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leonsdolly · 23 days

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Canto V

Plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem! reader

Synopsis: Leon's back from Spain, but there's something off about him.

CW: nsfw 18+, p in v, dubcon, implied somnophilia, breeding kink, bruising, titplay, cunnilingus, creampie, unprotected sex, forced orgasms, overstimulation, lots of spit, choking, reader passes out during sex

WC: 2.4k

It may as well be a universally known concept that when you’re in a relationship with a government agent, you’d better get used to being strangers with the finer details. Who, what, when, where, and why made themselves at home in your vocabulary while you were dating Leon. It was all futile; he couldn't ever tell you where he was going for his next mission or when he was coming back to your grabby hands. Swearing confidentiality with your left hand on the Bible trumps a loving, concerned girlfriend apparently.

Leon had been gone for a few days this time around, and you weren’t sure when exactly he’d be back. You prayed to every divinity who cared to listen that he would come back home safe and sound to you. You did so every time he left. The government calls, he runs, you make your deals with Jesus.

The clock strikes midnight as you flit around your apartment, closing the kitchen and ensuring everything is locked up for the night. You got home from work rather late, and you’re looking forward to falling into a deep slumber, especially since you’ve taken your everything shower, completed your skincare routine, and changed into a cute teddy bear print cami with matching boy shorts. While your heart aches for your absent boyfriend, you throw your shoulders back and keep your chin high, braving another night of sleeping alone in your queen-sized bed. You slide under the covers and turn off your bedside lamp before closing your eyes and ultimately slipping into a welcomed state of unconsciousness.

Scratching, more scratching… Huh? You blearily open your eyes before squinting at the time displayed on your alarm clock - 1:48 am. Did something wake you? You don’t hear anything, yet you have the sinking feeling that something did lull you out of your sleep. You fumble to turn the lamp on - thankfully, there’s nothing standing in the corner of your room or anything else that would have you screaming bloody murder until your lungs collapsed. The covers are pulled aside as you sit up in bed, planting your feet on the hardwood floor.

Once your feet lightly hit the floor, a terrible shuffling resounds from the living room which makes your blood freeze over. Your limbs are immobilized, but your eyes move towards the door, like you’re in a state of sleep paralysis and your demon’s lurking around the corner. Heavy footsteps grow closer and closer to your door, and you watch the doorknob turn in slow motion.

The door swings open, and your body dissolves.

“Leon?” Your eyes blink at him, unsure for a second if he’s the product of a sleep paralysis induced hallucination.

Your lover stands before you with a somewhat dazed expression himself - dark circles engraved below his exhausted eyes, faded bruises on his face, dark veins trailing across his pale skin. He stands transfixed for what feels like forever before he blinks. “Baby.”

The sound of his voice breaks you out of your own stupor, and you launch off the bed and straight into his arms. You bury your face in his chest as you wrap your arms around him tightly. “You’re home.”

He shudders violently before his arms encircle you as he buries his face in your hair, inhaling the smell of your shampoo - ah, figs and camellia, a breath of fresh air from guts and mold. “I missed you… I almost didn't…” His voice is unsteady, wavering in a way that makes you want to never let go of him.

“It's okay, my love. You're home now, you’re safe.”

“I almost didn't make it… You don’t know what happened…” His hands shake slightly as he grips onto you a little harder.

A lump forms in your throat at the realization that he could have very well perished during this mission. It’s not often that he lets you see him in such a vulnerable state, so hearing the fear decorate his tone causes your heart to squeeze painfully.

“What happened?”

“You know I can’t tell you that.”

“Fine, at least tell me where you were. S’not like I can head there and foil the government’s plans after it’s already over. ”

“...Spain.”

You wonder what kind of horrors had transpired in Spain, but you know better than to inquire further. You hold him close and rub his back soothingly, trying to make him feel as loved as possible. “It's over now, right?”

“Right…” A hint of worry colors his tone as he presses a kiss to your head. “Can we just go to sleep?”

“Of course,” you reach up to gently rub the shadowy veins visible underneath his eyes and creeping up his neck. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Guess my body just went through a lot back there.”

You take his arms, turning them over and over and examining them closely for any serious wounds. Thankfully, you don’t see anything except for the occasional minuscule scrape, though the unnaturally dark veins worry you. You’re afraid they may be the result of some sort of vascular impairment, so you make a promise to yourself that you’ll drag him to the doctor’s office soon for a proper assessment. You help him wash up, letting him use your products so he’s soft and smelling like you. You hold each other close in bed, relishing the feeling of finally being able to sleep in each other’s arms after time apart.

Ouch. You wince slightly as you wake up to the sun streaming in through your lace curtains. You drowsily fumble for Leon’s hand to hold first thing in the morning like you usually do, but the space next to you is empty. You certainly hope you hadn’t just dreamed of his homecoming.

“Baby?” You croak as you wince again. Are you naked? And why are you so sore? Your eyes trail down to your arms which are littered with bruises. Eyes wide like cherry pies, you tug the comforter off to discover that the rest of your bare body is marked in a similar fashion - bruises bloomed across your neck, teeth marks engraved in your breasts, handprints stamped onto your hips like someone had been gripping onto them for dear life. Trembling, you slowly raise yourself up to a sitting position. You squirm as you feel slick in between your thighs, how fresh it is, you can't say for sure.

“Leon?” Your voice sounds foreign to your own ears as you call out for your lover.

You’re dazed as you take a step forward, feeling your body spinning like a ballerina, a delicate little thing that’s been used and abused and stuffed in a box marked FRAGILE. A strong pair of arms wrap around you from behind, anchoring you to his bare chest- they’re so much warmer than your Leon’s. Your eyes flutter as they gaze straight up into a pair that look like your Leon's except they’re murkier, hungrier.

Inky blood vessels coagulate underneath his skin, giving him a mottled appearance. They interweave throughout his body like morbid ribbons decorating his limbs for a funeral. He breathes heavily as he squeezes at your already tender body, causing you to whimper.

“Leon, ‘m sore… What did you do?” A low growl reverberates within him as he pulls you back onto the bed, shoving you onto your back. Before you can interrogate him further, his lips smash against yours. His kisses are all teeth and slobber, filled with nothing but the desire to ravage everything you hold near and dear.

“Mine, all mine,” he groans as he latches his lips onto your neck, decorating it with his very own artistic flair. “Mine to keep forever.” You whimper at the way his lips assault your most sensitive point like a wolf ready to tear out the wide eyed fawn’s throat.

“Fuck, feels so good,” you moan which further ignites that primal instinct in him that wants to give you the greatest pleasure you’ve ever known, all for the sake of claiming you as his very own mate. He squeezes your tits together and spits on them before rubbing it into your nipples with the rough pads of his thumbs. You squeal at the stimulation as he takes a nipple in his mouth, suckling at it as hard as he can before letting go with a pop.

“God, Leon,” you cry out as he continues to suck on your tits. He pushes them together as hard as he can and forces both nipples into his mouth so he can lap at them like a creature who stumbled across an eternal spring in the vast desert.

“Love these tits,” he groans. “Sweet fucking nipples, made to suck on all day and night. To think they’re gonna get even bigger when they're full of milk.” He pushes his face in between them before finally pulling away with a slap to each one, watching them jiggle with a carnal gaze.

“M-milk?” You whimper as he kisses across your abdomen and lowers down to your leaking pussy.

“Yeah,” he pants as he spreads your dripping folds open with his thumbs, inspecting the remnants of the now stale cum he had dumped inside while you slept like an unsuspecting angel. “Your body has accepted my gift.” A tinge of fear courses through your veins at this last line; you can’t put your finger on why it makes your skin crawl, but they don’t sound like your Leon’s words.

“Gift?” You involuntarily moan as he lets himself drool on your pussy before pressing sloppy kisses straight onto your clit.

“You’ll take my seed.” He starts lapping at your pussy ruthlessly, but not before grabbing your thighs and forcing them to clamp around his head, keeping him fused to your most intimate parts. Your sweet noises overflow the room as your back arches like he’s possessing you, dragging you down to flail around for eternity among the powerful black winds. Your voice turns shrill as you cum on his salacious tongue. Canto V.

When he finally emerges for air, his eyes are now murkier than before - the once serene blue that inspired such tranquility is now charred, tenebrous. “Leon,” your eyes tear up as you gaze down at him with your elbows propping you up.

“Shh,” he smirks as he raises himself up to pump his hard cock a few times before aligning himself with your pretty hole. “My baby, my lamb. Gonna get your beautiful belly all swollen for me. Gonna creampie you as many times as it takes.” He pushes himself inside your sopping cunt as you wail for the heavens. Your pussy allows him to enter with ease, clenching around him like it needed him to breathe - which it did. He begins to thrust into you with all the vigor of a madman.

“So good for me, my fucking girl,” he pants as he continues to pound into you. He leers at the way your tits bounce at each thrust before leaning over to spit on them. Your chest gleams with his saliva as you moan louder than you ever have before, like your throat really is being ripped out by the big bad wolf. His cock reaches deep, hitting all the spots you know nothing else can, and before you know it, you’re cumming all over him as he continues to pummel into you. Your nails dig into his back as you try to claw onto anything that can keep you physically grounded through your orgasm.

He laughs a little to himself as he continues to fuck you despite the fact you just came. “L-leon,” you cry out. “S’too much, too sensitive.”

“You can take it, been taking it all night.” His balls slap against your ass as he leans down to jam his lips against yours, licking into your mouth until your head’s all dizzy again. He rears back to push your legs up against your chest as his cock pounds into you; the new angle’s making your eyes roll all the way back into your head. “Oh, fuck,” he murmurs to himself as his breath hitches and he stares down at you losing yourself in the mating press. “That’s a good breeding bitch.” His words are hushed, but they bounce around in your head and yank another orgasm out of you, leaving you sobbing from the overstimulation.

“S’okay baby,” he coos as he kisses your salty tears away and wraps a hand around your smooth throat. “You’re doing so well, accepting my gift.” His eyes unsettle you, damn near pitch black as they peer right into yours. Your battered pussy tightens in tandem with the hand gripping your throat. Your tongue lolls out as you start seeing stars, and he sucks on it. “Give me another one, little lamb.”

“C-can’t,” you slur as your limbs dissolve. You want to give him another one. Want it, want to bear his child, want to exist for him. Want to breathe him, let him pump through your circulatory system. His breathing becomes erratic, damn near hysterical, as he nears his own high. He rubs your swollen clit to bring you closer to yet another orgasm, though you wonder if you’ll live to tell the tale once you reach it. He pounds into you as hard as he can, unrestrained growls falling from his lips as he dumps his load into you. You manage to cum yet again, release so intense on your already wasted form, that it shatters your senses. You’re vaguely aware of someone shrieking, and it takes a while to realize that it’s coming from your own mouth. You did it. Your vision goes black, and you slump into unconsciousness.

The first thing you perceive when you regain consciousness is the calloused hand gently caressing your face as if you’re a china doll. “Leon?” Your mumble brings him to slowly gaze at you with concern and shame.

“Baby.” He raises his other hand to hold yours with all the love and tenderness he could muster. “How are you feeling?”

“Sore… tired…” You frown slightly as you try to sit up, but he stops you from straining yourself. “What happened, Leon?”

“I’m so sorry.” His eyes are cast downwards as if the floor will be more forgiving than his own lover. “I’m not okay.”

“It’s okay,” you frown as you squeeze his hand reassuringly. “You didn’t hurt me.”

“I could’ve. I thought this thing had resolved itself in Spain.”

