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wri0thesley · 11 months

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canicular - yandere kaveh x fem!reader x yandere alhaitham (6.8k)

it's a tough lesson to learn.

cw: yandere. mentions of past dub-con, non-con (non-explicit), physical punishment. abuse. reader is referred to by feminine pronouns.

this was a commissioned work.

If there is one thing you are not short on, it is time.

Though Alhaitham provides what he thinks are stimulating ways to pass your existence, you do not often feel inclined to read the thick tomes of Sumeru history or ancient language studies that he leaves on the table for you. Nor do you have any inclination towards the other hobbies he has tried to get you to pick up, in order to keep your hands busy and your brain exercised - what desire have you to do a jigsaw puzzle or a book of word games when you feel like a caged tiger, pacing uselessly back and forth with no end in sight?

Kaveh, at least, tries to get you to occupy your long hours with things that are transporting. His own pencils and papers and paints (a sad smile on his face when he caresses your cheek and sighs and says ‘why don’t you try drawing where you would rather be?’). Alhaitham tries to improve you; to mould you into what he expects you to be and what he wants you to be and what he thinks you ought to be.

Kaveh, at least, sees you as something human, with human needs and human feelings and human wants. Wants that are not half an hour of cursory sunshine so you do not develop a Vitamin D deficiency, not a meal chosen entirely for nutritional properties and not how it might taste in your mouth (Alhaitham is not a cook - you always prefer Kaveh’s meals, though the Scribe clicks his tongue and says things about how there’s no health benefits to the nostalgic desserts that Kaveh tries to get Alhaitham to let him make for you).

Kaveh sees in you the human need for companionship and sympathy and something other than Alhaitham’s blank face when you rage at him and sob and pound on his chest and demand he let you go home. Something other than Alhaitham’s insistence that this is better for you; that he is a good master, that your life is simpler and more suitable now, that he is simply putting the world to rights by taking you as his-- his pet, his dog, his slave, his lover--

What are you truly, again? Other, of course, than his?

In lieu of being Alhaitham’s dog in need of training, when you can, you gravitate to the architect - who wouldn’t, when your other option is a man who watches you cry and replies only with: “And what are you hoping to gain from your tears, exactly?”? And Kaveh, in return, gives you his own sympathy and his sighs and a stroke of your hair that has no hidden meaning at all, you’re sure, but his desire to comfort.

If sometimes you let him take you, after all of the comfort - if you spread your legs for him and sigh and nose against his neck and murmur soft sweet appreciation - that is neither here nor there. You have such precious little opportunity to make decisions for yourself, so why should you not? You tell yourself fiercely, with your mouth wine-stained with Kaveh’s lips, that you would make the same decision were you not a prisoner. Kaveh is the kind of man you would have sought out for yourself, you decide. And he never takes advantage; never makes the first move, waits for your sniffles and hesitant kisses and shaking hand as it traces the elegant line of his collarbone.

But Kaveh is not always home. Kaveh goes into the desert, works for weeks on a project somewhere else in Sumeru wherever his architectural genius is summoned, and leaves you to the untender mercies of the man who caused all of the heartache in the first place.

Alhaitham is never later than ten minutes after work (and on those occasions, his normally calm face has a twitch of fury about it). He never forgets what time he has set your meals for, never forgives an order that has gone unfulfilled (and you have the marks over buttocks and thigh and back to prove that), never lets you answer back or skip out on one of his ordained rituals for your health. He is a constant; a knife that carves out your life, ever sharpened and ever ready.

You practically throw yourself at Kaveh when he returns, if you have been alone with Alhaitham too long. Bury your head in his neck and sigh about how you missed him the moment that you can get him alone, smile and thank him with earnest words when he produces some treasure he saw whilst he was out and about and gifts it to you (they are never lavish gifts; Kaveh does not have the Mora to spare. But a fresh Zaytun peach or a Sumeru Rose plucked from the wildest parts of your nation is a treasure to you nonetheless, when your life is a narrow square of home-and-garden you are not permitted to leave).

. . . It is easier to force yourself not to notice the way Kaveh’s golden eyes catch yours after the gift, as if he is waiting for and expecting the kiss that you press onto his lips as a thanks that never seems to end at just a kiss.

Kaveh’s comforts do not come often enough, in your opinion. Certainly their number does not match up to that of Alhaitham’s firm commands - his lips on yours, his hand on the top of your head forcing you to your knees, his insistent quizzing on the book he left for you today that you have not so much glanced at, his carefully marked schedules of when you should eat and when your period is due and all of the other minutiae of life you had never stopped too long to consider before.

In the past, you had not needed to dwell on these things. You had daydreamed some, of course, of some loving faceless significant other who might hand-feed you slices of Harra Fruit and write you poetry and curl against you until you felt like the two of you were one - but you had always had faith that this would come for you. Perhaps when you least expected it, a fanciful fairytale dropped from the sky into your waiting lap--

You had not reckoned on Alhaitham.

If nothing else, he has provided you with plenty of hours to daydream. An endless yawning, stretching chasm of a future that you try to fill with the paints Kaveh brings you, with constant machinations about an escape route. Sometimes when you imagine leaving, you are hand in hand with a blond man with a smile like a fresh flower blooming, feather haphazardly stuck in his hair, a promise to somehow find enough Mora to build a pretty little cottage in the middle of nowhere where one does not have to worry about stern silver-haired scholars.

You have the time.

Summer in Sumeru is difficult at the best of times. Under Alhaitham’s captivity (you never think of it as Alhaitham-and-Kaveh, so certain are you that the architect would free you if only Alhaitham were not in the picture), it is even worse. You can no longer open the door and stroll out into the Grand Bazaar, where the air is darker and cooler. You can no longer stop off at some merchant or another to buy a cool treat, take a dip in one of the lakes if you so feel like it - all you can do is try and find the shadiest spot in the locked house, lie upon your back and wish for a breeze or two.

“You shouldn’t stay there all day,” Alhaitham says, reproach evident in his voice, when he comes home at seven minutes past five in the afternoon like he always does. “Your muscles will atrophy.”

You sigh in response, long used to the fact that if you argue he will twist your words around until you’re sure of nothing - if you argue too much, you’ll lose some other privilege you hadn’t realised was a privilege until Alhaitham had taken it away.

(Once it had been hot water that you’d had removed, and Alhaitham had stood in the bathroom with you as cold water drenched your hair and your body and gooseflesh broke out along your skin, his face unmoving despite your nakedness. You know that he does, at least, hold some attraction to your naked form - the fact he had not let even a flicker of desire cross his face as you shivered and shuddered there was testament to his insistence you must learn your place. Actually, though, right now, you do not think a cold shower would be a punishment. It sounds rather nice, even if Alhaitham is there to watch you with calm inexpressive eyes.)

“It would be cruel,” you say instead, “to leave a dog in these conditions all day.”

He prefers this kind of reasoning; a debate, and not an argument. If you stay calm and even and you appeal to logic, you might have a chance of survival.

“There are some folding-fans in one of the drawers,” he says. “A present from one of the Inazuman clients Kaveh worked for, I think.”

“Surely they would just blow hot air back in my face?” You ask him. He considers for a moment, looking at you on the floor where you have not moved. You are in one of the loose robe-like garments you are permitted to wear around the house (far less chance of you trying to escape, Alhaitham reasons, if you feel indecent - he has not bargained on the fact that at this point you would run naked through Sumeru City if it means breaking out of his oppressive regime), thighs bare, neckline pulled as far apart as it can go so what little air there is can touch your sweat slicked skin.

“What would you prefer?” He asks, with a note of warning in his voice that most people would not pick up on. You must tread carefully.

“Leave the window open a crack,” you suggest. “Not enough for me to get out. Just . . . enough for a breeze. So that I don’t feel the air around me is pushing down on me until I suffocate.”

“Hyperbole,” he says. “You cannot suffocate on air.”

You bite your tongue. The request shimmers in the air for a few moments, a tangible thing - Alhaitham weighs up the pros and the cons.

“No,” he says, and the thread of hope you hadn’t realised you were holding snaps. “Not whilst I’m out. Not whilst nobody is here to watch you.”

Any response you might have made dies on your lips as a key clatters in the door and it opens, a long-limbed elegant body tumbling through in record time. Kaveh always enters like this; as if he is afraid that if he takes longer than a moment, shouts will rise up around Sumeru City and mock him and his secret will be splashed across every noticeboard in town. Kaveh pretends he does not live here, because he is an important man who should be doing better. You pretend you do not live there because you are still holding your own home in your heart - your own garden of flowers and fruits, your own shelf of books and your own hobbies and things strewn across surfaces.

