#let me disappear back into the abyss | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chococolte · 10 months

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☼ — pietas maris

♱ : my take on sagau childe

including ☆! — him as a worshiper, and his reaction to being your lover ⛧

word count. 5.6k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious + cult themes, cult au, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl. ୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. now time for me to disappear back into the aether for another 6 months

The abyss is cold.

It is unfeeling, lacking warmth and passion. It is relentless, cruel, and unkind. It corrupts, ruins, and does so freely, without remorse or thought. It leaves you clinging to the hot blood in your veins, curled up and hidden in the dark reaches of its void.

Childe had always been versatile; quick to adapt, even at such a young age. He grew used to the emptiness, the swelling numbness, and the eventual gnawing loneliness left in his abdomen. They became a part of him as his lungs, as integral as air; to be without felt odd, foreign.

The glimmer of your existence kept Childe company. He did not know who you were, or how lucky he was— only that you brought him comfort, like an old lullaby, or a blanket worn from overuse. He reached for you when the darkness grew too much, too heavy a burden on his small shoulders.

He came to you with little offerings; small trinkets, tomes of unreadable text. Useless to him, but perhaps you would take pity on him in exchange, and let him take comfort in your presence for another day. Childe came to you with rubble shaped in hearts, the gentle breath of his voice as he spoke of his anxieties. He did not think of them as offerings then, merely gifts— pleadings for you to stay a little longer.

His hands, then unruined and soft, made you a makeshift altar crafted out of whatever he could find. He made sure to build it where he felt your whispers were strongest, where your light entirely overwhelmed the darkness overhead. Childe didn't think of it as an altar then, just a place to settle his findings, where he could pretend his sad, little effigy made of you was actually you.

The idol didn't look much like a person at all, and at the time, he didn't think of his behavior as odd. He desperately clung to you for survival, and with no other warm body besides his own, you were the only one he could talk too.

At times, he thought he was going insane. There was a pleasant buzzing in his ears whenever he neared your doll, as if it were calling him. Despite the fact that he had made it, proven by the tiny scars on his palms, he still felt as if it was yours.

In the darkness, Childe whispered to you. He said everything his mind could think, childishly exaggerated tales in hopes of impressing you. A foolish endeavor, considering you were a God— but he still hoped that maybe you'd think of him kindly, and let him bask in your protective glow for just one more moment.

He couldn't hear your words, but he could feel them. The twinkle of your laughter was like a soft whistle in his ears. When you were pleased, the air would lightly ruffle his hair. Despite how agonizing his loneliness was, at least he had you by his side.

Childe's innocence, as all things do, eventually withered away in that malevolent black.

He thought of you as his teacher; a guiding hand that trained him, molded him to fit against your palm. When he struggled against the abyssal beasts, he could feel you— a soft brush against his hand, a firm hold on his back, keeping him focused. You taught him when to still his blade and when to strike.

In the arches of his sword and polearm, in the taut and tense pull of his bow, in the whirlwind of his catalyst— you were there, shining from beyond the thin veil separating you.

When Childe was ripped out of the abyss, so was his connection to you. Like a thread snapping, he could no longer feel you; not in the darkness overhead, not in the grip of his blade, of the depths of his soul. You were gone, and he was once again nothing but a boy, lost and alone. Friends and family surround him, thankful for his return, but his mind is still reeling, still stuck in the abyss and the sudden emptiness left in your wake.

Despite himself, Childe had hoped you would have stayed, even once he was out. He thought he was done with being naïve, but that clearly wasn't the case.

He can’t feel you anymore. Where did you go? Why did you leave? What did he do wrong? Questions swirl in his head like whirlpools of thought. Childe feels like he's drowning, suffocating in the mess of his mind. His breaths come out short, quick and sharp. His throat squeezes, constricting his airways, as he realizes what's unfolded.

You left him.

He should've known better. On that first day, all you had done was take pity on him by letting him linger in your light. It was his fault for ever believing that he would never have to be alone again. That even if he had no one else, at least he had you.

This was the result of his own failure. If only he had proven himself worthy.

When his family found him, they found him gripping a small, rudimentary doll. Even when they reached their home, Childe was still clutching the thing as if possessed. When they tried tugging it out of his hands, saying it would help him eat better, he ripped it from their grasp, holding it to his chest.

Childe couldn't accept that you had left him so easily. At night, back in his warm bed, Childe tries to whisper to you again. The familiar warmth sinks into his pores, but it's nothing like yours. He nuzzles closer to the doll, ignoring how it tears into his skin.

"I'm here," he whispers.

Maybe you got confused. He knows you're a God, but even the Seven are not omniscient. When he was torn from the abyss, it was possible you hadn't meant to so cruelly cut the connection between you. Maybe you couldn't find him, and so he just has to tell you where he is.

So he whispers to you in the dark, just as he has so many times before.

Only this time, he's met with silence.

In the years that pass, you linger at the forefront of his mind, haunting him like a wraith. Childe can't bring himself to be rid of you, despite how it hurts every time he thinks about you for a little too long. He's still stuck, perpetually waiting for your return, despite how he knows you've long given him up.

Childe becomes Tartaglia, the 11th Harbinger under the Tsaritsa. He takes a new name, a new mask— he executes her orders dutifully, and he does his role perfectly. He acts as if she's you, despite how desperately he wants to believe otherwise. If he closes his eyes for long enough, he can pretend that the cold that seeps into his bones in her presence is yours.

But no matter how many names and identities he takes, he'll always just be your Ajax; the boy who still misses you, despite how short your time together was. And that fact is what burns him the most.

Maybe he should be angry. He knows he has every right to be. Angry that you left him, that you discarded him as if he was nothing. Maybe he should hate you— hate you for leaving him alone, as if you weren't the only thing keeping him sane. Hate you for leaving as if his love didn't matter to you.

He comforts himself by thinking of the time dilation he experienced in the abyss. You cared for him so much that you spun three days into three months. He likes to believe he meant something to you; he must've, because why else would you lengthen your time spent together?

Childe knows it isn't true. He didn't matter enough for you to stay, after all.

At night, Childe finds himself listlessly thinking of you. It's a silent mourning. Quiet tears fall down his cheeks, soaking the pillow beneath his head. He chokes down every heaving sob that threatens to break from his throat; clenches his jaw when they claw too close to his lips. He slaps a hand over his mouth when he's too loud, biting his fingers until they're bloody and marred by his teeth. What would you think if you saw him this weak? Saw the boy you built up crumble, all because he can't feel even the softest traces of your presence anymore?

You would find him pathetic. All he's done is prove that you were right in abandoning him.

When the memory of you is too much to bear, he clutches the effigy in his arms, squeezing it against his chest until it's sharp edges dig into his skin. Even after all these years, he's still kept it close. He tries to feel the visage of you that was once attached to its bearings, whispering for you under the night sky, hoping it'll remind you of your time in the abyss— hoping that tonight he will feel you again, ruffling his hair with tendrils of wind.

He never does.

Childe barely sleeps, but when he does, he dreams of you. You have no body, no face— he can't even begin to imagine what you look like, and he doesn't dare too, even when he knows he has nothing to lose.

He's back in the dark, but you're still there with him, providing him light and comfort. If he knew that leaving would entail being without you, he never would have left at all. Better to be with you than to die without.

Sometimes, he dreams of you staying with him even after he escapes. Your warmth is ever-present. He gifts you riches, now. You have a voice in his dreams, and he can hear you speaking to him. You're kind, and gentle, and he wants for nothing. He has you, and there is nothing more to want.

He dreams he never lost you at all. It makes reality all the more painful.

In a way he knows is pathetic, Childe hopes you at least found him fun. He hopes you found him entertaining, despite how the thought twists his heart and guts into little knots, until he feels vaguely nauseous at the notion. At least then you would have reason to remember him. At least he could say he meant something to you.

In a hidden corner of his room, there sits an altar for you. His wealth as a Harbinger means he has no lack of resources, and so he bejewels the altar until it glimmers even without light. It's obnoxious and opulent to the point of vanity, but he figures that if you like it, he'll earn another whisper of warmth from you— in the vain hope that you hear him at all anymore.

With his hands, now calloused and worn, he carves sigils into whalebone. He doesn't know what they mean, but they were numerous in the abyss; and so he etches them into bone, hoping that whatever they mean, it reaches you.

Childe pushes himself more than he should. His back aches from all the weight he carries on his shoulders, but he trudges forward despite how it hurts. He is more fervent in conflicts, and spectacular scenes of blood and viscera follow him every time he walks onto a battlefield.

His tongue forms words of devotion for the Tsaritsa as he slays another enemy, blood staining his fingers, but in his heart, he only ever speaks of you.

When he fights, Childe can lose himself. He can focus entirely on the movement of his feet, the precision of his blade. He can ignore how badly he misses you, and how in the back of his mind, he desperately hopes that the more blood he sheds with your teachings, you'll find him satisfactory.

Adrenaline rushes through his veins, and once again he lets himself be drowned by the rush, letting himself forget all of his pain.

Childe is proud of the way that no one can recognize his style of fighting. It is exact and sharp— every strike hitting its target with ease, filled with vigor and intensity. He enjoys the gazes of jealousy, but remains silent when asked. My teacher taught me, he says. He sheds no further light on the matter, and any instance someone shows interest in learning from him, he instantly refuses. Childe wishes to keep you close to his chest, a guarded secret known only to him.

Childish, perhaps. He knows it is. But if he can't have you, then he will have the knowledge of you. He will keep it to himself, and there it will stay, safe in his tight grip.

It drives him insane, the way sees you in everything. When night falls, covering the sky in a blanket of stars, he wonders if you're staring at him from above. When the tides of the sea brush against the shore, he finds himself thinking of you as the moon— you are what anchors him, despite the fact that he hasn't felt you in so long. In his eyes, there is nothing you could not be, and with every breath, he only ever misses you more.

It's during his mission in Liyue that he feels you again. Childe is unable to breathe when he meets the Traveler, sensing you watching from their eyes. His heart thunders in his chest, tempestuous as a storm over the sea.

For a moment, he's happy. You're finally back. He wants nothing more than to run to you, to ask you why you left for so long, to ask how he can make you stay, but then he feels you— a familiar pressure bearing down on him, forcing him to say anything but what he wants to.

Childe watches the Traveler's back fade as it finally clicks for him.

You abandoned him for someone else. You left him... for this. The thought sends him reeling. You left him, just to go spend time with someone else— to give them the same company you gave him, to give them the same guidance you gave him— was he merely replaceable to you?

Was he just a test for you?

He should be angry. And he is, but the heartbreak overwhelms him. He's left choking, battling for air. The agony of having been tossed to the side, of having it be affirmed in front of his eyes. He wants to scream and cry, beg for you to return; but his throat squeezes every time he meets the Traveler, and the words die on his tongue.

You don't want him to speak. He's meant to play along.

Childe had waited for you for so long. Even after all this time, he couldn't get rid of the painful hope that you'd return. He had done his best to bottle his emotions, to keep them shut and locked inside, so that you wouldn't be disappointed in him upon your arrival. Proud that he never doubted you for a moment.

But he had. He had doubted you, cried at the lack of your comfort. Afraid of what it meant to be without you. Fearful of living, never getting to gleam your existence for a second time— and now you want him to pretend as if he never knew you.

As if he can't see the slight smugness in the Traveler's eyes.

His fight with the Traveler is personal. He bares his teeth, snarling like a rabid dog. His every strike is fast, precise with the intent to kill and maim. Childe hopes his emotions reach you, that you know of his bitterness and acrimony. That you know of how long he wished for you, how long he yearned for you to come back— how his frustration has twisted into pure rage, turned into a fine point.

He just has to simply show you how he's better. He has to show you that he's superior in every way to your choice. That you should've chosen him over them.

They are undeserving; watch how he rips through them like they are nothing, slicing through them like they are mist over sea. They are unworthy; see how easily he beats them into submission, how easily they crumble at his feet. The matter of the Gnosis is nothing to him, now— only whether you see how he should be the one you prefer.

It's then that he feels it. Your rage. Your anger at having been battered and bruised. The Traveler stands back up, but something is different now. Their strikes are fluid, prowess and skill increased by an outside force.

You.

Do you hate him that badly? Detest him so much, to go so far as to bless another with your strength so they can prove themselves to be his better? Even in his Foul Legacy form, Childe is forced to retreat; forced to bow his head in defeat, weakened by the burden of his transformation.

The realization leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He's done the exact opposite of what he set out to do. All he's proven is that your right.

Childe feels your crushing weight bearing down on him. He spits the words out, calls them 'friend' through clenched teeth. He dances to your whims, just as he had previously. Unnatural, stiff movements and words that speak the opposite of what he means.

And then you're gone, left along with them. He stares at their fading back. He can almost imagine you beside them, walking by their side just as you once did his.

It hurts.

The next time he feels you, there is no sign of the Traveler. Only a tight pulling in his chest.

He doesn't know what it means, or what it entails. But he follows, sensing you at the end, waiting for him. Childe doesn't allow himself to hope; that maybe, you have come around. That maybe you do care. That maybe, you never hated him— not truly. That you missed him just as he missed you.

Maybe he meant something, after all.

When he reaches you, he feels it. You're happy. You're happy with him. He feels you reaching out, tickling him with strands of your will. You brush against his skin, burrow deep inside. Childe lets you, still unable to breathe.

He wonders if this is really happening. Have you come back to him, truly? Have you finally realized how much better he is? He feels you graze his soul, reaching deep within. Childe feels you envelop him, swathing him in warmth and comfort.

You're home, you whisper.

He only hears the ghost of your voice, a chime in the wind; but he hears the intent, the meaning behind your unintelligible words, even though he can't understand them.

Childe breaks.

SANGUINE NATUS ; first meeting/as a worshiper

If even just your breath could leave him weak, then seeing you for the first time makes his knees give out underneath him.

It's a foolishly embarrassing display, but Childe can't find it in himself to care. He falls to his knees quicker than his mind can catch up, unconsciously posturing himself to make himself seem as small and harmless as possible— anything to make you stay, even if it means sabotaging his image.

He tucks his shoulders inward, struggling between looking at you until his eyes burn and your image is seared into the back of his eyelids, or averting his gaze because just touching you with them feels like he's sullying you somehow.

His breath comes out short and sharp, his entire chest heaving with each shuddering, raspy exhale. Before he can even manage a sound, he's sobbing, crumpling to the floor— there's no care taken to your perception of him now, only the wailful cries of one lost in the weight of your eyes. Childe knows he's being pathetic, a mess of airy desperation and red eyes; everything he was when he felt the ghost of you leave him, and everything he wished you'd never see. But it's you, and for the first time, he can truly feel your eyes on him.

It's all too much to bear.

"I-It's you, it's you—!" Childe manages to choke, wet tears caking the apples of his face. His eyes strain, burning to see the visage of you through the blur of his vision. Nausea bites at him, his abdomen a sudden storm from the tears that lick at his cheeks.

Childe has always been austere in his worship; strict, solemn in how he acts out every religious rite. There is an icy silence unlike him as he moves, particularly whenever your sanctity is involved. His fingers still tremble despite his stiffness, the desperation loud in every twitch of his limbs. The desire to see you, after all is said and done.

