#I had been thinking about making this drawing for quite a while now
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River
River was a walking enigma.
Instagram, TikTok, Facebook- hell, I even tried looking for a yearbook. Nothing. I had nothing on the guy. Like an illusion, he merely appeared, did his work diligently and then promptly vanished. In fact, his most common phrase around the office was a “Sorry, I can’t- busy.” His distance seemed to put some people off. That only made me want him more.
When Chelsea threw a quitting party, he dropped in, chatted for a few minutes and then left without saying goodbye- except to Chelsea. He wasn’t rude by any means. I’ve only ever seen the guy be polite. I personally found it quite hot. His mysteriousness brought an allure about him.
During another quitting party- a dinner for Mark this time, I tried to make conversation, asking him why he was named River. I actually asked the question in a few roundabout ways. Most I ever got was a “just what my parents named me- they thought I’d have brown hair”. I tried to pry for his hobbies, asked what he did for fun and he only responded with a “I watch baseball, go to the gym, watch TV. I guess”, before asking me about mine. The conversation was cordial, and probably a little boring, but I was captivated. This had been the closest I ever sat next to him.
My breathing quickened, ever so slightly, as I watched his shirt struggle to contain the form within. I traced the vascularity in his hands, the craftsmanship in the sculpt of his neck, the fabric of his shirt stretching taut when he would reach to grab a napkin. There was a full plate of food in front of me but I was only salivating at one thing.
The conditions were not ideal- but what choice did I have? The guy was like a ghost. I laughed a bit at the irony. I sat right across, trying to filter the scents and the sounds of food and camaraderie to focus on him. This would take all my brain power. I steadied my breathing and sharpened my focus, as I continued to answer and ask mundane questions about some work projects we both had. I started my work, mimicking every microexpression, every slight movement. I tailored every word from my mouth- even my delivery to slowly match his. This had to be subtle, of course- I’ve found out the hard way in the past how creepy this process could look in public if done too quickly.
River’s eyes blinked slower, like a haze was forming in his mind. I followed suit, weaving my slight impersonation in and out of our conversation. Like a pulse, I felt our movements begin to sync. Almost there. Now came the tough part, slowly drawing him out and isolating him without lo-
“C’mon, let’s all get shots- uh… River you ok bro?” Mark asked.
He shook off his daze, surprised at himself before laughing off the weirdness.
I was pissed the rest of the night, forcing myself to hide the permanent glare I would have worn for Mark.
As the night drew on, River left early- of course, and I continued on, staying a bit longer to wish Mark well in one final toast for the night.
That would be the last time in a while I’d be so close to him. The following drought was unbearable. For the next few months, no one quit. No big holidays were coming up, and our office wasn’t much for parties. Instead, I had to satiate myself with glances and the occasional short conversation.
= = = =
“Does that work for you two?” My boss asked. I nodded readily, eyeing River’s response. Another nod.
Fuck. I practically jumped when the boss said those words. A presentation. A presentation with River. A chance.
I think I deserved an Oscar for my acting in the few weeks after we were both tasked with the presentation. A wrong font here, corrupted save there, a missed chart. I “worked” tirelessly on the presentation with River, making sure to leave enough mistakes and gaps to drag the process out.
The guy was too polite, and I knew I had to use that against him. I ran the clock, watching the days progress into weeks and his brow furrow as stress deepened. Of course, I had to play my part, acting innocent at every step. A quick “sorry” for every mistake I planted was enough to ease suspicion. I even faked a confession about roommate drama causing my decline in performance. I thanked how private he was in that moment- I lived alone. Ever the hero, River was quick to take on the responsibility- even covering for me on few occasions. I knew I had to get inside this man.
Then came the day before the big presentation.
“I- uh… okay. Maybe we can finish this at my apartment,” He stated, clearly uncomfortable. I held back a moan.
= = = =
“You can set your stuff down there”.
It was a bit boring compared to what I expected. He was definitely put together at work, so it was a bit surprising to see some mess littering his apartment.
A few posters dotted the walls. Some basketball guy, I guess. An action movie. A generic college banner. His furniture boxy and grey, and the carpets running through the floors were in need of cleaning. Perhaps unsurprisingly, his kitchen was pristine, practically sparkling, aside from a small collection of protein powders and supplements.
“Uh.. sorry I don’t really have any snacks.”
He sheepishly opened the near-empty fridge and offered me a choice in drink. Some kind of pre-workout beverage and water. I took the water.
“Okay, I need to head to the gym for a bit. You still have a few slides you wanted to add, right?” A Hoodie-wearing, duffel-toting River asked. I nodded, trying not to look too eager and straining to keep my eyes from staring at his well-defined legs.
And then, there I was. Alone in River’s apartment. Alone with River’s apartment. I ran to his dirty laundry pile.
“Mmmphhhh” My eyes rolled back as I took the deepest inhale of my life. These were River’s boxer briefs. The same ones he had just worn. Doused in the scent of a day’s work. It was damp- guess River was a sweaty guy, though the long walk and couple flights of stairs to get to his apartment may have also been culprit. I was paralyzed in bliss, as I took in every note of his natural musk.
It reverberated deep in my chest as I continued to circulate every ounce of River I could inside me. The underwear was practically glued to my nose and mouth before I finally relented and drew them away, gasping for air. Exquisite.
My dick jumped at the sight of a single strand of his pubic hair, like flickering flame. A perverse smile planted itself on my face as I gingerly pulled my clothes off. I shivered as the cold, damp fabric that had just touched his bare flesh was now touching mine. I felt his hair on my flesh, now caked in his sweat. The elastic snapped around my waist as I released, a bit tight. My breaths fell shallow, ragged as I sat there basking in his cold embrace.
Next came the tank top. I mentally hit myself for not putting it on first, as it was a significantly less erotic experience. Still, as I slipped my arms through the holes that his once filled, my dick couldn’t help but twitch in approval.
I ran to his bed, gripped his sheets, and stifled another moan with his pillow. This man had, until today, been a full on mystery to me. And now, here I was- deep in the recesses of his apartment, nestled in the indent on his bed, buried in fabric stained with traces his scent and natural grime. I was drowning in the all aspects of his daily life. It was an intimacy with River previously unheard of and practically a miracle I hadn’t cummed yet.
The next few moments were sluggish, mind hazy and drunk in pleasure, as I wore my jacket and pants over the River clothes I had already had on me. I mentally thanked myself for wearing tighter clothing earlier today, as I felt them compress River’s undergarments tighter on my flesh. I walked back, sitting on the dining table and pretending to work.
A few minutes later, the door clicked open and a panting River waved. He no longer had a hoodie on and left nothing to imagination. I eyed the feast before me.
I fucking knew it. This kid was ripped.
I salivated as my eyes followed every contour of the body that would soon be mine. His flesh was flush and glistening with sweat.
“M-must have been some workout,” I mumbled. I couldn’t stop myself from staring.
“Yeah, fucking kicked my ass today,” River said with a short laugh. My dick twitched. River never swore, never gave off a jockish vibe at work, but here he was, beaten tired and unable to contain his natural state behind a facade of politeness.
My lip quivered when his post-workout scent wafted into my nose. It was divine. True to his name, River had an earthy, deep musk about him. A delayed, almost sour afternote followed, the kind that clings to the nose. It riled me up, knowing this offensive, raw blast of testosterone had been working next to me for the past two years, hidden by layers of work clothes and pleasantries. River was cleaned, masked and sanitized for corporate America. And now I had a private showing to it. I was feral. I wanted-no, needed to be piloting this hunk for myself.
My trance was broken when River dropped to his couch, laughing slightly. This wasn’t his normal laugh- it dropped all pretense and I recoiled out of reflex, thinking back to that same laugh that emanated from the football jocks back in high school.
A lazy pair of eyes drifted up to meet me. “Sorry bro, just new a few minutes.”
I gulped. This was my chance. No need for precision, no need for focus. River was vulnerable. In any other circumstance, I’d be syncing to his movements, slowly, imperceptibly altering his as he would start following mine. Then I could pull him into my trance, lead him to a safe area as I continued the process. This was different. River served himself up on a platter for me, beaten to near immobility by his workout. No way was I gonna miss this. I stripped quickly, abandoning my original plan.
Without a word, I walked closer to him, grabbing his wrists.
“W-what are you”. In that instant, i jumped on top of him, allowing my body to follow the contours of his.
He grunted in defiance while I began to grind in pleasure. “Ughhh! Fuck bro. I can’t! I can’t wait. I can’t wait to be River!”
The process was quick- his drenched, energy drained flesh practically grabbed at mine, drawn by my own energy into itself. It was osmosis. I moaned as I saw the process start, and River’ meaty form encapsulate my own. His arms and legs splayed as he screamed at the intrusion. “What the fuck are you-“ He grunted in pain as he felt our two forms begin to meld. I laughed a perverted laugh, eyeing how deep I was inside him. His lack of energy had been his downfall.
I licked the inside of his head, feeling him shiver and whimper at the intrusion. I whispered venomously. “What am I doing?” I thrusted myself deeper into his muscled form, “I’m becoming River. I’m gonna wear you like a fine red suit.” I felt my facial muscles match his and pulled him into a smile he did not intend to make. “You boring prude. This body was built for sex. You’re starving this poor thing. I bet it’s backed up.” I whined in half-whispers. “Let me take you for a ride.” River moaned in horror, kicking his legs into the sofa in discomfort as his muscled back began to close over me. Possessing the ginger felt like a warm, dank hug. “You feel that?” I teased, this time his voice mimicking mine. He could no longer respond as it had become my mouthpiece. Instead, his head repeatedly slammed the sofa in resistance, forced to wear a smile that was not his own.
I laughed, feeling our combined chest heave in deep pleasure as I jammed my fingers deep into each bicep. I drilled into each arm, relishing in feeling his muscle fibers slip past me. Power. He shook as he tried in vain to resist my fingers filling into his. Putting on those vascular hands like well-fitted gloves. “Fuck yeah bro… that’s the stuff. Dominate me. Command me. Control my every move. My nerves are itching for their owner. Put this ginger meatsuit on…” I mock in his voice. Tears welled in my eyes, as I felt him continue to slam our slowly merging head into the sofa. I purse our lips before moaning further. “Wear my clothes…” My legs wove into his, twisting and binding into one. “Wear my personality…” the bottom half of our merged face laughs, while my new eyes blink away angered tears. I felt his memories begin to flow and surround mine. His rage and desperation flowed through me. The slamming slowed, coming to a complete halt as a reborn River’s eyes blinked into a lewd, sinful glee. “Wear my life.”
I stood up, piloting my new body towards the mirror. “You’re still in there, aren’t you?” River’s outward defiance no longer showed over his perfect flesh but his mind was a raging storm. “Good.” His body lit in searing pain, sore muscle tendon and fiber forced to flex. I felt the storm calm as he was stunned. I myself winced slightly before my arousal imprinted itself through River’s face. This was my pain now. I could feel every fiber of his musculature tearing and repairing themselves. Building back stronger with the pre-workout mix he had drunken earlier. Building back with me embedded deep inside. Our leg wobbled in pain, before I slapped it back into submission, forcing it to flex. “Fuck yeah, that’s the stuff.”
I roared and patted my new chest and abs. “YEEAAAH!” Just one last piece of me was left. An intentional dessert I had left not internally bonded with River.
I let his normally stoic face relay the erotic pleasure I felt in wearing this flesh. I then pulled a “serious” face, bringing pained biceps into a flex. “We gotta live up to our name bro… gotta let the river flow”. A greedy tongue licked the dripping sweat hanging off ginger hairs of his armpit. I wanted to savor this. The tangy, salty nectar lingered in our shared tongue before I began to make out with my new reflection. With a grunt, I slammed River’s pelvis into the mirror, groaning as my growing hard-on began to fill into his dick. At first contact, I felt our senses mingle and the cold metal of the mirror. I grunted, trying to reign in the lust. With our linked sensitivity, I could feel my original body’s dick worming itself into my soon to be River-flavored cock. I thrusted my rod up, relishing in the soothing bare metal beneath the perverse cock and cock sleeve combination.
I grabbed at my new rod with one hand, while the other greedily dragged across my new body, feeling every new muscle and crevice and damp piece of the hunk. River thrashed inside me, disgusted at feeling his own flesh violate itself. At watching this new carnal entity that wore his face and name.
“S-someone’s gonna find out. Someone will fix this” He threatened in my mind.
“No bro… you’re the perfect host. No one at work knows a thing about you”. I cooed in his voice. “When we quit, when I take this thick ginger cock for a joy ride-“ tug “No one…” tug “No one will know.” I groaned as the last of his dick bonded to mine. We were complete. “I’m River now!” I shouted before devolving into whimpers of pleasure as I felt River’s warm seed stream out of me.
River’s softening, sore wood was forced back into full mast as I eyed the full extent of my- now his- depravity. Not wanting to waste a drop, I smeared my new lotion onto my new flesh, caking in layers of his drying sweat with layers of drying semen. I could only hear gagging in my mind as River was forced to taste his own produce. It’s my body now anyways, why shouldn’t it reek of sex and his natural musk?
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CARE FOR A DANCE...?
; italian boyfriend! yandere x fem! reader
english isn't my first language
You finished your work day very tired, you had been moving all over the place and your feet hurt. Hair was a mess and you only had a moment to fix it but the whole work nightmare was over and you were close to get home where your boyfriend was waiting for you with dinner ready. He was very good at cooking and a typical Italian meal that was Gnocchi di Patate, you loved the taste and the dedication Matthew put into its preparation.
Thinking about the delicious dinner that awaited you, you arrive at your front door and it doesn't take long for the smell of potatoes to permeate your nostrils.
“Hi, honey, I'm here”
In the distance you heard how Matt greeted you with music in the background and the sound of the wooden board making contact with the kitchen knife. You went downstairs to get to the room you share with him so you could change your shoes for more comfortable ones and more comfortable clothes, you wanted to go to bed to sleep but your boyfriend was waiting for some kisses of welcome and you quickly went downstairs to enter the kitchen that had an incredible smell.
You looked at his intense eyes and shiny hair, his nose was beautiful in profile and it was a part of his face that you adored madly. His head turned to your side and a smile appeared on his face.
“Amore mio, how was work?” He quickly stopped what he was doing to wash his hands and went in your direction to hug and kiss you.
“Awful, Kate leave me all her work to go to a new store that opened near work.”
“I hate how she take advantage of you, doll. You should quit your job. I can take good care of you.” He said.
Your boyfriend's proposal was not strange to you, you know very well what kind of man he is but you want to show him that you can stand on your own and that not everything you ask for or touch has to be bought for you.
“It's okay, honey. I don't want to think about her anymore, I just want to eat your delicious food..”