Alhaitham does not pretend; he merely avoids speaking to anyone about his home life. You had been as surprised as him when Kaveh had unlocked his door and walked in to see what the thumping and muffled noises emanating from Alhaitham’s room were, and had come across you. Alhaitham had not mentioned a roommate to you even before your captivity, and Alhaitham had not mentioned a pet human to Kaveh at any point in time or given any indication this was the kind of thing he would do.

“Oh, you poor thing,” Kaveh had said, immediately upon seeing you, crouching down next to you, his hand hovering by the gag wedged into your mouth. “I . . . did Alhaitham do this to you?”

You’d nodded tearfully, and Kaveh’s eyebrows had knitted into sympathy. You recognised him only vaguely, but you did at least see the emotions flittering across his handsome, open face - so much more than you’d ever gotten from Alhaitham. Even when he’d unceremoniously locked you in his bedroom and you’d screamed yourself hoarse into a gag and rubbed your wrists sore on the rope, Alhaitham had done nothing more than raise an unimpressed eyebrow at you.

“I’m going to take the gag away,” Kaveh had said to you, at the time. “Please don’t scream.”

He had been so earnest in the request, and you had been so grateful to see somebody who was not Alhaitham and was clearly properly horrified by your predicament and was not treating it like it was perfectly normal, that you had nodded. Calm, clever fingers had worked beneath the wedge of cotton in your mouth and pried it spit-slicked from between your lips.

“Can you speak?” He’d asked, and when you’d tried and you had not managed to get out more than a wheeze he had fetched you a glass of water and held it to your parched lips.

“I can’t untie you,” he’d said, helplessly, his gold eyes flitting to where the ropes had rubbed you raw. “Alhaitham would be . . . unhappy with me. But maybe I could try and loosen them? Move them higher up, so I can take care of the blood?”

You had thought that he must be some other prisoner of Alhaitham’s, back then. As he’d given you more sips of water and you’d hiccuped and grated out some of the story that had lead you here, and he’d nodded and made soft little noises of horror and understanding, as he’d cleaned the wounds and commiserate with you over what a brute Alhaitham was, even to him, the Scribe’s senior. He’d knuckled your bruises away so gently that you’d cried more, and admitted to him that you feared you would never feel a tender touch again.

“You poor thing,” Kaveh had repeated, looking at you with those pools of molten gold. “Don’t worry. You and I are comrades in arms. We’ll take care of one another as best we can.”

You know now that Kaveh’s predicament is not quite the same as yours - partly based on Kaveh’s own stubbornness and pride, instead of the unmoving unrelenting coldness of Alhaitham instead. But that first night, he firmly positioned himself as an ally. Had argued with Alhaitham when the Scribe had come back about how he could not gag you, could not tie you so tightly, could not leave you waterless and foodless in his bedroom all day. A knight in shining armour, you had thought - and the first thing you had done when your bonds were finally loosened was wrap your arms about the surprised blond and thank him.

“Anyone would have done the same,” he’d said, as you’d sobbed into his shoulder and Alhaitham had watched, lip curled at the corner, face unreadable. “Anyone with a heart.”

He’d held the embrace just a little too long.

“You’re home,” you say to Kaveh, back in the present, and you smile at him, a trembling, wavering thing. Sweat is beading on your brow. The brief rush of cool air that Kaveh lets in is a welcome change, and Alhaitham sighs as he walks towards the window. You notice which drawer he goes into - the tiny key that he produces from one of Kaveh’s many cubby-holes on the architect’s desk. Amongst rulers and tiny screwdrivers and silver-flashing scissors. Alhaitham allows the window to open the smallest crack - the one that looks out only into the garden, so nobody passing by might hear voices they do not expect coming from a house they know belongs to Alhaitham.

“I am,” he says, with a smile. “I brought you a present.”

“You’re spoiling her,” Alhaitham says mildly, as you turn your head to Kaveh. You hear the drawer click; another key turn. It is never so simple as ‘get a key from a drawer’. Alhaitham is not so foolish. “What has she done to deserve a present?”

“You don’t have to do things,” Kaveh argues. “It’s nice to have nice things!” You see now that he is holding a small bowl, the kind that the food stalls give out with food bought to travel with - he walks towards you with a smile on his face and holds it out. Inside of the little pale brown half-moon of a bowl are three scoops of some kind of frozen treat, and your mouth waters. You finally move from your spot on the floor to reach out for it.

“Say ‘thank you’,” Alhaitham says sharply, before your hands can close around it. “Or I’ll have it myself. No doubt he paid for it on my tab.”

Kaveh glares at him from under his pale brows but does not argue - you, with your throat dry and hot, babble out thanks to Kaveh and reach out again. Alhaitham clicks his tongue once more.

“Wait,” he tells you, command in his voice. “You’re not even going to ask me if you can have it?”

“Alhaitham--”

“She has to learn,” his voice is final, a rough lightning strike through the room, a man who has never wavered in his convictions. “A disobedient animal is no better than a wild one.”

“Please,” you say to Alhaitham, sensing that arguments are brewing, that tension is crackling. “Please may I have it.”

Green eyes catch yours and leave you hanging desperately and wordlessly for a moment. You dare not move. You wonder if he’s going to bring up you asking about the window, and use that as an excuse - or perhaps what a waste you’ve made of the day, how you should have made yourself move from the cool floorboards like you’re supposed to. You cannot breathe.

Alhaitham gives a wordless nod as he turns on his heel.

“I’m going to get out of my work clothes,” he says. “Have a cold shower. Make sure you behave, and we’ll go into the garden at dusk when it’s cooler.”

Shoulders untense. Kaveh smiles at you and holds out the bowl again. Your mouth waters as you reach for it - you barely notice that Kaveh does not relinquish the hold of his long fingers upon it until you’ve kissed him on the cheek and let him kiss you softly on the mouth in return. It does not seem important.

His own mouth tastes like the dessert, too. He did not have to wait to be brought it by some kind, sympathetic soul. He could have had as many servings as he liked.

You savour every spoonful.

You know your way around the house. You have earnt freedoms to be allowed to wander it at will - if you want to, you can go into the kitchen and fetch yourself something to eat (Alhaitham encourages that, in fact - as long as it is that you’re eating one of his approved foods). You can choose from the many tomes that line the walls, can sit in the living room or the study or on Alhaitham’s desk chair if that’s where you wish to be.

You cannot leave, of course.

Golden locks mock you wherever you look; some intricate, some simple, but none with a key you possess. You’ve seen Alhaitham with two keys to the front door - a cruel joke, when you are not even permitted one. The keys to the windows, to Alhaitham’s desk itself, to all of the drawers and the places you are not allowed to look sit side by side on Alhaitham’s keyring like sentinels guarding you from freedom.

You think about the open window, when Alhaitham cracks it just a little when he comes home. Stand by it and try and get some breeze; strain to hear the voices that are very far away, wondering what’s going on in the life you have abandoned like a missing jigsaw puzzle piece. Has the mould you had been battling with, beneath your own bedroom window, finally beaten you? The spider that dwells in your darkest bathroom corner started a family? Has post piled up on your doormat - letters that will go unanswered for who knows how long?

You have only one hiding place. One loose floorboard, in the very corner of Alhaitham’s room - Kaveh doesn’t go in there often, or you’re certain the architect would have noticed it. You keep some trinkets in there - a dried flower Kaveh had once put in your hair, a necklace he had given you made of cheap beads that he’d bought from some do-gooder selling them for charity.

(Alhaitham had seen you wearing it and pursed his lip; later on that night, when he’d taken you into the shower to wash your hair, he had unclipped it and dropped it into the wastepaper bin.

“It doesn’t suit you,” he’d said. “It will just break and the beads will scatter everywhere. There’s no reason to be giving you any presents right now.”

Whilst you’re sure he meant all of those things too, there’d been something else running through the current of his words; I don’t want you to wear anything that I don’t pick out for you. You’re mine, and if anyone were to collar you . . . it would be me.)

And, your greatest treasures of all - loose Mora, left about the house by Alhaitham and Kaveh. Alhaitham is always complaining about Kaveh dusting and tidying and moving money and not telling him where it has gone - sighing over Kaveh not paying enough attention to things. The idea that you would take it does not cross his mind. He doesn’t know about your hiding spot, so in his mind you’d have nowhere to keep it--

But, too, there is this.

You stay in his home all day, a mostly well-behaved prisoner. He provides you with nutrition and food and clothes. He provides you with attention (whether you want it or not). You have nowhere to go, nothing to buy, and not a single reason to have even a coin to yourself. What would you do with Mora?

