#which is…annoying but whatever (barely containing my anger)

[kiwisandpearls]

I’m usually not nonsharing* but whenever I stumble across character x oc fanart/fanfics in character x reader tags I feel a primal rage within me I have never felt before

[misswynters]

𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

featuring. caitlyn kiramman x reader

warnings: only angsty and hurt, no comfort

synopsis: In which you and cait are friends with benefits and she decides that you aren’t worth it.

requested! by @trikalovski

There you stood in a room, as the cold air of Piltover’s rooftops seemed sharper than ever. The beautiful midnight sky cloaked in thick clouds, hiding the stars. Shadows twisted between the flickering lights below, the city’s tall spires casting an oppressive atmosphere. It was a world untouched by the grime and grit of the undercity, yet somehow, you felt even filthier here, wrapped in this strange, transient arrangement with Piltover’s prodigal daughter.

A small, hidden room on the upper floors of an old building became your meeting place, a secluded space to avoid curious eyes. Caitlyn liked it for its anonymity, far from the eyes of her colleagues and, more importantly, her family. The space was sparsely furnished, with only a worn couch and dim light filtering through cracked windows. Cold and utilitarian, just like her.

Tonight, you’d waited longer than usual, feeling the tension knotting in your stomach as each second passed. This wasn’t how you’d imagined it would feel; the anticipation gnawing at you was nothing like the excitement you once felt. When Caitlyn finally arrived, you barely heard her footsteps, but you knew from her sharp, purposeful stride that she was irritated. She walked in, her coat still on, eyes shadowed with fatigue and annoyance as they landed on you.

“You’re here,” she said flatly, as if it were an inconvenience.

“Yeah,” you replied, watching her carefully, feeling a strange mix of longing and bitterness coil inside you. For a moment, silence filled the room, and you could sense the weight of her exhaustion, the frustration simmering just beneath her cool exterior. There was something about her tonight that felt colder, more detached.

As she shrugged off her coat and tossed it on the couch, you decided you couldn’t keep quiet any longer. “Cait… we need to talk,” you said, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to sound calm.

She shot you a sharp glance, clearly annoyed, already reaching for the buttons on her cuffs as if eager to skip past whatever you were going to say. “Really? You want to do this now?” she asked, a hint of exasperation in her tone. “I’ve had a long day, and I’m not in the mood for whatever this is.”

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself. “I just… I need to know what this is to you. What I am to you,” you said, barely able to keep the vulnerability from showing.

Caitlyn’s gaze hardened, her hands pausing as she looked at you with a cool detachment that cut deeper than any words could. “What you are?” she repeated, almost mockingly. “I thought that was pretty clear from the start.”

Your heart sank as her words hit you with brutal clarity, but you forced yourself to press on. “I thought… maybe things had changed. That maybe this was something more than just… just a way to pass time.”

A bitter chuckle escaped her lips, and she shook her head. “You’re delusional if you thought this was more than what it is,” she replied bluntly. “You’re a distraction, something to take my mind off everything else. That’s all.”

Her words stung, each one landing like a knife twisting in your chest. You tried to hold back the emotions that were threatening to spill over, but the pain was raw and uncontainable. “So that’s it?” you managed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just something to keep you entertained, something to make you forget about Vi, Jinx and the damn war?”

“Yes,” she replied coldly, not a trace of remorse in her tone. “If that bothers you, you’re free to leave. No one’s forcing you to stay.” Her callousness was shocking, but you could feel the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, the anger and hurt bubbling up until you couldn’t contain it any longer. “I thought you cared,” you said, hating how desperate you sounded, hating how vulnerable she’d made you feel.

Caitlyn crossed her arms, a faint sneer on her lips as she looked at you with a mixture of irritation and pity. “Feelings are a luxury I can’t afford right now,” she said, her voice dripping with disdain. “I have responsibilities, a city to protect. You think I have time for… romance? For whatever it is you think this was?”

The coldness in her words, the absolute dismissal of everything you’d felt for her, was more than you could bear. “Then why keep coming back to me? Why use me like this if I mean nothing to you?” you demanded, a spark of anger igniting in your chest despite the heartache.

“Because you’re convenient,” she replied bluntly, her words like a slap to the face. “Because you don’t ask questions, or at least I thought you didn’t.” She took a step closer, her gaze piercing, unapologetic. “And because if you don’t want this, there are plenty of others who would.”

The finality in her words hit you like a blow, and the anger drained away, leaving only a hollow ache in its place. She was willing to replace you with no hesitation or remorse. Just a cold, unfeeling practicality that made it clear just how little you’d ever meant to her.

“So that’s it then?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper, your hands clenched at your sides to stop them from trembling. “You’d throw me away like I’m nothing?”

“If that’s what it takes,” Caitlyn replied without hesitation, her gaze steady and unforgiving. “I don’t have time for drama, for emotional attachments that complicate things. If you want more, you’re in the wrong place.”

You swallowed hard, feeling a tear slip down your cheek despite your best efforts to hold it back. “I thought… I thought maybe you felt something for me,” you admitted, your voice breaking slightly.

She scoffed, shaking her head as if your words were an inconvenience. “Feel something? I told you from the beginning what this was. If you decided to make it something more, that’s your problem, not mine.”

You felt your heart shatter at the casual cruelty in her voice, the complete lack of empathy or care. She didn’t care about you, and she never had. You’d been nothing more than a means to an end, a distraction she could discard whenever it suited her. Taking a shaky breath, you nodded, swallowing the pain as best you could. “Fine,” you said quietly, barely able to keep the bitterness from seeping into your voice. “If that’s all I am to you… then I’ll leave.”

“Good,” she replied curtly, turning away without a second thought, as if you were already gone. “It’s for the best.”

You hesitated, feeling the sting of her words, the finality of her dismissal. She didn’t look back, didn’t offer any parting words or a hint of regret. She simply walked away, her focus already elsewhere, leaving you standing alone in the cold, empty room that had once felt like a place of refuge. As you walked out, you felt the weight of every unspoken word, every shattered hope. Caitlyn had used you, and she hadn’t cared. The realization hit like a punch to the gut, leaving you feeling hollow, betrayed, and utterly alone. And as you stepped back into the shadows, the familiar bitterness of the undercity swallowed you whole, the echoes of her callous words lingering long after you’d left her world behind.

taglist: @thesevi0lentdelights @diffusebread @xxblairslairxx @ekkosh

[sugrhigh]

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY - ( c.s )

REQUESTED HERE**

summary- you and chris have been broken up for a few weeks when you run into each other at a party. emotions run high, and you’re both overwhelmed by jealousy as you navigate being newly single.

warnings- smut, angst with no resolution! don’t come looking for a happy ending

ex!chris x fem!reader

a/n: this one hurt but i’m hoping it fulfills your requests!! enjoy xoxoxo and as always my inbox is open for whatever

what people don’t tell you about breaking up with your boyfriend is that every single outing afterwards has the potential to turn sour within a second. unfortunately, tonight is proving to be one of those times.

your friends decided to drag you to a pool party in the hills, thrown by a rather charming trust fund baby who happens to be a mutual acquaintance of the group. you hadn’t left your apartment in a questionable amount of time, so an intervention was necessary.

at first everything was fine; drinks were flowing, guys were hitting on you, and the pain was temporarily numbed. the least you could do was pretend to enjoy your newfound freedom for an hour or so.

but then you spot him; he’s standing by the decorated bar, drink in one hand and a pretty girl on his other arm. he looks as good as ever, long hair tousled to perfection, dressed in a simple black muscle tee and patterned trunks.

both your heart and your feet stop dead in their tracks. it’s been a few weeks since you called it quits, and you’d been able to avoid seeing him until this very moment. every kiss, every happy memory, and every argument—especially your very last—comes flooding right back.

watching him interact with another girl only makes it ten times more hurtful. you’re about to turn and run when his eyes meet yours, and he looks just as shocked as you feel.

it’s clear neither of you were expecting the other to be here, and you’re not quite sure what the protocol is for this situation. all you’re currently thinking is that you want to walk over there and rip that stupid bitch off of him, and you’re pretty sure he can tell.

one of his eyebrows raises, almost on instinct. he can see that you’re jealous, and you can see that he knows this fact. you’re embarrassed for a moment until you realize he’s taunting you, hand sliding down to the mystery girl’s ass as they talk amongst their circle.

then true anger rears its ugly head, a painful kind of anger like your nerves have been set on fire. who the fuck does he think he is, playing stupid games with you?

he should know that all he’ll win is stupid prizes. he’s just as greedy as you are, and seeing you with anyone else would piss him right off.

and it would also absolutely serve him right.

you straighten up, looking around for the cute boy—josh, if you remember correctly—who had approached you earlier to compliment your bikini. your eyes narrow in on him, sat by the edge of the pool with some of his buddies. the perfect target.

you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the wound in your heart inspiring you, but it doesn’t matter.

you don’t look back at chris. instead, you beeline toward the water, not hesitating to interrupt their chat as you tap on his shoulder. josh looks up with a huff, seemingly a bit annoyed until he realizes who it is.

his face softens immediately, squinting up at you like you’re suddenly the only thing he’s interested in. “oh, hey there.”

you smile, trying to be as enchanting as possible as you offer him your hand. “hello again. wanna dance?”

his friends are barely able to contain their excitement, and he nods eagerly in response to your question. his large palm slips into yours and you help him up, tugging him closer to the horde of people already swaying to the music.

you can physically feel chris’s eyes following the two of you through the crowd, which inflates your ego massively. you have no idea where your friends are, but right now you’re so riled up that you’re only focused on payback.

you turn your back to josh, allowing him to loosely hold your hips against his own. you move together well, and as nice as it is, all you can think about it chris. you dare to look over, and as expected, he’s glaring at you with the fire of a thousand suns.

you don’t want to smirk, but you feel one take over your face anyways. all he’s seeing is red; it doesn’t matter that you’re broken up, you shouldn’t be dancing with anyone like that unless it’s him.

he wasn’t the one that initiated that talk anyways. you had, because the strain of him being at such a busy point in his life was just too much. he didn’t fight it; he saw how unhappy you were because he was so focused on his next career moves, that facetimes had turned to texts and that your schedules never seemed to line up anymore.

you’re just as ambitious, zeroed in on your last year of school and working hard to finance that dream. it used to be easier, but then a lot more outside stress began tearing you apart.

that doesn’t mean you’re not the right person for him. chris already knows that you are, it’s just clearly not the right time. and it breaks his heart, but he can’t give you what you deserve right now.

this guy is no prince charming, though, and it’s pissing him off.

your head tilts as josh’s mouth ghosts over your neck, your lips parting slightly, and that’s when chris feels himself explode. the girl that was hanging around him doesn’t matter. in fact, he doesn’t excuse himself at all; he just sets his drink down on the bar and turns back to you.

he moves quickly, shifting by a few other people so that he can break this shit up. you pull away from josh before he even reaches you, but when he does his hand grips your wrist harshly.

“hey, man, what the—”

“she doesn’t want you.” chris calls over his shoulder as he pulls you away, and you know that everybody is watching.

you give josh an apologetic glance, because you do feel kind of bad, but chris is also yanking you along with such a force that you’re actually tripping over your feet. you try to catch up, but you look silly fumbling along behind him.

“slow the fuck down, jesus.” you try to tug him back, but he keeps his pace the same.

“no.” he says it in a harsh tone, though he slides his hand down to hold yours.

it surprises you a bit, but you don’t read into it too much. he’s still obviously pissed, dragging you past various crowds until you finally reach the house. there’s far less people inside, but neither of you are really paying attention to them.

“where are we going?” you ask as he leads you up the stairs, though you’re not doing much to resist.

“to talk.” he replies bluntly, as if it’s that simple.

you scoff, mainly to yourself, which is cut off when you reach the second floor and chris jerks you into a bathroom. he finally lets go of you, using one hand to slam the light switch on and the other to close and lock the door.

you’re backed up against the counter when he shifts around again, breathing heavily as he stands over you. you haven’t been this close together in quite some time, and it’s making your heart race out of control.

his dark eyes observe you for a second before he finally speaks. “you know i don’t like being teased, sweetheart. so who was that guy?”

you roll your eyes. “i don’t owe you an explanation. in case you forgot, we’re not together anymore.”

chris puts his palms down on the counter, boxing you in so that his face is only a few inches from yours. his cologne smells so familiar and so enticing, and you can’t help but gravitate a little closer even though you’re infuriated.

“doesn’t change the fact that i don’t want to see some fucking loser with his hands all over you.” he grumbles, and you can practically feel the steam coming out of your ears.

how much more hypocritical can he get?

you jab a finger into his chest harshly. “you think i wanted to see you playing grab-ass with a random girl? because news flash chris—i didn’t. you don't have the right to be all pissy just because i reacted to you being a dick.”

one of his hands goes to grip your throat impulsively, squeezing just enough to let you know that you’re frustrating him. you hate that it makes you throb, being so completely under his control.

you’ve never seen him this angry before, but in some odd way it makes you feel valid in regards to your own emotions.

“you better watch your goddamn mouth, or i’m gonna have to put it to good use.” chris spits bitterly, tilting your head slightly so that you’re forced to look in his eyes.

“oh, just shut the fuck up.” you sigh, leaning the rest of the way so that your lips crash together.

you’re not sure why you did it, but being so close without any real contact was driving you even crazier than his sanctimoniousness. and it feels incredible, his mouth devouring yours like it’s the first time.

your tongues slide together as if you’re the only thing he wants to taste ever again. and it’s true; he’s obsessed with savoring every inch of you, especially now that he’s not sure when the opportunity will present itself again.

you bite down on his lip, not caring enough to be gentle because you’re still annoyed. he groans as you let go, already hard as he slides his hands down to grip your ass so that he can hold you against him.

