, head hanging so his soft hair tickled against your skin. But he seemed to get the idea as he pumped in and out of you at a ruthless pace. Skin slapped together, your chests rubbing against one another as you bounced up and down the surface of the bed, which shuffled along the floor with every thrust.

You'd never known sex to be so loud. Maybe you'd just never had sex as good as this. Because the roaring of blood in your ears definitely wasn't helping.

You couldn't help the sounds that were escaping your parted lips, thankful that your neighbours' houses weren't close enough to hear you. Your other leg moved to wrap around Michael's waist, tugging him closer to you and locking him in place. You need him to be as close as possible, to be as deep inside you as possible.

The hand on your thigh dug in deep, certainly leaving bruises, before trailing up the length of your body and wrapping around the front of your neck. He pushed down this time, squeezing slightly to cut off your airway just a little. It excited you more than anything and made you clench around him.

That seemed unexpected to Michael as he faltered slightly before pounding into you harder than before, having absolutely no mercy on your body. You only clenched harder.

His pattern began to fumble, thrusts become more forceful but less regular. He was getting close. And you weren't far off either. You let one of your hands fall from his back and placed it between the two of you, starting to rub your clit. He took notice of this and pushed your hand away to replace it with his own, letting oxygen rush back into your lungs again.

The head rush combined with the pressure on your clit tipped you over the edge into oblivion. You choked out a muffled scream as your orgasm ripped through your body, tears falling from the corners of your eyes.

But Michael didn't let up for a second. This just seemed to give him a new wave of energy as his pace picked up rubbing tight circles on your clit and slamming into you with no forgiveness.

You approached the edge rapidly again, the raw feeling over overstimulation pushing you closer and closer. His sweat dripped onto you, creating a sheen that let your bodies slide against each other in erotic heat. You could feel every inch of him either against you or inside of you. And that thought made you come again. This time the scream was less muffled.

The feeling of you clenching around him again like a vice had Michael finally hitting his peak too, his face buried into the crook of your neck as he pumped you full of his cum. If you weren't so spent already, that would've made for three orgasms.

He bit down on the skin of your shoulder to prevent any noises coming out too loud, but he couldn't mask all of them. He twitched inside of you as he gave a few last lazy bucks of his hips before he pulled out completely, standing up and looking down at you.

You really wondered how good his vision must be in this light for him to be able to see you. Or maybe he couldn't. Maybe he was faking it.

Either way you didn't care, too exhausted suddenly to really think about it. You began to drift to sleep, desperately trying to keep your eyes open to see what he'd do next. You vaguely remembered seeing him get dressed again. But you don't remember him leaving. Or moving you to rest your head back on your pillow. Or him pulling your blankets over you again.

Maybe he didn't do any of that. Maybe you did in your sleepy state.

It didn't matter. He was still gone before you even had the chance to register what happened.

But you were pleased when the next night, you glanced out of your kitchen window and found him stood there as usual, watching you. From now on, you were just going to leave your door unlocked to make it easier for him.

A/N: To celebrate my Halloween, I watched Halloween (1978) home alone whilst my housemates all went to a party. It inspired me to write this.

#michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #halloween #halloween 1978 #slashers #slasher #michael myers fic #michael myers fanfiction #michael myers smut #slasher fic #slasher x reading #slasher x you #ej’s fics #ej’s writing #deakyjoe’s fics #deakyjoe’s writing

[avocad1s]

Pen and Paper

Requested By: Multiple anonymous users.

CW: Slightly suggestive. It mentions authors writing nsfw fanfic

Note: You all are crazy 💀 I got like seven requests for a part two ever since I posted about character’s writing fanfic about the creator. Most of them were the same so I decided to combine them.

Based off this post, but can be read as a standalone post

As established in the first part, people enjoy reading fanfics about you. However what we didn’t talk about are the authors of these books.

I think you already know but there are three known authors who write books about you, Yae Miko, Xingqiu, and Albedo.

All of them have their own way of making their writings unique.

Xingqiu writes platonic Creator fan-fiction, some people want to imagine you as their best friend or even as their parent. Having a familial connection to you is what some readers strive to have.

Albedo is the only one including art in his books, kinda like the pov fanarts you’ll see. Only problem with this is Albedo doesn’t make many copies of his books so getting your hand on one is a feat in itself. They go for lots of mora, very few people can afford it and they people who can, hoard them. (Ehem, Ninnguang, Ayato and Pantalone 💀)

Yae runs a publishing house and is the editor for many people’s work. So if anyone has an original idea for a story, it would be her. She is also the one everyone sends their work to so it can be published.

The Archons are a different case. They don’t have to read self-insert stories about you because there are definitely people writing Creator x Archon stories. Some of them are horribly out of character since not many people have interacted with their Archon and only have other writings to go off of. But that doesn’t stop them from getting the books. Ei, Zhongli, and Venti like reading romantic books about you. Nahida doesn’t read fanfics about you often, but when she wants to know more about human nature, she’ll read some about you being her parent.

Now onto what everyone requested. You reading these fanfics.

Like I mention before, once you arrive to Teyvat there not going to try and hide these fanfics from you. They just doesn’t expect you to see them.

But you do. In fact, you read them.

To make matters worse you read them in public. Out loud.

Once the acolytes notice what you’re reading out loud they’re mortified. We’re you punishing them? Or do you find humor in reading these? Many characters are ready to get on their knees and apologize for reading these books, they don’t want you to be disgusted with them or get on your bad side. They’d be so sad!

If the authors of these books caught wind that you’ve read their books, they’ll be slightly embarrassed as well. It feels sacrilegious to think of you in such a manner but can you really blame them?

If you ask them to stop writing, they’ll stop publishing the fanfics… what you don’t know won’t hurt you :)

If you don’t care or even encourage it, then many more people will begin writing fanfics. Mostly with the hopes that you’ll read it. Perhaps if they pour their feelings onto paper you’ll notice how they feel for you?

Albedo would ask if you would model for one of his books. He’s drawn you multiple times but if you’re right in front of him, he knows he can make it more accurate. (Please let him, he’s begging with his eyes)

-

Slight nsfw behind this point, if that’s not your cup of tea, you may take your leave.

-

Of course if fanfics exist, so does nsfw fanfics.

You know how in the bookstores they have adult books wrapped in plastic? Yeah, the nations would also put their own barrier so the wrong audience don’t end up grabbing it.

These are the books they do not want you finding. Just imagine the look on their faces if they see you with one of those books.

Before you descended finding these books were almost impossible, many people weren’t sure what you looked like. All they had were scriptures of what your heavenly form looked like and ancient drawings of you that was hard to get your hands on unless you had some kind of power in the nations.

However once they get to see you with their own eyes…

Yeah they’re horknee 💀🙏

Having you in such a provocative way is something for their wildest imagination, so they will use these books to fill that void.

Dom Creator, Sub Creator… you name it. You can find it.

These books cannot be checked out at any library. No one wants a sticky book returned, have some mercy on your librarian.

I apologize for that sentence above 😭

Anyways, could you imagine finding your favorite of age character reading one of these books? They’ll try to quickly hide it a dark blush on their face as they apologize to you for reading such content.

But what makes them blush even darker is when you offer to recreate whatever they’re reading in real life. They’re stuttering and their bodies are trembling, but they aren’t going to deny such an offer from their dearest Creator.

© avocad1s 2023

#genshin cult au #sagau #genshin cult #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau x reader

[rainydayathogwarts]

Curtain call - Spencer Reid

Summary: You're an actress. Opening night of the show, a cast member is killed. FBI finds out you were the real target... Warnings: mentions of blood, a kiss 2k wc

Adrenaline rushes through you as you run through the wings, catching your breath as you made your way across the backstage. You had just about a minute until you had to be on stage once more, the big number now coming to its end. Rushing into the costume room, you barely acknowledge the one thing obviously wrong with the messy space until you reach for your next costume on the rack, moving all other clothes aside to find it. There’s something inappropriate about your outfit. One, there isn’t supposed to be any blood on it yet there it is, a bloody handprint, running all the way to the bottom of your dress. That’s when your eyes trail down to the bottom of the clothing rack, where you get a clear look of the body lying underneath the row of clothes. Blood was soaking through her entire costume and her skin was turning blue. It’s only when someone runs into the changing room at risk of missing your cue that you hear a gut-wrenching scream. Later, you’d be told that it had come from you. 

Being called into the theatre the next day for “mandatory debriefing” was not what you had expected after such a traumatic experience, but you came in nonetheless, afraid of losing the job after the scene you had caused the night before. After screaming bloody-murder, half the cast ran into the changing rooms to find you hysterically crying over your cast mate’s body, holding her cold hand. The audience had been scared half to death, and after the authorities made it onto the scene, everyone was evacuated out of the theatre. By finding her body, you had cost everyone a night of the show. 

But once you got to the theatre, angry yellow tape cutting off access to the public, you were approached by a handsome man with a serious face and confident posture, offering you his hand even as he walked towards you. “Miss L/N? It’s nice to meet you, I’m Agent Morgan with the FBI, and this is Dr. Reid. We just have a few questions we would like you to answer for us.” Agent Morgan had been a very kind man, who told you every formality that was written in the book, however the man he had introduced to you as Dr. Reid caught your attention in a way you weren’t aware would be good or bad. Dr. Reid stayed silent as Agent Morgan questioned you, deeply staring at you as you answered all that was thrown at you, shooting you quizzical looks every now and then and glancing down at your fidgety hands. 

“Thank you so much for all this Miss L/N, that’s all our questions.” As Agent Morgan began to stand, Dr. Reid looked up at you, “Actually, I do have a few more if you don’t mind.” Agent Morgan shot his partner a confused look, slowly backing down into his seat once more. “Do you know why Evelyn was in the costume room when she was? With my limited understanding of the play, I was under the impression that her character didn’t have any costume changes up to the point you had gotten to before she was killed.” And then those that followed:

“Was anyone other than you supposed to be in the changing rooms at that moment?”

“Is there anyone in the cast who has taken a specific liking or dislike towards you?” 

“Can you remember any specific encounters with anyone as you were going in or out of the theatre?”

“Have you received any eye catching letters from fans recently?” 