It is one of the places his rationality fails him.

In both small and large denominations, you have more than enough Mora to make it to Liyue, Mondstadt, and far away from Sumeru stashed away on a boat to the island nation of Inazuma, where even Alhaitham (you’re certain) could not drag you from your new life.

Kaveh is the one who gives you the opening, in the end. He and Alhaitham have an argument in the early morning - from your position wrapped in Alhaitham’s sheet, you half-listen. It’s about you. It often is. Kaveh is trying to argue with Alhaitham about how he should be allowed to take you out with him into the garden in the morning, that the one half-hour of sunlight is not enough and perhaps you and Kaveh could even cultivate a little flower-patch out there, to give you something to do--

It’s a well-worn argument, one that Alhaitham always wins. Kaveh is not responsible enough to be in sole charge of you outside, Alhaitham says. He spoils you too much. You smile into your pillow as you imagine that little cottage once more, of tending to a garden with Kaveh--

Kaveh slams the door on the way out. Alhaitham comes back to you to rouse you from bed, sighing over Kaveh, scolding you for not getting up yourself - he, too, is distracted by the argument, and that distraction does not ease. He is working from home today, he tells you, so the window can be cracked all day.

At seven in the evening, the window has still not been closed, and Alhaitham has pulled you onto his lap to read with you perched there. At eight in the evening, Alhaitham grits his teeth that Kaveh hasn’t come back yet and tells you he is going to the tavern to drag his ungrateful roommate home--

And he leaves with the window still cracked.

At quarter past eight, Kaveh is dragged into the room smelling of wine and Alhaitham follows him in, sullen as ever. He still does not notice the cracked open window, as he drags Kaveh into the bathroom and commands him to brush his teeth, to splash himself with cold water and pull himself together.

The window has not been seen to. The drawer that he had put the window key back into remains unlocked.

When Alhaitham returns to the main room, you pretend to be worried over him. You ask if there’s anything you can do, framing it as a kind of shaking fear the Scribe may take out his frustrations on you, and you let Alhaitham take you into his bedroom to work off the stress.

You stare into the empty space behind his shoulder while he’s inside of you and think about slipping through the open window and out into the world again.

The next morning, Alhaitham chances a gaze at the window and nods to himself when he sees it - for all intents and purposes, locked. You’d shimmied the frame up painstakingly slowly last night when you’d murmured about needing the bathroom, hoping he wouldn’t remember. He’d grumbled in his sleep but had not protested.

He leaves the same time he always does - Kaveh, slumped in his own bedroom from the hangover, stays where he is.

And you hold the unlocked window like a secret flame in the candle of your heart.

You still do not dare do anything until an hour after Alhaitham has left, terrified that he will return and you will be punished horribly for daring to think escape would be possible. But as time ticks on, and the sun rises higher in the sky, you begin to convince yourself that this is all going to be fine.

You go into the living room and to the window. It leads out into the garden, but that is fine; you can scale a fence. That is no difficult task after everything else you’ve been through. You test it, wiggling it open just a crack, and a light breeze hits your heated face as excitement begins to rise in your bones.

Back into Alhaitham’s rooms to go beneath the floorboards and take your little pouch of Mora, heavy in your hand as you tie it with cord around your waist. You do not have a bag, and your flimsy robe has no pockets - but those are things to be thought of later. Perhaps you will take some well-worn dress from a washing line, where it dries in the wind. Perhaps you can spare a few coins for something that does not show off the ample curves of your body so much. You can allow yourself, now, to think of those things.

Content, you open the window wider. You let yourself linger there in front of the window for longer, fresh air on your face and the promise of escape playing a siren’s melody. This time tomorrow, you will be free.

You look towards Kaveh’s bedroom and smile.

So will he.

All of those dreams you’ve had can be made reality; you will both find yourself out from beneath Alhaitham’s thumb with a future stretching ahead of you, together. You can repay Kaveh for his kindness - can sometimes be the one to bring him a gift of flowers or fruits or a beautiful leaf on the ground. You can walk hand in hand with him and this will be but a distant memory.

You rap softly on his door.

“Kaveh?” You call into the crack of the hinge. “Are you awake?”

Kaveh mumbles your name. Stirring from within his room, as he moves about it, a murmured response that he’ll be out as soon as he’s decent - you can barely wait. Unrestrained tension fizzes through all of your veins, excitement and pleasure and anticipation. You let yourself imagine him boosting you out of the window, both of you laughing as you tumble onto the grass beneath the windowsill--

His door opens and he stands there, dark shadows beneath his eyes and his hair more ruffled than usual but the kind smile that you have grown so fond of firmly on his face.

“I have something to show you,” you tell him, tugging his arm. “Come on, come with me!”

“Is it a new painting?” He asks, mildly, letting himself be dragged along with that smile still on his face. “Ah, have you found another lovely tale in one of those books you want to read to me? I do adore you, you know--”

You pull him into the living room and, with a bright, optimistic look on your face, motion to the wide-open window where the wispy white curtains are fluttering in the breeze.

Kaveh does not speak for a time.

He swallows.

You can see his thoughts racing behind his eyes and you mistake them for fear; trepidation of a life with nothing. But that’s alright; you have made provisions for such things!

You jingle the Mora, as those sharp golden eyes move from you to the window and back again.

You give him a hopeful smile, all bright eyes and idealism that you’ve always thought he’d share with you. Freedom calls; a life away from Alhaitham. “We can leave,” you say. “We can go out through the window! A whole future, Kaveh, together--!”

Kaveh is still not smiling back at you.

“I--I’ve thought of everything,” you say, falling over your words as Kaveh does not immediately fall upon your open escape route. “We can go to Inazuma, I have enough Mora, we can put as much distance between us as possible and you . . . architects are needed everywhere, we might have to sleep rough a while and I know you’re not that used to it and it might seem scary but we could get a little cottage together and a g-garden and . . .”

You tail off as Kaveh’s gaze stays trained on you, pitying, sympathetic. He should be delighted. He should be pleased. He’s looking at you the way that Alhaitham looks at him, when Kaveh gets started on one of his talks about how everyone in the world is good at their core. You have always agreed with him - mostly.

(“Present company excluded,” Kaveh had said once, waving a hand, wine glass in his grasp, at Alhaitham. You had laughed, and Alhaitham had made you bend over his knee and spanked you hard upon your rear ten times as Kaveh silently watched).

“Stay calm,” Kaveh says softly. “Step away from the window, darling. Let’s talk about this instead.”

Dawning comprehension settles about you like the hot summer air.

It seems a foolish thing not to have realised before all of this - you suppose, in Kaveh’s sweet soft smiles and cooing gentle voice and his whirlwind way of coming and going, you have never stopped to think about it. Your voice comes out dry as old paper.

“You’ve had a key the whole time.”

“I live here,” he says. “Surely you realised I’d have to let myself in and out--”

“You could have let me go any time.” Your tone is flat. Kaveh looks at you, anguished, and a thousand thoughts flit into your mind - a thousand times he could have just unlocked the door and held your hand and the two of you could have walked out of the house and you could have walked right out of Alhaitham’s grasp. Instead, he had given you fruits and trinkets like you were supposed to be grateful and taken the reward of your gratitude in hungry kisses and the press of his body upon yours--

“No, darling,” he’s trying to soothe you. “I couldn’t have - you know what Alhaitham has over me, you know that he could ruin my life - I’m just as much a prisoner as you, really--”

The earnestness in his voice could almost make you forgive him. It has, in the past - when he’s knitted his brow and said of course he can’t let you out of the cage, but he’ll make it up to you when Alhaitham lets you out. You’ve written off things like that before.

No longer. Not with the window fully open, not with escape beckoning you.

“Then leave with me,” you repeat, shaking. “Come out of the window. We’ll get out of Sumeru, we’ll go somewhere nobody even cares about the Akademiya, somewhere he won’t reach--”

The bag full of stolen Mora tied about your waist feels heavy, jingling on your hip. Your throat is dry. The robe you are permitted to wear suddenly feels all the flimsier, all the more embarrassing to be seen in, full thighs on display and the curve of your chest far too revealed.

“Don’t,” he says, softly, moving towards you. He places his hands up, palms facing you, like soothing a wild animal likely to flee. “You know that wouldn’t work. You know he’d find you.”

(You, he says. Not ‘us’.)

“Kaveh!” Dreams of that little cottage and a little life slip through your fingers like grains of sand. “Don’t-- don’t you care about me? Do you want me to die here?”