“you were mad that it wasn’t you, huh? that i wasn’t touching you in the middle of the party?” he says against your jaw as he leaves open-mouthed kisses along it.

it feels like he’s burning every place he touches. you can’t stand the fire, how fucking cocky he sounds, and yet you can’t get enough.

“yeah and you wished it was me in your arms instead, sweetheart.” you mock him breathlessly, tangling you fingers in his roots because you know he likes it.

you feel him clamp down on your neck lightly and you moan, rocking your hips against his in response. chris smirks, sucking the skin into his mouth a bit so it’ll bruise. the possessive part of him needs to leave a mark.

you've been driving him crazy in that little fucking bikini, covered only by a short white skirt. it’s so thin that it doesn’t hide anything anyways, so he yanks it up your hips desperately.

chris doesn’t want to wait anymore. all he’s done is think about this moment for the past three weeks, all he’s done is miss you.

“of course i did, you fucking know that. so are you gonna be good for me, or are we gonna do it the hard way?” he asks, even though it’s more like a growl.

his hand slips underneath your bathing suit bottoms, trailing downward slowly until his fingers ghost over you slick center. your breathing hitches as your nails slide to rake at his back, rutting upwards to try and feel more friction.

“fuck me like you mean it and we won’t have a problem.” you try to keep your voice steady, but he starts to apply more pressure to your clit, slowly circling it in a way that makes you slur your words toward the end.

“don’t have to tell me twice.”

you shouldn’t be this wet for him already, but you are. you feel him start to tease your entrance, his other palm kneading one of your breasts roughly. you whimper as he fully slides two fingers inside your warm cunt, recapturing your mouth with his own to quiet you down.

the music continues to thump from the floor below, and you’re pretty sure no one can hear you, though you both know you need to be quick.

the pressure is perfect, and you missed the way he feels all over you. he’s squeezing your hard nipples through your bikini top, thumb ghosting over your lower sensitive bud as he works you with his hand.

“more, chris, hurry up.” you beg with your forehead pressed against his, trying to tug at his board shorts even though you’re becoming weak in the knees as he curls his fingers.

he retracts them right then, and even though you immediately miss the tension you can’t wait for what’s to come. chris turns his focus towards shoving his trunks out of the way so that his erection can bounce free, and your hand instinctively goes to stroke him.

he cuts you off before you can, grabbing your wrist and spinning you around so quickly that you have to steady yourself by pressing your palms flat on the counter. he forces you to bend a bit more, ensuring that your ass pokes out as he caresses the curve of your hips.

“you’ve always been quite the brat.” chris shakes his head once, slapping his hand down against the side of your flesh playfully.

you let out a small whine, backing up further so that your wet core comes in contact with his shaft. he curses, wrapping a hand in your hair as the other grips your side.

“see? so impatient.” he chides before swiftly lining up with your entrance and ramming his cock inside you without warning.

you both moan, long and loud as he stretches you out. chris swears to god that you’re made for him, that nobody else will ever make him feel this euphoric. your back arches as he sets a fast pace, dragging your hips back so that your skin slaps together.

“fuck, you feel so—mmmn.” you groan as he trails his hand down the center of your stomach, roaming towards your puffy clit again.

you feel yourself shudder slightly, completely overwhelmed by the incredible amount of stimulation. you’re forced to stare at your reflection as chris holds your weak head up, your eyes tearing up a bit.

“tell me i’m the fucking best, baby.” he leans down to purr in your ear, snapping his hips so that he hits the perfect spot deep inside.

“you’re the fucking best.” you tell him truthfully, leaning into the momentum so that he bottoms out inside of you during every stroke.

chris admires all of it; the way your ass bounces when you come in contact with the top of his thighs, the feeling of your hair in his palm, the lewd expression of your face in the mirror.

he can feel your walls squeezing around him, and he chokes on another moan as he drills into you. you’re both nearly ready to explode, and the added pressure of his hand between your legs helps build the wave.

“m’close—shittt, keep going.” you demand in between your heavy pants.

“taking my dick so well, princess. wanna see you cum all over me.” chris pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, trying to stave off the familiar feeling of his orgasm closing in on him.

his strokes grow sloppier, though he tries his best to keep his pace as you praise him through your teeth. the band in the pit of your stomach is about to break, and it’s so hard to stay standing as you begin to tremble harder.

“oh my god, chris—!” you cry out, muscles tense and eyes screwed shut as you ride out the high.

“fuck yes.” he chants back.

his dick twitches, and he’s unable to hold it back any longer as you finish together. chris slows to a stop and you both shake slightly against each other, which allows him a moment to enjoy being inside of you before pulling out.

you don’t even have a second to think about what comes next before he reaches for the toilet paper to help clean you up. its habit now; he’s always loved caring for you, but he feels even more compelled now that you’re not together.

“i’ve got it.” you mumble quietly, still trying to find a way to speak up.

“let me help—” chris continues on regardless.

suddenly everything is too much, and you know you’re becoming overstimulated in an entirely different way. it feels so familiar, so domestic, and it rips through you like a bullet.

“no! i mean, just…just stop.” you snap, pushing him away so that you can do it yourself.

he puts his hands up, clearly confused by the sudden change in the atmosphere. you can’t blame him, considering you’d gotten just as caught up in the moment as he had.

“what’s wrong?” chris asks, though he’s scared to hear the answer.

“nothing,” you lie, twisting your bottoms back into place so that you can pull your skirt up, “but we shouldn’t have done that.”

he scoffs as he also gets re-dressed. “you didn’t seem to think that five minutes ago when you initiated it.”

you know you hurt him by saying it, but it hurts you even more because it’s the truth. you feel like an idiot for leaning into the temptation; it’s only going to make it all more complicated.

your eyes cloud with moisture as you look at him, and he eases the attitude instantly. the energy has once again shifted, and chris can visibly see the dismay written on your face.

“it was stupid because it doesn’t change anything. this still won’t work and we both know it, and it fucking sucks so much because shit like that only makes it harder to get over you.” your voice breaks pathetically, and you brush the first fallen tear from your cheek.

he takes a step forward, hands stretching out to hold either side of your head. it’s an uncontrollable reaction to seeing you cry.

and he knows it’s egocentric, but the last thing in the world he wants is for you to move on. chris can’t guarantee that you won’t if you’re not together, and he would never interfere if you found happiness elsewhere.

that doesn’t mean he can stand the thought of you finding it with anyone besides him though.

“so don’t get over me. be with me.”

a small sob passes by your lips, which are still raw from earlier. your hand quivers as you place it against his chest gently, forcing some space between you.

his arms drop back to his side in defeat, because he can tell that the physical contact is doing the exact opposite of helping.

“don’t say that. you know it’s not fair, to either of us. we’d just go around in circles, and i won’t let that happen. i won’t ruin all of the good by driving us into the ground.”

chris stills upon hearing this. he’s scared to move, scared to even breathe, because it means the moment will continue and he’ll inevitably watch you walk away.

“please, i’ll do anything. we can move in together, or plan extra trips just the two of us. i’ll…i’ll make the time, just don’t leave.” he pleads, forcibly holding himself back from reaching out for you again.

chris knows it won’t fix anything even as he says it. you’d be coming home to an empty apartment, and finding time to schedule a vacation would be nearly impossible. they’re some of the same things you’ve already talked about, it won’t stop you now.

you suck in a breath, trying to compose yourself to the best of your ability. it doesn’t really help, and you can’t meet his eye as you choke out the final sentence.

“i love you, but i have to go.”

chris feels his mouth open, but the words don’t come out. you turn on your heel without missing another beat, fumbling with the lock a bit before tearing the door open.

you finally hear his response as you go, faintly over your shoulder: it’s quiet confirmation that he loves you too.

@fawnchives @l9vesick @55sturn @luverboychris @teapartyprincess4two @pinksturniolo @mattinside @stonermattsgf @impureals @chrisactualwife @fikefries @riasturns @sofieeeeex @sturnzsun @sturniolossss @coquettecowg1rl @sturnedits

[holmesianlove]

Chapter 1 - Green

“Sherlock!”

The screech came from the bathroom, piercing the peaceful surrounds of Baker Street. Sherlock had been waiting, his supine position on the couch absolutely and entirely for this purpose. He had intentionally opened the newspaper to cover his gleeful smirk.

“Sorry, John. I didn’t hear you. Do you need something?” he asked sweetly. He waited behind his newspaper as he heard the sound of John padding angrily across the apartment, his bare feet slapping along the floorboards. Sherlock remained steadfast in his nonchalance.

The silence extended between them for too long, as Sherlock waited in eager anticipation, until John finally cleared his throat deliberately. Sherlock dropped a corner of the paper, just long enough to see what John was angry about, and then chose to return his paper to its original position.

“Sherlock!” John yelled again, more angrily this time.

Sherlock finally conceded and dropped the paper to his stomach. “What is it John?” he asked, trying his best to sound annoyed. He had waited hours for this, after all, so it wasn’t too much of a stretch.

“I’m green!” John shrieked.

It took all of Sherlock’s best acting skills not to burst out laughing.

“So it seems,” he replied calmly instead.

“So it seems? SO IT SEEMS?!” John roared. “What have you done?”

“I’ve been here reading my paper you can’t possibly…”

“Sherlock!”

Sherlock shoved his paper to the side and threw his legs off the couch to stand up. He moved around John, saving his silent giggles for while he was standing at the back of John, out of view.

“Hmmm interesting…”

“Sherlock,” John moaned.

“This wasn’t the expected outcome, I have to say.”

“I told you. No more experiments!”

“Did you use the …”

John fired him an irritated look. “Whatever you think I used, I clearly did. How else would I be bloody green?”

“Ah.” Sherlock replied simply.

“Ah? AH?! Sherlock! That’s all you can say?” John yelled. “Reverse it.”

“I can’t reverse it,” Sherlock said calmly. “John, you’re entirely green.”

“I KNOW!!” John’s face would have been beet red from anger if he wasn’t already entirely green.

Sherlock finally cracked, the beginning of a laugh bubbling out. He tried to stop it which only made a strangled snorting sound. “Sorry,” he added quickly, trying to straighten his expression.

“I have a date… correction, had a date.”

“Oh, John, I had no idea. I’m sorry,” Sherlock simpered but it wasn’t convincing. John levelled a furious glare at him.

“Perhaps if you try honey?” he suggested.

“Honey?”

“Yes. All over. Cover your face in it.”

John was already starting for the kitchen. “Just honey? That will work?” he asked excitedly.

“Well, I have no idea. It certainly can’t hurt.”

“Sherlock!” John screamed. He stormed back to the lounge shoving the container of honey into Sherlock’s grip, before grabbing his coat and his keys. He pulled the door open angrily.

“John, it’s best not to go out. You are green, after all.”

John pointed at him angrily, unable to speak from his fury. They stood there in silence and then he slammed the door behind him.

John, of course, knew Sherlock was right. He couldn’t leave the house looking like this. But he also wouldn’t give his flatmate the satisfaction of being right, either.

He stormed down to Mrs Hudson’s apartment instead and knocked.

When she opened the door she squealed loudly. Sherlock would know where he was now.

“John!” She cried, then leaned in close to whisper. “I don’t know how to tell you this dear… But… You’re green.”

———

More to come- hopefully each day! Thanks for the December prompt list @notjustamumj

This is my first time ever trying one of these!

[theshortkings]

ᥫ᭡ SWEET AND SALTY — "after returning home from a long day at work, all guest wants to do is sleep. however, his clingy and insatiably horny boyfriend, chance, has other plans in mind. after being denied sex for the night and being told to "figure it out himself," chance takes on the challenge and uses whatever means necessary to please himself."

⺡ word count: 2.6k ~ MDNI | AO3 | chance x guest

content warning armpit kink, mutual masturbation, sweat, perv chance, pit fetish, somnophilia, mildly dubious consent, scent kink, scents & smells, nsfw content, roommates, boyfriends, fetish

an: side note this isn't my thing, i am not into armpit fucking but some of you freaks requested this on twitter so here you go. tbh, i'm kinda getting tired from writing the same vanilla shit 24/7, so expect more content (weird kinks) like this from me in the future!

With a dry swallow, Chance stirs in his sleep. Groggily awakening in the brisk middle of the night, he instinctively reaches out, expecting to find the man of his dreams resting soundlessly beside him; instead, he’s met with the unsettling feel of neatly arranged covers, still untouched and cool. A wave of disorientation washes over him, but as doubt begins to creep in, he hears a soft sound from across the room. The darkness fogs the moonlit surroundings, making it nearly impossible to discern the faint silhouette lurking among the shadows. The air is thick with a heavy musk, a blend of damp earth and something more primal, as the figure shifts, letting out a deep groan as a layer of clothing is shed into the wooden floorboards. As he settles beside the other, the weight of their shared solitude hangs in the unmoving air.

After a long, exhausting day at work, all Guest craves is the comfort of sleep. But, lo and behold, before he could begin to drift into the realm of sweet seclusion, his boyfriend had already been alerted to his presence, wrapping his arms snuggly around his chest and squeezing his pecs together in a lewd, unsightly manner. The warmth of the embrace was inviting, yet it also felt like an obligation; his boyfriend's need for closeness clashed with his own yearning for peace. 

The weary Guest felt the warm, damp breath on the back of his neck, a sensation both unnerving and intimate, reminiscent of a wolf that has just cornered its unsuspecting prey. There isn't a moment's peace before he’s caught helplessly in a snare.

In this position, with Chance wrapping his arms around him from behind, a rush of warmth surges through him. It’s impossible to ignore the prick jabbing at his lower half, a subtle gesture that tenses his fatigued muscles.