Finally, Dr. Reid’s prying had gotten you somewhere, leaving you more terrified than ever, with Agent Morgan reassuring you “It’s just a theory that Dr. Reid has, so we’re only taking precaution. There’s nothing to worry about just yet.” The two agents drove you back to your place where you led them to the cursed fan-letter drawer in your study. "I don't usually read them because there are so many." You admitted, crossing your arms tightly over your torso, observing as the doctor starting frantically pulling letters out of the tidied drawer, eyes briefly scanning the name on the front of each envelope. He threw several to the side, dropping the rest onto the floor after reading the name until nearly ten minutes later, all the letters laid on the floor.

Dr. Reid scrambled to gather the letters he had tossed to the side, standing up hurriedly. You stared at the pile in his hands, glancing back up at the two men for an explanation. "These are all sent from the same person. I'd like to read them and see if I can analyse the language used. I think one of us should stay here with you for the mean time." You nodded at Dr. Reid's words, briefly looking over to his partner for confirmation. "I think Reid should stay here as he looks over the letters." He moved his attention from you to Dr. Reid "You can ask her any questions you might have and it'll be good protection." The partners nodded to each other and almost instantly, Agent Morgan exited the room.

Dr. Reid's hand came up before hesitantly placing it on your shoulder. "Do you mind if I get settled here? Ask some questions?" You shook your head silently before asking "Um, since you'll be here awhile, can I get you something? Coffee?" Dr. Reid nodded, muttering a quiet "That would be lovely." You don't know what it was: maybe the fact that he was here to protect to or trying to save your life, but felt your heart beat in your chest aggressively, as though trying to break through your skin. You brought him coffee, sugar and packets of cream on the side just in case and watched in awe as he emptied out the small cup of sugar. Sweet, just like him.

"Dr. Reid-" "Spencer. Please." You nodded, scooting your chair closer to him as he took a sip of coffee. "Did I make a mistake by not reading these?" The envelopes made loud unfolding noises every time he pulled a letter out of a different one, and he shook his head. "No. I know I wouldn't open so many of these and I have an IQ of 187." You grinned, your chest bubbling with a giggle. Spencer perked up at the sound of your laughter, smiling gently at you. He wasn't trying to joke around, but he was happy to uplift your mood. He studied all the letters laid out in front of him, and immediately noticed a pattern.

'02.02.18, I saw you in Oliver! today, you make an amazing Nancy.'

'14.02.18, I watched you in Oliver! again. You somehow get better the more I see you on stage.'

'07.03.18 I loved you today in the show. I watched the evening show. Did you see me too?'

'17.03.18 I saw your show again. I can be your Bill Sykes if you'd let me."

'11.04.18 I've been waiting anxiously to see you again since Oliver stopped touring. You make a wonderful Veronica.'

'15.04.18 We can be Seventeen together! Let me be your JD.'

"This isn't good." Without any further explanation, he pulled his phone out, dialling a number. "He's using obsessive language and saw her in Oliver! and Heathers, both of which have abusive partners who either kill or try to kill who Y/N's playing. You need to go visit his address right now." Coincidentally, just as he hangs up the phone, your doorbell rings. Your blood runs cold and you stand up instantly, but Spencer steps in front of you, blocking you from going anywhere. "Stay behind me, but stay close." He mutters, pulling his gun from his hostler. Spencer watches you closely, and the profiler in him notices how your breath begins to speed up and your eyes glaze with tears.

One of his hands comes up to cup your cheek and he whispers "Breathe. I'm right here so no one's going to hurt you, okay?" You nod, staying as close as you can to him without touching him until you get to the front door. He peeks through the peephole and his shoulders drop as an "Oh." Escapes him. He opens and closes the door faster than you can register, now holding another letter in his hand, identical to all the ones scattered on your desk.

Six words are written on the letter when Spencer opens him, and his face pales. It was meant to be you. Spencer grabs your hand, dragging you back into your study - the one room in your house with no windows. He locks the door, pressing numbers on his phone again before it's against his ear. "It's definitely him, he just sent another letter. We're in her study but he might be around the premises or returning to his house. I don't plan on getting her out of the study until you get him." The second the words leave his mouth you're processing them, and tears are welling in your eyes once more.

The sound of sniffling gets his attention back to you and his hands are gently coming up to your shoulders, leading you to sit down in a chair. "I'm scared." You whisper helplessly, looking up at the doctor. He crouches down to your level, and hand on your knee. "Hey, what did I say before?" He looks at you intently waiting for an answer. "No one's gonna hurt me." Spencer nods, a soft smile gracing his features. "Yes, exactly. No one's going to hurt you. I have an excellent team looking for that son of a bitch as we speak and I am right here with you."

You nod, not entirely convinced, which he can apparently tell, so he continues with "Come on, look at these muscles. You think anyone will get to you when I have these babies?" His tongue pokes out slightly as he flexes his arms, which are actually more toned than you realise. You laugh again and feel yourself launching your body at him before you can stop yourself, pulling him into a tight hug. He hesitates, but eventually, his arms are pulling you even closer to him, one hand rubbing circles on your back to soothe you. You break the hug, but before you can help yourself, you realise you're leaning into him, pressing your lips against his in a passionate kiss. To your surprise he immediately returns the kiss, his hands cupping your face as he deepens the kiss.

He's panting when he pulls away from you, whispering "This is unprofessional. I'm sorry, I like you, I do, but I shouldn't." Cocking your head to the side, you can't help but smile slightly. "It's only unprofessional for one of us so technically it's not unprofessional at all." His face twists in confusion as he tries processing your words. "That's not how it wo-mmph." the rest of his words are muffled by the second kiss you give him, which you feel him melting into as one of his hands comes to rest on your hip. "After- after the case. After the case, I'll take you on a date." His face falls at his own words, his face reddening in embarrassment. "That is- I mean that's only if you want. I wouldn't take you on a date if you didn't want to, that's totally fine."

The door to the study slams open just as he finishes rambling and you scream in fear, tightly gripping Spencer's hand and turning around expecting to find a middle aged balding creep, only to find a much sexier bald man, putting his gun back in his hostler. "Did you not hear us screaming for you? We thought he might have gotten to you before we found him. Ms. L/N, you're safe, we found him." Agent Morgan's gaze slowly trails to where your hand tightly grips Spencer's, and when he sees the flush on Spencer's face he makes a "Huh" noise, before walking out of the room once more.

taglist: @ineedtosusoutmyreadinglist

#spencer reid x you #rainydayathogwarts #spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer x reader #criminal minds fanfic #criminalminds #criminal minds fics #criminal minds fic #criminal minds #derek morgan

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Rainy Season - Part 7

Final Chapter and Epilogue

Everybody’s Got Somebody but Me

Azriel Eris x Reader

Azriel pleads his case to his mate before the Inner Circle, an unexpected interruption sheds additional light on the situation, Y/N makes a decision.

Part 5 Part 6

Warnings: Language

The room thrummed with erratic energy as everyone awaited the arrival of the Shadowsinger. Eris watched intently as Y/N kept a collected facade before the present group, but behind her eyes a tumultuous storm raged. She hadn’t seen her mate since she’d left - since he’d betrayed her - and maybe she was a coward for facing him before an audience of his loved ones but she was done tip-toeing the line, done praying that the words falling from her mate’s lips were truth when he’d done nothing but spin ugly lies from that beautiful mouth. She wanted the real story, the whole story, and Truth Teller itself couldn’t extract it better than the audience before them.

Her gut-wrenched with his nearing presence, the doors would open any moment as guards would bring him in, before her, before his family, before Eris and her sister.

The only missing parties in the space were Amren who had stayed behind in Velaris to keep a presence in place and Nesta who had other matters to attend to. Mor’s attendance was welcome but not required, given the obvious histories between she and Eris - her mate.

Eris kept an amused facade beneath his own surface, though he was anything but. Y/N looked resplendent seated at the lone chair at the head of his table. Seated to her right, he kept a respectful distance, fighting the overwhelming urge to reach out and warm her shaking hand under the table.

And Eris couldn’t be certain by the flat expression on his face, but he could have sworn the slightest gleam of amusement glimmered in Lucien’s eye as the mechanical one focused in on a clearly unimpressed Camila who was unabashedly taking stock of the middle Archeron sister at his side.

The door unlatched, all traces of civility falling from Rhys’ face as Azriel stepped into the now darkened room.

Azriel looked terrible, the purple bruises and dark circles under his eyes draining the remaining life from his sallowed skin, eyes red and puffy.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat, burying down the instinct doing its damndest to get her to run to her dejected mate.

Azriel looked straight past every single person at the table, not even sparing a glance to the seething High Lord staring daggers in his direction. His hazel eyes blew wide as they honed in on his mate. His perfect fucking mate. He truly had drained so much from her, hadn’t he? Never once stopping to notice the signs.

Now, before him was a divine female - full in all the places he’d once gripped so fervently, her complexion radiant, hair lustrous, lips so delectable he wanted to bite them. There was no broken female here, this was a female who has been living a life of love and joy. The only thing missing was her bright smile, now absent in his presence.

Another thing he’d taken from her.

“Y/N”, Azriel mouthed, no sound coming out as the guards kept the cuffed hands he tried to outstretch in her direction restrained.

Her pointed silence and the clunk of the guards boots filled the room as Azriel was lead toward his space between Cassian and Rhys at the table. Y/N now noting the correlation between the bruises on Azriel’s face and a few scattered on Cassian’s.

Rhys’ voice entered her mind. “Azriel started a fight with Cassian that led to us finding out about he and Elain. When Cassian realized, he went feral on him. It’s been centuries since I’ve seen those two fight like that. By the time Cassian was done with him, I couldn’t in good conscience lay a hand on him.”

“They shouldn’t have fought over this. But I bet you not laying a hand on him though he knew you wanted to hurt his ego more than any punches would have.”

Feyre joined in the mental conversation, adding “He’s just lucky Nesta wasn’t there when they found out.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, assuming that Nesta would have remained neutral in the ordeal. Not out of cruelty, but given her love and protective tendencies toward Elain as well as her friendship with Azriel and their Valkyrie training.

Azriel looked to his mate, once again wordlessly mouthing. “Y/N, please.” Finally taking in the crowd before him, he paled further.

“Cat got your tongue, Shadowsinger?” Eris mused. Fury lined Azriel’s features at the smug tone. Rhys only let out a bitter chuckle though he found nothing funny about the predicament they’d found themselves in, his violet gaze narrowed in on his brother. “You found a work around with our bargain by finding your mate outside of the Summer Court, but couldn’t find a work around on the matter of being barred from communicating with her? Just how did you expect this whole plan to work out?” He didn’t wait for a response to the question as he waved to the bargain tattoo. “I rescind the bargain tattoo, you may speak to her for as long as she’ll allow it.”

