#this is a very long post beneath the cut
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Well, I got through the Embassy quest. Here's the only clear picture of Chekkatah that I could get. My photo mode finger wasn't very fast when I was going through it, and I most certainly didn't want to restart it for another chance at pictures. Sorry, Chekkatah. Another time.
Other scenes I tried for he was too far into the background and was very fuzzy. He's clear here for the split second before his screen time ends. Spoilers and (lengthy) thoughts below the cut, just in case? Idk.
Chekkatah's about to risk his life to try to pull someone out of further harm's way. (Or so I tell myself.) But alas, he runs from cover just to die immediately with an arrow in his back of all ways to go. It made me sad when I first played that he wasn't even given the "noble"/"honorable" way to go out fighting the enemy, defending someone, or whatever. He got shot in the back.
When I first went through this quest, I actually thought he was trying to run away, which I had scoffed at when I saw it, but (and maybe I'm delusional after having decided that Ikkotah is the best and so want to think his husband was worthy of him, he deserves the best) subsequent views of the whole cut scene definitely made it look like he wanted to get an injured (already dead?) soldier out of the continuous barrage of fire arrows. Which was nice, if a bit futile.
However, I remain a bit annoyed by the Embassy as a whole. I get that they were very outnumbered, fighting against a superior force that had both the high ground, the element of surprise, and came ready to wipe the floor with the very small contingent of individuals gathered for peace talks. But these are supposed to be the Tenakth soldiers who are the best of the best of the best, sir, with honors. They all died far too easily, even Fashav and Javveh, though to a much lesser extent. Again, it was for the plot, I understand, but it still would have been nice if the Marshals could have had more of an impact in the battle or left a more competent mark. Even Nozar, who we're not supposed to like, went out in a better way than the Marshals.
Maybe I'm just too salty about Chekkatah in particular, because his death really sucked, and someone had to tell Ikkotah that his husband died from an arrow in the back. Every single time we see these warrior tropes exercised in stories, emphasis is always placed on honorable ends; to die while fighting or defending. Even the trial by combat after a Tenakth soldier is grievously injured is to provide them an honorable death. To die from an arrow in the back would signal cowardice or ineptitude.
I know I'm overthinking it, and one can make the argument that he died while trying to get someone to safety, but it still feels like Chekkatah wasn't actually using his brain at that moment. Which best of the best warriors should be able to do in the heat of battle. Even a surprise one. He just saw someone needed help and went to go help. I suppose that's noble enough, that his gut reaction is to help without a second thought, but seriously. Under a hail of arrows, you're just going to dash out there? Seriously, Chekkatah? Even Aloy with plot armor doesn't do that. Though the way I play Aloy, she definitely would do that....
This seems to have turned into a proper rant, which was unintentional. I just meant to expound on some thoughts that always bothered me when I think about this quest or play it. The Carja too. They waited way too long to retreat. As soon as Regalla showed up and called out Fashav specifically, it should have been, OK, team, we're out. We did not come to fight, this was a meeting of peace talks, we have no real way to defend ourselves for any kind of fight. Skirmish, maybe, but an ambush would have been retreat in double time.
Again, plot, I understand. As someone who likes to write plots though, I can't help but overanalyze motivations and how realistic and understandable certain reactions would be. I struggle with the Embassy because very little of the motivations make cognitive sense to me. And I try to look at many perspectives. Maybe I'm not as good at that as I thought I was, because there are so many illogical reactions. I know it was a battle and people aren't thinking very well under that kind of stress, but again: best of the best normally have better snap decision making skills and quick assessment abilities.
Anyway, thanks for coming to my talk. Maybe I'm the only one who agonized about the Embassy for a reason that isn't Kotallo's maiming and Fashav's death. At least they both went down fighting.
I'm not saying any of this to start a debate about the psychology of battle or consistent framing of certain aspects of the story and/or cultures, or to actually gripe about this (I love this game and its predecessor too much to actively dislike something), I just wanted to think out loud about why I feel so blah after the Embassy is over. It was high feelings, and an instantly lovable character came and went all in one fell swoop, one our favorite guys gets terribly injured and loses all his close comrades, and Varl gets hurt. And then to have Ikkotah be the most heartbroken sopping wet kitty I've ever met just really seals the deal on how sad that whole thing was.
Also, this particular go through, Aloy ended up in such a position that Javveh's poor dead body was flung at her after the whole thing is over. It was a bit startling when the playable scene sets and Aloy's got Javveh's ankles around her ears for a split second before his body crumples to the ground.
#horizon forbidden west#chekkatah#hfw npc#horizon forbidden west embassy quest#this is a very long post beneath the cut#Apparently I had Feelings to work through#Make private later and post Chekkatah's cute face by itself
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hiiiii!!! I was wondering maybe if you wanted….-
hazbin x reader when reader is just tired and just kinda like falls into them- like needing a hug yk
I needa hug 😒😞
(btw i love your work oml- I’ve comeback to your page at least 4times in the past 2hours)
there's comfort in your arms || hazbin x reader
With Alastor, Lucifer, Husk, Angel Dust, and Vox
tags: gn!reader, exhaustion, comfort, fluff, pre-established relationship/platonic
Alastor
"Oof!" A sudden weight on his back has him twisting halfway around to see who it is. He's not very pleased with the sudden embrace but he's calmed down a bit when he sees that it's you. Alastor peels you off of him, quirking a brow.
"My dear, you look positively worked to the bone. What has happened?" He frowns, a rare trait. He's sending you to bed straight away, can't have his dear friend struggling about when they're so tired!
Lucifer
Immediately frowns, cupping the back of your head. He grasps your shoulders, pulling you back a little. Heavens, it looks like you're on the absolute verge of falling asleep on him! Lucifer holds you close, smiling lightly when your head nuzzles into the crook of his neck. He sighs, delicately wrapping his wings around you.
"I've got you, sweetling. Don't worry." Lucifer hums, stroking your hair gently allowing you to sleep on him.
Husk
Frowning, Husk awkwardly pats your back. He hates seeing you so tired. You're a hard worker, you do more than most. Tucking you beneath his wing, Husk makes sure you stay warm while he continues to wipe down his bar. If he can't leave yet, he may get Charlie or Angel to bring you to bed with the intentions of checking in on you later.
"Don't keep pushing yourself so much, kid. It ain't healthy. Don't make me worry about you, okay?"
Angel
Keeping you upright was a task all on its own. Your eyes could barely stay open and there was a shake to your legs. That fuckin' job of yours was running you absolutely ragged, something he knows well. He lifts you up into his arms easily, heading off to tuck you into bed.
"Ya really gotta cut back on the hours, sweets. This ain't good for ya."
Vox
Eyes going wide, he lightly pats your shoulders. He's pretty alarmed with the sudden display of affection. Vox's lips turn wobbly as you all but seem to go limp against him. With a sigh, he's scooping you up and letting you curl up in his lap while he messes around on his monitors. You can rest there for as long as you need.
|| I DON'T GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORKS TO BE REPOSTED, RESHARED, OR EDITED. TUMBLR IS MY ONLY ACCOUNT AND THE ONLY PLACE WHERE I POST MY WRITING. ALL CHARACTERS BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS, THE STORY BELONGS TO ME. || CHERUBFAE © 2024
"I wish you told me you were so tired, hun. Would've given ya a break."
#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel imagines#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin imagines#alastor x reader#lucifer morningstar x reader#husk x reader#angel dust x reader#cherubfae 2024
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˜”*°•.˜”*°• Plaything •°*”˜.•°*”˜
Synopsis: You've been caught in his trap. And now you're his little plaything. The Upper Moon 4, Hantengu, more so you belong to the 4 clones.
Warnings : smut, gangbang with Hantengu clones, oral(male and female receiving), anal, Double Penetration , degradation, biting, marking, Electroplay, Spit as lube Rough sex , cervix fucking, Monsterfucking , wing play, praise, Blood Kink, creampie, finger sucking, squirting (let me know if I missed anything!)
Word count : 4.6k
Pairing : Hantengu (all four clones) x fem!slayer!reader
A/N: I have no words for this. It's basically straight porn and I know tumblr is gonna slap a label on it. So, check it out on my AO3(same name). I'll link it in my bio/pinned post.
Special thanks to @bleuboyfriend for beta reading it for me! You're amazing Luke!!
Tags: @bakugosbratx (cause I'd get yelled at if I didn't) @herohibiscus (karaku brainrot partner in crime) @linpunny (monsterfucker bestie) @fushisslut (have your lawyer call mine) @sirenspider @unknownspecies @sailewhoremoon @potofstewie @medusashima @sweetblueworm @gh0stfac3-w1f3y @zoroarkstar @potatoboiasta @rav3enmuse @gingerspicelattemix @redsharksimp @shadowvessel172 @hiitogata @iamthepaninpanic @yandere-wishes @tommyinnit-kinnie @maddyybtw @rani-02 @hulahoopingpro @justsomereaderwholikesanime @dedukiddu @shockinglysubmissive @cherryblossomsenpai @cherry1hearts @violxtbxbyy @jeschalynn @jazzthatonewriterchick @comatosebunny09 @ilovetwodmen @cockadodalcuck @nightimewalk-chan @enchantedforest-network
You're not sure how it even happened. You were summoned to slay a demon that had been spotted in a village; only to find a cowardly little imp like Demon that was scared of its own shadow. Cutting its head off wasn't too difficult, but the result was devastating for you. The demon split into four clones of itself. Each one with a different demon blood art.
They cornered you and the green one, Karaku found you to be so very interesting. His clawed hand reached out and caressed your cheek before tipping your chin back. His tongue – marked with the Kanji "pleasure" – slipped past his lips and touched your lips, tasting them. A deep purr like growl rumbled in his chest as he speaks to his counterparts.
"It's been so long since we've been separated and had a little plaything. We deserve to have some fun, right, Sekido?"
His green Kanji branded eyes flickering down to your torn top – the swell of your breasts inviting him as his mouth watered when he could hear your heart pounding beneath your ribcage. Your eyes dart from him to his three other counterparts. His fingers tilt your gaze back to his as he tilts his head down towards yours. “Ne, Sekido, can we have some fun with this pretty little slayer? Please?”
Sekido grits his fangs, his red Kanji branded eyes narrowing as he taps his staff on the ground, bolts of lightning sparking from underneath. His gaze cuts to your eyes and he can smell the fear that emits from you – saturating the air around them in its scent. He growls out, voice guttural and deep. “Only if Aizetsu and Urogi agree.”
Karaku grabs you in his claws and sits you down in his lap, easily pinning you against his chest as he spreads your legs. One hand cupped your breasts, pinching your nipples as the other dug its palm into your core, eliciting a moan from you. The sound was like heaven to his ears. Karaku’s tongue touches the shell of your ear before his fangs nip at it playfully. “Aizestu, Urogi, c’mon say yes. I wanna play with our new toy.”
“Get your hands off of m–” Your words die off in a moan when he rubbed two sharp clawed fingers over the damp spot forming over your panties.
“Hmmm, little plaything. You were saying?” He ground his fingers harder against the clothed little pearl of nerves, making you squeal out. “Just look at my counterparts. Hard just from watching us. You all should join. If not, I’m still going to have fun.”
Urogi’s control finally snapped as a feral grin spreads over his lips when your musky scent permeates his senses. His own tongue – marked with the Kanji “Joy" – flicks out of his mouth as he drops to his knees in front of you. “Fuck, she’s sexy. And we get to have fun with her. Don’t mind if I do.” When Karaku ripped your panties off and tossed them to the side, Urogi wasted no time diving his face between your thighs, his tongue curling through your sticky folds.
You arched your back, pressing your ass back against the other demon’s crotch, involuntarily grinding against his hard cock as the one with golden eyes feasts upon your center. It was ironic that the one with “pleasure” on his tongue was not the one between your thighs. You whimpered when Urogi’s tongue curled through your cunt, slurping messily as he sucked on your clit.
Aizetsu whimpered softly as his cock twitched against his thigh, rising to attention. He watched as his two more confident counterparts have their fun with the pretty slayer. “Karaku.” He said finally, his voice soft almost timid. “I think you should be the one eating her while Urogi fucks her throat.” His face flushed as he palmed himself through his pants. “And Sekido should use his blood demon art to shock her into submission as she takes his cock first.”
Karaku grinned. “That’s a great idea, Aizetsu!” He laid down on the ground, relaxing against the cool floor as his hair fanned out underneath him. “But I think I’d rather her ride my face while Urogi fucks hers.” Easily holding down your hips, he grabbed you and pulled you away from Urogi’s tongue, a string of slick mixed saliva connecting you to the avian-like demon.
Urogi pouted at having his fun ruined, but grinned at Aizetsu’s words. The little shy bastard has some good ideas in that sorrowful mind. He cackled as he fumbled with the tie that held his pants together as Karaku settled you over his awaiting mouth. His talons caressed your face, thumb wiping at the tear that threatened to fall. “You’re going to be a good little cocksleeve for us, right?”
Sekido growled at the softer, more timid counterpart as he tapped his staff against the ground once more. “What utter foolishness. Like I want to stick my cock in that little whore’s body.” But his hard cock betrayed his angry words as he listened to your saccharine moans while his counterparts had their way with you. His narrowed red eyes watched as your throat bulged as Urogi slid his cock in deep, the yellow-eyed demon giggling as you tapped his thigh.
Growling once more, he dropped to his knees, pulling his dick out of his pants and fisted it roughly. His fangs grit as his claws of his other hand found your hair and yanked your head back to force you to meet his eyes. “You should feel lucky that I’m willing to fuck a needy bitch like you.” His palm smacked against the meat of your ass, making your hips buck against Karaku’s eager tongue and forcing more of Urogi’s cock down your throat.
You let out a whimper around the thick girth on your tongue as you feel Karaku dig his claws in your hips, pulling you even further down onto his mouth. He slurped so noisily at your pussy as his tongue dug orgasm after orgasm out of you. You lost count. Your moans were muffled by Urogi as he thrust into your mouth without abandon. Another pathetic sounding moan vibrated in your chest when you feel Sekido’s claws dig into the fat of your ass and spread your cheeks.
Shame filled your body as your eyes darted around, searching for someone to help you, but they only found Aizetsu, who was calmly stroking his cock, pre leaking – oozing from the tip as his face flushed with a blush.
Aizetsu covered his face with his hand as he watched his counterparts. His voice was soft as he directed them on what to do. “Urogi, wrap your hand around her throat, choke her until she’s able to take all of your cock down her slutty little mouth. She doesn't get th breath if she doesn't. Kakaru suck on her clit more while using your tongue to fuck her hole. Sekido...” He pauses, his eyes darkening with desire as he works his hand over his cock faster. “Prep her ass for your cock.”
Your eyes widened when Aizetsu told the red-eyed demon what to do. You try to shake your head, but Urogi had wrapped his talon around your neck, his hips snapping faster as he fucks more of his cock down your throat.
“Now, pretty little plaything. It's not nice to be distracted. Eyes on me.” He grins as he tightens his hand around your neck, relishing in the choke-like moans that vibrated around his length. When you shift those big teary eyes back to his, his tongue fell from his mouth as he curled it in the air. “That’s the fucking look! Cry more, slayer!”
You could feel Sekido’s sharp claws dig into your flesh as he lowered his face between your thighs, his tongue slipping out to trace the ring of your puckered little hole. You couldn’t help the whimper that escaped. Sekido’s tongue was hot – hotter than Karaku’s. It felt like currents of electricity were shooking up and down your spine.
Karaku flicks your clit, scraping it with his fangs as his fingers slip over your clenching hole. He lifts you off his face for a moment to stare up at your face. “Aww, is the pretty little slayer crying?” He cooed condescendingly, “Such a good girl you are.” His praise sounded fake as he pushed his fingers past the first ring of muscles of your dripping pussy. “Oh? Maybe I should call you a slut? Or our little cocksleeve whose only purpose is to be fucked by four demon cocks?”
Moaning around Urogi’s cock at Karaku’s filthy words, words that sounded like they were dipped in honey to your hazy mind. His fingers thrust up into you twisting and turning until they found that spot that made your body twitch and wreath above him. “That's the spot. Come on, let go for me. Cum on my tongue. I take pleasure in it.” Karaku mocked as he licks your cunt with the flat of his tattooed tongue.
“Shit, Karaku. Her throat tightened up when you did that.” Urogi’s cock twitches on your tongue as his talons tangle in your hair, pulling you even further down on his girth. “Fuck, gonna cum down this nasty throat. That what you want? My cum painting that greedy mouth of yours?” His smile was beyond feral as the talon around your neck tightens to the point where you couldn’t breathe.
Sekido growled as you ignored him in favor of his counterparts. His tongue circled the flesh of your asshole before pushing past that tight ring and wiggling inside. “Don’t fucking forget about me, nasty bitch.” He used his blood demon art to send streaks of lightning through your body, making you convulse and shake – the feeling making your body release your juices on Karaku’s tongue.
“Did I fucking say you could cum, dirty slut?” Sekido removed his tongue, fangs biting deeply into the roundness of your cheeks, nails digging into your flesh. He relishes in the fact that you had to pull away from Urogi to scream out from the painful pleasure of his abuse of your ass. Your blood trickled down his throat and he moaned a little at the taste of it. It was sweet – a potent elixir that coats his tongue. “Fucking delicious.”
Aizetsu whimpered as he stroked his cock, his hand still covering his blushing face. His balls felt heavy as his length twitched against his palm, precum dribbling down the leaky tip. He was trying his best to remain calm, telling them how to please you. Aizetsu was shy, but even he had a limit on how much he could take – and he was approaching it. “Karaku, fuck her pussy hard, but don’t cum inside. Sekido, stop teasing her and give her your cock too. Spread her ass and spit in it. Urogi, have her suck your balls.”