“Aye, quit rubbing that thing on me like a damn dog in heat,” Guest snaps, his voice edged with barely contained anger, the tension rippling through his words. Chance, undeterred, leans in closer, his breath tickling Guest’s ear as he whispers with a teasing lilt, “Well, that’s no way to greet your hubby, now is it?” With a playful smirk, Chance presses his body flush against Guest’s, their forms melding together as he pulls him back, their closeness amplifying the friction between them.

A chill rushes down the nodding man’s spine as a tentative kiss is placed on the back of his neck, which makes a field of goosebumps arise from the sudden placement of skin on lips. 

Guest isn't in the mood to fuck, exhausted to the point of nearly passing out, he might as well surrender to sleep in the heat of lovemaking. 

However, Chance is actively fighting against this wave of his fatigue, doing what he does best, being a stubborn thorn in Guest’s side; literally. Every fiber of his partner's being is alive with desire, his cock as hard as stone and yearning for the warmth and intimacy of skin against skin. His thoughts swirl in a delicious haze of lust, and he only has one motive on his mind. 

Guest lets out an annoyed groan; being used as a hump pillow isn’t exactly the most desired position in the world, especially while being held captive by his boyfriend’s firm grip and persistent dick.

“Just once, I promise I’ll make it quick,” Chance murmurs, his voice dripping with a sultry charm as he slants closer, his hips gently pushing forward in a tantalizing rhythm. The enticing offer hangs in the air, thick with unspoken promises. However, after a long, stressful day filled with deadlines and responsibilities, Guest lets out a weary sigh, shaking his head. “Take care of it yourself,” he replies curtly with a mix of exhaustion and irritation, his gaze already hazing towards the sanctuary of sleeping off this throbbing migraine. “I’m going to bed.”

And yet, Chance isn't taking that for a sure answer—he needs this. He buries his nose into the nape of his partner, inhaling deeply to capture the captivating, natural musk that never fails to awaken his sense of arousal. As Chance continues to hump into him, his breaths pick up, chest stuttering with small gasps as he uses the perfect curves of Guest’s spine to scratch his dick on. 

Guest just looks so perfect like this��his back gently arches, a subtle curve showcasing the well-defined muscles that ripple beneath his skin. Each soft exhale is deliberate, as if Guest is savoring the sensation of relaxation washing over him, in contrast to Chance, who is a bundle of fluid hormones. Every heartbeat resounds through him, his arteries pounding like a relentless drum, leaving him on the brink of bliss. The tension builds, and he feels as though he might burst from the pressure, a blood vessel threatening to give way under the strain. He presses a reassuring kiss onto the broadened shoulder blade to soothe the underlying tension. 

“Ah fuck—you have no idea how badly I need you right now,” 

Chance can't help but muse to himself, his hands softly tracing the defined angles that captivate him. The dampness of sweat clung to the palm of his hand, a connection that felt like an echo of their previous shared late-night intimacies. 

He’s thinking about touching him, imagining how it would feel to explore Guest in the way he desires—the way he wants. 

His touch is featherlight against the smooth skin of his boyfriend’s pelvis, a delicate caress that speaks volumes in the silence between them. Once, their bodies intertwined seamlessly, but now, that closeness has dissipated, leaving a disquieting chill hanging in the air like an unsettling melody. The warmth that once bound them fades away. 

“You're not sleepin’ already, right?” Chance asks, straddling the bedsheets—keeping his legs hooked behind him. His heavy cock straining and leaking pre cum, smearing it with his thumb as hands rub up and down that foreskin. Chance could get lost in that musky scent of Guest; the rough feel of his skin.

He strokes his painfully erect cock, circling his thumb over the head and letting out soft moans as the other hand traces the warm contours of his boyfriend's moisten skin. Guest had instructed him to take care of his problem by himself, and that is exactly what Chance intends to do.

“God—you're so fuckin’ hot,” Chance murmurs under a heavy, shaken breath, “and you’re all mine,”

Sure, his hands felt nice and all, but he held a sneaking suspicion that Guest’s body would feel so much better. Chance releases a sound that can only be classified as a whine—he can't suppress it anymore.  

He craves the warmth of human skin-on-skin connection, a comforting embrace that would envelop him entirely. But how could he go about doing so? It wasn’t as simple as waking Guest from his slumber for the sole purpose of satisfying his physical needs. Yet, the thought of disturbing Guest’s peaceful rest made him hesitate. Removing the pants of a sleeping man without being caught would unfortunately be a bitch and a half. So, Chance opts for the next best thing. 

He spreads the leftover pre cum across his now fully attentive stood cock. As the head of his dick glides across Guest’s warm skin, a trail of tingling sensation followed in their wake, sending shivers of pleasure cascading down Chance’s spine. Each deliberate swipe of his hand ignited a spark of warmth, awakening every nerve ending and enveloping them in a cocoon of intimate bliss.

Chance barely even realizes, amidst his delirious state of mind, that he’s begun to chant Guest’s name between harsh grunts. 

He inhales deeply, intoxicated as he keeps bucking against the spinal cord of Guest’s enticing back muscles, his mind too far gone to notice the small huffs that left Guest’s lips, sleep clearly long forgotten by those lewd movements. 

It has all become too much to ignore. Uncoordinated jabs rubbed him raw, and they grew even sloppier as Chance found himself unable to stop. A deep and urgent craving for warmth compelled his every thrust, each movement driven by an instinctual longing that felt almost primal. As he pressed forward, a tightening sensation coiled in the pit of his stomach, growing like an unmanageable knot—a swirling mixture of anticipation and desire that threatened to consume him. 

Just then, Guest shifts, his shoulder blades rolling in an almost suggestive manner, almost as if he’s inviting Chance in, and whatever rational morality he’s been pearl-clutching for the past several minutes now vanishes into dust. And suddenly, giving in to his worst impulses, he snaps. Chance frantically waddles awkwardly on his knees, cock in hand as he gently nudges the tip along the smooth curve of Guest’s underarm, tracing the delicate line where skin meets skin. The warm, intimate space feels inviting, almost electric, igniting a sense of desire within him. The soft texture of armpit fat and sweaty skin contrasts with the subtle contours, creating an alluring channel that beckons him closer.

Chance stares through dewy eyelashes, trying not to make a sound as his dick slides between the constricting folds. 

“M’ gonna give it to you jus’ how you like it babe,” He groans, as the bicep muscles tense around his throbbing hard-on. Unable to restrain himself any longer, Chance bucks himself forward into the warm, wet space between the underarms.

Grunts and groans escape his lips, filling the quietness of the bedroom with the raw sounds of his exertion. He mashes himself deeper, feeling the coarse texture of soft pubic hair brush against his tip, igniting a heightened awareness within him. 

"You're gonna squeeze my dick off at this rate.” It’s tight, unbelievably tight. Beads of sweat lubricate him as a forest of prickly hairs feels like mini toothpicks grazing along his sensitive shaft. The heat stuck to his cock, making him feel humid and damp as he huffs sweet words of encouragement into the still, unresponsive air. 

He moans his boyfriend's name as he slowly and deliberately pumps himself in and out of the slick and sweaty cavity. This is nothing like being inside Guest; it doesn't even come close. But it wasn't necessarily worse either. Chance’s hips smashed against the fatty underarm over and over again, projecting that lewd slapping sound that bounced off the ceiling and walls. 

“ Ah fuck—you're so fuckin’ sexy,” Chance can't deprive that voice of his, so fluid and unrestrained, as if he no longer cares if Guest wakes up. 

The free flow from his lips, so drunk on lust, he doesn't notice the slow hand of his boyfriend deliberately trailing down his body and fiddling with the fly of his pants. 

Guest tightly clamps his eyelids shut, listening to those sweet sounds pouring from his boyfriend's mouth like rich honey. Even though the thought of Chance getting off using his armpit doesn't exactly give him any pleasure whatsoever, the sheer lewdness of the moment and the fact Chance is using him in such a depraved way made his dick stand on edge; he couldn't resist it for long. 

Perhaps deep down, they both allowed their inappropriate thoughts and perverted intentions to take over in the heat of the moment.

“I’ve thought ‘bout fuckin’ you all day… ’m so crazy ‘bout you it hurts,” Chance mutters under his breath. Guest latches his canines into his bottom lip, trying to prevent any unwarranted sounds from slipping out and alerting Chance.

A firm hand wraps around the base of his cock, listening to that sweet symphony that's being performed for him—and him alone. With each slide, each time his cock pokes out the opposing side of his arm there's a high-pitched groan that tumbles from those perfect lips. 

“ Mmn , you feel so incredible against me,” Chance whispers softly, his fingers tracing the sculpted lines and contours of his lover’s perfectly defined physique. The tension in the air is thick with desire, and the faint scent of sweat lingers. As he lies there, the warmth of his body radiates, a mix of masculinity and primal musk that envelops the space between them—it's making Chance feral.

Each curve and dip beneath Chance’s touch ignites a pooling sensation between Guest’s plush thighs, his dick throbbing endlessly with an aching need.

Guest’s fist balls around his eager erection, thumbing at the slit as he makes his way down the shaft; picking up momentum. His hand tightens with each thrust from his perverted partner, squeezing him just how he needs, and fuck it feels good.

Chance is hungry— starving , even. The image of Guest’s perfect hole squeezing him this lewdly has him spiraling. Not caring what part of his boyfriend he fucked as long as it’s him . 

Chance is whining desperately, his white fluids oozing all over the pit as sweat intermingles with pre cum. His voice is becoming increasingly hoarse, strained from the continuous stream of words spilling out as he raves about his partner. He describes, in vivid detail, the sensations that ignite within him, especially as his raw cock brushes against the fine hairs of his partner's armpit—driving him insane . 

“You have no— no fuckin’ idea how much you turn me on.” Chance swipes himself against the swollen lymph nodes, his hips messily slapping with depleting stamina. He’s reaching his limit, and so is Guest.

Stroking his dick at inhuman speeds, trying to match the rhythm of Chance’s thrusts with his own pace. 

“ Huu , ’m gonna cum inside…” Chance assures, and it doesn't take long before his back is arching and grunts betray his vocal cords. A few more pumps and he’s coating his cock with nice, shiny white that oozes like paint streaks down the chest of his “sleeping” lover. 

Chance is immersed in the blissful haze of his high when he suddenly hears it—a low, repressed “mmnh!” rumbling deep within his partner's throat. It’s a sound that ignites a thrill within him, an opening to the raw pleasure they're both striving to reach. As he glances over, he sees the intensity etched on his partner's face, eyes half-closed and brows furrowed in bliss. Both reached their peak together in an intoxicating dance of sensation.

There's a collective silent moment where they’re both trying to catch their breaths, struggling to find composure. 

Chance is still grappling with the uncertainty of what exactly just happened. Fortunately for him, it isn't rocket science to piece together the clues—Guest’s cheeks glow with a faint blush, dusted with a layer of crimson powder that contrasts sharply against his pale skin. Sweat beads heavily on his forehead, trickling down his temples, while he takes deep, labored breaths, each inhale nearly suffocating.

A sly grin curved Chance’s lips, as the realization struck him with the force of a bullet. “Did you just—” he began, excitement creeping into his voice, but he was abruptly cut off by a harsh command. 

“Not a damn word ‘bout this, ya hear?” The intensity in Guest's eyes was unmistakable, a warning layered beneath their gruff tone, leaving no room for argument. And sure enough, Chance isn't complaining.

“You’re so unbelievably hot right now,” Chance murmurs, positioning himself behind Guest. As he wraps his arms around him, their bodies huddled together, warmed by the heat of their fondness and a mix of sweat lingering on their skin. The atmosphere is thick with desire, but neither of them seems to mind. After a few moments of shared closeness and unspoken tension finally melting away, they drift into a deep, comfortable sleep, wrapped in each other’s embrace.

[vikkirosko]

Good day, Vikki. Mind if I request Marinette, Felix, Zoe and (if you're writing about her, if no it's okay) Lila/Cerise/Iris/Whatever the fuck her name is being enemies with Jax!Reader (yeah, partially inspired by those Ulti!Reader, HCs; can be continuation of my Chloe x Jax!Reader request)?