Azriel paid no mind to Rhys, his chest heaved as he frantically spouted out, “Can we speak in private, my love? Just you and me.”

Eris bristled internally at the pet name but Y/N didn’t falter as she replied “You lost the right to call me that the moment you took another female to bed.”

Elain fidgeted in her seat, eyes downcast. Camila bouncing her murderous gaze back and forth between she and Azriel.

To his credit, Azriel took the blow. This was a bed of his own making and he knew it, they all knew it. There was no sense in trying to deny it.

His mate’s head remained held high as she continued, “By the grace of the High Lord of the Autumn Court, the consequences of your attempted infiltration of this keep have been resigned to your own High Lord.“

Shame flooded Azriel’s face but he let her continue.

“As for me? All I ever wanted was your love and commitment. I gave so many chances and when it finally seemed like you might get it - you’d squandered that opportunity as well. I am before you right now because I want to know why. And because you have not given me a reason to trust you, I have brought this council of individuals who have somehow found themselves so intertwined with our relationship when it should have only been you and me.”

Azriel spat the bitter words before he could stop them from leaving his mouth. “If Eris is not issuing consequence, there is no need for him to be here.”

Despite his exceptional ability to bait, Eris remained silent. A show of respect to the female at the head of his table.

“I was a guest in his keep when you decided to make our separation everybody’s problem and breached the wards.”

Azriel, damn him, couldn’t stop the next hateful words either. “I hardly call emissary business the equivalent of being a guest.”

Eris forwent anger over the blatant disrespect already rolling off of Azriel’s tongue when she didn’t owe him a second of her time, he knew this force of a female by his side well enough by now - biting the inside of his lip to hold back the involuntary smirk creeping its way up to the corners of his mouth as he sensed the words before she spoke them.

“You’re right, Azriel. But I am not here on emissary business, I am here as a personal guest of Eris, who has found himself intertwined in this relationship.” She then looked to her sister “Along with Camila, as they BOTH found themselves putting in considerable time and effort helping piece back together the parts of me that I couldn’t quite place myself. Do you have further question on the members in attendance today that you’d like for me to elaborate on?”

Camila, seated to the other side of Y/N, gave her sister a reassuring squeeze of the hand under the table. Silence once again filling the room, Azriel’s shadows in conjunction with Rhys’ raging darkness rendered him barely visible.

Perhaps her words to her mate were harsh but they were far kinder than the venomous “I’m here on the business of fucking the brains out of the Autumn Court High Lord who, by the way, is just as well endowed and far more bendy than you.” that she wanted to spit back at him.

As if Eris read her thoughts, he loosened the reign on that wicked smirk he’d held back.

“Now that the matter of why we’re all here is settled,” Y/N continued, “I will hear you out, Azriel. If at any point I do not wish to continue this discussion, you will leave immediately. Do you understand?”

Her stoic mate, the revered Spymaster, simpered at the words, giving a slight nod. “Yes.” Eris thought to himself in that moment, heart filled with pride, “She would make a fine High Lady.”

“Great. We have a bargain.” Her fist clenching as the tattoo formed on the back of her neck. “Please proceed.”

Azriel stood, looking to his mate. Crestfallen he began. He held himself in submission to his mate but with enough confidence for her to see that he was sincere in whatever he was about to say.

“Y/N. I love you. I have loved you since before the bond ever snapped. You are - You’re everything. Fuck, I know that what I did was terrible but, it’s not what it seems. You were so good, too good, I didn’t deserve you. I never have. You are everything good and I do nothing but bring pain and hurt to others, and now I’ve done the same to you. Words can never express how sorry I am but… I can at least share what happened.”

He looked to her, praying she’d speak, give any encouragement. Her bright eyes only stared through him, straight into the tattered soul he’d tried so hard to conceal from her.

The table remained silent. Camila biting back a scoff and Elain fidgeting with her dress.

Realizing she wouldn’t speak until he’d told her everything he continued.

He began speaking of how insignificant he’d felt in comparison to her. How he’d buried himself in work, in training with the Valkyries, helping Elain recover. He then pleaded to her, giving recollection of how he’d stopped feeling her through the bond. Giving account for everything leading up to the night he’d slept with Elain.

He recounted how he’d just wanted to get through the night, how he’d chosen to go to dinner instead of staying in, drowning himself in alcohol in an effort to get through the night, how he’d planned to tell Elain that he could no longer spend so much time with her.

It was then that he turned a violent glare to Cassian. “Tell her. Tell her, Cassian.”

Cassian let out a sigh. “Y/N, I am so sorry for the mistake I made. Nes and I, we’d stopped into a new apothecary along the Sidra and found a unique new aphrodisiac. We’d done a parting shot with Azriel and Elain after everyone else had gone out and I -“ his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, “I accidentally gave the shots we’d mixed the powder into to Elain and Azriel instead of Nes and I. I had no clue until yesterday, we just assumed it was a faulty batch.”

Azriel’s shadows swirled with rage as he picked up where he’d left off. “I went to find Elain afterward, to break things off but the aphrodisiac hit so hard, so fast, and I was so terribly intoxicated. One moment I was trying to speak, the next she was kissing me.” He shook, choking on the next words. “The next morning, I knew I could either tell you, inflicting more pain upon you, or I could carry the pain myself and make sure it never happened again.”

Lucien gritted his teeth at the admission. He’d known they slept together, she’d come straight to him afterward. Choosing to make his best effort to do right by his mate, telling himself that what had happened evened out the playing field between them. Of course it hurt, and hell, he was livid. He found himself fond of the Shadowsinger’s mate, forming a comfortable acquaintanceship with her the few times they’d attended the same events with the Inner Circle. She deserved so much more than a mate that cheated on her.

But Elain was his mate, he needed to at least try with her now that she’d finally shown up. He swallowed the bile that rose in his throat and had spent the past six months spending what time she deigned to give him with her. He’d hoped at the very least it would keep Azriel away from Elain and with his own mate. He’d felt awful when he heard she’d left.

He was drawn from his thoughts by Azriel’s next words and the corresponding pained gasp from Elain, and the thrumming power of Feyre as she seethed from both embarrassment of the ordeal and the careless words about her sister. “Y/N, Elain means nothing to me. She was a mistake. I don’t care about her beyond the fact that she’s my High Lady’s sister, I don’t love her - I only love you. I only want you. She is nothing.”

Elain clutched her chest, eyes welling with tears as she let out a whisper that may as well have been a damning scream. “But - you’re my mate.”

Time stood still as everyone turned to her in shock. Everyone, except for Rhys whose raging power dimmed momentarily, heads turned from Elain toward him as he let out an incredulous laugh. “You idiot.” Feyre turned toward him. He’d pay for that comment later, though only mildly as she was inclined to think the same of her sister. “That aphrodisiac that you were given, it is designed to imitate the mating frenzy. He’s not your mate, you were just horny.”

Elain turned ghostly, sinking in her chair at the revelation. Y/N felt sympathy for Lucien as she noted his gritted teeth. Apparently whatever she’d told Lucien, she’d left out the important detail that she thought she had another mate.

Camila’s body shook, fighting back laughter, and failing. Her laughter filled the space. “Oh my gods!” She wiped a tear from her eye. “I don’t mean to… but this, this is too good.” Her laughter only increased. “How humiliating!”

Even Y/N bit back a smile. Camila never was good at hiding her emotions, laughing in the most unstable of circumstances. And she couldn’t stop. Finally she placed her palms on the table pushing herself up. “I’m so sorry. I’ll excuse myself.” Lucien was next to stand, Elain tightly grasping his wrist. “Lucien” she whispered.

It was Lucien’s turn to let out a small laugh. “I suddenly find that I am not at all intertwined with this mess. Enjoy your mate!” He mused, a saccharine smile forming on his face as he pulled his arm away, catching up to Camila. His footsteps and the distant sound of “My lady” as he extended an arm to her, which she gladly accepted.

Elain stood eyes darting between Azriel and the door. Taking far too long to come to the decision to chase after her actual mate. Her foot moved out, pivoting her toward the doors when Rhysand commanded, “Oh no, you will stay here and finish this discussion.” She gasped looking to Feyre who only gave a solemn nod of solidarity with her mate.

Elain fell back into her seat, crossing her arms across her chest, glaring daggers at Azriel.

As the room once again settled, aside from the roaring heartbeats at the table, Y/N spoke impassively, “If there’s anything else you wish to say, now would be the time, Azriel.”

He stared wide eyed, clearly still blown away by the bullshit with Elain.

“Y/N, I am so sorry. I know that what I did was wrong. I never meant for any of this to happen. I never would have slept with her had it not been for the aphrodisiac. I never meant to hurt you. I have so much darkness within me to reckon with, so much that I’m terrified to bring up, so much I never wanted you to see. I need you to understand that. You were never the problem. It was me. It was always me. I can tell you how sorry I am, I can tell you how much I love you, but it won’t matter unless I can show you. Please give me that opportunity. I won’t let you down.”

Y/N sat still. Processing all of the details Azriel had given her. She felt his desperation barreling through the bond. Her hands again began shaking under the table without her sister there to steady them. Discreetly, Eris reached his hand to Y/N, the quivering receding at his warm touch.

Azriel’s shadows rose to whisper in his ear, his eyes instantly honing in on where their hands were joined, as if he could see right through the table.

And Y/N didn’t know if it was by a stroke of luck or the absolute lack of it but at that moment, the doors flung open and Nesta. Fucking. Archeron. stormed in.

“You.” She pointed to Azriel. One word. One action. So much damnation behind it.

Rhys’ darkness flared in the presence of his wild card sister-in-law. Cassian merely raised an eyebrow, the slightest upward curve tilting his lips as he took in his mate who could command a room full of power.

She looked over both High Lord’s at the table with an unimpressed sneer before turning that deadly, piercing gaze toward Azriel.

Azriel’s eyes widened in surprise at the Valkyrie striding toward him. “What. The. Fuck. Is. This?”

His brows knit and she opened her fist, grasping a chain with two of her fingers to display a dangling necklace.

Azriel’s face paled.

“You know, the strangest thing happened this afternoon. I was talking to my friend, Gwyn. We got to talking about flowers and Elain’s garden. Gwyn began speaking of how she loves roses, clutching at a lovely little pendant around her neck.”