“We’ll figure this out together.” You gently tug his arm, signaling to him that for now, you just want him laying with you. He slides into the bed and cautiously rolls you over on your side so that he’s spooning you from behind. He buries his face in the crook of your neck and gives your belly a pat.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy oneshot #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #resident evil

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txttletale · 11 months

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nothing will make you feel like you're going fucking insane more than learning literally any amount about the 'troubled teen industry'. it is one of the most on its-face evil concepts imaginable and is even more evil in execution and it just makes you want to scream "hey has anyone noticed how fucking insanely evil this is!" but all you hear back is a resounding silence because the evil just like many others has faded into the banal background noise of 'society as normal' because it in fact facilitates the formation and maintenance of 'normal'. anyway youth liberation now

#tattletxt

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littlexdeaths · 2 months

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i called her on the phone and she touched herself - e.m.

ghostface eddie munson x fem reader

18+ ONLY MDNI

warnings: voyerism, mutual masturbation, phone sex, eddie’s a perv but we’re into it, alluding to a knife kink, lots of scream references

i ended up taking a look at this fic today and making some little tweaks and i love it so much more now. this is another repost from my old account but i promise new content will be coming soon. enjoy xx.

word count: 1.5k

The phone rings, loud and shrill in your ear.

It sound causes you to flinch in surprise, heart thudding in your chest as you reach for the receiver. The cheesy horror movie playing on your small tv set now forgotten as you pick up the line.

“Hello?” Your voice sounds a little breathless, a deep chuckle resounding in your ear.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

The voice on the other end was husky, smooth yet confident. “Who is this?” You feign a bored tone, your thighs squeezing together unintentionally.

You’d never been so attracted to someone’s voice before— and he’d only spoken two words to you. But something about it felt oddly… familiar.

“Were you expecting a call from someone?” The male asks, shifting slightly on your bed to glance at your bedside clock. 8:43 PM.

Steve would still be working at the video store, or he was supposed to be. Unless he decided to prank call you during a lull in customers. Which could very well be a possibility.

“Maybe… why do you wanna know?” Your tone is overly flirty as you decide to play along. The call now much more exciting than the movie playing out on your tv screen.

You’d never take a suggestion from Keith ever again.

“Hm, a pretty girl like you must be waiting on a call from a boyfriend?” You can’t help but laugh at that notion, serious relationships weren’t your thing. As attractive and persistent as Steve was, a relationship is the last thing you wanted to tangle yourself in right now.

But he clearly was still trying too hard.

You breathe out a heavy sigh, “Nope, no boyfriend.”

Despite being a usually observant person, you still weren’t aware of the eyes trained on your half naked figure. The dark cloaked figure watching from the tree that faced your bedroom window, “Mm, lucky me then.”

You glance back at the screen as the music begins to swell, hinting that one of the teenagers would be killed off at any moment. A loud scream fills the room, as the killer takes the camp counselor by surprise.

“What’s that sound?” He asks, unable to see the television from his vantage point.

“Oh, just a movie.”

The male hums deeply, the sound causes you to squirm against your bedsheets. Heat pools in your lower belly as you mindlessly let your fingertips dance along the edge of your lace panties.

“What kind of movie?” He probes, his dark eyes now drawn to your thighs.

You begin shifting, laying back against your pillows. Resting the receiver between your ear and shoulder as you spread your legs open. Unintentionally giving him the perfect view as you dip your fingers past the flimsy material. The sight causes his cock to stir beneath his dark jeans.

“A scary one,” you reply, despite this being the least scary thing you’ve ever seen.

Eddie grins beneath the white ghostface mask, sheathing his blade once more before he reaches for the zipper on his pants. Tugging it down to free his hardened cock, pulling his mouth away from the phone to spit into the palm of his hand. Now wrapping it around his thick length as your fingers begin circling over your clit.

While the brunette had come here with the intention to scare you… this turn of events was much more interesting.

“Oh, you like scary movies?”

He grins, enjoying how your voice seems to shake over the line, but not for the reason he initially expected.

“Y-Yes…” Only pleasure laces your tone.

Eddie inhales deeply, watching as you twirl your fingers around the phone cord with your other hand. The light of the television illuminating your body with an almost ethereal like glow, “Hmm, what’s your favorite scary movie, sweetheart?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, now shoving your soaked underwear down your thighs. Kicking them off the edge of your bed as you dip a finger inside yourself. Chewing on your lower lip to hold back the moan you wanted to let escape as you eagerly slip another digit inside.

This wasn’t the first time you’d touched yourself like this with Steve on the other end of the phone, but this was by far the most exciting.

Little did you know the male on the other end was definitely not Steve Harrington.

Dropping the twisted cord you grip the receiver in your unoccupied hand, eyes fluttering shut as you begin pumping your fingers deeper inside yourself. Letting your thumb brush over your swollen clit as you curl your fingers up.

“Halloween,” you breathe, a low grunt sounding on the other end of the line as the male strokes his cock in tandem with each thrust of your fingers. The slick sounds reverberate softly through the receiver.

“Is that the one with the guy in the white mask who walks around stalking babysitters?” He asks, despite already knowing the answer himself.

A soft ‘mhm’ leaving you as you revel in his throaty moans.

“I liked that one… it was scary.” His voice drops an octave, Eddie unintentionally slipping into his dungeon master voice.

Keeping the cell phone tucked into his shoulder as he adjusts himself between the tree branches. Increasing the pace of his fist as he continues to watch you pleasure yourself through your window.

The movie playing out on your tv screen is now long forgotten as his deep voice is the only thing you can focus on.

“I like that thing you’re doing with your voice, Steve. It’s sexy.” You whimper, already feeling yourself teetering on the edge of bliss. No longer able to keep up the oblivious act anymore.

Eddie chuckles darkly, sending a shiver up your spine. “Oh sweetheart, this isn’t Steve.”

As much as those words should frighten you, it only seems to increase the tightening in your lower belly. The jealous edge to them causes a high pitched whine to leave your lips, pumping your fingers even faster into your dripping heat. Increasing the pressure on your clit, as the male’s deep moans fill your ears.

“God you little slut, you gonna cum f’me?” He growls, feeling his own orgasm drawing near.

His cock twitches in his rough palm as he observes your lower half lifting up off the mattress. Thighs trembling as your orgasm washes over you, milky white spilling over onto his ringed fingers.

Heavy breathing is all that is passed back and forth between the two of you for a moment, your body falling limp against the mattress.

“Fuck, you look so pretty when you cum, baby…” while it was whispered into the phone, you still heard it.

You recognized the husky voice instantly— the pretty but rugged metalhead who always gave you a discount on your weed.

Eddie Munson.

Your eyes instantly snap open, dropping the phone as you sit up. Letting your fingers slip from your drenched core as you rise to your feet. Padding over to your bedroom window and gazing out into the dark night.

You catch sight of a white ghostface mask in between the branches opposite your window. Your eyes meet as you reach back over for the phone, your juices smearing over the handle as you grab onto it. Amusement dances over your features as you tilt your head at him.

“Do you spy on all the girls you deal to, Munson?” You pause, clearly catching the male off guard, “Or am I a special case?”

Eddie doubles back, stuttering out a reply as he attempts to disguise his voice once more but it was too late— you caught him.

“I promise this isn’t what it seems, sweetheart.”

A small giggle leaves your lips as he fumbles his way down from the tree, removing the mask so he could see properly. His bangs stick to his forehead, pale skin flushed pink under the bright moonlight.

He drops the phone and his knife in his haste, the glint of the blade catching your attention. The way the sharp metal reflects in the light makes your heart race, arousal coursing through your veins. Licking your lips as he picks up the dropped items, his brown eyes meet yours through the glass.

“I think I know why you came here, Munson…” you hum into the receiver once he returns the phone to his ear, your sultry tone making his cock stir in his jeans again.

“Why’s that, sweet thing?” He bites back, his dark eyes not leaving your silhouette.

“Someone wants to play psycho killer… but it looks like you need a helpless victim.”

You lean your forearms on your windowsill, noticing the way his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows down a moan. His ringed fingers grip tightly onto the handle of the blade, the male desperately hanging on your every word. “I’m more than happy to oblige.”

Eddie curses, your words going straight to his now throbbing cock. There was no way he was passing you up on this offer.

“Now… tell me Mr. Ghostface, what do you want?” You feign a frightened tone as you pose the question.

His shallow breaths mingle with the static on the line, anticipation bubbling up inside you.

“I wanna know what your insides feel like.” He groans, his words sending heat straight between your legs. You squirm as you watch him pull the mask down over his face, glancing back up at you with a predatory look.

“Then come and find out, freak.”

Click.

#the freak writes 🫧#eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut #ghostface!eddie munson #perv!eddie munson #ghostface!eddie munson x reader #perv!eddie x reader

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solarmorrigan · 5 months

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I'm late, I'm sorry, but here's the full fic from this WIP post yesterday!

[CW: bullying, references to canon racism and violence, mentions of recreational drug use]

Steve makes it to the bathroom down the hall from the shop classroom—the one that’s far from the cafeteria and always empty during lunch, where people really only come to smoke, anyway—before he completely loses his shit.

“Son of a bitch!” He’s almost screaming as he hauls off and punches the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, putting every ounce of anger and frustration and humiliation into it, hitting it so hard that the whole construction rattles.

“Motherfucker,” he hisses, shaking his hand out, because it had hurt, and then he winds up to do it again, to make it hurt more, because at least he’s in control of that much, at least it’s anything but what he’s feeling right now.

“That’s a good way to break your hand, y’know,” a voice comes from the doorway, startling Steve into pivoting and aiming his fist at whoever is coming after him now.

He stops short when he sees nobody but Eddie goddamn Munson standing there, cringing into a startled flinch to protect his head as Steve nearly swings at him.

“Jesus shit,” Steve barks, dropping his fist and stepping back, shaky with adrenaline. “You walk like a fucking ghost, Munson.”

Munson peeks out of his defensive crouch before straightening up and sending a meaningful glance at the stall wall. “Somehow, I don’t think you would’ve heard me even if I was making all the noise in the world.”

Steve shrugs, his shoulders staying up near his ears in a defensive slouch. He can feel something dropping out of his hair and down the side of his face, and he feels the humiliation all over again as he tries to swipe it away.

“What do you want?” he asks, beyond caring if he sounds rude; he thinks he’s entitled, considering.

This time, Munson shrugs, a rolling, casual thing that belies the sharp look in his eyes. “Came to see if you were okay, I guess.”

Steve snorts. Is he okay?

Like, in the grand scheme of things, the answer is a really shaky “maybe.” But lately? It’s more of a resounding “no, not fucking really.”

Aside from everything else – aside from the nightmares, aside from the headaches, aside from the fact he’d had to drop basketball after his concussion, aside from having no real friends or allies at school now that he and Nancy aren’t together – aside from all that, there’s Billy fucking Hargrove.

Hargrove, who had taken all of a month to start pushing Steve’s buttons again. Who had taken less than a few days after that to realize that Steve wasn’t going to push back.

And then he’d started looking for the boundary line, pushing and pushing, shoulder-checking Steve in the hall, tripping him in the single class they share, knocking shit out of his hands, shoving him when his back is turned, all the while spitting names and insults, until it had culminated into today’s fiasco: dumping a carton of chocolate milk over the top of Steve’s head in the middle of the cafeteria with a deeply unconvincing “oops.”

It had gone dead silent, every eye in the room on Steve’s red face and Hargrove’s triumphant grin, while Steve had only been able to stand there, shaking with startled rage as milk had sluiced out of his hair and seeped into his collar and down the back of his shirt, knowing that he couldn’t retaliate.

He couldn’t.

He’d marched out of the cafeteria, shame and anger growing as voices had bloomed up behind him, already gossiping and speculating.

So, no, actually, he’s not really okay.