Seeing you for the first time feels as though a wave has overtaken him, drowning him in brine and the cerulean of muddy waters. There is no hiding what he could barely contain before— jerky movements filled with need and the dolor of one disappointed before.

Childe no longer finds himself able to veil it by lies and rushing fights of adrenaline; now, it lies bare, and there's no burning ache to keep it hidden.

His fervor is relentless; a feverish desire to please you coalescing until it's unbearable for his skin. Your reaction to his cries could have been cruel or kind, and it wouldn't have bothered him; all that matters is whether he has finally proven himself worthy of standing by your side.

His worship is eager words spilling from his lips at night, the echo of your name a murmur from his mouth like the sigh of the ocean's waves-- his blades stained red, limp at his sides-- the burning in the back of his throat that comes from years of pleading.

You're here now, even if he can't be with you at all times; and that knowledge leaves him whispering to you, uttering every thought without a moment of reconsideration. It is a ceaseless endeavor, as every word is listless praise and endless adoration. There isn't a moment where he isn't thinking of you in some way, and the mere thought of the opposite leaves him feeling vaguely sick.

He wants to think of you all the time. Though it's such a small thing, in his mind, he has you all to himself— in the sense that there is no one else to take your eyes off of him— there, he can make you happy; there, he can make you proud of him. In that world, you have no reason to be rid of him.

Childe's always kept his habit of crafting you makeshift gifts. They're rugged, imperfect things, but laden with his fingerprints and the palms of his hands. Before, he could only set them still on his altar for you, and hope that it pleased you somehow. He was only ever met with silence, but he could pretend you were happy with him, and the idea alone was enough.

When he catches sight of a sea conch, its pale marks swirled across its smooth surface, he can only think of handing it to you. It's a beautiful thing, and so simple and crude a gift; but maybe you will find worth in such a thing, the simplicity of its nature, and praise him for it.

He gives them to you physically now, unable to shake the urge to do so. His hands always tremble when he hands them over, his knees threatening to buckle underneath him whenever your fingers brush against his. He will never fail to drown in the sensation, allowing everything that he is to become thoughts of you.

Childe has always worshiped you in bloodshed. In the past, he hoped it would leave you satisfied enough to come back; now, it's to prove how much better he is than everyone else. His fear runs deep, like cracks in the earth far below the water's surface, and the sickening feeling of dread whenever you praise someone else suffocates him.

It's unreasonable, he knows, and he has no reason to fear, not anymore— but his heart still quickens at the thought, and his stomach still twists.

It's an all too familiar feeling. When he was first torn from you, he felt as though his heart had been ripped right out of him; and the panic he feels only reminds him of it.

When he's inevitably forced away from you on another mission, he deals with it as quickly as possible, no matter how bloodied or bruised he leaves it. He is brutally unkind in his workings, his words always terse and clipped; a slight edge that never really seems to go away until he knows you're somewhere nearby.

It's when he's forced to stay away from you for a longer period of time that he breaks completely. Upon his return, he is instantly back at your side, heaving sobs and ugly tears running down his face. He can barely think, and a flurry of slurred words leaves his lips— begging to never leave your side again.

Childe knows better than to think he is deserving of your kindness, but he’s desperate to at least stay in your shadow. There, he could stay near you, even if he was swathed in black— even if his only glimpse of you was your back, he would be in bliss. To be near you in some form is all he could ever ask of you.

For all of the power you have granted him, it's only right that he use it for you. A mere word from anyone that isn't pure praise has his grip on his weapon tightening, the tendons on his hand taut and his knuckles pale. He remains entirely oblivious to any moral ambiguity in your actions— whatever you do is right and just; as you are the only one worthy of judging yourself, he does not dare too.

Instead, Childe draws his blade in judgement of others— he will act as your hand and executioner, the arbiter of your faith; it's with only vigor that he hands out punishment, a ferocity bold and true.

AMANS IN SPINIS IACET ; as your lover

Childe's dreams have begun to take a sudden turn.

It's not anything he can control, despite how hard he tries too. They pleased him at first, even though he still couldn't help the way his heart tightened at the idea of you somehow knowing. At that time, they weren't occurring enough for him to be worried, and the content themselves were innocent enough for him to think nothing of it.

You held him close to you, pressing benign kisses across his freckled cheeks, playing with his hair with soft fingers; little things that he could believe meant nothing at all, just a desire to feel your affection in the only way his mortal heart knew how.

The dreams turn nightly, and Childe finally realizes it's much more than that.

It begins at signs of your favoritism. Glances that last more than they should, summoning him to your chambers more frequently; Childe does not deny you, and he can't help the faint giddiness that clouds his mind every time he feels your gaze linger on him. It's a euphoric sensation to know that he is the one you are looking at; no one else. Only barely does he manage to rein in his emotions every time.

You speak much softer to him, and your touch is more affectionate. He turns drunk on your approval, willingly dancing to your whims if it meant having your fingers coiled in his hair for another moment. Before he can stop himself for even daring to think it, Childe lets himself believe he's special to you— and that is where the problem arises.

The thoughts don't stop. Even if he screams to drown out the noise, they still manage to be so loud. The dreams are relentless, more loving, more vivid. He can feel the warmth of your palms as you caress his cheeks, the weight of your breath when you draw your head near; they feel so real, that for a moment, he thinks you're the one sending them to him.

He feels as though he's dirtying you in some form, as if he is the one committing an unforgivable sin against you; somehow managing to desecrate you with just his thoughts alone. The idea sends him into a panic-induced frenzy, kneeling before his altar with rushed, unintelligible apologies on his lips.

Despite his self-hatred, whenever he wakes from one, Childe is left blissfully dazed, nuzzling into his pillow with hazy clarity— pretending that it's you, instead. He wonders what it would be like if his dreams were real, if he could really be so special to you in such a way; entirely irreplaceable, entirely yours.

It doesn't take long for his will to be eroded by his desperation. His desire to resist was already hanging by a thread, and as the dreams persist, any resistance on his end is lost. He falls ever deeper into an abyss of his own making, allowing himself to be undone by his own creation.

Childe has always been needy, but as his feelings rear their ugly head, it only grows worse. He has always loved you— and he had been struggling to choke his own feelings down for as long as he could, fooling himself into believing that they didn't exist in the first place. In his eyes, it's only right that you be the one to shake the foundation he lay; making him crumble until every dark part of himself is laid bare in front of you, only for your eyes.

There's a drastic increase in his desperation to be near you, and any lack of refusal on your part only exacerbates it. He neglects his duties entirely in favor of staying by you in some way or another, be it either by your side, or following you from a distance like a lost puppy.

Your admittance of feelings only makes Childe more fervent. He can barely hear himself speak, his heart fluttering against his ribcage like a caged canary. He can barely believe anything you're saying, and for a moment, he wonders if he's lost in another dream of his.

At your assurance, Childe doesn't dare to doubt you any longer. He falls entirely into you, allowing you to consume his every thought. He doesn't think to fight back, letting you envelop him until his every breath is coated in your name. He is yours, and he has no desire for anything more.

His desire for your approval now emboldens him. Childe's always acted out of an interest in garnering your attention, and though he now knows of your feelings, it does nothing to satiate him; instead, it leaves him hungrier, greedy with an eagerness to please.

He doesn't take from you without asking, but he asks enough for it to be a nuisance. Your affection is everything to him, and he can't bear to go a moment without it. He asks to lay his head in your lap, for you to play with his hair— the loss of your touch is the loss of himself, and sends him reeling back to memories of when he was without you.

The first time you kiss him, his legs instantly give out underneath him, a small groan leaving his lips. Childe doesn't bother to dull his reactions; you deserve to know how easily weakened he is by your touch, with even a brush of your fingers enough to leave him breathless and wanting.

As your favorite, Childe is quick to be rid of any competition. Whether or not you see them as possible suitors doesn't even cross his mind— the fear that snakes around his heart is ever-present, and if they're better than him in some form, it only grows in persistence. He doesn't hurt them, because surely that would upset you, and any devotee of you is worthy of respect— but he is quick to showcase his superiority, and to do so broadly without shame.

Childe grows used to his new status, and uses it to stay by your side constantly. Any attention you give to others is met with instant jealousy, seething glares sent to whoever stole your gaze, even if they only preoccupied a second of your mind.

He could never be mad at you, as clearly the fault lies within himself.

Any signs of your likes and dislikes are instantly noted. If you compliment someone for their behavior, he begins to emulate it, or at least he tries too. If you like Zhongli for how well he executes your orders, then Childe will be the same; only he will do it better, quicker, and prove himself still deserving of your love.

If he were perfect, then you would have no need for anyone else. If he were perfect, he would never have to worry about whether you'll grow bored of him the moment he stops being entertaining enough.

The thought of you with another leaves Childe sick without fail. He knows he has no control over you, and that if you wished to be rid of him, he would willingly walk into whatever punishment awaited him— but now that he has tasted what it feels like to be so utterly yours, he can't bear to imagine another sharing the same treatment.

You kissing another, holding another, letting someone else lay against you; all of it only serves to further blur his vision. Even if it is sinful of him to feel, he can't stop the emotions from swirling in his chest.

You are everything; the earth laid beneath his feet, the foundation of which he relies on. To be without you is to fall, to be without you means death; and if he must carve his skin and bone to fit the picture you want him to be, then he shall.

#[🦇] — my writing #genshin impact #yandere genshin #sagau #yandere male #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin x reader #self aware genshin #yandere childe #sagau childe #self aware childe #genshin cult au #cult au childe

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mellifluouaamor · 2 months

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MASH BURNEDEAD, FINN AMES, LANCE CROWN, DOT BARRETT, RAYNE AMES, ABEL WALKER, ABYSS RAZOR, WIRTH MADL, CARPACCIO LUO-YANG, ORTER MADL (SEPARATE) ⍣ GENDER-NEUTRAL READER

synopsis. his reaction to you asking him, “what if i suddenly disappeared one day?”

author's note. reader's relationship with the boys is up to your interpretation! but reader is implied to be orter's betrothed here c;

as a blank look crosses his face, MASH almost drops the cream puff he was eating upon registering your question. he stops for a moment to think what exactly made you ask him that, but when he can't come up with any reason he decides to ask you a question of his own. "did something happen?"

when you don't answer him, he clenches a fist beside his head. someone must be threatening you - why else would you ask him that out of nowhere? "tell me his name. i'll punch the stuffing out of him so he doesn't bother you again."

mash is puzzled when you wave your hands around frantically, claiming that nobody is bothering you. "i was just curious!" you exclaim, "don't think about it too deeply. i just wanna know how you'd feel and what you'd do if it happens."

he hums thoughtfully as he continues eating his cream puff. the thought of you suddenly disappearing makes his chest feel heavy. losing you is like losing his pops - but ten times worse. he visibly deflates and stops eating, which worries you. when you place a hand on his shoulder, mash grabs that same hand and pulls you towards him.

"if you suddenly disappeared one day... i'll be sad. but i'll find you," he says, cupping your cheek which grows warm under his touch, "and i'll keep trying until i do."

FINN would stare at you like you've just told the entire world his deepest and darkest secret. a few seconds pass, and the freckled first-year then clings to your sleeve as if he's a child about to be left behind by his mother. "wh-what? why would you ask that? where would you go? why would you go? is... is everything okay...?"

you could tell that he's becoming more anxious with every second that ticks by from the way he's clenching his fists against your robe. you reassure him that everything is okay and he relaxes a little, but he's still bothered by your question.

"then why are you asking me...?" he asks, trailing off. he's starting to think that you're actually hiding something from him and becomes jittery again. he grips your arm tightly, afraid that you'll disappear into thin air if he doesn't, and you wince; you swear that he's cutting off the blood circulation in your arm.

when you tell him that you're only asking for fun, that does little to ease his nerves. "but i can't get it out of my head! i'm scared- i don't want you to disappear without a trace!"

for the next few days, finn would become extra clingy and glue himself to your side whenever he can. lance and dot would cast judging looks his way, but he couldn't care less. as long as he's with you, there's no way you'd suddenly disappear, right?

LANCE rolls his eyes at your question. "like that'll ever happen. you don't even know how to cast the transportation spell properly." despite his words, he's a bit concerned that something might be happening to you behind his back or you're sick, and you're not telling him about it.

"oh come on, you know that's not what i meant!" you exclaim, "just answer my question!" he lets out a quiet sigh. folding his arms over his chest, he stares straight ahead and thinks about what he'd do if you were suddenly gone from the academy one day.

"there's not much to do except to ask your friends and teachers where you went. if they don't know, then i'll search for you myself." there's a pause, and you tilt your head curiously as he looks down, his bangs casting a shadow over his eyes. "i'll keep looking until i find you." after that, lance doesn't talk to you for the rest of the day.

the following morning, your friends tell you that lance was borderline interrogating them about your private life last night, making you internally question his intentions. you can feel someone's gaze on your back as you go about your day, making you scared of the prospect of someone stalking you.

you also notice that lance has been overly attentive towards your activities over the course of the week, asking questions such as, "where's your next class? which friend are you going to sit with? what class do you have after that?"

DOT doesn't think much about it at first and just laughs. "disappear? where are you even planning to go?" with a beam, he slings an arm over your shoulder. "don't think of going anywhere without me! wherever you go, i'll follow!"

you laugh along, unable to continue the conversation with how much of a cheery fellow he is.

later on, dot's mind would drift back to your question. he knits his eyebrows together, wondering why you would even ask him that. is someone bullying you? or maybe... he stands up abruptly and slams his hands on his desk, disrupting the class as he shouts, "I OFFENDED THEM WITHOUT KNOWING?!"

even when he's told to stand outside of the classroom until the class ends as punishment, he couldn't stop thinking about it. he's itching to barge into your classroom to ask you, but holds himself back from getting into further trouble.

during one of your breaks, dot would pull you aside and hold your shoulders firmly as he stares into your wide eyes. "look, i'm sorry for whatever i did. i'll apologise a thousand times if i have to," he says, and after a brief pause he adds, "just don't go anywhere i can't follow."

RAYNE is immediately alarmed by your question, and he turns to face you with his usual frown deepening. he then grabs your arm to prevent you from leaving and asks, "what do you mean? spit it out. what happened?"

he won't let you go until you tell him everything. he doesn't even bother hiding the fact that he's worried, and the worst case scenario keeps surfacing in his mind. this is why he didn't want people knowing that you're close to him; you might be used against him, or even worse, hurt because of him.

"please, (y/n). tell me if something's wrong," he implores. he can't bear the thought you disappearing right before his eyes, and he really thinks that your life is in danger. even when you say that you're asking the question in a general sense, he's not about to take any chances.

rayne would ask max to look after you in his place and to keep tabs on your activities, as well as the people you'd frequently interact with. max thinks that he's overthinking but does it all anyway because he understands rayne's concern for your safety and well-being.

rayne would also make an effort to spend more time with you outside of classes so that he can guard you himself. you'll have to give him plenty of reassurance to convince him that nobody is out to get you.