Platonic headcanons Feud with the rude rabbit

🐞 Marinette Dupain-Cheng x male!Reader 🪀

Marinette knew perfectly well that Chloé and you were dating. She would not have paid attention to it, and maybe even would have been happy for you, if not for one small fact. You both didn't let her live in peace. You've teased her before and played little pranks on her and the others, but when you started dating Chloé, the amount of rudeness directed at her from your side seemed to increase. You didn't try to ruin her life like Chloé, but you didn't leave her alone either. Marinette wasn't sure if the reason was your bad temper or if it was Chloé who was pushing you to new rudeness and pranks against her

Chloé often watched you making fun of Marinette and was clearly pleased with it. You often grinned and Marinette tried to ignore you, and when she couldn't, her friends came to her aid, who were always ready to stand up to both you and your girlfriend. You retreated, but that didn't mean you wouldn't return to your work later. At least once a day, you reminded Marinette of yourself and your bad temper, and she gradually began to get used to the fact that you, as if on an internal schedule, irritated her again, although at different times of the day, but you definitely reminded her of yourself

One day, when your girlfriend wasn't by your side, she asked you why you kept doing this. Marinette didn't understand if you really wanted to impress Chloé so much and therefore continued to not let Marinette live in peace. When she said that to you, you looked annoyed. You came closer to her and she tensed, expecting that you were angered by her words and you were going to hit her, but you didn't. You didn't even try to do it. You leaned over to her and said in a calm voice that your girlfriend had nothing to do with it. You just liked creating chaos, it amused you, and if you could amuse yourself and please Chloé, then you weren't going to turn down the opportunity

Sometimes she hoped that you would still find other ways to have fun, but for now you continued to be an annoying guy who gave no peace to anyone. Marinette did not want others to suffer through your fault, so she tried to make sure that your rudeness and pranks did not cause real harm and did not create new villains that she had to face

🐝 Zoé Lee x male!Reader 👟

You met Zoé when you were waiting for your girlfriend. She was looking for her room, and you were just wandering the halls out of boredom and looking for something to do. She bumped into you by accident and hurried to apologize to you. You stood up to your full height, looking at her curiously, and then a smirk appeared on your lips. Zoé wasn't sure why you were smiling like that, but it bothered her. You told her that you didn't resent her at all and left, saying goodbye that you'd see her soon, and for some reason, you called her sis. It wasn't until she found out that you were her stepsister's boyfriend that she realized why you bothered her so much. You weren't much better than Chloé

She understood that you saw that the way she behaved around her mother and stepsister was just acting, but you didn't talk about it. Marinette told her to be careful with you, because you were bothering none of your classmates even before you and Chloé started dating, and when you started dating, it seemed to only get worse. You kept calling her sis, which made Chloé roll her eyes. When Zoé stopped hiding her true nature, her stepsister was just furious about it, and you could barely contain your laughter. But seeing the sinister gleam in your eyes, she realized that the period when she avoided your taunts and pranks was over, exactly from the moment her acting ended

You kept calling her sis, and it became a well-established nickname for her, but it was the only thing that remained the same. She, like the others, was the victim of your ridicule. Chloé obviously liked it, but you were also more focused on your own fun rather than pleasing your girlfriend. Pranks and taunts were still your personal outlet. Zoé didn't understand why you were like that. She might still understand if your girlfriend was the reason for this, but you've been like this before, which means it was solely you. You found it fun to annoy and scare others, and there wasn't much others could do about it

You often bumped into each other at the hotel when you visited Chloé. It seemed inevitable to her, but Zoé didn't want to antagonize you. She wanted to believe that somewhere behind the prickly mask there was a kinder nature that you hid from everyone. She didn't know if she was right or if you were just an unpleasant person, but for now she continued to keep her distance from you so as not to provoke your new ridicule of her

🦚 Félix Fathom x male!Reader 👔

Félix met you when he pretended to be his cousin again. He expected that he would be able to trick you, just like everyone else, but you stopped and frowned at him. You asked him directly who he was. Your words surprised him, but he continued to try to play his part, even though he understood that you had already figured him out. It was only the fact that you were distracted by a phone call that helped him get away. But pretty quickly he found out that you were far from the most pleasant person, and every time you bumped into him, you showed it, not forgetting to remind him of your first meeting

You didn't really care why Félix was pretending to be Adrien. You didn't have any warm feelings for any of them, and you weren't going to give him any peace. You were still sharp and rude, but he wasn't going to be nice to you either. During your conversation, he showed his character without worrying about anything, and it made you grin. It's like you've finally found a worthy opponent who, unlike the others, rarely tried to stand up to you, especially when Chloé was around. It was your girlfriend who told you more about him, and you just couldn't help but take a small advantage in your battle that had begun

You didn't see each other that often, which seemed to upset you a little. Chloé obviously didn't like him, and you watched with interest how indignant she was when you mentioned him. She compared him to his cousin, but at this point you usually interrupted her, not having the slightest desire to listen to her stories about Adrien. You didn't like to hear about him, especially when you remembered the time when she was in love with him. It would seem that it was quite obvious, and Félix took advantage of it in your clashes and drove you crazy with it

Perhaps if you had seen each other more often, your confrontation would have been more serious, but so far you have seen each other quite rarely due to the fact that he lived in another country. But every time you did see him, you weren't going to leave him alone no matter what. Not a single meeting of yours was complete without an exchange of barbs, and no one could stop you from doing so

🦊 Cerise Bianca x male!Reader 🎬

When you first met Cerise, she introduced herself to you all as Lila. You didn't like her at first sight. You felt how fake she was, and looking at how she surrounded herself with others, you realized that you were not mistaken. She saw that you didn't believe a single word she said, and if you were on better terms with your classmates, it might have been a problem for her, but you didn't let anyone rest with your barbs, so she made it look like you just found a new victim for your rude words and pranks. You didn't try to convince the others of this, seeing no point in it, but you weren't going to leave her alone either. She annoyed you with how fake she was

When she left school, you doubted very much that even one word of her reason was true. But you weren't going to get hung up on her. You had much more important things to do. This continued until she reappeared. But seeing your grin, Cerise tensed up. She had no idea that you had noticed her several times during your walks around the city. This once again confirmed your idea that her words were a lie. You asked Chloé to stay away from her, but she herself was not against it, experiencing irritation similar to yours. But you weren't going to leave Cerise alone

Every time you bumped into her, you didn't miss the opportunity to say something sarcastic to her, and she was polite, playing the victim, not going to admit that you found out more about her than she would like. But sometimes she started making eye contact with you when she was a different person. You didn't care how many people she was cheating on, but you weren't just going to overlook the fact that she was trying to cheat on you. Even when she and your girlfriend were temporarily on the same side, you weren't going to treat her any better, and it was definitely mutual

Frankly, you didn't care what her name was, what her reasons for lying were, or what she wanted to do. For you, she was the one you bothered with your barbs and rudeness, even when she stopped showing up at school. Every time you ran into each other in the city, it was like you couldn't let her go without telling her something unpleasant. She wasn't going to give up so easily and continued to play her role. For both of you, it was a confrontation in which neither you nor she were going to lose

[iluvdragons0740]

Bad Sansuary day 6: restrained (feat. Dust)

I am using a little OC of mine for this, since I think she really fits the Bad Sanses (ahem she's crazy ahem). We're in a scenario where she's been with the gang for a while now. There is no romanticism in this, I think it'll mainly be her interacting with the gang following the prompts. It's also a weird mix of canon and fanon. I tried my best, but beware of the cringe >_<

I tried to mess around with Ashes' pov with this one

Bad Sansuary belongs to @owl-bones

Dust belongs to @ask-dusttale

Ashes belongs to me

The voices were at it again. Twisting, whispering, screaming and screeching into her ears, pulling at the broken fragments of her mind now that she was at her weakest. Ashes felt a laugh bubbling up in her throat, a gurgling feeling in her mouth as she half coughed half giggled and a drop of blood fell from her mouth and onto the dusty floor of the dungeon she found herself in. Chains pulled heavily where they closed around her wrists and ankles, rattling as she moved and wiped the blood away from her mouth. She knew something was broken inside her, but she chose to ignore that and focused the energies that were slowly coming back to her to instead hear something above the whispers and examine the surroundings.

She couldn't remember how she got here. Which was strange, but not unusual since she always locked away the memories that found a way to hunt her. She shivered, observing the shadows and seeing them writhe. She knew He was watching. She knew that whatever lesson He decided to teach her this time would remain forever marked into her broken mind and soul, making sure she never disobeyed or displeased Him again. The god to which she sold her soul made sure His broken vessel would always be the perfect puppet to spread chaos and wreak havoc, and even though her mind was torn and her fear was taken away she still knew better than to annoy Him. She didn't fear Nightmare, or Error, or any other person she ever met, but she feared Him.

She strayed away from that trail of thoughts and registered that she was in a cell in the castle's dungeons, heavy chains not only around her wrists and ankles but also around her neck, and she could feel the effects of some kind of sedative wearing off. The cell wasn't very large, barely able to contain a person, and the bars were directly in front of her. She must've snapped pretty bad if the others decided to lock her away in here. She had to say, it was really impressive that they even managed to take her here. She thought about how to free herself, and started twisting her arm to get it out of the restraints, losing the will midway through as she just wanted to see if she could break her own bones like this.

She heard a noise as she was immediately distracted and she raised her head, seeing two cyan and red eyelights and the weight of a thousand souls staring back at her. She smiled and dropped her arm to the ground, completely captured by the skeleton in front of her now instead. Now this was an interesting sight.

"Lookie here who it is, the silent soul! Having fun watching the freak in her cage?"

He didn't answer, as always. He was always the funniest to mess around, his logic brain always struggled to catch up to her madness and she knew it, making sure to be as unpredictable as possible around him to plant the seeds of confusion. Confusion led to fear, fear led to anger, and once there was enough anger things easily spiraled out of control and Ashes could say to have reached her goal. She knew he didn't trust her one bit, and she got proof of that in a situation similar to this some time before. It was indeed fun to see him, of all people, to snap. Fun indeed.

"Come on, step forward and speak to me, I promise I don't bite~"

He didn't step forward, but he said something.

"Do you remember anything that happened?"

She tilted her head, deciding to mess around with him for a while yet.

"Mmmmaybe, mmmmaybe not, what do you say?"

She could basically feel his frustration now.

"You had a mental breakdown. Boss tried to snap you out of it, but you snapped at him instead and you two fought."

Ashes put up an expression of fake surprise.

"Really?! That's why I feel like I was hit by a truck then!"

That was a lie, Ashes couldn't feel anything, but she thought it would be appropriate to say.

"He messed you up real bad"

Ashes wondered how much of that victory was really because of Nightmare's skills in combat, and how much of it had to do with Ashes not really being at her peak, Nightmare's powers to get whatever negativity she was feeling out of her and his immortality. She doubted she would've left anyone alive, especially if that someone was the Guardian of Negativity and his death would damage the balance of emotions greatly causing chaos in the universe. Sure, she wanted to have fun with this one, but she wasn't herself when she fought.

On an unrelated side note, she wondered how many of the voices were real souls and how many fragments of her broken mind.

She was snapped back into focus as Dust spoke up again

"You were fighting like a beast"

She giggled, smile widening a little. Of course he would say that. She could feel the question behind those eyes, but he didn't realize he fell into a trap as well.

"Mhhhhhhh, I suppose I did. Would've been fun to watch, but I suppose I don't get to. After all..."

She raised her head, eyes and smile devoid of any emotion.

"You know how these kind of things work, don't you Dust?~"

She saw him tense up. She watched as he tightened his fists, then stuffed his hands inside his hoodie. She stared and he stared back.

It was during one of his LV crisis. She had walked in to it, and purposely guided him out of his room and made him attack Horror. Eventually Nightmare stepped in, he knocked Dist out and locked him in the dungeon as well to avoid any other incident like that. No one knew Ashes caused everything and Dust didn't remember, but it was always fun to remember Dust about it. At the time, she was the one watching from outside of the bars.

Her chains rattled again, as she moved into a standing position and got to the bars, gripping them and pressing against them.

"C'mon, silly. You wanted to talk with me, you can talk. Or do you have better things to do?"

She saw him hesitate. She saw him pull his hood higher up. She watched him walk away, his footsteps echoing in the dungeons.

And she was left alone again.

[fallenwhumpee]

Induced drug addiction/withdrawal whump for information or just cause whumper is a sadist

This is a good one. Please enjoy <3

Stop

• Masterlist •

Warnings: Drugging, restrains, withdrawal.

Whumpee whimpered when their head fell, their neck aching. They were tired of fighting the binds, their body too worn out to get it loosened anyway. They couldn't see around themselves, but they knew they were still in that interrogation room.

In the dark, they could barely choose the chair and table in front of them, a line going up at their side.

No, not this again.

Whumpee tried to control their reaction, another bag hanging over their head. Whumpee shuddered involuntarily, thinking whatever Whumper had decided to dump into their blood.

Whumpee hissed when the lights opened in the interrogation room, their eyes unused to the brightness even though it was dim. They didn't need to look to know who came.

Footsteps echoed behind them, and they tried their best to appear still.

They heard Whumper pull the chair and sit in front of them with solid steps. Whumpee kept still, their head down. Maybe Whumper would just think they were asleep. It was for their own good that their body also froze.

"I know you're awake."

Whumpee gulped but didn't move.

"I don't have all day, you know."

Whumper pushed their chair back, Whumpee unable to contain their little scream when the air knocked out of their lungs with the impact.

Whumpee pulled them back up with the chair from their collar. Whumpee didn't let the cry bubbling on their throat out, not wishing to anger Whumper.

"I will ask you nicely for one last time. Tell me where your base is."

"No," Whumpee breathed out. They were tired of telling this.

"Then everything going to happen is your fault, then. I warned you."

Whumper motioned to the one-sided glass, a guard changing their IV.

"That's my usual mix," Whumper smiled. "You've been having it for... three months now? The time passes too quickly. Despite playing with the little drugs I choose for you, this was the only one I gave you consistently. Think of it as my final try before I get rid of you. Your team has been so annoying, but your corpse will be enough to shut them up."

Whumpee's eyes watered. Their team was still looking for them. Their friends were still hopeful of them. They weeped with the thought a little, and Whumper smiled as they mistook it with fear— which Whumpee exploited to the last drop. They knew they weren't supposed to get this emotional about only one sentence. They knew there were no doubts about their team just abandoning them, but Whumpee hadn't been in control of their own emotions lately.

Whumpee soon felt a little more tired than before, but it was expected with everything. They didn't want to get to a conclusion so quickly— they weren't sure if it was because of their thoughts or the liquid messing with them. They couldn't just trust their mind.

With just Whumper watching them, they calmed their weeping, not sure what's going to happen after. They started to count the seconda instead, not wishing their focus to slip while they were in the range of the enemy. They had already shown enough vulnerability.

"Maybe you should see how much you hold out, too," Whumper said with a sickening smile as they took off their watch, hanging it mext to the IV. "For comparison, you stood three days before the seizures started after the truth serum wore off. And it was just a mild coctail, given to you for what? One mont? I didn't want you to go into shock on the spot. But it seems like I underestimated how much you can resist."

Whumpee bit their tongue, Whumper touring the room a few times before coming next to them.

They knew they were supposed to panic. But their body didn't listen to them, failing to even struggle as Whumper tore the IV from their arm.