But instead of saying any of this to Munson, he just scoffs and turns away, looking towards the sinks.

“Wouldn’t have expected you to care,” he says, injecting as much lazy indifference into his voice as he can, trying to armor up the way he used to. “The number of speeches you’ve given about how much me and my group suck, I’d have figured you’d be the first to say I deserved it.”

Munson doesn’t say anything for a moment, and Steve doesn’t look back to see if the barb landed. He doesn’t really care, he just wants the guy to go away so Steve can finish his meltdown and clean up in peace.

“Not your group anymore, though,” Munson finally says.

Steve shrugs, pulling a wad of paper towels from the dispenser; might as well move on to cleanup if Munson isn’t going to fuck off. He guesses his little breakdown can wait until he gets home.

“Hasn’t been for over a year, now, right?” Munson goes on. Steve says nothing, using a dry paper towel to try to blot up the mess. “And whatever you were like then, you’re… less like that now. Like, anyone paying attention can see you’re kinda trying something new this year.”

Steve ignores the way that makes something catch in his throat. “Thanks for the endorsement,” he drawls. “I’ll put it on my college apps: Not as much of an asshole as I used to be.”

“It’s a start,” Munson says, and Steve glances up in time to see him shrug in the mirror.

“I guess,” Steve mutters.

“And, uh – hey, I grabbed your stuff,” Munson says, holding up the binder and notebooks that Steve’s attention had glossed over until now. “Some of it’s kinda… milky, sorry.”

Steve blinks. “Uh. Thank you,” he says, stunned for a moment into sincerity.

Munson shrugs again, putting Steve’s stuff up on the narrow shelf on the wall that no one ever uses to hold things because it’s probably never been cleaned. Not like Steve’s stuff is clean now, anyway.

Steve turns back to the sink, wetting a few of the paper towels and waiting to see if Munson is going to leave now.

“What I can’t figure out–” nope, apparently he’s staying, “–is why you’re in here punching the wall, instead of out there, punching Hargrove.”

At least that makes more sense; he’s here out of curiosity, not concern.

“I mean, most people would’ve hit him for that,” Munson goes on. “I would’ve.”

But Steve’s already shaking his head before Munson’s finished speaking. “Not worth it,” he says firmly.

“What, afraid of a little suspension?” Munson asks, almost teasing. “Pretty sure the school would let their golden boy off with a slap on the wrist.”

“Not anybody’s golden boy anymore,” Steve snaps, scrubbing a wet paper towel through his hair in a vain attempt to get some of the rapidly-drying milk out. “I dropped basketball, remember? Didn’t even go in for swimming this year.”

“Oh, yeah,” Munson says, like he’d genuinely forgotten. “Sorry, not really into the whole… sports scene. Like, at all.”

Steve shrugs. “Whatever. Not important. I don’t give a shit about being suspended. I don’t even care if he hits me back. Not like I need another knock to the head at this point, but – whatever.” Steve shakes his head. “It’s just that he could– there are other things he could do.”

In the mirror, Munson’s eyebrows go up. “What, does he have blackmail on you or some shit?”

Steve raises his brows right back. “If he did, do you really think I’d tell you?”

Munson tips his head to the side. “Yeah, okay, fair enough.”

“Anyway, he doesn’t have blackmail, he has… leverage, I guess.” Steve lets out a harsh sigh and gives up on his hair for now, wetting a paper towel to try to get some of the milk off his face and neck, instead.

“…are you allowed to tell me what that is?” Munson asks after a moment.

And for a moment, Steve thinks about it. The only people in school who really know are Nancy and Jonathan, and he’s asked them to follow his lead in just – not talking about it. He hasn’t told anybody any version of what happened in the Byers’ house, or why Billy seems to have made him his personal stress ball. But who the hell would Munson tell? All his nerdy friends in his game club?

(No, no, that’s not fair. Steve doesn’t even know those people, and he’s trying not to be that guy anymore. He doesn’t have to be nice, but he shouldn’t be unkind.)

(The point stands, though – who would Munson even tell?)

“Do you know why Hargrove beat my face in back in November?” Steve finally asks, avoiding Munson’s eyes in the mirror by focusing very hard on getting the tacky milk off his hairline.

“Well, I’ve heard most of the rumors by now, I think. Heard Hargrove’s version of events, as has pretty much everyone, I’m sure. Haven’t heard yours, though,” Munson says, his voice tilting up in interest. “I just figured it was because he hated you.”

Steve lets out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well, you’re not wrong. But also…” He pauses for a moment, collecting his thoughts. “There are these kids I babysit. Sort of.”

“Sort of?” Munson presses.

“Well, most of the time it feels like they’re just ordering me around like a bunch of entitled shitheads. But I make sure they get where they’re going without, like, disappearing, and that they don’t have so much unsupervised time that they manage to get themselves killed,” Steve admits.

“Uh huh,” Munson says; he sounds… a little confused, but not disbelieving. “And you ended up with this gig, how?”

“It’s Nancy’s little brother, and his little nerd friends,” Steve says (he’s allowed to call them nerds because he knows them, and it’s true. And besides, it’s affectionate).

“Aaand you’re still doing it now? Even though you and Wheeler aren’t…”

Steve shrugs. “They grew on me. But that’s– that’s not the point. One of the kids is, uh. Hargrove’s stepsister. And the night me and Hargrove got into it, I guess she wasn’t supposed to be out.”

“Ah,” Munson says.

“Yeah.” Steve sighs, giving up on the milk as a bad job; he probably should’ve run off to the gym showers instead of a shitty bathroom. He turns and leans back against the sink, crossing his arms over his chest and staring at the floor near Munson’s scuffed sneakers. “So he came looking for her.”

“So… Not that I’m advocating handing over children to pieces of shit like him, but – like, wouldn’t it have been the technically correct thing to do, to send her home with what is legally a family member?” Munson asks.

Steve passes a hand over his face. “She was terrified,” he says quietly, feeling a little like he’s betraying Max’s trust by saying it out loud, by saying it to a stranger. “She was terrified of what he would do if he found her there, where she wasn’t supposed to be. Terrified of what he would do to one of the other kids if he caught them together, since he’d specifically warned her to stay away from him.”

“What’s wrong with this other kid?” Munson asks, brows furrowed.

“Nothing,” Steve bites out. “He’s smart, and he’s brave, and he’s, like, slightly less of an asshole than some of the others, but what Hargrove cared about is that he’s black.”

“You’re fucking kidding me,” Munson snaps, and Steve’s hackles raise, ready to defend his kid all over again if he has to, but before he can get anything else out, Munson goes on. “We already knew he was a racist piece of shit, but – a fucking kid?”

Steve subsides. “Yeah. A fucking kid. So I told them all to stay inside and I went out to try to head him off. Or at least keep him out of the house. Which, obviously, I failed at.” He lets out a derisive little laugh, aimed solely at himself. “He knocked me on my ass, knocked the wind out of me, got past me– and by the time I was able to get up, he was already– he was inside, and he had that kid by the collar, up against the wall– one of my fucking kids–” Steve breaks off, the same rage and terror from that night choking up in his throat again. After the day he’s had, his emotions are all too close to the surface, too near to bubbling out, and he rubs at his nose, trying to stave off the angry, exhausted tears he can feel pricking at the corners of his eyes. “So I decked him.”

“Good!” Munson exclaims, and for a moment Steve actually manages a real smile.

“Yeah,” he says. “Then he hit me back, which, like, obviously. I was expecting him to, but– I mean, I might’ve actually won that fight if the fucker hadn’t hit me in the head with a plate.”

The expression that crosses Munson’s face is almost comically shocked. “What?”

“Yeah,” Steve says again, running a hand over his jaw, thumbing almost unconsciously at the still-fading scar where the porcelain had sliced him open. “I’m a little fuzzy on shit after that. Like, I remember being on the floor, and him kneeling over me, and hitting me, and hitting me, and then– I dunno, nothing.”

Distantly, Steve realizes that the expression on Munson’s face has turned from ‘comically shocked’ to ‘mildly horrified,’ but he’s a little too lost in the blurry memory of that night to do much about it.

“Holy shit, how are you not dead?” Munson blurts out.

He looks like he immediately regrets asking, but Steve finds he’s actually grateful for the question. He’s glad to move the conversation along.

“Max.” He smirks over at Eddie. “Hargrove’s stepsister. I guess she, uh– threatened him with a baseball bat? Saved my ass.”

That’s a deep over-simplification, but Steve can’t think of a way to explain the presence of heavy sedatives in the Byers’ house, and, anyway, she had threatened him with a baseball bat. The kids had all taken great joy in reenacting the way Max had nearly neutered Hargrove with the nailbat, actually; it’s almost like Steve had been there (and conscious).

“Holy shit,” Munson says, and whichever part he’s referring to, Steve is inclined to agree.

“Yep. So I was out fucking cold at the time, but the kids all insist that she got him to agree to leave her and her friends alone, but…” Steve shakes his head. “Hargrove is a fucking psychopath. I don’t trust him to keep that promise. So, at least if he’s focused on me, he might leave her alone. But if I hit back…”

“You think he’ll retaliate by going after one of your kids,” Munson says, only a hint of teasing in his words at the end.

“I know he will,” Steve says; Hargrove had implied as much more than once. He crosses his arms back over his chest. “And they are my kids.”

Munson throws his hands up, as if in surrender, but he’s definitely smiling now.

“I’m serious,” Steve insists, close to smiling himself. “They think I’m stuck with them, but they’re the ones stuck with me.”

“Lucky them,” Munson says, and– what?

“What?” Steve asks.

“Look, you’re either a better actor than, like, everyone in the drama club, or you at least seriously believe what you told me, which is more than I can say for Hargrove and whatever shit he came up with about the two of you getting into it over… what, his car was better than yours? He’s better at laundry ball? I don’t fucking remember, and it doesn’t really matter, because it was clearly and pathetically fabricated,” Munson says with an authoritative nod. “You, at the very least, really give a shit about those kids. So, yeah. Lucky them.”

“Well,” Steve scrambles for a moment, trying to cover the way he actually feels like he might start fucking blushing, “if I’d known all I had to do to change your mind about me was tell you about a fight I lost, I’d have done it ages ago.”

And now Munson’s back to smirking at him. “Seeking my esteem that badly, Harrington?”

“What? No. I mean – not– not specifically yours, it’s just… like, there’s not really an easy or fast way to make up for being kind of a dick for the last… while.” Steve runs his hand through his hair, stopping with a grimace when he remembers the drying milk. “You just have to keep not being a dick and hope people give you a chance. So, like, compared to that, convincing you was easy.”

“And all you had to do was get a severe concussion first,” Munson drawls.

Steve rolls his eyes. “I didn’t say it was severe.”

“You got hit with a plate,” Munson deadpans, and Steve can’t quite help the resulting flinch, at which Munson almost immediately softens. “Sorry.”

Steve shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

Mouth screwed to the side, Munson eyes Steve for a moment, glancing over his shirt and up to his face before gesturing at him. “You want some help with that?”

Steve blinks at him. “What?”

“Your whole… hair situation. You could bend ov– like, you could lean over the sink and I could, uh. Try to rinse it for you. Or whatever,” Munson offers, awkward but apparently sincere.

It sounds like a stupid as hell way to try to rinse his hair. The sinks are small, and not exactly high off the ground; Steve would have better luck just going to the locker room and showering it all out. His soap is there, too, and an extra shirt.

On the other hand, Steve really doesn’t feel like leaving the bathroom yet. He’s pretty sure lunch is going to end soon, and encountering everyone during passing period sounds like a nightmare. In here, with Munson, it’s quiet. It feels almost safe.