ABEL drops his doll; that's how shocked he feels when you asked him that haunting question. why would you ask him that, knowing that he had lost his mother when he was a child? do you want to torture him by disappearing without a single trace of your existence?

you immediately regret asking him that and try to apologise. before any words could leave your mouth, abel pulls you into a tight hug with one arm wrapped around your waist and the other around your shoulders. his gesture catches you off-guard, rendering you speechless.

"please don't," he whispers, "i feel the safest with you. if anyone or anything tries to take you from my side, i swear i'll take you back." without you, abel would truly be a lost child searching endlessly for the warmth that had left him.

the following day, you'd find abel and abyss as your scary dog privilege on campus.

"... are you actually scared of me?" ABYSS gives you a melancholy smile as he asks you a question of his own. he had always dreaded the day that you would admit your fear of him because of his evil eye; although he knew that you would never leave him simply because of that, he still can't help but be scared of the slightest possibility that you might.

he slowly reaches for your face and gingerly cups your cheek, as if he's scared that you might reject him and pull away from his touch. he lets out the bated breath he didn't know he had been holding when you don't, and caresses the soft skin with his thumb.

"i know it's selfish of me to say this... but please don't leave me. you're all that i have, and life is only worth fighting for when you're there," he admits. abyss had a rough past where he was unloved even by his own parents, so when you approached him with a smile that shines like the light of dawn, he found himself unable to let go of your outstretched hand.

however, if the situation ever calls for it, he's willing to learn to let go. "if there ever comes a time when you're no longer by my side... then i'll accept it. but if anyone tries to take you against your will..." there's a pause as his left eye glints. "then i'll make sure that they're the ones who disappear."

WIRTH lets out a loud laugh before leaning towards your face with a smirk. "And who would dare to take you away from me?" he'll gladly challenge anyone who attempts to do so, and he's confident that he'll win. "you've always been bad at hide and seek too, so how would you even hide from me?"

"just answer the damn question," you say with a huff, "it's not that deep. it's only a 'what if'." propping his chin on the palm of his hand, he mulls over what you had asked. if you disappeared because someone took you away...

"well, i'll simply find you and make the perpetrator suffer," he replies, "by the time i notice your disappearance, you wouldn't have gone far anyway." then, there's a long, awkward pause as wirth averts his gaze, like he wants to say something else but is reluctant to.

after a moment, he adds in a more serious tone, "if you need any protection, don't hesitate to find me. i promise i'll keep you safe." you can't help but feel a bit shy hearing those words come from him.

CARPACCIO is eerily silent. he doesn't even look at you. he could only try to think of what his life would be like in your absence… and decides that he doesn't want to consider the possibility.

"disappear where?" he asks as he finally meets your nervous gaze, "would you disappear unwillingly? or of your own accord?" cupping his chin, he thinks about your question more thoroughly and tries to apply it in the different situations he could come up with.

"if you were taken against your will, then the most logical thing to do is rescue you," he answers, spinning his knife around his fingers, "and of course, i'll make sure that whoever kidnapped you will be in so much pain that they wish they're dead." a slight shiver went down your spine; you could actually see carpaccio doing that.

"but if you left on your own, then..." carpaccio trails off for a moment, unsure of how to vocalise his thoughts. "... i'd still find you, i guess. and try to figure out why you left."

carpaccio knows that the question you asked is merely hypothetical... but he can't stop himself from thinking that he may have done something to make you consider disappearing from his life. he'd try to figure out what instigated those thoughts of yours before finally asking you.

"i have ways of looking for missing people. just finding you would be child's play," ORTER answers, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "is that all you'd like to discuss with me? please stop wasting my time with your nonsensical questions. if you're that unhappy with our engagement, take it up with my father."

he doesn't want to admit it, but he's actually thinking about your question far too much to the point that it's affecting his daily life. he gets visibly agitated whenever he's not in your presence, which doesn't go unnoticed by kaldo, who proceeds to tease him. "what got you so nervous, hm? worried that your future spouse won't be happy with you once you're married?"

if renatus happens to be passing by, he'd join in by saying, "he brought it upon himself. who asked him to be an ass fiance? i wouldn't be surprised if they plan on disappearing from his sight."

renatus' words would get orter thinking. after pondering your question more, he'd come to the conclusion that you feel neglected and are planning to leave him soon. the mere thought makes his chest feel painfully tight, and he'd drop whatever he's doing to search for you.

the longer he takes to find you, the more anxious he feels inside. the moment he sees you, he'd grab your shoulder and roughly turn you around to confirm that it's really you. you're surprised to see the dread on his countenance, which gradually dissipates once he's sure that he has found you.

there's a flash of guilt in his eyes, and as he gently takes your hand in his, he quietly says, "i'm sorry. please... don't ever leave my side."

(you can read kaldo's part here)

#loveletters—!#mashle magic and muscles #mashle #mashle x reader #mash burnedead x reader #finn ames x reader #lance crown x reader #dot barrett x reader #rayne ames x reader #abel walker x reader #abyss razor x reader #wirth madl x reader #carpaccio luo yang x reader #orter madl x reader #headcanons #gender neutral reader

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lomlompurim · 6 months

Text

What if instead of waking up in the mushroom body, sqq woke up in a doll.

Something something while lbh was away in the abyss, sqq without noticing offended a misterious (demonic-succubi-esque???) cultivator with a weird thing for making dolls. She had dolls all over her secret workshop that she very kindly let him into when she heard about the famous Xiu Ya sword being in the city.

What she wanted of him? Who knows, sqq couldn't bring himself to care. She probably wanted his money or try to steal his hair, the hair of those dolls seemed very much like real hair, although he had to admit the level of details on these dolls were amazing.

(she wanted to trick him into buying one of her cursed dolls and steal his life energy little by little, but got wifebeamed by widow sqq during their conversation about how talented she was to be able to make so many dolls, and without really understanding he rejected her with little to no emotion on his face)

So she cursed him, and since sqq didn't feel anything bad at the moment he thought it just didn't work and left, not sparing the curse a single thought after their encounter.

The rest of the story goes as usual, excep that after he self detonates his soul doesn't go into the mushroom body, instead it got directly into the shape of a doll in the workshop of this woman.

His first thought is thinking someone snitched the mushroom body bc wtf wasn't he supposed to wake up under the dirt??? Why this place smells slightly familiar? Like paint and humidity and floral perfumes?? and why everything looks fucking giganourmus?!?! A teapot should NOT look that big from his position....Oh no, did the mushroom body turned out as small as a squirrel? WhAT is happening?!

And then he looks at his arms and legs, and he has joints. White paper skin with joints in his wrists, elbows, torso, waist, knees, feet. And he panics, a lot.

The woman who cursed him starts monologuing about how she trapped him now, and you are mine, I made this doll specially for you master shen, this is my revenge for your insolence to leave me yada yada- Sqq stoped listening a while ago.

Somehow he manages to escape from this woman and now he is roaming around as the size of some apples. Everything is huge. Everything is dangerous, even the grasshopers! And this body is fragile! He can't feel heat nor cold, neither hunger or other things, but he is useless with no spiritual veins inside, and if someone is not looking carefully, they might crush him. And the way back to cq is gonna be a hell of a trip! But he needs airplane to fix this. He can't stay as a doll forever! He needs a mushroom body and then fly into the sunset far from this mess! Adiós! Goodbye! So his new plan is to infiltrate into cang qiong, look for that rat and disappear. Sneaking into some disciple's pouch must be enough to break in.

Something something it only had passed a few months since lbh stole sqq's body and everything is still very fresh. CQ mountain is a hot mess. Sqh frankly needs to lay down and take a nap. Lqg keeps figthing with Lbh practially every day and coming back beaten bloody, he has his king pestering him and a lot of paperwork to do, Lbh is a pain in the ass, Yqy is really close to snap and start a war with HHP, and he knows nothing about his bro. So yeah. Such a great time to be alive.

The mushroom bodies should had been ready, right? He must be alright...Yeah. He has enough already to keep him busy. Cucumber bro is gonna come out and stumble across at any moment. No one would bat an eye if he takes a nap, right? He deserves it. He is overworked enough for another lifetime, his head hurts, his bones hurt everywhere, a short nap should be fine...

Until he feels something small tugging his robes and a cold tiny finger poking his eyelids. But he doesn't want to. He is very comfortable on the floor of his office. Whatever bird decided to pick a fight with his face can keep trying.

"AIRPLANE, WAKE UP, YOU HACK! I NEED YOU TO FIX THIS! WHY IS A WITCH WITH ANACHRONISTIC HAUNTED DOLLS IN THIS NOVEL? THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!"

That voice. That fucking annoying voice was of just one person and one person only. He opened his eyes, looking for the source of the unmistakable voice of his No1 hater, but he came across with a pretty porcelain doll. With a very ugly sneer in it's face.

"W-Wha-?...Bro-?!"

"Fucking finally! Why are you sleeping on the floor in your ofice?! I was looking around your bedroom like an idiot! Do you know how close I was to falling from your window?!"

-TBC-

#svsss #shen qingqiu #人渣反派自救系统 #I don't have a lot about this au bc I just imagined it today #shen yuan in a doll body au #I still need to reach lbh #oh boy that is a can of worms idk if im prepared to open #so any idea of how to progress the story is welcome #since he would be still in his strongest shock and denial #what if sqh has to bring sqq along w him to hhp bc he has there all his plans and secret stuff idk #or to use any hhp treasure or smt #too many posibilites and imma sleep #wip #shang qinghua #I got this idea while watching Barbie

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pickingupmymercedes · 1 month

Text

I want South - Lewis Hamilton (NSFW)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Reader!

warnings: unprotected sexual activities, (p in v), oral sex

Also, wrap it before you tap it

wordcount: +2K

a/n: That top, those arms, THAT CHEST. Blame Lewis and his ability to get me horny.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

EXPLICIT CONTENT UNDER, -18 DO NOT INTERACT.

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The rhythmic clatter of her keyboard barely registered as Y/N navigated the labyrinthine spreadsheet on her laptop. Hours had melted away since Lewis had disappeared into the steamy confines of the bathroom, a hasty "Good luck with the media" thrown over her shoulder. Between the complex financial reports and the incessant ping of emails, she hadn't even noticed him leave.

Reaching a dead end, she leaned back in her chair, stretching out her neck. A quick scroll through Instagram was supposed to be a five-minute break, a mental breather before diving back into the work abyss. But instead, her breath caught in her throat as her feed exploded with photos. Lewis. In a tank top, but not just any tank top, mind you, but a ridiculously glittery low cut one that seemed determined to defy all laws of physics and hold onto what little fabric remained.

The offending garment offered more real estate to his sculpted arms and chest than it did to any semblance of modesty.

Oh, the audacity of that man. Knowing full well the chaos he could unleash with a single outfit choice, he'd strolled into the paddock like a bronzed Adonis on display. A playful desire to ruffle his feathers bubbled up, even if he was likely neck-deep in an engineer's meeting. Picking up her phone, she crafted the first text.

Y/N: "I want to go south."

A beat. Then another. Finally, a reply popped up on the screen.

Lewis: "What are you even talking about?"

She smirked. Clearly, her cryptic opener didn't land, so time to up the ante.

Y/N: "Your compass, baby. I want south."

There. A hint. A playful nudge in the direction of his, shall we say, exposed assets. Silence again. Maybe the meeting was more intense than she thought. Or maybe – just maybe – Lewis was finally catching on.

Lewis: "Are you stalking me on social media?"

A triumphant grin stretched across her face. He finally saw it. The news articles, the fan reactions, the absolute frenzy his outfit had caused.

Y/N: "Tits out Thursday?" she sent, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. "Or is it guns out all week?"

Another, longer pause this time. The anticipation was delicious, she was having way too much fun with that. Finally, his response arrived.

Lewis: "Wth with people not behaving on main?!"

Y/N: "At least Derik put something on you that covers the nipples. This time."

Suddenly, her phone buzzed violently. Not a text, but a video call. She answered with a raised eyebrow, ready for the fire Lewis was sure to unleash. But instead, the screen showed a face flushed, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes.

"You're in serious trouble" he said, his voice low and almost husky.

"Oh, am I?" she countered, meeting his gaze with a smirk.

He chuckled, a rich, rumbling sound that sent shivers down her spine. "When I get back to the hotel, prepare for a south-bound exploration"

The line went dead, leaving her hot under her shirt and a flurry of butterflies in her stomach.

Y/N eventually managed to refocus on her work, the playful banter with Lewis now a pleasant distraction lingering in her mind. But as the clock ticked on, the anticipation of his return began to build.

It was a couple of hours later when the door to their hotel suite swung open, and Lewis stepped in, now wearing a Mercedes shirt and the infamous top in hand. He leaned against the wall, clearing his throat until she looked at him, his gaze intense.

"Hello, miss explorer” he let out with a low voice, holding out the top that had cause do much distraction.

Y/N made a show of looking down at one of his t-shirts she had been wearing since the morning, no bras or shorts under, taking if off and leaving her in only lace panties. With a playful smirk and her bottom lip caught between her teeth, she threw the shirt on the bed and sauntered confidently towards him to retrieve the tank. “Thank you, Eric, I’d say” her voice full with amusement

As she took the top from his hand, she noticed how uncomfortable he seemed in his pants, a smirk playing on her lips. She enjoyed the teasing, reveling in the power she held over him in this moment. Putting on the tank, the piece of clothing hung dangerously low on her frame, the strings that were meant to be all the way to her shoulders acting as covers to her nipples. She could feel his gaze burning into her, and she savored every moment of it.

He swallowed hard at the sight, his eyes darkening with desire as she stood before him, clad only in the top and lace panties. The tension between them crackled in the air, a silent challenge passing between them as they locked eyes.

As Lewis closed the distance between them, Y/N could feel the tension in the air thickening. With each step he took closer to her the more he seemed to tower over her frame, even if they were almost the same size.

His eyes gleamed with amusement at her feistiness, but there was something more, something primal and undeniable simmering beneath the surface. She met his gaze through her lashes, a coy smile playing on her lips as she watched him approach.

His hand reached out, fingers grazing her cheek gently, sending shivers down her spine. Y/N's breath hitched as she leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed at the sensation.

Lewis tilted her chin up with a feather-light touch, his eyes searching hers with an intensity that made her heart race. There was a silent question hanging between them, a wordless invitation that neither of them could ignore.

Unable to resist any longer, he closed the remaining distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a searing kiss. It was like fire and ice colliding, a whirlwind of passion and desire consuming them both.

Y/N melted into him, her hands finding their way to his neck as she deepened the kiss, losing herself in the intoxicating taste of him. There was no room for restraint now, no need for words as Lewis lifted her effortlessly, her body responding instinctively to his touch.

As he laid her down on the bed, a last lingering kiss was exchanged before he stepped back, his gaze dark with desire as he pushed his shirt off, revealing the toned muscles of his chest.

Her fingers went straight to undo his belt and push his pants and underwear down, eager to feel his skin against hers. But he seemed in a hurry for no reason, his movements frantic and impatient.

"Hey," Y/N murmured softly, her voice a gentle reminder of the moment they shared. "Let me savor this."

He paused, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of longing and anticipation, he breathed, his voice husky with desire. "I can't get enough of you."