“Of course I do.” He’s closer now. Your shoulders shake, lip trembling. He reaches out for you, fingers brushing your cheek. “Of course I don’t. We take good care of you. Better care than you might have gotten, before. Have I ever hurt you?”

You want to scream. You’re hurting me now!

“Alhaitham has,” you whisper. “And you . . . you’ve never stopped him.”

You’re crying, you realise, as Kaveh’s face turns into concern and he wipes a tear away.

“I can’t,” he says, with a soft little sigh like he is the injured party. “If he threw me out . . .”

“You don’t want to leave.” You try to keep your voice flat, but it cracks on the ‘want’. You want, you want, you want - and from Kaveh’s kisses, from his murmurs and his gifts and his indulgence of ‘draw the place you wish you could be’, you had always thought that he wanted too.

“I have a reputation,” he replies, steadfast. “My architecture, my name, all of the things I worked hard on--”

He doesn’t say anything about your achievements. He’d smiled at your little drawings and said how talented you were, he’d sighed over how pretty you were and how much of an inspiration you were, looked at you with such warmth in his eyes as he’d listened to you talk about your dreams and all of those little romantic fantasies you kept cherished in your heart and had thought that, perhaps, he would understand--

But now? He says nothing. As if you do not exist outside of this prison.

He thinks himself far more important than you.

“I just want some freedom,” you whisper, your face wet, your throat dry, your body feeling pulled in all ways at once. You had never envisioned that Kaveh would be like this - in all of your daydreams, he had gone willingly with you. You chide yourself now, for your own foolish romanticism - but you cannot let go of nights spent in this house with only Kaveh for comfort. “I just want a life.”

“We take care of you,” Kaveh says in a voice that sounds like a beg. “Alhaitham’s right, you’d never have lasted alone out there--”

“I was d-doing just fine.” Tears clog up your throat like ice.

“Were you?” He asks, quietly. His hand on your face feels like a brand, as he rubs his thumb over your lip and sighs, as he pulls back with a strand of your hair twirled around his finger. “Darling. The world chews up and spits out people like us, sometimes. I just want you to be safe--”

“I’m nothing like you,” you say to him, trying to be strong and failing miserably with every tremulous syllable. “We’re nothing alike, Kaveh. I would have been out of this window the moment it was opened, if we were in one another’s shoes.”

“No,” he says, and his voice is still disgustingly tender. “No, you wouldn’t. You’d see that you’re too fragile, too romantic and too lovely and too idealistic to survive for much longer. You’d see that this is the best option for you.”

“Alhaitham says you’re an idealist,” you whisper bitterly. “A romanticist. Just like me.”

Kaveh sighs.

“This could have been you,” you continue, stubbornly, bitterly, wildly grasping for something to say that could hurt even a fraction of how your heart has shattered. “In another world, you’d be where I am, and you wouldn’t be saying those things to yourself--”

Kaveh looks at you and seems to understand a kind word will not fix this; a stroke of your hair, a hidden treat. He heaves a sigh and shakes his head, instead.

“I’m going to close the window.”

You don’t reply. You stand like a statue, silent, as Kaveh walks to the window, reaches for the frame to pull it back up into position. Your future trickles out of your fingers like sand through an hourglass. The cottage is reduced to rubble by lightning storms, the flower garden does not grow, and the blond man beside you in your dreams becomes as grasping and hungry and monstrous as any nightmare has ever been.

The door clicks open once again. A voice calls out;

“I forgot to bring anything for lunch,”

And then Alhaitham walks in.

His eyes quickly take in the scene before him - you, and Kaveh, and the window that has not yet been closed.

“You forgot to close it last night,” Kaveh says, without turning around. “She wants me to leave with her.”

“And so? What will you do now, Kaveh?” Alhaitham’s voice is clipped. The question hovers in mid-air. Kaveh lets out a huff of breath through his nose, and for one horrible, glorious moment you think he is about to break and come back to your side--

“Close the window,” Kaveh replies instead. “Lock it.”

You stare at Alhaitham - as the Scribe’s lips press together and curve, in a satisfied smile. You wonder if the shattering of your heart is an audible thing, or if it simply sounds that loud in your head. The window lock clicks with a finality that makes you want to throw up.

“Good,” he says. And then he turns his attention back to you, as Kaveh moves across the room to stand just to one side of him. Kaveh’s golden eyes are apologetic - but it is not enough. Your heart has been pulled out of you and trampled upon and there is no coming back from this - no number of peaches or soft kisses or reassurances whispered into your hair that will make you ever think of him as a reprieve.

Perhaps he’s worse. At least Alhaitham does not try and hide behind anything.

You have no friends here. Just two men who, in the end, want the same thing from you.

“You understand I’m going to have to punish you?” Alhaitham asks, and his tone is reassuring in its sharpness. “Trying to run . . . when all I’m doing is giving you the best life you could possibly get?”

“I understand,” you say, exhausted. Kaveh tilts his head to one side and puts on the face that you now know is a mask; concern and worry and pity. You see your future laid bare before you like one of Kaveh’s blueprints. The summer heat seems a visible thing once more - or perhaps that’s your own anger, coalescing, at the fact Kaveh has the nerve to look compassionate.

Later on that evening, when the welts on the back of your thighs sting and you’ve been divested of even the flimsiest garment, when Alhaitham has retired to bed with his door wide open and you curl on the thin blanket of the cage that Alhaitham only uses for the very worst infractions, you slip into fitful nightmares of keys clicking in locks and lion keychains and golden-eyed masks that only lie. The summer night is no cooler. You wake up in the early morning light, golden shafts with dust motes dancing, and you see that in the night the architect has brought you a peace offering.

A small bowl sits beside the cage. The bars are just wide enough for you to reach a hand out (how many nights, in the past, has Kaveh curled his littlest finger around yours whilst you sobbed over the indignity of it?). You could take the spoon sticking out of the bowl and bring mouthfuls of the frozen dessert to your lips, letting it soften and thaw on your tongue, savouring the refreshing coldness of the treat.

You do not.

Instead, you simply sit there, caged, and you watch it melt into liquid drop by drop by drop.

#writing #commissioned work #yandere alhaitham #yandere kaveh #yandere genshin impact #dub con cw #non con cw #yandere cw

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dark-fics-4-you · 1 year

Text

Attention Whore Ch I

Rafe Cameron x Reader

Synopsis: After making you leave a party for wearing a revealing outfit, Rafe teaches you a lesson you’ll never forget.

Warnings: noncon !! smut, unprotected sex, creampie, gaslighting, toxic relationship

You were arguing, again. The third time today actually. But this was the first time that the two of you had ever hashed it out one of his parties.

“I’m serious,” Rafe hadn’t raised his voice at you, yet. But you knew it was coming. “If you don’t change your outfit right now, I’m taking you home. I know Sarah has some clothes you could borrow, so what do you want to do?”

“I can wear whatever I want to Rafe! And there’s nothing even wrong with this dress! I look hot!”

He gritted his teeth with frustration, “That’s the problem baby. I can’t have every fucking guy in Figure 8 eyeing you like that. It’s disrespectful to me.”

“I thought you wanted to show me off? Wasn’t that the whole point of me coming to this party?” You retort.

“I wanted to show you off, not your tits. We’re leaving,” Rafe finally snapped and he grabbed your wrist and tugged, some of his friends parting the crowd to make it easier for him to drag you out.

“You’re acting fucking crazy Rafe!” You stumbled behind, feet unsteady from the booze you had tonight.

“Shut your mouth sweetheart,” Rafe hissed in your ear, clicking the lock on his keys as you approached the truck. It beeped and he corralled you to the passenger side, opening the door and shoving you in, slamming it shut behind you.

“I don’t understand what the problem is!” You begged as Rafe climbed in the driver’s side, and flicked the ‘Lock All’ button. Terrified, you grabbed at the handle to find it was locked.

“The problem,” Rafe began, voice shaking with rage as he pulled out of the driveway, “is that you’re making me look bad in front of my friends! You’re dressed like some kind of Pogue streetwalker.”

His words stung and confused you. He had bought this dress for you. How was he getting mad at you for wearing it?

You inhaled through your nose, trying to calm your nerves and your voice wavered, “I thought you wanted me to wear it.”

“Yeah, but not to a party where all of my friends are gonna think you’re trash I found off the side of the street!” Rafe spat, pure vitriol in his voice.

“Oh I’m sooo sorry that my outfit wasn’t up to your standards, Rafe!” You said sarcastically. “I’m sorry that I looked good in front of your friends!”