"Now I'm done here, have fun," they chirped, leaving with the empty IV bag.

Whumpee hated isolation. They had never been alone for long. They had their team. They had Caretaker. People who loved them. But at that moment, none of it mattered.

They were alone.

And it just felt so cold, their body starting to tremble when they noticed how long had passed— only three hours.

A laughter took over them. This was pathetic. They were feeling awful just because they weren't hooked up to a mysterious liquid. It didn't take long for their laughter to turn into sobs.

Whumpee tried to restrain their sobs, their breaths hitching. They could feel all the fear and pain and nervousness of the situation come, and their will finally gave up. They wanted this to stop.

They didn't know how long they could hold out.

Whumpee had never guessed that Whumper could be this cruel. But Whumpee should have known. Their whole team had told them that Whumper was evil. Whumpee had been careless. This was their fault, and they were living the consequences.

Anger and frustration were the only things they could hold onto. They trashed in the chair, not able to do more than inbalancing themselves.

Then they just stopped. It was enough. Whumpee had enough.

Whumpee stilled, holding their ragged breaths. Soon, the footsteps came, and Whumpee tensed involuntarily.

"Having fun?" Whumper went in cheerfully.

"Stop this," Whumpee begged for the first time, tear cracks still burning despite it had been a long while since they stopped crying.

"Ah, no. We just started. Now, will you talk, or do I get to play with my toys?"

[indooroccupation]

I’m overwhelmed with the desire to create. Thing is, I have two methods of doing this. Drawing, the go-to, I guess, and music, specifically drums. Two contradicting forms of art, I feel. I think these two art forms perfectly describe me as a person. Two halves that both mix, and… well, don’t. It’s a little hard to explain how I feel about this. Anyways, that wasn’t even the main point I wanted to make. I’m experiencing emotions that just can’t be contained with drawing anymore. The quiet option, the passive option. I don’t have a proper, quiet outlet for these emotions, it’s bubbled up and I need to hit something. That’s what’s nice about drumming, I think. There are times I feel angry, and I feel anger in my hands. I don’t exactly feel angry right now, it’s complicated. It’s a mix of colors, ones that have mixed into an ugly brown. There’s anger in there, anger for myself, mostly. But back on my previous topic, sorry. You’d think the obvious solution for this weird gross color of emotions is to hit something, like a snare or a crash cymbal. Thing is, I don’t have access to those things at the moment. Which SUCKS. The shaking in my hands is getting worse and without that outlet I don’t know what to do. Drawing barely helps it anymore. I think it makes it worse, maybe that’s because of some selfish sort of desire to share emotion centered artwork, put my feelings on display for someone. I think about that all the time, but the thought of proceeding with that? Makes me nauseous. Opening up makes me nauseous. Writing is sort of helping though, so I’ll keep writing. I’ve been thinking about that a lot, I guess. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to uh. Put myself out there fully. I’m bad at sharing, constantly doubting every letter I type out and every word that leaves my lips. I can’t do it properly without feeling horrible about it. At the same time, I feel like a human journal or a memory card. I just… listen. And I should be fine with that, everything I say is inferior to whatever anybody wants to say to me. After all, in no circumstance should I come first. This isn’t pitying, it’s not supposed to be. It’s just a rule I make for myself. I force this onto myself, and I’m actively aware of it when I speak to people. So if I’m the one making that rule, why am I so upset about it? Why am I constantly wishing for, I don’t know, someone to ask. Someone to interrogate, someone who WANTS to know. Someone who’s interested. I mean, Kai does this sometimes, nikolai, fane, kellin, whatever the hell he goes by now. I’m not even sure. He asked me ‘why don’t you let people care about you?’ And I… didn’t know how to answer that. I still don’t, not really. I could never force somebody to check in on an unstable wreck that’s silently begging for attention like they’re some sort of stray dog. Like jeez, can you be ANY MORE annoying about it. I feel like I’m constantly pushing the ‘hey I’m fucking mental please give me affection’ onto people and I really hate it. I try not to, but maybe I’m doing it on accident. Maybe I really haven’t changed all that much. Fane thinks I’m sweet, which is very kind of him. He’s the best thing that could’ve happened to Lance. Lance. Not me. I guess I TECHNICALLY am Lance, but he’s odd. Someone I don’t want to associate myself with anymore. Maybe that’s why as much as I miss fane, as much as I love him, it feels wrong. Like I’m wrong, like I’m doing something wrong. I shouldn’t have gotten back into contact with him. He talks about how much he misses some chick who’s not me anyways, and I comfort him through those heartbroken episodes he has even though it literally feels like the arrow still lodged in my chest is being ripped out and I’m being stabbed with it a million times over. I don’t know, it’s odd. But he said he still likes me, which is the best I’m gonna fucking get, I suppose. I wish I could actually get out and meet some people, meet someone who could actually like someone like me. I don’t know how possible that is, but I’m sure it’s not IMpossible… maybe… I just reached the max word limit thing help

[dzthenerd490]

Tales: Indestructible Friends

SCP-682 was tired, there was no acid, yet he was tired. No one shooting him, no one burning his flesh, electrifying his insides, or put a bomb in his stomach and pulled the trigger but damn it all he was tired. The little vermin managed to punch bits of his flesh off which really hurt and was surprising given how strong it was. It wasn’t human so maybe he shouldn’t have been that surprised, but it was still weird nonetheless given how small it was. 

“Are you finally done?” SCP-682 growled in anger as he moved his head to look at his back, on his back was a torso and a head, both of ripped skin, exposed muscle, scraped out eyes, and what remained barely held itself together. 

“Why the fuck are you not dead yet?”

“... I wouldn’t know either. I don’t seem to be able to die anymore.”

“Anymore?”

“I was normal once, now I’m not. Don’t know what they did to me nor why.”

“Save it, I don't care.”

“That’s mean.”

“I care even less about that.”

“... Why do you hate humans?”

“What’s there to like about them?”

“What do you mean? You helped create them.” SCP-682’s eyes widened in shock then in anger as he turned to the torn up carcass talking to him.

“Sorry, it's just something I can do, I can read minds when I make physical contact with someone so I saw that-” SCP-682 then grabbed the remains of the carcass and threw it other the wall, then tentacles formed from his back to pick it up and throw it to another wall. Then another, and another and more until there was nothing but a head. 

“YOU DON’T KNOW SHIT ABOUT SHIT!”

“... I know you regret your decision… when you shouldn’t.”

“I literally fucked up everything when I made that stupid fruit.” “But if you hadn’t nothing that exists today wouldn’t.”

“I wish you didn’t exist, I wish none of this existed! It’s all garbage! Everything is just shit! Crumby shit! Smelly shit! Stupid shit! It's all just shit!”

“But why do you think that?” SCP-682 walked over to the crushed head and growled at it. 

“Why do you insist on talking about it?”

“Because you're hurt and I don’t want you to be hurt.”

“... Are you really that fucking stupid? I literally tore you to pieces and I know you can feel pain so why the hell would you care about how I feel?”

“Like I said, you're the reason I exist and for that I’m grateful. My mother always said to be grateful for those who helped you and you did. Even if indirectly.”

“Your mother is nothing more that an rotting piece of shit now and your a fucking idiot to be grateful to me!”

“... I still want to help you.”

“Ugh, god you're annoying, why?!”

“Because like me you're trapped here. Like me you hate the Foundation.”

“Everyone hates the fucking Foundation, even the staff here hate this fucking place.”

“That's why things should change.”

“You can’t change it, no one can.”

“I’ll be happy to prove you wrong, I’ll do whatever it takes to-”

“That's enough.” Suddenly both became quiet as the intercom came on.

“This test is over, SCP-682, please place SCP-AAA onto the extraction platform at once.” A platform then descended from the ceiling and lowered into the testing chamber the two of them were in. 

“I don’t need to remind you what happens when you don’t comply right?”

“Whatever.” SCP-682 then made a tendril with his flesh, grabbed the head of the carcass, and placed it onto the platform. It then ascended leaving SCP-682 completely alone. 

“I do hope we can meet again, I do like talking to you at least!” Then the platform reached the surface and SCP-AAA was officially gone. 

SCP-682 just scoffed at that remark but then he relaxed as soon as the acid started flowing back into his containment cell. Granted it burned his flesh all the same but off all the tortures the shitty Foundation had for him it was one he was most used to. He did hate that particular ape just as much as the others yet something about it was different. In fact, it was almost close to what he experienced with… little Lanie. SCP-682 became agitated as he just experienced a new feeling, or not exactly a new feeling but perhaps something he hadn’t felt since his father tore him to pieces. 

“I… miss Lanie?”

.

SCP: HMF Tales Hub

[vipier-a]

∗ 87﹕ sender  shows  receiver  evidence  of  a  lie  they  told . 👀

TRISTAN CAN TELL HE’S FUCKED SIMPLY BY THE STEELY LOOK IN CASSIAN’S EYE FROM ACROSS THE ROOM. they’ve been estranged for a while, so far from each other that they believed the other irrevocably lost, but still he knows what @k4ssa’s expressions mean, still he can read his face, his hands, even the smallest adjustments in his posture. it should be a comfort ; this evening, it feels incriminating. the blast door to the captain’s quarters hisses shut behind him, muffling the sounds of voices drifting in from the common area of the ship. the sudden near-silence, the quiet anger boiling in the space between them, melts into tristan’s bones as he stands there, unyielding, as though cassian’s unblinking stare does not feel ice cold, chilling his very bones. the offending item hangs pinched between cass’s thumb and forefinger, a familiar little bag containing a bright purple material tris certainly recognizes well : gree spice.

maybe he shouldn’t have it at all. maybe he’d promised he wouldn’t keep any of the stuff, that he was done with it, now that he wasn’t running it anymore. maybe he’d also decided that cassian wasn’t his fucking keeper after all, that after everything they’d done, after all the ugliness between them, he wasn’t going to simply roll over and let whatever new version this was of cass tell him what to do. what does he care if tris uses a little of it on occasion, recreationally? he deserves an occasional little boost of joy and power. his jobs certainly provide none of it and, given the current state of things, it’s not as though he is guaranteed much in the way of either between them. maybe they’re back to sharing a cot, maybe they’ve fallen to the temptation of indulging in each other’s bodies again — but the climate remains unpredictable, sometimes welcoming and sometimes frigid, their walls as firmly in place as possible, given that nobody knows them better than each other. maybe that’s how cassian knew to look for the damn stuff in the first place, knew where to find it. all his life, tristan has remained an intentional mystery to everyone else in the galaxy, but andor decoded him years ago, and as infuriating as it is, there’s no turning back from that now.

“ so, what, you’re going through my shit now? trying to show me what it would have been like to have parents or something? actually, thanks, I feel loads better about being an orphan now because this is fucking annoying. ” somehow, tris’s tone hovers somewhere between casual and annoyed. as he speaks, he strips off his jacket, tossing it over his duffle in the corner, packed and ready at a moment’s notice for his next departure. next comes the shirt, revealing a litany of newer scars along his torso they haven’t discussed aloud, yet for which they both know cass certainly wasn’t present. he can still feel the other man’s disapproving, simmering stare on him, and without looking, tris rolls his eyes. “ fine. what do you want me to say? I said I wouldn’t and I did. you win, congratulations. that make you feel better, cassian? ”

he turns then, bare chested, expression half bored, as though utterly unbothered by the entire situation. the annoyance — the anger at the blatant invasion of privacy — is rising to a boil within him, though its progress is slow enough to still be stopped, depending on how the rest of this conversation goes.

“ is that all? ” he tilts his head, quirking a brow, appearing for all the world as if the issue could not possibly matter less to him. frankly, he’s still not even sure how angry cass is with him for having it in the first place, whether it’s really the lie rather than the spice which offended more greatly, whether it’s really tristan’s cavalier yet defensive response that will really set things off. but for the things about him which have changed since departing ferrix three years ago, one of them certainly is not that he’s lost his practically pathological desire to needle, to press his fingers into wounds better left alone. “ or do you have some other grievance you suddenly think we need to talk about? because I need a shower and don’t have the patience to stand here and talk about my personal habits that are none of your fucking concern. grow up, cass, it’s just a little spice. ”

[the-consortium]

A message is carried by a small and brightly colored bird-like daemon, addressed for Fabius. The daemon presents the message to whomever is willing to take him to Fabius, then asks to see the Chief Apothecary himself, saying the message is urgent and "pretty important".

The message itself is contained within a small leather tube that is hung around the bird's throat. Anyone who tries to read it and is not Fabius, the daemon threatens with a small knife, and says that he was told this was for his eyes only.

The note reads;

Apothecary Fabius,

Your extensive knowledge regarding the biology of staggering number of organisms is more than well known. I request the assistance of one with your knowledge, for it seems as though my personal expertise is not enough.

I would ask that you lend some assistance in the rewilding of Prospero. I can send whatever resources that you may need, should you accept. In terms of payment, you may name your price, and I will see if I can comply.

The daemon I have sent this with, Kazakh, can return any response you may have that is forthcoming. He can also answer a few questions, should you have any. Any that he cannot answer, I am more than happy to do so.

Yours,

Magnus the Red

The dusty yellow brightness that functions as a sunny afternoon on Urum makes Saqqara's dark skin glow golden. He sits with closed eyes at an open balcony high in one of the towers swaying barely perceptibly in nonexistent wind. He is naked and has added a few bloody paragraphs from Lorgar's writings to his tattoos to cement his connection to the Immaterium. He sits in a lotus position, his hands resting open palms on his muscular thighs. The Armour-ports above his wrists press into the flesh and the slight pain is welcome. None of the gods reward comfort or complacency. The air is filled with the screeching of mutant birds nesting a few towers away, which never seem to diminish despite Arrian and Igori's devoted hunting. Saqqara takes a deep breath, letting the dark swirls of the world above roam around him. When suddenly the cries of the birds take on a different tone. Something that does not belong here and that is not the usual hunters has startled them. Saqqara does not open his eyes yet, but reaches for his khantanka dagger, which lies beside him on the folded robe. There is also a belt with a few of his bottles there and the diabolist can feel some of them getting more agitated now. He smiles. Whispers "Welcome, messenger of the mysterious." Then he extends his hand.