“And I thought to myself, something about this necklace seems so familiar.”

“And then I recalled a solstice not too long ago where my sister came crying to me over a male who had given her a lovely necklace of the same description. How they’d pined for each other, never going further than a brush of the hands. Until the night they almost kissed, the scent of his arousal heavy in the air between them, then pulling back from her and stating ‘this is a mistake’ and leaving.

At the point Rhysand turned to his brother. “You’re fucking joking, Azriel.”

Y/N looked to them beginning to anticipate where this was going.

“When asked who gifted it to her, she stated that Clotho told her it was left for her from an anonymous admirer. So, I went to my friend Clotho, who keeps to her word very well. She’d sworn to the source she wouldn’t tell. But you know, the House of Wind is a sentient entity. Persistently tugging me toward Rhys’ belongings that remain scattered around the house.”

Nesta turned her glare from Azriel to Rhysand. “So, Rhysand, something tells me you know about this.”

Rhys lowered his head with shame hesitating as he searched for the right words.

“Y/N…. I’m so sorry. A couple of years ago, on Solstice, I caught Azriel placing a necklace on Elain.” He looked to Elain and then back at Azriel again. “I monitored the situation, hoping I was wrong, but as their lips were moments away from touching, I used my daemati abilities and summoned Azriel to my study. I truly thought whatever happened was over between them as the tension between the two seemingly faded in my presence. Until yesterday, when we found out about he and Elain sleeping together.”

Cassian glared to his brother with rage, “You gave a necklace meant for Elain to Gwyn?”

“She wasn’t supposed to know.”

Before he could dig the hole further, Elain whispered, those doe eyes peering at Azriel through her lashes, “So, you didn’t really think it was a mistake?”

Feyre broke her silence letting out an audible groan of exasperation. And Azriel broke his own silence,

“It WAS a mistake, Elain. All of it. Rhys tried to stop it. I should have listened. You were a mistake.”

Elain gasped, tears lining her eyes. And if looks could have killed, the glare Nesta gave Azriel would have ended him on the spot. But it was Elain who made the mistake of reading her sister’s rage toward Azriel as sympathy toward herself, leaning into her sister, turning her head into her side to catch her dramatized tears.

“No, Elain. I am so disappointed in you. You were completely wrecked when Graysen left you and you were only engaged. Imagine the pain Y/N felt losing her MATE.”

Eris who had been taking in the cluster fuck surrounding them mused, looking toward the door Lucien had earlier exited, “Oh, I don’t think she’ll have to imagine much.” Earning a laugh disguised as a cough from Cassian, another sigh from Feyre, and a scowl from Nesta as she chose to ignore the barb - looking again to Azriel, “You have a lot of amends to make.”

She looked to Elain, “You do too.”

With that she grabbed Elain by the arm and drug her out of the room. With a wave over her arm and a shout of, “You deserve so much better than what you’ve been through, Y/N!”

Y/N took a breath as the room regained its composure, the tension again thickening. “Is there anything else, or are you done making excuses, Azriel?”

“They’re not excuses. Y/N. I love you. I was wrong. It’s always been you.”

“I’m tired.” She spoke softly. And it was the truth.

“I spent so much time waiting for you. Praying that one day it would all become ‘right’ again. I dreamed that you’d come walking through the door, and remind me what it was like to feel your love. My Azriel, my mate, all I wanted was you.

But, this, Azriel. You are not the male I fell in love with. And I think… I think the most heartbreaking part of that is that what I loved most was those dark depths of your soul that you tried so hard to hide. You were never a monster, you were always worth loving. You wouldn’t have broken me. Shutting me out is what broke me. And I told you that, so many times, in so many ways. But you never listened.

And the reason you couldn’t feel me through the bond? The further you pulled away, the more I closed it off from my end. I hoped that it would give you time to work through whatever it was you were facing and refused to share despite my pleas. Until I eventually grew so numb that I just shut it down completely. A courtesy you never once extended to me during my time away. Do you know how hard it was to recover after I left? I felt your guilt and rage barreling through me at all hours.

And you fucking Elain? Nobody but you and Elain are responsible for your actions. Cassian is not your excuse. You chose to go that night, you chose to drink all evening, you chose to wait until that night to tell her you wouldn’t be spending time with her like you had been. You had the entire week away and chose to wait until the last minute.

The affair started long before then. I think we can agree that despite your cold treatment of her before me today, that you two were engaged in an emotional affair long before you ever went to bed with her.”

She reached into her pocket pulling out a piece of parchment.

“And then, you attempted to court Gwyn in my absence - which, fair, because I’m the one who left. She really is a lovely female. Although, I hear it didn’t quite work in your favor.”

Azriel’s eyes grew wide in panic. “The necklace didn’t-“

She laughed. “I’ll save you time and effort of your excuses, Azriel. Gwyn may not have known the necklace was from you but she did extend the courtesy of writing to me and I was rather surprised by the details of the demise of our relationship that didn’t quite line up - specifically the cheating aspect.”

She placed her hands on the table, looking her mate directly in the eyes. “I made my decision long before your attempt to break into this Keep, before the truths were unveiled today. I appreciate everyone for coming but I have heard enough. I ask that you leave now, Azriel.”

Tears filled his eyes. “Wait! Please, Y/N.” His brothers began to pull him away but Azriel fell to his knees.

“Please, baby.” He begged. “Just come home.”

She stared at the pleading male before her. A pang of sympathy for her broken mate ran through her. She wasn’t cruel and sympathy was not a weakness. This was her choice to make and nobody would blame her if she went back to her mate.

“Come home, please.”

Holding her head high, she stepped around her chair.

Eris sat expressionless, carefully avoiding any inclination of the devastation he’d feel if she chose to leave. He would support her either way.

Azriel remained focused on her every movement, his erratic breathing the only sound cutting through the tension of the room.

She took a step, and one more, before halting. Gently taking the hand of the red-headed male beside her whose eyes lined with silver as he looked up to her.

“I am home.”

EPILOGUE

The time he showed up:

Lucien suffered when his bond with Elain was severed. She did not agree to breaking the bond which left slim to no opportunity to move forward with the breaking of it. After months of intense research, Helion was able to find a tricky workaround that did not require both parties to be present. It was incredibly painful due to the negative effects being concentrated to one individual instead of split between two but fortunately not lethal.

Eris never pushed me to sever my bond with Azriel but as time went on it felt important to put that part of my life behind me. I’d extended the courtesy of writing to Azriel regarding my intention to sever it, informing him that I would be going through with the incantation that Helion had conjured. He did not reply but I knew he received the letter based on the muted feelings of grief that seeped through crevices of the walls I had placed against his end of the bond for several days afterward.

Eris traveled to the Day Court with me, having decided nobody could aid in my recovery better than he. To my shock, upon arriving, Azriel was there. Demurely, he stated that it was only right for him to share the weight of this burden. I was inclined to agree but only thanked him for showing up. He bristled at the sight of Eris but the males said nothing to eachother and we went our separate ways until Helion was ready for us. With Azriel’s presence and the pain being shared, the physical recovery on both of our ends was expedited and manageable for both of us.

We were both held in separate suites to recover until Helion gave the all-clear to leave. When the pain became less debilitating, I decided to take a stroll through an exterior walkway, soaking in the sun while Eris bathed. Apparently Azriel had the same idea as I turned a corner to find him sunning his wings, head hung low.

Right as I made to pivot, his head whipped in my direction, eyes locking with mine. Even without the bond I could easily read the pain in his eyes, the grief that surrounded him. His shadows fought to come to me but he kept a tight reign on them. His breathing was rapid, his eyes fighting to turn away but his gaze lingered.

He opened his mouth to speak, a weak sound escaping his lips before he clamped his mouth shut, jaw tensing.

I kept my gaze soft, maintaining eye contact for another moment but he didn’t try to speak again. With that, I walked away and we did not encounter eachother again during the stay.

It was later I realized that he likely wanted to say something, anything, but there was nothing left to speak between us.

The sister-in-law:

After recovering fully from the severance of his bond, Lucien cryptically invited Eris and I to a lakeside home in the Day Court.

“Dress for merriment.” His only details.

Upon arriving, we found a couple of beloved faces from my life, along with Feyre, Helion, The former lady of Autumn (now the lady of Day), Jurian, Vassa, and even Tamlin at the home. We were all escorted to the grounds where an absolutely beaming Lucien stood at an altar beside the most radiant female I’d ever seen.

That was the day my sister became also my sister-in-law. It’s a very strange thing to say aloud but makes sense if you think about it.

The first heir:

Eris cried the day our son was born. Not from the relief of having an heir, not from any upset due to the child being male, certainly not from any disappointment of being a father.

The birth was as smooth as one can be, he held my hand throughout, praising me, and whispering words of love. He didn’t even mind the curses I threw his way as I pushed. He only let go of my hand once the babe was carefully handed to me by the midwife, allowing me those first precious moments to cradle our little flame to my chest and relish in the life our love had created.

Eris cried when that tiny babe was finally passed into his arms and the little red-haired beauty grasped his finger. That touch immediately tethering a connection straight from the child in his arms delicate soul to Eris’ heart, the heart that once beat beneath layers of armor now laid bare before his son.

Never would this child know pain at his fathers hand. Never would he limit the love he could show for fear of being seen as weak. And never, ever would he question his fathers love for him.

The coronation

Azriel

Sitting here lonely at a table for two, watching lovers being lovers

Azriel sat shrouded in shadow in a quiet corner of the decorated throne room. Happy chatter rang throughout the room as attendees anxiously awaited the crowning of the High Lady of the Autumn Court.

Feyre and Rhys; Cassian and Nesta; Helion and the former Lady of Autumn; Emerie and Mor; Tamlin and his new wife, Briar; Lucien and Camila; and even Gwyn and Tarquin sat cozied up in pairs throughout the crowded throne room. Nyx had seated himself next to his best friend Alex, Camila and Lucien’s son.

From what Azriel had heard Lucien treated Alex as his own from the moment he met him, adopting the boy immediately after he and Camila married. He seemed to be a fine young man and a positive influence on Nyx, who kept Rhys and Feyre on their toes these days. Perhaps karmic justice for the hell Rhys, Azriel, and Cassian put Rhys’ mother through in their youth.