You touched his cheeks and let go of his grip to mix some more of the pasta that was almost ready.
“It's almost ready” Matt replied and then followed interrupted by a familiar tune. The song that Matt always told you could be a short answer to the meaning of the great love he feels for you...
↻ ◁ || ▷ ↺
Matt turns off the stove and looks at you with the cutest smile he's ever shown you. Every time he smiles that cute, innocent smile, he goes back to being that 16-year-old boy you met at summer camp.
“Our song, isn't it?”
You walked up to him, placed your hands together behind the back of his neck and rested your arms on his shoulders. His hands ran along your hips drawing you closer to him, his eyes shining like a thousand stars. Matt's lips hummed the rhythm of the song.
“I only have eyes” he stretched out the last two words “for youuuuu...” he stretched out the u, making a cute expression.
While you two dance to the romantic ballad like teenagers in love, each other's lips met. It was a kiss of intensity, possession and love. You pulled away gently to quietly watch his expression, he looked at you in the sweetest way and you smiled as you brushed his hair.
“Do you want to eat now, or are we still dancing and adoring each other's presence?”
You turned up the volume on the radio and Matt laughed.
request !!
#male yandere#reading#yandere boyfriend#fanfic yandere#yandere x you#fanfic#yandere#yandere x darling#first post#oc yandere#oc#i love him#love#soft yandere#yandere male#italian#sick love#obsessive love#obsessive yandere#obsession#obsessive thoughts#actually obsessive#romantic#lovers#relationship
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I've been thinking about woozi aftercare 😫😫 like after an intense session imagine him taking care of you and giving you so many compliments especially if you haven't seen each other in a long time (reader she/her)
ohhh i can see that! i do see him as a very shy person, the type of guy who wouldn't be able to speak his mind in the moment when it comes to love (i do think he's good at communicating love, his songs are his track record, but that he has to sit down and think them over first), but in that moment with so much going on i definitely see it🤭
warnings: not proofed, implied smut, aftercare, MDNI
Your legs are still tangled together, your heavy breaths synchronizing in a harmonious rhythm. He's still inside of you, keeping the close proximity for as long as possible, and your arms are still around his neck - softly playing with his hair. Jihoon lets out a sigh that almost sounds like a whimper as he leans his forehead against yours. The bedsheets are clinging to your sweaty limbs, but you can't bring yourself to start cleaning up.
"Thank you," he whispers before giving you a chaste kiss.
The energy changed in a matter of seconds. Animalistic grunts turned into soft panting, violent movement turned into gentle touches, and the look in his eyes turned from lust to pure love. You had missed this, you had missed him - both of these sides of him. Jihoon had been gone for months on tour, and now he's finally with you again - not just over the phone, or on a face time call, but here with you, in real life.
"Why are you thanking me?" You brush away the hair hanging in front of his face, a playful smile appearing on your lips.
"I don't know..." He huffs and hides his face in the crook of your neck, where he presses a few loving pecks. "You're so beautiful... I just can't believe that you're with me. I've missed you so much."
You wrap your arms tighter around him, the small amount of movement had both of you wincing. He got home two-to-three hours ago, you couldn't quite tell, and the two of you had been at it ever since. It was surprising to see him like this, but you shouldn't be surprised considering the amount of racy photos you had sent him for the past few months. Safe to say, you are more than sensitive right now.
"I've missed you, too," you murmur and then, almost brittle, say, "You don't have to leave soon, do you?"
Jihoon moves to look at you again, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. He reaches out to your face, brushing something off your cheek with his thumb - you don't know if there was something actually there, or if it was an excuse to caress your cheek.
"If you're thinking about that now, I didn't do a good enough job." He frowns, a soft pout forming on his lips - it's been so long since you've seen him act cute.
"I just don't want to fall asleep now if you'll be gone in the morning," you say.
"I won't be gone," he quickly replies. "I'm staying with you- I've taken a few days off."
It's almost cute how much he's trying to reassure you. His flushed face and his messy hair, combined with his wide eyes, makes you laugh - any worry about the next day disappearing completely. Jihoon quiets down and a smile settles on his lips. He presses a final kiss on your cheek before moving to get up.
"I'll clean up, okay? Wait here," he says, as if you're capable to move at all.
"Hurry back," you chirp as you pull the covers tighter around you.
In a matter of seconds, Jihoon comes back with a warm towel to help clean you up. He can't meet your eyes as he brings the towel to your thighs, so different from how he had treated you a few minutes ago. The shyness has apparently not hit him just yet, as he soon crawls back into bed and moves you to lay on his broad chest. One of his hands are on the top of your head, keeping it in the crook of his neck, while the other is on your back - drawing circles on your sensitive skin with his fingers.
"You're so good for me," he says. "I'm sorry for being away so much."
"It's fine," you answer, "as long as I get to experience you like this every time you come back."
"Noted." The chuckle he lets out almost sounds more like a scoff as it is quickly cut off by a yawn.
His fingers subconsciously drum against your back to some unknown melody. You find yourself wanting to ask what song it was - if it was something old, something new, or an old unreleased track - but Jihoon seems keen on not talking about work tonight. You can't blame him.
"I'm happy you're back," you murmur and nuzzle your face closer to him. "The bed is always cold without you."
Jihoon smells like the laundry detergent you told him you usually buy, his skin radiates the kind of warmth that seeps into your soul, and you can hear his heartbeat quicken at your words. You don't have to look at his face to know that he's turned red.
"I should get you a heating blanket," he grumbles in an attempt to hide his fluster.
"I like this more," you counter.
He removes his hand from your back to place over his eyes as a soft breath leaves his lips. You look up at him with a teasing smile and, as you expected, his ears are bright red.
"Jihoon." Your voice gets his attention and he removes his hand from his face to look at you. "I love you."
His flustered expression changes to a warm and much softer one. You shuffle around until your face is right above his, and you press a kiss on his lips. It's short, and Jihoon must think it's too short as he tries to chase your lips when you pull away.
"I love you, too." His eyes stay closed, as if he can't bring himself to look at you or as if he's still expecting you to kiss him again.
You give into him, pressing another kiss on his lips as your hands cup his face. Jihoon smiles against your lips as he gets what he wants, and takes you by surprise as he manhandles you onto your back. His eyes, although not as intense as before, has a lustful spark in them again.
"Again?" you ask incredulously.
"I have to make up for lost time," he argues and presses a kiss to your cheek.
"It's late, aren't you tired?"
"I'm never too tired for you," he murmurs before turning his attention to your body for the umpteenth time that night.
#svthub#svt#seventeen#bee buzzed εїз✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*#kpop fanfiction#ask#anon#kpop fanfic#kpop#kpop writer#fanfic#svt fluff#svt smut#svt fic#woozi#woozi x reader#svt woozi#seventeen woozi#woozi smut#lee jihoon x reader#jihoon#lee jihoon#lee jihoon smut#jihoon x reader#jihoon scenarios
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‘ Tick
Tick
Tick ‘
The light sound of ticking from the clock could be heard from Aiden’s bed , which Aiden has been laying on for the past 40 minutes , or so . His parents had gotten him it quite a while ago . He wasn’t sure why , because he knew he wouldn’t be able to figure it out or have enough focus to remember , but it was something along the lines of “ Not having to use a phone or digital clock when it’s around . “
‘ Tick
Tick
Tick ‘
He didn’t like that clock . It felt loud , felt repulsive and it bothered him so . Yes , it felt loud , he could feel it . Each time it ticked it felt like it slowly crept into his ears like a bug and started chewing at his brain .
.
What time was it ?
He couldn’t remember . Maybe he should , it seems like something he should know of but he doesn’t . Not right now .
.
.
Aiden didn’t really feel loved .
Wow ! That was random , gotta be all edgy don’t we .
.
Well , it was true . But of course he’s wrong , he has to be . His parents were there , sometimes , and showered him with gifts whenever they came back from traveling for work .
.
Annoying . It’s all so irritating . His parents love him , he’ll keep telling himself that to make sure it sounds true enough to believe , even if the truth may hurt more then the lies .
. . Lies ? No no , there weren’t any lies . They never said anything to lie , did they ? He couldn’t remember .
Hungry . He was hungry .
or bored ? One of the two fit .
Maybe he’s lying to himself just as much as he believed they were . But he wasn’t , he was sure his friends cared for him .
I thought this was about his parents ? He’s sure it was , that’s what got him thinking more in the first place , since around 2 : 33 pm .
.
It was 2 : 33 .
Was it ? Maybe it’s a minute before , maybe after but he couldn’t check the clock if he wanted .
‘ Tick ‘
He wanted to die . No , no he didn’t . Maybe . He hadn’t put much thought into that in a while . Maybe he does , or he’s sure he just doesn’t care if he dies or not . Risk is fun .
The risk or the thrill ? The risk is what gives him the thrill . What does he like more ? Hm .
Parents , family , yada yada . He wished they had bothered to call him back once , just once anytime they were away to check in on him , make sure he’s fine . He’s always fine , he’ll always be fine , what ELSE is there to be ? Not sad , he can’t be that it would worry everyone . Would it ?
He wished his parents worried more . Called more , appreciated him more , cared about him more he doesn’t care if they love him or not anymore all he wanted was they’re stupid attention , not coming back every few months with a ton of pricey , dumb gifts to make up for lost time . Lost time they barley bother to recover because it’s all just gifts he never asked , never wanted once , and yet he never bothered to speak up about it .
He felt tired . Hungry ? Bored ? He went over this already .
They loved him , but he has a feeling they at least love him for being a family member more then their son .
But he can’t help but wonder what they truly cared most for .
Himself , or the fortune that was brought upon them .
.
.
Caring . They were caring , his friends were so caring to him .
He brang them up again . How many times has he did that ?
2 ?
It was 2 : 33 .
No , he’s wrong , several minutes passed already . Several hours ? No , it’s still light out . He feels cold . Deathly cold . But the fans not on . Is it ? He doesn’t want to turn his head to check , he’s tired . He feels too under - stimulated . He wants to move , draw , run , jump , dance , but he can’t .
He wants to .
Will he ?
He doesn’t care right now .
Care ? If he asked that to anyone , everyone , how many answers will he receive . . Or how many will differ from the rest . Everyone has different feelings , different reactions , different expectations towards whatever .
What would his friends say ?
His parents ?
‘ tick ‘
.
.
What time was it again ?
#SURPRISE !! ANGST !!!! That’s right ! You got TRICKERED !!#IM ON BOTH SIDES LOSERS#BOW DOWN BEDORE THY MASTER#What ??? You thought that cause I started calling this a war I was gonna pick the wholesome side ?? PFFTTT#WHOLEISME STUFF COMING SOON BEWARE#😹😹😹 !!!!#Say what you wanna say and let the words fall out honestly I wanna see you be something idk#Number 1 victory royale yeah Fortnite im bout to get down ( get down ! )#Idk the lyrics to that song#school bus graveyard#sbg#sbg (webtoon)#school bus graveyard webtoon#aiden clark
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‘‘Tell him he knows everything he needs to know and feels everything he needs to feel.’’
#star wars#cassian andor#andor#andor fanart#star wars fanart#edit: thanks everyone for the reblogs and likes <3#cass has some drippy shoes#so the three circles are kinda ferrix aldhani and narkina#I had been thinking about making this drawing for quite a while now#finally started working on it today#couldn't really get the style to look right tho#I wasn't sure how to fix it so decided to just call it a day#but I'm happy with the pose so decided to post it anyway#can't seem to master the brushes or a consistent style for that matter#I really need to stop drawing without using references#lmao#my drawings#across-stars.post
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"You Don't Own Me."
pairing : Alastor x overlord!reader
summary : A new overlord has came to play in Hell, you. Alastor took notice in how many souls you've accrued in such a short time. He has to let you know where you stood in the overlord hierarchy, however things don't go the way he originally planned.
warnings : slight blood play ig? Idk. Author trying to edge the reader :)) not proofread
word count : 900
You hadn't been in Hell for long but it felt as if you belonged. It didn't take long before you started catching the hearts of the sinners. A lot happily giving up their souls to simply breathe the same sulfuric air as you. The way you used these souls was unique. You weren't mean or evil in anyway shape or form. In fact, you were often seen as an inspiration.
The overlords in Pentagram City were a different story. None of them liked the way you shot up the hierarchy without even trying. Instilling fear was what got them where they were at and they weren't going to give up their seat to a goody-two-shoes like you. Your methods interested one overlord in particular, Alastor. Despite literally being stuck in the past, he was quite the open-minded demon.
He didn't know whether or not to applaud you or challenge you. Your talent would be useful. He wanted you for himself. And for years he fought to claim your soul and make a deal. And not once out of the hundreds of proposals did he convince you it was a good idea. The two of you slowly started to develop a strange relationship. Nothing romantic but there was definitely tension. While he didn't own your soul, you were often in each other's company.
It was like mutualistic relationship. He staved off the overly pushy overlords constantly offering you a job; jobs that would obviously make you uncomfortable. In turn, you offered your assistance in a lot of his business. It came with pros and cons like any other agreement. He was extremely possessive of you. You were treated like precious property. You had enough. There was no reason for this behavior. Typically it didn't bother you, but something snapped.
"Alastor. You do not own my soul. I'm not property that you can toy with. I should be allowed to go wherever I please." You crossed your arms in frustration hearing him explain why he didn't want you in the Vees territory.
"Darling, you know I hold you with upmost respect. It's got nothing to do with you being property. I understand you are immune to Vox's hypnosis spell. It's not him I'm worried about. My worry is of Vox's plaything, Valentino." He gripped your wrist, leaning ever so slightly to place a kiss on your knuckles. "Understand that you are a sight to behold in the entirety of Hell. Valentino, is not honorable in his job as I, my dear. Without the proper protection, you might as well be an easy target." His breath ghosted your ear, sending shivers down your spine.
It's like he forgot who you were, what you were capable of. It was time to show him how that talent of yours has affected him over time. And trust when you say, it did.
"Oh Alastor, I think you forget as to how I became an overlord in the first place. The feminine charm that you oh so fear backfiring on me is why you have been by my side after all these years." You wrapped your fingers around his bow tie, pulling him down to your level. An enchanting smile creeping up on your face as Alastor's expression glitched out from the bold action. The other hand running through his hair making him let out a soft purr. His eyes focused on yours trying to determine your next move before you could decide.
To his surprise, you gently pressed your lips against his. His head was dizzy with confusion and guilty enjoyment. Your lips trailed down his neck, biting down a bit. Enough for his blood to trickle down. Your hands were now trading between playing with his hair and drawing small circles on the back of his neck. Your lips returned to his, smearing the blood from your tongue as if it were a beautiful crimson lipstick. The poor guy was so touch starved, he gave in to the sudden intrusion of affection. He couldn't do anything but allow you to press his buttons.