“Yeah, sure,” Steve finally says, and Munson looks nearly shocked that he’s accepted.

Credit to him, though: he doesn’t back out. He just slides his jacket off, tosses it up over the wall of one of the bathroom stalls, rolls up his sleeves, and gestures for Steve to lean over the sink.

“Hot or cold?” he asks, going for the taps.

“Hot,” Steve answers immediately; he doesn’t need any other cold liquid on his head today.

“Hm.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” Munson says airily, turning on the water. “You just kinda strike me as a cold shower guy. Like, up at dawn, go for a run, take a cold shower – all that weird jock shit.”

It isn’t intended to mock, Steve realizes as Munson tests the water temperature—the school pipes take forever to heat up—but to tease. It’s a joke, and Steve is invited in on it. And anyway, it’s… actually kind of close to the mark, so Steve doesn’t say anything at all for a moment as he puts his head as close to the faucet as he can get it and Munson places one cupped hand over the back of his neck and uses the other to scoop water over Steve’s hair.

“Cold water is better for your hair. Not that you’d know anything about that.” Steve finally says, hoping that his own teasing tone carries even with the way he has to raise his voice to be heard over the running water.

Luckily, Munson sounds amused when he answers. “Oh! Shots fucking fired. I see how it is!” Even as he’s pretending at being offended, his fingers stay gentle against Steve’s scalp as he tries to scrub out the dried mess, and Steve fights very, very hard not to shudder.

He can’t remember when the last time someone touched him with gentle intent was. Maybe he’d gotten a hug from Dustin last week?

Shit, that’s fucking pathetic.

He tries even harder not to lean into the touch, into the surprisingly kind hands on the back of his neck and on his scalp, tries hard not to act like some kind of touch-starved weirdo and make Munson regret offering to help.

The irony of the fact that Steve is trying not to act like a freak in front of Eddie Munson is not lost on him.

After another couple of minutes of Munson manipulating Steve’s head this way and that, doing his best to be thorough, he lets Steve go entirely and shuts the water off.

“That’s probably as good as I’m gonna be able to get it,” he says, pushing another handful of paper towels at Steve as he stands up.

“Better than I could’ve done here,” Steve says with a shrug, rubbing the paper towels over his hair and grimacing as he can feel it frizzing in about a hundred different directions.

When he finishes, he turns to look in the mirror, watching in real time as it droops over his forehead and tickles at his wet shirt collar. Munson stands next to him, watching without judgement, but with what feels like an inappropriate amount of fascination.

“Well, I’m not going to lie to you,” Munson says at last, “you look a little like a sad, wet dog.”

Steve’s eyes snap to Munson with a glare. “Gee, thanks.”

“Some people are into that!” Munson insists, holding his hands up placatingly. “That droopy aesthetic, with the big, brown puppy eyes. Someone might just wanna scoop you up and take you home to take care of you. It’s a thing.”

Do you want to? – the question comes immediately and unbidden to Steve’s head, and he quickly shakes it away. They might be on amiable terms right now, teasing each other a little, but he isn’t sure that wouldn’t be a bridge too far.

(He isn’t even sure it is teasing. For a moment, he’d had the genuine urge to ask.)

“Anyway, I think most of the mess is out of your hair, but I’m pretty sure your shirt is toast,” Munson goes on, gesturing to the brown stain around the collar, over one shoulder, and probably down the back.

If he’d been wearing a darker color today, it might’ve been alright, but of course today he’d chosen light blue. Steve sighs, plucking at the front of the shirt. If he can’t salvage it, he might as well ditch it; it’s getting uncomfortably stiff and tacky with the dried milk, and he’d honestly rather stick it out in his undershirt for as long as it takes him to get to the locker room than walk around with evidence of Hargrove’s little stunt all over him.

He untucks the shirt and yanks it over his head, no need to be careful of his hair, emerging from the depths of it to find Munson staring at him in a stunned sort of silence.

“What?” Steve asks. “If it’s wrecked, anyway, I might as well get rid of it. I’ve got a spare shirt in my gym locker I can go grab.”

Munson blinks at him, almost like he’s trying to clear his head. “Or!” he practically shouts – possibly louder than he meant to, since he continues more quietly, “Or, you could just ditch for the rest of the day. I mean, you have any particularly interesting classes after lunch you feel the need to attend?”

“Not really,” Steve admits with a huff of a laugh. “But leaving after that feels a little like– letting Hargrove win. Like I’m retreating or some shit.”

“Nah, don’t think of it like that.” Munson tosses an arm over Steve shoulders, waving his other in front of both of them, like he’s trying to show Steve a grand vision and they aren’t both just staring at the ugly tile on the bathroom wall. “Think of it as cutting class and getting free weed from Hawkins High’s most esteemed dealer.”

Steve turns to look at Munson, staring at him more closely than he’s ever had reason to, and realizing there are tiny freckles on his face. “What, seriously?”

“Sure.” Munson shrugs. “Lemme smoke you out, Harrington. Seems like a good way to let your stress go for a bit – though I am just a little biased.”

“Why?” Steve asks; he doesn’t understand the sudden turn this day has taken, the sudden and bizarre kindness offered that he doesn’t even know what he’s done to deserve.

Munson’s eyes slide away from Steve, though his arm notably stays draped over his shoulders. “Been where you are. It’s not great. And, I mean, if it had happened last year, then, admittedly, I probably wouldn’t have given as much of a shit. Jock on jock violence, whatever. But you,” he glances back at Steve, “you’re genuinely trying to be, like, a good person. And I don’t think you should be punished for that. I think, in fact, that you could probably use a friend.”

“I…” The words stick in Steve’s throat, because what the hell can he even say to that? On anyone else, Steve would have assumed an ulterior motive, but Munson had infused it with so much awkward sincerity that Steve can’t help but realize it’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s said or offered to do for him in… he’s not even sure how long.

His silence must stretch on a little too long, though, because the hopeful light in Munson’s eyes fades a bit, and he begins to slide his arm off of Steve’s shoulder. “Or, y’know, you can tell me to fuck off, because I’m, like, way overstepping some boundaries, and–”

“We should go to my place,” Steve blurts, while grabbing Munson’s wrist for some insane reason.

“What?” Munson blinks over at him, (understandably) startled.

“My place. We should go there to smoke. If you still want to.” Steve could cringe for how stilted the whole thing is coming out. “I want to be able to take a real shower.”

Munson stares at him for a moment longer before laying a hand over his heart with a gasp, suddenly leaning heavily into Steve’s side and forcing Steve to wrap an arm around his waist so they don’t both lose their balance.

“I see how it is!” Munson gasps dramatically. “My sink shower just wasn’t good enough!”

Steve holds in a laugh. “Your sink shower was… fine. But I’ve got milk dried in other uncomfortable places, so unless you want to wash my back for me, too, we should go back to mine.”

Munson’s gaze snaps back to Steve, something a little odd in it, and – oh. Oh, that hadn’t sounded quite like Steve had meant it. It had sounded a little like an offer of the kind you don’t go around making to just anybody.

Steve braces himself, waiting for the reaction (he doubts if Munson would get any kind of physical, but there will probably be an awkward pulling away and sudden remembering of something he has to do literally anywhere else that afternoon), but all Munson does is break into a sly smile and say, “I could, but I’d have to charge you extra.”

Steve can’t help it: he laughs, giving Munson a good-natured shove, who finally releases Steve but doesn’t stumble more than a couple of steps away.

“Meet you at my place?” Steve offers, balling up his shirt and dropping it on top of his notebooks as he grabs them from the shelf. “Half an hour?”

“Wouldn’t miss it.” Munson gives him a corny little salute before grabbing his jacket from over the stall wall and preceding Steve to the bathroom door.

“Munson,” Steve finds himself calling out, just as the other boy’s hand closes around the door handle; Munson glances back and Steve fights the urge to look away. “Uh. Thanks. For, like… yeah. Thanks.”

Whatever meaning Munson takes out of Steve’s absolutely eloquent verbal vomit of gratitude, it makes him smile. “No need for thanks, man,” he says. “I’m honestly a little surprised to say it, but the pleasure was definitely mine.”

And then he disappears out the door, leaving Steve in the bathroom wondering how the hell his day had taken this turn, and just what destination it’s leading him to.

And thinking that he’s honestly a little excited to find out.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things post s2 AU #stranger things #this one is a bit long just as a heads up; about 4.6k #is it good? I dunno but I had fun writing it and you guys seem interested so here we go!#eddiesteve #solar wrote

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cammys-imagines24 · 8 months

Text

°•Astarion Drinking Your Blood•°

Oh, Astarion never tires of your taste.

Whether it's his first time drinking from you or the hundredth.

You were his first human after all.

But even if he hadn't of lived centuries slaking his thirst with that of vermin...

Forcing their rotten, diseased blood down his hungry maw in sheer desperation...

The Vampire would still find your blood to be like ambrosia from the gods.

The sweetest thing to grace his tongue and warm his belly.

Sometimes it's hard to stop, if Astarion is being honest with himself.

But he loves you too, too much to put you in any mortal peril.

Though after a feeding you may feel dizzy and need to recuperate the next day.

It's just, after so long dining upon infected, squirming rats with mottled fur and yellowing buck teeth...

In the shadows of night, prowling the pests and repugnant riffraff.

He can't help himself and he's grateful you allow him to indulge a little.

But despite however ravenous he is, he's always gentle.

Pulling you close and kissing the moonlit column of your throat.

Tenderly wrapping his ivory arms around your waist, his tone sultry while whispering sweet nothings and gratitudes in your ear.

Astarion is so well versed in his ministrations that you've come to want him to feed off of you just as much as he wants, no, needs to be fed by you.

You relishing his hands leaving indents in the flesh of your hips and his breath upon your nape...

Often finding yourself tugging on strands of his curled silver locks to pull him closer.

Until no space is between you two. Until his mouth touches your neck.

And once it does, Astarion can't help but close his eyes, an involuntary shudder resounding through his whole body at the perfume of you.

Your essence a seductive potion which the Vampire would gladly, willingly lap up forever and ever.

No matter how gentle and inviting he makes the build up though, there's simply nothing to be done about the initial pain.

Astarion can't help the fact that once he bares his pearly, white fangs and sinks them into the sensitive flesh of your neck that it's unpleasant.

His fangs like two white hot pokers burrowing into your jugular vein, causing a muffled scream to leave you.

Your bottom lip plump from how hard you gnaw at it.

He does hate your scream. It revolts him that he's the cause of it.

But it is a momentary distress from you before you reassuringly comb through his hair again.

And after a few labored breaths, you ease into the pain. Getting used to it every single time.

By then he's drunk on you. Gorging himself on the nectar of your life. The crimson, pulsing river of your very being.

He's practically sent to heaven with each swallow and he never thought a spawn like him would get there.

Once you go slack in Astarion's arms he holds you tight, cradling your warm body. His fingers ghosting over your chest, hips, stomach...

And when your heartbeat begins to slow that's when he forces himself to pull away.

Licking the scarlet stream which drips down the two raw puncture wounds.

Cleaning up his mess all the way down to the start of your cleavage, exposed from your unlaced shirt.

Aftercare is incredibly important to Astarion and he is quick to sweep you up bridal style in his arms.

Tucking you safely into your shared bed and fetching you a glass of cool water.

You, weakened and tired, putting up little fuss but managing to smile at him and reach out to take his hand.

He wastes no time, falling into bed with you and pulling you close so your head is upon his chest.

He keeps you in a vice grip all night long so that any who would dare come to harm you in your diminished state would have to go through him first.

And he damn well would never let any harm come to you, save that of the wounds he assaults upon your neck.