Half an hour later, Saqqara can once again indulge in the innocent pleasure of annoying Fabius with demonic presence. Tzeentch's shard has coiled itself around the Word Bearer's torso and right arm, now and then digging its pointed teeth devotedly into his shoulder. Saqqara ruffles the demon's feathery reptilian head, watching Fabius' eyebrows raise higher and higher as he reads the message. "So, will you accept this honor?" Saqqara smiles broadly. Fabius growls unwillingly. Hisses, "What do I have to do to get you to finally stop reading my correspondence? Remove your eyes?" Saqqara just shrugs, aware of his position as a useful employee, but still takes a step out of the chirurgeon's reach as a precaution. Fabius takes a deep breath. Looks piercingly at the little demon. The effect is diminished a bit, as he can't decide which of the many eyes are the main ones. "So there you go, your master has an entire ecosystem to repopulate. Of course, that's not uninteresting, I admit. Especially when you consider the special conditions with the background radiation of the warp. Of course, that raises quite a few questions up front! So, listen carefully, you disgusting little monster!" As always, Fabius can't help venting his anger at anything to do with the gods. The fact that he abandons his caution when it comes to negotiating with primarchs shows how much this task flatters and excites him. "So, ask your master how early to start this project in terms of development of species - is he willing to allow a natural evolution that will change species and certainly wipe some out? I know our esteemed fathers have a problem with not interfering with things. But a functioning biome needs freedoms. Needs the possibility of failure so that the optimum really does prevail. So, can he hold his hands still if he has to? And is he willing to accept loss if species he created cannot evolve? This is not just a question - this is also my price. A free hand in the things that are important to me. Neither Magnus nor I are masters of compromise. So this is going to be difficult. Still - how free am I in my actions? My price is the greatest possible freedom. What does he offer me of that?"

[hertzwritings]

Cave in

A/N: Here’s the first one shot from my promptlist! I hope y’all will enjoy it, because I sure as hell loved writing it!

Prompt: “Don’t flatter yourself, I’m only here for the cake”

You can buy me a coffee here, and I’ll write you a personalized drabble, one shot or multichapter fic, with whatever you want in it!

Remember, feedback feeds the soul (mine in particular) and my requests – and askbox – are always open – there’s no limits because I am me, and I have none!

 MASTERLIST

PROMPTLIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Plus sized!Female reader

Contains: Language, enemies to lovers, slight smut (18+ MINORS DNI), thigh riding, slight dirty talk, slight praise kink 

W.C.: 2.415

 Caved in

  It wasn’t your first choice to spend the evening – which, by the way, was the first day off you’d had in just around three weeks – left to your own devices at a random VIP party, your best friend had dragged you to.

You barely knew anyone, the drinks were terrible, and you felt too big, like you took up too much space with your body, to belong. A few sneers had already come your way, and you didn’t know why on earth she’d want you here.

You leaned against the table you had planted yourself at, sipping your god-awful drink slowly, trying to look like you belong.

 Which you didn’t, in your opinion.

You caught the azure-blue eyes of a certain man, you had hoped you wouldn’t meet and groaned under your breath. Perfect, really. Of course, he’d be here.  He cocked an eyebrow at you, which you returned with a tightlipped smile, tipping your glass to him.

Where the hell was Loes? She had run off, spotting a friend somewhere in the crowd with a hurried I’ll be right back – which was an hour ago. You were pretty sure she’d managed to land herself in a bathroom, probably with Sebastian Stan, if she had anything to say about it, and that left you alone for an unforeseeable future.

You texted her quickly, not really hoping for a response. She was probably balls deep at this point, which you did find impressive. Good for her, really.

 “I didn’t expect you to show up here.” His voice sent shivers down your spine, and you rolled your eyes. Motherfucking Henry Cavill. You turned around with a smile, that most definitely didn’t reach your eyes. “Hello to you, too.” He looked good, great, even. It was downright annoying. He was handsome as ever, his brown locks perfectly laid back, his suit fitting wonderfully over his chest and arms; you didn’t even have to look to know, that his pants were like glued to his thighs.

“Waiting for me?” There it was - the goddamn attitude. He always seemed to be better than anyone around him – except for when he was around Loes, who managed to ground her best friend. To you, he was insufferable and deeply egocentric – he never even tried to get along with you, despite your efforts. He always did the face, where his stupid eyebrow cocked up, a slight smirk played on his lips and his eyes ran up and down your body as if he was asking and what do you think you are? It was annoying at best, at worst? It was enough to make you crumble a little. It hadn’t been better after you heard part of a conversation between him and Loes one night.

“Her body…” “Henry, you’re disgusting.” It was more than enough for you to know how he felt about you. That, paired with the way he looked at you, made you feel annoyingly small and seething with anger, every time you saw his stupid face. It was shitty, mostly because you honestly had tried to get along with him – Loes was your best friend and his, and you did quite like the way he looked. Also, the way he talked to people was nice – just not directed at you.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I’m only here for cake.” You spat. “Not surprising.” You narrowed your eyes at him, and something flashed in his eyes – guilt, maybe? – and you sneered at him. “What the fuck is your problem? Are you kidding me? We’ve known each other for a year, and you’re acting like I cut off your big toe or some shit. Try being a polite person, next time, asshole.” You pushed yourself from the table, gathered your things, tears burning in your eyes. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry, so you rushed from the venue, standing outside and lit up a cigarette while texting Loes that you felt sick and wanted to go home. “Y/N, wait!” You sighed and closed your eyes. “I seriously do not want to talk to you, Henry. Can we just… Like… Not like each other from a distance?” You asked defeatedly, taking a drag of your cigarette. “Can I have one?” He asked, pointing to the pack in your hand. You rolled your eyes, but gave him one, anyway. “Didn’t take you for a smoker.” He chuckled at that and lit up his own cigarette, puffing the smoke out with a content sigh. “Shouldn’t be, really. Only in certain situations.” “Same. Anyway, good to get insulted by you yet again, I’ll go now.” You began to walk, but he grabbed your elbow, holding you in place. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you.” You huffed. “Sure, Henry. Listen, I’ll be nice around you, so Loes won’t have to pick between us, but I’m not here for your amusement or for you to look down on. I’m a person, and I do have a sliver of self-respect left in me.” You said, cocking your eyebrow at him. “I… When have I insulted you?” He asked, genuinely confused. “Are you fucking kidding me?” You seethed. “You’ve done nothing but your best to make me feel as small and insignificant as possible, since I met you. You never talk to me, and when you do, it’s laced with hidden insults and jabs. You look at me like I’m dirt under your feet, and you think you haven’t insulted me?” You glared at him. “You’re currently insulting my fucking intelligence, Henry.” He looked taken aback, but his hand didn’t leave your elbow. You stomped on your cigarette. “Let me go.” “No. Hang on, you can’t just say all that and then expect me to not retort.” “Oh, yes, please let me hear what you have to say about me.” You said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I do so love to hear your innermost thoughts.” “Just… Come here.” He dragged you to an alley and stopped, his hand now on your shoulder, bending down to be eyelevel with you. Fucking tall man.

 “Listen to me.” His eyes searched yours and you glared at him, putting as much venom in your eyes as you could. “I’m truly sorry that I’ve insulted you, and that you think I think of you as lesser.” You snorted. “Oh, come on…” He cut you off. “Seriously. I didn’t mean for that at all. I think you’re a wonderful person, and I would be hard pressed to find something negative about you to say or even think. Except, of course, your vehement hate for me.” His lips slid into a smile. “But I honestly… I never wanted to insult you or make you feel bad.” “That’s rich. You literally just said not surprising when I said I was here for cake, which, by the way, was a lie.” He frowned. “Oh!” He smiled. “No, I didn’t mean anything by that. I thought you knew it was one of the best pastry chefs who made it, that’s why I said it. I truly came here for the cake. No way in hell I’d miss that.” It was your turn to frown. “What?” “Yeah. I didn’t imply anything with it.” You were digesting his words.

“Well, what about your conversation with Loes?” “Which one? We talk a lot.” He asked, finally deeming that you probably weren’t going to run away from him, and let your shoulder go, leaning against the wall opposite you, hands in his pockets. “You… It’s a few months ago. I mean, I overheard part of it, which was you pretty much gagging over my body and her telling you, that you were disgusting.” To your surprise, he blushed. He looked like a kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie-jar. He rubbed the back of his neck, and the sight of him looking so… Bashful, while leaning against the wall, a smirk on his face and a foot propped up against the brick behind him, made your stomach swirl. That was uncharacteristically hot.

“Oh, that.” “Yeah, that.” You sighed. “It’s fine if you find me… Like… Not to your liking, I mean…” You gestured to his body. “You look like that, and you’ve dated women who were the size of my thigh, but that gives you no right to…” He cleared his throat. “You misunderstood.” “Sure, I did.” “No, really.” He licked his lips. “Loes thought I was disgusting because I couldn’t stop talking about you. I was talking about…” He sighed and closed his eyes, before they landed on you again, this time with fire burning behind the blue. “I was talking about how attractive I found you. Your body. You are truly a vision to me, and I had a hard time shutting up about it. Lo thought I was a pig.” He laughed a little at the memory. “She told me that I should stop talking to her about it, and just say it to you. I wanted to, but then you started acting like I was the biggest stain on your existence, so I decided against it.” You swallowed thickly and blinked a few times.

He thought you were hot? Like… Actually attractive. Suddenly, everything began to make sense. “Oh.” You exhaled. Every time he had looked you up and down, it hadn’t been in disgust, it was because he was admiring you – a lot of puzzle-pieces fell into place in your head. “Wait, then… Why are you acting to high and mighty? Cocky?” “I guess it’s a defense mechanism? I’m not sure. I guess I tried to impress you. Seem… Confident. I had no idea it had an adverse effect.” “Well, now you do.” You grin at him. “I never thought you’d look at me in any way, if I’m being honest.” He frowned and looked deeply insulted. “What? Have you seen yourself? You look like… that!” He gestured to your body, and you felt a familiar heat crawl to your cheeks. “That dress should be illegal in all countries.” He pushed away from the wall and his fingers found the strap, toying with it. Your breath hitched. “I’m damn sure it is.” He mumbled, mostly to himself and the pad of his finger slid against your skin, trailing goosebumps in their wake. “Were you serious? This isn’t just a play to get me to like you and then you tear me down?” His fingers stilled and his eyes locked on yours. They were dark – you chalked it up to the darkness of the alley. “I’d never do anything like that, darling.” He said seriously. When you nodded, his fingers began moving again. “You’re… Entirely unaware of the effect you have on people.” He said in a hushed voice. “I don’t have an effect on people.” You whispered breathily. His fingers rested on your collarbone now, and you had to lean against the wall to avoid your knees buckling. He chuckled. “Oh, darling, you really have no idea. The way you turn heads. All eyes on you… You carry yourself so damn confidently, it’s hard not to look.” “People look because of my weight.” “I don’t. I promise you, every time you’re in the room, my eyes are on you. You’re… Irresistible. Like a forbidden fruit.” He murmured. His fingers trailed your collarbone, dipping in the hollow between them, before moving to the other side. “Henry, I…” Your breath hitched again as his fingers pushed the strap on your shoulder down just a little. “You are fucking sinful. You walk around like this…” He let the strap glide further down your shoulder. “Without even knowing how fucking hard you get me…” The strap was at your elbow. “How much I imagine being inside of you, making you mine…” You gasped as the dress finally gave in and slipped from your chest, following the strap. He groaned as his eyes found your hardened nipple. “Fucking hell, Y/N… You’re going to be the death of me.” His eyes found yours, hands hovering just above your exposed chest. He looked like he was waiting on approval, and your brain did the only thing, it could think of.

 With a moan, your lips connected with his, desperation and urgency settling nicely in between moans – his hand flew to your chest, kneading it, while your hands found the back of his neck, grabbing tufts of hair in the nape of his neck; he growled and pushed his body against yours, his thigh between your legs and you couldn’t help the whine, that overtook you, when he pressed against your core. He tasted like whiskey sour and cigarettes, but there was something else, something so entirely Henry, it made you feel drunk. You rolled your hips, creating friction where you could, grinding down on his thigh. He was kissing you like his life depended on it, as if he had wanted nothing but kissing you for his entire life. It was teeth and tongue, roaming hands and your dripping core that made a mess of his – probably very expensive – pants. Your hips stuttered as you felt pleasure creep up on you, and he grinned against your lips.

“Look at my pretty girl… Want to cum on my thigh, baby? Soak my pants…?” You mewled and whispered his name, when he pressed you down a little, letting you rut against his thigh harshly. “Do it, baby… Cum for me, right here, on my fucking thigh…” You moaned against his lips, riding his thigh until you exploded. His lips were searing against yours and he swallowed your sounds as you came hard, pleasure running rampant through your body. Your nerves were burning, every cell in your body was screaming for more and you had lost all control over your breathing and yourself. You were clawing his back, nails digging into his jacket, and you realized that he was holding you up effortlessly. Fucking hell.  

You came down with small, heaving breaths, while he kissed your collarbone and neck; you couldn’t see straight. He slowly removed his hand from your breast and deftly put the dress back on your chest and shoulder, before he lowered you carefully to the ground. He held your shoulders tightly until he was sure, you can stand on your own two feet. He kissed you softly again.