Your tongue ran over your lips, swallowing whatever blood was left on them. You took a step back to view the obvious mess you've made. Alastor's eyes were dazed as if he was in another world. His face beet red nearly matching the color of his suit. It was such an unusual sight to see on him. And you managed to do it.
"My my, Alastor, you look like you would be willing to sell me your soul just readingthe look on your face." You held your hand to your lips to cover the laugh attempting to escape. "How the tables have turned, dear." A joke of course, he would never actua-
"Yes." His ears dropped to the back of his head, still standing at your level. No sign of humor on his face.
"I'm sorry, what?" You blinked dumbfounded, mouth agape.
"I will give you my soul, but only if I'm the only one to experience that from you." Your face flushed from his proposal. Alastor had actually submitted to you because of a single kiss? But it wasn't JUST a kiss to him. It forced out desires he had been holding in for a long time. Now more than ever was he determined to have you be his. It didn't matter as to how anymore.
"You've got yourself deal, Al."
a/n: I know this one is short, it was more of an experiment because of a dream that I had. However if you like this concept, I'd be more than happy to build upon it in the future.
#hazbin#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor hazbin#the radio demon#alastor the radio demon#hazbin hotel fandom#hazbinhotel#alastor imagine#alastor hazbin hotel#alastor#hazbin alastor#alastor smut#alastor x y/n#alastor x reader#alastor x you#alastor angst#alastor fanfiction#alastor oneshot
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Orc boyfriend with what he thinks is a tiny, smol mate who's so smol, so delicate, so sweet... They're actually pretty firmly built for a human, while a bit short, along with being stubborn and sassy and ready to bite heads off for their adorable XL size boyfriend.
I've got so many orc stories going right now, but you know I'm not mad about it ^_^ I love Orcs <3 There are so many different ways to write them. I have another couple of Orc asks I'm working on, as well 🥵
Orc (Cedar) x thick f reader
Word Count: 5K
Tw: sfw orc fluff, some brief descriptions of battle, brief mention of sa, size difference
More monster fluff here
“Put the stick down, sugar. We’re not going to hurt you.”
You scoffed at the soldiers circling you, their eyes dark with lust.
“We just want to have some fun,” another said, his eyes drifting over your shapely hips. “Don’t you owe us a debt of gratitude for rescuing you?”
You squeezed the iron fire poker that you had gripped in your hand.
“Rescuing me? You didn’t get your rocks off burning down the damn village?”
“It was a strategic maneuver,” the leader of the armored men said with an oily smile. “We are here to liberate you.”
“By assaulting me?” you snapped.
There was not a doubt in your mind that the second you lowered your weapon, they were going to drag you into some dark corner and act out all of the sick thoughts they had echoed on their faces.
Your King’s soldiers weren’t good guys. When they heard there was an Orc camp nearby, they couldn’t be bothered to attack it directly. Instead, they burned down your village. They said it was to prevent them from resupplying.
It was true you did business with the Orcs, who were technically your enemy, but they never acted like enemies. While big and quite scary-looking, they paid in gold and were always polite to the women running the shops. You never felt the least bit unsafe alone with one, and occasionally, they’d help you out with things that needed done– fixing roofs and cartwheels. The men of the town had all been conscripted for the war, so it mostly the ladies keeping the village afloat. The soldiers had made a whole lot of children and the elderly homeless.
“Come on, sweetie, this game is getting tiresome.”
One of the soldiers dared to approach you, and you didn’t hesitate a second, swinging your poker and smacking him so hard in the head that his helmet crunched. He collapsed on the broken boards that had once been the floor of your little noodle shop.
“Now that’s a crime!” the leader barked.
He waved to his accomplices.
“Get in there and restrain her!”
Their eyes fell on the collapsed soldier, and they looked between one another, trying to sort out who was next to get a whomping.
You flexed your wrist, preparing to swing at whoever came at you next, when you heard the heavy steps of an Orc approaching. The soldiers were too inexperienced to know what that sound meant. You’d heard them approach every day at dinner time for several months. It wasn’t until he was shouldering his way through what was left of your door that they took notice.
“The enemy approaches! Your swords!”
The Orc you knew as Ash, wrinkled his brow and let out a lilting call to gather his brethren. The ground rumbled as more heavy feet ran towards you.
Wood splintered, and what remained of the ceiling creaked as they tore the walls away, making more room for a fight.
Faced with five nine-foot Orc barbarians armed with axes almost as big as their bodies, the soldiers tried to run for it. You screamed as they threatened to trample you, trying to force their way through the back wall, but they never reached you.
The Orcs didn’t need to draw their weapons, grabbing every soldier and smacking them against the ground until they stopped moving—a gruesome way to die, but practical.
When the danger was crumpled into a wet gnarl of bones and metal, their eyes turned to you. Ash said something to his friends in their own language before he stomped across the room and plucked you up like a kitten, cradling you in his arm.
“Hey, What do you think you’re doing?!”
“Quiet, little one. You’ll give us away.”
You puckered your lips at him, annoyed, as if the stomping of five tons of muscle was quiet. When you tried to wave your poker at him, he plucked it out of your hand but didn’t drop it, tucking it instead in his belt. He said something else to his friends before turning to split away from them.
You had no reason to panic. The Orcs had never harmed you, but being taken away from the group put frightening thoughts in your head, and you instinctively started screaming.
The Orc sighed, sounding tired, when four more soldiers came skidding around a corner, swords in hand. You looked up at him apologetically, smacking your hand over your mouth to stay the scream that didn’t want to stop.
He set you on the roof of what was left of a building and pat you on the head, a gesture that you read as “stay” before pulling out his axe. You weren’t going anywhere, even if you wanted to. The drop was fifteen feet down, and the stairs were just charcoal at the base of the building.
“Attack!” the leader of the soldiers shouted, but their moves in their heavy metal armor were slow. Ash swung his arm in a sweeping stroke that sliced four of them in half where they stood. The other one, eyes wide with horror, turned tail and ran.
Replacing his axe, he picked you up again and headed into the woods. This time, you had enough sense to keep quiet.
You’d never been to the Orc camp before, but you heard it before you saw it. The brassy sound of a grinder and hammers on metal rang through the trees, blended with the shouts of the Orcs in their language. There were lots of huge tents and fires spotted here and there. The camp was buzzing with activity. Orcs ran around shouting at one another, some gathering weapons, some sending groups in the direction you came. You recognized many of them as some of your customers. They often came in groups and hauled away vats of the noodle stew you sold.
A few Orcs waved at Ash but didn’t pay you much mind as he carried you to the nicest-looking tent. It had a banner outside of it with a gold bear embroidered into the fabric. Ash set you on the ground at the door and handed you your poker before patting you on the back, indicating you should go in.
“What’s in there?” you asked.
He said something in Orcish that you didn’t understand and walked away. There were too many other giants around to attempt an escape, so you pulled aside the fur covering the door and peeked inside.
“Hello?”
Your question was returned with a deep voice, smooth as a glassy pond.
“Enter, little one.”
Taking a few steps inside, you were faced with what you could only describe as the most handsome Orc you’d ever seen. His skin was a deep olive, and his hair fell over his shoulder in a long, dark sheet with small braids here and there. His tusks were large, but they seemed only to highlight how well his lips were formed. His features were harsh and defined but not unattractive, with a straight nose and deep-set gold eyes. The only thing you could point out as a flaw was a dark scar from his forehead to the right corner of his jaw.
You assumed the Orcs were blunt tools, sprinting into battle with no real plan, but this one was sitting at a high table examining maps with a book in his hand.
“I’m…I’m not sure why I’m here,” you said, brandishing your poker, though you didn’t feel like you were in any particular danger.
“I asked Ash to fetch you,” he said without looking up. “You’re the noodle shop woman.”
“My name is (Y/N), not “noodle shop woman,” and I don’t have a shop anymore. The soldiers burned it.”
He put his book down and turned his gold eyes to you.
“That’s why you’re here.”
“I don’t understand.”
His eyes drifted over you before they settled on the poker you were still holding up.
“You were feeding most of the camp. If there’s no shop to visit, you can make noodles here.”
You blinked up at him.
“Oh…Am I your prisoner?”
He chuckled.
“If you’d like to go back to your people, I won’t stop you, but judging how they burned down your village without hesitation, I think you’re safer with us.”
You had to admit that made some sense, but you still weren’t buying it.
“I can’t stay here with you!”
He tipped his head, the corner of his lip twitching up slightly.
“Why is that, little one?”
You narrowed your eyes at him.
“First of all, I’m NOT little, and second, an Orc camp is no place for a lady.”
A shudder that had nothing to do with fear shot down your spine as his eyes moved over your body. He crossed the room, scooping you up, and setting you on his table. Your feet dangled far from the ground.
“What- What are you doing?” you snapped, waving your weapon at him.
“My neck was hurting from looking down at you. You’re very short.”
The sparkle in his eyes told you he was teasing you, which drew heat to your cheeks.
“Maybe compared to you. You’re unnecessarily large. What are you doing with all of that muscle? Are you going to arm wrestle your books?” you pouted, eyes drifting to the massive bicep peeking out of the fur vest he wore.
He laughed out loud, gracing you with a wide smile.
“You’ll fit right in here.”
You raised your nose at him, trying to look unconvinced.
“Where will I even sleep? All of your tents are big and drafty.”
“Since you’ve declared your intention to court me, I wouldn’t mind if you slept here.”
“Declared my intention to— Where did you get that idea?”
He flicked a fingertip at your poker.
“In the old days, Orc females came to their males' tent and threatened them into submission with their favorite weapon.”
Your cheeks burned like hot irons, and you almost dropped it.
“Well…I’m not trying to court you. It’s for protection.”
He snorted at you but nodded his head.
“If you say so, little one, but it will be much warmer in my tent if it’s drafts you’re worried about.”
“I don’t even know your name. Ash called you something in your language. I didn’t understand…”
He examined one of the feet you had dangling over the edge of his table. Compared to his big hand, it was tiny.
“Cautalin, it means something close to general in your language, but you can call me Cedar. That’s what my mother named me.”
Your eyes traveled over his barrel chest and thick arms.
“Seems about right,” you said, finally setting your poker down.
He picked it up, looked it over, and tested the weight in his hand.
“Not a bad choice,” he said. “Light but effective.”
You glanced up at him through your eyelashes, feeling cheeky.
“Do you feel like submitting?”
You watched a flicker of heat ignite in his eyes, and he slowly set it down.
“Come on, let's get you to bed, killer.”
He picked you up again, walking you over to a large pallet covered in furs.
“This is your bed.”
He gave you another smile.
“We’re in the middle of a battle; I won't be sleeping tonight. It's all yours.”
Though you weren't quite sure about sleeping in his bed, weariness overtook you at the sight of the comfortable, cozy furs, and you crawled in, wrapping yourself up to your chin in blankets.
He put your poker next to you and blew out the candle, slipping out the front flap as you dozed.
—
You woke to yelling, but not the sound of battle. Crawling out of your furs, you picked up your poker and peeled out of the flap Cedar used as a door. Another Orc you didn't recognize was the one yelling, and Cedar had his arms crossed, looking bored.
Your eyes drifted to about twenty women, elderly, and children, cowering in the chilly morning air, their faces streaked with soot from the fire.
“They’re our enemies!” the strange Orc barked.
“Really, Asvoth? Are you really afraid of a handful of children and their mothers?”
“This is a war camp, not a nursery.”
“It's my camp, not yours. They stay.”
“I outrank you. I can take your command.”
Cedar snorted.
“Yet the King hasn't trusted you with a unit of your own. You're nothing more than an errand boy with a fancy title. Any of these children could take your job.”
Asvoth’s face turned a deep forest green from both embarrassment and indignation. He yanked the sword he wore on his back to his hand. Without thinking, you hopped in front of Cedar, waving your poker at the intruder. You had no idea why, a fact you only considered after you’d already put yourself in harm's way. Still, you'd made your move so the only thing to do was follow through.
“You heard Cedar! We’re not leaving! Get on if you know what's good for you!”
Asvoth sprung forward, dropping his sword toward your head. Your eyes squeezed shut, preparing for pain, but there was only the clang of metal. Opening one eye, you glanced up to see Cedar’s axe blocking the other Orc’s blow.
There was a moment when you thought Asvoth might overtake him, but Cedar’s muscles weren't all for show. He shoved the other Orc back, and he toppled over, landing on his butt in the dirt. His sword landed in front of the children with a CLANG.
“Woah!” the little ones cheered, circling around it like it was a strange animal.
A few of them tried to pick it up, but it was far too heavy, making their eyes pop even wider.
Cedar nodded at him, and a pair of Orcs from the camp dragged Asvoth up by the collar of his tunic, pushing him towards the forest.
“I'm reporting this!” He shouted over his shoulder as he stumbled towards the woods.
Cedar waved a hand at one of his Orcs, beckoning him closer.
“You and Orin follow him and make sure the King gets our side of the story, not his.”
When the situation seemed settled, Cedar looked down at you and patted your head.
“Thank you for your protection, little suitor,” he said with a smirk.
Your cheeks blew up in flames, but you puffed your chest and looked at the children watching Ash pick up the abandoned sword. They hopped around him like little bunnies, begging him to teach them to use it.
“I have no idea what you mean! I’m here to make noodles! Point me in the direction of my kitchen! These little mouths are probably hungry.”
He chuckled, but guided you with a large hand on your back to a large tent filled with whatever food supplies they had rescued from the village. You wrinkled your nose at the primitive workspace, but there were enough flour and eggs to work with. You were surprised to find someone had stuck in a lower table, perfect for your height. After washing your hands in a water basin, you got to cooking.
“What are you still doing here?” you asked Cedar, who had plopped down in a chair and was reading a book.
He smiled.
“Reading.”
You blinked at him, putting your floury fists on your hips.
“Are you surveilling me? I’m not going to poison you all! I have to eat this too, you know.”
He tipped his head to the side, his gold eyes sparkling in the makeshift hearth.
“The sound of cooking is soothing. I liked to study in the kitchen while my mother cooked when I was a boy.”
You looked him up and down.
“I can’t imagine you as a child.”
You thought for a second, tapping your chin.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen an Orc child, actually.”
He looked back down at his book, shifting in his seat to get comfortable.
“You will,” he said as he flipped a page.
Your brow wrinkled at that nebulous statement, but you knew everyone was hungry after the long night, so you got back to work.
By midmorning, you had a stewpot big enough to feed an army filled with noodles, vegetables, and what little bit of venison the Orcs had been able to hunt between the battle.
“All done,” you said, clapping your hands and creating a puff of flour in the air.