“You’re not listening to me, fucking listen to me, Y/N!” Rafe snapped at you. The veins in his forehead were bulging and his face was red with anger. His eyes were set on the road before him, death gripping the wheel and beginning to speed up.

“This is fucking ridiculous, Rafe! Can’t you just let go of it?” Your voice was rising, rage beginning to simmer over.

“D-do I look like I’m messing around right now? Huh? Do you think this is a joke?” Rafe brought his eyes off the road to meet yours, fury burning into them.

“No but I think you’re a fucking joke.” The words came out before you could think to stop yourself, and your eyes widened when you realized what you said. “R-Rafe I didn’t mean i-“ you’re cut off, flying forward in your seat before your seatbelt catches you, as he suddenly brakes in the middle of the road. Surrounded by darkened farmland, the area was completely unlit.

Rafe’s breathing was loud and fast, eyes glued to the steering wheel, composing himself. You tried to catch your breath, you needed to get the hell out of his truck.

Your door was probably still locked, and you took the chance to lunge across Rafe, trying to push the unlock button while unbuckling your seatbelt at the same time.

You managed to push the button but Rafe reacted immediately, grabbing your wrists tightly and keeping you from escaping the car.

You thrashed against him, somehow breaking free from his grip just long enough to push the door open and slide yourself out.

You fell onto the hard ground, Rafe bellowing behind you, and you quickly staggered to your feet, making it five strides before you were knocked back to the ground, all the air leaving your lungs.

“You are gonna wish you didn’t say that, princess.” Rafe flipped you onto your back, straddling you and wrapping a hand around your throat.

“Rafe! Please!” You choked, fear evident in your eyes. “I’m s-sorry.”

Rafe chuckled lowly, eyes dark. “No, you’re not sorry yet. But you will be when I’m through with you.”

Panic flashed through you when you felt Rafe’s hand wander from your throat to your chest. You stammered at him to stop, but he ignored you. He cupped your tit in one hand over the fabric, roughly plucking at you. Your stomach rolled as you realized your boyfriend didn’t care that you were now literally screaming at him to stop.

Rafe reached into his back pocket to pull out a small knife and pointed it at you.

“I’m not gonna lie, Y/N, I’ve wanted to do this for a long time, so thank you for finally giving me a reason to.” Rafe sneered at you and you shrieked with fear, scared that he was about to take your life. Instead, he brought it to the bottom of your dress, and began slicing it off you, cutting all the way up to the top of the dress, splitting it in half.

You were in shock, unable to process anything that was happening. Rafe pushed the material of your dress to the side, and reached to undo the fly of his pants

Your eyes widened at him as he pulled out his erect cock. He stroked himself, pushing your panties to the side, not giving you any time to react.

“This is your fault, Y/N, remember that. This is what happens when you make a joke out of me.” Rafe pushed into you in one thrust, bottoming out and you screamed in pain.

You felt like he was splitting you in half, the pain so sharp you began to sob. Rafe snapped his hips against yours mercilessly, trying to fuck the lesson into you.

“Little whore has to have everyone’s attention,” Rafe sneered at you. “Well now you have my goddamn attention.”

Your boyfriend slammed deep into you, again and again, your tears and cries of pain only seeming to goad him on.

“You’re mine, Y/N. Understand that? Only mine. And I will fuck you in front of all of our friends to prove it if you pull some shit like this again!” Rafe’s cruel, mocking words boiled your blood, but you couldn’t keep yourself from loving the way your cunt was clenching around him.

“Who the fuck do you belong to?” Rafe roared, fucking you harder and deeper as his orgasm approached. The lewd sounds of your wet pussy made your cheeks burn.

“Y-you, Rafe!” You squeaked, barely able to get the words out, you couldn’t think about anything other than the pleasure of his cock dragging against your walls.

You could feel yourself hurtling towards the edge of release, which made you want to be sick. Your boyfriend was raping you and you were turned on? Your shame only made you cry harder.

“Oh my god you’re so tight, Y/N. This cunt is all mine. I’m gonna paint your walls with my cum.” Rafe moaned, still frantically pounding into you. Your head was spinning but the euphoria between your hips was undeniable.

Rafe brought one hand to your throat and squeezed, finally pushing you over the edge. You screamed in pain and pleasure, shaking as you came. Rafe thrusted into you several times until it was too much for him. With a groan and one final snap of his hips, he finished inside you and you felt his cum spurting into your sore cunt.

You could feel the stickiness of his seed gushing out between your thighs as he pulled out of you.

You stared at each other, just catching your breath. Processing. You were speechless, and you had no idea if he was going to say anything either.

Rafe stood, tucked his cock back into his pants, moved your soaked panties back into place, and helped you stand up, hugging an arm around your waist to support you as you stumbled.

“Now, did we learn our lesson, baby?” His voice was patronizing, but tender, like he wanted to praise you and tear you down at the same time.

You sniffled and hugged the tatters of your dress to yourself, nodding your head, but avoiding his eyes. He paused beside you and stopped.

His fingers gripped your chin and he forced you to meet his gaze, the edge in his voice unmistakable, “what was that, Y/N? I need to hear that you learned your lesson.”

“I-I learned my lesson, Rafe. I’m sorry.” You were sure that tears were leaking from your eyes again but you couldn’t do anything to stop them.

Your boyfriend traced his fingers to your cheeks and wiped the tears from below your eyes with a thumb.

“Good girl.” Rafe pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, too gentle after the brutality he just exposed you to. “Let’s get you home princess.”

#rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron noncon #outer banks #obx #dark!rafe cameron #dark smut

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angelic-yandere-doll · 5 months

Text

Random danganronpa girls when y/n is sad because they got hurt by someone(part 1)

TW: yandere themes, mild descriptive gore

Info: headcanons, yandere, comfort, fluff, gn reader, lowercase on purpose, reader is in a relationship with the yanderes, reader is smaller or same height as the yanderes, reader is aware/accepting of the yanderes, no killing game, just despair

Key: y/n, darling is reader

Note: i'm back, learned some stuff in writing, got into danganronpa, lets see how i do(here's the boy version)

Characters: kyoko kirigiri, celestia ludenberg, toko fukawa(genocide jack), mukuro ikusaba, junko enoshima, peko pekoyama, mikan tsumiki

♡ kyoko kirigiri ♡

calm and collected. already thinking of what to do with the person who hurt y/n

leaves y/n in makoto's care as she goes on to teach that fool a lesson

she's an expert. she already knows the best ways to cover up a murder without anyone finding out, knows the right thing to say to avoid suspicion

when she comes back, she takes y/n's hands in hers, rubbing circles on them with her thumbs, then looks at them in the eyes in awe

"it's alright, y/n. as long as you stay with me, you won't get hurt again. i promise."

♡ celestia ludenberg ♡

calm on the outside, raging on the inside(y/n can't even tell she's mad)

has her loyal servants(probably hifumi) kill that peasant for her, but if they don't get the job done right, she'll kill them and decide to finish the job herself

keeps up her persona, knows how to lie her way out of questions from people suspicious of her

sits y/n on her lap, holds them close, telling them soothing affirmations, lets them lay their head on her chest

"shh... it's going to be okay, my dear. i'll make sure that that low-rank is vanished... permanently."

♡ toko fukawa/genocide jack ♡

panicking. questions how she could have let this happen. mad at the person who hurt her darling

what should she do? should see just scare them off? or cut their tongue off? stab their heart and rip it out? slice their body into pieces?(jack agrees to all of the above >:)~)

puts y/n's comfort first, hugs them tightly, cries with them, reads them their favorite books

jack takes care of the murder, has lots of fun doing it in the name of her beloved y/n

toko: "d-don't listen to them, y/n! they're j-just the worst! t-they're going to pay! i'll make sure they do."

jack: "y/n, y/n. they're just a dumbass. a dumbass that needs their guts rearranged! kyehahahaha!"

♡ mukuro ikusaba ♡

already grabbing her weapon, ready to kill, already has tabs on the person

tells someone(junko) to distract y/n so she can go through with her murder plan

probably nobody suspects her or rather afraid to interrogate her since she's a despair sister. gets messy but knows how to clean it all up in all her years of training

tries her best to comfort y/n by giving them their favorite food/drink, rubbing their back, giving them compliments all out of adoration

"don't worry, y/n. i'll take care of every danger that comes your way. i assure you of that."