Urogi eagerly did as Aizetsu told him, fisting his cock as he tilted your chin to stare deeply into your teary eyes. “Fuck, I love that you're being such a fucking crybaby and we haven’t even fucked you yet.” His thumb slipped into your mouth, talon scraping over your tongue. “You heard Aizetsu. Open up.” Urogi grinned as he placed his balls on your tongue and tossed his head back and lets out a mewl when your lips closed over them to suckle. “Such a good fucking whore you are.”
Karaku licked his lips clean of your sweet essence as he slid you down his chest, a trail of your slick coating his skin until his throbbing cock nudged at your hole. He shuddered at the feeling of your warm pussy gliding over his length. “Gonna fuck you so good. You gonna be a good little toy and take my cock all the way, yeah?” He lined the sticky tip up with your dripping hole and pushed inside with a low moan.
Sekido spread your ass cheeks, his eyes narrowing at the sight of your twitching little hole. Gathering a fat glob of saliva on his tongue, he lets it slide down past his lips to drip down into the crack. He used his thumb to smear it around and slowly pushed it inside to lubricate it more. Sekido lined his cock up with your tight hole and slowly pushes past the ring of muscle. “Tight ass bitch. Let me inside.” He growled as he gripped your hips tightly, claws threatening to rip your skin again.
You stiffened at the pain of being stretched so full by two cocks, the burn almost unbearable. Your moans were muffled by Urogi’s balls still suckled between your lips as he stroked his cock above your face. You whimpered as you felt them taking alternating thrusts inside you, touching the deepest part of you. Tears burned at the corners of your eyes as you could feel your body reacting to them, clenching down on them.
Karaku grinned as he felt your walls flutter and hug his dick tightly, sucking him in deeper. His finger squeezed in between your bodies to toy with the sensitive pearl of flesh. He watched as your back arched against him, shoving more of your ass back onto Sekido’s cock Laughing when he felt your nails dig into his chest like that would make him stop. “You’re so cute, slayer, but Aizetsu said to fuck you hard...” Karaku planted his feet on the ground more firmly, his claws digging into your thighs as he grabbed you tightly. “So, that’s what I’m gonna do.”
Sekido grunted as he snapped his hips roughly, bullying his fat cock deeper into your tight ass. A growl left him as your warm heat wrapped around him, hugging him so tightly. “F-fuck...” He whined softly, his face scrunching up from the pleasure. “Squeezing my dick like this. You must want me to fucking cum in your ass. You’re such a filthy little cumslut.” He grabs your hips so tightly, nails digging into your flesh and causing fresh blood to drip down onto Karaku’s waist.
Urogi’s tongue slipped out of his mouth and curled into the air as he laughed loudly, his cock throbbing at the sight of your tears. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum if you keep looking up at me with that face. Those fucking tears make me so hard. You want that? For me to cum on your face like the needy whore you are?” His voice shudders as his hand speeds up. “Or you’d rather I cum down the fucking throat, plugging up your nose so that you have no choice but to swallow?”
Before you could even answer, Aizetsu made the decision for you. “Make her swallow it, Urogi.”
“You heard him! Open up!” The yellow-eyed clone giggled as he pushed his cock back between your lips, dragging the throbbing hot flesh across your tongue. The tip hit the back of your throat and Urogi howls with pleasure as he grabbed the sides of your head to hold you steady as he fucked into your mouth.
Aizetsu’s face was flushed even as his blue eyes darkened – his control was wearing thin as his cock throbbed with the need for release. His hand wasn’t enough. He wanted to be inside your snug little pussy. He wanted to be the one to fill you so full of cum that it caused a bulge in her belly. Aizetsu bit his lip, fangs piercing the plump flesh and blood dribbled down his chin – which he quickly licked away. Soon. He’d let his counterparts finish first.
Karaku’s hips meet yours as his cock bullied your insides, his tongue out to show the kanji etched on it as his eyes zero in on the way Urogi’s dick bulged in your pretty throat. “Fuck you’re taking all three of us so well.” His fingers tighten around your thighs – they were sure to leave bruises behind, marking you as his. Karaku grit his fangs as his balls slap against your cunt, cock tingling with the tale-tell signs of his release.
He had half an inkling to ignore Aiztesu’s command and cream this drippy little pussy of yours with his cum, paint your deepest parts in his color. But he was kinder than that. Aizetsu has been telling them just how to pleasure you, all while edging himself. “Go ahead.” He leaned up and nipped at your collarbone, sucking at the skin to leave more of his marks behind. “Cum on my cock. Soak it. Y’know you want to.”
Sekido threw his head back, hair fanning out as sweat dripped down the side of his face. Your tight little ass was giving him so much pleasure. His balls tightened as his dick throbbed and swelled inside. “Fucking bitch. Gonna cum in this filthy ass of yours. You’re just a fucking cumdump for me, got it?”
“Fuck, I’m about to cum.” Urogi grins as his talons pinched into the skin of your cheeks as he thrust in and out of your drooling mouth. “Take it! And don’t waste a drop!” With a few more deep thrusts, his hot milky seed filled your throat at such rapid speed that you had no choice but to swallow or choke.
Karaku moans loudly as his hands leave your thighs to squeeze your breasts as he felt you tighten and clench down on his cock as he found that sweet spot, pressing on his repeatedly until he felt you shaking and trembling. “Give it to me, pretty little plaything. Soak me in your juices. Let me see you make a mess like the good little slut we’re training you to be.”
You tossed your head back as you let out a loud cry. “Oh fuck!” You screamed as you came hard on Karaku’s dick, rings of cream frothing around the base as he continues to fuck you through your high. “I...I can’t. Please stop.”
Sekido grunted as he slid his cock out and pushed it in deep – stretching the tight muscles into his shape. “Shit.” He grit his fangs tightly as his claws cut into your skin once more. “Tch.” The red-eyed clone scoffs at the feeling of your blood coating his fingers. Taking his hand, he grabbed your cheek and forced your lips to part. “Suck your filthy blood off my fingers, bitch.”
The metallic taste that covered his fingertips coats your tongue as Sekido fucks into your tight hole with fast deep thrusts as Karaku’s mouth sucked on your nipples, his fang scrapping over the swell of them as his own thrust began to grow more and more sporadic.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” Karaku moaned as he slammed into you once, twice, three more times before he pulled out and fists his slick covered cock. “Shit...” Cum paints your lower stomach and thighs as he finished and breathes heavily as your slick pussy lips grind over his half mast dick because of Sekido’s brutal thrusting.
Sekido grabbed one of your arms and pinned it to the small of your back, forcing you into a deeper arch for him as he fucked your ass with fast, hard snaps of his hips. His cock tingled and swelled inside you as he felt his end nearing. “Slutty ass bitch. You gonna cum from me fucking and filling your ass with my seed? I bet you are.” His teeth grit from the feeling of your tongue swirling around his fingers as you clean the blood off of them. “Fucking...I’m cumming. Cumming...!” He snarled as he came hard, spraying your insides with his hot cum.
You moaned like a cat in heat from the feeling of Sekido filling your tight, puckered hole – it creamed around his cock because it was so much. You collapsed on top of Karaku, chest heaving. “No...” you swallowed. “No, more.”
Karaku runs his claws soothingly over your back, his grin never leaving his face as he heard Aizetsu slowly making his way over to where you were. “But you only took three of us. There are four of us.” He reminded you as the shy blue-eyed clone pulled you up and into his arms.
Aizetsu cupped your cheek as he lifted you up against him and wrapped your legs around his waist. His lips found yours as his tongue seeks out yours. He swallowed your muffled cries and ignored your fists as they pound against his chest. He lined his weeping cock up with your hole, lifting your hips easily.
“Wait a second, Aizetsu. I ain't get a turn to fuck her.” Urogi said as he flew over to the two of you. “Lemme have her ass.”
Hands spread your ass cheeks, cum still dripping out of the tight hole of your ass. “This ass?” Aizetsu whispered as he slid inside your pussy with one fluid movement, your arms automatically wrapped around his neck as you moaned so beautifully for him. “G-go a-fuck-ahead.”
You let out a shocked gasp when the yellow-eyed avian-like demon let out a cackle as his talons wrapped around your shoulders as he lined his cock up with your still twitching hole as Aizetsu slowly thrust up into you. “No, please. I can’t take it anymore.”
Aizetsu turns your face back to his, his tongue – the Kanji “sorrow” etched into the pink muscle – sliding out to lick at the tears that gathered in your eyes. “You can, pretty slayer. Aren’t we making you feel so good? Tell me I’m making you feel good, please?”
Urogi ignored your pleas and pushed the fat tip of his cock past the tight ring of muscles, his knees buckling a bit. “Fuck, you’re so god damn tight. Such a horny thing.” He licked a line up your back, tasting the sweat that covered it. “You love having two cocks in your tight ass and cunt, right?”
Karaku felt left out and walked over to where his counterparts were and grabbed your hand. “C’mon pretty slayer, touch me too.” Wrapping your fingers around his cock, he used the movements from the other two thrusting up onto you to fuck your fist.
You wrapped your other arm around Urogi’s neck, nails digging into his back as he and Aizetsu pound into you. You could tell the difference between the two by the pace. Aizetsu was slow, methodical and careful – building up an orgasm out of you. While Urogi fucked into you at an animalistic pace, his balls smacking against the curve of your ass. Your mouth dropped open into a series of drawn out curses, nails digging into Urogi’s back as the other squeezed Karaku’s cock.
“Oi, human!” Sekido growled out, not liking that he was the one left out now. “You got one more hole, let me–” He started to take a step towards them, his cock bobbing as he moved when all three of his counterparts glared at him.
“We wanna hear her.” They growled. The sounds of your moans were like the sweetest of sounds to their ears and they wanted to hear it more and more.
Aizetsu angled his hips so that his thrusts were deep, the thick tip fucking against your cervix with each precise thrust. His mouth drops open in a whimper as his eyes teared up from the feeling of your pussy quivering around him. “Please. Need for you to tell me that I’m making you feel good, slayer. I need to hear it.”
Each word of his last sentence was punctuated by a deep thrust and your head fell back against Urogi’s shoulder. “Fuck! You’re making me feel so fucking good.” You gave into the hypnotic spell Aizetsu was lulling you into with his gentle and tender touches.
Urogi laughed as he picked up speed, his balls starting to tighten with the threat of his release. “You’re damn right we are.” His feathers ruffled when your nails dig into the skin between them. “H-hey...” He mewled. “Not the wings.” The avian-like demon lets out a screen when your hand grabs the downy feathers near the base of his wings. A shudder goes down his spine as his dick swelled inside you as it began to paint your walls with his thick cum. “Fucking dammit...”
Karaku watched as Urogi fell to his knees, his cock popping out of you as he did so. Aizetsu took that time to turn you around, hands wrapping under your thighs so that he could easily lift you up and down on his cock. “Don’t mind if I do.” He shoved the yellow-eyed clone out of the way as his lips attached to your clit.
The scream you let out was like music to them as Sekido begrudgingly walked over to use your hand to stroke his cock to completion. Your other hand wrapped around Aizetsu’s neck as you moaned those sweet sounding cries in his ear, encouraging him that he was still making you feel good. His lips nuzzled your ear as his voice rumbled, “Cum for me. Let me feel you soak my cock. That way I really know I’m making you feel good.”
“Yeah, our pretty plaything. Cum for Aizetsu and let me taste it. You can squirt, right?” His tongue swirled on your clit, teasing it with the tip as the blue-eyed clone thrust into you so deeply that your body jerked, hand tightening around Sekido’s cock.
“Fucking shit, bitch.” Sekido cursed, the tip drooling with pre as he felt his balls draw up, the telltale sign that he was about to cum. He fucked your fist faster, the slick sounds of it echoing in his ear. Sekido lets out another grunt before he spilt his seed, coating the top of your fist with it. “Making me cum like that...you’re such a whore...” he panted.
Aizetsu bounced you on his cock, determined to make you cum – to make you squirt so hard you passed out from the pleasure. His fangs grazed over the shell of your ear before he stuck his tongue in your ear as he felt you tighten up on his length. “Just let go and be our plaything.” He whispered.
Your back arched like a cat as you felt your thighs tremble, clit throbbing on Karaku's greedy tongue. Your chest heaved as your body convulsed, cumming hard, squirting – the hot clear liquid drenching Karaku’s face and dripping down Aizetsu’s thighs.
“Good fucking girl.” The green-eyed clone praised after he swallowed what he was able to catch on his tongue.
Aizetsu let out a whine as he trailed his tongue down the length of your neck before biting down gently on your pulse point. His thrust sped up until he was pounding into your soaked pussy. “Oh fuck. Oh shit...” He whimpered, tongue lapping at your pulse as he felt his cock twitching. He wasn’t to last much longer. “Gonna cum. Gonna cream this pussy. Say that’s what you want. Please tell me you want my cum.”
In your hazy fucked out mind, anything he said sounded heavenly. You mewled out weakly, “Want your cum. Give it to me.”
No sooner than those words left your throat, Aizetsu gave you a few more deep, cervix kissing thrusts before his hot cum spilled over inside your needy cunt. “Take it. Take it all.” He whined out as he fucked it deeper into you. “You’re our plaything now.”
Even you had to agree, You’ve become the plaything of the Upper Moon 4, Hantengu – no, the four clones, Sekido, Urogi, Karaku, and Aizetsu.
©️2022-23 nymphoheretic - I do not give permission to copy, edit, alter, or distribute my work. Do not adverse on tiktok. Do not repost on any other platform.
#nymphomanic♡#kny smut#kny karaku#kny aizetsu#kny urogi#kny sekido#demon slayer smut#demon slayer x you#demon slayer x y/n#demon slayer x reader#kny x reader#kny x you#karaku x reader#urogi x reader#sekido x reader#aizetsu x reader#kny hantengu#hantengu x reader#hantengu clones
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Dreams Become Reality
Gale Dekarios x Fem!Reader
A/N: FINALLY got this finished lmao. Posted a teaser of this weeks ago and it has been sitting in my drafts ever since staring at me as I stared back it. Type a few words. Stop for a few says. Few more words, an even longer break. And so on lol. But it’s finally here! Based on the request.
Word Count: 3.1k
Warnings: 18+ ONLY, NSFW, smut, Reader is described as having female anatomy, fingering, gale comes untouched (kinda), choking, wet dreams, inappropriate use of Mage Hand, fluff and slight aftercare at the end.
The air around you is thick.
Thick with tension. Thick with the warm breaths leaving both your lips. Thick with the smell of arousal.
It’s all consuming - Gale, is all consuming. Surrounding and overtaking your every sense.
The scent of him fills your nose - sandalwood, and old books, and right now, sweat. The exertion has made a thin layer form on his skin as his body slides against your own.
Gale surrounds you in every way, cocooning you between his body and the sheets, his lips very rarely leaving your skin as he moves with you, thrusting his hips against your own, bringing you closer and closer to the edge you long to jump off of.
“Gale…”
His name falls from your lips in a whispered prayer, begging for more as he responds with a soft groan of his own.
He calls your name, and you whine in response. But then he calls it again, the sound falling in a gasp from his lips as one of his hands reaches up to clasp your shoulder in tight grip.
He calls your name again and this time darkness crashes around you as you startle awake in bed.
Your sleep clothes cling uncomfortably to your sweat-damp skin. Blood rushes in your ears as your chest rises and falls with effort to suck in air. And worst of all is the ache in your core, arousal burning bright in your belly from what you now realize was a dream.
Another gentle squeeze to your shoulder makes your eyes finally fall to Gale, who sits beside you in the bed and appears positively flustered.
He’s as short of breath as you are, chest stuttering as he gazes at you, eyes wide. You look him over quickly, and even in the darkness of the room you’re able to see the way his pupils are blown wide with lust and dark flush on his cheeks. And, you definitely don't miss the sight of him hard beneath the covers.
“Shit…” you mutter, your own face heating up as you realize what happened.
“Did I wake you?” you ask softly, trying and failing to tamp down the images from your dream. “I was…I’m sorry-“
Gale shakes his head, his hand falling down to lace his fingers with yours as his lips tilt up in a small smile.
“No need for apologies,” he tells you, ever so slightly leaning in. “Most people would consider that a compliment. When their partner dreams of them in such a manner, well - at least, I hope it was me that was plaguing your dreams considering it was my name falling from your lips-“
You cut him off as you lunge for him, covering his mouth with your hand as you shush him, embarrassment swelling in your chest.
“Do you ever stop talking?”
Gale hums beneath your hand, and reaches up to pull it away from his mouth. You expect him to respond but instead, suddenly, he flips you over and presses you back into the mattress, his body hovering over yours as his hands hold your own beside your head.
“I do indeed know when to hold my tongue but…” He pauses for a moment, and you blink in surprise as a candle on the bedside table ignites with a wave of his hand, casting you both in a dim glow before he continues.
“I find myself most curious as to what had you calling my name like that even in the deepest sleep.”
Gods, you feel at war with yourself. The embarrassment creeping up your neck and heating your cheeks, clashing with the arousal still burning bright in your veins. The images from your dream flash behind your eyes as they slip closed, yet the thought of voicing them makes you shrink into the covers.
As if sensing your hesitancy, Gale is the first to act, leaning in to capture your lips in a soft kiss, lips moving against yours before he pulls away just slightly, nose brushing your own.
“How about I guess, hm?” he asks, his voice low as one of his hands lets go of one of yours.
His fingers brush against the shell of your ear, traveling lower over your neck, down over your shoulder to brush against your clothed breast. Your breath hitches with the contact, and you watch through half-lidded eyes as Gale’s lips tilt upward ever so slightly.