Three little girls ran through the room, two with vibrant red-hair, tan skin and freckled golden cheeks; one with dark hair, fair skin, and her mothers eyes; their giggling rang out above the chatter filling the room as an older child, a boy of eleven years old - Azriel still remembered the day the announcement arrived to the Night Court of the birth of the first Autumn Court heir - walked in a straight backed, lordly posturing behind them, a crease forming between his brows as he focused intently on his little sisters.

The boys long strides kept up with his little sisters as he reminded them to mind their paces. Lost in their merriment, the girls ignored his warnings until the boy finally let out an exasperated sigh. Stopping for a moment with his arms crossed, he raised a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose as he shook his head, murmuring gods knows what frustrated curses. Knowing his mother, it was not the typical frustrated language of a child.

Azriel gave a small, sad smile at the memories elicited.

When the boy looked up, the girls had disappeared from his sight. He grew frantic for a moment until his Uncle Lucien walked up to him, pointing to his wife and the three girls pressing kisses and talking animatedly to her round, very pregnant belly. The boy gave his uncle a smile, shoulders sagging in relief. Lucien bowed down, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. The boy took his hand and walked back toward Camila and the sisters.

Azriel placed a hand to his chest at the wave of grief that rang through him. The mating bond may have been severed but he never could get over the love that he squandered. The family that could have been his.

“You don’t have to be here, brother.” Rhysand’s voice invaded his mind.

Azriel swallowed, willing his thoughts to a tone of neutrality. “She’s the High Lady of the Autumn Court, we’re immortal, we will have to be comfortable in spaces together. It comes with the territory.”

I miss you. Without you I just don’t fit in.

He didn’t have to say what his brother already knew. That yes, he was broken when she left. Broken further when she confirmed he was no longer her home. He’d hated himself for what he’d done, for what he put her through. For a long time, he’d been a shell of the shell of himself that he’d already become. Eventually, he’d taken to seeing one of the counselors in the House of Wind’s library. He was too far gone at that point to consider such an option but Rhys had coordinated with the priestesses and mandated it. Either he got help or lost his position in the Night Court.

Even after the countless hours of counseling sessions he’d attended over the years, that “savior complex” of his remained. Seeing Y/N thriving with someone else was fucking hard but not as hard as living in a world where he never looked upon her face again. As she assumed the title of High Lady, a target would lay on her back, just as one was on any other High Lord or High Lady’s back. He’d never forgive himself if his stubborn pride kept him from attending any court events she attended and something happened to his own High Lord or Lady… or if something happened to her.

I don’t know if I’ll ever find another you.

So here he was, alone at a table, in a now quiet throne room, watching the love of his life step out onto the dais in all of her resplendent glory, kneeling down before the male she loved. Eris’ eyes lined with silver as her own lifted to meet his gaze, her chin held high as she awaited his next move. Carefully, he lifted the emerald and ruby crested crown, with one large diamond centered between two golden leaves, off of the plush pillow it sat upon. Eris’ previous words rang true through Azriel’s head “Diamonds don’t crush under pressure.” The people of this court were truly fortunate to be under the rule of such a resilient and kind ruler. The shining diamond of Autumn. She would love them deeply and do right by them in a way so few leaders were capable of.

Azriel couldn’t contain the pride that welled up in his chest, tears threatening to spill over his thick lashes as the crown was placed upon her head. And yet it was Eris who looked at her like she was the very air that he breathed, as if nothing existed in that moment but the female at his fingertips, like the only reason he himself was brought into existence was to find and cherish her for eternity. And despite his disdain for Eris Vanserra, Azriel finally understood that this was where she belonged.

Everybody’s got somebody but me.

————————————-

A/N: Thank you to everyone who has read this series! I loved writing it and I hope you are pleased with the ending. Some may ask, “What about Elain?” and to that I say, “What about her?” I find great satisfaction in the fact that she didn’t get either male, was embarrassed in front of the IC, and became so irrelevant that she was barely mentioned in the epilogue (aside from Lucien breaking the bond). Clearly, she’s still bitter considering she refused to sever the bond with him but he still found a way out (albeit painfully) and got his dream girl! Stay mad, Elain.

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[jinwoosungs]

{ 161 }

the dark knight.

jinwoo sung x fem.reader

you had just started out as a hunter when you were introduced to a tall man donned entirely in dark armor; a man who was shockingly hidden from within the depths of your shadow.

being labeled as an a-rank hunter, you had some skills, being highly proficient in using a weapon that you had spent most of your life perfecting, training with it ever since you first awakened as a hunter.

and by some miracle, you were accepted into an extremely well-known guild:

ahjin guild, ran by the famous sung jinwoo himself.

his story was nothing short of a miracle; a once weak, e-ranked hunter somehow managing to gain strength by unknown means, rising up the ranks with ease before quickly being labeled as the world's strongest hunter within what seemed like mere months.

unfortunately, you recall your own conference and introduction to the scene being lackluster in comparison, with your eyes remaining bright with hope as you spoke with some confidence during your interview. you promised your nation to use your strength as a sole means to protect those who could not defend themselves, earning a polite, round of applause from the audience.

you remember that day vividly, trailing your eyes across the crowd before your gaze landed on someone who stood out the most to you.

glowing, purple eyes were shining with amusement, and his applause actually seemed genuine the more he looked at you. even when you had caught him staring at you, he never once looked away from you.

and it was more than enough to make your whole body tremble with excitement in response.

shortly after your introduction, the chairman reached out to you, telling you that the president of ahjin guild wanted to speak to you, putting you directly in contact with jinwoo. the tall and handsome man then shook your hand while making you an offer you couldn't refuse.

"join my guild and you'll be paid handsomely."

the excitement that coursed through your veins was nearly indescribable, since you were so certain that you would be able to prove yourself to him; to gain some confidence as a hunter while joining jinwoo during these high level raids.

yet oddly enough-

this didn't seem to happen.

instead, you were often left at his office, working on sorting through applicants and reports for the guild while he went alone on such raids. when you asked the other members, jinho and soohyun, if this was normal, they would simply shrug and nod their head yes.

"yeah, i just help the prez look at the reports and stuff. haha, he lets me post on my insta account and has no issues with me lazing around sometimes."

"ah... the boss takes me with him on raids sometimes, but that's only to provide him with equipment. usually, boss doesn't even fight. he uses his shadow soldiers to do all the work during raids."

with both of their admissions swirling within your mind, you could feel your mounting fury growing from deep within you.

you did not become a hunter and join his guild to do mere office work.

you became a hunter to fight.

and you were finally going to do something about it.

your president was currently in his office, and when you looked into his office, you saw his grey eyes looking bored while pouring over some paperwork. with a click of your tongue, you enter his office, causing jinwoo to look up at you with a calm expression.

he says your name before looking back down at the paperwork. "hello, is there something that you need?"

red hot anger was still felt surging through your veins when you take quick strides toward him. you slam the palm of your hand against his stack of papers, preventing him from reading any further.

jinwoo meets your gaze with a raised eyebrow all while leaning back in his seat.

"you're upset."

"no shit, sherlock!" you hiss at him all while pointing an accusing finger at him, "when i first joined your guild three months ago, i had every intention of fighting by your side- not by being your secretary!"

his eyes begin to steadily glow purple again. "don't get too cocky. lately, there have been several a- to s-level gates appearing all across seoul. and you are certainly not ready to face them yet."

"w-what gives you the right to decide that for me! i have spent over 10 years training, being labeled as an a-rank! i can do these raids just fine!"

"you've had zero experience. you could get killed." jinwoo's voice was now filled with venom when he stands from his seat.

"i would have had some experience if you just let me join you on your raids!" you scoff at him, eyes practically shimmering in response to your anger. "and just why do you care if i get killed or not? if that happens, then at least i died for a good cause!"

suddenly, jinwoo's eyes flashed with an unknown emotion, the sensation being potent enough that he had to bite down on his bottom lip. you ignore the strange feeling of guilt that fills you, taking a step back, your voice shaky when you tell him.

"there's an a-rank gate that just appeared, and i'm going with or without you."

"don't you dare-"

jinwoo was about to stop you, but you were faster, flashing him your middle finger before taking advantage of your speed, running away from him and the rest of your guild. you ignore their cries of your name while following the coordinates on your phone to where the gate was.

within what felt like minutes, you arrive at the bright red gate, seeing several authorities push back the civilians that got too close to the gate. a determined expression paints your features as you duck beneath the yellow tape and step into the gate's periphery.

"halt, the members of the hunters guild has not arrived yet. i was given strict orders to not let any other hunters pass through-"

"i am a member of ahjin guild, and i was told by my president to start scoping out the gate. hunter sung says that he will be here shortly." you purposely lie through your teeth, watching with satisfaction when the man's eyes widen with response.

"you're a member of a-ahjin guild, with hunter sung's arrival being soon? then by all means, go on and enter! we're all counting on you!"

you adjust your hold on your weapon while giving him a nod, stepping through the red colored gate with your head held high.

the moment you went into the gate, you felt a little nauseous at the sensation of shifting into what felt like a different reality. surrounding you was a thick forest made even denser by the fog. had you have been a normal human, then there was no way your eyes could see through the fog-

you considered yourself lucky that you could make out the many beasts taking shape from within the fog, brandishing your weapon as you began to work, slashing through each monster that dared remain in your path.

your confidence was building; with each stroke of your weapon, you felt a strange sense of satisfaction as the monsters fell to their demise. the passing of time was unknown to you, yet you never once stopped your movements until you were certain that every monster had been defeated.

you stand amidst a pile of fallen bodies, the fog now clearing as your sight became even clearer in response. taking a step forward, your footsteps made a crunching sound against the ground when a sudden sensation of something powerful looming over you stops you in your tracks.

your breathing becomes labored when you felt an overwhelming presence behind you. you turn around slightly, only to let out a silent scream upon seeing a monstrous spider with venom dripping down its claws.

"shit!"

knowing that you couldn't properly defend yourself from its poison, you try to dash away from it-

but its gigantic form easily caught up with you, and you watch from your periphery as it raised its clawed legs toward you, slamming down on you with a slash! as it manages to pierce through your armor.