Cedar got up and shouted something to his men, and two Orcs appeared to carry the big vat into the central circle so it could be served. You felt a sense of satisfaction when all the bowls were passed out and the children, tired humans, and bloodied Orcs were eating. The mothers spoke quietly between one another, while the children could hardly sit still, their big eyes following the Orcs every movement.
“Here.”
You looked up to find Cedar holding a bowl out to you. A grumbling stomach had you accepting it, and he patted the seat next to him for you to sit down. The two of you ate quietly for a moment before you asked him a question.
“What are you going to do with all of us?”
“Hmm?” he asked.
“Well, I mean when the battle is over. We have nowhere to go. Our town is destroyed.”
He looked at the children who, after scarfing down their bowls, were engaged in some game with Ash.
“I was hoping you would all return to our capitol city with us. That’s where we live when we’re not fighting.”
Your eyebrows jumped.
“To the Orc city? We’re humans. Don’t your people hate us?”
He shrugged.
“There are some weak minds who reveal their own fragility with their hate, but the rest of us like your kind. This whole war started because we wished to create allies amongst the humans.”
“What? The soldiers said you attacked!”
He chuckled.
“Your king has a very effective propaganda engine. That’s probably the only thing about him that is effective. We sent a delegation party to him to discuss our interest in mingling with you humans. You all are prolific; despite your size, you’re a sturdy bunch. We thought marriages would bolster our numbers and strengthen your stock. Your King attacked, and we were forced to defend ourselves. The force that attacked us was decimated, and he declared war.”
“You mean…you wish to mate with us?”
His eyes slid down to you, and he gave you a sharp nod.
“Is that so surprising?”
You thought about it for a moment.
“I don’t know…Maybe a little. You’re so strong. You’re not afraid we’ll diminish you?”
His thick hand cupped your chin and rubbed some flour away with his thumb. Your heart raced at his touch.
“Size is not what makes us strong. Our strength lies in our unbreakable bonds. Your King will be defeated, not because his forces are less than ours, but because he orders his men to betray his own people.”
He nodded towards the children, who were playing chicken fight on Ash and another Orc’s shoulders.
“They will remember it was men who burned down their village, stole their fathers from them, assaulted their mothers and Orcs who took them in, fed them, and helped them smile again.
“I suppose you’re right,” you agreed.
His smile widened.
“I will remember you took up arms to protect me against an enemy twice your size. You belong among the us.”
Suddenly the wool dress you wore was much too hot.
“I should go wash these before the next meal,” you squeaked, grabbing his empty bowl and scurrying away.
Once safe in the kitchen tent, you pressed your hand against your chest, trying to still your heart. Why did Cedar make you feel so fluttery? You’d never felt this way around anyone before. You usually kept to yourself and steered clear of romance. It had to be the battle, you decided. You were still hyped up from the night before. In a day or so, you were sure it would pass.
Dunking empty bowls in ice-cold river water helped cool your thoughts as you tried to focus on what to make for dinner. The Orcs stocks were pretty hefty, but they and the children ate a lot. You’d noticed many of the parents tipping some of their bowls into their little one’s, making sure they were fed properly in case the next meal didn’t come.
It saddened you it had to be this way. What horrible person decides to burn down their own citizens' village? Who was the King even protecting you from? Not the Orcs, that’s for sure.
A loud rabble outside dragged your attention away from the dishes, and you picked up your poker before peeking your head outside.
A few Orc scouts were speaking in rapid Orcish to Cedar. When they paused, his eyes immediately looked around for the children and frowned before he spoke to you all.
“The human King has sent reinforcements. They will close on our camp by nightfall.”
The mothers all gathered their children to their skirts, looking weary.
“Women and children to the kitchen tent! We will keep you safe, but you must stay hidden!”
You made way as a small stampede of humans rushed past you, many pushing their children to hide under the table.
“What’s happening?” You asked Cedar as people and Orcs rushed around.
He scrubbed his hand over his jaw, looking disturbed.
“Someone ran back to your King with a story that we’d kidnapped you, not taken you in from starving in a burnt-down village. We will win this fight, but then we will have to make the journey back to the capitol. They will keep attacking if they think you’re within their grasp. Do you think you can explain this to your people? We don’t intend to take anyone by force, but I wouldn’t trust the King’s soldiers.”
“Yes, of course. Whatever you need.”
You hurried back to the kitchen, where the humans were muttering to one another.
“Should we flee to the forest?” Isla, the former town candlemaker, asked. “Can we depend on the Orcs to protect us?”
Another woman scoffed.
“We can’t trust anyone. These Orcs are kind now, but they’ll sell us out at the drop of a hat.”
Linda, a quiet woman who worked as a weaver, whimpered.
“But we’ll starve in the forest alone. Word is the King’s men have raized every town for fifty miles!”
You inserted yourself into the conversation, holding up your hands.
“No one needs to escape to the woods. The Orcs are going to take us back to their capitol to keep us safe.”
Linda squeaked in horror.
“The Orc capitol?! Where they can enslave us?!”
“They have no plan to enslave you. Don’t you want your children to be safe? We will be safe behind their walls!”
“Or…when the King takes the city we’ll all be hung as traitors!”
“Shawna, don’t put that in her head. Linda, we’ll be fine. I trust Cedar.”
You paused on that thought, realizing not only was it true, it didn’t make any sense. You’d only just met him. Your conversation was interrupted by the shouting of men outside.
“We’ll talk about this later,” you hissed, “Here, take this.”
You armed the humans with whatever haphazard weapons you could find, mostly butcher knives and skillets.
Outside, you could hear the clang of weapons and the squelching sounds of metal piercing flesh.
“What's happening?” Linda asked, trying to get around you so she could peek out of the tent flap.
“Stay back!” You barked. “If they see us, we’re in trouble!”
You could tell she was losing it, hopping from one foot to another, her hands getting slippery on her knife.
“No, no, no,” she whimpered. “I don’t want to go with the Orcs. Even a human monster is better than them!”
Before you could grab her, she skipped through the doorway, running wildly into the fray. The other humans gathered around you, their opinions spilling out like loose marbles.
“What is she thinking?!”
“Linda, come back!”
“Let her go, she’s nuts.”
You clenched your jaw, squeezing your iron poker.
“She’s scared. I’ll go get her…you all stay put!”
Before anyone could stop you, you darted after her, trying to catch sight of her red skirt through the mess of armour-clad humans and massive Orcs. The King had sent a much larger force than the one that had burned down your village. The battle around you was brutal. You almost slipped on a puddle of blood, your eyes frantically searching for Linda.
You found her pointing her knife with shaking hands at a human soldier.
“What are you doing? I’m a human, too!”
“The King ordered you all dead!” he snarled, raising his sword at her. “No witnesses! Come on, do your duty to the kingdom, and die quietly!”
Panicking, you launched yourself at him, whacking him with your poker as you barreled into him. The two of you went down, metal clashing as you fell and dropped your weapons. Both of you scrabbled for purchase in the blood-soaked earth. You could hear Linda screeching beside you as you tried to overpower the soldier. His armor, now slick with mud, made it impossible to get a hold of him, and he triumphantly dragged himself to his sword, clumsily grabbing it by the blade and flinging it in your direction. You saw the metal flash in the firelight before pain exploded between your eyes, and your vision went black.
—
“Please tell me she’s not dead,” you heard Linda’s voice from far away.
Isla scoffed.
“You’d better hope she’s not, Linda. This is all your fault!”
“I'm sorry!” she simpered, “I made a mistake! I thought the soldiers were here to free us!”
“Free us from what? A good meal and a safe place to sleep?”
You dragged your eyelids open, vision blurry for a moment before it cleared.
“What…what happened?” you murmured.
“She’s awake!” Isla gasped.
You felt her cool hands against your cheek.
“Take it slow, here; have some water.”
She pushed a tin cup into your hands, and you wet your palette with a few sips. Looking around, you were surrounded by the humans, all looking very concerned.
“Is everyone okay?” you asked.
Isla smirked, and the other women tittered a bit.
“Thanks to you, I suppose. That chieftain or warlord or whatever saw you get knocked in the head and went berzerk. He killed most of the soldiers all by himself.”
Another woman poked her head out of the tent.
“She’s okay! You guys can untie him!”
“Untie who? Is the battle over?”
Isla nodded.
“Yeah, all the soldiers are dead. We’ve all been waiting for you to wake up so we can move the camp before the King sends anymore. Can you believe he ordered them to kill us? I guess so he could claim the Orcs did it and get more support for the war.”
She smirked at you.
“And as for who's tied up, your Orc friend thought you were dead. The others had to tie him up so he wouldn’t go on a rampage. He was ready to storm the King’s stronghold! You ought to see the ropes they had to use…thick as your waist!”
You heard the roll of stomping feet, and Cedar burst through the tent flap. His hair was wild, and his tunic was red with blood. He fell to his knees in front of you, holding his hands as if he couldn’t decide if you were safe to touch.
“Are you okay?” he asked, carefully prodding the bandage you had wrapped around your head. “That monster didn’t do any permanent damage, did he?”
“She’ll have a scar,” Isla said, “but I think she’s fine.”
Cedar’s face lightened, pulling you towards him, his big arms wrapping around you.
“Thank the goddess,” he sighed with a heavy breath. “I thought they’d taken you from me.”
He cupped your cheeks between his palms when he finally let you go.
“You are so stupidly brave, little one,” he gasped, eyes wet. “You have more honor than your people deserve.”
Behind him, Isla waved the women out of the tent, leaving the two of you alone. Not used to so much intimate attention, your cheeks warmed, and you weren’t sure where to look.
“I just didn’t want Linda to get hurt,” you muttered.
He gave you an odd smile, scooping you out of the cot you’d woken up in.
“Once I get you to our home in the capitol, I’m going to have to keep you locked up for your own safety,” he said, patting your head.
You looked up at him from where you were tucked, leaning on his bicep.
“Our home?”
He grinned at you, counting on his fingers.
“First step to Orc courting: Threaten your desired with your weapon. Done. Step two: Allure them with your cooking skills, cooking or hunting something delicious. Done. And the final step: Display your honor through a grand act of bravery. Done! You’ve effectively and thoroughly seduced me, little one! All that’s left is to take you home!”
He tipped your chin up with one thick finger and dipped his head to press his lips against yours. Your whole body felt like it was made of butterflies, every nerve flickering with excitement. Despite being covered in blood and mud, his kiss tasted like honey and sage. It felt like a warm cup of tea on a chilly morning. Your eyelashes fluttered shut and you sank into his warmth, despite yourself, happy to be alive and in his arms.
“Oh!” you gasped as he straightened his neck.
Your mouth fell open, unsure what to say. Before you could think of anything, Cedar carried you out of the tent, shouting orders at his men to pack up the camp so you could leave for the capitol.
#monster x girl#orc x reader#monster x reader#x reader#yandere x reader#soft yandere#orc boyfriend#monster romance#monster fluff#male yandere#yandere fluff#yandere romance#monster boyfriend#orc#orc romance
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Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 2 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: The collection of letters that Bradley received from the fourth grade class provides him with entertainment while deployed. He takes the time to answer their questions and send a package back to the United States via air mail. But he has your email address. He also has a bit of a crush and some questions himself.
Warnings: Fluff, language
Length: 4100 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader
Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist
A few days later, when Bradley was done with his training protocols for the day, he returned to his bunk with a different mission in mind. While he unzipped his flight suit, he eyed the box which was taking up most of his nightstand, and a smile found its way to his lips. He managed to find a notebook that nobody wanted along with a thick, padded envelope, and he was going to take the time to respond to the fourth graders who wrote to him.
He'd spent hours poring over the letters, laughing at some of the questions from the kids and frequently picking up that one photo. He couldn't stop going back for more. For another look at you. Just one more look. Okay, this really was the last one. He had to toss it across the small room toward his duffel so he could focus on something other than your smile and the fact that he might have a tiny crush on a fourth grade teacher who knew absolutely nothing about him. Yet.
The note from Jayden was on the top, and Bradley opened it up and started to jot down a response.
Jayden,
It was so nice to hear from you and the rest of your class. To answer your pertinent questions, I am currently stationed on the USS Theodore Roosevelt. The most disgusting food in the mess hall is easily the cabbage rolls (which taste nothing like cabbage... or rolls). The best food in the mess hall is surprisingly the meatloaf. And yes, I would love to see a photo of your Cocker Spaniel. Please send one next time. I hope you're studying and doing your best in school.
Lt Bradley Bradshaw
The next note he decided to tackle was the one from Violet who had the tiniest handwriting he'd ever seen. The page had at least fifteen questions written out, but he decided to answer just a few for her. He had to squint as he skimmed through them again.
Violet,
You seem very inquisitive. That's a great quality to have, especially if you want to be a pilot someday. No, I did not attend the Naval Academy. I went to the University of Virginia. Yes, the Navy is way better than the Air Force. Yes, I can hold my breath underwater for three minutes. Yes, they actually made me do it. No, I don't think I could make it as a Navy SEAL. Yes, I have been staying hydrated and getting enough sun, thanks so much for asking. Keep studying hard, because you have a lot of school ahead of you before officer training.
Lt Bradley Bradshaw
Okay, so this was actually a lot of fun. Up next was a response to the note from Oliver, which made Bradley laugh every time he looked at it.
Oliver,
Thank you so much for drawing the different Naval aircrafts for me. I hate to break it to you, but I actually do not fly the F-35 Lightning II. Yes, I know they look 'sickeningly cool'. Yes, I know it would be like 'slam dunking off the back of a dragon'. I guess I never knew I was jealous of those pilots until right now.... But I fly the equally cool if not quite as sickening looking F/A-18 Super Hornet. And yes, I would be more than happy to draw my own version of one for you. See below.
Lt. Bradley Bradshaw
The ten minutes he spent replicating his own aircraft to the best of his ability for Oliver churned out a pretty damn good result. He fished his phone out of the nightstand and took a picture to email to Nat when he had time, because she would find this whole thing amusing. Then he reached for the letters from Harrison, Nia and Jackie. He wrote his responses, and after a bit, he had a decent sized stack of letters all ready to go back to the fourth graders.
After a few more days, he worked his way through the entire class, and each kid would soon have a handwritten response on the way. He just needed to figure out what he wanted to say to you. The pretty teacher from the class photo that he now kept tucked in with his personal items. He worked on that one last, writing your full name at the top of the page and wishing you didn't go by the very non-specific Ms. which gave him zero clue as to whether or not you were married.
The package you sent was the nicest piece of deployment mail I have ever received. Thank you. I'm lucky it ended up in my hands. I'm impressed by how much all of your students have learned about aviation this year. I just hope I did them justice in regards to the questions they had for me.