 “Want to get out of here with me?” “You have no idea.” You grinned and he kissed you longingly, already pulling you towards his car.

  ----------------------

TAGLIST:  @acaceta @a-skov​ @angelmather1​ @cooldreamlandsandwich​ @doubletriplepowerbomb​ @est1887​ @enchantedbytomandhenry​ @fionnthebandersnacc​ @herroyalbubbliness​ @keiva1000​ @kebabgirl67​ @luclittlepond @mis-lil-red​ @multifanficdom @one-sweet-gubler​ @pandaxnienke​ @perfunctory-username69 @sleutherclaw​ @sofiebstar​ @summersong69​ @spookyboogyuniverse​ @stardusted26​ @thereisa8ella​ @timetraveller4​ @thatonechickhere​ @themanfromu​ @thelastpyle​ @tragicphoenix13​ @yourlocalhoney​ @wheretheriversrunintothesea​ 

[mochikeiji]

Gojo Satoru

↠ Pairing: Gojou Satoru x F!Reader

↠ Warning: bby gojo having heavy thoughts and sadness after everything. (pls hug) angst to fluff.

↠ a/n: ironically, his name is the title for this xD also thank you so much for the love from my recent works o(^▽^)o♡ have my love too!

↬ Word Count: 1.9k

Everyone has their beginnings. While some were blessed to start out life with good fortune and the right path, there were some who struggled through their way in living. For Gojo? He didn't really care. Not when he was already being worshipped for being born in this world, not when as a child he had barely lifted a finger before his life was already planned out for him. It was as if he was simply taking the red carpet to luxury. He already has everything. Truly, he claimed, he was indeed the honored one.

He wasn't one to be wary of his own feelings. What was there to be thought about if he doesn't know what are these stuff running through his head? Not that he should give a single mind to it. 

But as he sat down at the tub of his bathroom— tweezers between his fingers, one at a time he plucks out the small shards of glass that had dug themselves onto his skin from the previous mission he was sent on solo, he started to wonder why he was staring blankly at the crimson liquid trailing down his damaged skin. Why did he felt so empty?

Maybe if Shoko were around to patch him up, he would've have had someone to pester for the day. Maybe he wouldn't have gone home to the lonesome apartment he owns, hissing at the pain from each shard taken out of his body.

Pain

That was strange. He never experienced that. Not even when he's in battle with the strongest forms of curses. No matter how many gashes of wounds he's collected, they always heal themselves quickly. It was unfamiliar that it began to frustrate him. He doesn't like it. Not one bit. It hurts. It hurts so much, yet why was there still something making his heart clench?

Loneliness. Abandonment. Broken.

Gojo was a fool for losing the only person that has come close to understanding him. If only he understood what Geto was going through; if he knew what the hell were all those troubles and emotions were maybe he would've still had his only best friend here with him. But no. It slowly came crashing down on Gojo's eyes that though he was the honored one,

He was the lost one.

A broken soul being held by strings as he was only guided to follow along the path that was planned out for him, but never what he planned for himself.

Why was he remembering all of these now? It had been years after the downfall. He should've moved on from it, be the usual cherry top, annoying idiot he was to his students and colleagues. God, he hates this. Falling, falling, falling.

Only the weak fall

Was a statement drilled into his system right from the start. The never ending worship that has earned him the title of being the "strongest" was what he kept pursuing. Believing.

Was the Gojo Satoru at his weakest point?

"Fuck." the unusually large shard of glass falls on the tiled floor, removed from the left side of his chest. Near to the scar that trails from the base of his throat and down to his navel; the reminder of why he shouldn't be left vulnerable at any cost. The hideous flaw that will forever be marked on his body, the one he desperately hides behind those prideful remarks and grinning faces. It saddens him, it hurts him, it angers him. It makes himself lose his own sanity.

The stinging started to kick in on his chest, no longer can he tell if it was from the wound or the clenching of his heart. He was strong, he was suppose and always will be strong. "Why?" the tub cracks from his grip. His free hand coming up to his eyes, eyes that people loved enough to fall in a trance— enemies crumbling and begging for mercy upon them.

Gojo felt ashamed.

Shameful. He grits his teeth hard when the small trickle of the uncharacteristic tear falls from the heavenly eye. It falls down to the porcelain surface, mixing with the trail of blood that was slowly draining down, "Why?" he finally looks down at the fatal wound, attempting to stop the bleeding with his bare hands pushing his chest. The blood smearing all over his upper body, shading the past scar that it made it look like it was there again.

"Why?"

Gojo speaks a little louder, sweating profusely as the dam inside him broke. Like an endless waterfall it was the tears fall. It made him sick. This was all not him. This wasn't the known shaman in the jujutsu world. This wasn't the boy raised from the family of the strongest. This wasn't the strongest.

"Stop."

This wasn't any of him.

"Make it stop."

Then who was he?

"Please, make it stop."

"Satoru?"

Entire body freezing. It was the first time he felt fear rushing through his veins; the fear of being seen like this. It wasn't because he didn't trust you. Good gracious, you were the last and only person Gojo ever holds onto after the years being glued together by faith and his attempts of flirting. No, he didn't want you to see this unknown person that was sitting in the bathroom of your shared apartment. Right, he forgot he was living with you.

Huh, he forgot. You were there.

There knelt down to his level, wide eyes meeting the now visible broken ones that was glossy with tears. With careful movements you raised an arm to eye level, pleading silently for permission to touch him. And for the time, Gojo was actually wary. He's faced a lot in the years spent as a sorcerer, as the strongest. Never the weakest. So when your lips curled into the same smile you'd give him during your moments of vulnerability. The cute, little curve you give when you couldn't help but just admire him or when you're about to utter out his 3 favorite words, he finds himself leaning forward to rest his cheek against the warmth of your palm. He allows the pestering tears to fall omly to be caught with your thumbs, shooing them away from his features.

"Let's get you cleaned up."

When your hand pulls away for a short moment, Gojo silently whines at the lost of contact. The tightness in his chest coming back. The feeling of abandonment crosses his head for a second before you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, holding up the tweezers he had dropped a while ago, "I'm here now."

I'm here now

That was his line. His line for when there was someone in need of help. The line that shimmers hope on the darkest moments of anyone's life. The line of the strongest. The ones who were only truly honored of saying.

Hope. It had a different form today. One that was right in front of him, plucking out every leftover shard on his body with gentleness he never got to witness as a child. The soft cooes and from time to time kisses on his scalp made his senses more focused on there rather than the stinging sensations running through his skin. Exactly how people react when there is hope.

And where there is hope,

"I love you, Satoru."

There is love.

Warm water from the shower cap started pouring down to his tensed muscles, washing out the combined dirt and blood away from him, cleansing his own form of curses that has shaken up his being. When did you finish patching him up? And why wasn't it as painful as it was when he did it?

He watches you move the small container that reeked of the scent of his blood and that inflicted his injuries far from his sight. Immediately, Gojo felt empty once more and was about to call you when you came back holding fresh towels on your hands. "Do you want me to join you?" he couldn't say yes faster than ever, almost as if he was relieved when you offered.

When you had finally stripped yourself off of your clothes and settled in between his long legs, there was nothing but the sound of the shower on echoing in the room with the two of you just staring back to one another.

Too good to be true, you were.

Gojo wanted to speak. Wanted to tell you how thankful he is that you were here to pull him away. To save his life, but all he could do was stare back into the void that of before. He sees the way your hands map around his torso in attempt to rinse him completely. Coming in contact with the old and new scar, softly tracing them as you felt his eyes wonder to yours. There was no sign of disappointment nor a hint of harm or disgust. Only something he never understood that it made him sob unexpectedly, startling you that left you pulling him into your embrace which he latches his face onto your neck and arms surrounding your body whole.

He cries.

All the frustration of not knowing whatever was happening, the mistakes he wishes to correct and the past he hoped to save along with the title he swore to maintain. It all falls on the smaller body he treasures in his arms at this very moment. He clutches, he palms, he roams. Whatever he can do just so he can fully grasp the idea that someone was there. You were there, and he wasn't alone anymore.

"I'm sorry I wasn't strong enough."

It would shock the world and break the hearts of many to hear these very words uttered from the mouth of the honored one. And Gojo wishes that everyone could hear it. That it would somehow reach the skies to wherever his best friend was too. To you, the person he loved the most. He was sorry that he wasn't the Gojo Satoru in your eyes.

"No, Toru. No." you push him back gently only to pull him in for a soft kiss, "I don't need you to always be the strongest. Let alone apologize for being vulnerable." he listens as he nuzzles against the palms meeting his face. The ones that held him together when he was falling apart.

His lips wobbled a bit when you land kisses on his scars, "These may not have been the good ones in your life, but these do not make you for who you are, Satoru." he hums in content when you rub down to his chest soothingly, the feeling that you has him yearning for more. Needing for more, "It's okay to be lost, and it's okay to be weak. But it'll never define you."

"I need you to be just you."

You pull him down, letting him cry all his heart out to your naked chest. He let's you have your way to him. The emotions, words, and treatment. All so unfamiliar. And he finds himself wanting. Needing more.

All his life he thought he had it all.

But never in his life has he lived it.

"What am I, (Y/n)?"

Cooing softly as the small of his voice. Like the child who never got to experience what love was. The child raised to already has to burden such responsibilities and stand. Gojo can feel himself breathe in relief as he whispers an "i love you" with a small kiss on your skin when you uttered out the words that has set his locked up self free. Free from the strings that's been taking over. The cage he was kept from all of his living.

The curse of his gift

And being honored of what he truly deserves.

"You're Gojo Satoru."

Just Gojo Satoru.

© all content belongs to mochikeiji. Please do not repost or copy, ありがとうございました!! (=^･^=)

[allisonlol]

jouno angst p l e a s e

a/n: y'know i low key suck at angst but i really wanted to do this so...here have a lil scenario </3 used unreciprocated love as the theme 

warnings: hhh jouno’s really mean in this one :’) being his usual dramatic sadistic self or whatever. i tried not to make the ending TOO angsty??

you used the corner of your cape to wipe the blood off of your saber, looking down at the criminals you’d just killed with disgust. when would they all learn their lesson? you hoped it would be soon, since killing wasn’t your forte despite being the central part of your profession.

jouno was nearby, cleaning off his saber as well. the both of you were commonly dispatched together which, in your case, was both a blessing and a curse.

you stole a glance over at him, only to find that his face was neutral and unreadable. it tended to usually be when he was around you, for some reason. you weren't sure whether to take this as a good or bad sign.

“could you please calm that racing heart of yours?? or should i silence it for you?” jouno said bluntly, sliding his saber back into its scabbard.

you jumped in surprise at the sound of his voice, before taking a shaky breath to try to lower your pulse. you could hear it pounding in your ears, and instantly felt embarrassed knowing he’d heard it as well.

swallowing your nerves, you pushed your own saber back into its scabbard as well before turning to face him. “we should probably head back now…?” you offered.

“‘probably’ is an understatement. we’re already going to be late to the meeting at this point.” jouno turned on his heel and pushed past you, leaving you to scramble to catch up.

despite the fact that both of you would be late, neither seemed to be in a hurry on the walk back to base. you and jouno walked side-by-side in silence, maintaining a leisurely pace. the unsaid words you’d been meaning to say to him for weeks swelled up in your chest, making it hard to breathe. should you take your shot now? your mind raced with nervous thoughts as the silence slowly started to suffocate you.

“i know what you have to say, so spit it out already.” jouno interrupted the solitude, sounding annoyed. you looked at him in a panic; how did he always seem to know what you were thinking??

“um...” you scrambled for an excuse, back tracking on your plan. now wasn’t a good time to confess to him, not after he’d called you out like that...

but then again, when would be a good time? seemingly never...so why not go for it now? 

clenching your hands into fists so they’d stop shaking, you drew a breath before saying what had been on your mind for ages: “i was just wondering if you’d want to spend some time together outside of work. maybe we could get coffee or-”

jouno abruptly stopped walking and you bumped into him, not having expected him to stop. “oh! i’m sorry-” you stammered, feeling your heart sinking in your chest. you shouldn’t have said anything, how could you be so stupid?? your thoughts screamed.

jouno smiled, before laughing lowly to himself. you watched fearfully, dreading his reply.

“i’m not entirely sure what possessed you to think it would ever be appropriate to ask me that, y/n.” shaking his head in amusement, he took several steps forward, closing the gap between the two of you. “it’s ironic that you thought i didn’t know already. after all, i’m forced to listen to your insufferable erratic heartbeat every damn day.”

“i-...” your mouth opened to speak but no sound came out. while you hadn’t been entirely sure of what jouno’s reaction would’ve been, you’d never expected it would be like this. you found yourself at a total loss for words, and could hear your pulse thrashing in your ears again.

“you’re a nuisance. and quite honestly, i couldn’t care less about you.” he leaned over you with a threatening smile, tracing his index finger along your jaw to tilt up your head.

it’d be a lie to say that his presence didn’t affect you. even now and in this context, his proximity to you had your stomach twisted into knots. 

“oh…” was all you were able to get out, your voice small and shaky. from the way his smile grew, jouno only seemed to take delight in this.

you looked absolutely heartbroken, and he was loving every second of it.

you winced as jouno suddenly grabbed a fistful of your hair, using it as leverage to throw you to the ground. you hissed in pain, bringing your hands up to your stinging scalp. from your spot on the ground, you watched in confusion and trepidation as he gracefully drew his saber and placed it against your neck rather gently. 

“quite honestly, i’d be doing everyone a favor here. you have no true useful qualities...hell, you struggle to cut down criminals even when your job calls for it. i’ll never understand how you were recruited to be in this unit, but regardless, you’re getting on my last nerve.”

your eyes stung with barely contained tears as you came to the realization that jouno saw you as nothing more than another being to torment and derive his sadistic pleasure from. obviously you’d known he was like this, but you’d never thought he’d turn that behavior onto you. regret weighed heavy on your chest, and you mentally kicked yourself for being so naive. 