“Was I touching you here?” he asks, voice a mere whisper as his thumb rubs over the stiff peak of your nipple. “Or perhaps it was…here…”
His hand leaves your chest in favor of slipping ever downwards, toying with the thin fabric of your underwear beneath your sleeping gown.
Without much thought, you nod your head, a moan slipping past your lips as the heat of your arousal burns brighter.
Gale’s eyes twinkle with triumph, and instead of leaving him with that satisfaction, another flash from your dreams makes you speak before that earlier embarrassment can creep back up.
“But…there was something else…” you manage to say, your voice soft as your cheeks blaze with heat.
Gale’s head tilts to the side ever so slightly at your words, brows winging up in surprise as he stills.
“Oh?” he breathes. “Now I must know what was going on in that beautiful head of yours.”
Despite your best effort, something akin to shame wells up in your chest, regret at ever saying anything invading your mind. But Gale’s unadulterated interest, that ever present curiosity in his gaze, practically begs you to please him by voicing your fantasies.
You let out a shaky sigh. “What if…what if you think it’s…what if you don’t like it?” you ask sheepishly.
Gale lets out a small chuckle, eyes soft as his free hand retreats from between you to rest encouragingly against your hip, squeezing gently.
“My love,” he says quietly. “I can assure you that you will receive no wayward looks or reprimands from me. Your desires and fantasies are your own, I must admit - but dare I say I would be more than eager to help you fulfill them.”
His words soothe you slightly, but that doubt is still present, and Gale must know you’re about to protest when your lips part, because he stops you with another kiss.
“I assure you,” he says as he pulls away just enough to hover over you. “If for any reason I am not comfortable I will make it known. Just as I would expect you to do if our positions were reversed.”
You manage a small nod, muscles quivering in subdued excitement as you reach down to take the hand at your hip slowly bringing it back on your body.
“You were touching me there,” you say softly, voice sultry with arousal. “But you were also…here.”
Your nerves are still tingling with a tinge of uncertainty as you guide his hand to the base of your throat.
A shiver passes the through you as the calloused palm of his hand brushes over the delicate skin, his fingers twitching in surprise as you gently press them to wrap around the sides of your neck.
You watch through lowered lashes for his reaction, your heart tittering when his breath hitches, eyes widening and going dark with lust all at once.
For just a brief moment, you expect him to pull away, but Gale - as usual - surprises you. His fingers flex, pressing just a bit firmer into the pulse points of your neck, his palm placing just the barest of pressure to your throat, making your already labored breathing come out ragged as a moan slips past your lips.
“Gods above…” Gale groans, leaning up so his lips hover over your own. “This is what you dreamt of? My hands on your skin, bringing you pleasure while also toying with the slightest bit of danger?”
He presses his fingers in deeper, not enough to leave marks or completely cut off air, but more than before and enough to make you acutely aware of the blood pumping beneath his fingers, and the breath straining through your throat.
You can feel new wetness pooling between your thighs, joining the arousal already present from your obscene dreamscape.
And Gale…Well, he seems just as affected as you are. His hips have slotted against your own, pushing up your nightgown as he presses himself against you.
All you can manage is a small nod to his question, not sure you’d be able to speak if you wanted to. Ecstasy courses through your veins, buzzing delightfully and fanning those flames burning deep in your core even higher as his hand tightens just that much more around your throat.
Another moan works its way up your throat, this time getting stuck before it can fully pass your lips, the sound smothered by the pressure again your neck.
Gale lets out another sinful sound, his hips pressing more incessantly against your own, enough that you can feel the hardness of him against your clothed center.
Just when you think he’s had enough, that all too familiar heated look in his eyes, he pauses.
Your brows furrow as his grip against your throat loosens as he mutters an unintelligible incantation. You go to question him, but you hear his answer before you even voice the question.
His voice is smooth in your mind, as if he’s speaking directly to you, his lips never moving.
‘I don’t want there to be any question of if you’re able to stop me.’ His thought comes into your mind as easily as if he were speaking, and your eyes widen.
“Detect thoughts?” you ask, shocked at the brilliance of the idea.
Now neither of you need to physically speak to communicate, thus no fear for Gale if you need to stop.
Gale smiles, leaning down to capture you lips in a searing kiss.
‘Exactly,’ he says in your mind. ‘And now…there is no need for my lips to leave your skin, no distractions from fulfilling that dream of yours…’
“Gale, please-“ you beg aloud, your patience now gone, and your only desire being him touching you, taking you in the way he was before your dream was snatched from your unconscious hands.
Gale chuckles, lips breaking from yours to travel lower, nipping at your jaw and trailing featherlight kisses down your neck.
‘Though I must admit…those words sound much sweeter falling from your lips than floating through my mind.’
He continues his path downwards, no doubt leaving behind ample evidence of his attentions, until he’s stopped in his tracks by the collar of your sleep clothes. It’s then that you both finally move to divest yourselves of the offending articles.
Your hands move frantically against Gale’s velvet shirt, the fabric clinging to your hands as you bunch it up to eventually tug it over his head. His pants are not far behind, the renowned wizard helping you with those before his lips are on you once more, only parting from you as he removes your nightgown, the fabric forcing you to separate for just a moment before you claim him again.
It feels like déjà vu as Gale presses you back into the mattress, his body caging you in, cocooning you in a heady warmth as his scent surrounds you.
Flashes of your dream come to mind once more, and you’re forced to swallow the moan that Gale lets out, his teeth nipping gently at your bottom lip as he begs for entrance.
You grant his silent request eagerly, moaning unabashedly agsint him as his tongue presses forward to glide against your own.
Gale has always been a giving lover, desperate to show you how much he loves you when his words sometimes fail him. Even now you can tell he’s hells bent on indulging your fantasies. But it feels different…It feels as if he’s more eager than usual. His lips less precise, his fingertips digging just a bit harder into your hips…
He’s ravenous.
And who are you to complain?
Sensing your thoughts, you can feel Gale smile agsint your lips, his voice flooding your mind once more as you open your own to the spell.
“Ravenous, indeed,” he affirms, his hand snaking it’s way back up your sternum, closing deftly around your throat as he pulls away only to gaze down at you.
His lips are swollen from your charred kisses, chest quickened with short pants, eyes blown wide with lust as he fully takes you in beneath him.
“I have seen your desires in your minds eye,” he says aloud, voice drenched in pure sin. “But perhaps I may make a suggestion?”
You can only nod, a whimper slipping past your lips as his fingers tighten against your pulse point, teasing you with the barest hint of pressure.
He smiles down at you - a wicked cunning thing, and you can’t help the way the coil in your belly pulls ever more taut, blood hot with ecstasy at the gleam in his eyes.
He leans back down, another soft incantation falling from his lips before they capture your own again, and he’s speaking in your mind again just as a ghostly touch brushes against the delicate skin of your inner thigh.
“With my hands most occupied-“ he flexes his hand against your throat, finally giving you the pressure you wish for as his other hand support himself beside your head. “I’ll need another to assist.”
He gives you no true warning before you feel a hand at your center, palm pressed agsint your clit as two fingers drag agonizingly slow through your slick folds.
Gale’s hand cuts off the moan that bubbles up in your throat, lips swallowing what little sound does slip through, as your hips buck up into his own.
Mage hand.
You barely have time to register that the sneaky bastard had cast the spell before the extension of himself is teasing you one more, pressing against that bundle of nerves before moving down to sink two fingers into you.
Gale presses his fingers deeper into the sides of your throat as you groan once more - both from the magic pleasuring you and the rush in your head from the way he chokes you.
You don’t even realize how close you were to the edge until this moment. The pressure building in your core and in your head feeling like too much in the best way possible.
Everything feels like it’s been dialed to one hundred. The threads of the sheets beneath your skin, the smell of Gale surrounding you, the way his lips brush against your cheek when he breaks from the kiss, the fingers moving inside of you - brushing against that spot that makes you see stars.
You can feel the way his breath comes out in short bursts, the air warm against your dewy skin as he presses his body into your own.
It’s just like your dream again. Him cocooning you entirely, his smell making your mouth water, his hand against your throat making your head pound, and his magic finally throwing you over the edge.
You come with little warning to the wizard above you, but you’re sure he is able to tell. Whether it be from your jumbled thoughts no doubt being shouted at him from your connection, or the fact that he knows you so well…He’s prepared.
As you tumble over that precipice, Gale applies just a little more pressure to your throat, enough so you can still gain air, but just barely.
You can feel your pulse pounding beneath his fingertips, your breath scratching against your throat as ecstasy consumes you. It feels as if pure starlight ignites in your veins, a ragged moan breaking through as you arch up into the body above you, seeking more from your lover as he does the same, grinding his hips into yours.
Gale reaches his own end virtually untouched, the mere friction from your body against his and the pure pleasure of indulging your fantasy has him spending himself on your stomach with a groan.
His grip around your neck loosens before disappearing entirely as he all but collapses against you, uncaring of the mess between you two as he slips strong arms around you before rolling to the side, taking you along with him.
It’s a few moments before either of you speak, and you realize both the mage hand and the detect thought spells have ended. No doubt Gale’s own end brought about the disruption of his concentration. But when words finally come, it’s Gale who speaks first.
His fingers brush against your neck gently, barely a whisper of skin against skin as he takes a deep breath.
“I fear I may have gotten carried away,” he says softly, brows furrowed in concern as you pull away just enough to look at him.
You reach up, your fingers bumping against his own and can feel the way your skin burns just slightly hotter where his hand was earlier. There must be faint marks of your activities, and you have to try to quell the new stab of arousal that shoots through you.
“You didn’t,” you assure him, reaching up to cup his cheek. “It was perfect.”
His face relaxes at your words, lips tugging upwards slightly.
“Yes, well…Next time perhaps you can indulge me with your deepest fantasies verbally, instead of waking me in the middle of the night.”
You raise a questioning brow at him, hands sliding up until you can slide your arms around his neck.
“Are you saying you didn’t enjoy yourself?”
Gale scoffs, nearly choking on air. “By the gods, no!” He says, aghast. “I’m simply saying that perhaps, in the future, we can disclose our fantasies more readily…So we may indulge as we please.”
You hum softly, eyes widening at his words.
“Our fantasties?” You question, watching as a blush starts to tinge the wizard's cheeks.
“Ah, well - ehm - Yes. You didn’t think you’re the only one with uh…secret desires, did you?”
Slowly, you move so that Gale is laid out beneath you as you straddle his wait, hands planted on his chest as you gaze down at him.
“And…what would your fantasies be?”
Gale pauses for a moment, unsure. But you lean down to press a quick kiss to his cheek, before pulling back, a smirk on your lips.
“Come, my love,” you tease. “How about I guess, hm?”
Gale lets out a soft groan at your repeat of his earlier jest, and you can’t help but laugh as his hands come up to settle on your hips. You lean down to kiss him properly this time and can’t stop the excitement pooling in your belly once more.
The night is still young, and you have a feeling that there is much more to discover.
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anakin being so pussy drunk that he cant sleep bc he didn’t fuck you at least once that day but you’ve already gone to sleep. he can’t help himself seeing you all so pretty and peaceful sound asleep that he doesn’t even bother to wake you up just sinks his cock in without a second thought.
does anyone know where to get a wet floor sign cause i gushed
obvious cw for somnophilia, very quick and fleeting mention of anal (no actual activity), don't like don't read.
this post is 18+, minors dni.
His cock is already hard from the moment he steps through the door- perhaps if he hadn't spent the elevator ride thinking about sinking it into your wet, warm cunt, he wouldn't be so inconvenienced.
But it's hard, and aching, and only getting worse, so he sheds his Jedi garb as quickly as humanly possible. A belt here, a tunic there, boots sloppily discarded by the door. By the time he gets to your bedroom he's wearing only an undershirt and briefs, but he disposes of the thin cotton shirt in the doorway.
You're sleeping. Illuminated gorgeously by the two of four moons that are visible from Coruscant's surface. They spill a pale halo of light around your sleeping form that catches on your sleek satin gown, pools deliciously in the space just beneath your thighs where the chub of your ass takes over and- Anakin's even stiffer.
It's a gift from whatever god Anakin unconsciously believes in. Whether it's a local legend from his days on Tatooine, or the will of the Force, some higher power has shed ethereal light on your body, and Anakin feels called to indulge in its divine gift.
You're laid out on your stomach with one knee tucked up to your side, and an arm thrown beneath your ribs to offset the heft of your breasts. You complain about pain when you lie on your stomach for too long- Anakin's surprised that you're sleeping like this. But he is not complaining, not when it offers him a perfect view of the gentle curve of your mound that rests between your thighs, parted to offer your leg enough room to bend the way that it does.
His cock begs for your pussy, tearing and ripping and struggling against the fabric of his briefs, and when he yanks them down his thighs his cock springs so tightly that it hits his stomach, leaving a sticky smear there.
No matter - things will get messier.
Anakin can't spot a wet stain on the pad of your panties, but it's no matter. He can supplement until your body catches up. He retrieves a bottle of lube from your bedside drawer- almost empty, seriously, do you guys fuck that much? -and pools some on his palm, stroking his dick with it so that it smears over his length.
He has to be careful not to work himself up too much with his own hand- no self-achieved orgasm will ever be as good as what he'll experience in your cunt.
His dick is properly slicked now, but he squirts a generous stream of the stuff onto your cunt once he pulls back your panties, unable to resist the urge to spread it through the split of your ass.
That's not the hole he's going for tonight, but he's never been able to keep his hands to himself.
Hands braced on either side of your body- one slick with lube - he leans his weight on the mattress, and draws his wet hand back to his cock. He needs no help after the initial guidance of the first thrust, and once he's gently pushed his cock through your artificially slickened entrance, he huffs out a sigh that blows hot against your back. The slip you're wearing is low-cut enough that the heat hits your bare skin, and he's not sure if it's the penetration or the sudden gust of air that makes you shiver.
You let out a strangled moan- something between surprised and pleasure, and Anakin is relived to feel his cock sliding smoothly through your cunt. You nag him about wasting lube; he's a very generous pour, but if it means you're feeling pleasure and not discomfort, he'll empty the whole bottle.
He dips down to kiss your cheek, his broad shoulders flexed against his muscled back- not that you're awake to enjoy it.
"Shh, s'okay angel," He groans, drawing in a shaky breath as he drags his hips backwards, pushing in once more to the heat of your cunt, "It's- it's okay, I just- agh, I need this. Just- let me have this, angel, let me- let me take it."
#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker imagine#anakin skywalker scenario#anakin skywalker oneshot#anakin skywalker one-shot#anakin skywalker one shot#anakin skywalker headcanon#anakin skywalker headcanons#anakin skywalker hcs#anakin skywalker hc#anakin skywalker fanfiction#anakin skywalker fanfic#anakin skywalker fic#anakin skywalker blurb#anakin skywalker drabble#anakin skywalker dialogue#anakin skywalker fluff#anakin skywalker smut
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cw: cunnilingus, not sfw, arranged marriage reader wearing a gown (no pronouns). based on this post from a few days ago. 3.1k
There's a pout on your pretty mouth that Wriothesley is utterly itching to kiss off.
It’s an expression he’s grown rather used to on the face of his spouse; somebody as properly born and bred to society as you finds themselves a touch adrift when faced with Wriothesley’s own gruff manner, his inability to kowtow to the strictures that Fontainian society attempts to place on those who have ascended to its lofty heights.
Unfortunately, when his availability had become common knowledge and eager parents had flocked to him in order to hawk their beloved children like so many lovely wares, he had found himself exceedingly drawn to you. To the stiff little way you held yourself and inclined your head, the way your voice had shook - the way that you hadn’t immediately tried to flutter your lashes and laugh at things that were not jokes.
It had not hurt that your family, though fine of name and lineage, had fallen somewhat into financial difficulty. Some parents had withdrawn their offspring from the game of courtship when it had become clear that though Wriothesley now had the title of ‘Duke’, he was still at heart a former criminal, and not the genteel fawning aristocrat they had expected to find.
(A title is not enough to take back over half a life spent in the fortress of Meropide, after all; not enough to scrub the memory of noses crunching beneath his fists, of what it feels like to end someone’s life even if it is for the greater good).
Your family, though, had needed the boost; the Mora and the prestige. And so you had remained achingly polite and maddeningly prim and proper and so very obviously inexperienced that the sweetness of it all made the back of Wriothesley’s teeth ache.
“Where are you taking me?” You ask him, in a soft whisper, as his hand fastens firmly but not bruisingly about your upper arm; as your husband maneuvers you away from the chatter of the ballroom. “You’ve barely greeted anyone--”
He knows you are scandalised; that your parents have taught you to be the gracious party guest, to bow and chatter idly and wax poetic about crystal champagne glasses. But Wriothesley has spoken to Chief Justice Neuvillette (just as out of place and adrift here as Wriothesley himself), and he considers that his duty properly done. He has no desire to do the things that are expected of him.
Not when that pout on your face - the way the light hits the glimmering petals of your lower lip - is begging to be kissed within an inch of its life, and the moonlight streaming through the windows is illuminating the curves of you in your pretty gown, and he knows that you will squirm and squeak and call him a dirty old man in that way he loves, your voice pitching with desire you’re still not sure about, the moment he has you alone at his mercy in one of the shadowed hallways of tonight’s party.
“Just to get some air,” he says, giving a smile that’s all wolf-bared teeth to the closest gentleman who dares to give you both a briefly disapproving look. “Isn’t it just so horribly stuffy in there?”
Your nose wrinkles, between your brows creasing. Wriothesley thinks about kissing every place the flesh furrows on your face, covering you in them until you’re helpless to do anything but laugh. He always feels like a hero when he has managed a laugh out of you; you seem to give them so rarely, and it’s such a darling little bell of a noise.
“It’s barely been ten minutes,” you settle on, the faintest hint of reproach in your voice. “It’s really not polite . . .”