A tender smile graced her lips as she reached out to trace the compass tattoo on his chest, a silent reminder of her first text that afternoon. "I still want South, you know…" she whispered, her touch feather-light against his skin.

His breath hitched at her touch, a shiver running down his spine. "How could I forget?" he murmured; his voice laced with desire. Her fingers continued to trace the intricate lines of the compass tattoo on his chest, each featherlike touch sending a shiver of anticipation through his body.

Lewis sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling her gently into his lap, their bodies fitting together. She was straddling him and had full access to his tattooed chest. He leaned back slightly, allowing her to explore every inch of the inked design with her fingers, his eyes never leaving hers.

"South, huh?" he replied, his voice husky with desire. " I'm more than willing to be your guide."

In her inner thigh she could feel his already semi hard dick, slightly jerking each time she moaned mid kiss into Lewis’ mouth. His fingers sent butterflies into her stomach each time he grabbed at her skin, almost as if he was searched for something to ground him to earth.

Unable to resist the pull of their desires any longer, her hands slid down his chest, reaching for his cock, but she stopped short when she heard him moan. "Okay there, champ?" she teased, a playful smirk dancing on her lips.

His hands immediately went to her covered pussy, covering her whole pelvis as his gaze held hers, desire burning in his eyes. "More than okay," he replied, his voice husky and low.

She chuckled softly, her fingers trailing lightly along his jawline as she leaned in to place a tender kiss on his lips. "I don’t think I could wait much longer" she murmured against his mouth, her breath mingling with his in the intimate space between them.

Y/n didn’t have to repeat for Lewis to pull her lace lingerie to the side and pull her up on his laps, brushing his tips a few times in her sleek, mixing hers to his own “No need for lube” his smile beaming with pride as he reveled in the fact, he could always get her there, even with almost no foreplay.

“Gloating then, are we?!” one of her hands came to wrap around his in his dick, signaling that she was more than ready and willing to take control. He let her, wrapping his fingers in her hips and paying his full attention on her face, waiting to see it contort with pleasure as she sunk into his hard member.

Her walls enveloped him tightly, her moans sending his own body into overdrive. She stopped and steadied herself halfway through, her controlled breathing a stark contrast to her beating heart. He caressed the skin between her hips and ass to sooth her, his touch gentle and reassuring.

Her head fell to the side as she resumed the descend until their thighs touched and her clit hit his pelvic bone “Gosh, you always make me so full”, she gasped, her voice a mixture of pleasure and desire.

He matched her rhythm with slow, deliberate thrusts upwards, his movements syncing perfectly with hers as they moved together in a dance of passion and desire. With each thrust, he felt her walls clench around him, her moans growing louder everything his dick brushed past that sweet spot.

Just as he felt her walls start to flutter around him, he reached for her clit, his touch sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. With one angled thrust, she shattered, her body convulsing with pleasure as she reached her climax, her moans filling the room as he pulled himself up and held her convulsing legs, savoring the feeling of her release still buried inside her.

As Y/N came back from her high, her body still thrumming with the aftershocks, she felt a sense of contentment wash over her. When she opened her eyes again, she found herself lying on her back on the plush covers and pillows, Lewis's face inches from hers, his member still buried deep inside her.

"Hi," he murmured, his voice husky with a sweetly sick smile playing on his lips. With a swift movement, he pulled his top down from her body, exposing her breasts from the straps on both sides, and gave each of them a tender kiss.

Just as she thought he would linger in this moment of tenderness; his eyes grew dark again. Without warning, he started to hammer into her, his movements urgent and frenzied. Her legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, her heels digging into his back as she surrendered to him.

His hands held her legs up, allowing him to penetrate her even deeper, his thrusts driving her wild with ecstasy, her nails finding in his chest the place to sink and ground her.

As Lewis picked up the pace, the rhythm of their bodies melded into one, each thrust driving them closer to the edge. A thin layer of sweat coated their skin, aiding the glide of his body on hers as they moved together.

As he approached his release, his movements became more urgent, more desperate, his need for release evident in every grunt. When she felt him start to falter, his thrusts losing their rhythm, his hands reached for her ass, pulling them apart to allow impossibly deeper access to her.

With each thrust, his tip hit her cervix, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She felt herself teetering on the edge of oblivion, her hands inadvertently reaching for his ass to try and make him thrust deeper, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of their movements.

And just as she thought she couldn't take any more, she came undone, her body convulsing with pleasure as waves of ecstasy washed over her again. Lewis wasn't far behind, his own release tearing through him with a force that left him breathless.

But as he spilled himself into her, filling her with his semen, they both heard a knock at the door, pulling them both out of their frenzies.

Y/N couldn't help but giggle as Lewis huffed with annoyance, his face flushed with exertion as he glanced towards the door, a mixture of frustration and desire evident in his eyes as he shouted, still deep inside her, that they needed another hour to get ready.

The knocking persisted, growing louder and more insistent with each passing moment, until finally, Lewis reluctantly pulled himself away from her, his body still tingling with the aftershocks of pleasure. With a muttered curse, he made his way to the door, his movements slightly unsteady as he attempted to compose himself and hide his lower part with a towel he grabbed going for the door

Y/N watched him, now propped up on her elbow on the bed, a playful smirk playing on her lips as she reveled in the sight of him, disheveled and breathless, his desire for her still evident in every line of his body.

As Lewis opened the door to reveal Daniel standing on the other side, a sheepish grin on his face, she couldn't help but laugh as Daniel’s brain processed the state of the room and Y/n wearing the glittery top on the bed, a gasp coming from his throat before he muttered "Right, another hour then?! Make it two.” Already on his way to his own room, hands on his eyes and Lewis closing the door.

“I think we could have some fun with that extra hour” his eyes darkening again as he approached her on the bed, his fingers finding his seed now seeping out of her pussy.

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TAGLIST - @saturnssunflower @xoscar03 @chocolatediplomatdreamerzonk @happy-golden-hour @vicurious28

@0710khj @thecubanator2 @neilakk @bigratbitchsworld @adriswrld

@fearfam69691 @cmleitora

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1

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mondaymelon · 9 months

Text

— “𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐞, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞…” ♡

໒꒱ || :feat~ xiao, kazuha, heizou, wanderer x gn!reader:

໒꒱ || cw: fluff <3 modern!au, the two of you live together, established relationship, wanderer has anger issues, reader needs an oscar !!

⤷ jokingly ignoring your anemo boyfriend ♡

“...Did I do something not to your liking?”

XIAO’s frantic, even if it doesn’t show on his displeased expression. And his worries aren’t without reason - you’ve been ignoring his presence since he came home from an outing this afternoon. It’s already evening, yet you still haven’t uttered a word to him, only occasionally sending him complicated glances that he can’t even begin to unravel. He knows your heart well, that much is true, yet right now his senses have been cast into an abyss of confusion.

You cast him a sideways look. “No, nothing.” Even as the male visibly brightens at the fact that you’ve finally acknowledged him, you still seem as offset as before. It’s rather laughable how this entire matter is bringing him back to when the two of you first met, when he still acted so bristlingly cold to you, and how your warm disposition had melted that away… the light scowl on your face proved to serve that he had made a mistake.

What kind of mistake? Perhaps he’d never know. Xiao thought that he had been acting well recently, hadn’t lashed out with his sharp tongue or started a dispute with a particularly foolish person, yet perhaps he had slipped without his knowledge, and you had been there as his silent witness.

“Nothing? If I’ve done anything to upset you, please, tell me what it was.”

“I said it’s nothing.”

The frown on his face only deepens. Were you testing him? “If I hadn’t done anything wrong, then why won’t you look at me?” You only remain silent, and while Xiao isn’t hurt, the adeptus is utterly clueless about what to do in a situation like this. His voice grows soft, leaning closer to you and staring into your eyes even as you evade his.

“Please look at me, love.”

It’s hard to utter those words, especially when his instincts are failing him, yet the male jolts as you let out a laugh.

“Ahahaa- Xiao, what are you- Aha-!” You stop for a breath, still laughing quietly. Great, now Xiao is even more confused. Why were you laughing? Was it because of him? Either way, he’s just glad that he’s rid the scowl on your face.

“I’m sorry, but… just what do you mean?”

“Nonono, I’m the one who should be apologizing.” You shake your head slightly, smiling. “I thought it’d be funny to prank you, but I didn’t expect it to be that effective…”

Xiao blinks. “So…”

“It was a joke.”

“Ah. Is that so? However…”

You blink, and you can feel his presence behind you, his whisper tickling your ears as he speaks. His voice is low, a near growl as his sturdy arms pull you closer. “That lost time. When you evaded my gaze and affection.”

“You better make it up to me.” ♡

“Are you sure you’re alright, dearest?”

You can see the sincere concern reflected in KAZUHA’s crimson eyes. He’s keeping his distance, yet he knows something is off, and it makes him unreasonably uneasy. The way you’re acting now isn’t something he hasn’t seen before. Kazuha’s been through much, and he knows what hurt looks like. It’s hard to stay silent, but he knows that he won’t be able to reach you at the moment. Sometimes, walls that were put up could only lower over time.

“I’m fine.” As if that were true - then why was your voice so cold? The male’s heart aches as he watches you disappear into your room, the door closing shut behind you. Ah, even writing a poem wouldn’t be able to capture his feelings right now. Kazuha wants to take you in his arms, to embrace you, to hold you tight as he whispers to you that everything will be okay. Yet even for the person who understands you best, he knows that what you need is rest, not whatever else he could provide.

He sits in front of your door, his head leaning against the wood. He’ll wait until you’re ready to talk to him, even if that time wouldn’t come soon. It’s silent, that is, until he hears a faint sound. Laughter? His face visibly brightens, only to grow confused as he hears the words, “Holy shit, I am one very good actor-”

He calls out your name, a stunned expression appearing on his face as your door swings open, your surprised eyes meeting his. “Ah, were you lurking there?” There’s a visible grin on your face as you let out a little laugh. “I should’ve expected that much, you wouldn’t simply brush away the incident like that, would you? Ah, to think the prank would be found out so easily…” You let out a playful sigh.

“Wh- What is… all of this?” His expression is one of distant amazement, crimson eyes wide as he glances at your beaming self. Sure, he knew that your disposition was often teasing, but to go this far…? He lets out a good-natured laugh at your antics, a warm smile gracing his lips. He’s not upset - he can’t be, not when he’s glad that you’re able to laugh like this without hindrance. “It’s always something with you, isn’t it?” He chuckles, drawing closer and leaving a light peck on your forehead, sweeping away your hair with a soft touch. “Hm, but this is rather unfair, isn’t it?”

His eyes adopt a sense of contentment as he watches your expression grow perplexed. “Huh?”

“To play such a cruel trick on me, without second regard… no matter.”

“You’ll just have to make it up to me, dearest.” ♡

“Huh? What’s up with you today??”

The moment you avoid his all-knowing gaze, HEIZOU’s already thinking up of every possibility. Someone annoying at work? He had heard you complaining about obnoxious commissioners far longer than he cared to remember. Or maybe someone had taken one of your bounties, and now you were at a loss of mora? Or perhaps the person in question was someone different entirely… himself.

“Nothing.” Your reply is short as you merely give him a quick glance as you step through the door. It’s apparent that you’re trying to weasel out of his sight as soon as possible, with the way you’re frantically undoing your shoes without so much of another word.

But he certainly hadn’t done anything wrong, had he? No, of course not. How could you possibly find an annoyance in his ever-charming smile? Ah, but then again, it’s not unreasonable for the person at fault to be none other than himself, but with the way your eyes hold just the slightest shred of mischief… oh. Oh. Ahaha, you’re proving to be rather amusing, aren’t you? To think you’d dare pull such a slight on someone like him… a half-done case like this is easy to unravel. But no matter, he’ll play along, just for his own entertainment.

“Awww, love, did I do something wrong?” He blinks his sparkling green eyes up at you, fluttering his lashes. Glittering tears pool at the edges of his eyes. “C’mon, you can tell me what happened…!”

You blink, utterly dumbstruck. “Heizou, what the fuck.”

“D-Don’t avoid me, alright?!” He whines, clinging to your shirt desperately. “I-I don’t want to be alone…!!” His large doe eyes, growing even larger under your gaze, are glossy with tears.

In all honesty, you should’ve expected this. But perhaps a small part of you wanted to believe that Heizou wouldn’t just figure all of it out off the bat… he knows you far too well to nod along with concern.

“Wh-Why aren’t you talking? Do you hate me??” Heizou’s blubbering, close to breaking into tears. Fuck, he was an even better actor than you were, how was this level of satire even possible?? What kind of detective cases is he having to go through if he needs these kinds of skills… you sigh.

“Damn Heizou, you could’ve at least pretended to fall for it.” You huff, sitting down on the couch before shifting to the side to make space for the male. “You’ve gone and ruined my nightly entertainment.”

He blinks at you, then laughs, quickly changing out of his facade. It’s startling, how he’s able to switch characters so easily, almost like he’s taking off one mask and simply putting on another. “I would’ve been a fool to fall for that shoddy performance.”

“A fool? Don’t flatter yourself.” You let out a joking exasperated sigh, leaning into his shoulder with a pout.

“But perhaps I am one?” He hums thoughtfully, ruffling his hands through your hair. “After all, you certainly are, and I am your lover, so… what is it they say? Like meets like?”

You puff out your cheeks, face growing red. “Heizou, I’m not a fool!”

He chuckles, eyes twinkling as he grins. “I know. However, I fear the same could not be said about me…” He shrugs his shoulders, sighing dramatically, yet you can hear the impending mischief in his tone.

“Or… perhaps I’m a fool for you? ♡

“Hey, did you just ignore me??”

All you did was brush past him at the doorway, yet WANDERER is already bristling, eyebrows drawn up in a scowl as his gaze burns into your back. “Oh great, so now you aren’t even going to respond to me, are you?? Fun. So funny. I hope you feel proud of yourself, dimwit.” His rage only continues when you remain silent. “What, did I do something wrong? The fuck, answer me!”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” You manage to add a note of sarcasm into your voice, inwardly cheering yourself on at your sheer acting talent. “I’m just tired today. Don’t talk to me.”

His indigo eyes widen at your words. “Hah? Wh-What do I have to do with that? That doesn’t give you the right to-!” He catches himself before he falls into a fit, knowing surely that in the heat of the moment, something would likely be broken and thrown out the window, which had just been fixed last Thursday. He lets out a sigh, one of exasperation. “Why must you be so idiotic?”

He supposed he was the idiotic one to expect a response.

“Alright, I see how it is. We’re going to play this game. Very well.” He confidently strides up next to you and pulls up a chair, watching your pencil draw words about who knows what. Wanderer is someone stubborn, that much is apparent, and he’s not one to back down. And you’ve just presented him with an opportunity to flare that tenacity of his. Of course, he wouldn’t be lying if he hadn’t said that he wasn’t at least the slightest bit concerned about what had happened to you, how could he not?

Ah, but at the same time, he had threatened everyone in your classes and workplace not to lay a single finger on you, so who would have possibly dared to defy his command? If that was the case… you instinctively flinch, glancing at the male in your peripheral vision, whose eyes have grown cold as the air trembles at his sudden release of bloodlust.