I also hope you don't mind that I replied to each kid individually. They had some very amusing stories and questions, and I wanted to acknowledge all of them. But there was one question in particular that I was asked so many times, I thought I'd answer it here instead. My call sign is kind of a silly one, so it's okay if you all laugh. I go by Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw, and my helmet is mostly red, yellow and black.
Your kids seem like a fun bunch, but I bet they keep you on your toes. Feel free to let them know they can write back to me again, but please include my name on the package this time. I don't know that I'd be lucky enough to have it fall into my hands again by chance. I'll just be here somewhere in the middle of the Pacific Ocean for a few more months, ready to answer any questions you throw at me. Hope to hear back from you soon.
Yours Truly,
Lt Bradley Bradshaw
The following day, he packed everything up and dropped it off with the rest of the ship's outgoing mail. There was a rumor that a helicopter would be coming to pick it up in the next day or two, and he wanted to make sure it got back to California and those fourth graders as soon as possible. On his way back to his bunk, Bradley stopped by the lounge to see if there was an iPad free, hoping to send a quick email or two. He was in luck. He also happened to have your email address memorized.
--------------------------
You yawned at your desk and checked the time on your computer. Within the next ten minutes, your classroom would go from silent solitude to mass chaos, so you took a minute to clear out your email inbox. You had a few messages from some parents and a reminder about Spirit Week from the superintendent. And a random piece of junk mail that must have slipped through the spam filters. You didn't know anyone with a US Navy email address, and you didn't know anyone named Bradley Bradshaw.
As you closed your laptop, you gasped and tried to pry it back open again as quickly as you could. The Navy! The package you sent a few weeks ago! Maybe it was someone writing back to your class! Of course it could just be someone saying they were sorry that they didn't have time to engage with your students, but you figured even that was better than nothing.
"Come on," you whispered, entering your credentials again before your inbox reappeared on your screen. The email was just a few lines long, but it was addressed to you by name. You were smiling immediately as you read it.
I just wanted to let you know that I got the mail you sent to a deployed Naval Aviator. There's a package on its way to your school for your class. It should arrive in about a week or two. Your fourth graders provided me with several hours of entertainment, and I hope they find my answers to their many (and amusing) questions useful. Thanks for the laughs, and thanks for the photos, too. Can't tell you how much I've been enjoying them. Hope to hear from all of you again.
Yours Truly,
Lt Bradley Bradshaw
You squealed and pumped your fists in the air. Someone actually got the box! And he actually responded! The other, older teachers thought you were just wasting your time when you deviated from the lesson plans a bit. Literally all of them said there was no way anyone would write back, even though you took the time to go through the proper channels at Top Gun on North Island. But now you could rub it in their faces, all thanks to Bradley Bradshaw who sounded like he'd had as much fun with this whole thing as your class had.
Then your day really started as Violet and Oliver burst into your classroom, calling out your name with excitement in their voices. The rest of your kids followed behind them, already asking about the plans for the day and what kind of adventure you'd be taking them on in each subject.
When you clapped your hands twice and said, "Good morning," they all clapped and replied with their own greeting, and then they sat quietly with their gazes fixed on you. "Guess who I just got an email from!"
"The president!"
"My grandma!"
"My Cocker Spaniel!"
"Oliver's grandma!"
You just shook your head and tried not to laugh as you said, "None of the above. But do you remember when we wrote and packed up those letters for a real aviator in the military to read?" Most of the kids nodded, so you added, "Well, he emailed us! And he sent us some mail that should arrive in about a week!"
And telling them that was a mistake. Because you didn't know a moment of peace after that. Every morning, you had kids rushing into the room to see if the promised piece of mail arrived yet. Every day you had to disappoint them, but you were finding yourself a little disappointed, too. You wanted to know what this Bradley Bradshaw guy sent back.
You'd responded to his initial email letting him know you and the kids in your class were delighted to hear from him and that you would let him know when the mail he sent arrived at your school. He didn't respond, but you figured he was busy. Too busy to constantly muck about with your class while he was thousands of miles away on a deployment.
And that was what left you standing at your desk with your mouth hanging open in awe when the padded envelope did finally arrive one morning. Because when you carefully cut it open, you found not just one letter to the class but individual handwritten notes, one for each child.
"Wow," you whispered, pulling the note with your name written on the top out of the stack. This man seemed humble and sweet, and his letter made you laugh in more than one spot as you read through it. Then you read it again. He sounded apologetic about responding to each individual kid, but you felt like your insides were melting. Who would do that? Who would take the time to give individual attention to a bunch of nine and ten year olds besides you? And you were technically getting paid to do it.
Bradley Bradshaw seemed willing to continue to engage with your kids, and you weren't going to stop him. Because starting that morning, he became something of a legend to your class. A celebrity. A real lieutenant in the Navy replied to all of their silly questions, and their love of aviation just grew from there. You figured you were going to have to keep your lesson plans going a bit longer while their faces lit up as you walked around the room and handed them each their notes. You had taken the time to skim them beforehand, often laughing at his sense of humor which seemed to jump off the pages.
"Can we write back to him?" Jayden asked as everyone read their notes from Lieutenant Bradshaw. "I have more questions."
You smiled and nodded. "Yes, you may write back to him." Then you postponed your geology lesson until the next day and let them spend the next forty minutes writing some followup letters. You took some pictures of them diligently toiling away at their desks, excitement on their faces. Then you bit your lip and sat down at your own desk.
As you started to construct an email letting him know the envelope had arrived, your thoughts drifted to what he might be like. Humble and sweet, for sure. But he also made it a point to tell you that the box from your class was the best piece of mail he'd ever received while deployed. Maybe he was a little bit lonely. Maybe he was single. Maybe he was stationed on the west coast. Your thoughts started to get ahead of you, and it was hard to reel them in when you imagined him excited to see another email from you. Smiling when he was handed another box from your class during mail call.
Dear Lt Bradley Bradshaw,
We got the envelope from you today, and my kids are absolutely thrilled! I'm not sure if you know how hard it can be to wrangle eighteen fourth graders all at one time, but they are currently sitting quietly and working on new letters for you to read. Once again, please don't feel obligated to continue correspondence if you're too busy. I'm sure you have other people you could be writing to who want your attention as well. I just wanted you to know they are overjoyed that a Naval officer took the time to answer their questions about aviation.
I have attached some photos as proof that they are sitting still. Thanks again for making their day.
You signed your name at the bottom the way you always would from your work email account, and then you attached the photos. After a brief debate about adding the selfie you took with Violet where most of your face was visible, you decided to just go for it. Adding it to the mix wouldn't hurt anything. It wasn't like this semi mystery man would be up all night thinking about you.
But you found that you were still thinking about him when you went home to your silent house and made dinner that evening. Maybe he was a little bit lonely, but maybe you were, too.
-------------------------
It was amazing how infrequently Bradley found himself thinking about Vanessa. He was busier now with his duties picking up a bit more as his deployment wore on, but even when he was tired and in his bunk at night, his thoughts seldom settled on her like he was afraid they might. He didn't miss her or her half-hearted emails, and he wasn't craving the connection of reunion sex with her.
Instead, he was thinking about what a group of fourth graders were learning about this week and what their cute teacher was up to. It had been a few days since you emailed him, letting him know that his package was delivered to your school. You made it sound like the kids were excited that he sent it in the first place, and when he really thought about it, he supposed some officers would have just eaten the snacks and tossed the notes in the trash.
He didn't reply to the email yet, still thrown off a bit by the pictures you attached. Your classroom was vibrant, and the kids were absorbed as they worked on more notes for him to read whenever they happened to be delivered to the carrier. But the photo with you in it held his attention longer than it should have. The fact that you were working at a school that was just a handful of miles from his damn house made him feel warm.
But what would he do about it? What could he do about it? Nothing. He didn't want you to think he was creepy. He still knew essentially nothing else about you. The only thing he could do was keep it friendly if not professional. Unless of course you did something to push the boundaries of conversation into a more personal realm. God, if you did....he didn't think he would be able to handle it.
The next day, when he was heading out on deck to talk to the mechanics who were doing regular maintenance on the aircrafts, he took his phone. "Hey, you mind if I take a few photos of some of the engine parts? I want to send them to a class of fourth graders who will think it's cool."
"Go ahead, Lieutenant," the head mechanic replied. Then he smiled and asked, "You dating a teacher?"
Well. Wouldn't that be something? Bradley would never run out of curious pen pals. He would always have some fourth graders to take interesting photos for and to send notes to. He'd always have a classroom to visit as soon as he got home from a deployment.
He couldn't help but picture you as the teacher.
"Nothing like that," he replied, his voice a little gravelly. "Just writing to some kids who are learning about aviation."
After dinner, when he had a chance to use an iPad in the lounge, he did his best to put together a response to your email that would at least hint at the curiosity he felt.
If all it takes is mail from three thousand miles away to get your class to sit quietly, then I should probably be writing to you every day. But I'm sure you're a great teacher. That's a given considering how much your students learned and shared with me. And I can assure you that I'm more than happy to take the time to write to your class. And you. Please don't think I feel obligated, because I do not. I want to.
I have attached a few pictures of some F/A-18 engine components as well as some of my cockpit controls. Each photo is labeled, but please let me know if you have any questions.
It was nice hearing from you.
Yours Truly,
Lt Bradley Bradshaw
As soon as he hit send, he wanted to kick himself. Should he have included a photo of his face like you had twice now? Or did he already sound too desperate to hear from you and your class again?
"Shit," he muttered, looking around the lounge as if there was going to be someone here proficient in the art of getting to know a fourth grade teacher without sounding stupid. But it was too late now. All he could do was wait for the next mail call or hope you decided to write back to his ramblings by the next time he checked his email.
-----------------------------
You were going to have to scrape your jaw off the floor. You had no idea what this man's face even looked like, but his hands were... something else. And his thighs... well, they were pretty great, too. It must have been too long since you got laid, because you were sitting at your desk in your classroom staring at the set of photos in your inbox, currently unable to look away from his right hand. It was wrapped around the throttle of his aircraft. It was elegant with attractive veins and rough calluses. You were sure that you were supposed to be focusing on the cockpit controls, but all you could see was that hand and his thick, muscular thighs below.
The next photo was no better for you. He was holding up his helmet with his call sign Rooster emblazoned across the front, and you were able to see his left ring finger. There was no wedding band. There was no evidence of an outline where a wedding band would belong. There was just his big, strong hand.
You whimpered softly while your students worked on their math tests. You couldn't help it as you took one last look before logging out of your email account. And now you needed to know if his face matched the very attractive image you had in your mind.
When Jayden called your name, you rocketed to your feet like you'd been caught red handed. "Yes?" you squeaked, your voice sounding higher pitched than usual.
"I'm done with my test. May I have the hall pass and use the restroom?"
You handed it to him as the rest of your class finished working through the math problems. A few minutes later, when you collected the papers from them, Violet asked, "When is Lieutenant Bradshaw going to write back to us?"
It had only been a few days since you mailed him the second box of notes and some more snacks, but it made you happy that they were all so invested in learning more from him.
"It will probably be a few weeks before we get anything in the mail. However... he did email me some pictures of engine and cockpit parts from the aircraft carrier for me to share with you guys." When you looked around the room, the kids were on the edges of their seats, excited expressions on their faces. With a laugh you added, "I was going to wait until tomorrow and use the projector to show them all to you, but if you're very well behaved for the rest of the afternoon, maybe I could pull them up on my computer for you to see them today."
Not two hours later, you were just as excited as the kids were to look at the photos... again. As they crowded around your desk, you opened up the first one of the cockpit to a barrage of questions.
"Is that really his jet?"
"Is that the throttle?"
"What do all the buttons do?"
"Was this right before he flew it?"
Once again you were distracted, but you managed to click over to the next photo, and the kids gasped in delight.
"His helmet is so cool!"
"It says Rooster!"
"That's his call sign!"
"Red is my favorite color!"
You just smiled softly and laughed. "Should we go ahead and start working on another list of questions for him?" you asked as you slowly scrolled through the rest of the pictures. "He said we can write back to him as much as we want to." When everyone cheered, you handed Oliver a marker and pointed to the board at the front of the classroom. "Let's start making a list."
You listened to all of your students call out questions for Bradley while Oliver wrote them down. Then Violet asked, "Can he send us a picture of his whole jet? From the outside of it?"
You cleared your throat and added, "Maybe he could get someone else to take the picture so he could stand in front of it. For size comparison."
Violet nodded, but you knew you were a fraud. Sure, it would be great for the kids to understand just how massive the F/A-18s were compared to an actual person, but you were the one who wanted to see all of Bradley. You were itching for it now.
Later that night, you drank most of a bottle of wine and did something you promised yourself you'd never do. You logged into your work email account after nine o'clock. You skipped over the handful of unread emails from parents and clicked on the icon to compose a new message. With your liquid courage goading you on, you typed up a response to Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw and hit send before you could think twice.
Thank you for the photos. They were very enlightening. We especially liked the ones where you were showing off your cockpit. Or I did, anyway. The kids liked all of them and started on another list of questions for you. Good luck getting rid of us now.
We were wondering if you could have someone take a picture of you standing in front of your jet. For size comparison purposes. And also because my students would like to know what you look like. Hearing from you makes our day even better.
You couldn't believe how forward you were being with this man who you'd never even met in person, but you fell asleep thinking about his hands and what they might be capable of.
-------------------------
This Bradley makes me swoon. I've never wanted to be a fourth grade teacher so badly in my life. There is something that's starting to blossom between them even though they haven't even met in person. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls
PART 3
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#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster fanfiction#rooster imagine#rooster x reader#rooster x you#bradley rooster bradshaw imagine#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfiction#roosterforme#yours truly bradley bradshaw
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makeup disaster
pairing: lando norris x fem!reader
summary: lando Doing your makeup on stream what could possibly go wrong?
warnings:haven’t proofread 😞
You joined Lando while he was streaming last week, and both of you were playing a game. Well, you lost, which means you’re gonna let him do your makeup on his next stream.
Both of you sat, and you got your makeup essentials that you’re gonna have to use for this stream, hoping Lando wouldn’t freestyle your face considering the fact he doesn’t know anything about makeup.
“Hello chat,” he said while looking at the computer, “so apparently I’m doing your makeup,” giving a cheeky smile.
“I’m regretting this already, omg,” you said, laughing nervously.
“Anyways, first thing, I guess primer ’cause you have been nagging about killing me if I don’t put it first,” Lando said.
You rolled your eyes playfully at him.
He started tapping your face aggressively.
“Ouch, Lando,” you said, giving him a stern look.
“I’m trying, okay?” he said, looking at you innocently.
“Anyways, I think we need to use this,” he said while holding your foundation and your beauty blender.