And with you content but exhausted in Astarion's arms he licks his red stained lips and smiles in satisfaction.

He thinks you are a marvel really, to allow him to drink your blood in the first place.

To consent willingly and give him a taste of pure ecstasy.

And with his flushed cheeks and twinkling, enlivened crimson eyes, he places a kiss on your forehead.

Whispering how very much he loves you while you sleep soundly upon his chest.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 astarion #bg3 astarion x reader #astarion x reader #astarion imagine #astarion imagines #astarion headcanon #astarion headcanons #baldur's gate 3 x reader #baldur's gate 3 imagine #baldur's gate 3 headcanon #bg3 x reader #bg3 fic

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hanafubukki · 6 months

Text

Summary: In which, you blow your gasket at the Senate of Briar Valley.

“How dare you!”

Stop it.

You wanted to scream. Your words were stuck in your throat.

How dare they?

“You dare taint the Draconia bloodline!”

Enough.

Damn it. You couldn’t breathe. You were angry. The pressure in your chest increased.

“You pathetic-”

“STOP!”

You were breathing heavily as you stepped forward.

You could tell Silver, Sebek, and Grim were shocked from the corner of your eye.

Lilia looked at you in surprise. Baby Malleus tilted his head.

“How dare-”

“Shut the fuck up. What do you know?! You know nothing about Lilia and Malleus!”

You stepped towards the floating spirits.

They seemed to falter in the presence of your anger.

“How dare you talk about Lilia in such a way! You have done nothing! He did everything in his power to find a way for Malleus to hatch. You didn’t even try! You gave up!”

Your clenched hands started to bleed.

“Lilia loves that boy to pieces and you dare demean him. He has shown more love to that egg than any of you ever did! You don’t deserve either of them!”

Silence.

Except for your ragged breathing.

Then.

Laughter resounded the area.

Everyone tensed.

“Well said, Child of Man.”

Malleus had shown up.

You could hear Lilia’s confusion as Silver and Sebek stepped forward. Grim ran right in front of you.

But all you can do was stare at Malleus and your heart ached, knowing the suffering he went through.

“These fools will pay. How dare they hide the truth from me.”

Malleus turned to you. His eyes were gentle.

He raised his hand towards you, “Now, take my hand YN.”

You were startled; Grim clutched at your clothes.

“I’ll show you a happy ending. What would you like? A dream in which we are all happy? You are such a pure soul, so loving and giving.”

Malleus beckoned, “It will be alright now. I’ll take care of everything.”

You looked at Malleus’ offered hand.

Then made your decision.

Oh wow, look at that ending~

I love you ☺️💚🫶

[part 2/Lilia’s route]

#Hana queues #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #lilia vanrouge x reader #malleus draconia x reader #twst x you #twisted wonderland x you #twst lilia vanrouge x reader #twst malleus draconia x reader #lilia vanrouge x you #malleus draconia x you #honestly it could be either pairing #twst imagines #twst scenarios #x reader

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 7 months

Note

Hello, bestie, your writing is fucking amazing, i adore you so much, lovie 💕❤️😍

Could i ask a request for 141, LV and Konig, where THEY send reader a nude photo as a tease, pretty smutty too, please? 👀😍 Thank you, sweetie ❤️

141 + König Sending Reader A Nude Photo

Warnings: smut, p in v sex, afab! Reader, oral f! Receiving

Note: I’ll be doing a second version with Alejandro, Nikolai, Rodolfo and Grave☺️❤️

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simon Ghost Riley-

Simon felt ridiculous. He'd never sent a nude photo in his life, and thought the idea was frankly a bit silly. But Johnny had told him that this was something that people just “did” in relationships, especially when one of the partners was away for an extended period of time.

He closed himself in his office, locking the door behind him before sitting down in one of the chairs.

“Better be right about this, Johnny.” Simon huffed, moving to unbutton his pants. Now, Simon would be lying if the thought wasn’t intriguing, his mind filling with possibilities of just how you’d react to getting such a provocative picture of him.

He pulled his semi hard cock out, fisting it a few times before taking out his phone. If he thought the idea was ridiculous before, it was nothing compared to how he was feeling now. He struggled with getting the right angle, frankly feeling quite awkward as he snapped a photo and sent it off to you.

He debated getting back up, and going back to his bunk before his phone chimed a few minutes later. He looked down, to find a picture of you, your body donning the black lingerie set he bought you before his deployment, and your bottom lip tucked in between your teeth.

“Bloody fuckin’ hell.” Simon cursed under his breath, his cock now rock hard in his pants. He palmed at himself through his pants lazily, his eyes glued to your figure on his phone. “Gonna be the death of me.”

He quickly dialed your number, pressing his phone to his ear as his hand moved back toward his fully hard member. “Lovie- you look good in that set.”

“Thought you’d like that. That picture was quite the surprise, Si.” You gave a breathy chuckle, and Simon could’ve sworn he heard the faint buzzing of your vibrator in the background.

“You touching yourself, babe?” Simon asked, his cock twitching at the thought. “You touching yourself to the picture of my cock?”

You gave a breathy moan in reply, causing Simon’s eyes to squeeze shut as he pulled himself back out, and began to pump himself at a steady pace.

“Let me see, kitten.” He ordered, and who were you to deny his request?

Your picture came a moment later, your favorite vibrator shoved firmly inside of you, and Simon could clearly tell from the picture that you were soaked.

“Good fucking girl. That’s my girl. Go on and make yourself cum on the phone with me, I want to hear it.”

Your moans filled his ears, as Simon struggled to keep the phone steady in his hands, his eyes glued to your recent picture. His right hand was pumping at his cock furiously, your soft mewls driving him closer to the edge.

“Just you wait, princess. When I get home I’m gonna make you cum in every room of that fuckin’ house.” Simon groaned, his orgasm nearing quickly. “Can’t wait to feel that pretty little pussy cum all around my cock.

His vulgar words drove you to your edge, a loud squeak emitting from your lips as your release racked your body- causing you to scream out your lovers name.

Simon fell over the edge, his cock pulsing as thick ropes of cum flew onto his abdomen. “Fuck. My name sounds so good like that. Such a good girl for me.”

“You better have meant what you said Simon.” You teased, your voice breathless as you regained your composure. “As much as I loved the picture, nothing compares to the real thing.”

Simon cleared his through, a dark chuckle resounding from his chest. Of course he fucking meant it- after all, Simon’s a man of his word.

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

Johnny was dying. He'd been without sex for months, and he was dying for any sort of release. He wouldn’t be home to you, his pretty little pet in at least another few weeks, and he was nearly about to burst from the pent up sexual frustration.

The saved pictures of you in his phone had done little to satiate his needs, and he decided to take a different approach this time.

He closed himself in one of the private bathrooms on base, and wasted no time in yanking off his pants. His cock was already semi hard, as crude thoughts of you had been swirling in his mind all day.

He gave his member a few pumps, before snapping a picture of himself in the full sized mirror in front of him, and sending it to you without any accompanying message. Now all he had to do was wait for your reply.

He smiled as not more than a minute after he sent the photo, he got a notification on his phone that you were face timing him.

“Bonnie.” He answered, making sure only his face was visible when he answered the video call. “Is everything alright?”

“You’re a fucking tease, you know that right?” You groaned, settling yourself on yours and Johnnys shared bed. “An absolute tease.”

“It’s only fair lass. How many times have you sent me pictures of yourself, knowing damn well I couldn’t do anything about it.” Johnny argued, getting himself more comfortable on the lid of the toilet. “Go on, show me what that picture did to you.”

He watched intently as you held your phones camera away from you, and began to slowly strip away at your clothes. Johnny licked his lips eagerly as you removed your panties, leaving yourself completely bare to his awaiting eyes.

He turned his camera to face his fully hard cock, and began to pump himself, his eyes never leaving the phone in his other hand.

“Let me see how wet you are, baby.” Johnny cooed, his eyes glued to the screen as you brought your phone closer to your pussy. He nearly came right there as he watched you drag a finger up your soaked cunt, the wet noises clearly audible through the phone. “Oh fuck me.”

You gave a delectable whimper, causing Johnny to fist at his cock faster than before. “Miss you Johnny.”

“I know, lass. Be a good girl for me and show me just how much that pussy misses me. I want to watch you come undone with your fingers.”

You spread your legs further for him, giving him the perfect view of your glistening cunt, and began to play with yourself, as soft moans began to emit from your lips.

“That’s it, keep going. I want to see everything.”

John Price-

John was simply too old for this. He’d heard the men on base talking about sending nudes to their significant others, as a way to keep their sex lives spiced up away from home- but John never once had partaken in such a thing before. Would you even like it?

The alcohol swirling in his system told him that you would, and before he could second guess his decision, he made his way to his office, making sure to lock the door behind him.

He sat himself comfortably in his chair, before pulling his length out of his pants, stroking it lazily as he pulled up his messages with you.

He knew you’d be home, probably in bed right now- otherwise he’d never have entertained the thought of doing this. He could very well just go home, but he knew if he did the stack of paperwork would never get done, but gods could he use the distraction.

He held his cock firmly in his hand, feeling a bit silly as he snapped a picture, and sent it over to you without second thought.

To say you were surprised to see the picture that popped up on your phone would be an understatement. You loved John dearly, but never would you have thought he’d send you a picture like this. Not that you were complaining.

Biting your lip, you snapped a picture of yourself- Your cleavage pouring out from the top of one of John’s white dress shirts.

John felt his cock twitch in his palm as he opened up the photo message, and instantly typed out a reply.

Get in your car, and drive over to my office, NOW.

~~~~~

You barely made it through the door of his office before he had you bent over his desk, your leggings ripped down exposing your bare bottom half to him.

“Gods I am a lucky fucking man.” John groaned, his fingers immediately going to toy with your already soaked folds. “Does my sending you pictures of my cock make you this wet?”

All you could do was moan in reply, as his thick fingers plunged inside of you, pumping in and out of you at a vigorous pace. He paused his movements, clearly unsatisfied by your lack of verbal reply.

A harsh slap came down on your ass, causing you to cry out. John only chuckled at your mewls. “I asked you a question, I expect an answer.”

“Yes. Fuck yes John.” You cried out. Seemingly satisfied by your answer, John pulled his fingers out of your core, before landing a playful slap to your cunt.

“Then he daddy’s good girl and cum around his cock, yeah? Show me just how much you enjoyed it.” He cooed in your ear, before plunging his length inside you without warning.

Needless to say, this won’t be the last time you receive a photo from John.

König-

Sorry, you wanted him to what? Surely he didn’t read your message correctly. König looked back down at his phone, his eyes scanning over your most recent message about a half dozen times. You wanted… a picture of his cock?

König looked around the room shyly, somehow thinking the men 10 feet across from him knew what was being asked of him.

He gulped audibly as you sent through another text, this time a picture of you, in one of your more revealing sets of pajamas. König could feel himself grow hard and his pants, and practically sprinted to one of the private bathrooms on base.

Once locked inside, he wasted no time in ripping down his pants, breathing a sigh of relief as his painfully hard cock sprung free from its confinements.

Though he knew he was alone, König couldn’t help but look around the small bathroom, his cheeks burning crimson red as he snapped a picture of himself, before sending it off to you.

He honestly planned on getting up and walking out of the bathroom, never to think of this moment again, before his phone went off again.

A video came through, causing König’s brain to malfunction completley. You were playing with yourself, as soft moans of König’s name left your lips.

Königs legs acted on their own, prompting him to walk back over to the toilet and sit down on it, his cock making its way to his hand once more as he began to stroke it.

He had to bite his lip, hard enough to draw blood to prevent his cries of pleasure from escaping his lips. He felt so dirty. He knew men were right outside the bathroom, but in that moment all he could focus on was how good your pussy looked in that video- and how much he wanted it to be his fingers playing with it instead of yours.

Another ping of his phone came- another video from you. König eagerly watched as you came undone, cumming around your fingers as his name continued to spill from your lips.

Königs other hand was shaking, his orgasm rapidly approaching as his eyes remained glued to the video stuck in a loop on his phone. He held the phone, camera facing his cock as he pressed the record button. If you were going to treat him with videos, the least he could do we repay the favor.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

You were a tease, through and through. It was one of the many things Kyle loved about you. But you’d been a devious little brat lately. You’d developed this habit this week, of sending him scandalous pictures of yourself, at various points of the day.

It was sending Kyle to a frenzy. Anytime he received the pictures it took everything in him not to run to the bathroom to bust a nut- but the timing was never convenient.

Now, now it was his turn to return the favor. Knowing he was being put on leave earlier than usual (unbeknownst to you) he decided to have a little fun of his own.

Before leaving the base, he stopped in one of the bathrooms, taking a quick picture of his semi hard cock, before tucking it back in his pants with a smile. Without second thought he hit the send button, before hopping in his car for the two hour drive home.