He’s definitely misinterpreting this, isn’t he? You grumble, catching his attention for a brief moment. “Nevermind, I don’t think I can pull this off…”

The blank expression on his face is almost worth the scolding you’ll get after his realization. “...What?”

“You’ve been… pranked?” You give him a sheepish smile. “I thought it would be funny to ignore you for a day, so-”

“You what?” Shit, his bloodlust hasn’t disappeared, just switched recipients. You let out a shaky laugh as he glowers at you, clearly enraged. Ah, you’ve certainly dug yourself into quite a deep hole, haven’t you? But it shouldn’t prove to be a problem…

“Don’t be so mad at me, alright? I just wanted to poke some fun!” You press your lips into his cheek before he can get a word in, smiling against his smooth skin. “Mwah! There, my apology!”

His silence is a terrifying thing, but soon enough his lips move to form words, mumbled out and hard to hear as his cheeks ever so subtly grow red. “...t…en…”

“Huh? Sorry, I couldn’t-”

“Not enough. Kiss me again, and just maybe I’ll forgive you.” ♡

(a/n) wouldn't it be so silly if i posted at least every monday so my blog name would actually make sense. so silly. so unbelievably improbably inconceivably impossibly unthinkably unimaginably silly !!!!

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123

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huntershoe · 3 months

Text

Back to you

Hunter x Jedi!reader

Spoilers for the bad batch season 3 :)

Summary: After a long time, you're finally reunited with your family and your lover.

Warning: Canon violence, Mention of mental and physical torture, slight depressing state, hurt/comfort. Fluff!

A/N: Let me know if anyone would like part two. I was planning on making it spicy ;}

Word count: 2.4k

Part two

It's been months since you got a distress signal from one of your fellow surviving Jedi. Months since you managed to rescue your Jedi friend but sacrifice your own freedom. Months since you've seen your family and your lover.

The last thing you remember from when you were still with the batch was when you were all on Pabu, helping the people restore the beautiful ocean city while you were waiting to get any word from Echo as he helped Rex.

When the only thing missing was Crosshair.

You got the distress signal the same day Echo said he would visit. You knew you couldn't wait for your friend to visit, so with a tight hug, a long and loving kiss and a promise to return safely and quickly, you set the course for your Jedi friend.

Unfortunately, your plan wasn't Vader proof and you ended up captured, switching your place with your friend who managed to escape. You waited for your end, silently apologizing to Hunter and your family, but it never came. Instead, Darth Vader decided you would make a great addition to the imperial inquisitors, so they tried to break you, in every possible way.

For months, they tortured you mentally and physically, leaving you crying and barely alive at the end of every day. But you never broke, no matter what they did to you, you didn't break. There were times when it came close, but thinking of your batch and Hunter gave you strength to fight on.

So when the first opportunity to escape came, you took it. Doing everything in you capacity, even if it meant you'd have to tap into the dark side of the force. Your body had been weakened in the past months, your skin now covered in scars but that didn't stop you and you managed to escape, hijacking an imperial ship and running.

It seemed that even the force was on your side once you coincidentally run into Echo, Rex and the newly forming Clone resistance. But all your happiness disappeared once Echo informed you of the loss they suffered almost immediately you were gone. All those months, just the idea of coming back to your family and how everything would be perfect once again. Everything fell apart and you felt like you were once again in that cold prison cell, waiting for the inquisitors to torture you again. You were falling into the dark abyss, ashamed to even show yourself to Hunter and Wrecker.

It wasn't until Echo came looking for you, four days later. His body radiating happy energy as he practically jumped on you, hugging you and telling you that both Omega and Crosshair managed to escape and were now safely with Hunter and Wrecker on Pabu.

That made you hyperactive, filling you with energy and will to live and both you and Echo were in the ship only few hours later, crossing the galaxy to get back to your family once again.

Three days later you finally made it to Pabu, docking the ship at the top of the city. But while waiting for the ship to touch the ground in a matter of those seconds, your mind betrayed you. Suddenly all you wanted to do was to hide in the corner and dissappear, all those happy thoughts dissappeard, instead being replaced with dark and hateful thoughts. You imagined how Hunter must hate you now that you only returned once everything was alright again. How you dissappeard when they needed you the most. Maybe he's even blaming you for everything bad that happened to his family. Or maybe Omega's the one who hates you now, maybe she thinks that you betrayed them, leaving your family to help someone else.

Your whole body was shaking and you felt like you would faint and when the ramp finally began to descend and the sun shined on your face, Echo had to gently grab you because you swayed like a fragile flower in the wind.

Both you and Echo managed to take a few steps down the ramp before you heard a loud yell. Omega screamed yours and Echo's name, sprinting full speed at you, making you react the same. You yelled her name and she jumped in your arms as you quickly prepared to catch her, hugging her close to you as you began crying, peppering her face with kisses and petting her hair. You managed to crouch with Omega in front of you as you grabbed her cheeks and looked at her more closely, checking for any injuries as she cried telling you how much she missed you.

But as soon as Omegas eyes fell on your face her expression fell as well.

"What happened to your face!" Big tears began rolling down her cheeks as she looked at you. Similar to your body, your face was now littered with both small and big scars, some more visible than the others.

It's been months since you've seen Omega, the young female clone that had unexpectedly entered your life and become like a daughter to you. And after so long, you didn't want your scars to be the first thing you talk about, it was too dark subject to address in the first moments of reunion. So you moved your hands up to her hair, trying to change the subject to something happier.

"Look at your hair! It's grown so much!" You laughed through your tears as you played with the little girl's hair.

"I know, now you can finally braid my hair!" The young girl knew what your were trying to do and played along giggling as she mirrored your hands movements and played with your hair.

You were just about to respond when you both got interrupted by someone whispering your name. Your head snapped behind Omega, falling on a frozen figure, Hunter.

Your body went rigid, completely frozen in time when your eyes meet with his golden ones. Omegas eyes followed yours and once she saw Hunter standing there silently watching, she hugged you one last time before slowly removing herself from you and running towards waiting Echo.

Now that Omega was no longer in front of you, you stood up slowly, your eyes never leaving his as he watched your every move like he couldn't believe you were really there.

Your hands began shaking again and you grabbed your sleeves to try and stop them but to no avail.

"Hunter?"

You whispered back to him, taking a small step towards him. He said nothing, but his body moved and he was by you in the next second, his hands enveloping your body as his own crashed against yours. He squeezed you almost as hard as he could, fearing that if he wouldn't, you would've disappeared again. Hunter buried his face in your neck, inhaling your scent as your hands slowly stopped shaking and you moved them up into his hair. Your forehead fell on his shoulder as you finally closed your eyes, taking in his warm presence. You both stood there for a long minute, not moving as you both tried to soak in each other's warmth.

You felt Hunter deeply inhale once again, his breath tickling your neck, before his lips pressed against the same spot and he kissed you. Repeating the movement kissing up your neck, slowly coming to your face as his hands moved up to your neck, and his thumbs landed on your cheeks as his eyes found yours again. Hunter breathed out your name again, his face so close to yours.

"I thought I lost you..." His normally smoky voice sounded broken, quiet, like he was worried he would scare you away if he'd talk any louder. His own hands began to shake slightly as he gently turned your face around, his eyes jumping from scar to scar.

"Hunter, I'm so sorry. I tried to get back to you, I really did but they-" You tried explaining yourself as his eyes found yours again.

"When your ship returned I thought to myself at least I got one of my girls back...but then only General Prima came out and she could barely look me in the eyes to tell me what happened..." Hunter let out a sigh as his thumb traced the scar across your lips.

"...I thought I lost you and I couldn't bare to even think of what they're doing to you...I tried get you back every day, you and Omega..." He went on slowly and quietly, his other thumb tracing the scar across your eye.

"I'm so sorry Hunter-" You tried to apologise again but he interrupted you again with his thumb on your lips.

"Just...just promise me to never leave me again...I...I can't live without you." Hunter whispered as one tear left his eye and you moved your hand to his cheek, brushing it away as he leaned into your touch.

"I promise Hunter, never again." You nodded your head as you promised him, your own tears escaping you again and you moved your head, leaning your forehead against his.

Hunter let out a gentle puff of air, making your lips tingle as the air hit them. His own lips ghosting over yours as he whispered. "Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum ner ka'ra."

A small smile appeared on your lips and you gently nodded. "Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum ner ashi dul."

You responded and finally moved, pressing your lips against his into a long and loving kiss.

Hunter's hands moved back down to your waist and he pulled you closer again as his kiss turned more desperate.

Your own hands moved around his neck as you pulled yourself impossibly closer, a small sound escaping you as Hunters hand squeezed your hip and he took the chance to deepen the kiss. His tongue prodded against your lips as he entered your mouth in almost like urgent matter.

You let him take the reins and followed his tempo, enjoying the feeling of his arms around you again.

"Okay, you can continue doing that later! Now it's my turn!" You heard Wrecker before another set of arms snaked around you and Hunter, squeezing you even further and lifting you in the air. Both you and Hunter gasped, breaking the kiss to look at the gentle giant as he hugged you, leaning his head on your shoulders. You chuckled, grinning and squeezing one arm out and moving it to gently pat Wreckers head. "I missed you too Wrecker." Even Hunter managed a chuckle as he heard his brother sniffle quietly.

"We're never splitting ever again." Wrecker decided as he slowly put them down and brushed the tears from his eyes away. "Agreed." You nod, grabbing the giant clone's hand and squeezing it.

"What, no hug for me?" Crosshair's sly snake like voice asked as he came closer and crossed his arms in front of his chest an amused frown on his face. Your head turned in his direction and a wide smile grew on your lips and you gently let go of Wrecker and moved around Hunter, letting your hands to drag across his chest as you stepped closer to his youngest brother. "Crosshair!" You grinned and quickly moved closer to him, enveloping him into a big hug. Your movement surprised him greatly as he was expecting a glare and a witty remark instead you hugged him.

His arms were awkwardly waiting at his sides, debating if he should hug you back or push you away. Alas, you were the only one that hugged him so far and he'd be lying to himself if he'd say he didn't need a hug. So he let his arms slowly sneak around your body and he hugged you back, silently laying his head on top of yours.

"I'm glad you're back with us again." You whispered just loud enough for him to hear and you felt his breath hitch.

He slowly let go of you and stepped back a little, watching the scars across your face.

"Come on, you have to meet Batcher!" Omega gasped, grabbing your hand out of nowhere and pulling you towards what looked to be a excited Lurca hound, running around and chasing Moon-yos. You chuckled at the enthusiasm of the little girl and looked back behind you to your lover and the rest of your family, only to see Hunter slightly glaring at Crosshair and Echo rolling his eyes and pushing the former Sergeant, encouraging him to move, while Wrecker only laughed and followed closely.

Omega managed to introduce you to the lively hound, telling you how she helped her and how they bonded over the time as they managed to survive the empire. Batcher seemed to be the perfect energetic pet for Omega as they began playing together, almost forgetting everyone else that was watching them.

You felt a warm hand on the small of your back and a moment later a warm body pressed against your side as Hunter lowered his head to whisper in your ear. "Come on, you must be starving." He pressed a delicate kiss to your forehead as you turned your head to look at him. "A little, yeah." You confirmed and Hunter motioned with his head to his brothers, before gently pushing you towards the house reserved for the batch.

Hunter whistled, making Omegas and Batchers heads turn, motioning them to follow too.

The shining sun had slowly began to descend as they sat down around the table after they put on some food. They snacked on the delicious fruits, talking about everything, just like they did in the old days, while they watched Omega and Batcher play.

The moment felt perfect, besides the one empty chair, remaining everyone that they will never be complete again. Everything else felt normal, Crosshair's witty remarks, Wrecker's compliments to the food, Echo trying to talk about another one of his missions and Hunter silently trying to listen to everyone as his hand slowly fell on your thigh, giving it a gentle squeeze to reassure you and himself that this moment is in fact real.

Translation:

Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum - Mandalorian way of saying "I love you"

Ner ka'ra - My star

Ner ashi dul - My other half

#sergeant hunter x reader #sergeant hunter #hunter tbb #tbb hunter fluff #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch #clone troopers #star wars #tbb season 3 #tbb spoilers #omega tbb #tbb crosshair #tbb wrecker #tbb echo #tbb rex #fluff

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ddarker-dreams · 9 months

Note

Forgive me if this sort of thing has been explored before but picture this scenario: Chrollo coming home to darling having a panic attack. Why? What's going on?? She won't tell him, because it's a panic attack triggered by a phobia of something very mundane. She doesn't want him to know she has a phobia and she definitely doesn't want him to know what kind of phobia. To give an example let's say she has an irrational fear of mice. RIDICULOUS. He mustn't know. Lie lie lie distract disengage.

THIS ........ this setup does something for me........... i've recently fixated on this concept where you wake up from an awful nightmare, something like chrollo coldly ordering your death and for it to be as painful as possible.

you wake up, tears on your cheeks and sweat causing your nightwear to adhere to your skin. you're met with an unusual sight — chrollo's side of the bed is empty. cold, too. he must have been gone for a while now. any other night, this detail wouldn't arouse suspicion. if anything, it'd cause relief, that you've finally caught a break from his ever-watchful eye.

then your mind reminds you that chrollo isn't your only foe. it replays those images, those sounds, snapping and squelching as your grisly end nears.

you do what you can to calm yourself. splashing cold water on your face, drinking water, wiping the sweat from your brow; the way you go about everything is mechanical. he could do it, your thoughts taunt. this isn't the monster of your bed — waking up doesn't make the threat disappear. it only brings you closer.

with shaking hands, you open the door separating the bedroom from a moderately sized living space. you shove your pride aside and call out his name. softly, at first, and then at your normal speaking volume. nothing. would he really leave you on your own for this long without setting up precautions?

or maybe... is he preparing to finally do away with you?

the world goes on without your senses bothering to process anything. your body reacts like it would if an apex predator was gaining on you; all-consuming adrenaline, unsteady breathing, trembling limbs. this unrelenting whirlpool pushes you down to abyssal depths.

you're running out of air and it's too deep to surface.

then you hear a voice you recognize.

chrollo's kneeling down beside you, eyebrows furrowing, a prominent frown on his face. he rarely reveals this much emotion, small as it is. you can practically hear the gears in his head turning, attempting to piece together the situation and its severity. his hand is steady on your shoulder and the timbre of his voice soothes you. it's so consistent, so reliable, he always seems to know what to do and what to say.

you don't care to dwell on these bizarre thoughts. not now, not when you feel like you're drowning. an anchor is an anchor, even if it's a man you've sworn to loathe. it's okay to seek comfort, isn't it? no one could judge you. you can't judge yourself, either. you've been through so much — now and in the past — what's wrong with accepting the sweet fruit he's tempted you with?

you latch yourself to him. it isn't graceful or romantic, it's clinging to the lifeline that pushed you overboard to begin with. he lets out a soft sound at the ferocity of your grip. anyone else would've been knocked over by the sheer exertion of force, but chrollo didn't even budge. he must decide to discern the specifics later as he doesn't prod at you with questions. no, he reciprocates the embrace with an ardor that would've sickened you any other time.

you're babbling incoherently and yet he picks up enough to hazard a guess at what brought this about. he reassures you that he'd never harm you, that the thought alone makes him feel emotions he thought himself incapable of. he hugs you close, rubs his hands over your back, presses lingering kisses to your temple, and shushes you.

exhaustion catches up near the final tears you've shed. chrollo keeps himself still so as not to disturb you when you fall unconscious. he picks you up gently, brings you back to your side of the bed and puts you down. fondness envelops his heart at your now peaceful visage. he smooths out a stray hair cascading down your face.

all he intended to do was make a quick phone call, but coming back to you, with your glassy eyes and trembling lips, essentially attaching yourself to him like he's your sole source of comfort ... he might need to pinch himself to ensure he isn't dreaming.