He blended your foundation, and you were thanking god that he was doing good for now. Well, your happiness didn’t last long when you saw him taking your setting powder and putting it over your face.
“Wait, Lando—“ you were trying to tell him he should put concealer, but all you heard was “SHUSH.” You gave him a literal side-eye.
And then he had the audacity to put concealer after what the hell????
Looking at the mirror, all you could see is your cakey face.
He opened your eyeshadow palette and took a bright blue and started putting it over your eyes.
Then he picked your blush, PAINTED your face with it, making you look like a tomato.
Then he got the liquid eyeliner and hummed, “this is interesting,” and decided to literally act like your eyes are drawing papers.
He gave his attention to the chat, reading it, and people saying that’s not how he should put things, just for him to say, “nah, y’all are just wrong, I know what I’m doing.”
He took the lip liner, he put it on your lips, and gloss.
“Alright chat, that’s the finished look,” he said, looking proud as if he did an achievement.
“You did terrible, Lando,” you said, looking at him.
“You know, I did good, better than you do,” he muttered.
“Alright, I hope you guys enjoyed this stream and don’t fall in love with my makeup skills ’cause,” he said, smirking, then he ended the stream.
After ending the stream, Lando turned to you with a cheeky grin. "Alright love, let me help get that makeup off you. Can't have you walking around looking like a clown all night!"
You playfully hit his arm. "Whose fault is that?" You retorted with a laugh. Lando gently took a makeup wipe and started dabbing at your face, his touches soft and caring as he removed the remains of his "artwork."
"There we are, much better." He smiled, gazing into your eyes. You felt yourself getting lost in his stare, all thoughts of the disastrous makeup attempt melting away.
Suddenly , you leaned in and pressed your lips to his in a sweet kiss. Lando made a small noise of surprise but quickly melted into the kiss, cupping your cheek tenderly as he kissed you back. The spark between you that had been building for so long was finally igniting.
When you finally broke apart, Lando rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily. "Well, I may not be able to do makeup but at least I know how to do that," he whispered with a wink. You giggled, feeling giddy and light. It seemed the stream had ended on a much sweeter note than anticipated. Your "punishment" had turned out to be quite the reward after all.
#Lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris imagines#lando norris x you#lando norris smut#formula one x reader#Formula one x you#formula one x fem!reader#F1 imagines#lando norris#Charles leclerc#lando norris fluff
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Moonstruck
a/n: im going to try a new format for one-shots bc i dont like how my old one looked
Taglist: @starlets-things @sad-darksoul
"He's staring at you!" Your friend, Zoe, whisper-shouted in a singsong tone.
"He's such a moron," you grumbled, focused on finishing your assignment.
"Y/N, c'mon," Zoe turned to you with a serious look on her face. "You should totally just give him a chance. He's got the hots for you, hundred and twenty percent," your friend patted herself on the back.
You sighed, "That's ridiculous," before turning over to look at Sukuna for yourself.
And as your friend has said, he was already staring at you. He rested his head on his fist, and delivered a sultry look your way.
You cocked your head to the side, as if to say, what?
Sukuna mouthed back, you know what, before he lifted his head from his fist, and flipped you off.
Speechless, you gawked at the pink-haired man.
"He is so into you, girl."
"He is so not," you muttered, turning back to face your friend.
"But Y/N," she whined, "you guys are literally so cute together. Combining both of your genes will literally make the best babies."
"He's such an oaf, the most annoying man-child I've ever met," you rolled your eyes, before shaking your head.
At this point, Zoe just gave up on her matchmaking abilities, and rested her head on the desk beside yours.
All the while — across the classroom — Sukuna's twin brother, Yuuji, was no different from Zoe.
Yuuji wiggled his eyebrows at his older brother, "I see the way you look at her. Ooooh, does my cold-hearted brother have a crush?"
Sukuna glared down at Yuuji, who was making kissy faces and noises, "I should've eaten you in the womb."
Yuuji immediately dropped his act, "How dare you."
The rest of the class went by quickly; your friend said she had something to do so you just packed up your stuff.
Minutes after you left the room and entered the hallway, you were roughly pulled into what you assumed was a janitor's closet.
You heard the door lock behind you.
Even in the dark, you could still cleary make out two crimson eyes staring back at you.
"Sukuna. Why are we here?"
"Don't play dumb," he walked towards you as you kept on backing away, until your back met the wall. "God, you're so fucking annoying."
Your eyes finally adjusted to the darkness, and you saw Sukuna lean down towards you, your noses barely apart. Your breathing quickened.
"I can't stop thinking about you. You've been in my head all day," Sukuna narrowed his eyes at you.
"And just, what are you going to do that?"
Something snapped in Sukuna, he didn't even bother holding back.
You felt one of his hands roughly grip your waist, while the other tangled itself in your hair. He breathed in your scent; it was intoxicating for him.
He forced his lips onto you like an animal, before biting your bottom lip, drawing blood. You gasped, and he took the opportunity to shove his tongue inside.
This wasn't new to either of you, you've been in this little arrangement of yours for quite some time now. Albeit your friends know nothing of it; which is probably best.
"Sukuna," you giggled against his lips.
"Mm, you're so beautiful. Just can't get enough of you."
Your noses brushed against each other.
"Hah—" You found it hard to breathe.
Sukuna pulled your hair, emitting a squeal from you.
"Sukuna, please, I can't—" You felt tears sting your eyes, your mascara smeared over your cheeks.
He pressed his lips against yours, "Just for a little more. You can take that, right?"
You fervently nodded, although you felt a little dazed, and out of your mind.
The seconds passed by slowly, and the minutes passed by even slower, until Sukuna finally decided he was satisified.
He pulled away, and smirked to himself, looking at your half-lidded eyes, your mascara stained face, your lips stuck out in a pout. And as cocky as he was, Sukuna couldn't deny he was also out of breath.
Panting, you said, "You're such a jerk."
"Sure, sweetheart." Sukuna wiped your lipgloss off of his now shining lips.
"Serious, 'Kuna. You need to learn to let me breathe."
Sukuna rolled his eyes, "Pfft — as if you weren't the one provoking me."
You scoffed, and fixed your hair — or, well, attempted to, at least.
Sukuna adjusted his pants, and ruffled his unruly hair, before moving his hand to unlock the closet. You stood behind him in anticipation.
A beat passed.
"Well? What's taking you so long? Don't know how to unlock a door?" You teased, but when Sukuna didn't retaliate, you soon realized the direness of the situation at hand.
"It's not unlocking," Sukuna turned to face you, confusion mixed in his tone.
"I see that, dumbass," you muttered, sliding down the wall into a sitting position.
You were going to be here for a while.
What could you do to pass time?
#sukuna x reader#ryomen x reader#sukuna x you#jjk x reader#jjk x you#sukuna fluff#im so sick and ill#but i will never be sick of writing sukuna
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Ooooo hii!! I was wondering if you could do something fluffy like the reader saying that they love one of the marauders last names and them being witty and replying that if they want it they can have it. idk its something i think about but dunno how to execute. <3
I know this request is quite old but I was looking through them and found this so yeah
─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆｡ﾟ. ───
Pairing: bestfriend!James Potter x reader
Warnings: The reader being kind of stupid and oblivious, one use of Y/N
Word count: 580
Disclaimer 1: Everything on this Blog is fiction!!!
"If you want". :☆｡ﾟ. ───
You groan in frustration causing Remus to force his attention away from Sirius, drawing his eyeliner, and instead to you. Giving you a confused look from his place on the big armchair and James stops massaging your head to look down at you in his lap in concern, "Did I hurt you, love?"
You're too distracted by the thoughts running around in your head. Potter, what a name. It feels like it was written for a book, you once looked up its meaning, someone who makes Pottery, and ended up spending two hours thinking about whether James would make pottery and if yes what kind, what shapes, what colors, how messy?
You would've been going down the same rabbit hole right now if Peter hadn't thrown a pen at you. It hits you right in the stomach causing you to sit up and glare at Peter sitting on the floor and drawing. "What the fuck was that for???"
He grins, "Prongs was asking you a question, airhead!"
Before you can respond James cuts in "Hey! Let's not get mean." He pulls you back in his Lap ignoring Peter mocking him and Sirius snorting out a laugh.
You smile up at him, he is truly beautiful inky curls fall into his face as he looks down at you. His golden glasses frame his hazel eyes. His eyes always remind you of home. Your dream home. Some comfortable cottage near the woods where you would one day settle down with somebody, you don't know who but someone that fits the scene like James would.
"What was your question, potter?" He raises his eyebrows in surprise, looking at you like you just told him you saw a flying pig. "Potter?"
You feel a giddy feeling spread in your body and a few small chuckles leave your mouth while asking, "that is your name, no?"
James starts laughing with you, he doesn't know why he's laughing but he can't help it. He feels ever not laughing along with you would be a crime. He tries to pretend he's pouting over the name but it truly does sound beautiful out of your mouth. He loves it when you say his name.
"It's Jamie to you"
You whine, confusing James even more. Since when did you stop liking that nickname? Is he going to have to settle for James? It doesn't feel as personal, everyone calls him James. The other girls call him Potter and the boys call him Prongs. Only you call him Jamie and he'd quite like to keep hearing it.
"But Potter is such a nice last name, I wish I had that kind of name." You sigh, as you let the name sit on your tongue, Y/N Potter. It really is pretty. It feels fitting like you've just found the last piece of a puzzle you've already given up on under the couch.
James smirks down at you and starts stroking your hair, "Yeah, you like it?"
You hum in agreement, before closing your eyes and letting yourself melt into his lap. The comforting warmth of his fingers when they start massaging your scalp again removing all the tension from your body.
"If you want... you can have it."
"That would be nice. But how? I mean nothing against your parents but I don't want to be adopted. I like my parents already and what other way would there be?"
You hear James chuckle and murmur a small "You'll see."
#fluff#headcanon#marauders#marauders headcanon#marauders era#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter headcanon#james potter fluff#james potter x reader
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Idk if this is even enough for a request but I would love to see poly marauders w a reader who takes extremely hot showers, like maybe she’s already in the shower when the boys come home and they go to join her but start squealing and they jump back out, pouting at her about “it’s too hot! You’re boiling, you’re going to pass out in there” etc. I just think it’s funny and I love a good hot shower. (Bonus pts for plus size reader!! Not sure how that would be important but I’d love it if it was!)
Thanks for requesting sweetheart! I couldn't really find a way to make it plus!size reader without describing her body a lot but that felt sort of weird and I ended up cutting most of it, so unfortunately it's only plus!size reader if you squint a bit
cw: non-sexual (okay, some sexual, but it's only lightly implied) nudity
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 628 words
Steam whooshes out of the bathroom when James opens the door. The mirror is completely fogged up and he’s immediately warm, but that’s alright, because he’s shrugging off his shirt anyway.
“Hi, angel,” he calls over the spray.
“Jamie?” Your voice echoes off the tile a second before your head pokes out past the curtain. “When did you get home?”
“Just now, but Sirius and Rem are already in the kitchen making dinner.” Well, Remus is making dinner. Sirius is providing commentary. “Can I join you in there?”
Your smile comes quick and devious, water dripping from your chin. “Sure you can.”
James hurries out of his pants and socks, pulling aside the curtain. “Alright, scoot ov—ah!” He hardly gets one leg under the spray before he’s jumping back. “Shit that’s hot! What the hell, lovie? Are you trying to cauterize yourself?”
You laugh like he’s overreacting, which James knows for certain he is not. Steams pours out so thickly from behind the curtain it’s a wonder there’s any water left to wash yourself with that hasn’t instantly evaporated. “What’s wrong with a hot shower?” you ask.
James doesn’t know how to answer that. “Hot” doesn’t even begin to describe the temperatures you’re subjecting yourself to. He hears footsteps in the hall, and a second later Sirius is opening the door, Remus behind him.
“Did someone yell?”
“Yeah, me,” James says, accusatory, “when I nearly had the skin scorched clean off my leg.”
Sirius raises a single brow. “That scream was awful girlish, Prongs. You sure it was you?”
“Prick,” James laughs. “Go on, feel the water. It’s like she’s punishing herself in there!”
Remus steps past Sirius, sticking his hand under the showerhead. His eyebrows raise, and he draws it back (albeit with much more dignity than James had withdrawn, but he’d been caught by surprise). “That really is quite warm, dove. I can barely hold my hand under there, how’re you doing it with your whole body?”
You shrug, turning towards them, and it occurs to James that he and you are both naked while your other two boyfriends are fully clothed. There was a time where you would’ve tried to hide yourself from them in this state, and he’s hit with a rush of gratitude that that time has passed. Still, he doesn’t quite like the look of you like this, steam rising off your body as water that may as well be magma slides over your curves. James can’t believe you when you say that doesn’t hurt.
“It’s nice,” you say, like some kind of psychopath. “I don’t know, I like it.”
“Sweetheart, you could pass out from heat like this,” Remus frets.
“Is it really that bad?” Sirius is skeptical, until Remus presses the palm that he’d held in the water to his face. His eyes widen. “Fuck, how can you stand that, babe?”
“You guys are wimps,” you tell them, rolling your eyes. “It’s cold outside, and I fancied a hot shower. Sue me.”
“But this is more than hot,” Remus says. James nods ardently. “You’re really telling me you don’t even feel lightheaded?”
“I don’t,” you promise, but James isn’t having it. He pulls the curtain aside, gripping the fat of your hip (“Fuck, Jamie, you’re freezing!”) to reach around you and adjust the water temperature.
“There,” he says. “Let it cool down a bit, and you won’t melt your brain, plus I’ll be able to get in with you. Okay?”
Remus nods satisfiedly, hurrying back towards the kitchen to attend to whatever he’s likely left on the stove, but you pout. “It’s going to be cold,” you complain.
“I’ll be in there with you,” James reminds you, grinning when you brighten. “I’ll make sure you don’t get too cold, lovie.”
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders fluff#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders one shot#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#sirius black#remus lupin#james potter x reader#sirius black x reader#remus lupin x reader#the marauders#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#hp marauders
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This post is uh, extremely normal I swear
So hello yes I am absolutely On My Bullshit regarding my new favourite game.
That’s right, it’s the cannibal incest game, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley. And I’m here to shove five thousand words of pretentious analysis down your throat because, and I do not exaggerate, I think it is one of, if not the best written game I have ever played. And I have played a lot of games, including Baldur’s Gate 3, Final Fantasy XIV and Undertale, to name a few narrative luminaries to come to mind.
That wordcount is not an exaggeration. My brainworms are extremely powerful and now you can share them with me as I walk you through my insane skyscraper of inference-driven analysis.
Or you can click away. I really wouldn’t blame you, it’s quite a lot.
Content Warnings: …Yes?