What is not polite, he thinks, is the way that the run of his thoughts have turned to your dress, cut low enough to make people think indecent thoughts about you. There are no manners, either, to the fact he is thinking about the perfume he had watched you dab on this evening, and wondering how long he’d have to rut into you until the only thing that people could smell on you would be the musk of his ownership.
“They’ll live,” Wriothesley says firmly, steering you out into the hallway. “You ought to know nobody here really wants my esteemed company.”
There’s no bitterness in his voice. Wriothesley does not want to be beloved of this particular roiling mass of humanity; the aristocracy, in his experience, is all artifice. He may spend his time with criminals, but at least the criminal underclasses are usually honest about what they want. They’ve been taught that ‘you do not get if you do not ask, do not try, do not work for it’ - these people, this gathering of society schmoozers . . . they get simply by being born.
Of course, since he married you, there have been more invitations than before.
Part of it is curiosity - what kind of spouse will the Duke of the Fortress take? One like him, who does not conform? Some of them want nothing more than to ogle at you and find out your secrets, poke you in your softest parts so they know if you will be a weakness that they can later exploit. Wriothesley finds these people distasteful - at least some of the invitations come from those who have already met you, who have been charmed by your pretty manners and sweet way of speaking, who are hoping that perhaps you will be some calming influence on your uncivilised brute of a husband. He still doesn’t like these invitations, of course (any event in which he is forced to put on a stiffly starched shirt and button it to his throat, to fuss with cravats and tailcoats when he’d rather stick to his own clothes, are not generally met with much pleasure for him), but at least you always seem thrilled to get them.
It’s because of you he had accepted this one. When you had brought the invitation to him all bright-eyed and chirping, like a pretty magpie with a shiny coin, he had not been able to think of an excuse faced with you looking so utterly thrilled . . . and so he’d helped you choose a dress (he does so love you in black and red, and if he had chosen something cut low in the chest for reasons of his own, who is going to blame him when they see you?), and had travelled out of the Fortress in order to please you.
He’d only lasted ten minutes, but perhaps after he’s pleased himself the two of you can go back out into the throes and he will have the memory of what you’ve just done to dwell on as he pretends to care about the difference between the fish fork and the dessert fork.
“That’s just because you don’t let them see the real you,” you begin, but Wriothesley has seen what looks like a likely little hallway - secluded and dark, only one or two doorways leading off of it. He tugs at you, and though you offer a token resistance, you allow yourself after a moment to be pulled into the little alcove, and for your husband to cage you against a wall. Your breath catches, your lashes fluttering as your eyes flit to take in the breadth of him, the muscles, the way you are inescapably caught by him - and Wriothesley does not miss the desire that dances over your gaze. “Your Grace--”
“Mmm?” He asks, raising an eyebrow, lowering his face closer to yours so that he can see himself reflected in your eyes. His cock twitches at the way you bite your lip unconsciously, and he knows from the little gasp that you do not miss the sensation of it against you. “Am I doing something untoward again, sweetheart?”
He lets his voice roughen a touch on the word; the patois of the criminal flavouring it in a way that reminds you he is dangerous, and you pout so sweetly and let out the quietest little whine that he doesn’t know how he stops himself from having his way with you right then and there. There are many untoward things he would like to do to you; many untoward things he is planning on doing to you, right here, in public.
“It’s indecent . . .” You gasp - but you still wrap your arms around his neck, and still pull him in to let him kiss you hot and hungry and fierce as a wolf. He cannot get enough of the way you taste beneath him; there is sugar that lingers on your lips even when he hasn’t seen you imbibe anything but a single glass of champagne when offered. He wants to devour you; to taste every part of you, until his mouth only remembers the lingering remnants of your own.
You gasp, pressing your body - soft and impossibly pliable - against his wherever you can reach him, hard planes of muscle meeting the softer give of your flesh beneath your gown.
“You seem to like it well enough,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to whisper it into the delicate shell of your ear, delighting in the way the words make you shiver. You try to school your face to sternness, but your own desire betrays you even as you try and pull your dignity around you like a cloak.
“B-But, Your Grace, in public--”
“Mm . . . doesn’t the thrill of being caught make it seem all the sweeter?” He gives you a grin that shines like the sharks that sometimes float past the Fortress, serenely serrated. You squeak in a cross between dismay and longing as he sinks to the floor, and his big, scarred hands find the hem of your gown to begin pushing it up your ankles.
The frills and fripperies of lace and ribbons look almost wicked, in those hands; fine, delicate concoctions of fabric and satin that were not made to be man-handled. You shiver at the thought of his grip ripping through them; of fine fabrics being rent asunder in his hands as you know he is capable of.
“We shouldn’t--” You whisper, in that pitching whine of ‘don’t’ that is only a step away from ‘please don’t stop’.
His palms - he will not even grudgingly wear full gloves - feel cool, even through your stockings, as he slides them up your calf. His chuckle is a rough-spurred thing, and before you can say anything further he has disappeared beneath your skirts entirely, and you find yourself clinging to the moulding on the wall behind you to try and get some semblance of purchase.
He tugs at one of the ribbons that keeps your stockings held up, and from the hot puff of air against your bare thigh, you know he has done so with his teeth. Your pulse flutters in your throat, your vision fair spotting with the mixture of feelings that Wriothesley’s actions are drawing forth from you - desire and shame and wanting and need and unsurety, all mixing together inside of you in a cocktail of arousal so potent you barely know how you stand it.
A wet, open-mouthed kiss is pressed to the spot above your stocking, on your bare thigh. You feel the graze of his teeth against the soft skin, unseen by anyone aside from him. Unmarked by anyone aside from him (you have learnt that the Duke is very fond of using his teeth, during his bed-chamber escapades; you have learnt more at his mouth and his fingers and his mercy than you had ever thought that you would have cause to know).
Wriothesley’s cock is so hard in his too-tight formal trousers that he can barely think of anything but the pulse between his thighs, but the moment he has his head beneath your skirts and he can scent your arousal on the air, all thoughts of tending to his own almost-painful erection instead turn to tasting you, smelling you, burying himself inside of you until you are a helpless mess.
He knows that logically you taste, probably, of the oils and the powders and the lotions you use, on your skin and in your bath. Perhaps a touch of your own sweat - but to Wriothesley, the taste that lingers on the tip of his tongue as he takes his time kissing up your thigh, working towards the apex between them, is nothing short of ambrosial. He can hear his own breaths, hard and panting, but he has never been the kind of man who lets himself feel shamed for doing what he wants.
“You’re dripping,” he grunts, and the muscles in your thighs jump, tensing, as if you’re cringing at what he has said - and though he cannot see you from his place beneath the skirts of your gown, he can gladly imagine the expression on your face. You’re darling. He wants to kiss you until you can’t breathe and fuck you until you can’t walk; but for now . . .
He settles by kissing over the softness of your mound, letting his hot breath once more fan out over that most intimate part of you. He hears you whine again from somewhere above him;
“Wriothesley, you’re being obscene . . .”
He lets his mouth fully envelope your cunt; lets his tongue lathe out across your folds, flickering against your clit in a way that makes you violently jerk. The moan that you let out is muffled - one of your own (gloved, as is right and proper in society) hands has flown up to your mouth. Though he will miss the sound of your enjoyment unencumbered, he supposes it is better for privacy if you at least make an attempt.
“So you want me to stop?” He growls, the taste of your slick lingering on his tongue, honey-thick and just as sweet. To drive in the point of what you would be missing, he lets himself give your clit - the swollen nub standing to attention, as if begging him for more - a kitten lick.
“Don’t even think about it, you scoundrel,” you say, whisper-soft and gasping, and Wriothesley knows you cannot possibly fail to sense the curve of his lips against your cunt.
“As you wish,” he says. “Never let it be said that I don’t take my duties as a Duke and a gentleman seriously.”
And he returns to his task with voracious excitement.
He has done this to you before, but never in public - never with you standing, never with the threat of discovery looming over his head . . . he finds he does indeed quite enjoy the thrill, so he takes his sweet time exploring your folds with his tongue, letting himself be even wetter and messier than he’d normally be.
The sound is indeed obscene, as he delves the tip of his tongue between your folds - as he finds your pulsing entrance and toys with it, slipping just a little of the flexible muscle inside of the channel until he feels you try and clamp down on it, before he returns to the wet circling of your fluttering hole.
His nose presses directly into the softness of your mound, grinding against your clit with every slight adjustment of his head. Normally, you’d at least be able to tug on his hair as he did this (and he’s rather fond of that too - the way you do even that so neatly, so apologetically), but now you are entirely at his mercy and it is obvious from the tremble in your thigh, as if you are going to swoon to the floor at any moment.
You shift to rest more against the wall and Wriothesley takes that as an excuse to manhandle you - he takes one of your thighs and slings it over his shoulder, unbalancing you but for a moment - but giving him far better access to the spot between your legs.
Far easier, like this, for him to use thumb and forefinger to tease the lips of your labia apart and to settle his mouth around the pearl of your clit.
You jerk in surprise again, more soft muffled whimpering coming from above. He can make out a few of the words - ‘scoundrel, rake, you filthy pervert, Wriothesley Your Grace please don’t stop--’
He is not a cruel husband, so he does not.
Your clit, pulsing with need, is drawn into his mouth - and Wriothesley takes great pleasure in suckling upon it the way that one might a particularly delicious candy, his tongue lathing over and over and over. You squirm in his grip, and he imagines your face as it always is when you are close to the edge. You tremble and sweat and shake for him and Wriothesley needs you to fall apart like he needs air.
He redoubles his efforts; his other hand clenches on your inner thigh, his forefinger finding the pulsing, clenching hole of your sex. As he sucks, he gently inserts just the tip of it inside of you, and oh, you are greedy for more than his mouth--
You come with a strangled cry that is not quite caught by your glove - a clamping of your thighs around Wriothesley’s ears, and a gush of wetness that Wriothesley is more than happy to let flow into his open mouth and down his chin, to stain the collar of his starched white shirt.
When your aftershocks are over - when you are trembling not so violently, and he trusts you to stand on your own two feet, he presses a kiss to your cunt before he returns your leg to the ground.
He disentangles himself from your skirts, his knees only aching a little - nothing, really, compared to the inescapable pulse of his cock where it’s longing to be pressed hot and deep inside of you. He does not bother wiping his mouth of your release - and when you see him, his face shiny and wet with the proof of your enjoyment, you huff in embarrassment and avoid his gaze.
You’re the sweetest little thing, he thinks again fondly. Even though you had moments ago been rutting against his mouth like the most brazen and desperate creature in Teyvat . . . now, faced with the proof of what you’ve done, you’ve gone over all proper again.
Deftly and firmly, he takes your chin in his hand and presses a kiss against your mouth, making sure your own taste lingers on the soft petals of your lips. He makes sure he takes full control of it; that it is a press of his ownership of you like his seal pressing into wax on the missives he writes down in the depths of the Fortress. If only you knew just how much of him you owned in turn.
“I think,” he says, his voice thick, “I feel much improved. And you were right, sweetheart, about it being rude to leave a party so quickly. Should we return back to the ballroom?”
#writing#genshin impact posting#not sfw text#wriothesley x reader#drabble#genshin impact x reader#wriothesley smut#genshin impact smut
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inspired by this post and honestly it’s just gaz getting home from the gym all sweaty and worked up and absolutely railing you
18+, fem!reader
gaz’d sent you that photo and you’d gone absolutely insane. the way his tight shirt stretched over his chest and around his biceps, and the way his shorts showed off his muscular thighs and the smooth expanse of his strong legs.
the cheeky bastard knew what he was doing. he knew the photos he sent you, skin shining with sweat and compression shirt taut over the mounds of his chest, got you all heated. probably had you sliding your fingers into your underwear as you sat on the couch, whimpering his name while you drew circles across your pretty clit.
and when he sent you that photo, you had done exactly that— although, you were splayed out on your shared bed, fresh out of the shower. skin still dewy, you held your phone in one hand whilst the other worked itself into your pyjama shorts, sliding over your mound and down into the heat between your legs.
god, he looked so good. he always did. the way the shirt hugged his waist and pectorals, the way his shorts bunched up and his thigh muscles contracted as he bent his knees. you whined out at the continuous stream of thoughts, rubbing your fingers through your soaked folds.
you moaned his name, letting your phone drop away, your imagination good enough now. the image was burnt into your mind, etched against your retina. something you’ll think about for a long time.
two fingers pushed into the tight, wet heat of your cunt, and you gasped out his name again. a sweet, quiet gaz as you hooked and curled your fingers inside you, rutting them in and out, the heel of your hand rubbing against your puffy clit. with gaz’s name on your lips and the image of him swimming in your head, you came around your own fingers, wishing they were his cock.
gaz got home half an hour later, skin slick with sweat and compression shirt darker in colour around his pits, neck and back. he dumped his gym bag by the door and traipsed through the house, finding you sprawled out on top of your bed’s covers. you were in your pyjamas— thinning shorts and one of his shirts— yet he still found himself chubbing up beneath his shorts at the very sight of you.
you put your phone to the side and smiled at your boyfriend illuminated in the doorway.
“hi, darling,” gaz greeted sweetly, panting slightly. slowly, he untied the drawstring of his shorts and let them drop to his ankles, before kicking them away. “kept yourself busy while i’ve been gone?”
“i have, yeah. had a shower, watched some of my show,” you drawled, something sparking in the base of your tummy as gaz hooked his fingers beneath the edge of his shirt. he pulled it over his head, tossing that aside too.
his abdomen gleamed with sweat, cut abs casting shadows in the low light. a couple of beads of sweat rolled down his chest, and between the valley of his pectorals. you watched it, suddenly forgetful of what else you got up to while he was gone for the evening.
“is that right?” gaz mused, taking a couple of wide steps towards the bed. at the end, he reached forward and enclosed his hands around your ankles, rubbing the skin soothingly. he shifted his hands up your calves next, massaging the soft flesh there.
“mhm…” you hummed, body heating up. you locked eyes with your boyfriend, and you suddenly felt overwhelming hot, heart beating quickly beneath your sternum.
gaz’s eyes, all deep chocolate and rich molasses, broke from yours and trailed down the expanse of your body. each dip and curve, his pupils scanned you, slowly expanding in the low light of the bedroom. then, he let out a groan and let go of your legs, stepping back to pull his briefs down.
“you look so beautiful, baby. so bloody sweet,” he commented suddenly, one of his hands shooting down to grasp his thick cock, which bobbed up towards his abdomen, a dribble of precum rolling down the length.
you whimpered, almost embarrassed. you let a small “gaz…” slip from your lips, before he was crawling onto the bed and spreading your thighs.
usually, he’d eat you out first. it was almost routine at this point in your relationship. an amazing routine, you may add. he loved nothing more than to settle himself between your thighs and lap at the warmth of your pussy, nose pressed into you and tongue sliding against you. he’d ensure you come twice before easing the length of his cock into you.
but this time, you knew he wasn’t in the mood to wait any longer than he had too. not with the way his body heaved, breathing jagged as he ripped your fraying pyjama shorts away from you, revealing your soaked cunt to him.
he screwed his eyes shut and moaned, spreading your legs impossibly wider. he opened his eyes after a short, calculating moment, watching as slick pooled out of your clenching hole, down the curve of your arse.
“oh fuck, baby, just look at her,” he cooed, one of his hands kneading your thigh while the other pressed the pad of his thumb against your wet hole. you shivered, arching your back, but he didn’t push it in any further. he continued, “prettiest pussy. such a pretty pussy, an’ all for me.”
gaz pulled his hand away and immediately slotted himself above you, bringing his face to yours so that he could kiss you. the kiss was sloppy and uncoordinated as gaz panted into your mouth, but you licked against his tongue and kept up with the desperate movements of his lips.
you could smell him, too. sweat and musk and his cologne. maybe it was the bottom note of the good ol’ male pheromones, but your clit throbbed in tandem with your heartbeat. you whimpered into his mouth, and he pulled away, sucking a quick kiss to the curve of your jaw.
now, he ground his hard cock against your slit, rubbing up and down and knocking against your throbbing clit. you moaned, tipping your head back while gaz held your hips, holding you nice and still as he humped himself against you.
“‘m gonna give you my cock, darling,” gaz groaned, finally pulling his wet cock away from your heat, before notching the flared head at your entrance. with a gentle cant of his hips, he pushed the head inside, forcing a moan out of your lungs and your arms scrambled to grip onto his sweaty back.
“thaaaat’s it, that’s a good stretch,” gaz uttered, pushing his cock in further without giving you much room to adjust. he just kept going, smoothly feeding his cock into the tight clutch of your cunt inch by inch.
half-way inside you, he darted a hand between you to press against your clit, rubbing tight but gentle circles against it. you mewled, one hand of your own travelling down his dewy chest, feeling the warmth of his pectorals and the beating of his own heart beneath his skin.
he grunted. “taking me so well, baby. doing such a good job for me. my good girl— my best girl.” he then bottomed out with one last quick thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside you.
usually, he’d wait for you to adjust. this time round, he quickly searched your face for any signs of discomfort, before he was pulling out and thrusting all the way back in, both of his hands either side of your head now. he pressed his sweaty body against you, and started to move.
“gaz—!” you moaned, no doubt scratching lines down his back as you scrambled for purchase, his cock sending shocks to the base of your tummy, your thighs quivering around his hips. your tits bounced beneath your (his) shirt as you arched further against him, pressing your chest right up to his.
gaz’s pace was relentless— fucking into you hard and fast, cockhead slamming against the plug of your womb, drawing sounds from the cavern of your emptying lungs. you drew out shuddered breaths and long moans, the strokes of his cock deep and long-hitting. you’d feel it in the morning, definitely.
your cunt clenched around him, wet and warm and tight, sucking him in. the sounds were obscene, loud with the creaking of your bed. wet fap-fap-fap’s as gaz’s hips smacked into yours and his cock drove into your wet pussy again and again.