#i'm sorry i deviated from the original ask somewhat😭#yanderes comforting their darling and their darling actually accepting it even if it's temporary. it always gets me #yandere chrollo x reader #chrollo brainrot #answered #Anonymous

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freedomfireflies · 11 months

Text

Lost

Summary: An extra for Mine*

Harry's worst nightmare has finally come true:

You've been taken.

And he plans to do everything in his power to find you.

Word Count: 3.4k

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞 You are so much more important!*

It’s been two days, six hours, and forty-seven minutes since you were kidnapped in the middle of your living room.

Two days, six hours, and forty-seven minutes since you were placed in this warehouse, strapped to a chair, with nothing but some stale bread and a bit of water.

Two days, six hours, and forty-seven minutes since you’ve last seen him.

Harry.

About the only thing you’ve been able to think about since they threw a bag over your head and bound your hands behind your back. The only name, the only constant.

Harry.

Your one saving grace in this endless abyss of terror and intimidation. The idea of him. The idea that he’s out there, looking for you, and most likely tearing the Earth in two just to find you.

You spend a lot of time alone. Or rather, lonely. You’re constantly surrounded by guards, but they’re posted around the room, and they’re not exactly chatty.

You replay old memories of the two of you. Replay the day you met. Replay how he looks in the morning, curls disheveled, and skin fresh. Replay the sound of his voice. Over and over and over.

You imagine him talking to you now. Imagine him helping you through the problem, whispering delicately into your ear. A conversation meant to save you.

Doing so good, mama. You’re okay. Promise. They’re not gonna fucking touch you. I’m gonna find you.

“I know,” you murmur quietly to yourself. “Really wish you’d hurry.”

I know, sugar. But I’ll be there. You’ll see. And I’ll take you home. Never gonna let you go again.

“What if you can’t find me?”

I will. Rip through every goddamn corner of the Earth to find you.

“I don’t know what they’re gonna do with me.”

They won’t do a fucking thing. I promise. I’ll be there. I’ll find you.

“I miss you.”

I’ll find you.

You choose to believe the voice in your head. Choose to believe that he’s already on his way. That he’ll be here. That he’ll find you.

I’ll find you.

The sound of the large double doors being thrown open forces you to jolt in your chair, eyes flying forward.

The man who took you—whose name you refuse to learn—strides in, attention on you as though he’s coming to collect a prize.

You’ve imagined this scenario before. The moment you learn Harry was unsuccessful. That he was taken hostage.

Or worse.

You don’t like this shit-eating grin your captor wears. Don’t like the way he beams with pride or the way he rubs his hands together as if to warm himself up.

You recoil in your seat, attempting to disappear altogether.

“My dear,” he calls, stopping only a few feet away from where you sit. “I come with excellent news.”

No, no, no, you think, heart sinking to the depths of your stomach.

“It seems our guest of honor has finally accepted my invitation,” the man proceeds, palms smacking together gleefully. “Lucky for you, as my patience was growing thin.”

He sweeps around the back of your chair, the unsettling and putrid smell of his aftershave assaulting your senses as you grimace.

“So we’re gonna make a deal, my dear,” he continues, dipping down until his mouth can settle near your ear. “I’m gonna let him walk in here. I’m gonna let him think he’s saved you. And I’m gonna give him exactly two minutes to feel like he actually did his job.”

You know what comes next, and the soft trickle of air near your cheek makes your muscles stiffen.

“And then…I’m gonna end him.”

With that, the rival leader snaps his fingers, and leads his guards out through the double doors.

Leaving you truly alone.

About two minutes pass before you hear a bit of commotion on the other side of the warehouse, and through your watery eyes, you manage to make out a familiar shape.

It sneaks through a back door and begins running toward you, the gaussian blurred hair and black attire making your lungs ache.

“Hey, hey. Okay, okay, all right.” Hands cautiously scope your trembling frame, hovering near your shoulders, hips, legs, and cheeks as they search for something. “Honey, I need you to look at me. Look at me, sugar, please.”

You think you already are but can’t see past these tears. Can’t understand anything past what the nasty man said to you. Can’t comprehend what you have to do.

Fingers begin pulling on the ropes around your hands, desperate to undo them and set you free.

“I’ve got you,” the voice says, and it sounds like honey. Sweet and heavy, dripping down your ears and making you feel warm. “I’ve got you, okay? Gonna get you out of here, I promise. Just look at me, okay? Just keep looking at me, baby.”

“Harry?”

The sound of his name cracking from your dry throat seems to gut him, and his entire expression falls as he nods.

“Yeah, mama,” he murmurs, pressing a palm to your jaw. “S’me. I’m here. And I’m gonna take you home, okay? Gonna get you out of here—”

“Harry,” you repeat, but it sounds weak and fragile. Can’t display the urgency you’re trying to convey. “Harry—”

“I know, baby. I know. It’s me, I’m here,” he repeats, returning his focus to undoing your restraints. He works fast, tugging hard and with all his strength as the first one finally loosens. “Breathe, okay? Just breathe—”

“Harry.” The whimper bleeds from your throat, a fresh wave of desperation rolling down your face as you try to capture his attention. “Harry, no—”

“Shh, honey. You’re okay, I promise. Gonna make it better, I swear—”

“Harry, please—”

“I know, mama. I know, it’s okay—”

“No. Go—”

“Yeah, we’re gonna go. We’ll go, sugar—”

“No.”

The hushed but urgent silence is broken by the piercing decibels of your cry. The loudest noise you’ve made in days, and it echoes around the warehouse as he stills.

Blinking, his hands slow. “What? What’s wrong, am I hurting you? Did they hurt you—”

“No.” It seems as though it’s all you can say, chest heaving with anxious breaths. “No. Harry…go. Go, you have to go—”

He looks wounded. Eyes softening as he begins to shake his head. “M’not going,” he whispers, trying to cradle your cheek once more. “I know I left you, but I never meant for this. Baby, I swear. I did everything—”

“Harry,” you try again. “Go—”

“No.” His jaw is clenched but his frown is obvious. “No. I won’t leave you. I know you have every right to make me, but I can’t. I can’t do it—”

“Harry—”

“Please.” It’s loud but so incredibly scared. Mimicking the expression on his face. “Please. I can’t go. Can’t leave you—”

“You have to,” you try again, struggling to speak in the way you want. “You have to, he’s coming back—”

“Let him,” Harry growls, and your stomach wrenches. “Fucking let him come back, and I’ll show him exactly how I fucking feel about him touching what’s mine.”

“No,” you nearly sob, arms tugging on the rope as you desperately attempt to reach for him. “Harry, no—”

The double doors fling open as the unnamed man and his army storm the building.

They shout, and they raise their weapons, and they encircle where you and Harry are settled in the middle of the warehouse.

Harry is already on his knees from trying to break your ties, but as the guard’s approach, they scream at him to get down. Surrender. Raise his hands and keep them high.

His malice is evident. Lids narrowed, teeth grinding together, and body practically trembling with rage as he slowly lifts his arms above his head.

“Harry,” you whisper, chest aching in a way you’ve never felt before.

He looks at you. Despite all the noise, the chaos, the fear. He looks at you and he mouths, “I love you.”

You have to resist the urge to scream.

“And there he is,” comes the cruel taunt of the man behind you. “After all this time, this is what it took to break you.”

Harry’s jaw raises defiantly as he shoots daggers toward your captor. He says nothing. Remains perfectly still as the intimidating weapons crawl closer to his head.

“Did you realize how weak you were?” the man goads him. “Is that why you kept her locked away? Is that why you tried to run? Because you knew you had nothing if you didn’t have her? To use as a bargaining chip?”

A hand is suddenly attaching to the roots of your hair and yanking so hard, you see stars.

Your head drops back, following the assault as you gasp, and Harry curses from his place a few feet away.

“Don’t fucking touch—”

“Easy,” the man warns, and you look up to see him shoot Harry a cocked brow of warning. “Move one fucking inch and she’s done.”

Harry stills, settling back onto his knees as the barrel of a gun digs into the side of his skull.

“Where is it?” comes the next question, sneered, and filled with years’ worth of vengeance as he tugs again on your hair. “Where?”

Harry is quiet, studying your reaction closely as he contemplates his answer. “Jersey.”

An answer given so quickly and without argument that you feel slightly shocked.

“Jersey…” the man repeats slowly. “You think that’s the truth I’ll buy?”

“I don’t fucking care whether you buy it or not,” Harry retorts coldly. “The shipment is in Jersey. You asked, I answered.”

A beat as the warehouse fills with an eerie silence.

“Far too quickly,” is the reply. “Considering how precious those items are to you. And you’d be willing to offer up their location without so much as a conversation?”

“She’s not a bargaining chip,” Harry hisses, yet he’s strangely calm. “Her life is more precious to me than anything in those fucking containers. I don’t care what you take, but you give her back to me.”

A cruel chuckle reverberates around the large, somewhat empty space as the fingers tangled in your roots go slack. “Funny…you think I’m here to make a trade.”

Harry leans back. Takes a breath. Locks eyes on the man towering above him. “Three.”

The man’s smirk widens. “She might not be your bargaining chip, but she is mine. You didn’t think I called you here just to chat, did you?”

Harry’s chest heaves. “Two.”

“I invited you here…because I want you to watch…what it looks like…when you lose…” the man continues, dipping down, “…everything you love.”

Harry’s lip curls up with disdain. “One.”

Suddenly, a small red dot appears on the man’s forehead. Directly in the middle, like a fresh zit ready to be popped. It shines brighter than anything in the room, and before you have a chance to recognize its importance…the sound of a gun goes off.

Everything happens so quickly. Harry lunges at you, pulling you from the chair as the ropes he’d already loosened fall away. He cradles you to his chest, cocooning his body around you as he pulls you to the floor and keeps you hidden.

And it’s so loud. Guns, yelling, anger. So much violence, it makes your stomach feel queasy.

But all you can focus on…is him.

Harry.

He found you, and he’s here, and he smells the way he always does. It’s strong, and safe, and you bury your face in his shirt as you attempt to crawl through his arms as if to live in his ribcage.

“It’s okay,” you vaguely hear him murmur, lips pressed directly to your ear. “It’s okay, mama, I’ve got you. Close your eyes, okay? Gonna be over soon. Gonna take you home.”

Home.

You aren’t helpless, but you feel helpless, and the sound of all this chaos isn’t helping. And almost as if left with no other choice…you disappear.

So tired, and hungry, and scared, and done that your body completely submits to the weight on your chest, and it carries you away.

You revert back to a state of mind that feels the most secure, and everything else…is just a blur.

Time passes. You aren’t sure how much. You keep your eyes closed and your focus on Harry’s voice. On his instructions. His praise. His promise that he’s gonna take you out of here. Never let you go.

“Is she okay? Is she hurt?” Another voice. Familiar. Far away.

You hear Harry huff. “No, she’s not fucking okay. She’s scared, and she’s shaking, and he fucking touched her—”

“Easy. Okay, all right.” You feel a third presence approach, and you warily crack an eye open to see Asher approaching, his hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I mean, is she physically okay? Is she hurt, is something broken?”

Harry’s head shakes, his curls tickling your cheek. “She’s fine, I think. But she won’t stop shaking. I don’t think she’s eaten in days, and I don’t think she wants to see me—”

“Don’t do that,” Asher warns darkly, frowning some. “We just need to get her home. We’ll get her home, and it’ll be okay—”

“But it’s not her home anymore,” Harry nearly growls. “I have to completely uproot her. Again. And take her somewhere she doesn’t recognize, and she’s gonna be scared, and sad, and she’s gonna fucking hate me—”

“Boss.” Asher crouches down, palm squeezing the back of Harry’s neck. “Can’t do that. Not right now. Not here. You just need to go. Take her and go. The boys and I will clean this up…just make her feel safe again, okay?”

A long stretch of silence passes between this instruction and when Harry finally concedes and begins to stand up.

Two pairs of hands help bring you to your feet, with Asher’s familiar cologne drifting past your nose as he leans over to whisper, “You’re okay, sweetheart.”

Harry leads you out of the warehouse and toward his car. He keeps your face tucked into his shoulder as if to shield you from the bodies and the harsh light outside.

You don’t complain.

You drive for quite a while. Just you and him. No Paul. You drive until you don’t recognize where you are, and your eyelids grow heavy as the vibrations from the ride lull you to sleep.

When you wake next, you’re in a bed. You don’t know how you got there, what time it is, or where Harry might be.

But you don’t have the strength to argue.

You wrangle yourself upright, muscles sore, and head pounding. But the moment you push up, a soft lamp is flicking on, and Harry is rushing to your side.

“Easy, easy, okay,” he whispers when you sway a bit from the residual effects of your exhaustion. “You’re okay. M’right here.”

“Harry,” you breathe, cheek pressing into his palm as he cups your face and crawls onto the mattress beside you.

“Yeah, baby,” he says softly, tugging you back into his body. “It’s me.”

You take him into your lungs, inhaling his serenity until it becomes your own.

Your fingers trail up his shirt, mindlessly playing with the fabric as you work through the plethora of questions accumulating now that you’re beginning to return to yourself.

“Where are we?”

“In a safe house,” he replies quietly, nuzzling into your forehead. “Nobody knows the location but me. Not even Asher.”

You nod once. “How long have we been here?”

“Few hours.”

“How long are we staying?”

A beat.

“As long as we need to.”

You tug a bit harder on the fabric. “Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“…are you okay?”

You feel him go deathly still beneath you as he slowly rolls his head back to meet your eye. “Did you seriously just ask me that?”

You nod again, scooting up to level the playing field. “Of course. I know that must have been hard on you. Especially switching locations so fast. And I’m sure you haven’t eaten anything, which is bad, because you should—”

“Baby.” The loving nickname that he only uses in times he needs you to know how much of his heart you really have is ushered in silent reverie. “How…how can you ask me that?”

You blink. “Because I love you? And I’m worried about you? And I know you don’t take care of yourself when you’re stressed—”

“Baby—” He sounds wounded. Almost aghast by the question as he begins shaking his head and taking your face in his hands. “You don’t…don’t. Don’t worry about me. This isn’t about me, this is about you. This is about what I let happen to you, and you don’t ever have to worry about me, okay? Especially right now—”

“Harry,” you whisper, squeezing his wrists to keep him close. “I’m always gonna worry about you.”