"UGH!" you let out a scream of pain, feeling the blood pouring from your wound as the poison spread through you, paralyzing you. you were filled with panic now, feeling your entire body go numb as you struggled to crawl away from the spider.

with each movement, you saw your shadow lengthen from behind you, the sight being so unexpected and strange that you stopped moving. your eyes remain rooted on your shadow, watching with wide eyes as what looked like a tall and muscular knight appear from your shadow's depths.

his glowing, purple eyes acknowledge you for a brief second before he takes a protective stance in front of you. your breathing comes out in labored gasps, watching as he brandishes two daggers before quickly gaining up on the poisonous spider.

the beast didn't stand a chance, for within seconds, the dark knight slashes through its body, seeming to make thousands upon thousands of cuts on its body. you could feel a deep breath escape from your lips in a labored manner as the beast falls, the putrid scent of its blood filling your nostrils, making you nearly gag in response.

as if sensing your distress, the knight that crawled out of your shadow faces you, taking quick strides towards you before placing your pliant form in his arms. as he held you, you became shocked at how solid he felt.

did all shadow soldiers feel this... real and alive?

unable to speak, you allow the shadowy knight to carry you back to safety, appearing within the forest's clearing as his raspy and deep voice spoke to you.

"unfortunately, the exit has closed. we will have to wait until it opens up once more. it may take a couple of hours."

he settles your body on the ground, reaching behind him to pull out a vial filled with a golden liquid. "drink this, it will get rid of the poison's effects."

the knight uncaps the vial for you, tilting the elixir into your parted lips as you swallowed the liquid, emptying the vial as the knight tosses it aside. within a few minutes, you felt the sensation return back to your extremities. testing out the movement on your arm and legs, you call out to the shadow soldier.

"did jinwoo set you up for this?"

he was silent for several seconds before letting out what sounded like a huff, "yes, you could say that."

"tch, why is your master such an asshole?"

the soldier seemed taken aback by your outburst. "a-an asshole? you view my liege in such a manner?"

you narrow your eyes a bit, noticing the slight break within his voice. thinking that it was nothing (for now), you sigh and shake your head, moving up your legs so that you could rest your chin against your kneecaps.

"what did jinwoo name you?"

the shadow soldier was quiet again, as if deep in thought before answering, "he did not give me a name, but many refer to me as 'the first.'"

you hum and look down at your torn armor. "do you respect jinwoo?"

"of course i do... do you?" first asks you in a seemingly nonchalant manner.

"begrudgingly yes." you admit to him with a pout, picking at the ends of your ruined armor. "i hate how cocky he is all the time... and how he's always right."

the last part comes off as a mere whisper, catching the dark knight's attention.

"you think he's always right? how so?"

you could feel the tears of frustration appear in your eyes, "it's just... i hated how jinwoo won't let me join him in his raids... i wanted to prove myself; to prove myself worthy of him."

"worthy?" your words seem to have piqued the knight's interest.

"yeah... i just really admire and respect him." you finally admit to the shadow soldier with your cheeks heating up in response. "i used his story as motivation for me to become brave and stronger, and i wanted so badly to fight by his side! but he never would let me..." you sigh and meet the knight's gaze, "you have no idea how happy i was when i was able to enter this gate and fight...!"

your body began to shake as you began to curl up in response to your admission, "but, i fell short. i couldn't take out the boss of this dungeon... and i got severely paralyzed because of it. jinwoo was right, i wasn't ready-"

"but you were brave and tenacious despite it all." the soldier interrupts you, preventing you from speaking ill of yourself any further.

you saw wisps of shadows appear from your periphery and a sharp hand gently framing at your face. your head was then gently tilted upwards as you were forced to meet first's gaze.

"i was wrong... you're strong enough to take on anything... and i shouldn't have held you back."

when cracks were seen in his dark armor, you felt your eyes go wide in response, the shadowy armor now disappearing as it revealed a familiar man to you.

"looks like i ran out of mana... i can't keep up this appearance anymore."

your throat turns dry, seeing jinwoo dressed only in his dress pants as his entire upper body remained bare. you kept on sputtering his name when his large hand frames at your face. jinwoo lets out gentle coos of your name, resting his forehead against yours while pressing a kiss against your skin.

"do you want to know why i was so eager to have you in my guild... and why i never let you do anything?"

feeling overwhelmed at his sudden transformation, you could only manage a nod in response.

jinwoo chuckles a bit, wrapping his arms around you as he brought you even closer to his chest. "the reasoning is simple, my dear, and it's solely because i wish to protect you while remaining close to you."

your breath hitches in response to his confession, causing you to meet his gaze once more, "y-you... you want to protect me?"

the s-ranked hunter's eyes began to glow a deeper shade of purple, seeming to shine with pure mirth before admitting to you, "of course i wish to protect you; i want to protect every single person that i love-"

"and that especially includes you."

your heart was suddenly felt racing within the confines of your chest, with you being held tightly within jinwoo's embrace with his lips hovering over your own.

"...may i?" his voice becomes uncharacteristically shy, and you manage to give him a shy nod before jinwoo dives in towards your lips, sealing it perfectly in a kiss that conveyed his love and devotion toward you.

and with his lips perfectly slotted against yours, you figured that there was no better way to pass the time than to share a million kisses with the man that you have always admired and adored.

a.n. - so re-reading solo leveling's later chapters, where he fights antares, i get so heated, remembering how hot he looked donned in armor made of complete and utter darkness, like dear god jinwoo, just take me- I AM YOURS! 😭

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

#sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #sung jinwoo x you #jinwoo sung x you #solo leveling x reader #solo leveling #sung jinwoo #jinwoo sung #.stories

[the-travelling-witch]

𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

summary: the human custom of sharing clothes had been an unfamiliar one for jade, but he has always been a quick study

pairing: jade leech x gn! reader (both have graduated nrc, but a lot of this is reliving school memories)

warnings: fluff, implied smaller reader; i think it made more sense in my head but have it anyway bc i never wanna shut up about him, please applaud my restraint to not name this ‘boyfriend material’

twisted wonderland masterlist

It was true that wearing clothes was a foreign feeling when Jade first came to the shore all those years ago. But he had come to like the human custom, no matter how tedious it might seem at times. Not only did he realise the way one dressed held a lot of power in the way one was perceived by others, it had also served him in making some fond memories.

The ones he remembered most vividly, however, were those which featured you at the centre of them. Through various means, like the course they had attended or familiarising himself with different types of media above sea level, Jade had learnt that sharing clothes was a thing done between close friends or romantic partners, often being hailed as a sweet gesture and being positively received by characters and audiences alike. So when you had caught the eel’s interest, he had decided to see what the fuss was all about.

Despite his tendency to curate situations which would bring about whatever outcome he desired, the first time the opportunity arose had been a happy coincidence. That day, it had started raining cats and dogs right as the bell signalling lunch break rang. Luckily, Jade’s last class of the morning had been in the building the cafeteria was in, so he could watch in amusement as students swarmed towards the building with various forms of rain repellent keeping them dry- or not.

You had been one of the poor, unfortunate souls who had left their umbrella at the dorm that day, a point made abundantly clear by the way you had sprinted with your PE uniform jacket held over your head in a feeble attempt of shielding yourself. By the time you had made it into the dry hallway, your jacket had been absolutely drenched, the rest of your clothes not faring much better. Witnessing your predicament and seeing a chance to put his theory to the test, Jade had slinked over to your side.

“Oya, if I had known you were this fond of water, I would have invited you to the Coral Sea before,” the eel had said, startling you with his sudden appearance. Your reaction had only served for the polite smile on his lips to grow a tad bit wider. “Yet, here I was under the impression humans don’t like getting their clothes wet. Perhaps I have been wrong?”

“You know well enough this wasn’t intentional, so drop the oblivious act, Jade,” you had sighed, rustling through your backpack for something and subsequently taking your eyes off him. “So what do you want? If you’re trying to rope me into a deal over a little bit of rain, I’ll have to disappoint–”

Something warm and dry had landed on your shoulders then, your gaze landing on the black fabric draped over your form first and wandering back to the tall student afterwards. With your mouth parted, opening and closing in the search of something to say, you had borne a strong resemblance to a fish out of water.  

“I heard humans get sick easily after walking in the rain,” Jade had mused, tugging at his vest and shirt to make sure they sat correctly without his blazer, “and we wouldn’t want that, would we?”

“What are you–” You had shaken your head, overcoming your initial confusion as you began shrugging the jacket back off your shoulders. At that point you had been sure he had some ulterior motive and you hadn’t felt like picking up any shifts at Mostro Lounge that week. “I can’t take this from you.”

“Oh, but you can,” he had insisted with a smile, a gloved hand landing on your shoulder to keep the clothing in place. “If you are worried about my health, I am most touched. However, us mers are used to the cold and therefore aren’t as prone to catching one.”

“That wasn’t really what I was concerned about,” you had mumbled, crossing your arms. “I’m more worried about whatever strings come attached with this thing.”

“You wound me. Do you really think I would abuse my fellow student’s misery for personal gain?” Despite his words, he had chuckled at your resolute ‘yes, you would’. The hand on your shoulder had pressed into your upper back then to bring you in closer in order to throw you off with the newfound proximity, disguised as shielding you from the throng of people heading to lunch. “If this is what stands in between you and caring for your health, how about this: In return for accepting my blazer, you accompany me to lunch? I’ll consider us even then, I promise.”

You had studied the vice housewarden more closely, yet, as usual, his expression did not give anything away. Just then a chilly breeze had blown through the corridor, making you tremble as you instinctively pulled the blazer tighter around your body. 

“Fine, I’ll accept,” you had relented through chattering teeth.

“Wonderful,” the eel had beamed down at you before guiding you forward, still with his fingers splayed over your upper spine. Students had parted like the sea when they had seen the second year approaching and it was a welcome change of pace from having to fight your way into a spot in the queue.

By the time you had found a table, you had slipped your arms through the sleeves of Jade’s jacket to better hold your tray. And when you rolled up the excess fabric to properly use your cutlery, Jade finally realised why lending someone your clothes was a popular trope in various media. 

To say the piece was ill-fitting was an obvious remark, with Jade easily being one of the tallest students around, you were practically drowning in his jacket. It had been eye-openingly endearing for him to say the least. And that was even without factoring in the expression on people’s faces when they realised whose clothes you had been wearing, the Octavinelle band around your left arm added to the context of the scene being a dead giveaway. Yes, as a born predator of the sea, a possessive side of him had revelled in the feeling of staking his claim over you in this way.

But he had shoved the notion down as you had asked him if he liked the food that day and how his morning had been. While he had been able to tell you were still a little wary, cautiously phrasing your responses at first, falling into a casual conversation with you was easy enough. When the anecdote of his brother doing something reckless again made you snort before laughing, he had filed it away as something he wanted to see and hear more of, especially when he was the cause for it.