(To drop the bit for a moment, The Coffin of Andy and Leyley covers extremely disturbing material and challenges you to examine aspects of living in this world that many have taken for granted all their life, it is not a comfortable game, this will cover similar topics and will often echo the game’s unremitting scepticism on basic principles of society and humanity and you should look after yourself first. My Content Warning is framed as a joke, but it’s also quite real in that the game is designed to make you uncomfortable and there’s no shame in that not being for you.)
This was originally posted on and formatted for Sufficient Velocity, and you can probably more easily read and discuss it with me here.
With that said, let’s dig in. I have had to split this into multiple posts because tumblr will only allow so many images. There will be spoilers for all endings.
She’s excited, are you?
It’s All About Ashley
It really is, isn’t it? I mean, for approximately eighty percent of the total game as currently released and the entirety of Episode 1, you’re in control of Ashley, just as she’s in control of her and Andrew’s relationship for 80% of the game, up until the various ending sequences where it begins to slip. The only other characters who really matter at all in and of themselves are Andrew and her mother — and the former is under her thumb, and she eats the latter. It’s all about Ashley. Even her obsession with Andrew is, ultimately, about Ashley.
But who is Ashley? What is Ashley? Why is Ashley, even? Let’s take a look.
Ashley as presented to us in Episode 1 is very straightforward, so let’s list off the traits we’re given — she is malicious, she is fearless, she lacks empathy, she doesn’t have anything resembling a conscience, she demands Andrew belong to her and her alone, she has him at her beck and call.
In Episode 2, we’re ostensibly shown how she has him at her beck and call— she leverages the threat of reporting Nina’s death over him and had him swear to be with her forever. We’re shown that even as a child she was “just, like that” — but as a child, she hadn’t learnt to live with it yet, to laugh at the farce of it all.
Yeah, exactly like that!
And she does this throughout Episode 1 — The Coffin of Andy and Leyley is a remarkably silly game much of the time, finding moments of absurdity and levity against a backdrop blacker than pitch — and most of the time, your internal narration is coming from Ashley and the jokes will not-infrequently come at her own expense.
She will later get negged by her human sacrifice for her poor ritual circle drawing
Her reaction to being told that her soul is as dark and viscous as tar is “You guess you already knew that” — it’s confirmation to her, not new information. Ashley knows who she is. But who taught her this? There’s layers to this, nothing in this game is as simple and straightforward as it appears at first sight, which is why I’ve been obsessing over it for days.
While it’s common in fiction, the truth of the matter is, most ‘bad people’ really do think they’re good people. But Ashley has never once thought of herself as a good person — or perhaps better put as a person worthy of love — as we learn across Episodes 1 & 2, with our flashbacks to Andy and Leyley and the VERY VERY QUIET!!!
I really wish I had space in this essay to talk about this, but I’d like to touch on these being traits usually more easily forgiven in young boys than young girls at some point.
If she removes all other options, only then can she expect him to like her.
This is something that is echoed in the modern day — her seeming self-assurance is easily shaken and she reaches out to the world — usually Andrew — to affirm and validate her, soothing her insecurities, using any tool she deems necessary. Even when her life is on the line when Andrew has her by the throat at the climax of Episode 1, the only ‘compelling reason’ she can give Andrew to not kill her is her ability to soothe his nightmares. When he tells her there are sleeping pills for that…
Most people would have a bit more to argue for their existence.
While she, unlike Andrew, acknowledges having had friends before the quarantine… you know she’s got a point that they didn’t even bother to answer her calls, that was clearly not something the state was interfering with given Andrew’s calls with his mother and his girlfriend, and given her general demeanour it’s not hard to imagine that… they weren’t ever very close. When we see her and Nina talk in the infamous ‘box scene’, it’s clear that Nina doesn’t like her very much, despite Andrew’s assessment of Nina as being one of Ashley’s friends.
We see further support for her general lack of companionship in her dream sequence in the Burial route — Leyley and Leyley Alone. No matter what you do, you can’t place the pink plushy at the family table, the flowers won’t bloom if you give the Julia and Nina plushies her own as a companion instead of Andrew’s — and if you’re bold enough to go for the ‘incest route’, in the ‘Love’ room you see that no one ever looks happy to be with her in the childlike depictions of her history, nor is she happy in turn, save for when she’s with Andrew. In a bit of heavy-handed metaphor, the player then overwrites all of these tense, upset, hard moments with Andrew, having him fill in for everyone else in life — and happy with her.
Once Upon A Lousy Life…
THE END
And that’s why she needs him to affirm her, because no one else ever has and no one else ever will. It’s even included in their comic beats — when the siblings are getting along well, they’ll often play a game where Andrew dramatically overpraises Ashley while she demands more; it’s a comedic bit but I mean — it really does matter to her!
For the record, she opened a door. She gets a little heart in a speech bubble after this exchange.
We have a great example of this dynamic, that of insecurity and affirmation, in Episode 1, after Andrew has killed for her, butchered for her, his girlfriend broke up with her, he’s seemingly thrown his entire life away for her… she’s still insecure over her relationship with him, she’s uncertain of her control and she needs him to reaffirm it for her.
This is her victory, surely?
Andrew affirms her once, with his usual dead-eyed look.
But she's still not so sure.
He actively reaches out to affirm her again with cheer.
Look how happy she is!
While it’s most obvious and clear cut here, it’s hardly the only case. Let’s look back to the aftermath of Andy and Leyley and the VERY VERY QUIET!!! (I’m not using the other name). Leyley is, after similarly extreme acts — he murdered a girl and hid her body for her — convinced Andy doesn’t like her and she needs this leverage to keep him around, to meet her basic needs for survival. Because that’s what this is — she receives no care of affection elsewhere, so she forces it out of the only source she sees available through the means she sees as necessary.
I really hope we see some of their earlier childhood in Episode 3
What exactly made her like this? Was it just neglect, or something more specific…
She needs this to be the case because otherwise she doesn’t believe he’d stay.
This pattern repeats throughout — Ashley’s insecurities are hit on and she reaches out to Andy to affirm that she is not alone, and she will use any and every tool to exploit her ostensible control over him and force him to be what she needs him to be — and as long as she has that, as long as she is everything to him and it’s not possible for him to leave, she’s happy. As long as she thinks he loves her in her very particular, very peculiar view of love, she’s content, come what may. As long as Andy and Leyley are together, they can take on the world.
Let’s talk about that view of love, because there’s always more layers to unpack here I’m only scratching the surface with this essay — Ashley consistently refers to anyone else Andrew may have befriended or spent time with as a whore, a slut, a bitch — highly gendered insults that bring to mind the idea that he’s cheating in some way. But it’s not even about sex — when Andrew mentions that their parents had friends, she accuses them of cheating on each other in the same way!
There’s a lot to unpack about Ashley’s view of femininity and the role the patriarchy plays in their relationship.
Any kind of emotional engagement, any kind of commitment, any kind of life outside of your significant other is, to Ashley, cheating. Because that’s what she needs from Andrew, a seeming complete and total commitment, secure in her place as the only thing in his life, because she cannot understand anyone picking her if they have a choice.
This insecurity she has in her relationship is what drives her to empower the trinket — he can’t leave her as long as she can protect him with prophetic dreams, after all. She needs every kind of leverage she can get because until she succeeds in being everything to him, in devouring him so completely she has him in her thrall mind, body and soul she can’t be sure of herself — hell, her dream sequence in Burial has you placing Andrew’s signature green plushy, ‘the best thing in the world’ in a cage far away from anything else.
Ultimately, it really is all about Ashley — even her seeming obsession with Andrew ultimately comes back to her own insecurities. If she is everything to ‘the best thing in the world’, some of that ‘best’ must surely reflect on her!
But that’s enough about the more normal, straightforward and understandable sibling.
That was not a joke.
Andrew’s Rank 100 Deception
The greatest trick the Devil ever pulled was convincing the world that he did not exist.
Let me explain.
You might have noticed that in the previous section I often use language such as ‘ostensibly’ or ‘seemingly’ to describe Andy and Leyley’s relationship, and there’s a good reason for that. From the beginning of the game through to its end, Andrew is lying to you, the player, without ever falsely representing or misinforming you about events that occurred.
The common, or obvious ‘initial take’ on Andrew as presented in Episode 1 is fairly straightforward. The game primes you to think this way, it frames things and strings reveals just right so as to make it very easy to overlook the incongruities it introduces in Episode 2. He’s a victim. Plain and simple, Ashley is his abuser and he is her victim and would be fine, a normal albeit kinda depressed guy without her.
It really is not a difficult conclusion to draw
You can go all the way through the game, have him try to accept his mother’s olive branch and enter the Decay route as a method for him to finally actualise his desire to get out from Ashley’s thumb and it makes sense, it’s a reasonable way for the story to go, given his character.
You see him this way because the game primes you in Episode 1 to view their relationship like Andrew does — he’s lying. He’s lying to himself, he’s lying to Ashley and he’s so good at it — Deception Rank 100 — he even lies to you. Without misrepresenting a single event or otherwise misleading you directly, the game gets you to buy into his preferred self-perception. Nina? Ashley. Julia? Ashley. The murders they commit in the course of the game? Ashley, Ashley, Ashley, it’s not his fault he’s not to blame he’s just a doormat at the beck and call of his demonic sister.
But he wants to be there. From the very outset, the very first puzzle, that’s made clear. Does anyone else remember this exchange, from right at the beginning of the game?
Ashley wants to investigate the music!
Andrew disapproves…
…Or does he?!
Like. Listen. Okay. You do not frown when saying ‘Nope’ and then smile when saying that you’ll instead tag along if they do it if your heart is at all in the no. That’s not an objection, that’s using Ashley as his excuse. Especially if you immediately throw her the balcony key that she could not possibly have gotten from you by force (more on Andrew’s ability to use force later).
This is the very first time you control both characters together with Andrew following Ashley instead of off on his own, the first adventure, the first puzzle!
But put a pin in that for now, let’s talk about his initial framing in Episode 2 first. Episode 1 has set us up to, generally speaking, believe the superficial framing of the siblings as portrayed in its promotional art:
The question that we then ask, right at the heart of it is… why is he a doormat? We explore this in his dream sequence in Episode 2, which does make it clear that the boy’s not okay but— it’s real easy, given the priming from Episode 1 to make you think that he’s the one with the originally functional moral compass, to think that that him being fucked up is damage done to him by Nina’s death and being bound to Ashley for his entire life. She corrupted him.
But, well, is that the case?
You're primed to ignore this as manipulation (which it is) but the best manipulation has some truth to it.
Precisely two things spur Andrew to action in the entire game, consistently — they are the fear of consequences and Ashley. And the first incident of that fear, the very first time we’re shown his seeming moral compass as a kid — the first time it’s really hammered home that it’s a fear of consequences rather than any true moral qualms is after Nina’s death. And why does he fear consequences here?
……
The ‘natural’ read that many take away from this sequence, particularly those who have only played Decay, is that Ashley browbeat him into doing this against his will, using emotional blackmail to overwhelm his objections, and then used the event itself to bind him to her forever as her personal doormat.
In a strict sense, this is true. But this doesn’t match up with the details, something the game uses shock to encourage you to overlook. That outburst is before any kind of threat has been made, and absolutely nothing either of them say anything about it being morally bad until Ashley weaponises ‘you’re a bad person’ against Andrew — morality didn’t seem to enter his mind or the equation at all until Ashley brought it up. More than that, his greatest fear and driving motivation even prior to that is, as shown above, being taken away from Ashley.
She, of course, recognises this and uses it against him. But she never needed to, it didn’t change anything about Andrew’s attachment to her, it was there to address her own insecurities.
Just like to touch on how a lot of his affirmations are preceded by him confirming her insecurities.
I adore this phrasing
There’s a second prong to this as well, to the question of ‘who really calls the shots here’ because — Andrew can, at any stage, apply an ‘ultimate veto’ of physical violence. The game is very clear to the player that that is on the table — even when they were children, when Andy swears their blood oath, he briefly considers killing her — and take note of how he ultimately got a ‘winning’ condition out of her by not specifying there wouldn’t be others and she is forced to accept that, there. Even outside of their most serious confrontations, Ashley is portrayed as having to convince, manipulate or otherwise coerce Andrew into going along with her schemes — she really can’t make him do anything, she doesn’t have the supremacy in violence and, to a lesser extent, capability that would allow her to.
Andrew, you are like ten years old.
The truth of the matter is, Ashley can only make Andrew do anything because he lets her. I don’t mean in the sense that I’m saying abuse victims let their abusers emotionally abuse them, I mean in the sense that he is clearly considering his options on the table and choosing to discard those that could stop her, or bring an end to any of this. He needs her.
But it’s true that he hates her, too. He has to hate her, because if he doesn’t hate her, if he isn’t forced to have done this, that means… he’s responsible. And nothing, at the start of the story, is as important to Andrew as avoiding the consequences of his own actions, not even Ashley. By the midpoint, he loves her, he hates her, he can’t live without her, he wants to kill her — by the end… well, that depends if you’re on Decay or Burial, but more on that in a bit.
A great scene to study for this dynamic is the climax of Episode 1, when Andrew grabs Ashley by the throat and considers strangling her to death. She’s pushed him too far with hurtful words and assault, and he’s seemingly had enough.
It’s still framed as a question of risk, of consequences happening to him.
Like, this is not the usual behaviour of someone who’s been pushed past their breaking point.
He tells Ashley that he wants to kill her, because she’s just going to throw another fit and that’s a risk to him. She is… not framed as being able to fight back (she does have a gun here, and more on that in a later essay, maybe). He’s so calculated in how he approaches his use of violence here, which isn’t at all what you’d expect of someone about to commit a crime of passion… but it’s very easy to overlook because of the abuser/victim narrative that the player fits his behaviour into the narrative that the game primes them to accept, brushing incongruities under the carpet.
At the start of Episode 2, we get to control Andrew for the first time, and the first obvious holes in his cover start to show. Some of this is optional — you only learn that he’s been faking having nightmares in order to share a bed with Ashley if you choose to go back into the motel room and check the bed, for example — but not all of it.
----(See reblogs for the second half)
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And so, the stars aligned. Pt. 2
Azriel x Archeron!Sister reader
Summary: Azriel knew you can't read. And he knows you would never admit it. So he tricks you into taking reading lessons.
Warnings: Slight mentions of nightmares.
part one part three, Part Four
Masterlist
Requests are open!!
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
You had come into your room to grab something. And had lost every train of thought as you saw the note neatly placed on top of the book you carted around for show- not quite sloppy hand writing but it was clearly male and in a rush. A...stick figure drawing of you? Clearly Feyre had not drawn this. But there is an attention to detail, your hair is colored correctly, and your eyes also the right shade- or as close as you could get in crayon. Truthfully, it could have been anyone female but since it was in your room, it was safe to assume. And then a book- the library? Is that where this mystery would be solved. You were far too curious now to just not go.