~~~~

You blew up his phone at least a dozen times on his drive. Kyle was never one to spontaneously send pictures like that, and it had a heat pooling between your legs.

The worst part was, he was blatantly ignoring your texts. He knew damn well what he was doing. Frustrated beyond belief, you took matters into your own hands.

Kyle arrived home later that afternoon, the shit eating smirk from earlier never once leaving his lips.

He raced up the stairs, being as quiet as he could, and carefully opened the door to your shared bedroom. The sight he was met with had Kyle nearly creaming his pants right there.

You were splayed out on the bed, fully naked, your freshly painted nails stuffed firmly inside your core, desperately trying to find your release.

“Need some help?” Kyle called, a dark chuckle escaping his lips as he leaned against the door frame.

You jolted up, your eyes as wide as saucers as you pulled your fingers from your pussy. “Kyle!”

“Oh do continue, I’m quite enjoying the show.” He replied, licking his lips as his eyes remained glued to your sopping core.

“You’re a tease. I didn’t know you were coming home.” You huffed in frustration, your momentum from earlier long gone.

He grabbed your legs, firmly pulling you to the edge of the bed, and chuckled at the squeal that escaped your lips. “How’s it feel to be on the receiving end?”

Before you could reply, Kyle’s tongue found its way to your soaked folds, swirling and flicking rapidly at your sensitive bud.

“Now be a good girl and take exactly what I’m willing to give you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: ahhhh sorry this didn’t come together as well as I’d liked!

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kisakis-boyfriend · 1 month

Note

I genuinely cannot tell if you’re requests are open or not but if they aren’t jus reply saying they aren’t or leave this silly piece letting until they are. I want to see freminet BRED. That man deserves to be inflated and begging for more (if you could be so kind as to do this with lyney as well but I’m more then happy with just Freminet) thank you

Pairings: Freminet x reader, Lyney x reader (separately)

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, adult characters, sub/bottom!Freminet, sub/bottom!Lyney, rough sex, breeding kink, creampies, loving degradation

Genre/Format: Smut; Scenarios

Author's Note: I'm combining these two requests, I hope that's alright! — I agree, Freminet deserves to be bred and fucked like the world is ending tomorrow 💙

Please check my blog title to verify whether requests are closed or not! Thank you!

“Isn't this what you wanted? You said 'break me, daddy! Break me like the cheap whore I am!' right?”

“I-I did n-o-o-o-t!!” He stuttered. Sharp thrusts cause his words to hiccup as you pound him into the mattress so hard that the poor thing can't even talk!

You smirk, “Ok maybe you didn't say that exactly, but you did ask me to break you, right?”

He began to protest, though he knew he didn't have a leg to stand on. “W-weeelll...”

The backs of Freminet's thighs were bright red — and you were nowhere near finished with him yet. His nails dug into the sheets, and the sound of skin hitting skin resounded heavily throughout your bedroom.

“Mm baby, you know I'll give you whatever you want–” You drawl, completely high off of pleasure as Freminet's hole squeezes around your cock, which feels fucking heavenly. “all you have to do is ask and you know- fffuuck! You know I'll give in eventually. Hah...”

Amidst the rough slapping sounds and labored grunting, you pick up on something else: “-der”

“Mm? What's that, babe?” You ask, tenderly brushing the hair out of his face.

Freminet turned his head slightly, meeting your eyes with a look that you don't get to see too often — “Harder!” He orders. And you smile wide in return.

“Yes, sir, anything you want.” After a quick kiss to Freminet's temple, you pull your hips back — nearly pulling out all the way — and slam back into him with a bruising force. Then you repeat the motion. And again. And again, and again, and again–

Picking up the pace and still keeping that full force, you fucked your boyfriend exactly how he wanted you to. Freminet's groans and screams filled the room, accompanied by increasingly wet noises when you fucked him through multiple orgasms (yours and his). Filling his little hole so much that your cum began to leak out and slide down his legs, and creating a slight bulge in his stomach. They say you can't impregnate a man, but if sheer force of will was enough, Freminet would be pumped full of your kids by now.

Rarely did you slow down, wanting Freminet to get the pounding that he desired. Even with a mess of cum dripping onto the floor, and a puddle forming under his hips, you kept up the pace. With a firm grip on his hips, you slammed into him harder and harder. Aftercare will be extra fluffy today, but until then, your partner isn't done whimpering for you to 'please keep going' yet.

“A-ah! O-ok, I do want you to break me! Happy n-now?” Lyney stammered, blushing furiously at the position you currently have him in.

His chest pressed into the mattress with his hands pinned behind his back, and his ass flush with your hips. It was too obvious how much that simple request had turned you on already; the not-so-subtle hard-on poking Lyney's thigh gave away your feelings.

“Well?” Your partner questioned, almost impatiently.

“Well what?”

Lyney rolled his eyes. “Weeell, are you going to break me or not?” OH- Duh.

No person has ever removed clothing faster in their life; you couldn't get either of you undressed soon enough. Your boyfriend's lovely moans were all the motivation you needed to spread his cheeks, line yourself up, and push in nice 'n deep.

It really didn't take long for a brutal pace to be set. Lyney adjusted quickly and practically begged for you to rail him until his legs stopped working.

Using his arms as leverage, you grip them tightly and slam inside of Lyney's ass repeatedly. The skin of his thighs ripples with every thrust, and he moans into the sheets as they become wet between his teeth.

You pull him up by his hair next, bringing him flush against your chest as you whisper into his ear, “Such a pretty whore for me, babe. I think you deserve to be filled up, don't you?”

Lyney nods in agreement, panting, “Yes, gods please–! Br-breed me!” And per his request, you speed up again — Lyney's clenching down on your dick draws a huge load of cum that floods his insides, giving him exactly what he desires.

Leaving a trail of kisses down his neck, you mouth all manner of compliments and adoration against your lover's skin–

“Fuck, I love you so much” as your cum drips from his hole

“So damn beautiful” as your tongue slides into his mouth

“You were made to be bred” as your hand is still tightly balled in his blond locks

“Good boy” as you start moving again, working your cum deeper inside so that you can pump another load into your precious twink of a boyfriend.

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dark-moonlust · 7 days

Text

Tentacle Trouble PART 1

Pairing: Tentacle monster x human reader

Summary: you decide to explore a cave that is surrounded by stories of a tentacle beast. You find exactly that, get pounded in all holes and bred.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, dub con, dark monster smut, explicit tentacle smut, p in three holes, HEA. Don’t like, don’t read please.

The dimly lit cave echoed with the roar of the ocean.

You ventured deeper, drawn by the stories of the creature that dwelled within its depths.

You were determined to uncover the truth.

You didn’t expect to find a monster. These were baby tales.

But your were wrong. So very wrong.

The presence lurked and watched you and before you could escape, thick, slick tentacles trapped you. Your clothes were ripped and tossed away, slimy tentacles roaming your body, their weight keeping you a captive. You found yourself being lifted, suspended in the air while wriggling appendages wrapped around your wrists and ankles, keeping your limbs wide apart.

The creature emerged from the shadows, its body a huge round mass of tentacles, each one glistening with a strange slickness. A huge head, and at its core were three glowing eyes, deep blue, like the ocean sea. They seemed to reach into your soul.

“Holy shit!” You gasped, unable to believe your eyes. “I’m so fucking dead.”

A husky voice filled your mind, you realized it came from the monster. “No one shall hurt you, little human. You are here now, your life is mine, your little holes are mine,” it drawled. “I will mate and love you endlessly.”

“Fuck you, you perverted—”

“What a filthy mouth.” A sharp slap against your ass made you gasp in surprise. “Quiet, noisy human.”

You shrieked and moaned as he repeatedly slapped your ass, pausing a little to caress your sore bum before delivering more smacks. No matter how much you wiggled and screamed, you couldn’t be set free. The slimes moved on to slap you pussy, finding it delightfully slick and plump.

You thrashed at each blow, the slaps were light but awakened a strange pleasure inside you.

You hated your treacherous body.

The monster didn’t seem pleased with your thrashing so he pushed one thick tentacle into your parted mouth. It plunged down your throat, stretching your lips and causing you to gag. Moist suckling noises resounded as it fucked your throat, thrusting back and forth until you no longer fought the creature back.

Gluck… gluck… gluck… gluck.

The cave echoed with your lewd slurping sounds as you were forced to swallow the sweet nectarine liquid dripping from his tentacle. Each drop aroused you, invading your system and intoxicating it with desire. In seconds, you were soft and pliant, more than eager to let him have his way with you.

“That’s more like it,” you heard his voice in your mind. “Beautiful human. My little mate.”

“What—hmm,” you gulped down more liquid, “is it?”

The monster’s voice rumbled through you. “That, my little one, is my elixir. It shall make you immortal and prepare your body for me. It is an elixir that only I, the master of these depths, can produce.”

You struggled to speak, a shiver running down your spine. Immortal elixir? It terrified and intrigued you. You looked into the creature’s eyes, asking for answers.

“Only my mate is deserving of my elixir. Now hush, do not fear.”

More tentacles came out of his body, of various shapes and lengths. They travelled over your flesh, leaving trails of slickness wherever they touched. It made your shiver. One tentacle slithered up your inner thigh, brushing around your pussy before slipping inside your depths. Shivers of pleasure ran through you as it fucked you while another slithery appendage rubbed your clit round and round.

Two more tentacles snaked over your ass, pulling your cheeks apart to expose your pouting rosebud. You squirmed and cried out around the tentacle fucking your mouth when the pulsating appendages slipped past the tight entrance of your asshole. The fit was tight but the tentacles were incredibly slick. Slowly, oh so slowly, they filled you up, inch by inch, until they were buried deep in your guts.

“Mnn…mnhaa!" You breathed through your nose at the way you felt, all holes filled.

When the tentacles started to thrust, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The tentacles were all over and yet, you felt no pain, just blinding pleasure. You willingly surrendered to the feral ravishmest. The cave filled with the symphony of your high-pitched cries and the furious plap-plap of tentacles filling your body.

The creature’s rhythm grew faster, the tentacles working in perfect harmony.

By now, you had two tentacles buried in your cunt and three more crawling up your ass. The one fucking your throat hadn’t receded and kept feeding you its delectable elixir.

The insistent fucking brought you to a shattering climax. Your body tensed and you cried out around the thrusting appendage in your lips as waves and waves of pleasure crashed over you.

The creature didn’t stop its pounding.