♡ junko enoshima ♡

uh, what? someone hurt her y/n? watch out, she's coming

plans on making that person's last moments as despair-inducing as possible. acts all casual while doing it. if someone hurts her y/n, they get a visit from the ultimate despair herself. don't they know she's the only one who can hurt y/n and not them?

everybody's too afraid of her, too afraid to confront her. i mean, she's the ultimate despair, she can cause as much pain and destruction as she wants. who wouldn't be afraid of her?

gives y/n the best day ever(with some despairing moments). buying them stuff, bringing them to their favorite places, smothers them with affection, holding their hand tightly so they don't leave

"aww, babe! i just had to bring you here! it makes you happier, doesn't it? [explosion heard from afar] hmm? oh, that sound? just a little something to cheer you up, no worries! hey, just... don't leave me again, okay? you know what happens when you do."

♡ peko pekoyama ♡

seeing red. will do whatever it takes to get back at the person

will make the person's death slow and painful, as they deserve. probably saves one of the person's eyeballs to give to y/n as a gift to prove her love

she's a swordswoman, she already knows the most efficient ways to kill someone, she's got it taken care of. fuyuhiko helps her with it because he's used to it by now

lets y/n hug her and cry on her shoulder while she pets their head, leaving light kisses on their forehead

"mm... cry it all out, it's okay. i'm here. i told you, i will always stay by your side. always."

♡ mikan tsumiki ♡

starts crying. can't handle the thought of her y/n being in pain

will give it everything she's got to show that person what happens when they mess with her darling. smiles as she does it, knowing it's all for her beloved. not giving the person a single peaceful moment

as a nurse, she knows what to use to kill a person instantly and painfully without making much of a mess. will lie to the others that the person had a fatal accident that had an inescapable death

gives y/n lots of care. won't even leave their side for a second. always checking up on them, asking if they're okay. hugging them, not letting go. brings them their items of comfort, makes them a warm drink of their choice

"i-i know it's a-a lot, but i-i just can't s-stand the thought of you feeling like this! i-it's bad for you! no one should make you feel like that!... no one."

{made by angelic-yandere-doll}

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readychilledwine · 9 months

Text

Requiem for a Dream

Part 4 : Closer

(Three Months into Rhysand's return home)

Rhys is left with no choice but to call the bargain with Feyre in, but it turns out the anger the cursebreaker fills him with is the perfect catalyst.

Warnings - a lot? NSFW, Smut, Penetration, rough sex, d/s dynamics, bratty behavior, mentions of self pleasuring, mentions of voyeurism and exhibitionism, degradation and praising, light impact play, alcohol use. Let me know if I'm missing something?

A/N- this is the end, my loves. From here forward would begin the journey that is ACOMAF but with my OC. I'm interested in diving into a tense dynamic between her and Feyre that is very much an enemies to friends trope. I just do not know if I will. If you are interested, this one is pretty obvious to the gurlies with a banging time playlist, "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails

Part One Part Two Part Three

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

Rhiannon could hear Rhys arguing with Feyre. The bargain they struck had begun zapping him this morning and used that small piece of him that lived inside of her to force him to feel her emotions. Panic, fear, depression. He had tried pushing it aside as long as he could before getting too angry to ignore it any longer.

Rhiannon had dressed him impeccably for his first outside of the court appearance since leaving the mountain. He looked like a God. His fitted black trousers, a black shirt, and jacket with embellished lapels. His swirling chest tattoos peeked out from under his clothing. She, admittedly, had been drooling over her husband.

In her mind, his outfit highlighted the return to health he'd undergone. It showed that his court was thriving under their strong high lord. Appearance was one lesson she took very seriously from her own father. Even if Rhysand hadn't repaired his court alone, she ensured it looked like it he did.

The other high lords did not need to know she had been a driving force in how quickly they recovered. They didn't need to know Azriel and Cassian had made examples of every single male that stepped out of line. That Mor and Amren had slapped the Court of Nightmares back into shape with two long visits. No, she'd allow her mate that credit, especially when it was Tamlin having to face it. She ran a perfectly manicured nail along the rim of the crystal glass before refilling it with the sweet red she had stolen from Rhysand's cabinet.

She smirked as the doorway to their room, and then the bathroom, slammed open and shut. She had been teasing him all day. Sending him images of her playing with herself, sending him images of last night when she was watching him with his cock in her mouth. Now, she sat in their oversized tub, drinking wine, and looking out over their court, she regretted nothing about the bratty behavior she had sent him despite his multiple delicious warnings. Not when it would become this.

She could feel is rage ripping through the bond like wolves. But all of that stopped the second he saw her, naked and wet, in the steamy haze of their tub. "Are you going to join me, or just stand there?" She looked back at him over her shoulder. She watched his eyes go wide and his smirk grow. She took it one step further, wiggling her hips at him.

He growled at her, immediately pulling his clothing off. "Stay right fucking there. Do not move."

"Right here?" She motioned to the bench her knees were on. "Right in this spot?" She had arched her back and leaned forward out of the tub, allowing him a full view of the absolute present she was offering him. She smirked as he was instantly in the water and over to her within seconds.

His hand found purchase in her hair, pulling it to arch her back even more. "Teasing me today, little mate? Do you think it was really appropriate to send me images like that while I was trying to save the cursebreaker?" He placed kissed along her neck and jaw line before whispering into her ear, "Did you enjoy fucking the toy I bought you? It sounded and looked like you did, pretty little thing."

She smiled ferally while looking up at him. "I did no such thing, Rhysand. Are you sure your mind isn't playing tricks on you? We both know old age has started to take its toll." A harsh smack found her round ass making her cry out in pleasure.

"Flithy, fucking, liar." He smacked her ass again, enjoying the way it bounced as his hand made contact, then again and again. He didn't stop until her legs were slightly shaking and her ass was red from the continued strikes. "Am I going to have to fuck some manners back into you, Rhiannon? You are a High Lady. You should behave with more respect."

She felt herself dripping at this point. Rhiannon loved when Rhysand was a gentle dom, but the degrading, angry male she was dealing with right now was her absolute favorite. She loved when he fucked her to release his frustration, and they had a month of build up to this moment.

She'd spent the past month teasing him. Anything from sucking his cock in the broom closet or under his desk, to having him walk into their shared bedroom with her fingers buried inside of her, to riding his thighs in his office, to begging him finger her under a blanket at family reading night, she'd teased her mate with all she had to offer to lead up to this moment, and he had teased her. He'd wake her with his tongue between her legs, he'd send her memories of them. He kept her on edge constantly.

He reached over her, taking her wine and drinking it. "Did you get that cunt ready for me? Or were you unable to follow that order as well?" He ran a single finger along her folds, groaning at her wetness before pushing it in and making her gasp.

She kissed below his jawline, laughing in a way that had his hand wrapping around her throat and him growling in her ear. She began to ride that finger, then the second he added, moaning before finally answering. "Oh High Lord, didn't you just accuse me of showing you how pretty I looked fucking myself with that toy? Did I not do a good job positioning myself in front of the mirror so you could watch every single inch sink into me?"

"Fucking brat." His fingers withdrew from her and went to his cock. He lined himself up and was inside of her within seconds, his hands gripping her plush hips as he immediately set a punishing pace. Rhiannon screamed at the intrusion before quickly falling into moans and whimpers. "What's wrong, pet? Nothing to say now?" She whimpered at a harsh thrust.

The stretch of his cock had her drooling. No toy compared to her mate. To her husband. Every drag had her eyes rolling back, lips parted as she panted in bliss. Her hips began to meet his as his wings appeared, flared wide in dominance. He was growling and moaning behind her, causing her own pleasure to soar higher and higher.

"Such a fucking tight pussy," another hard spank had her squeezing him and crying out loudly. "Gods I've missed your cunt baby. Feels so fucking good. You were fucking made for me." Another spank, then another. Rhys had his head thrown back as he heard his mate crying out below him. He tilted his head, instead watching her reflection in the glass windows as he fucked her into oblivion.

Rhiannon was a true ethereal beauty. Her lips were slightly open, whispering his name and praises, her golden skin flushing with the power of his hips meeting her own, bouncing her full ass on his hips and thighs. Her perfect tits. Her small trim waist. Her head fell softly back in pleasure before falling to the side, her back still arched as he took his pleasure from her.

She was twitching around him with every rich heavy drag of his cock against her. She was begging him for more. "Rhysand, please," a soft moan fell as he moved to angle himself and her to kiss her. A sharp well aimed thrust had her pulling her lips away, "Oh fuck, Rhys!" He began to speed up, hitting that spot. The one he knew all to well from their time together. "Fuck! Yes! Yes! Right there, Rhys!" Her walls were fluttering more and more, the coil in her stomach tightening. "Please! Rhysand please!"