“you looked so good,” you told him, tone whiny as your brain began to mist over, orgasm slowly tightening inside your belly. “that photo— s’just so hot. touched myself to it.”
gaz smiled, pressing down briefly to kiss you. pulling away, he was still smiling. “aw, s’that right? got you all worked up, did i?”
you didn’t have to answer. you probably couldn’t anyway. you tried to nod, a pathetic little moan pushing out from between your parted lips, but that was it. gaz’s pace knocked you about, rendering you speechless as he hit your g-spot. hard and deep and rough.
gaz continued to pant above you, grunting and groaning with each movement of his body. if he was sore after the gym, he wasn’t showing it, as his hips maintained a brutal pace, cock still splitting your pussy open around it.
“my pretty fuckin’ girl. all mine, too,” gaz grunted, balls slapping against the curve of your arse, coarse pubic hair brushing against the top of your clit with each thrust. you mewled in response, and he cooed at you. “i know, baby. doing so well. you wanna come?”
you nodded frantically, hands smoothing up and down the slick expanse of his back. your thighs squeezed around him just as your cunt squeezed around his cock, orgasm brewing.
god, he was so hot. and he was all yours.
“gaz, gaz fuck—” you moaned, body buzzing with pleasure. the tight spot in your tummy grew and grew, your body heating up, until each purposeful slam of his cock had brought you right to the edge of release.
“gaz,” you whimpered finally.
gaz kissed you gently and, with his lips still brush in against yours, he whispered, “come for me.”
you did— cunt tightening up around his cock as the band in your belly snapped, your climax rocketing through you. you moaned, loud and pornographic, a whine of his name, as you came around his cock. your legs shook, back arched as slick dribbled out of you as his cock continued to rut in and out, undeterred.
“oh, that’s it, that’s it, sweetheart. good girl,” gaz praised you the entire you came, pace unchanging. “good girl. come all over my cock, that’s it.”
his pace was still driven by something insatiable, sparking bright behind his dark eyes like a match. he grunted, panted like something else entirely, body sweaty and warm and everything good about the aftermath of an intense workout. he’d feel this in his muscles tomorrow morning, but for now, he wasn’t worried.
instead, he was focussed on his climax. it built and built and built until he could feel the lower part of his stomach twitching and his balls drawing tight, cock jerking inside your tight cunt. he groaned, burying his face into the crook of his neck and practically humping you as he hurtled towards his release.
“fuuuuck, pretty baby, fuck—” then he moaned your name and came inside you, flooding your insides with warmth. you could almost feel it inside you while you also felt his thick cock slowly softening inside you.
“that’s a good girl…” he muttered against you, cock remaining nestled deep inside your tight cunt, warm and comfortable. just like he was, laying on top of you.
“is this my aftercare?” you joked, rubbing his back and pressing a kiss to his shoulder. you could taste the salt on your lips now.
gaz grunted, then angled his head to press a nice kiss to your cheek, nuzzling you. “oh, no. i’m not done with you yet, darling.”
#not edited x#in a mood#captainfern#kyle gaz garrick smut#sergeant kyle gaz garrick#kyle gaz garrick#gaz x female reader#cod gaz#gaz smut#gaz cod#gaz call of duty#cod smut#call of duty smut
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Tell Me The Truth
Miles is keeping secrets and you’ve finally had enough
warnings: cussing, pinch of angst, slight jealousy, pet names
“who is that?” jeff and rio had asked you.
the sight in front of you made your stomach hurt for some reason, your boyfriend, sitting isolated with some random girl nobody has ever seen before. you were already irritated with him; he had left so quickly with little to no explanation when you arrived at the party.
“i-i don’t know…”
it seems like you didn’t know anything anymore.
“should–should we go up there?” rio questionably says, “no, look, she’s leaving.” you pointed.
miles’ head swung over towards the three of you, you all quickly trying to act like you weren’t watching him. nonchalantly, you all waited as he approached you. or so you guys thought he was coming to you, instead he was making his way towards the door.
“miles!” his parents called for him.
you took it upon yourself to follow after him, swinging the door open as he had just reached the last step.
“miles!”
his pace picked up as you had gotten closer to him, he reached his apartment door, trying to shut you out but you stuck your foot in between the door.
“babe! are you okay? why would you do that?!” miles panics.
“what is going on with you?!” you slightly yell, his face finally meeting yours, “what happened to your face?!”
he had a few bruises and some cuts here and there, and his hair looked a hot mess.
“nothing.” he mutters, walking into the apartment.
you follow behind him, shutting the door behind you before following him into the bathroom. he grabbed the first aid kit from underneath the sink, and you snatch it out his hand, urging for him to sit down. he jumped up on the counter and you stood in between his legs, beginning on his face.
“who was that girl?” you asked after a few moments of silence.
“never took you as the jealous type, baby.” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around your waist.
“who is she, miles?”
his smile fades and he drops his hands from your waist when he realized you weren’t amused.
“just somebody i used to know. i haven’t seen her in a minute, she was just dropping by.”
you let out a deep sigh, finishing up his face by applying ointment to it before putting everything in the first aid kit and placing it on the bathroom counter. you removed yourself from in between his legs and began to walk away.
“wait! where are you going? what's wrong?” he followed after you.
you turn around to face him, “i want you to stop lying to me.” you sighed, “once you're ready to tell me the truth, you know where to find me.”
you stood there for a moment. waiting there for him to say something, anything! but nothing. you shook your head, walking over towards the door.
“wait.” he says as soon as your hand is on the doorknob, “this is kinda hard to explain…”
you twist the knob and open the door.
“i’m spider-man!” he slightly yelled.
you shut the door back, hand still on the knob trying to process what he had just said.
“funny, miles.” you sarcastically say, turning to face him again, “you get your ass kicked and claim to be spider-man! it's okay t-"
“no! no, no, i’m not joking!” he says, unzipping his jacket to reveal the black suit that was beneath. very similar looking to the one you’d seen all over social media when people posted spider-man sightings.
“where’d you get that?”
“i made it.” he slightly smiled, “see, look.” he shoots webs, causing you to jump a little bit.
you stood there with your eyes shut for a second, just to make sure you weren’t dreaming. okay, your boyfriend is spider-man. your boyfriend is spider-man.
“wha-when? how? how long?” you approached him, placing your hand on the black suit.
“about a year now.”
“a year?!” you remove your hand, “why are you just now telling me?”
“i didn’t want you to look at me differently.” he shook his head, “i was afraid you wouldn’t love me the same.” his shoulders dropped.
“miles.” you let out a laugh of disbelief, “miles. babe, there’s nothing that could change the way i feel about you, i will always love you. spider-man or not.”
miles didn’t say anything, all he did was bring you into a big hug. you hugged him back, pulling him in as much as possible.
“now explain to me who this girl is once again.” you say into the hug.
miles laughs, pulling out of the hug, “her names gwen. uh, ghost-spider.”
“so she’s spider-woman? there’s multiple of you?”
“yeah, it’s kinda a long story.” he scratched the back of his neck, “any other questions?” he laughs.
“does this mean you’ll take me flying? or whatever it is that you do.”
#miles morales#miles morales x reader#miles morales x you#spiderverse x reader#spiderman into the spiderverse
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Defending. (x.t)
PART ONE OF TWO
Pairing: Xavier Thorpe x Girlfriend!Reader
Summary: wednesday tells you about her suspicions about xavier but you come to his defense and are determined to find proof to prove her wrong
Warnings: mentions of making a small cut, very little like a drop of blood, hydes? (those ugly mfs) NOT PROOFREAD
a/n: this is going to be in two parts, but part two will be posted late 12/1 or early 12/2 depending on when i finish writing it! it's basically a smut fic for part two which is why i decided to split it up in case people are not comfortable with it!
masterlist - part two
“Now, this is too far,” you said to Wednesday as she told you about her suspicions about Xavier being the monster.
“All the evidence points to him.”
“Wednesday, it’s not him.”
“You’re only saying that because you’re in a relationship with him,” the girl argued back with her.
“No shit, Wednesday. I know him enough to know he’s not. You think I wouldn’t notice by now if he were going around town killing people?”
“You’re letting this blind your judgment,” Wednesday stated.
“NEWS FLASH WEDNESDAY HE’S NOT THE HYDE! WOULD IT KILL YOU THINK FOR ANYONE BUT YOURSELF?!” you yelled at the girl who just raised her eyebrows back at you.
“What are you going to do when you find out he is?”
“Nothing,” you answered softly you could feel a headache coming from yelling, “There’s nothing to find out.” You walked back inside from the balcony and exited the room before you felt like destroying anything, and Enid would get mad at the mess later.
You wandered around the school before you came upon the statute of Edgar Allen Poe. You sat down near the statute wanting to clear your mind for a second before you looked up and realized the mark beneath the book he was holding. You tried to recall what your mom would always tell you as a kid about the Nightshade Society.
“He was notorious for his riddles. For it was not one alone, but each line was individual. One to remember is, ‘The answer will give a sharp cracking sound,’ that will help you once you find it,” was something she always mentioned when she talked about Nevermore.
“A sharp cracking sound,” you repeated as you stood from your spot and it clicked, or more so snapped into place. You raised your right arm and snapped two times. “Thank you, Nightshade Society.”
You walked down the staircase into the dimly lit library. The portraits that hung on the wall of old members caught your eye as you looked about the room. At the end of the portraits you find your parents, they tell you to make a name for yourself, but how could you live up to them?
“You put that bag over my head, I will choke you with that very rope in your hands,” you warned the people who stood behind you as you looked for your mom’s diary knowing that would be the only thing you could find answers in. “You should know to not mess with a witch with heightened senses.”
“Oh, come on, Y/n, we were just trying to have fun,” Kent joked causing the other to mutter in agreement.
“I WASN’T GOING TO DO ANYTHING I SWEAR,” Xavier yelped once he notice it was you and threw the bag in his hands to Ajax.
“Someone’s in the dog house tonight…” Yoko teased. Kent and a couple of the others gave a couple howls joining in the joke.
“You know Xavier you could’ve told me about this,” you said as you finally found your mother’s diary.
“Babe, if I could, I would’ve-”
“He’s sworn to secrecy,” Bianca pointed out as she gave you a dirty look when you walked to a desk with the diary in your arms.
You pulled it out to see she sealed it with magic though not any kind of magic, blood magic. “My family was a part of the Nightshades long before you, although I thought it to be disbanded.”
“Yeah, the group kind of lost its charter 30 years ago after some normie kid died,” Xavier explained which answered your thoughts as he walked up to you noticing that you were looking for something.
“But we have a lot of wealthy alumni, so Weems looks the other way as long as nobody makes any waves,” Yoko added on.
“What are you looking for anyways?” Xavier questioned you.
“If you’re trying to open your mom’s diary, you can’t,” Bianca told you cockingly.
“Maybe you can’t,” you retorted just when you noticed a letter opener sitting at the corner of the table.
You reached over and grabbed it seeing that it had a sharp edge. You noticed from your peripheral vision that the group was crowding around you to see what you were doing. Xavier was right next to you with his attention on the knife you held in your hand. You lifted your right hand over the book and took the knife to your palm just before it touched your skin you heard shouts from around the room.
“Y/N!”
“Woah, girl, no need to prove a point.”
“No need for bloodshed-”
“What are you doing?!”
“No, no, no, no, absolutely not,” you heard Xavier say as he tried to grab for the knife, but it was too late. “Oh my god, only you. Literally, you’re the only one who would do this.”
You sliced the inside of your palm and allowed for the knife to drop down onto the table as you felt the sting in your palm. You closed your fist and put it directly above the lock on the book. You felt the blood sweep down near the bottom of your fist before it dropped down into the lock.
“Blood magic?” Yoko asked in amazement when she saw the lock unlatch and you opened to the front page that held your mom’s portrait along with her signature.
“Only the very best for mother dearest,” you remark sarcastically.
“That explains a lot!” Kent said from behind as Xavier looked around for a first aid kit. “Bianca was trying to open that months ago and nothing would work!” right as the words left his mouth, Bianca smacked him in the back of the head causing him to groan in pain, “Well, ow.”
When Xavier finally found a first aid kit that looked like it could be decades old, he went back to your side and held out his palm to you. Putting your sliced palm in his hand without him even having to ask you.
“I couldn’t find any actual alcohol to disinfect it, so vodka will have to do,” he unscrewed the bottle with one hand and looked back into your eyes before you gave him a slight nod telling him it was okay for him to do it. “This might sting.”
“Oh shit, I can’t watch,” Ajax gagged as the vodka was poured onto your palm and the blood washed away with it.
“Makes the both of us,” another member said.
“Stop being babies, people would think you’re the one with the cut palm,” you told them off as taking in the pain with no reaction. “At least I have a hot doctor patching me up,” you smirked.
“Only for you,” Xavier muttered as he focused on wrapping the bandage around your hand. At this point, almost all the members already left not wanting to see what you and Xavier get up to.
“Thanks, babe,” giving him a kiss on the cheek before returning your attention back to your mother’s diary.
“What was so important that you have to look into your mom’s diary?” he asked you. “You’re looking for answers, but for what?”
“Any information about hydes.”
“That’s the monster, Wednesday was talking about right?”
“The same one she believes you to be, yes.” you look up from the diary to see his confused expression.
“Wait, me?” he wondered aloud.
“I told her it wasn’t you though, but that girl is the most stubborn person I have ever met,” you informed him taking one of his hands in your non-injured one to give it a tight squeeze in reassurance. “You have to be careful, I know you’re not the Hyde, but she is going to do everything she can to prove her point.”
“I love you.” he blurted out to you. “You could’ve easily believed her, but you didn’t.”
“I know you, Xavier. There’s no damn way in hell, I’m going to let you be falsely accused for something you so obviously are not,” you stated. “And, I love you, that’s why I’m trying to see if my mother knew anything about Hydes during her time here,” you smiled at him.
You turned to put the diary back onto the desk as you hurriedly flipped through the pages scanning for any kind of information on the damn monster. You were about to turn to another page just before you noticed a name you’ve heard of before. Francois Sylvanne. Xavier moved to stand behind you leaning over your shoulder to read the diary as well. He placed his hands on your hips to steady himself causing you to lean back into him.
“Seems like Wednesday’s little boy toy just got way more interesting,” you pointed to the name on the page for Xavier to read.
“Who is she?”
“His mother. The same one he goes to therapy for, I heard she died a while back, and apparently the sheriff isn’t only bad at his job but bad at parenting too,” you explained as you read more of your mom’s writing.
There’s something about this girl. She keeps to herself. Quiet. Distance. Truly an Outcast. I have a feeling something is going on with her or at least something will. I’m going to keep a close eye on her, but she is graduating this year.
“Weird, your mom always has good intuition, I wonder if she’s right about this one too,” Xavier said after he read your mother’s entry.
You flipped through more pages of the book and found nothing. You looked at every line on the pages, and your mother never mentioned her once again. It wasn’t until you got to the last page of the diary to see a quite messier version of your mother’s writing.
THAT GIRL IS A HYDE. FRANCOIS IS A HYDE. HIDDEN AWAY WITH A NORMIE IN THE TOWN.
“No,” you gaped as you turned to see nothing more and reached the end of the book.
“Do you think Tyler’s the Hyde?” he whispered into your ear.
“It’s the only way. It makes sense too,” you claimed, “But the question is why?”
#xavier thorpe#xavier thorpe x reader#wednesday#wednesday series#wednesday netflix#wednesday addams#xavier thorpe fluff#xavier x you#xavier thorpe x you#xavier x reader#netflix#percy hynes white#xavier thorpe angst#bianca barclay#fanfic#witch
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supplicate (nsfw!)
18+ MDNI!
Trafalgar Law x afab!reader
cw: mild brat taming, teasing, edging, snarky law, piv sex, creampie
an: this one kinda went overboard and was not meant to be this long. it was supposed to be two drabbles for both zoro and law but i kinda got carried away. i'll post them separately or whatever idk.
tagging: @bby-deerling @themushroomofdeath @risenwrites @kaizokuniichan @strawheart-pirate
At this rate you were going to kill him.
He sighs and runs a hand through his hair as his jeans tighten again. You’d been at it all day – touching and teasing him every chance you get. Running your fingers down his arm when you bring him coffee and lingering far longer than you usually do before departing with a small smirk across your lips, not-so-subtly unzipping your boiler suit just enough for him to get a glance of the soft flesh that lies beneath when you cross paths throughout the day’s work, and he doesn’t miss the sultry, half lidded gaze that seems to follow wherever he goes.
Must be some kind of cruel joke, he thinks. Something you and Ikkaku had conspired together to conjure just to drive him up the wall. Law wasn’t keen on any of the crew knowing of your shared… situation, though considering the fondness you have of your crewmate, he should’ve known it was inevitable. And usually, he pays it no mind – so long as he isn’t bothered by any unwelcome, irritating comments or jabs.
But today it eats at him, riles him until your very image is superimposed onto the backs of his eyelids. As much as it pains Law to admit – your stubborn attempt at teasing him had worked, and probably much more than you even knew. Of course, he could simply take care of the ever growing, insistent need for you right now – right here in his office, and without you. He considers it for a moment as he leans back in his chair. There's poetic irony in the thought, and he chuckles selfishly to himself imagining the look on your face when he doesn’t give what you think you’ve won.
Though why deny himself the sweetened privilege of correcting your impish behavior? You’ve earned it at this point, a victory certainly – though perhaps not quite the prize you seek. Law’s mind reels with possibility, bringing him to a point of distraction that leaves him unable to focus on his own tasks. He wants to teach you a lesson, wants to hear you beg, whine, writhe beneath him, pleading for release that he plans on withholding until your absolute limit.