Your voice continued to echo through the cavern. The slimes in your ass pistoned fast and hard but the ones in your pussy stopped and pressed against the entrance to your womb. You tensed, the pressure causing you to wince. You felt a soft pop, followed by the heavy weight of eggs. One by one you felt them as they were deposited deep inside you.

“Ugh .. ungh—" you whimpered and came hard, the walls of your cunt contracting around the ovipositor. Your whole body spasmed as the creature bred you and made you its mate.

It felt like hours later when the slimes exited your holes. The intensity subsided, but your belly was bulging with his brood. The creature gently lowered you to the ground, its tentacles wrapping protectively around you. You lay there, spent and satisfied, your mind reeling from the unbelievable experience.

The creature’s glowing eyes regarded you with a strange, almost tender curiosity. “You did well, my mate. Took six of my eggs on the first try. I am proud of you. Sleep now, little one. I will take care of you. Forever.”

And you did, your eyes shutting as you let go in his embrace. You had found what you needed, a new world of pleasure and otherworldly love.

#tentacles x you #tentacles x female reader #tentacles x human #tentacles x reader #tentacles smut #monster fucker #monster lover #monster x female #monster x reader #monster x you #monster x human #monster smut #monster x female reader #monster boyfriend #monster romance #monster fuqqer #monster fudger

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amourane · 20 days

Note

THE WAY YOU WRITE IS JUST *CHEF’S KISS*

You deserve all the notes ⭐️ would it be ok to request a post hogwarts with theo? Angst to fluff if that’s alright?

TIA if you decide to do it!!

—🍄

calm after the storm

pairing: theodore nott x gn!reader

genre: angst to fluff, post hogwarts au

w/c: 1.2k

summary: theo has a hard time dealing with his emotions and you were always there for him but what if one day it becomes all too much.

warnings: it's going to hurt <3

a/n: 🍄 thank you so so much for this request because i read it when u sent it and i remembered it in my exam and i managed to write this banger (i dont know if its word for word but i tried to write as much as i could remember) i just added the fluff at the end. BUT THIS IS FOR YOU <33333

Rain.

It was the first thing that hit Theo’s face when he stormed out of the door. Thick and heavy droplets that fell from the sky, marking his perfect face. They streaked down his cheeks parting into different directions like rivers. The cold sensation enveloped him as he listened to the pitter patter that flooded his ears.

He was angry. He was frustrated. He was livid. The ugly emotion bubbled within him, threatening to burst. It twisted and toiled, shrieked and screamed. It was like a monster, feeding on his anger, waiting to pounce at any second.

The fight wasn’t meant to escalate this badly. Insults were thrown and meaningless threats were made as the both of you shouted at each other.

The argument could have been solved. The solution simply lay right in front of Theo but he had refused to see it. He had refused to accept he was wrong. You hadn’t asked for much, hadn’t asked anything unreasonable yet he had lashed out. He chose to ignore what lay in front of him and blame you instead.

“I should have never accepted your pathetic excuse for a confession.”

The words had tumbled out of his mouth before he could’ve stopped them. Harsh cutting words that dug into you and twisted with malice. He saw the way his words clawed at the seams of your heart, ripping it to shreds. He watched as your face fell and broke. The once bright smile he always saw was replaced with a heart wrenching stare.

It was all too much. So he ran.

Bitterness swallowed him whole as he thought back to the moment. Festering anger turned into anguish. You had always been so full of joy. Ever since he had met you all those years ago when he watched as you got sorted and skipped to your table with glee. You were so beautiful, so kind, so pure. Your eyes would always look at him with so much adoration and love. Theo loved you more than he could imagine.

Then the fight would resurface. It overtook his honeyed memories of you like an infectious plague, tainting the sweet thoughts. They replaced your beautiful smile with a heartbroken expression. Your eyes, that he was so used to seeing filled with love, looked at him with incredulous horror. The sight haunted him.

Rain brought Theo back to the present. The thunderous clap resounded through his ears. At first, he had wanted to run far away but he only found himself able to walk so far before his feet refused to move. He stayed stuck to the ground as he felt the rain wash over him. Theo didn’t care what others thought, didn’t care if the passersby looked at him oddly.

All he cared about was you.

Theo didn’t know how long he stayed outside letting the water rush over his body. He simply stood. Time seemed to pass slowly as he tried to remind himself of your laughter and smiles. He forced himself to forget about what had happened but he couldn’t. The memories were constant, a never ending cycle that would taunt him.

The rain slowed and eventually stopped. The dull grey clouds cleared to reveal the peaceful sky as if nothing had happened.

Even though the sun beamed down on Theo he still felt the endless rivers that ran down his cheeks. He still felt the streaks of water as they rolled down his face. The tears didn’t stop as he stood there.

The streets were still damp, the scent of rain hanging in the air. Theo felt a gentle touch on his arm and he flinched, spinning around to meet your worried gaze. Your voice, soft and full of concern, broke through the haze.

“Theo, you’re soaked. You’ll catch a cold out here.”

He turned to face you, his eyes red and puffy from crying. The moment his gaze met yours, the dam broke. Sobs racked his body, and he fell into your arms, clutching you as if you were his lifeline.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out between sobs. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. I was just so angry, and I took it out on you. I was wrong, and I’m so sorry.”

You held him tighter, your touch soothing him. He continued to cry, unable to stop the tears as they continued to fall. The guilt ate him up inside, gnawed at his conscience, continuously banging on the iron bars that he kept his heart behind.

“Shh, it’s okay.” You whispered, stroking his wet hair. “It’s okay, Theo. We’ll get through this.”

Your words broke him even more. You were so kind. He didn’t deserve you. He didn’t deserve your kindness. You had always been the understanding one, the one to resolve fights, the one who would reach out and tell him it’ll be okay. Theo knew he had a problem with his emotions, he knew that he had a hard time expressing how he felt. You knew it too. He would always be grateful for the way that you still stuck by him despite everything.

“I hurt you. I said such horrible things. How can you even look at me?” He whispered against you, his voice cracking. His throat was dry and hoarse from the crying and he pulled away to look at you. His vision was blurry but he could still make out your beautiful features.

You cupped his face in your hands, wiping away the tears with your thumbs. “Because I love you, Theo. We’ve had our fights, but this…this is something we can fix. We just need to talk and understand each other.”

Theo could only watch as you smiled despite the fact tears were spilling from your eyes too. He felt the emotions whirl in his mind.

“I love you so much Y/n. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry Y/n. I’m such a bad boyfriend. I’m so sorry. I never meant any of it. I love you so much, so so much.” He hugged your body tight, trying to grasp onto the warmth you always provided him with. “Can we - can we start over?”

You nodded, a soft smile spreading across your face. “Yes, Theo. We can start over. But first, let’s get you out of these wet clothes and somewhere warm.”

The two of you walked back to your apartment, your hand holding his as you led him inside. No words were said as you helped him dry off, grabbing new clothes so he didn’t fall sick from the rain. Each touch that you left filled his cold body with warmth. He pulled you towards him, embracing you tightly.

“Thank you.” He whispered against your hair. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”

You held him tighter, making sure that he knew that you would always be there for him, making sure that he felt all of your love and comfort.

“I would never give up on you.” You breathed out a sigh as your hands massaged his back. “We’ll get through this, just like how we got through everything else.”

The two of you stayed in silence, letting the day pass by. No words needed to be exchanged as the both of you enjoyed the comfort of each other's love. Theo knew he had issues. He knew he had problems. Yet as long as you stayed by him he knew that life wouldn’t be so bad.

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theodore nott imagines #theo nott imagine #theo nott x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott angst #theodore x reader #theodore nott fluff #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #theo nott x y/n #fluff #angst #theodore nott x you #theodore nott smut #theo nott smut #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott

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suiana · 16 days

Text

(yandere! alien x gn! reader)

the human spirit is indomitable. that much was obvious, especially with how you were still fighting against him even though there was clearly no escape. or at least that's what he thought.

"why do you still fight against me..."

the alien mumbles, voice cracking as he tries to move under the rubble you trapped him under. shit, this was not ideal at all. he can't believe you actually manage to drug him and then trapped him under the broken ceiling you shattered when he was chasing after you.

he still didn't know how you did it. he was faster, stronger, smarter... you shouldn't have been able to trick him like this. yet, his overconfidence might've been a reason as to why you got a one-up over him.

"you know there's no escape right? my spaceship has yet to dock at a port and we are light years away from earth."

the otherworldly creature tries reasoning with you, staring at your shaking figure as you tug at the collar he made you wear. it was a pretty thing, made of the finest jewels he got from another planet he visited a few years back.

he thought it would look good on you, and it did. so his heart aches when you destroyed it, allowing the jewels to scatter all over his once pristine floors.

no matter, he can just fix it again.

"darling, you should stop resisting. you will just tire yourself out."

the alien sighs, not finding your actions amusing as he shakes his head.

he doesn't get humans at all. why do you try so hard even when there's clearly no intelligent way to win this? perhaps that's why your civilization is still heaps below others, like his.

that was, until, he saw you dig out the microchip tracker he implanted into your neck with your bare hands.

his eyes widen in horror, jaw going slack as he screams, body shaking as he desperately tries moving under the rubble only for you to step on his face and throw the chip at him.

"fucking alien... don't you know? adrenaline is one hell of a drug."

he hears your laughter resounding through the hallways, your footsteps growing softer and softer as he tries to recover from your painful stomp.

his eyes shake, his features in undeniable pain as he feels his body giving up on him.

no, no, no!

he tries wiggling more, but unfortunately, his species had not adapted to recover from situations like this. so all he could do as he laid in pain under the rubble was to shout at you, desperation in his tone as he sees you touching and entering something into the emergency escape pod he had on his spaceship.

"darling don't you dare leave!"

he screams, looking absolutely pathetic as his eyes widen in both fear and anger. no! you weren't supposed to leave! you were supposed to be just some human who would give up escape and love him! you were supposed to accept him as your mate the second he kidnapped you because of how obsessed he had become after observing you for weeks in his spaceship!

you weren't supposed to leave him under the rubble like this!

you're clearly weaker, more stupid... and definitely an inferior species! why couldn't you just love him?! why couldn't you just give up and accept his affections?!

"darling! i'm warning you! if you leave i will find you and i will be very angry!"

the alien tries threatening, wincing in pain as the effects of your face stomping still lingered. but of course, he knew you wouldn't listen to him. not when you so eagerly pointed your middle finger at him (a sign he came to see as disrespect in human customs) before leaving in the space shuttle.

he lets out a strangled scream, completely still under the rubble as his frustration and anger reaches it's peak. god damn it! now he has to wait for god knows how long until the drug wears off to finally be able to move and try to find you!

maybe he shouldn't have doubted humans so much. perhaps the rumors about the human spirit being indomitable were right. maybe the humans really were meant to conquer the stars.

#yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #yandere concept #yandere alien #yandere alien x reader #gn reader #suiana rambling #suiana brainrotting

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ashessonfire · 1 year

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Hello, i have a potential kaz x reader request for you!! I, for some reason, love the idea of a very soft/domestic kaz moment with reader who isn’t involved in the crime life. So what about y/n being married to kaz and for some reason she makes her way down to the crow club (maybe someone broke into the house or something) and kaz is extreamly confused and concerned and the rest if the crows are like "andddd who are you?"

if you don't feel it, feel free to ignore!