Rhys knew one thing to be true as his name started to fall from her lips in constant breathy moans like a mantra:

He never wanted anyone the way he wanted her. The way he craved her. Whispering her name was enough to breathe life back into places Rhysand didn't even know had died inside of him. She was his. He was hers. From the day he swore those vows to her, until the day they parted this life together.

He felt their bond glowing brightly between them, shimmering and dancing as if it had come alive at this final act of their reunion. He knew also then that he'd never allow anything to come between them. Never again.

"I'm so close, Rhys," he kissed her neck. The hand holding her throat ran down her body as water splashed between them. He found her clit, ghosting it.

"Me too, Rhia. I love you, baby. You know that?" She nodded, whispering to him how much she loved him in return. Her walls were pulsing around his cock, begging him for his release. "I want you to come for me. Come for your high lord."

Rhys pressed on her bundle of nerves, groaning as her pleasure shot through their bond like a well timed arrow. They tumbled over the edge together, Rhysand moaning so loudly he knew the mountains shook as Rhiannon screamed his name. He allowed her to relax, enjoying her little wiggles on his cock as she spasmed below him. He placed gently kisses to her shoulder, coming down much quicker than her and whispering praise into her rounded ear.

She was glowing, and it was then that he remembered why he kept her ready for him at all times. She looked like a goddess, her power humming and replenishing some piece of the realm with the extra magic and energy she found in release. Her eyes were shut, and she circled his neck with her arm, pulling him into a passionate kiss as the bond began to settle back down.

"I missed you," He pulled out of her and pulled her into his lap as he sat in their tub. He pulled the bottle of wine and glass back over to them before taking a drink and offering her one as well.

She placed small kissed on his jaw line. "I missed you too." She leaned her head on his shoulder, her fingers lacing with his free hand resting on her stomach. "You two were fighting?"

"She threw her fucking shoes at me." Rhiannon paused looking at him before bursting into laughter. "Rhia, this isn't funny. She threw her Godsdamned shoes at me. One hit me, darling."

"Do you have a booboo?" She began checking him over, dramatically looking for any signs of damage. "My poor Illyrian baby! How ever will you recover? Should I call for Madja? Maybe she will put you on bed rest for a week. I will stay by your side and be your nurse if I must."

Rhys nodded with a smirk at his wife's antics before making eye contact with her. "Keep up that behavior, and I'm going to fuck the attitude right out of you. Your sudden lack of manners is appalling. You spent far too much time with Cassian and Azriel."

Rhiannon smiled, pressing a kiss against his lips. "I apologize my powerful, handsome, intelligent, and cunning mate." He pulled her into another kiss. "Make me a promise, Rhys?" He nodded at the request. "Promise me from here forward we do all of this together. No more one of us is left behind, no more you self-sacrificing, no make fake facade that I am just your little piece of eye candy. Us, from here forward, working together as a team."

He nodded, kissing her shoulder. "I promise you, from here forward, I will take you with me wherever I go, that I will involve you in my choices and decisions. I will never allow something like this to keep us apart for so long ever again. That will end your position as a spy, though, Rhiannon." She nodded at the expected condition. "The priestess knows you are my High Lady," he waved his arm, unglamoring the swirling pattern that covered her right hand and arm. The tattoo he had placed into her skin once she was sworn in as High Lady in secret. "It's time for our family, court, and other High Lords to know as well." He kissed her hand, and each finger.

She leaned in capturing his mouth with hers and relaxed into a long slow kiss. One that was vastly different from the previous they've shared since his return home. It was filled with love, joy, anticipation. She gave him every single ounce of passion she had in her soul and he returned it with his own. They pulled apart, catching their breath together as Rhysand rested his forehead on hers.

"We will begin that process once dear Feyre Cursebreaker is back in Spring. Rght now, darling, we are going to our bed together. So I may ravage you over and over until you are nothing more than a silly cock drunk whore." She giggled as he lifted her out of the water, carrying her bridal style into their room with a wide smile on his face.

"I love you," she whispered as he laid her down on the silk sheets.

"I love you too, Rhiannon."

✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

@horneybeach1

@we-were-beautiful

@cat-or-kitten

@twsssmlmaa

@dream-alittlebiggerdarling

@tothestarsandwhateverend

@wallacewillow0773638

#acotar #acotar x reader #rhys x reader #rhysand x reader #rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand acotar

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devildomwriter · 5 months

Note

🪷:

I haven't TOUCHED nb! in a while (left after playing through lesson 13 I think) the last scene i remember playing were mc was in coma while brothers confessed and yea I left after that

Recently I see some uproar about lesson 37 💀 I am so curious but sooo lazy to play through it myself. Will you be so kind to spoil the entire nb! lore for me? Lmaoo

Seriously though I see spoilers of Lucifer RAGING and I have no idea 🤌

Wow that’s a lot to go through haha I’ll try and give a brief summary

Michael saves MC from their comma and the boys and MC are reunited and they are accepting of MC being a human

Diavolo decides he must send Mc back to the human world but before he can he is forced to undergo trials to prove his right as the king because the House of Lords is angry with him

Afterwards Henry goes missing and the brothers search for him. Shortly after it’s announced Raphael will be coming and they are all on edge.

When Raphael arrives he tells everyone they will be allowed back to the Celestial Realm and their father has pardoned their crimes and warns if they don’t accept they will “intervene”

The brothers individually decide they cannot leave Satan behind because he is their brother but Lucifer wants them to go back and he alone with stay with Satan because his actions are what caused his brothers to fall. In the end they all reject their pardon and stay with Satan where a ball is thrown by Diavolo to officially announce them as the seven rulers of hell.

The end credits scene reveals that Raphael was actually Michael in disguise coming to check on his brothers

Season Two

At the beginning of the season the brothers are working with Diavolo, Barbatos, and Mephistopheles for a more solid set of rules and classes at RAD and participate in mock classes

As that happens the brothers begin succumbing to their sins one by one

First Mammon succumbs to greed and his Little D. (which are revealed to be a reflection of themselves) is the key to saving him by delving into Mammon’s psyche. They then form a pact.

Next this happens to Asmo who becomes strong enough to enslave all his brothers until Solomon and MC use his Little D. to stop him. They then form a pact.

Next Satan meets Little D. no 4 and is embarrassed by his behavior and sinks into a coma but since he was born with his sin he doesn’t succumb to it but Little D. is needed to save him from within his mind where it’s revealed the first things his brothers ever gave him are his greatest treasures. They then form a pact.

Next Beelzebub grows much hungrier but doesn’t succumb and instead grows weaker. It’s thought that Beelzebub is becoming weak because he is the least demon-like of his brothers. Little D faces against Beelzebub in an eating competition and Beelzebub proves himself the avatar of gluttony.

Belphegor won’t let MC form a pact with Beel as he isn’t sure they can be trusted so MC undergoes the angel’s trial where they cannot tell a lie or the bracelet will break and they will not forge a pact with Beel. MC ends up telling Solomon his cooking is bad which devastates him but tells a lie to cover for Luke and it’s revealed the trial isn’t not to lie but to know the weight of a lie.

Leviathan overhears MC talking with Solomon about how they need pacts to get back to their world. Leviathan becomes upset and hides away in his room. He succumbs to envy and his powers rage out of control and flood the Devildom. Eventually MC is able to get through to him and Leviathan saves them.

Belphegor doesn’t want MC to leave and won’t accept the news so he uses his powers to keep his brothers too slothful to do anything and traps MC in the attic so they can’t leave but MC uses his Little D and breaks him out of his own psyche.

In the attic everyone reunites and agree to help MC return home so Belphegor, Beelzebub, and Leviathan makes pacts with MC. Everyone believes Lucifer will hop of board but he states he doesn’t want to, a sentence that makes Diavolo laugh.

Lucifer begins suggesting MC get used to life in the Devildom as they won’t be able to return home.

The brothers discuss how odd this is when MC wins a trip for two on a Devildom train owned by a noble. Lucifer invites himself as the second guest and during the trip is hinted his pride is at play and they may need his Little D. Before this can happen, Diavolo sends Mephistopheles after Lucifer and MC to make sure they are safe since a noble who hates Lucifer and his brothers owns the train.

Mephistopheles intrudes on their vacation and he and Lucifer butt heads often. The train is then hijacked and it’s pinned on MC, Mephistopheles, and Lucifer. Mephistopheles and MC are freed but Lucifer is sent to the lowest layer of the underworld, Cocytus, for punishment.

The brothers reveal the underworld is technically Celestial Realm territory so it’s weird that Lucifer is being punished for a crime committed in the Devildom in Celestial Realm territory. The brothers and Luke and Simeon venture to Cocytus to save Lucifer but the brothers are each restrained on different levels of cocytus for their crimes.