Lunch had passed a little too fast for the moray’s liking but with one glance at his watch and then one at the still pouring rain, he had quickly devised a plan to monopolise your time to the fullest before returning to your classes.

“Allow me to walk you back to your dorm, so you can change before your next lesson,” Jade had smiled as he pulled out his umbrella, his arm hovering around your back as you had exited the cafeteria. “I assure you, this favour comes with no strings attached.”

Looking back at it years later, perhaps that last part had been a lie, though he was sure neither of you minded. Because after that rainy day, you had interacted more frequently with pleasantly changed feelings. 

On Jade’s side of things, he had been more fascinated with you and your reactions than ever and the image of you swaddled in his clothes had managed to stir these newfound emotions in him. You, on the other side, had started considering him as more than a devious loan eel and allowed the normally tightly locked thoughts and feelings for him to come out of their confinement little by little.

After playing cat and mouse for a while, you had taken all your courage, grabbed Jade by the collar and confessed, not able to withstand the tension and anticipation any longer.  Of course, he had reciprocated your feelings in teasing delight, which, as your relationship had become public, had easily catapulted you up the list of the school’s lunatics in the eyes of many. But you couldn’t have been happier and, the initial complexities of navigating a new relationship aside, Jade was a dream of a boyfriend if he wasn’t hellbent on prodding and poking you for his own amusement.

So it came as no surprise that, during your school years, you had spent a lot of time at each other’s dorms when Jade wasn’t dragging you up some mountain with him. At that point, you’d felt as comfortable in his room as in yours, even if half of it was shared with the sentient tornado that was Floyd, leaving one half to be pristine and the other opposingly messy. 

Jade fondly remembered the day you had come over to study for your upcoming potionology exam, your own dorm room too loud to concentrate and hoping to rope the merman into helping you with your prep questions, especially as his brother had been absent from their room that evening. While many regarded him as the sly and conniving one in the relationship, Jade had to admit you were very good at playing your cards right to where he found it increasingly hard to deny you. Perhaps this cheekiness was one of the things that drew him to you.

Considering you had given up on studying in your room pretty much immediately and had only grabbed your books before marching over to Octavinelle, you had still been in uniform when you joined him at his desk. Ever observant, Jade had quickly noticed the way you subconsciously pulled at the clothes or squirmed in your seat trying to get comfortable. 

So being the amazing and reliable boyfriend that he was, he had fished some comfortable loungewear out of his closet; he had initially bought it to round out his collection of essential clothing items, though frankly, he didn’t wear it much himself. With no plans to work at the Lounge that night, he had thought that it might be a good chance to give the comfy clothes another shot.

In retrospect, maybe he should thank your uncomfortable uniform. 

When you had both changed into the loungewear, he had not only been amused by the way the shirt, which was a regular fit for him, engulfed your upper body or how you had rolled up the ends of his sweatpants. With some playful huffs at his teasing, you had gone back to work until you had finished writing your study notes, at which point you had relocated to his bed, Jade joining you soon after.

Sitting side by side, your boyfriend had taken to quizzing you to see how much you had retained until he had felt your head drop against his shoulder, which was the first time he had taken note of how late it had gotten. For a few moments he had done nothing but study the way your chest rose and fell with deep breaths, your slightly parted lips inviting him to trace his thumb over the curve of them in featherlight reverence. To think that he of all morays would ever be treated to such a peaceful fragment of mundanity, it had made a warmth tug at his heart the same way the waves rolled over the shore in a calming rhythm, which persisted to this day.

It had pained him to wake you again, so could get ready for bed, persuading you sweetly into staying the night. Though he regretted neither getting to see your half asleep face while you had brushed your teeth, nor how he had been able to pull you close to him under the covers, curling his arms around you as his fingers had wandered over the warmth of your skin under his clothes. 

In the comfortable darkness of his room, you had exchanged hushed whispers and murmured confessions as you had settled in his embrace, lulled to sleep by the steady beating of his heart and the lips that  had spelled promises of safety and adoration against your skin. And for Jade, tugged deep into the crevice of his heart, there had formed the image of a future where this domesticity was normality. 

Years later, after graduation, Jade could proudly claim that this fantasy now lived at the forefront of his heart, that he could fall asleep and wake up to your body next to his, cradled by the allure of forever. After all, for no one but those closest to him would he be up with the rising sun to prepare breakfast, humming under his breath as he relived those memories. Though he considered all his efforts paid off when he heard you shuffle into the kitchen before two arms wrapped around his middle and your head leaned against his spine. 

“Good morning to you too, pearl,” Jade chuckled as finished plating the eggs on two plates, then knowingly slid a fresh cup of coffee within your reach. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did, until someone decided to just leave me all by my lonesome,” you grumbled, detaching yourself from him so you could lean against the counter and take a sip of coffee, prepared perfectly to your liking. “I like seeing my beautiful husband’s face first thing in the morning but alas…”

As you stepped into his field of vision, Jade noticed you had chosen not to wear a piece of clothing of yours, but had instead plucked his black dress shirt from the chair he had draped it over the day prior. His dress shirt and nothing else. While it was long enough on you to hide what was for his eyes only, it still showed off the beautiful curve of your legs, ending tantalisingly around your thighs. The few buttons you had closed still displayed the sharp contrast between your collarbones and the softness of the skin peeking through below. It would be all too easy to slip the garment from your shoulder…

“That does seem rather unfair,” Jade agreed as he stepped in front of you, hands ghosting along the expanse of your thighs to rest at your waist, the look in his eyes reminding you of his origins and sending shivers of excitement down your spine. “If you allow me, I have a few ideas in mind on how to make it up to you.”

Within the blink of an eye, his hands had steeled their grip around your waist and lifted you to sit on the counter as he took the opportunity to stand between your legs. Then, with a gentleness which did not match the show of strength, he carefully cupped the back of your head in his palm and connected your lips in a kiss as light and soft as the golden rays bathing your kitchen in light. Your own hands busied themselves with tousling his bed head once again, slowly sliding his black lock behind his left ear as you parted from one another, like a painter putting the finishing strokes on their magnum opus.

“Hm, I might be able to be convinced about forgiving you,” you teased, the lovestruck look in your eyes mirroring his as you slung your arms over his shoulders and crossed them behind his neck in an effort to be even closer to him. 

“I must be the luckiest man alive,” he mused, meaning every word of his playful response.

Yes, after living on land for so long, Jade had truly taken a liking to the human custom of wearing clothes and all the different possibilities it held. Then again, the fondness those memories held probably had nothing to do with the clothes at all.

© the-travelling-witch 2024 - do not repost, translate, copy or edit

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[wendynerdwrites]

A Measured Response: A Measured Response

Above please find the video I'm responding to, "A Measured Response" by James Somerton. If he deletes later (and I suspect he may), I will reblog with an embed of a copy of the video.

Also note: Much of this is taken from comments I made on his video. But I believe he may be deleting them. Or I got caught up in the spam filter because I commented more than once out of sheer frustration with what I was hearing.

James,

Okay, I am going to start off with a couple things I will give you credit for:

1) Acknowledging the shitty effect nuking your channel had on Nick's career and prospects. That's actually something that hasn't been discussed much and it is genuinely good of you to volunteer that to your audience. As someone who once had her own portfolio nuked by former partners, that's a good thing to bring up. No notes there. That was a good move.

2) You actually used the word 'plagiarism' this time.

I would also like to say that I am glad that you are safe and I am glad you are still alive.

I'm hearing lots about insurance, and your mental health struggles, and the move YOU chose to make "disrupting everything" and your mom's death, "not citing things correctly", how ADHD apparently made you plagiarize, and how hard things are for you. And how people harassed and doxxed you. How you totally want to prove yourself!

Here's what I'm not hearing about:

1) The harassment campaign you launched against your accusers that literally caused them to go into hiding. Sorry, but you don't get sympathy points about death threats and doxing without at least expressing remorse when you did that to others. You haven't mentioned it once. you also falsely accused OTHERS of sending harassment your way and have not acknowledged it.

2) The multiple transphobic and misogynistic lies you told.

3) The tangible impact of queer erasure YOU ENGAGED IN. You barely mention any of the people you stole from. Believe it or not, James, but those people? They also had lives, and jobs, and obligations. Some of them also had dead parents. Then there are the queer people you erased the identities of, slandered, and insulted. Becky Abertelli had to deal with YEARS of the same sort of harassment you're complaining about because of people calling her straight. And even after she was FORCED OUT OF THE CLOSET, you perpetuated that lie again. And yes, YOU DID, JAMES. PUTTING HER IN THE 'STRAIGHT AUTHORS' CATEGORY IS CALLING HER STRAIGHT, JAMES. THAT'S HOW CATEGORIES WORK. Then when she briefly corrected you, you lied about her repeatedly and inserted nasty little vague comments about her so that you could bait your audience into asking about it and claim she harassed you on twitter for not liking her show (which never happened once. She didnt even bring up you straight-washing her on twitter. It was in your comments section.). So not only did you lie, you went out of your way to create opportunities to lie about her more.

4) The outright dangerous rhetoric you engaged in. Such as:

a) You lied about the AIDS epidemic and generations of actual queer activists who you claimed didn't care about employment discrimination and just wanted to have "big gay weddings" because they were "boring. This is a false and dangerous retelling of queer history, not only isolating new generations of queer people, but also erasing the tangible benefits of the legal benefits you enjoy now, James. THEY WANTED MARRIAGE SO THEY COULD HOLD THEIR DYING LOVERS' HANDS AS THEY PASSED AND ATTEND THEIR FUNERALS, JAMES. THEY WANTED MARRIAGE SO THEY WEREN'T KICKED OUT OF THEIR HOMES AND STRIPPED OF BENEFITS DURING A HEALTH PANDEMIC, JAMES. THEY DID FIGHT FOR EMPLOYMENT RIGHTS, JAMES. THAT'S HOW SEXUALITY BECAME A PROTECTED CLASS. Lying about and downplaying the legal rights these valiant "boring" people fought for misleads current generations of queer people into caring less about their history, the people who have done the most for them, and protecting the legal rights so desperately won.

b) All the gay Nazi shit. I feel like I shouldn't have to explain why inventing facts about all the Nazi secret police and youth counselors being gay and extorting people for sex under the Reich is so insanely dangerous and disgusting, but here's a hint: it casts your own community as being the vile, perverted criminals that THE ACTUAL PEOPLE WHO WANT YOU DEAD (you know, homophobes? Not people on the internet who noticed you plagiarized the Celluloid Closet) perpetuate in order to sell their draconian policies to the masses.

c) all the misogyny. I get it, you want to erase the discrimination against women (and people you claim are women) have faced, especially as queer women. You wanted to pretend Radcliffe Hall was allowed to "carry on with her happy little life." You wanted your audience to believe that. You wanted your audience to shit on women for moral panics you made up. You wanted to erase the queer identity of a woman who had already been through Hell and then pass it off as justified. With the rising tied of renewed misogyny,, incel attacks, and reproductive rights being stripped from us, you really, really wanted to sell the message of women being whiny, jealous bitches who get handed everything, never deal with consequences, and hate people for not liking their work. (TBH, it feels a bit like projection on your part) thank you for spreading so much incel rhetoric and transphobia and making your audience ignorant of the great contributions women have made to LGBTQIA history.