The way his cock throbs painfully against his thigh gives him an answer that he can’t ignore, and without a second – more rational – thought, utters a near-silent “Room. Shambles.”
Suddenly it doesn’t matter where you were or what you were doing. And Law isn’t surprised when you appear before him looking smug and as expectant as ever.
“Took you long enough,” You begin, the coy edge to your voice cutting through the silence that had been his prison for the past few hours. “Thought maybe-”
Law slides backwards away from his desk and cuts you off with a snap of his fingers – a sure signal for you to keep your mouth shut. “Strip, and make it quick.” The way you shiver from his words alone does not go unnoticed, lips twitching upward at just how easy it is to make you come apart from him.
Spurned onward by both his demeanor and his obvious predisposition, you hastily peel your layers off and leave them in a heap around your feet and step toward him. Law leans back and places his elbows on either arm of his chair. Seems like you’re going to have to work for it.
He only assists you with a slight raise of his hips when you move to free his cock from its confines and allows you to pull his jeans and underwear down as you see fit to do. Instinctively you lean down with means to wrap your lips around him, but Law grabs you by the forearm and clicks his teeth – twisting you around to settle into his lap.
Law reaches down to the backs of your thighs, pulling you into a position that aligns himself near perfectly with you, and pressing your back to the edge of the wooden desk. You gasp when he glides his length along your slick folds, an excited half-mewl that lets him know that you’re exactly where he wants you to be. He delights in the sight of you trying in vain to roll your hips for any sort of friction, but his hold on you is too heavy and the attempts get you nowhere. “Law – come on!”
At your frustrated plea, Law tilts his head forward to peer at you with a knowing smirk on his lips. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be talking,” He purrs smoothly, breathing hot upon your neck. “Let alone making demands.”
He ruts his hips slowly – painfully – against you. Whines befall your lips as he lazily slides his cock up and down your pussy, making sure to press just a little harder against your clit. Law knows what makes you tick, having analyzed and researched each reaction to his ministries over the years at sea. He knows just how to make you cry out in limited bliss, how to inch you right to the precipice of paradise – only to whisk it away at the blink of an eye.
Why should you get away so easily?
Still tight within his grip, you’re at his will. Each stroke of him against your walls, feeling every throb of his cock within you leaves you a whiny, needy mess. The frustration turned ecstasy in your gaze cracks his guise further, though not enough to unmask him – yet.
He’d never admit it at a time like this, but the way you sound, the way you feel, the way your expressions twist and curve at his teasing – he needs you like a man needs food. And deciding that you’ve had your fill of his game is a good enough excuse to up the ante.
Law guides himself to your entrance, and using the abundance of slick that glistens along his flesh, eases you onto him. You hiss out a moan as he bottoms out, and a moment later he’s bouncing you up and down his cock, pace still unhurried and languid.
It's agony, sweet and unsated passion that you’re not being given despite your best attempts goading both now and throughout the day. Your laments fall on deaf ears as Law continues his tortuous campaign, pulling you down onto him until your hips are flush together, letting the head of his cock twitch against the spongy spot that makes your eyes roll back in your head. You’re desperate, the need for him begins to outweigh your tolerance of his little game – so you do the one thing that you know will make him crumble.
You reach out for him, pressing a hand to his cheek to lead him into a tender kiss. Law’s eyes widen in surprise, but cannot help to fall into your trick. He closes them and leans into you, deepening the lip lock and groaning in satisfaction. You slip your tongue between his lips and the grip on you loosens enough to allow you to more freely grind on him.
It takes Law a moment to come to his senses, too lost in kiss and affection to notice that you’d taken control. He breaks the gesture with a growl and a feral grin to match, and that's all the warning you get before he stands up from the chair and folds you backward onto the surface of the desk. Papers crease and books shift as he presses your thighs up to your chest, his cock drilling into your core as fast and as hard as he can give you.
“So fucking needy,” Law taunts, hovering his head just out of your reach. “Look at you. You’re desperate. Drooling for the thing only I can give you, isn’t that right?” He follows up the words with a smack to your thigh and a low chuckle.
So much do you want to speak, though words fail you again and again. You’ve been reduced to nods and wails of pleasure, and Law is living for it.
He brings you to the edge so many times, and only a handful does he allow you to leap. Law’s stamina doesn’t give, and just when you think he’s close he stalls to a near stop – leaving you breathless and panting and giving you some respite before slamming his hips back into yours until the sound of skin against skin echo throughout his cabin once more. “Law, I can’t–” You wearily exclaim, tears pecking at your eyes beyond the hazy, fucked-out gaze you’re giving him. “It’s too much, I can’t…”
“Of course you can,” Law directs from above you. He clasps your jaw with one of his hands, lithe fingers grasping and forcing your face toward his. “You’ll take everything I have to give you since you’re being so good for me now, won’t you?”
The familiar tug from low in your belly pulls once more at his words, and in an instant you’re cumming again around his cock again. His name falls from your tongue like it's the only word in your vocabulary, and it sends his mind reeling. Law’s words eventually deceive him, and soon enough he’s digging his nails into your thigh and sighing into your neck as he fills you to the brim with his own cum.
The moment stalls, and for a moment Law looks at you, the hand nearest to your face coming to rest gently upon your cheek. You offer him a smile, and it makes his heart skip a beat. It always does. Law leans down to press a soft kiss to your forehead, and trailing an even softer one to your lips. It isn’t something he says often, what he’s saying to you now. The simple phrase is a whisper on his tongue, and made only for your ears – it's one you return just as quietly, though almost too eagerly.
After all, you do love him.
#one piece x y/n#one piece x reader#trafalgar law x reader#trafalgar law smut#trafalgar d law x reader#law x reader#law sm#law smut#op imagines#lawrence!
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Welcome to the Grand Opening of Freddy Fazbears Balloon Circus!
After an array of previous undisclosed incidents at the Mega Pizzaplex, ending with the sudden collapsing of the building due to an unexpected earthquake, Fazbear Enterprise has demolished the old mall and rebuilt a new and improved carnival on the property!
But just because the attractions above ground have been overhauled, doesn't mean the secrets beneath the surface have magically disappeared.
Reblogs appreciated!
MANY more rambles about this AU under the cut:
would much appreciate if you read them, but there's no obligations!
EVERYTHING HERE IS SUBJECT TO CHANGE!!
This AU has just been pieced together by my insane ramblings to my friend over the past few days, so everything in it's early stages of development, and this post is being written VERY late while I'm very sleep deprived and just trying to finish it in time to schedule it! If some things are a bit weird or inconsistent then please keep that in mind!
Thank you! :D
Gregory, Vanessa, and Freddy all return to the now renovated lot where the Pizzaplex once stood, having been called back two years after their last failed visit too save a long lost friend, too repair their old creation known at the M.X.E.S after it was suddenly and unexplainably shut down again.
Upon entering the new-ish carnival, they'll quickly find it hard to safely look for the entrance to the layers below as the friendly mascot suits above chase after them for being unwanted guests.
Above ground, they're hunted by the mascots- new suits built for both performers and endoskeletons to be able to wear.
This night, controlled by corrupted endoskeletons, they've been ordered to chase after the intruders by someone lurking below the carnivals ground. As well as finding the littler animatronics, known as Balloon Babies, to be quite the inconvenience.
Below ground, they're hunted by the old Glamrocks, still functional after all this time, and now under a new threats command that's also trying to keep the 3 star family from reaching M.X.E.S; Vannie. Aka, Cassie. Still here in the ruins of it all, waiting for the her perfect moment to lure the family back in and get her revenge for what they did to her all those years ago.
The mascots are the new faces of the Freddy Fazbears Balloon Circus, their costumes built to be worn by both endoskeletons and actors- but in a safer way than the springlock suits.
The actors are used during the day for greeting and interacting with guests, putting on performances, etc etc. While the endoskeletons are used at night as a replacement for security guards and STAFF bots, kindly, but forcefully, escorting any intruders off the premises.
Under Vannie's control they, of course, are much less kind and gentle with how they "escort" the 3 star fam out of the carnival.
Balloon Babies are smaller, almost Helpy-like animatronics in appearance, built to keep lost and lonely children happy and entertained while waiting for their guardian to arrive. They can't speak, but they can play song, games, sound effects, blow up balloons with their fingertips, etc etc.
They found Gregory after he had been forcefully split up from Vanessa and Freddy by the mascots, and upon the family reuniting, the Balloon Babies more annoying feature kicked in:
The Emergency Alert System.
Whenever a child they are playing with is approached by an odd looking adult or other figure that seems like they could be a potential threat to the child's safety, whether that be a kidnapper, unfit guardian, bully, etc. the Balloon Babies will use their emergency alert system to call one of the mascots over and deal with the threat, kindly guiding the threat away and bringing the kid to a safer area away from potential danger where they can stay with staff until a proper guardian arrives.
The Balloon Babies had decided in their time with Gregory that Vanessa and Freddy were unfit guardians for leaving Gregory scared and alone this late at night, and any time Vanessa and/or Freddy is nearby, their alert system will sound off and call a mascot to their location.
The problem, other than the obvious, is that the Balloon Babies are fixated on Gregory. They will always be attracted to him and find their way back to him no matter what, with the only exception being when he's under ground.
Which means that, until they can find a way to deactivate or otherwise get rid of these guys, Gregory is forced to be split up from Vanessa and Freddy above ground, and regroup underground.
The only exception is Goldie, a soft yellow version of the Freddy Balloon Baby that doesn't follow the others.
Goldie is the only one of the Balloon Babies that can go underground, Vannie specifically programming him to be able to do so. He follows Vannie around and provides her with much needed company, being her only real friend down here besides Roxy.
Later on, Gregory will find Goldie, but instead of calling for the mascots whenever Vanessa is near, he'll send out a signal to distract the other Balloon Babies away from Gregory so they won't call for the mascots or overwhelm him. Goldie can tell that Vanessa and Freddy are fit guardians that love Gregory very much, and can also tell that they're afraid of the mascots, though he can't compute why- it's his job to make sure that kids and their families are safe, so he's doing his best to ensure their safety however he can.
Later on, Vannie will come looking for her friend after a long period of time of him being away and find him with the 3 star family, causing more conflict between the two parties that Goldie can't understand- Cassie and Gregory are supposed to be friends, aren't they? That's what Cassie said. Friends aren't supposed to fight each other, they're supposed to protect each other.
That's what Goldie believes, at least.
Random trivia;
-Gregory, Freddy, and Vanessa have been living together for about 3 years now. 1 year by the time of Ruin, and 2 years after the fact leading up to Balloon Circus.
-Cassie has been gaslit into thinking that all the stuff Dr. Rabbit did was actually Gregory himself with no outside influence, only fueling her want for revenge, not only for the elevator incident, but everyone he hurt. This will affect Gregory greatly(he has not 100% recovered and this Does Not Help).
-Cassie still doesn't fully trust the Mimic, despite being under its influence. She let the M.X.E.S stay up after the 3 star family put it back up after Ruin despite Mimic's demands for her to shut it down again, assuring him it was "part of her plan". She wasn't entirely lying, shutting down the M.X.E.S was how she wanted to lure the family back, but she'd be lying if she said it wasn't also partially because she wanted to keep "that old endo" sealed away. He's not completely free from fault either.
-Gregory and Vanessa both have chips implanted in their heads, it's how Dr. Rabbit and Vanny took over way back when. Those same chips gave them VR vision, but the chips have since been "domesticated" and can't go full VR mode anymore. Despite this fact, they do still have a few side effects of the VR vision, such as some walls and objects simply not existing, despite them looking perfectly normal and real. They can phase through them without trouble, and this helps them navigate the Balloon Circus, becauseeeeeee;
-Cassie was there during the construction of the circus and set up VR walls in certain spaces to help her hide out and travel around undetected, even during the day.
The 3 star family can also use these now as an easier way of navigating through the circus, but also as a way to hide from the mascots and even sometimes the Balloon Babies.
-The entrance to the underground levels is behind a VR wall, but it's one set up by the construction workers so the patrons wouldn't notice it. The reason an intentional opening is there is because the new entrance is now used as a dumping ground for stuff from random items from the ruins of the Pizzaplex to unused stuff from the circus to anything the employees with access to the area want to throw in there. It's how the ruined Glamrocks ended up there.
-The Glamrocks were being slowly reintroduced to the public, the biggest attraction so far being 'Chica of the Sea', a tent for the underwater hologram show of a prerendered mermaid Glamrock Chica that would swim around, wave at guests, and do a few preset moves that employees could turn on whenever.
There's hints of them wanting to reintroduce the others as well that haven't been shown off to the public yet, with the new roles being;
Glam Freddy and Bonnie are the co-ringmasters of the main tent where the mascots performances are held, making sure everything runs smoothly.
Roxanne is the mascots and glamrocks make up artist, as well as offering to do make up/face paint for any patrons that came by her tent (for a price, of course).
And Monty would roam around the circus grounds as a strongman showing off his incredible strength. He also has a tent for this, but he was mostly supposed to roam around and sometimes try and make people swing by his tent, mostly so they would buy his merch.
-Chica being the first to be reintroduced has an effect on her character below ground, with her hearing the news and trying her best to dress herself up in whatever scraps she could find to look like her mermaid counterpart, practicing her singing and dancing despite her condition so she could prove that she could be just as good as the hologram if she just got a few repairs.
-Roxanne is headless, having lost her head in her tussle with the Mimic. But she still has control of both her body and head, carrying around her decapitated head in her arms.
-Vannie/Cassie cares about Goldie soso much that's her new bestie<33 Friendship ended with Gregory, Goldie is new best friend<3 (I'm so sorry Gregory)
-Vannie is also known as Vengeful Vannie, but usually shortened to just 'Vannie'. A callback to the "Vengeful Spirit" aka Cassidy, because I think the parallels between the two are neat<3 (THIS MEANS NOTHING LORE WISE IT'S JUST A NAMING THING.)
-Some of the stuff at Balloon Circus was bought from the carnival mentioned to be across the street from the Pizzaplex in the TFTPP epilogues, and rebranded to fit with the new Fazbear theming
I wanna talk more about these guys later- not sure what else exactly to do with them, but if anybody has any questions then feel free to send 'em to my inbox! I'll be more than happy to reply to the best of my abilities<3
#my art#Chipillustrates#fnaf#fnaf fanart#fnaf AU#fnaf Balloon Circus#Fnaf Welcome to Balloon Circus#Fnaf Freddy#Fnaf Chica#Fnaf Bonnie#Fnaf Foxy#Fnaf Cassie#Fnaf Vanny#Fnaf Vannie#Fnaf Vanessa#Fnaf Gregory#Fnaf Glamrock Freddy#Five nights at Freddys#Five nights at Freddys AU#Fnaf 3 star family#3 star family#Five nights at Freddys fanart#Five nights at Freddy's#put in a lot of silly little details with the 3 star fam + a few with Cassie<3 I had fun with these goobs#also Gregory and Cassie are about 14 here and Vanessa is around 24#not super important but I just felt like calling it out
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I’ll wipe those tears til’ they stop falling.
or, they help you fight your demons, featuring: bofurin + jo togame
a/n: this was originally an ask, but I accidentally lost the original ask (I’m so sorry about that love!) and had to create a separate post. writing these actually gave me a sense of comfort as a long-time survivor of depression/self harm, and i hope it can give you all some comfort too if you’ve ever suffered from that <3
c/w: fairly heavy themes, such as undertones of depression/anxiety/self harm/relapse/bullying/suicidal thoughts/social anxiety (these aren’t explored too deeply, but they are there), hurt/comfort, fluff, soft!boys, protective!boys, established relationships, some language, hugs, self-harm scars, minor bad thoughts, togame’s has a very very little bit of spice in it
you are so strong and beautiful; keep holding on darling <3.
“…I just don’t know if I can take it anymore, ume.” you sniffed, eyes glistening with tears that you desperately wished not to shed. “I don’t even know what’s wrong with me… I thought I was past all this.”
you had been keeping your distance from your boyfriend for a few weeks now; your conversations with him had grown infrequent due to your lack of energy. your own mind had been sapping it from you, filling your chest with a sense of isolation and hollowness as it forced you to push everyone away.
you didn’t understand why umemiya wasn’t angry at you, or why his eyes still glowed with ever-deepening adoration — he was sitting with you as if no time had ever passed, as if you hadn’t nearly cut him from your life.
umemiya’s hand was large and warm around yours, his long fingers slipped comfortably between the gaps of your own. he listened to you talk with a soft smile on his face; despite the turmoil rioting within you, the gentle expression still made your stomach erupt into butterflies.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you,” umemiya finally murmured, voice softer than you’d ever heard it before. “feeling emotions is proof that you’re alive. and it’s okay to not be okay, you know? but…”
umemiya used the leverage of his grip on your hand to pull you closer to him, until you had to shuffle into his lap just to avoid crashing into him. his body was warm beneath and against yours, and when he pressed your head comfortably into his chest with his other hand, his heartbeat seemed to resonate with and control your own.
“…when things start to get hard, don’t try to tackle them all alone. if you find that your strength is wavering, come to me. I’ll be your strength instead.”
those tears that you tried so desperately to keep at bay slipped out of your eyes like slick oil, sliding down the curve of your chin and plopping onto the front of umemiya’s shirt. your heart was shaky in your chest, each beat feeling constricted with the weight of intense emotions.
you weren’t even sure which one took the most precedent — happiness, shame, love, relief, frustration… they were all rampaging inside your chest, threatening to tear you apart at the seams.
god, you didn’t want to cry anymore.