It’s like you’ve slapped him across the face, his features twisting into a pained wince as he curses and squeezes his eyes shut. “It is my job to take care of you. To protect you. Keep you safe. And I fucking failed.”

“No. You didn’t fail. They found the rare window of opportunity and it happened,” you argue. “You’ve always told me that nothing is certain in this field. There’s no way you could have kept me hidden through every second of every day—”

“I should have,” he retorts. “I should have done more. Should have been there—”

“You can’t be with me all the time—”

“Why the fuck not? If I had been, none of this would have happened—”

“But it did, and it’s over. It’s okay. You’re okay—”

“I fucking lost you—”

“But you found me.”

This seems to be the only thing that reaches him. In a moment so vulnerable, it catches you off guard.

He breaks.

His hands fall to your lap, his entire expression crumbles, his body wilts before you. You rush to take hold of him, fingers in his hair, tugging him closer until he can press his nose into your neck and hide.

He shakes with ragged breaths and the tears he’s trying so hard to fight. They’re hot, wet, and they seem to burn him like acid as they slide down his cheeks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and it’s so very broken. “I’m so fucking sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”

You shush him. Repeat his name like a mantra until he settles. Promise him that he’s okay. You’re okay. Everything…is okay.

It takes almost an hour for him to finally feel brave enough to lean back. But when he does, you kiss all over his forehead, and remind him that you’re here. That all you have to do now…is get better.

You nurse each other back to health. He takes you to the kitchen and cooks you your favorite meal: nachos.

You tease him about the cheese dripping down his chin and he tosses an olive at you. You watch TV just to forget. And eventually, you make your way for the bath.

You both sit in the tub for way longer than you probably should. Until the water has run cold, and the bubbles have dissipated.

But it’s nice. Sitting with him between your legs, his back against your chest as he hesitantly asks you what happened.

You tell him, keeping the details vague. You don’t want to scare him. The important thing is you’re both okay.

You fall asleep in each other’s arms, and you refuse to start the next day until way after noon.

He tries to argue a bit more about how wrong he was to leave you. How he needs to do better. How you deserve better than what he’s given you, and you spend just as much time arguing that it couldn’t be further from the truth.

He’s the only reason you’re safe at all.

He concedes but you know it’s because he intends to punish himself for the remainder of the day. Maybe week. Month.

But you’ll fight him on that another time.

You spend some of your day on the couch, flipping through magazines you found and reading an old book.

Harry spends his time on the phone, yelling with nearly every member of his team. You don’t interfere. You know it won’t do any good.

But then…something changes.

His entire demeanor shifts before he turns to look at you, eyes narrowed and hatred evident. You don’t hear what he says, don’t understand the context. But the look on his face alone is enough to tell you that something is very wrong.

When he finally hangs up the phone and steps closer, your heart drops.

You sit up. “What?”

He takes a deep breath, and says only one thing:

“Asher.”

Next Part:

~ Found (Lost pt. 2)

Previous Part:

~ Remedy* (A Mine Extra)

~ Full Mine Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist (If you ever need or want to be taken off, or simply excluded from certain fics like this one, please let me know!! 💞) : @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @vamprry @fdl305 @acesofspadess @stylesfever @narry-heart @virqinvirgo

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elliesmainhoe · 1 year

Text

PLAYER TWO

Streamer!Ellie X fem!Reader

Summary: Ellie's introduces you to her stream

(Set early in their relationship and when Ellie's channel was still small 💙)

Contents: fluff, swearing/cursing, body shaming a cat lmao, sitting on Ellie's lap, kisses, references to social anxiety.

Part 2 - Part3

My Masterlist

It had been 6 hours since Ellie had disappeared into the abyss you called your guest bedroom and now Ellie's newly turned office. Her rooms grey walls were plastered in posters of a various games and bands she liked. LED lights ran around the ceiling, usually on the blue setting, sending the hue beaming out through the crack underneath the white paneled door.

Your small ginger cat was scratching irritably at her offices door. "Garfield stop it," you hissed at him, giggling at the ridiculous name Ellie chosen out for your chunky British shorthair.

"Garfield, I'm serious" you hushed at the creature, picking up the skittish chonk from Ellie's door. Garfield let out a loud, dramatic 'Yowww' throwing his head back. you sighed "You really want Ellie cuddles right now huh"

"meow"

"yeah, me too..." You looked at the beautifully majestic ginger chunk of a cat and sighed in pity for yourself. "Fine go in then..." You whispered at him, grabbing the brass handle and slowly nudging the wooden door ajar, letting Garfield scutter in enthusiastically, before shutting the door again.

Ellie was caught off guard as a fuzzy orange thing flung itself onto her lap, making her hands stop button smashing her keyboard angrily.

"Oh hey Garf"

User: Omg he's so cute 😭🥲

User1: Give me the baby. Now.

User2: Bro how did he get in here, didn't Ellie shut her door?

User3: Garf? As in garfield?

Ellie's hands grasped the cat turning him in a Simba like fashion towards the camera.

"This is Garfield, if you couldn't tell he has a super power to walk through walls" she joked, obviously realising that her chat was curious about how he got into the enclosed office.

User 4: He's fat

"Do not talk to my child that way." She snapped sarcastically, covering his ears with her palms "he's plump." She corrected before letting out a breathy laugh.

The cat began purring incredibly loudly, now laying across her keyboard vibrating the desk with every exhale of breath.

She picked up her phone discreetly, texting you a quick.

Ells: Gonna have to gaslight my chat into thinking our cat can phase through walls now.

Ells: Oh the things I do for you

You: He was being so annoying thoughhh

Ells: Garf is never annoying, he is perfect in everyway. You're just in denial.

You :🙄

User5: nah but how did it get in

User6: Ghostcat?!?!?

"Yes this is my ghost cat, it seems like he's going to chill with us for a bit.... Aren't you baby~?" she cooes at the purring creature scratching underneath his chin.

Just outside the closed office door, you were pacing back and forth. Shit... Why the fuck did you let the cat in her room, that was the stupidest shit you've ever done. Now everyone was going to know Ellie lived with someone. Then maybe they'll investigate, because some of her fans might be nutjobs. What if they dig something embarrassing up of you?!?

"shit, shit ,shit, shit, idiot, idiot, fucking idiot." Damn you and you're soft heart when it comes to cats.

"Y/N. Just forget it happened, go to bed sleep it off, yeah let's just... Sleep it off..." You mutter to yourself, sulking off to bed in defeat.

•••••

"Hey... Hey baby... Wake upppppp~~" she whines squishing your cheeks with her hand, stirring from your slumber. "Hmm hi Ells..."

At the confirmation you were awake she started peppering your face with kisses. "I made you coffee, I tried to make pancakes but I uh burnt them, so ughh toast?!" She smiles suspiciously giddy.

"oh thank you baby," you murmur back, slowly sitting up, back against the bed's backboard and begining to sip your coffee.

"I don't know how you can stomach that liquid, it tastes like shit."

"It is gross, but I can't physically function without it" you looked over at her, she was showing you puppy eyes. Suspicious.

"What did you do ells...?" You sighed

"Last night I may or may not have accidentally let it slip that uhh, I had a uh girlfriend." She stammered, smiling sheepishly at you " And I was wondering and you can obviously say no!! Like no pressure at all, but I was wondering if you feel ready yet to be introduced by my stream" she rushed out words practically incoherent, and if you didn't know her so we'll you wouldn't have been able to understand.

"you can even bring Garfield with you for emotional support!" She chirped happily.

"I don't know baby... I don't know if they'll like me, all my friends know me for being awkward on camera."

"Listen to me right now. You are the most amazing, beautiful, funny, charismatic and smartest girlfriend, person and mother to our fur baby to ever exist. If they don't absolutely love you then they're blind and have no taste. But they will absolutely love you! Because I love you!" She says enthusiastically, a stupid smile spread on her face as she wraps her arms around you, placing sloppy kisses onto your cheek.

"Pfft" you say, her enthusiasm and happiness seeping from her into yours "okay, I can do that...I think" "You will!!! You'll do amazing!" She squeals "I'm so excited!"

"Gosh, your like a puppy Ells" you chuckle, petting and playing with her hair. She let out a quiet 'hmph' as she nuzzled into your neck happily.

•••••

It was 6:55pm, Ellie had started her stream, the words 'STARTING SOON' sprawled across the monitor, blocking out the view of the viewers, It was unnerving, siting Infront of a camera, and one push of a button hundreds of people would see you. Ellie was sat next to you, swiveling on the dark blue gaming chair absentmindedly.

"y'know baby, you don't have to be so rigid, or quiet, they can't see or hear you yet."

"I can't do it Ells..." You mumbled out. "Hey babe, you absolutely can." she reassured you grabbing your hand, and squeezing it slightly. "How about this. You sit on the couch, out of view with Garfield, and once I've done the intro you can come say hi. Hows that sound?" She asked softly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

Nodding in conformation you shuffled out of view for the camera sitting next to your curled up cat, petting him as he purred loudly, pushing up against your palm. You tapped your phone screen, it lit up revealing the photo of you and Ellie in a photo booth on your first date to an arcade.

Infront of your smiling faces, the time was shown.

06:59:55

06:59:56

06:59:57

06:59:58

06:59:59

07:00:00

"Hey guysssss!"

It took ten minutes for Ellie to finish the introduction, answering questions, thanking donators and talking to moderators.

"Right so, before we start I have a suprise for you guys" she spoke happily, eyes flicking towards you expectantly. You picked up Garfield, your heart immediately slowed and cradled him like a baby in your arms as you entered the frame.

Ellie had moved the extra chair from the frame, trying to keep the suprise as unexpected as she could for her chat. You stood somewhat awkwardly for a second or two saying a quick "hi" to the camera, you looked at Ellie eyes slightly wide with nerves.

She pats her thigh, gesturing you to sit down. "This chat, is my girlfriend"

User7: I ❤️ lesbians

User8: Ugh I'm jealous.

User9: Is Ur gf single?

User10: forget Ellie I want her gf 🤤

Your eyes everted the chat, trying to focus solely on your cat and to not read the comments, when a robotic voice, you recognized as a donators announcement, caught you off guard.

User11 donated $25 'Bro she's so pretty.'

"Oh um thanks *user11*" you hummed. "Told you they would like you" Ellie said, smirking in content.

"shut up."

"never."

---------

Here you go!!! I finally finished it. It's not great but it's done!

Part Two

Streamer!Ellie Headcanons

NOT PROOFREAD

1K notes · View notes

lazycats-stuff · 5 months

Note

Hello author. I hope your having a splendid day

May I request a reader x batfamily ( a year younger than Damian)

They are a Demi god of lightning and electricity.

He has been having a hard time with cases and failing and stuff like that, too much pressure. And he’s kind of hitting his breaking point.

So during a fight with a villain, alone. The villain corrupts the reader and makes him evil.

For a few months he became a villain and barely anyone could stop him. The batfamily at first didn’t know it was him but during a mission that was orders by the villain that corrupted him, to kill Althea (your oc) but Althea got away with injures but saw his face and told her mom and her mom told bats.

So with this new information the batfamily were more devastated .

With the help of the justice league the batfamily are in a show down with the reader, somewhere near a cliff and they fight and while also talking about their memories together. Reader was too powerful though and restrains everyone with use his electricity. His eyes are red and with dead eyes he walks towards any batfamily member of your choice and was about to deliver the final blow before the bat member looks at them and says ‘ I love you, my son/little brother’ reader hesitates and his eyes widens and filled with tears, the red disappearing.

He’s of course confused and disoriented, he steps back and not notices the cliff. His mind coming back to me as he slowly lets his restaions of the others disappear. He steps back near the cliff and looks back into the abyss and back at his family and friends. With regret and a messed up mind right now thinking he won’t be forgiven, he purposely steps back and fall down the cliff. No one was fast enough to stop his fall and he dies.

They retrieve his body and they’re just depressed and stuff for a while hut Damian won’t allow his only little sibling to die and takes his body to talia and he gets revived back. when he brings unconscious reader back, the batfamily are upset at him for doing a dangerous act but happy that it went well.

Sorry it’s too long.

Hi anon, I hope you have have a splendid day too. Also, don't worry about the length. Lets go.

Summary: (Y/N) gets taken and is broken. The family has to save him.

Warnings: angst, fluff, SUICIDE- read at your own risk everyone!, near death of another character, the fam is suffering...

(Y/N) Wayne, the youngest child in the family and the only child who isn't really human. He is a demigod you see, a demigod of lighting and electricity. I think you can guess that his biological dad is Zeus. Because of it, he got close to Wonder Woman her daughter, Althea. He liked them both and he didn't mind hanging out with them.

He was a good detective too. Bruce was happy and proud, but made sure he wasn't over working himself and neglecting himself like, ahem, Tim. He was different from the rest of the family too. He didn't really have a traumatic past. His mom left him, but the Justice League and Bruce took care of him.

He was really close with his brothers too. Jason and Dick made sure he didn't overwork himself, Tim was fascinated with his powers and how they worked and Damian liked to just hang out with him in general. (Y/N) is the only person he liked and tolerated.

But times have shifted a little bit. (Y/N) was overworked and he was just dead inside. The pressure to solve the cases was piling and piling on and while (Y/N) knew that Bruce wouldn't mind if he took a break, he knew it wouldn't fit his own image. He would be disappointed in him, although not outwardly, inwardly.

He was nearing his breaking his point. He hid it well from the others, not wanting to disappoint them or worry them. He worked himself to the bone, closing in and refusing to open up. He knew he needed to do this and solve this. These cases need to be solved one way or another.

One way or another. It was time to get this shit over with and to do this as best as he can. He needs to get as far away from this pressure and from this breaking point as soon as possible. ASAP. Bruce explained to him that whenever he is nearing that point, he should take a break, but there are people depending him to solve this shit.

(Y/N) hated this shit more than anything else in the world. He really wanted to get this over with. Frustration, anger, sadness... He really wants to feel happy...

Is that so wrong to feel and wish for.

(Y/N) knew that he had to tell someone. Maybe Wonder Woman and Althea would be a better option to talk to, but those two were raised as warriors and they probably don't put emotions on the first place. Mental health is a difficult area to navigate. (Y/N) didn't even sleep from time to time, for a few days, school also being a big overwhelming factor in this stuff. He had good grades, not a straight A student, but still a good student. That was more than enough for Bruce who simply says to do your best in school.

If (Y/N)'s grades dropped, then Bruce would've caught on. Really caught on and he would force (Y/N) to stop with the cases and patrol.

(Y/N) knew it was a bad idea to do this. But there was nobody to help him in this fight. It's said that every single batkid has his own villains. Well, (Y/N) could fricking confirm it. This bastard was a pain in his ass for him and for the rest of the family. (Y/N) was thrown into the wall and he grunted as he tried to get up.

It was difficult, but he managed to do it.

He glared at the villain, clenching his fist. He could feel electricity coursing through his veins, out right refusing to back down. He could feel his eyes turning electric blue. The villain used his powers to disappear into the shadows, making (Y/N) scowl.

" Did you really come here alone? " The villain said from the shadows, making (Y/N) look around, trying to pinpoint the source of the voice. He really didn't like this at all.