“then do it.” you seethed, feeling your face flush in anger and embarrassment. you pushed your head forward so his saber dug slightly into your neck, drawing blood. “go ahead and do everyone that favor.”

you watched in mild surprise as jouno’s smile faded and his face became solemn. there was silence between the two of you until he drew back his saber, sliding it back into its scabbard with a metallic ping.  

“get up. we were supposed to be back at headquarters ages ago.” jouno finally said bluntly, grabbing you by the collar of your uniform to pull you back up to your feet. you hurridly brushed away the blood trickling down your neck as you watched him begin walking ahead of you. 

“we’re co-workers. we can’t be anything more.” jouno said over his shoulder, and you almost didn’t hear it since he’d gotten so far out of earshot. you blinked, contemplating the weight of his words and actions. he was just...so confusing. 

the tears you’d been holding back clouded your vision, about to spill. a part of you wished he’d cut you down as he’d threatened to; anything to spare you from the pain you were now feeling.

[lokiskitten]

Request for @brat-blog-2 !!

Loki Laufeyson | dark obsession

Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

plot : after Loki takes over Asgard and becomes king, he is now finally able to tear you away from his brother’s grip, before deciding to make you pay for it.

warnings : cursing, degrading, physical abuse, mental abuse, biting, none/co, smut, unprotected sex, physical manipulation, lack of after care.

PLEASE, this imagine contains NONE/CO. Do not read it if it’s a subject that you’re uninterested/sensitive with. All irrelevant comments will be deleted. Now, to all the people that are willing to read, enjoy! :D

Groans exit your lips as you were forcefully dragged all the way up to Odin’s throne, which had now unfortunately become Loki’s- and that against everyone’s will. Most of the Asgardians had decided to submit to their new savior, however you decided not to take part in this petty move and remain faithful to the people you believe deserved it, such as Thor or Odin. Unfortunately, this attitude easily led you to get in trouble with the king and his surroundings, remaining unaware that Loki had been obsessing over you for a while now which allowed you to avoid great moments of anxiety. But now, you had just gotten caught, and escaping felt absolutely impossible.

The guards’ grip tightened around your fragile arms as they forced you on your knees before Loki’s sat silhouette, wishing to avoid accidentally letting you go which would’ve risked to annoy their king. The raven haired man’s green eyes looked down at you, smirk appearing onto his devilish lips as you progressively started to feel more and more uncomfortable about his intense stare. Thankfully, hatred managed to drag you out of this shame hole, giving you strength to stand up face to this man who claimed to be your king though he truly was nowhere near reaching this rank. “Ah, at last. You almost made me wait.” He spoke, raspy voice echoing through the large room. And as you continued to physically and mentally struggle, Loki carried on talking.

“You gave me a really hard time, in fact.” He explained, causing you to cringe as you truly did not look forward to discovering the double meaning hiding behind this creepy sentence. Getting up from where he had been sitting, the man accepted to remove his horns before taking a couple of steps down the luxurious throne which once belonged to his adoptive father. Watching him near you stroke another shockwave of hatred through your body, head looking up as you were no longer fighting the guards grip- or at least not physically. “Tell me... Why keep fighting it? All you have to do is give in. Forget about the past, and become my queen.” He purred, though you felt nowhere near softened by his devilish words.

“You are not king.” The words escaped your lips like the purest yet sneakiest venom. Hearing this sentence, Loki groaned and turned around in order to refrain from allowing his anger to take over his calm yet frustrated mindset. “I’m a better king than you’ve ever known.” Loki spoke lowly, hand forming a fist in anticipation of your next, surely offensive, answer. “You are nothing compared to your brother!” You dared to affirm, head dangerously moving closer to his silhouette through the words’ hatred. This sentence crossed a line which probably should’ve been kept intact, easily leading Loki to unleash his anger out on your left cheek. The back of his hand collided with your face as he turned around in a fast manner, your head and upper body propelled backwards due to the imminent shock you had just received.

A small wince escape your lips, Loki’s silhouette now hovering above yours as the guards took a step back in order to leave some space for their king to outburst. “I am ten times the king he will ever be, you little quim! And you’re just a fool for believing otherwise.” Progressively, his tone lowered, entire being calming down as his hand travelled to your bruised cheek. “I could show you a good time... and that only if you agree to give in.” The young man proposed, though the physical contact was soon broken by your strong attitude. Shaking your head in an attempt to make his hand back away from your face, a sigh escaping Loki’s lips as he seemingly agreed to take a step back and watch your pathetic self struggle helplessly.

“Alright. Have it your own way then.” He affirmed, green eyes drifting up to his guards, a move which was accompanied by a simple nod of his head. Instantly, your arms were trapped by their palms, body dragged away towards god knew where whilst Loki frustratedly made his way back to the throne. Screams exited your lips as you had completely gave up on any form of dignity, though it wasn’t as if Loki hadn’t proceeded to completely steal it from you barely a couple of seconds ago.

[...]

After spending the rest of your day locked away in the dungeons, body sitting down against the wall whilst trying to contain it’s need of food and water, an unexpected visit occurred. Before you could even tell, Loki turned out to be standing before your quivering frame, refraining from making physical contact with you as he simply waited for the moment where you would finally notice his presence. Barely looking up, you decided to offer him no form of attention as you knew that it was something that made his blood boil. “It would be foolish to ignore my presence.” Loki explained, kneeling before your folded self. Your face looked away, jaw clenching in an upset and painful manner.

Seeing how you seemingly weren’t willing to properly cooperate, the demigod rose from the floor and made his way towards your bed which had graciously been gifted by the dungeons services. He sat down, legs remaining spread as his bulge pressed against the elastic fabric of his suit. Finally agreeing to look up, a blush spread over your cheeks when you made eye contact with the man who was now your king. Gasping uncomfortably, your hands immediately decided to push down the fabric of your dress in order to hide the leftovers of flesh which weren’t covered by the thin piece of fabric. Even with the attitude your carried, your instincts forced you to go humble face to the threat of male gaze.

“If I may, I think you look alluring alluring.” Loki confessed, green eyes moving up from your body to your face. It didn’t take long for you to understand the man’s intention- like a doe being preyed by a dangerous cheetah in the mountains. Noticing that the door had been left unlocked since the king remained in your cell, you decided to attempt the impossible by getting up to your feet and rushing towards the exit. Unfortunately, and quite unexpectedly, Loki’s silhouette summoned before you could reach the see through wall, stopping you in your track. Thankfully, this vision was nothing but a clone yet which still successfully managed to make you back away in fear as your eyes stared straight into his smirking features.

Your feet bumped against the edge of the bed, making you fall back as the real Loki got up right in time to avoid your silhouette. The demigod joined his clone with a chuckle, both of them looking down at you in amusement as your troubled mind couldn’t manage to figure out who the real Loki was. The only object which turned out to be in your reach was a book, and your hand didn’t waste any time before taking a firm hold of it in order to throw it at your abuser. Unfortunately, you couldn’t seem to tell which one of them was real- and seeing how you had one chance out of two to miss, your brain took a decision rather quickly... but unfortunately, it didn’t turn out to be efficient. The book passed straight through the projected figure of Loki, landing onto the floor shortly before the clone faded away from your sight.

A disappointed sigh escaped Loki’s lips as your eyes stared at his face in fear. “That was audacious. It’s a shame that your instincts decided to lead you towards the wrong path.” The king affirmed before taking ahold of your ankles, easily managing to get on top of your fragile self. You squirmed, head tilting back as you wrists were now trapped by his strong hold. “Can’t you see that I want you. I need you, my dear.” Loki confessed roughly, face buried against your neck as he kept on kissing and licking your warm flesh. You exhaled loudly, refraining from moaning as this unwanted gesture would’ve only encouraged the madman through his acts.

Soon enough, your mind and body both agreed that it was time for you to stop fighting it, arms helplessly laying beside your head as the demigod continued to do whatever he wished of your body. Thankfully, emptying the rest of the cells had been one of the first things that Loki did shortly after becoming king- which offered you both complete privacy. His hand roamed your clothed waist, the other one taking a rough hold of your breast he’s seemingly been wishing to touch for a long time now. You could feel his teeth biting at your jawline, probably creating bruises which you wouldn’t get to see until the moment you’d be free from his grip and facing your own reflection in the mirror.

Almost carefully, Loki sat you up before pulling your dress over your body, naked silhouette now exposed to his sight as you had never felt more vulnerable in your whole entire life. Soon enough, he decided that it was your turn to return the gesture, limbs falling back besides his own body as a smile appeared on his face. “Undress me.” Loki demanded calmly, green orbs looking at your scared self as he admired the way you still found the strength to fight the situation. Carefully, his hand traveled up to your chest, index and middle finger pressing against your sternum as his facial expressions were now stern. “Undress me.” Loki repeated, green mist swirling around his fingers and magically penetrating through your skin.

Nearly instantly, your brain was intoxicated with the painful grip which was Loki’s magic. Forced to obey, your hands moved up to his shoulders as you started to remove his first layers of clothing. Surprisingly enough, and as difficult to figure out as his suit could be, you managed to remove the layers of clothes as if you’ve been doing this for your entire life. Though, even if you obeyed his orders and successfully managed to undress the demigod, your soul remained empty from any forms of emotions- which was soon to become a dislike for the unamused god of mischief.

The man now sat shirtless face to your naked self, magic exiting your body as he forcefully laid you back down against the rough sheets. It felt as if you had just awoken from a dream, eyes blinking curiously as you barely managed to understand what was going on around yourself nor properly get back into reality. All you could feel were Loki’s hand on you as his clothed crotch pressed against your bare one, happy grunts and hungry moans escaping his lips as he let his lust out on the skin of your neck. His boner was undeniable, and your scent penetrating through his nostrils only managed to make it swell even harder as it prepared for the upcoming penetration.

On another hand, you turned out to have a hard time getting any wet, as the thought of having to submit to his demands made you feel sick in your stomach. However, nature was soon to take over as the feeling of his crotch against yours uncontrollably caused your genitals to throb and moisten- preparing for intercourse just like Loki’s. His head moved down to your chest, lips easily wrapping around your nipple which he religiously suckled on. Your eyelids shut close in order to avoid paying too much attention to the multiple sensations going through your body at the moment, though it was becoming harder and harder seeing how Loki truly didn’t help.

Climbing back to your face, both of your crotches aligned again as his hand moved down in order to lazily pull his own pants down, and that just enough for his member to be set free. A wince escaped his lips due to the friction the movement managed to create for his cock to enjoy, warm tip colliding with your clit as Loki took a couple of seconds to blindly align his length with your slightly moist entrance. His lips pressed against yours as his warm member slid inside of your core, a loud yet deep and creepy moan escaping his lips as his bare stomach collided with your skin.

Never once you believed ending up having to submit to such an act in your life, and yet here you were : laying down in the arms of a man you were meant to despise. However, the intercourse technically remained none consensual. As soon as he had reached balls deep, the demigod took a couple of seconds to catch his breath as this first sexual contact was visibly sending him head over heels. At least, one of you was having fun. You adjusted the position of your legs against the bed, leading Loki to do same as you could feel his stomach bulge every time he breathed in. “Fuck, my darling... you know how to make your king happy.” The man praised with a grin before starting to thrust in and out of your entrance.

A gentle hiss exited your closed mouth as Loki allowed multiple winces to escape his parted lips, his head tilting back in pleasure whilst your breasts bounced generously every time his balls collided with your ass. Once in a while, you noticed that the god of mischief would stop and enjoy some cosy time inside of your warm and soaked self as he caught his breath, hand always pressed against your cheek as he either kissed you or stared right into your eyes. Then, he would begin to thrust again and allow more frustrated groans to escape his lips as his body took care of slowly building up it’s owner’s climax.

His mouvements were soon to become sloppier, betraying the undeniable fact that your partner was soon going to release his semen against your cervix. Of course, from where you patiently laid, you couldn’t help but apprehend this moment as your worst fear was for him to cum inside of you and cause a pregnancy you did not want to occur. Finally, a moan escaped the man’s lips as he paused inside of you, the lower part of his shaft moving in waves as his scrotum throbbed and twitched. Your greatest fear had just come to reality as you could sense the thick and warm liquid stain your walls, grin appearing on Loki’s seemingly satisfied face.

“Oh my lord.. that felt so nice. I’m afraid I couldn’t thank you enough.” He confessed whilst looking down at you, shortly after managing to wash away his orgasm. Pulling out of you and causing a sudden emptiness to take over your stretched pussy, a couple of more droplets of white semen leaked out of his tip which he made sure to wipe off against your sensitive clit. Your jaw clenched as you tried your best to remain calm though your heart was rushing due to your ovaries receiving the needed ingredient to produce a living being. “I can’t wait for you to give birth to my heir.” He affirmed, sat down on the edge of the bed as he lazily pulled his pants back up.

This sentence was enough to pull you out of your daytime nightmares only to dip you into a worse one, eyes filled with fear and hatred staring up at him in a determined manner. A dark chuckle escaped Loki’s lips as he seemed to appreciate your reaction, feeling amused by behaving as if he didn’t know that was something you wouldn’t enjoy. Mental torture was in fact his favorite. “But don’t you worry my darling, I will make sure to find time through my many duties in order to visit you often.” The demigod added, confirming the fact that you probably wouldn’t get to leave this cell until your pregnancy was led to term.

Sorry for being so inactive! Here’s an imagine I hope y’all can enjoy. Unfortunately, I think I’ve been shadowbanned. ( @delightfulheartdream )