'Intruder' - Kaz Brekker x reader

Prompt - Kaz is a highly secretive man, even to his closest friends, but what happens when a panicked citizen rushes into the Crow Club demanding his presence? It could even suggest that he had the ability to love. - Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Civilian!Reader (Gender neautral)(married for at least a few years but not specified) - Warnings: Thief enters readers house, brief mention of fighting and injury, a knife?? Kaz just being super soft for you! <333 PART TWO NOW POSTED! (click here) - A/N: Thank you for ALL the love on the last post, and my first fic ever! I hope this does just as well and its enjoyed too. I know its not as fluffy as maybe expected but i really like how it turned out. PLEASE KEEP REQUESTING!!(some moonknight coming soon) <3333

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The chilling wind of Ketterdam rushed past your face, adding to your already watering eyes that couldn’t stop frantically searching around for further threats.

You had been enjoying a quiet morning, browsing the market, drinking tea with friends, and even finding a new hat for Kaz. All was serene, until you turned the lock in the front door, only to be confronted by a menacing figure, knife gripped in one hand, Kaz’s favourite (and most expensive) tea set in the other.

A small gasp escaped you, before your mind took control, rushing forward to land a harsh blow directly on the figure’s nose, just at the right angle like Kaz had demonstrated.

He let out a murderous scream whilst dropping the tea set onto the ground, the shattering of the pieces echoing in your heart and mind. However, this granted you enough time to grab the edge of his jacket and pull him through the doorframe, using every ounce of your strength.

He stumbled down the steps of the small apartment, loosing his footing and falling rapidly, landing brutally on the cobblestone street below and roaring in pain as a jolting crack resounded from where he landed.

Without thinking, you scrambled inside, bolted the door, and ran as fast as you possibly could out of the side entrance, internally crying as your boots struggled through the remains of your husband's most beloved item.

As you struggled through the tight alleyway, you prayed that the Stadwatch had noticed the commotion and apprehended the man. As you bolted down the poorly lit streets of the barrel, thoughts of terror began plaguing your mind.

What if Kaz hadn’t taught you to defend yourself? What if you had reacted too slowly? Would Kaz be angry with you for not finishing the job? How would ‘Dirtyhands’ react to your utter horror at one intruder?

You were abruptly ripped from your thoughts by the unmistakable image of a crow, hanging magnificently above the crowded street. Pushing your way through the crowd, you suppressed the nerves rising in your chest, threatening to choke you, as you entered the crow club for the first time.

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The unmistakable smell of alcohol and smoke clouded your senses immediately, as crowds of ‘pigeons,’ as Kaz may call them, wandered around the floor without a care for others around them.

As frightening as the previous events had been, you didn’t allow yourself to be overwhelmed by this too, shoving your violently shaking hands into your pockets to stop the visible nerves from showing.

Jesper and Wylan sat in close proximity at the bar edge, as far from the yelling and cheering of the customers as they possibly could. Your gazed locked onto the face of the tall Zemeni man, thinking back to the hundreds of times Kaz’s mask had slipped, and he had spoken fondly of his best friend.

Despite Kaz’s firm objection to verbal communication, he often fell victim to your warmth and comfort, his affections for his crew spilling into casual conversation, almost subconsciously. Of course, the Bastard of the Barrel couldn’t hold onto something as weak as friendship. However, this meant that you were very familiar with each of his ‘crows,’ despite never officially meeting any of them.

Mustering all the courage you could, you sucked in a sharp breath, preparing yourself for the challenging journey to your last hope at finding him.

You weaved your way cautiously between the rowdy groups, dodging drunken gestures and swinging arms, until you reached the pair sat at the bar, panic spreading through your body like wildfire. You made note to keep your hands firmly tucked within the safety of your jacket, in a feeble attempt to keep up a façade of confidence.

As their gazes turned towards you, you gently cleared your throat in the hopes of removing any indication of fright, and in turn, weakness from your voice.

“I’m looking for Kaz? Kaz Brekker?” you stuttered out, eyes darting around to avoid the quizzical gazes of the two men in front of you. Under different circumstances you wished to have met them when your usual air of joy blanketed not only you, but all of those who encountered you too. Yet it seemed like the Saints weren't on your side for that wish today.

You were snapped back from your thoughts, as they glanced at each other, sharing an unspoken but clear sense of bewilderment between them at your odd request. Often drunken pigeons, or rough street urchins would request to see the boss, but it wasn’t a common sight to see a regularly dressed citizen in such a state demanding an audience with Mr Brekker himself.

“I’m afraid it’s pretty difficult to get a meeting with the boss, always busy you know?” spoke the man you assumed to be Jesper, in a kind but skeptical tone, swirling the drink in his hand as he failed to decipher the reason for your visit.

Panic began to claw its way deeper into your chest, as you quickly blurted out “Please, its important, I need to see Kaz. Please bring me to see him.” The sudden outburst once again surprised the men, however Wylan’s gaze softened at the clear desperation on your features, and Jesper’s confusion morphed into something that resembled pity.

Wylan subtly leaned into Jesper, whispering “I think you should take her, she seems pretty desperate?” causing Jesper to let out a sigh before meeting your gaze yet again.

Reluctantly, Jesper stood up, stretching his limbs well, before letting out a dramatic sigh, followed by a feigned annoyance at the request, analyzing you for a moment before stating, “Let’s go see the boss then.”

He quickly turned back to you, flashing a lopsided, yet winning grin, which put to rest some of the bubbling anxiety that was becoming inescapable. As you ascended the stairs to his office, a skeptical looking woman glanced curiously up at the three of you, hopping out of her chair to trail behind you, whilst stuffing the remains of what looked like a waffle into her mouth.

Before you could inquire about the third individual following your small group, you were suddenly met with the dark oak door of Kaz Brekker’s office. Jesper shot another reassuring grin back at you, as he rapidly knocked on the office door and let himself in before an answer called out.

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The instant you saw your husband, the tears glossed over your eyes, shining with a dangerous threat of escaping. However, to your surprise, you were able to win the valiant battle for a little longer.

You knew how vital it was for your husband to keep his personal life separated from his work life; one wrong move, and you could end up in the hands of another gang, tortured in exchange for information on the Dregs. This knowledge was what kept you from barreling towards his desk without a second thought, with even the smallest slip from Jesper potentially ruining every bit of yours and Kaz’s struggle to break down his walls.

Kaz sat at his desk at the centre of the bleak room, a faint patch of light hitting his face from a glowing street lantern, casting deep shadows across his sharp features. His shoulders tensed as he remained solely focused on the blueprint in front of him, his harsh glare at the sheet almost seemed as if he was planning to murder it. Perhaps if you weren’t so shaken you may have let out a soft laugh at his pure concentration.

“What is it? I have no time for irrelevant interruption, this marksheet needs to be completed before twelve bells tonight,” A sharp voice suddenly cut through the thick silence. Jesper cleared his throat before confronting his boss, shifting his weight between each foot at the temper that Kaz was evidently displaying.

“Well, you see, I was sitting downstairs with Wylan at the bar, when all of a sudden…” Jesper started, but was cut off by a deadly look from Kaz to get to the point. As his gaze shot upwards towards the sharpshooter, he finally noticed the second figure in the room and his heart plummeted.

Why were you here?

Kaz’s mind began spinning, grasping for any logical reason as to why you were in the one of the most dangerous staves of the Barrel, requiring his assistance.

An identical panic to yours seized his chest as he inspected your state, your hair was windswept, eyes glossed over and glinting with a touch of fear, a visible shake to your arms and legs, which he had been fortunate enough to never experience until now.

You looked utterly terrified.

A single murderous look was enough for Jesper to throw his hands up in defense, and saunter quietly out of the room, glancing curiously back at the two of you as he shut the door. Jesper thought to himself that his life in the long run would be far more valuable than the price of his curiosity now.

Although Kaz is a man of few words, he seemed truly speechless, barely managing to register his own steps as he moved slowly towards you, each limp bringing his comfort closer and closer to you. Once he had reached your figure, he noticed you had curled in on yourself, hands clasped firmly together in front of you, and eyes darting rapidly around his face, searching for something, as it appeared to him.

He slowly reached towards you, and with a gloved hand, tenderly unwound your fingers from their iron grip, instead intertwining them with his own to bring you comfort and slow your light but swift breathing. Kaz remained tight-lipped, words rushing through his head, yet not formulating into any combination which he thought would be appropriate to calm you down.

He gazed intensely into your eyes, softening with each moment as he took in your shaken state, something that was rare due to his exceptional ability to keep you away from his violent life.

Until now.

Yet you had taught him not to run anymore when he encounters challenges, leading him to battle his mind later, and care for you in the present. Plus, you had the courage to make your way through the barrel in this condition, the least he could do was give you his everything.

You released a long, shaky sigh, staring only at Kaz’s chest now in order to match your breaths, imagining that your hearts were beating together too. You knew Kaz was struggling to find a grip within his thoughts, fingers twitching against your own as his body worked overtime, in a way it only did for you.

Several minutes passed in a strange silence, as the pair of you basked in each other's presence, the close distance allowing both of you to be assured the other is safe and within reach, yet the tension and anxiety still buzzed through the air.

“Someone broke in, I’m not sure who or from where. Tried to steal your favorite tea set, you know the one you brought back from Ravka once? I hit him square like you said. But it, but it boke. Shattered actually. It gave me enough time to run, but I don’t know. He may have followed or…” you suddenly burst out, the emotions flowing out of you through your words, and soon to follow were the tears.

You were cut off in your rambling however, as a feather-light kiss graced your temple, drawing you into a pool of warmth, suddenly able to feel the heat of the fire and the glow of the candles that surrounded Kaz’s office, likely gifts of yours.

Although Kaz’s voice was hardened, you knew he was holding back significantly to soothe you, building up wrath to unleash on the unfortunate man who entered your house earlier. The claws of the anxiety released their hold on you, allowing you to breathe deeply for the first time in hours.

“I’m here, darling, and you don’t need to think about that anymore,” he eventually breathed out, “I'll take care of it. I promise. I promise you,” he whispered against your forehead, again leaving the faintest outline of a kiss on the soft skin.

Whilst he was nowhere near healed, over the years you had opened up his deepest wounds and started to stitch them up, with each moment the pain easing ever so slightly. Direct touches were now common, with light pecks, or hand holding being Kaz's most favored actions.

Sometimes if you were lucky, you could get a short kiss on the lips, or a long hug through the safety of many layers; each being evident signs of his love for you, and how you were truly the only one to crack the code to the Bastard of the Barrel's heart.

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Kaz didn’t leave your side for the remainder of the night, bringing you anything you asked for, sitting the armchair closer to his desk to keep him company, hands held tightly until he deemed it safe enough to escort you home.

Wrapping you warmly with his largest coat, he gently placed his best hat atop your head, offering a small smile and breathy laugh as it tilted at an angle. Looking up to meet his gaze, you returned the grin, smile spreading to your eyes and cheeks. Kaz carefully adjusted the edges of the coat to obscure your face, being thorough in the process to avoid any identification of who was accompanying him.

As the door clicked open, and the pair stepped into the hallway, pinkies interlinked, a group of three snooping crows barreled backwards, hitting into each other and the walls. Kaz sent a deathly glare at each of them, as they stood in shock at the sight before them, Jesper gasping, Wylan gaping with fright, and Nina's smirk widening by the second.

After a series of extreme threats hurled at the group outside his office, Kaz pushed past them and dragged you with him, turning his coat collar upwards to hide the growing embarrassment colouring his face.

He crushed the feeling down, instead turning to his internal plotting to enact revenge on your behalf, inwardly smirking at the image of the man begging him for mercy as he pays for his offence in blood.

Meanwhile, Nina stood grinning to herself, proud of her newfound knowledge which she was certain she could use against Kaz at some point soon. Because from that office, she not only heard the hammering heart of the poor citizen girl, but also the one of a love-struck gang leader too.

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#kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader fluff #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader imagines #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows x reader #six of crows imagine #six of crows #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone season 2 #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker x y/n

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