I'd respect you more if you would just own up to the obvious biases you clearly have.

That's not all, but my hands are getting tired.

5) That you were caught lying about the contents of Hbomb's video in your initial patreon response.

6) The worth of the people you stole from.

7) Using Nick's asexuality as an excuse for your acephobic AF bullshit about how ace people apparently never dealt with institutional oppression when they're the most likely to be sent to conversion camp and have had corrective rape used as a "treatment" throughout history. Like, holy shit, James.

8) How you tried to lay blame for your shitty, stolen work on your own audience because "you didn't wanrt to make them and they were patreon requests." You didn't have to keep video requests as a perk. Those people paid over $300 to you for those wids only for you to throw them under the bus.

9) Your complete refusal to update your Telos backers on anything besides announcing new projects that you were using to replace the projects you promised them. You could have gone on Patreon, Indiegogo, Twitter, or your channel, and explained things. Things like this happen. But instead you ghosted and gaslighted.

10) The shit you pulled about Nebula.

11) The shitsquillion dollars you spent on cameras you didn't need when you were also claiming to your patrons about being on the verge of homelessness.

"It's a documentary, no opinion just cited facts." James, you've cited "facts" like "15% of the Hitler Youth counselors were gay", "Radcliffe Hall didn't get punished for writing a book about lesbians", and "there was no fight against employment discrimination" as "facts."

Then there's the part where you're still insisting that the people who told you that you can't make a short film on 3K were wrong. You insist it's possible because you intended to use non-union labor. then two minutes later you admit a movie you put together ended up going way over-budget because you didn't realize how much things would cost.

So the Telos nay-sayers had a point, James. Why are you still acting like they were wrong. Do you just not want anyone to find Dan Olsen's tweets about your finances?

The fact that you think you have any business coming back when all you've ever managed are lies and theft is so hilariously conceited. I get it. You want to be able to "carry on with your happy little life" (the way Radcliffe Hall DIDN'T). You want to go back to being a big youtuber and for everyone to admire you once you manage to go a whole video without stealing from anyone. That's not how this works. You have no credibility. You have caused a huge amount of damage not just to your immediate audience, but also the queer community overall.

You hurt a lot more people than Jessie Gender, James.

"We weren't trying to lie about things." BULL FUCKING SHIT. YOU NOT ONLY LIED ABOUT BECKY ALBERTALLI MULTIPLE TIMES. YOU EVEN MADE AN INDIRECT DIG AT HER SO YOUR AUDIENCE WOULD ASK ABOUT IT SO YOU COULD LIE ABOUT YOUR INTERACTIONS WITH HER AS WELL. YOU LIED ABOUT WHO ACTUALLY WROTE YOUR VIDEOS. YOU LIED ABOUT YOUR CREDITS. YOU LIED ON PURPOSE. AND YOU LIED IN WAYS THAT HURT PEOPLE.

You also lie in your video saying "in the beginning, I thought it was enough to put people's names in the opening credits." No you didn't. You started using those opening credits well after the accusations came rolling in. You even admitted on twitter that in the beginning you weren't "citing my sources yet."

Do I believe much of your bullshit was pure laziness? Certainly. But there can be more than one reason for it. There's no way you knew who Radcliffe Hall was and actually thought she face no repercussions. No one who has ever heard of The Well of Loneliness DOESN'T know all the prints were destroyed. It being a lesbian book that was destroyed by the courts is THE STORY.

You lied when you said you didn't call Becky Albertalli straight. EVEN THOUGH YOU ADMIT TO PUTTING HER IN THE STRAIGHT CATEGORY.

You lied about your "adaptation" of Evil Queens and tinker Bells and the citation and schedule of when you got approval. You got approval after the fact and claiming you got it from the beginning. your own email screenshot proves it.

You lied saying the Evil Queens video was "a direct adaptation of the books" despite half the video being plagiarized from completely different works. You lied about your plagiarism accusations and HBomb's video rehashing old "debunked" accusations on Patreon. You lied about Alexander Avila. You lied about reading/watching a bunch of the media you were "critiquing." you lied about when you started with your opening credits.

These were ALL LIES YOU TOLD ON PURPOSE.

You don't "research", "write", shoot, edit, and post a video with shit like that in it and say it wasn't malicious or intentional. You put these videos out there with scores of lies, many of which were directed at various marginalized groups, and CHOSE to never check if anything you said was true. You don't invent entire fake moral panics "by accident." You don't plagiarize by accident.

Please don't spend forty minutes reciting excuses and then claim "these are not excuses." You're not fooling us.

Also - Leave your poor mother out of this. She already had to die of cancer. Let the poor woman rest.

But thank you for linking your new patreon and telling us all about your upcoming videos! I am glad you have your priorities straight. (that was sarcasm)

Just leave the internet, James. Not LIFE, OBVIOUSLY. Stay alive. But your time as a content creator is done. You have no viability in that area. The fact that you think you can just do this is equal parts entitled and delusional. That you think you can come back so soon makes it even worse. Tell you what: you can try again after it's verified that the people you stole from have been compensated and you properly apologize for everything else.

I will not believe you're truly sorry until you can actually apologize without caveats, excuses, and, yes, lies. Saying you're sorry for "not citing things correctly" is not apologizing for what you did. It's cushioning the actual facts and downplaying your transgression. You have not apologized for the misogyny, acephobia, or transphobia, which, yes, YOU DID. I don't care if you want to claim it wasn't intentional YOU STILL DID IT. You haven't apologized for harassing and slandering your critics.

So no, James, I don't really believe you're sorry. I think you're sorry this blew up and that you have to make a new patreon. I don't trust that you won't continue being misogynistic. I don't trust that if you ever see this comment, that you will actually read it instead of crying homophobia and cancel culture and "wanting you dead."

Admit that you harassed people and that it was awful. Admit the extent. Admit you lied about Becky Albertalli and apologize to her. Admit that, yes, YOU HAVE SOME REAL ISSUES WITH WOMEN and that you are ready to confront them.

I don't trust you to do the right thing here. But maybe this comment will be read by someone who might have otherwise fallen for this and it'll be easier for them to see through manipulation like this in the future.

Just log off, Bro.

#james somerton #response #plagiarism

[beatrixstonehill2]

"Is the dress too much? I figure I might as well look good if I'm getting my boobs chopped off! Oh, did I not tell you guys? My bad, I've just been so excited! I think? I was going out the other day, walking along the boardwalk in my little blue bikini, picking up guys, normal Saturday. A guy approached me with a small film crew and started asking questions, telling me he runs a popular internet show involving beautiful young talent like me. He complimented my breasts and told me girls with 'oversized melons' like mine were exactly what he was looking for. He asked me if I liked being so big breasted, I said yes. He asked if I fantasize about my boobs getting destroyed or chopped off from time to time, I said yes, duh, what busty girl doesn't have that kink? He asked me if I've ever considered living out those fantasies, I said no, not really. He asked if I ever fantasized about having my clit removed, I blushed and said 'now I will, that's super hot!' He seemed very pleased by my answers, asking me if I thought girls like me ought to get their boobs destroyed for male pleasure. I asked him to clarify and he said if girls like me date guys who want us to get our boobs removed or reduced to nothing because it would turn them on, should we? I emphatically said yes!

He then revealed that he was gathering talent for his next online pageant. He told me it was technically adult content because his fans jerked off to it, but it was presented under the guise of a medical charity. That I and nine other girls like me would be paraded out into a packed auditorium of his fans. A staff of surgical students from a nearby university would be there, and he'd present the main event as a charitable pageant, of sorts. We'd walk out in formal wear, like any beauty pageant. Then we'd wear bikinis. After that we'd strip naked on stage and be lined up, sitting at a chair, with a sturdy tray in front of us. The surgical students would then numb our breasts, and we'd be forced to answer intimate questions about ourselves and our love-lives, all under the pretense of how being so big breasted has negatively impacted our lives and forced us to be oversexualized and overly sexual.

As we're interviewed, the surgeons in training would then remove our breasts, putting on a bit of a show.... playing with their food, basically. Cutting our boobs open vertically and showing the audience all the fat inside, any cysts or tumors (of which I maaay have quite a few, no surprises there!), for educational purposes, emphasizing how unhealthy they are..... piece by piece our boobs will be dismantled and tossed on a scale next to us. The weight of our breasts, how much was removed, apparently contribute a lot to who wins the pageant, so I should definitely stand a good chance of winning with these massive melons! After they're weighed our breasts are tossed in the trash, 'where they belong' the guy interviewing me made it a point to say. By this time in the interview I was straight up fondling my pussy and one tit in public, all caught on camera, available to view on his channel..... I watched the other girls get interviewed and they're so gorgeous, all equally excited to get their huge breasts chopped to mincemeat for this pageant.

It's only a couple hours away now, and I am a bit nervous. I obviously love having breasts this massive but the thought of doing this makes me sooooo wet! And seeing all these men comment on my video about how much they can't wait to jerk off watching my boobs get dismantled, I simply can't let them down! Wish me luck! I can't wait to stand on that stage with a bandage wrapped around my former tits, smiling and showing off my sexy new flat chest, along with the other girls. All for a good cause of course! How else do you make money to support breast cancer? Gotta show millions and millions of hungry eyes how dangerous and unhealthy my big fat perfect titties really are on the inside.... Ya'll are gonna flip when you see how many tumors and cysts these gorgeous fuckable titties have. I can't wait to show them off for you at long last! ❤️"

#breast reduction kink #breast shrinking kink #breast destruction #breast removal kink