" That is brave. Coming here alone to face me. " (Y/N) scowled more as he heard mocking tone in his voice, knowing that facing alone this type of villain is not good and not advisable. (Y/N) threw some electricity at the villain.

He didn't know whether or not he has hit him, but he moved, not wanting to stay somewhere where he could be a sitting duck and more so an easy target for the villain. Shadow and darkness is a scary place and although his family could often be found in it, (Y/N) thought of them as some sort of beacons of light. Sure, they were dark figures, but they were bringing hope and justice.

That sounds like a paradox or oxymoron, but it was true. But being a person in the darkness and shadows and being evil... Yeah... Not good. Really not good.

(Y/N) turned his head when he heard something behind him, but that was a distraction. The real blow came from the front, leaving (Y/N) no time to react as he was thrown into the darkness and into the shadows. (Y/N) couldn't get his bearings together and he was panicking now. He had to get out of this cloud of darkness. He really had to.

He had to.

He started walking, hands reaching out to try and feel where a wall is. Everything was dark and he had no idea where he was going. One guess would be hell, one would be the exit for this stupid building. (Y/N) hoped that he was on his way to the exit, but hey, you can't have it all, can you?

(Y/N) pushed on, but screamed only a few moments later when the shadows pulled him in, invading his mind, breaking through his defenses easily. NO! Fighting was futile though, (Y/N) knew it. (Y/N) knew that very well.

" Just surrender. It will be easier. " The voice said and (Y/N) knew that he couldn't fight and with the last bit of resistance, (Y/N) allowed the darkness to take over his mind.

For now, it was over.

The entire family was loosing their collective minds and their shit. Each in their own way. Some were silent, but some were more emotional and taking it out on criminals. Ahem, Jason. Bruce was quiet and worked non stop to to find his youngest son, his child. Alfred was on the verge of killing someone.

It was difficult to even function normally without their family member. Also, there is another problem on the horizon. A new villain was on the prowl and he was good. Bruce saw he had a lot of training that was far too good for some amateur.

What the hell is going on here?

Bruce was overworked and asked Wonder Woman and Superman to try to locate this new villain because his son was a far more bigger priority than some stupid villain coming to their scene so to speak. Bruce had no time or patience for it.

If only Bruce knew.

Wonder Woman and Superman were doing a good job at tracking the new villain, making sure to communicate with Batman and offer comfort whenever they could. They would often see their nephews, trying to bring some comfort to the poor boys who lost their brother.

For a few months, there were no clues, nothing. Not about a new villain, not about (Y/N) either. Bruce was on the edge of an abyss and he can't do anything to stop himself from going over the edge. A little push was needed and then he would be long gone in that aspect.

The entire batfamily was at the Justice League HQ, looking through intel. Wonder Woman and Superman were in the middle of presenting the intel they managed to obtain when Althea burst through the doors, falling down on her knees, making Wonder Woman gasp before running towards her daughter.

" Althea! " She said, clearly worried and Bruce walked up to the duo, trying to see if Althea is okay.

" Mom, it's (Y/N)... " She said before coughing up more blood, making the inside of her mouth red.

" What about (Y/N)? " Bruce asked quickly, hoping she would stay awake and conscience long enough for him to know. Everyone was waiting patiently for Althea to start.

" (Y/N) is the villain. " She said, coughing even more and Wonder Woman picked her up and ran towards the medical wing of the HQ.

When Wonder Woman left, the room was shrouded in silence. Tense and palpable. Bruce had to sit down. No. No. (Y/N) couldn't have... Dick wiped his eyes as he started crying softly. Bruce broke out of his trance and quickly hugged his sons in a big group hug.

" I know... " Bruce said, pausing to compose himself. " But now we know that (Y/N) is alive. He is somewhat okay. " Bruce said as he swallowed with a bit of difficulty.

(Y/N) was alive. (Y/N) IS alive. They will bring their brother and son home. No matter what.

Well, (Y/N) got stronger during his kidnapping. His eyes were red and nobody could even get close to him. Tim and Dick were unable to move from being restrained by electricity and the other three members were trying everything they could fricking think of. Everything. They have tried to awake his memories. From when he was little, from when they did stupid pranks... Anything they could think of.

Nothing worked.

Soon enough, everyone was restrained with electricity and (Y/N) looked like he was going to kill them. Bruce watched his son as he walked over to him, ready to finish him. Bruce watched in silence as (Y/N) was ready to kill him. But there was one thing that they didn't try just yet.

Bruce watched as his son raised his fist up, ready to strike. Ready to kill.

" I love you son. " Bruce said as he smile and (Y/N) stopped.

The red was gone. The red was gone! Bruce smiled even more and the boys were waiting with a baited breath as to what would (Y/N) do. They didn't expect the tears. But by God, it was a sight they were hoping.

The shadow chains were getting broken.

(Y/N) was slowly moving backwards, going to the edge of the cliff, hands gripping his hair and head. Everything was coming back to him... What he did to Althea... His brothers... His dad, father.... What he did when he was under the villain's control...

(Y/N) looked back at the edge of a cliff, seeing the waves crash at the hard stone... Usually, (Y/N) would love to watch it, just to relax. But now, (Y/N) only sees the dark abyss. Everyone at one point is just standing at the edge of that abyss and then, sometimes, the abyss blinks back at you.

He glanced back at his family, who were out of the restraints, just waiting for (Y/N) to say something. (Y/N) couldn't really see their faces due to tears, but he did wonder one single thing.

Would they forgive him? Would Althea forgive him?

(Y/N) shook his head as he took another backwards, he could feel the edge, right at his heels. His mind was in shambles, ruins... He wouldn't be forgiven...

He knew that his family wouldn't forgive him. But Althea might kill him... (Y/N) looked back at his family once more, one last time. He swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment.

" I'm sorry. "

Bruce's eyes widened and he knew exactly what he was going to do and he got up and ran towards (Y/N), but it was too late. (Y/N) took a step over the edge, falling backwards into the waves and onto the hard rocks. Bruce leapt forward, hands grabbing the edge, but it was too late.

Bruce watched his son laying down there, waves washing over him. Bruce closed his eyes as he heard a scream behind him and then there was sobbing. Bruce looked up towards the sky, which opened up and Bruce for a moment thought that the sky was crying over their son.

The boys were destroyed and Bruce was destroyed with them... Oh God... Alfred will be destroyed too... Bruce allowed his tears to fall, and those tears were mixed with the rain.

Bruce swore that someone came in and took a part of soul. Just took it and ripped it out of his chest. A part of his heart was also taken and shattered. He look back at his sons, quickly grouping them into a hug, wanting to give them as much comfort as he can.

" Why? " Damian asked, shaken to his core.

" He said he was sorry... He thought we wouldn't forgive him... " Bruce said, burying his face into Damian's hair.

The boys all cried, crying out for their brother. Their souls and hearts were shattered too.

The world seemed to cry for (Y/N) Wayne.

Unfortunately, they couldn't bury (Y/N) just yet. They had to make sure that there were no restraints on his mind and body... And maybe they weren't ready to bury him just yet. They all hoped for a miracle to happen. Maybe (Y/N) would wake up and just be hey guys... But they all knew that wouldn't happen.

They were all grieving for (Y/N) in their own ways, but Damian was hurting the most. He was thinking about (Y/N) all the time and he cried alone in his room, thinking about his brother. The house was silent and there was no way it could ever be the same.

Damian thought about his grandfather and the Lazarus pit... Maybe... Just maybe...

The way back was easier than the way to Lazarus pit. Talia didn't expect him to come, especially not with his younger brother, well, half brother but still. Talia met (Y/N) and she did like him. She didn't know what happened, but she felt bad for the poor boy. She also didn't expect that Damian would want to use the pit, but she wasn't going to stop him.

She helped him put (Y/N) in the pit, waiting and watching. The color was coming back to his cheeks. There was that infamous white streak in his hair... Damian watched with a bated breath, hoping it would work.

After a few minutes, they checked for a pulse. Damian sighed in relief as he felt a pulse. His brother was alive... He is alive.... Talia watched as Damian took (Y/N) into his arms, lifting him out of the water, hugging him tightly.

She left the two brothers alone, allowing Damian to have a moment to get himself ready. He had to go back home...

As said before, the way back was easier and oddly enough, he made it just in time for dinner. He didn't question it and walked through, carrying his now alive brother.

Bruce spat out his water and the rest paled. There was (Y/N), but he looked like he was sleeping. He had more color than he had...

" Damian, " Bruce started as he stood up, not sure what more to say. The rest was quiet. " What did you do? "

" I used the Lazarus pit. "

That sentence... Bruce's eyes widened as he walked closer to his now alive son... He took (Y/N) into his arms, trying not to cry. (Y/N) was alive... He is alive.

" Lets put him to bed. " Bruce said with a strain in his voice. The other 3 boys jumped from their seats to really see if their brother is really alive.

(Y/N) was alive... They all cried softly as they realized that (Y/N) was alive... (Y/N) is alive!

They were happy, but mad at the same time since Damian didn't tell anyone of them what the hell he was planning. But they were happy and maybe their family could be whole again, once more.

#dc comics #dc x male reader #x male reader #batfamily #bruce wayne x male reader #batman x male reader #jason todd x male reader #red hood x male reader #dick grayson x male reader #nightwing x male reader #tim drake x male reader #red robin x male reader #damian wayne x male reader #robin x male reader

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astarionslittletreat · 5 months

Text

Eat You Alive

Gortash x female Durge/Dark Urge

Rating: Explicit

You must be 18 years or older to interact with this post in any way

Word Count: 1k

Tags: smut, sex, piv sex, over-stimulation, bleeding, blood, biting, bondage, domination, threats of violence, threats of murder, sadism, masochism, unhealthy relationship, established relationship, dub-con, unethical use of magic, cock warming, forced orgasm

Author's Note: This is not meant to depict how a relationship should function in any way. Neither character posses any redeeming qualities or are meant to be idolized. This is a work of indulgent fiction. Please read the tags before proceeding.

Summary: She's returned to him, his Bhaalspawn. After vanishing from him without a trace, he's got her exactly where he wants her. Tied up and waiting for him with murderous lust.

Wrists and ankles shackled by purple translucent magic, the Bhaalspawn strains against the spell holding her down. Muscles tensing, she flexes her arms, tries to kick her spread legs but to no avail. She cannot break free. It’s not explicitly uncomfortable. She’s naked, true, exposed to the dark room and her surroundings, but the silk sheets she retrained on have been freshly laundered. The spell curling around her extremities is warm and radiates the feeling of pure magic that sends shivers down her spine as she tries to pull away. She’s of two minds at the moment. The Dark Urge that usually slumbers like a dragon in the back of her mind is wide awake–demanding to be freed. Ordering that they be let go this instant and repaid in blood and flesh and bone. The other part of her mind, her true self, her weak self, nearly lost. Drowning in the madness of her carnality. Aching, wanting, dripping for her lover to touch her. To unburden her of her desires–every single last one of them.

“You’re fucking gorgeous like that–” Lord Enver Gortash’s dark eyes grow hungry as he watches his Bhaalspwan arch her back in a futile attempt to break free. “Spread out like a good girl who just wants to be eaten.” He purrs. Taunting her until she’s so filled with rage, Enver can feel it radiating off her bare skin. “Look at me.” It’s a command tinged with magic, and the Bhaal babe meets his gaze. For the briefest–shortest moment her eyes go soft. It’s so quick, he would have missed it if he hadn’t been staring directly at her because it instantly vanishes. Consumed by the fire burning through her veins. Her murderous rampage simmering in the pit of her stomach. Enver’s cock throbs at the sight of his dark and demented love.

Her eyes dart back and forth across his bedchambers. A feral animal caught in a trap. Searching for a way to get out. To get to him. Restrained as she is, the Bhaalspawn flinches as Enver traces the scars on the inside of her thighs with his fingertips. Some he recognizes, some are new, requiring him to catalog her body once more. She trembles at his touch with a rage and bloodlust that makes Enver grow hard. His cock swells as he palms himself. Stroking just enough to take the edge off as he lowers himself to the bed. Drawn in by her tender fury he moves to worship his lover. To take her into his mouth and press his lips against every new scar she acquired without him by her side.

A sinful mix of Infernal–and possibly Abyssal, if Enver heard correctly, falls from the lips of the Bhaalspawn. Spit like venom. Sung like hymns. “That’s right my love,” Enver praises the words he doesn’t fully understand, but knows all the same. He knows exactly what his love needs before biting down, hard. Blood blooms over Enver’s tongue and the Dark Urge moans in delight.

“I’m going to fucking kill you.” She threatens beautifully. Spitting and hissing in the common tongue for Ever to understand.

He chuckles, “I sincerely hope so, my love.” He had thought himself dead once already. He certainly hadn’t been alive these past few months at the very least. Not when she had disappeared. Gone, without word. Without trace. Without any explanation that was due to him. Of course, he knows now what happened, but the bitter sting of life without what made Enver whole had scarred him. Changed him. A piece of himself vanished when his love disappeared. Abandoning their well-laid plans, the city–him. The fury and indignity at being left behind after so long never quite left. Orin’s death helped, true, but this– this is so much sweeter.

“I’m going to break every bone in your worthless body before I filet you alive!” Spit coats her lips as the Dark Urge screams, and her body fails in painful delight. More–she wants more. She needs Enver now instead of him taking his sweet fucking time.

Evner doesn’t spare her the prep time. She doesn’t need it, doesn’t deserve it. Between her scarred and bleeding thighs, Enver presses the head of his cock to her entrance before pressing in in one long stroke. Settling himself until he’s fully seated inside his love. Oh how he’s fucking missed this. Her mewling gasps of his name. The drool sliding past her lips. The way she tightens, squeezing him as he presses his thumb to her clit. Circling and toying with her. Forcing her into a breakneck speed while he sits there. He spits on her clit for good measure. There will be time for pain later. Right now, the only thing he desires is to feel the Bhaalspawn breaking apart around him.

“Wait!” Panic. “Stop, I can’t–”

“You’re going to fucking come, now.”

Another command, bold but dangerously quiet. Tinged with venom and love. She doesn’t need a spell to obey this time. His familiar heavy weight, his clever hands working her body better than her own self knew how. It was inescapable. Her release surges through her body as she clamps down hard. Her body strains against the magic holding her down, her muscles taught and aching as she tumbles recklessly through the pleasure forced upon her. It hurts. It hurts and she likes that it hurts. That it’s messy and quick. That her legs are weak and she can feel wetness seeping out of her cunt where Enver is still seated and hard. She gasps. Gulping down air as she falls from her high. Her mind floats. The Dark Urge temporarily calmed like a wild beast to music.

Enver allows her a few seconds respite. She had earned that much at least. But the night was young, and he still missed his deadly little Bhaalspawn. He waited until her gasping died down just a bit before he began to circle and toy with her now oversensitive clit. “Another, my pet.”

#baldur's gate 3 #baldurs gale 3 #baldur's gate 3 fanfic #enver gortash #lord enver gortash #enver gortash x dark urge #gortash x durge #gortash x dark urge #the dark urge #gortash smut #enver gortash x durge #prompt request #astarionslittletreat

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