“if you need to cry, don’t hold it back. I’ll stay with you — forever and ever, okay?”
well, as long as umemiya was there, maybe it was okay to cry for a while longer.
there was an itch beneath your skin; one that was insistent and familiar. the voices around you grated in your ears, rousing up static within your mind. your breath rattled in your lungs as you tried to suck down air as inconspicuously as possible. when had it become so stuffy in here…?
pothos was the group hangout — one that you had become comfortable and familiar with. any other day, the clamor within it would have soothed you; the clinking of silverware, the harmony of your friends’ voices melding together, kotoha calling out orders or yelling at your booth to settle down.
but right now, it felt like too much — your skin was going to peel off. before you could stop yourself, you brought your hand up to your wrist. pain bloomed along your skin as you dug crescents into the tender flesh. the pain morphed into an anchor, one that could keep you from being tossed around by the tumultuous waves.
but all too soon, that anchor was ripped from you — by none other than sakura, who grabbed your wrist to halt your movements.
you fixed him with a look of shock — you were unable to read his eyes; you couldn’t see any anger, or disappointment, or shock. they were brimming with an emotion that you couldn’t identify.
sakura remained silent as he pulled your hand towards his body, and you watched as he guided it down to his own wrist.
“if you need to do that, do it to me instead.” sakura whispered, and your heart dropped in your chest. what was he saying? you couldn’t hurt sakura that way!
“but I c-couldn’t hurt you—” you started with a stutter, only for sakura to stop you by tightening his fingers ever so slightly around your wrist. that emotion in his eyes deepened even further, and his voice shook when he murmured,
“then you understand why I can’t watch you do it to yourself.”
your heart skipped a beat. ah, that’s what that emotion was. deep, unearthed concern, born from feelings so intense that they could barely be contained. sakura couldn’t stand to watch you hurt yourself, because simply watching you do it had the same effect as you digging your nails into his very heart.
“I won’t do it anymore.” you promised in a whisper, rocked to your own core by how sincere you were about the sentiment. you didn’t need to use pain as an anchor anymore — because you had sakura, and he was the strongest anchor you could ever ask for.
“suo is dating her? but why?”
“I don’t know — she’s just so… plain, isn’t she?”
“I bet he lost a bet or something!”
their whispers echoed in your brain even long after they’d been uttered, slithering into the cracks of your subconscious and nesting there, until, at some point, you had begun to believe them.
why would suo choose you? out of everyone he could have, why would he choose the plainest girl in the town? you didn’t have any outstanding features, and your body was just on the low end of average — and suo was handsome, charming, talented and strong.
you used to believe that you had a place next to him, but now… now you weren’t so sure.
“you seem rather distracted, love; is something on your mind?” suo’s voice was like a soothing balm to your nerves, warm and familiar — but it struck a chord of pain in your chest, too, because it was just another reminder of how out of your league he was.
you swallowed thickly, those words once again bouncing around your skull. plain, average, untalented, dumb…
“suo, do you regret dating me?” you asked, choked up. you weren’t sure why you decided to phrase it that way; it just seemed to make the most sense that way.
suo fell silent. you didn’t dare raise your eyes to meet his — you couldn’t bare to see what may be within them. salty tears stung in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall; once you’d heard suo’s answer, you’d consider doing so. but until then, you would keep them contained.
there was the softest shuffle of movement, and in the next instant, you were letting out a small yelp as a body plopped down on the tatami mat behind you, and strong arms snaked around your waist.
the strong scent of patchouli invaded your nose and soft threads tickled your collarbone when suo hooked his head over your shoulder. suo was warm, enveloping your entire body from behind and filling you with a sense of safety.
“the only thing I regret,” suo started softly, his voice deep and reverent. “is not meeting you sooner.”
and suo’s voice was raw with such sincere emotion that the few words he’d uttered held more impact on your heart than a million reassurances.
your tears fell in unbidden rivulets from your eyes, but they were weighed down by pure happiness.
“… I swear, one of these days I really am going to back kick him into a different dimension…”
you wanted to pay attention to what your boyfriend was saying; really, you did. but your mind was so occupied by other thoughts — or, more accurately, occupied with keeping out other thoughts.
the urges had been more frequent, lately. it wasn’t as though anything was going wrong in your life; your grades were spectacular, you were surrounded by warm friends, and you were dating one of the best people on earth — yet, those thoughts and those feelings were still creeping in.
that drawer you had closed so long ago resonated with enticing whispers, the tiny objects located within beckoning you to pick them up once more.
come back to us… we’re your true friends. don’t you remember how much we helped you? how free you felt with us?
you shivered. even when you weren’t in your room, even when you couldn’t see the door of that drawer, you could still hear them.
“…babe? are you okay?” you blinked back to reality at the sound of hiragi’s voice calling out to you — it was then that you’d realized you had stopped in your tracks, and hiragi was standing in front of you, one large hand wrapped around your wrist and face painted with an expression of worry. how long had he been calling out to you?
“I-I’m sorry, what were you saying, hiragi?” you asked, almost robotically. those whispers had shirked into the shadows of your mind, but you could still hear them hissing at you.
hiragi studied you for a long moment, his eyes shaded with something you couldn’t put your finger on.
“the urges have come back, haven’t they?” hiragi asked suddenly. his voice held no judgement, anger, or sadness, and his eyes remained fixed in yours while he stroked the skin of your held wrist with his thumb. the scars, you realized belatedly. you swallowed thickly before nodding, tears gathering in your eyes.
you wished you could say no — you wished you could tell hiragi that you’d completely forgotten about the blades in your drawer; or better yet, that you’d thrown them in the trash rather than stowing them away out of sight.
but you couldn’t.
hiragi sighed softly and glanced down at your hand. after a moment, he slid his hand from your wrist to your hand, and with gentle fingers, he pried it open until it was facing palm up. he kept it in his grip as he used his free hand to remove his necklace from his neck.
he placed the jewelry into your palm, the metal warm from the heat of his chest. your eyes widened. he never took that off.
when hiragi was sure you had a firm hold on the necklace, he dropped your hand and brought both of his up to cradle your face. he leaned in and pressed his lips to your forehead in a sweet, chaste kiss.
“when those urges come, grab onto that necklace. use it as a reminder that I love you, and even when I’m not there, I’m still with you.”
hiragi’s breath was warm against your forehead, and you could feel the slide of his lips across the skin as he spoke. the depth of his words wrapped around you like the softest, comfiest blanket, and as hiragi gathered you into his arms to hold you tight, you realized that the whispers were silent.
you’d been with togame for a couple of months now — and you couldn’t be happier. he was an unbelievable package; sweet and loving, tall, romantic, considerate, and attractive to an extent that was almost unfair. but best of all, he let the relationship unfold at your pace.
there was no rush from him; whether it was kissing or sharing deep secrets, he let you do it on your own time. it was a monumental relief, especially in the physical aspect.
because you were hiding something from togame — something you didn’t know if you’d ever be able to show him.
your scars.
buried deep into your wrists, straight and jagged, crisscrossing and bumping — they were ugly, mars against the smooth expanse of the rest of your arm.
you had long since put down the knife. It had been over a year since you last cut, and as of late, you were no longer struggling with the urges of relapse. you had togame to thank for that.
it made you feel horrible. togame never hid anything from you — he’d even told you about the cruel things he’d done, about how he used to treat people. how much he’d hated himself then. he offered himself up as an open book for you to read any time you pleased.
and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to show him. you couldn’t bear the thought of him knowing who you used to be, what you used to do. you were terrified of his reaction, terrified that it would make him treat you differently.
terrified that he would love you differently.
you didn’t want togame’s view of you to change; even if it meant hiding something so big from him. it was selfish and incredibly unfair, you knew this. but you were too weak, too scared. you didn’t want to lose togame.
you didn’t want togame to be grossed out by you.
but, as they say, things that are hidden in the dark must always come to the light, and they’ll do so in some way or another.
maybe it was just karmic retribution that it turned out this way; or maybe it was your own raging hormones, the ones that beckoned you to shed your long-sleeved shirt to feel togame’s skin against your own.
whatever it was, it was too late to assign blame — because your shirt was off, and togame had seen; his emerald eyes were glued to your left wrist, to the scars that littered the skin.
you held your breath while your heart shuddered in your chest. you were unable to read togame’s expression — at this point, you weren’t sure if it was because there wasn’t any emotion behind his expression or because your own mortification was blinding you.
for a moment, togame was simply silent. then, his eyes slid from your wrist and back to your face, but he didn’t say anything. instead, he leaned back down and recaptured your lips in a kiss. the heat he’d had before hadn’t faded in the least, but you were so shocked and confused that you couldn’t respond.
there were many thoughts racing through your mind, but plucking a single one out to focus on was near impossible. why wasn’t togame reacting to them? did he not care?
“they don’t change a thing,” togame suddenly murmured against your lips, sending your train of thought to a screeching halt. “they don’t change the way I feel about you. they don’t change the way I see you. you’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met.”
you couldn’t understand why, but togame’s words brought tears to your eyes. they were fat and salty, sliding from the corners of your eyes and soaking straight into the freshly clean sheets. your heart felt like it was aching — but it was the ache that came from fullness, from emotion so strong that it threatened to completely shatter its container.
unadulterated love and acceptance. that’s what these warm, intense feelings were. he loved and accepted you, scars and all; and togame kissed and soothed that sentiment straight into your body, heart and soul — until there was no other thing you could do except feel it.
#wind breaker#wind breaker x reader#windbreaker#windbreaker x reader#jo togame x reader#hajime umemiya x reader#haruka sakura x reader#hayato suo x reader#hiragi toma x reader
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You’re walking down a long quiet road. It’s winter, snow covers the ground, the sky fades gray. All around you are trees that have long since dropped their leaves, cold and dead, waiting for spring. You stop beneath one, eye caught by a striking sight. Amid the bare branches you see a round bundle of stunning green leaves. Hanging down above you are dozens of beautiful little pearly white berries. The fruit tempts you, but you don’t dare touch. Instead you simply admire them. Life among the dead of winter. Mistletoe.
@slocotion Hi, here is my design for slocotion's patreon dyo doll contest. Her name is Haustoria of the Pale. I was very excited to put this together once it struck me. I thought of all my favorite fruits I could have used but then inspiration hit me as I was considering less common fruits and fungi. Mistletoe is used medicinally by some but the entire plant, including its cute white berries, is toxic. Since this is a longer post, I’ll include more notes on my design under a cut but to point out the most important thing, I’ve combined the nature of the toxic berries with some historical+mythological inspiration that I think echoes it nicely.
In Norse mythology, a well known story is that of the death of Baldr. Baldr was the most loved god of the Aesir, so when a vision of his death reached his parents Odin and Frigga, they did all they could to protect him. Frigga sent her servants all over the world to make every creature and thing vow to never harm a hair on Baldr’s head. All but mistletoe promised, too insignificant or too young to make the vow. After it was done, Bladr seemed invincible. Since nothing was willing to hurt him, the gods would sometimes gather around and throw things at him, watching everything bounce off without injuring him. Loki, jealous of the love and affection that was always paid to Baldr, came up with a plan to get rid of him. He had an arrow made of mistletoe and brought it to Baldr’s blind brother Hodr. He gave it to him to throw at Baldr as all the gods pelted him with objects and weapons. Hodr threw the arrow and, since mistletoe had never promised not to harm him, it pierced his chest, killing him instantly... And so Baldr was delivered to the depths of the land of the dead, looked over by Hel.
specific design notes under the cut thank you for looking!
Mistletoe is a very interesting plant to me. It’s not a tree or vine or bush, but instead its an evergreen parasite. The sticky seeds attach themselves to the branches and grow into it with a haustorium, which is a structure that lets them sap nutrients from the host plant. Haustoria’s name is a reference to this structure. “of the Pale” is a reference to not only the color of the berries but the pale gray and white landscape of winter.
Mistletoe berries are heavily toxic but also exist in winter, when other plants may be barren and “dead.” Because of that and their parasitic nature I see them as a sweet little balance of life and death. In addition to that, I use the split colors of the face/mask of Haustoria to reference the goddess of the land of the dead, Hel, who is described as having a body that is half black as death, split down the middle.
The structure of the outfit is inspired by Scandinavian and specifically Norwegian folk dresses, since I’m borrowing old Norse history for more inspiration, it seemed fitting. I also felt the style would be good to accompany the botanical and berry designs attractively.
The twin peaked hood is to further split the design down the middle, with little charms to show life and death.
I included white beads all over the outfit to represent the mistletoe berries themselves so they could stand out.
The dark side of her face is adorned with thorns and has three mournful black tears leaking down from her eye, as well as a hollow half of the center heart.
The light side is blushed and lively with shiny eyes, leaves shaped like the mistletoe leaves, red petals like the mistletoe blooms, three white dots to be the mistletoe fruit, and the center heart is full.
Her cape is white on the inside to represent the white of the berries and also the white of snow.
To cap it off, I do believe mistletoe is fitting for a plague doctor as they are still used medicinally to this day. :)
Thank you for reading everything and looking at my design! I’m very proud of her and I hope she doesn’t stretch the theme. And definitely more than anything else I hope you enjoy looking at her!
#I hope you like her#I suddenly was struck with a vision of this design so I had to drop everything to work on her for a few days#sorry for the long post though I had a lot of thoughts#<3333#good luck to all the entrants I have been having fun looking at the other cute designs#I take immense interest in both botany and Norse mythology#kleptodoesart
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PALLADIUM - MYG
title credit: palladium- greyson chance
pairing: dilf!yoongi x reader // friends to lovers, slowburn, eventual smut
synopsis:
min yoongi is urgent.
in the way he bites his nails down to the bed, and the way his sore fingers type out desperate sentences just minutes before deadlines, he is urgent.
how he prepares jaehyun’s day bag before grandma comes by, and how he double checks everything is packed, he is urgent.
the requests for you to watch over jaehyun each and every deadline day are, always, predictably, urgent.
but the way min yoongi falls in love with you is slow. gradual. tepid.
until, like everything with min yoongi, it becomes urgent.
wordcount: 3.2K
note from holly: this was a prompt from a winner of one of my kofi quizzes! was supposed to be a drabble but now we are looking at a lil three parter. no smut in this part, just setting up our dynamics <3 yoongi is a boy dad! idc! argue with the wall!!!!
PART TWO // PART THREE
minors dni // cross posted to wattpad
"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't urgent," Yoongi pleads across the bakery counter. Nails bitten down to the bed, he's got bags underneath his eyes. Hasn't been sleeping well these days. Hasn't really been sleeping at all.
"I told you last time—"
"I know, I know," he sighs, pushing off of the countertop and pacing a few steps away, raking a stressed palm through his long, dark hair. Dishevelled, he hasn't had it cut in a while. You'll never tell him, but you think it looks better this way. "Look, it's the last time. I promise. I just really fucked it this time."
With a raised brow, you fold your arms over your chest. The apron beneath you bunches a little awkwardly, but you've never cared much for composure around Yoongi. Have simply known him too long and seen him through too many clumsy stages of life to be bothered.
Tipping your head back, you exhale a sharp breath from the very depths of your lungs.
"You are so lucky Jaehyun is an angel baby," you eventually say, shaking your head as you reluctantly agree. "What time do you need me?"
"Deadline is at midnight," Yoongi says, "So whenever you can get to mine, really. Mum has him till seven, but then she's got Bitch'n'Stitch—"
"Hey," you scold. "My mum goes to that knitting group, too."
"I'm not calling her a bitch—but I've heard their conversations," Yoongi reminds you. He swears they don't actually do any knitting (as if they haven't handmade half of Jaehyun's closet). Thinks they spend the entire time gossiping. And while yes, they do do a lot of gossiping, they can multitask. Unlike him, apparently. "But fine. She has her knitting group at seven."
Yoongi will never simply call it a knitting group, if he can help it.
Bitch'n'Stitch is his go-to, but he's also partial to Stitching Hour.
Last week, you'd just gone on a rant about how it's inappropriate to insinuate that all women of a certain age from your small town are witches—"Women used to get burned at the stake, Yoongi. Burned!"—so he knows better than to say it out loud today, even if it makes him laugh whenever he thinks about them knitting on broomsticks.
"I'll probably be outta here at just gone six," you tell him.
It's the late shift, so you're responsible for closing and cleaning up, but after two years of part-time work alongside your studies, you're a dab hand. Can action off every item on the to-do list in record time, and to a standard even your boss can't achieve.
You're wasted on a small town like this, but someone's gotta do it.
"That's fine," Yoongi nods. "I just need to straighten this essay out and get my citations done. You can go as soon as I'm finished—and hey, you can order takeout. I'll pay."
Knowing Yoongi, he's probably surviving on instant noodles, and spending all of his money on Red Bull and Jaehyun's meticulously planned diet.
Jaehyun's been off formula for about two months, now, and Yoongi is terrified of feeding him the wrong thing. By the looks of his slightly skinnier-than-usual frame, he's the one in need of a good meal.
And so, as you're doing your final tasks of the day, you don't bin the breads that need to be chucked. Instead, you bag them up. All of them. The pastries, too. Will just have to hope Yoongi has freezer space.
By the time you make it home, you've only got ten minutes to spare for a quick shower before you need to rush to Yoongi's. You'll be a little after seven, but it's fine. You've resigned yourself to staying at Yoongi's until midnight, now.
It's how it usually goes.
He'll work up until his deadline, rewriting and revising paragraphs that are perfectly fine and need no alterations. His own worst critic, you know that he really doesn't need to stress himself out like this.
Still, he does. You think he'll always be this way—at least, he was in high school, and he remains to be this way, even in university. Too much of a habit has been formed. It's ingrained in the ridges of his brain. Pink and permanent—just like the pout on his lips as he opens his apartment door for you later that evening.