And so, you folded the note up and put in into one of your pockets. Heading down there quickly. The only sound as you enter is the clicking of your shoes. Looking around you, and making your way over to Clotho's desk. The priest doesn’t look up at you but quickly writes, 'Ah, y/n to what do we owe the pleasure?'
You smile and pull out the note to show it to her. "It seems- I was summoned." Clotho's amusement oozes off her and she simple writes.
'Go down to level five and you should find what you're looking for.' Squinting suspiciously at her for just a second you debate listening. But that is your inner Nesta speaking, and as much as you loved your oldest sister you didn't want to be completely like her. So, complying with a general order wouldn’t be an issue.
Thanking Clotho quickly you make your way down to the fifth level. And you could have throttled Azriel as he looked over at you with a set of children's books, letter sheets and pencils. He was leisurely sitting there, legs crossed, his ankle resting on his thigh. Arms crossed as he looked at you. And knowing him, while his face remained neutral- he had a feline smirk just like Rhys’s on the inside. Stomping over, crossing your arms and glaring down at the Illyrian man you hiss, "What are you doing?"
"Teaching you how to read." He answers simply, not even slightly phased by your intense gaze. The shadows that normally linger around him aren’t there, instead- as if to mock how little of a threat you are- they pool at his feet like a dog. You'd have to talk to Nesta about getting that icy glare down pat.
"You're still on about that?" You scuff, turning on your heel to leave him with his silly ideas. But before you can get far, a gentle but rough hand grabs your elbow.
"If you can read, then I'll accept I was wrong and even buy you dinner." Azriel compromises. But he knew better, he saw the way your eyes glazed over when they looked at your book and there was no rhyme or reason as to when you flipped the page. Normally people had consistency when they were reading, You had none. Even when Nesta was reading smut there was consistency to it- albeit the page turns got faster but it was still consistent.
You were convinced you could do this. You didn't need him to know this about you. Not even your sisters knew- sure Nesta and Elain probably had inklings to it but you were just six when poverty struck. They were just kids too, it wasn't there job to teach you. Sitting down at the table you looked at the page. It was easy- just trace the letters. You could do that. So you picked up the pencil and started. And once you were done you slid it over to him. "See?"
He nods, taking the sheet and looking it over. Nodding as he examines the work. Then he sets it down and meets your intense eyes, but he doesn't shy away. He takes the first book off the stack. It was a young child's book- it should be a breeze for someone of your age. Prick. You think as he slides it over and folds his hands on the table. Watching the way your eyes widen. Your breathing hitches and there's a slight tremble to your hands as you take the book. He knows that look in your eyes- it's the one Feyre gets when she's calculating a plan. And he couldn't deny that he was slightly excited to see what you'd come up with.
Flipping open the book you know what he's probably looking for is some sortive consistency, so you'd let your eyes look at each word and then flip the page. And so, that's what you did. Finding it hard to keep up your little deception with his eyes focused so intensely on you. But you got to the end of the book and closed it with a triumphant smack. Looking back up at him- before you can open your mouth to speak, Azriel looks at you and asks. "What was it about?"
Shit. Fuck. You didn't look at the pictures! You quickly look down at the book and see a dog and a young boy on the cover. "Its about a dog and his owner." You say as evenly as you can manage for how fast your heart was beating. Azriel raises an eyebrow. Silently waiting for more. "When did you get so expressive?" You ask to quickly change the subject.
"I don't have to be on guard here. There is no one else around. And the priestess won't judge me for showing an emotion." He addresses your question simply, smoothly. Damn him and his stupid sliver tongue. He was the Shadowsinger! Of course he knew how to evade topics and questions to redirect to what he wanted! He taps the book in between the two of you again. And you look at his hands, scars running all along them, and of course you had know that. But it was the first time that you saw them this clearly. And as much as you wanted to get out of this situation- you knew that question was out of the question. "What is this about?" His voice remains gentle, but slightly stern.
Azriel watches you for any signs. He had seen many of them- you were a bad liar. Your emotions written all over your face. Your eyes, they showed everything. How no one else saw it astonished him. And for a second, as he watches how you look down at the book with apprehension and sorrow, that you quickly wash away once your gazes meet again...he sees your resolve break.
"Fine." You say quietly. "I can't read." Your cheeks heat at the confession- it felt so...so...mortifying that you were now twenty, an immortal High Fae and had no idea how to read. "Please don't tell the others." The last thing you wanted was for your sisters to look at you with that pitiful look they always seemed to give you when you mentioned something. Let alone, how awful it make you feel if Nesta fell back into her vices. Granted you knew Cassian wouldn’t let that happen.
He thinks his heart might just burst for a moment. Seeing you so somber. Azriel had watched you from the second you were dumped out of that Cauldron. Shaking, crying, gasping for air. The first thing you did was try and push it over so your sisters wouldn’t bare the same fate. And for the first few weeks after, when he heard your screams in the middle of the night. He'd make sure you were alright, given you the space to talk to him if needed. You rarely took the opportunity. Pushing him away despite him reaching out. Keeping him at an arms length for reasons he didn’t understand. Time, though. Everyone kept telling him with time, you’d come around. But you pushed him right into Elain. Not that he hated your older sister. No, far from it. They were good friends, they could talk for hours about anything and everything. But she wasn't you. She wasn't his. She had her mate, and Rhys has made it clear to him that despite his feelings toward her- they could never be. Lucian wouldn't accept it until she flat out rejected him, and even then they had no idea what the other male would do. Rhys didn't want to loose his brother over a girl. And while Azriel grumbled and snarled at him, deep down. He knew that he was right.
But watching you, moving through the Night Court with a smile that didn't reach your eyes and a grace that rivaled Elain's...Hearing your laugh in a crowed room and smiling into his drink. He knew that you made yourself seem happy, chipper, played the part of the sweet younger sister for everyone. So looking at you now, as your cheeks burn red and tears threaten to spill out of your eyes. He'd do anything he could to make sure you'd never look like that again. Azriel gently takes your hand, letting his thumb swipe over your knuckles as you look up at him. "I won't tell a soul."
And you believe him. The sincerity in his eyes, he's got no reason to lie to you. But you can't help the smile that creeps up. "Thank you."
And a comfortable silence falls as you both continue to look at each other and let your thoughts run free. Before Azriel clears his throat- and you were about 87% sure that there was a blush creeping in. "I can continue to teach you, if you'd like."
Looking down at the book in between you, where your hand was still in his. Tracing the lines of his scars gently, you nodded. "I think i'd like that."
Azriel didn't bother to hide his smile.
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────
a/n: This got very long, very fast. But I hope you all like it! Let me know if there is anything else you guys wanna see! And if y’all wanna be added to the tag list, let me know! :3
tag list: @sidthedollface2 @cat-or-kitten @impossibelle @brunette-barbie1220 @scatteredstardustt @sammanna @cherry-cin @tele86 @judig92
#azriel x reader#acotar series#acotar fanart#acotar#azriel spymaster#azriel acotar#azriel shadowsinger#feyre x rhysand#feyre archeron#nesta x cassian#nesta archeron#pro nesta#nesta acotar#elain x lucien#elain archeron#pro elain
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𑊡˚+₊🍼✦ — oh baby ! + katsuki bakugou.
૮ ͈>◡< ͈ა warnings — fluff, suggestive but no smut, minors dni, mentions of trying for a baby, love-sick!bakugou can’t resist your baby fever.
“if we had a baby, what would you name it?”
bakugou peers at you from over his phone, dark brows drawn together in the centre of his forehead while he frowns lightly. the pair of you are lounging about on a colder afternoon, him on his back on the couch— shirt riding up a little — and you between his legs and lying on his tummy.
“we’re not having a baby—“ he can tell by your sharp in-take of breath and the pout that ensues that he’s fucked up— quick to lock his phone with a click of the power button before grabbing the roundness of your face between his rough fingers, holding you with care. “yet. we’re not havin’ one yet.”
the smile that returns to your face is almost instantaneous— gleaming like a higher being has struck stars and galaxies into your eyes and magic into your grin. “why not?” you ask, cheekily licking katsuki’s hand now that you’ve got his attention.
“‘cause you’re my baby. don’t need’a ‘nother one to take care of while you’re around.” the blonde grimaces at the trail of saliva you leave against his palm— groaning in disgust as he wipes it on your shirt (the one that he lent you) as if he doesn’t enjoy watching you slobber all over his fingers during your nightly round in the sheets. “babies drool. you keep fuckin’ droolin’ on me. can’t deal with two people droolin’ on me—“
“would you want one? a baby?”
he’s still in the middle of complaining when you ask, your voice wistful like you’ve been daydreaming and you draw heart shapes on the patch of bakugou’s skin that’s been exposed by his tank top riding up.
“what’s gotten into you? talkin’ about babies ‘n shit…you sneakin’ off to see those todoroki triplets again?”
“it was the midoriyas this time…and i’m serious!” you swat at his chest, a little less gentle and a ripple of love shoots through katsuki at the sound of your angelic laughter. “don’t you think we’re ready, kats? i mean we’d both be great parents…”
he sits up a little, ruby red eyes narrowed into slits, head full of straw blonde hair tilted in curiosity. you can’t help but wonder what your kids would look like with a mix of your genetics. “you seriously want a kid?” bakugou says quietly, inquisitively, cautiously— scared to spook you as if you’re a deer in headlights.
you nod.
you’d want that…with him? “why?”
“‘cause i think…now would be a good time?” ringing your fingers, you toy with stray strings of your clothes and the fabric on katsuki’s, heat rushing to your face. “i mean…you’re set to take over best jeanist’s agency and my career with hawks is going great. we’re well off, married, your mom won’t stop bugging me about grand-babies—“
“don’t bring my ma into this, she don’t exactly inspire fuckin’ you so that we can make a baby—“
“— and i want to. start a family. with you…i want a family of baby katsuki’s and baby me’s running around and clambering onto you when you get home from patrol.” there’s that tone again, dreamy and excited— your face glowing with the possibilities of parenthood. “sometimes i imagine what our cosy Saturday’s would be like, little ones curled up on the couch with me while you make us breakfast. i can’t help but wonder how happy we’d be…i want a baby with you, katsuki.”
silence filters through the room, sunlight fluttering your skin and filling the room with love along with warmth as bakugou weighs up the choice. “if we’re having a baby, we’re naming it somethin’ with meaning.” he mumbled after sometime, looking away from you with a blush.
katsuki still can’t quite wrap his head around how much you love and want a future with him.
“like, katsuko? it means victorious child.” you suggest as if you’d been thinking of the name for your child the entire time.
it rolls off your tongue smoothly, like butter, similar to katsuki’s own first name— it too having a strong meaning. you’d really wanted this with him, dreamed up a whole life with your husband and future baby.
“katsuko. that’s a good one, i like that name.” the blonde grins, sitting up fully as he tugs you into his lap with a slow and steady smile. “close to mine, no doubt the kid’ll be a winner like you.”
“so you want one, a baby. with me?” you giggle, mirroring his expression while bakugou’s rough hands slip under your shirt to squeeze at your ass, pinch at your curves— hunger brewing hotly between you both.
“yeah, now roll over. if we wanna bring katsuko into the world we gotta start baby makin’ somehow…”
“katsuki!”
#bakugou x reader#bakugou x you#bakugou fluff#bakugou drabble#bakugou imagines#bakugo x reader#bakugo x you#bakugo fluff#bnha x reader#bnha fluff#bnha imagine#katsuki bakugou x reader#✧ ₊˚੭ — writing#tteokdoroki#✧ ₊˚💭੭ — aali just posted
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will byers, the resident sniper and medic - apoc au details under the cut!
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will's role in the party:
a scouter - stays back to watch over the area during runs w/his rifle and is a backup supply runner if need be. just prefers to scout with dustin and mike
medic - normally takes care of the group regarding injuries and medicine. is very gentle :)
the angel on mike's shoulder -> knows how to placate mike the best if mike's being unreasonable or too harsh
most knowledgable about the infection and how it works -> helps with understanding the patterns of infected people, what attracts infection, etc.
party mediator - rarely ever fights with anyone (mostly with mike haha) and is usually the person people most often go to for a vent or a rant
skills + hobbies:
best with a rifle + second best with guns! -> he practices a lot with lucas but refuses to kill animals
cook of the group along with el (taught her how to cook): rest of the party can make edible food but don't know how to make it taste good
great knowledge of plants and medicine -> jonathan and joyce taught him all they know about it (they are healers)
draws in a sketchbook that mike stole from another group for him: filled with mundane sketches from life and treats it like a daily journal
likes to collect cds and cassettes that he finds around to play in the car (him and max discuss music the most) - fave bands include system of a down, gorillaz, the clash and the cure :) he's an alt rock fan!
quirks / fun facts:
him and lucas have an ongoing competition that started with their aim and is now based on literally anything -> they've been keeping score since they were nine (lucas is currently up by ten and the points are in the thousands)
will shuffles different music in the car and observes who in the party likes what so he can make his own little mental playlists for them!
him and dustin talk a lot about how the infection works. they have some very intense debates about it, especially when it comes to if the infected still have human consciousness or not (will thinks they do, dustin thinks they don't)
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other notes: canon will, in a short summary, is a very sweet, sensitive, empathetic and capable boy who consistently puts others needs before his own :') of course, i wanted apoc will to share those attributes, with a big emphasis on his empathy, strength, and kindness.
first - i wanted him to be a medic to show how he cares about other people and how he helps the people he loves as well. it's shown a lot in the show how much he cares for people and living beings (see: his actions with dart, el, mike, feeling bad for jonathan's hand after he had just woken up, etc.) and him being a healer is very in tune with this behavior. will as a healer is very special to me :') and him learning this skill from his mom and his brother strengthens the theme of family also!
second - him being good with a hunting rifle was to showcase his quiet strength and capability (i'd also like to add that his dexterity on his dnd sheet is extremely high) -> he's a non-confrontational survivor. his strength shines from afar and is put on the backlight, but no one in the party thinks will is weak for his empathy. mike and lucas, in particular, are actually quite jealous of the fact that will is still able to see so much good in humanity and life while being so strong.
of course, his connection to the upside down in st is mirrored in this au as well, where he has an innate understanding of how the infection works because of experience, observation and other story spoilers...
looking at the current poll results, it seems im going to be drawing lucas and max next :D see you for that!
#imma be real honest and say that i only made will like gorillaz because i fucking love gorillaz#will byers#byler#stranger things#stranger things fanart#st apoc au#sammi's art
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