Forearm tucked under Jaehyun's pudgy thighs, Yoongi cradles his son into his side, as a look of relief relaxes onto his face. It's a stark reminder of why Yoongi stresses himself out so much.
You can afford to make mistakes. The only person you have to answer to is yourself.
Yoongi doesn't have that luxury anymore. Hasn't done for a while, now. Won't ever get it again—or at least, not for another seventeen years.
"Hey," he whispers, then casts his eyes down to Jaehyun's sleepy head. Nestling into Yoongi's shoulder, Jaehyun's dark hair now has a little length to it. Much like his own, Yoongi is refusing to cut it. Another thing he's scared of getting wrong.
The subtle nod Yoongi gestures towards Jaehyun is a request for you to be quiet.
You're familiar with his paternal habits by now; the behaviours he exhibits only when he's wearing his invisible 'Dad' hat.
He tucks back against the door, letting you walk on through and into his apartment.
Shoes off by the door, Yoongi locks up as you shake off your jacket, and hook it on the empty peg in the middle of the rack.
Small and a little dark, Yoongi hates his home. Is strapped for cash, so turned the open plan kitchen and sitting room into a studio-type set-up. Has his bed where a sofa should be, and manages to cram everything somewhere. His desk, his small keyboard, his clothing rail that he really needs to reorganise. A bunch of his things are in storage.
Jaehyun's room is what once was Yoongi's. It's got the most natural light, thanks to the window placement, not that it matters at this time of night. The curtains are drawn, playmat full of yellows and oranges scattered across the floor. Beside it, is Yoongi's laptop. The screensaver is running, and it's pretty obvious he'd been playing with the little toy octopus sprawled across the keyboard instead, when you had arrived.
"Bit late for nap time?" You question quietly as you pop your phone on the charging pad Yoongi keeps on the dresser.
Nodding, Yoongi gently rests his son down in his crib. These past couple of days, everything has been a little out of sync. He feels guilty—like he's failing—but the pressures he's been putting on himself are just getting far too great. He's doing the best he can, but it always feels like it's not enough.
But Jaehyun is loved, and sheltered, and provided for. Yoongi is doing all he can. He just still isn't sure he knows how to be a dad.
Which is silly, because as you watch him stroke across the dark hair that sits flat to Jaehyun's scalp, quietly monitoring his condition, you think that Yoongi was made for this. Is far more paternal than you are maternal.
Truth be told, you don't like kids all that much.
Your idea of a fun evening doesn't typically involve hanging out with an infant, and yet you'll do it for Yoongi. Of course, you will. Have known him for too long and have been through too much with him to not help him.
Plus, you really do adore Jaehyun. Sweet as can be when he sleeps, he really does look just like Yoongi at that age—or so you gather from the baby pictures you've seen a dozen times over at his parents' place. It's easier to count which features they don't share. Saves ever needing to do a paternity test, not that Yoongi would do one anyway.
Jaehyun is his kid. A little bit of DNA wouldn't change this fact, not in his eyes.
It worries you. Not because you think Yoongi isn't his father—again, they're too alike to not be related—but in case his mother decides she wants to play an active role in Jaehyun's life. You fear that the 1% of doubt could come true and tear any legal right away from Yoongi. You're not really sure how the courts would work it all out, but you doubt they'd side with him.
Yoongi was never meant to be a father. Not now, at least. The outcome of a one-night-stand, Jaehyun's biological mother didn't realise she was pregnant until it was too late. Had no real choice in the matter. Was also nearing the end of her tenure in law school. A kid was not—and remains to not be—a part of her plan.
You know the documents were signed. Legal rights, shit like that. Know that she must have an understanding of the law far greater than Yoongi. Just hope she hasn't done anything that will fuck him over in the future.
Still, it's not a topic of conversation Yoongi likes indulging in, and so you don't push, no matter how much you'd like to know the details.
"Let him sleep," Yoongi eventually sighs, before sinking down to lie on the rug. "Better he rests while I'm working—and plus, he slept through till five-thirty this morning."
"Till sunrise?" You chirp, a little surprised but conscious of keeping your voice down.
Yoongi nods, face rubbing against the carpet. "He's basically a teenager."
Rolling your eyes, you reach down for his wrist to drag him to his feet. He's got an essay to finish.
"Shut up," you smile. "You've barely stopped being a teenager."
Sometimes, it makes you a little sad to think that Yoongi is missing out on his early twenties—but then you glance across to Jaehyun and know that he's not missing anything. Just experiencing different things. That's all.
"Don't remind me," he grunts, lamely getting to his feet, letting you pull him down the hallway as you swipe the baby monitor that lives next to the charging pad. You'll come back for your phone later.
"C'mon, gotta finish your essay. Can't be a DILF unless you get this degree."
"Untrue."
"You'll just be a D without a good job," you tell him. "DILF's are always suited up."
"That's simply not true," he doubles down. "I've been told I'm a DILF at least, like, six times. Maybe more."
Definitely more. If he knew the way girls on campus spoke about him? God, his head would be so big he wouldn't be able to walk through doors.
But for now, you shoo him back through Jaehyun's bedroom door and to his sitting room-come-bedroom. The apartment isn't large. A baby monitor isn't needed, yet one is set up by Yoongi's bed, regardless.
And so, as Yoongi knuckles down with his work, you flop onto his bed, and take prime babysitting position—though you're pretty sure you'd get fired if you ever got under anyone else's sheets on the job.
But it's late, and you've worked a long shift. You're only gonna rest your eyes for a moment. A second. A fraction of one, even. Just to hydrate them a little. Replenish your—
You're out like a light.
The curse of Min Yoongi's bedsheets. You really should have known better. It happens every damn time. You know this. He knows this.
Yet when he eventually wakes you, neither of you mention it.
"Hey," Yoongi mumbles as he gently nudges your sleepy body. Flopping down beside you on top of the duvet, his exhausted eyes close instantaneously.
"I'm going, I'm going," you grumble into his duvet, half asleep but knowing that you should go and check on Jaehyun.
The baby monitor hasn't made any noise to wake you, and Yoongi's just been with him for the last twenty minutes, quietly watching on as he slept. Is pretty confident he's gonna sleep through again tonight.
Reaching out to pat you down, Yoongi doesn't really acknowledge the way he accidentally taps your ass. Nor do you. Just sort of pretend that he didn't. Pretend that it didn't make your heart race a little.
"S'fine," he says, voice muffled by his need for rest. "He's still sleeping. Just checked on him."
"Sure?"
"Mhm," Yoongi nods, the sound of his hair smooth against his sheets. "You gonna crash here?"
"You all done?" You question right back. Shuffle, and his hand lazily moves with you. His wrist now rests on your hip, and you both pretend like it's normal.
"All done," he confirms. "Was late, so I've lost ten percent, but whatever."
For someone who stresses himself out as much as Yoongi does over his grades, as soon as he's hit the submission button, he just ceases to care. Has a 'what'll be, will be' attitude towards it all. Part of you wishes he would adopt that mentality when he's actually writing his essays.
What you don't realise is that it manifests from the same fear.
He panics and panics and panics before a deadline—and then is so worried about his grade that he just pretends like they don't exist.
Too sleepy to care at this moment in time, Yoongi's placement of his wrist on your hip becomes more intentional. Deliberate.
It's not like you're a stranger to the weight of Yoongi's arms draped over your body. Not like it's the first time—it's just every time it does happen, you swear it'll be the last.
It never is.
And it's not like it's anything illicit. Not anything you shouldn't be doing. Nothing that takes you beyond the realms of friendship—but it does threaten the integrity of your oldest connection to another human outside of familial ties.
So every time Yoongi gets a little too close, or you find yourself lingering a little long on his words, you tell yourself to stop. That this is just a symptom of the dry spell you've been going through.
"Are you staying here tonight?" He asks.
Again, it wouldn't be the first time. Have been having sleepovers with him since you were kids. Ghost stories, midnight feasts. Sneaking out to the park to find UFOs and stopping by the corner shop for snacks.
Once high school hit, it was deemed unwise by your parents. Open door policy.
You'd been furious. Outraged that your privacy was being taken from you, and being told it was for your own good.
And so sneaking out the park became sneaking in windows; films watched with headphones on, dinner eaten in your bedroom under the guise of a melodramatic teenage strop, but actually shared with the boy from two doors down who knew better than to deceive your parents.
All innocent. Nothing that required a closed door. Those escapades were saved for—or wasted on—other people. Either, or. Neither you nor Yoongi gave it much thought. Why would you?
Friends, is what you were. What you are. What you always have been.
Which begs the question: why the fuck is Yoongi looking at you like that?
But then the wrist of Yoongi's resting on your hip becomes his hand. The grip becomes intentional. The stillness of your body comes not from tiredness, but from trepidation.
"Do you want me to?"
"It's late," he husks, thumb stroking against your hip as if that's what friends do. "You're off tomorrow, right? Don't need to go home?"
"Right."
"Well, then stay," he shrugs, loosening his grip to roll onto his back. The ceiling is far less interesting than you are, but he has to stop looking at your lips and wondering if they taste like the strawberry lip balm you'd tossed on the side cabinet earlier. "Makes sense."
"Stay?" You question as if he still needs to clearly outline that, yes, he'd like you to stay. "And do what?"
"Sleep," he dryly replies, because it's the obvious answer. Because it's what you should do. You're tired. He's tired. Jaehyun is asleep in the next room over.
"Sleep," you nod. "Sounds good."
Domestication becomes you in times like these. A toothbrush sits in an old glass on the top shelf of Yoongi's mirrored bathroom cabinet. The rest of the shelves are pretty much empty, but he always puts it up there. Says it annoys him anywhere else.
"Surely it's more annoying having to get it down for me every time I crash here?" You banter with him as you lean against the back wall of his bathroom, waiting for him to retrieve it.
Plucking it from the glass, Yoongi is swift with his movements, and the way he wets the brush, puts a pearl of toothpaste on the bristles, then hands it back over to you.
"Doesn't bother me," he shrugs, turning back around to shut the cabinet. When he does, he's greeted with your eyes in the mirror, and a feeling in his stomach that should bother him.
See, the D in Yoongi's DILF actually stands for dependable (although occasionally dickhead also fits). He likes being asked to do things. Likes being helpful. Useful. Knows that he depends on you far more than you do him, and so he does this to settle the score.
You help him pass his exams, and he helps you keep good dental hygiene habits. A win-win situation.
Leaving you to finish washing up, Yoongi does the final checks of his apartment. Bolts the door. Turns out the lights. Makes sure Jaehyun's day bag is packed for tomorrow with his Grandma. Adds the day's clothes to the laundry pile. Stands in the doorframe of Jaehyun's room to just simply watch his son exist for a little while longer.
He loses track of time doing this. It's a nightly routine, so you think he'd get used to it, but he never does. Still can't fully comprehend that a living, breathing creature relies on him for basic survival.
Sure, he hides your toothbrush away, and puts things out of reach for you just to get you asking him for help, but this is different. He cares about nothing more than making sure Jaehyun is surrounded by abundance: love, shelter, food. Everything the world has to offer, Yoongi wants for his son—and that's why he's working so damn hard to make sure it happens.
There's a tenderness to how Yoongi strokes your back when you stand beside him. He's far gentler than he used to be. Benevolent with age. Isn't the same kid who used to chase you around his parent's yard with a worm in one hand, and a pile of mud in the other.
"C'mon," you whisper, walking away because you know you need to break the contact. "Let's rest."
Yoongi nods. Is slow as he tears his gaze from his son, but just as stoic as he watches you saunter down the hallway and into your bedroom for the night. His bedroom.
You slip out of sight, just in time for Yoongi to exhale the air in his lungs. His sigh is full of unspoken words. Uncertain terms—and as he follows you down, he wonders how many more secrets will bloat his lungs throughout the night.
#bts fanfic#bts x y/n#bts x reader smut#bts fic#bts x you#bts x reader#yoongi fic#bts yoongi#yoongi smut#min yoongi smut#yoongi x reader#yoongi x you#min yoongi#yoongi#myg x you#myg x reader#myg smut#myg#byholly#yoongi oneshot#dilf yoongi
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Blood red eyes, point-sharp nails
Reptile skin, prehensile tails
Come one, cum all... to Monsterfucker May
Details beneath the cut.
What is this?
It's pretty much what it says on the tin. Take your blorbo(s), monsterfy them, and put them in (sexy) situations.
I'm calling it a Spicy Six challenge, but I did throw an asterisk (technically a dagger bc of its superior aesthetics) out beside that because you can totally also write, like, Selkie Joyce or Mothman Mr. Clarke.
Or Jeff CorrodedCoffin getting his shit rocked by Mermaid Heather Holloway.
I pretty much wanted to indicate that this particular challenge excludes the younger characters and there's not a great catch-all term for "every legal adult in Hawkins/Chicago/California."
How sexy does my fic/art have to be?
As sexy as you want. This IS a monsterFUCKER challenge, but... Maybe the sex is fade-to-black in your fic. Or maybe your monsters have sex in a very unique way.
Maybe your art is just a ring-covered hand white-knuckling fur. Maybe it's fanged faces contorted with bliss.
Sometimes anticipation and suggestion are plenty.
That said, I also encourage the most unhinged freaknasty shit you can think up, if that's what you wanna do.
What counts a monster?
You tell me, pal. 😏
(Feel free to use the word loosely to include any kind of creature, fantasy/mythological being, or even random sentient concepts e.g. Death or Time.)
So how do I participate?
Write a fic and/or create a work of art that fits the challenge.
Fics can be any length, and you can create as few or as many creative works for this challenge as you want.
On tumblr and all other sites where hashtags are used, tag with #STMonsterMay and #STMonsterMay24
On AO3, add your work to the collection, searchable as STMonsterMay24 when posting a new work. This will open on May 1 at midnight US EST time.
Please only add works posted in May to the collection/tags. (Sequels are okay! So are new works of art for existing fics/universes.)
Is it okay if I write/draw [character/ship/dark concept/etc.]?
I wholeheartedly and passionately do not give a shit. As long as it fits the parameters of the challenge, it's fair game. Just tag and warn appropriately.
That said, I will kindly request people are a bit conscious of what they're doing. I'm thinking of things like not using Native/Indigenous monsters if they don't belong to you. Etc.
* Will this be moderated?
This challenge will be 95% unmoderated because I expect people to act like the kind and conscientious adults they are. I also have no idea how successful or unsuccessful this will end up being yet and if it would even be possible to keep an eye on Everything.
However, if something really egregious happens re: cultural/racial sensitivity, or a serious lack of tags for a rough topic, people are encouraged to message or inbox me, and I'll look into it and make whatever call seems to fit the situation re: removal from the collection, talking to the creator, requesting additional tags, etc.
For things posted outside of the ao3 collection, there won't be much I can personally do except attempting to have a productive conversation with the creator (if there is a way for me to do that.)
Feel free to reach out if you have any Qs!
Otherwise, I'll see you all in May. 😈
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Fruity four + reader taking a weekend trip to a beach house, and reader + best friend!Eddie don't stop touching and teasing each other, including them sharing a bed despite having their own each and him getting hard while they play fight in her bikini👀
i never know who's included in the fruity four anymore so this is mostly just reader/eddie </3
this post is 18+, minors dni.
Eddie comes out of the bathroom shirtless, joggers on his waist as he runs a towel through his hair. It's too long to get away with, and you're sure his rapid strokes of the towel through his curls just tangle them, but you're too cozy in your twin bed to stop him.
"Water pressure sucks in there," He jerks a thumb back towards the bathroom, "I'd have better luck showering down on the shore."
"You'd be all covered in sand," You grimace at the thought, "Just brush your hair and come to bed, I'm tired and I don't wanna hear you clomping around all night."
"I'm not that loud," Eddie grumbles, tossing the towel aside, "You're very demanding."
"Pardon me for wanting a nice vacation," You snap, turning over on the tiny mattress, "I'm so tired from swimming earlier that I thought I was gonna fall asleep on the fire pit."
Eddie comes back with a brush, you can hear it even though you're not facing him anymore. He grabs at your own hair, tugging a strand, "You'd have burnt this all off, babe."
"Leave me alone," You squirm, tugging your hair out of his grip, "I mean it, Munson, I'm exhausted."
"Fine! Fine," He huffs, tossing the brush aside, "Scoot over."
"What?"
"Scoot over," He nudges at your waist, pushing you across the too-small mattress, "You were begging me to come to bed, now you're confused?"
"Not my bed!" You insist, pushing at Eddie's hands that are still on your waist, "Idiot, you've got a bed right over there!"
"I saw a spider in it," Eddie informs you, not-so-convincing in his tall tales, "Just let me in, hardass."
You wriggle to one side of the mattress, but you're not done with him. When he slides beneath the blankets you scoot back against him, your ass flush to his crotch.
"I don't think you saw a spider," You muse, voice hushed as Eddie's breath hitches with the movement of your hips, "I think you want to sleep with me."
"Oh, yeah?" Eddie hums, but his voice shakes slightly, "What makes you think that?"
"You're getting hard," You snicker, "And you were earlier, too. Down by the beach, when we were wrestling. You like seeing me in a bikini? You like putting your hands all over me?"
"Y/N-" Eddie starts, his hands slowly sliding over your waist.
You cut him off with an obnoxious yawn, finally settling with your hips squeezed tight to his own, "On second thought, I'm tired. We'll talk in the morning, Eds. G'night."
He's barely able to grit his teeth and spit back a forced 'Good night.', but from the slight stiffness you feel against your ass, you know he won't be sleeping anytime soon.
#eddie munson#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson scenario#eddie munson oneshot#eddie munson one-shot#eddie munson one shot#eddie munson headcanon#eddie munson headcanons#eddie munson hc#eddie munson hcs#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fic#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson drabble#eddie munson dialogue#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson smut
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