They reach Lucifer who is surprised to see MC and horrified to learn his brothers came along since the final layer of Cocytus is where you are punished for crimes against their father. As he’s yelling demanding to know where his brothers are is when Raphael is forced to read Lucifer his crimes and that he and his brothers are trapped in Cocytus and will be punished forevermore for their crimes in the Celestial War.

Lucifer is saddened for Raphael and enraged his brothers are suffering and in his rage he breaks free of his chains.

Meanwhile Diavolo is more furious than Barbatos has ever seen and is meeting with the House of the Lords to uncover what they plotted to get Lucifer arrested by the Celestial Realm.

That’s where we currently are in the game.

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer

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mistercrowbar · 5 months

Note

Heya! Firsr I wanted to say that I love your art it always makes me smile when I see it. I'm trying to learn how to draw, and eventually want to be able to draw stuff like yours. Do you have any tips/ advice on how to improve on drawing characters?

I could give the Fine Art Answer and go on about drawing from observation, from photo reference, making master studies, gestures, linear perspective, colour theory lightning composition etc etc etc but really

Let obsession grab you and ride it

I’ve known plenty of people whose art skills took off because they got into D&D and wanted to draw their OCs and they kept drawing and drawing and learning along the way. It can start as simple as, how do I draw my character making a really angry rage scream, and so you go to a mirror and make silly faces and draw from that. Then it can go to, I want to draw my OC and their party in that funny scene we RP’d at the tavern, so you start grabbing references for the interior of such a place, dabble in that perspective thing to lay out the bar, find references for the pirate NPC’s parrot, add some other elements just to frame everything nicely and bam, you’ve drawn yourself a full scene, got experience in drawing interiors, and learned some avian anatomy.

I do emphasise starting small and having fun. I illustrate full time for a living so that’s why most of what I post is silly sketches, I just wanna get the ideas out there without stressing myself. You wanna make art a habit, you want to make it something you look forward to doing, instead of getting wrapped up in thinking every new work has to be a masterpiece. Try to learn one thing at a time and add it to your repertoire instead of lumping a bunch of lessons in at once.

One thing specifically for characters, don’t jump right into making a reference. They’re likely to evolve the more you draw them as you get a better handle of what traits you want to emphasise or details that kinda get forgotten. Like, look at Aldiirn, I’ve had him for 3-4 months and he’s put on at least 30lbs lmao but also a bunch of other changes to emphasise round shapes like nose eyes hair. No one’s holding a gun to your head to keep things consistent.

So yeah! You can crunch and do the master studies and learn quickly, but if you’re just in it for you, have some fun! Draw your blorbo a million times and try branching out for one new thing here and there. If you are just starting out, it could be helpful to learn the basics of constructing a head and general body proportions. I don’t have any tutorials to recommend but I’m sure there must be something on youtube.

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shhh-secret-time · 4 months

Text

Next request actually comes from AO3! I gotta admit, I was really excited about this one!

Warning: Dom/Sub dynamic, Sub!Kyle, Dom!Reader, Strong Language, Praise Kink?, NSFW

Pairing: High Fae King Kyle x F!Reader

Notes: So you noticed the Fae in there did you? So my roommate and I have an small AU where Kyle isn't just king of the elves, he's King of the Summer Court as well! Soooome of the stuff I used has a little D&D logic behind it, but you have to squint to really see it!

Art by: Leoncio Harmr - De Profundis Clamavi

Heavy boots echoed through the halls of the castle; the ivory floor polished to perfection carried the sound until it made its way to your room. You were laying in your shared chambers lounging on the bed dressed in fine silks, now the book you were reading a distant thought. Not that you were able to pay attention to it anyway. The peaceful and serene sounds of the rain outside your window didn't help any, neither did the fact the book was so incredibly boring.

With a hum you moved the sheets off your body pulling the beautiful white material away. Pulling the forest green robe off the chair next to you and onto your form, you made your way to the door. You didn't need to really open the door to know whose footsteps those were.

Your sweet husband, your darling partner, your most precious one. Kyle Broflovski, better known as the High Fae King of the Summer Court to the elves and the other Fae citizens. When you opened the chamber doors you could immediately feel how tense he was from just the doorway. It was like a wave of heat brushing off him and you could feel it on your skin.

"My love." Kyle's voice sounds so winded, like he's out of breath the moment he saw you.

You smile as his eyes roam over your body admiring your form and like a switch that raging fire turned to a gentle breeze, by his legs maple leaves began to pick up and swirl around him. There were many titles your husband held, but High Druid was the one he was the most proud of, his command over the elements was nothing to take lightly.

"My heart." You respond as you hold yourself high, gliding across the castle floor with grace.

Kyle raises his hand, dismissing the guards who were ordered to escort him. Once you reach him, he holds his hands out to gently take yours. Despite how gentle he tried to be; you could feel how tense he was even past the gorgeous, embroidered gloves he wore.

"My apologies, did I wake you?"

"No, I was waiting for you to come to bed. But something tells me that you weren't planning on retiring to our chambers anytime soon."

"Hm... it would be foolish to try and hide anything from you."

"Now when did my husband become so wise?" You joked softly, cupping his face with your hands. Smiling as he seemed to melt into your touch, the much taller man leaning down to bask in the soft affection.

"Perhaps you're finally starting to rub off on me." He whispered, pressing a warm kiss into the palm of your hand. His lips finding the wedding band, the silver band that bound your souls together.

You couldn't help but let out a gentle laugh, even after all these years being married to him, he found a way to make you blush. The day he asked you to be his Queen, to shoulder the burdens of an entire realm, to help him lead and carry him when he could not walk. Your pride in him made it easy, he was a wonderful man and right now he looked as if he were about to buckle under the weight. And you knew just the cure.

"Then allow me to continue your lesson towards being a wise man." Your voice was like the silks you wore, a cool splash of water against his raging fire. Taking him by the hand again, you lead him to the double doors of your shared room. "Now, what troubles you, my heart."

Kyle took a deep breath, his brows knitted together frustration written on his face. You knew that look all too well he was conflicted about you telling you how he felt but you'd be damned if you let that slide. All it took was a single look from you and for you to cross your arms under your chest, and he knew he was fighting a losing battle. He lets out the deep breath through his nose, the sound of his leather gloves creasing as flexes his fingers.

"I am not a child to be scrutinized."

"Did I say you were?" Perhaps you were playing with fire with that question, the way his jaw shift and his gaze darkens but if you feared fire, you would not be married to the man who embodied Summer itself.

"In fact, I believe I asked what troubles you. And correct me if I am wrong or if I step out of line my King, but you are in the presence of your wife? The very woman who swore an oath to the Kingdom and her people, and more importantly to help shoulder the burden of her husband." As you spoke, he watched you step towards him, each step felt like it was amplifying your words.

He felt the dynamic between the both of you shift, your body language speaking louder than the words spilling from your lips. Kyle looked down at you once more before closing his eyes. A silent request to take the reins and let him unburden himself. To let him just be. The very thought was enough to make his shoulders fall forward, giving you the non-verbal confirmation, you needed.

"It...is this war. It weights heavy on not only me but my men. Each battle we lose more, each fight chips away at their will. They look to me for answers, a solution to put this damned thing to rest! But I don't have the answers!" Kyle shouts as your hands cup his face once more, the wall he put up shattering at just a simple gesture. "I send my men to die over and over again, men who have families, men who I swore to protect! I'm not protecting them; I'm hiding behind them like a coward! I should be out there!"

As he continued you caressed his face, brushing the freckles that dusted his face under the pads of your thumb. The war between the Humans and Fae raged on longer than anyone thought it would, and now that the elves were involved it only added to the casualty count. It was no wonder your husband was coming to bed later and later, if at all. It was no wonder why there would be days you'd be lucky to even see him as he spent most of his time locked away in the council room. He was burning himself out, the High Druid of the Summer court fading away like dying embers.

"Hush... you are not a coward. Do not speak as if you do nothing. Our people see how hard you try."

"Do they? When I close my eyes all I can see are the faces of those I've lost. Of those that I let down." His voice cracks and so does your heart.

"The realm has already placed enough on your shoulders, do not place more on it. You don't need to carry this alone. I cannot tell you not to feel for those who have given their lives but do not take away their sacrifice by destroying yours. Worship the flame and tend to the ashes my sun." Your words, God your words were like coming up for air after being submerged under water for too long.

You call him your sun, but the light you shine on him fills him with a sense of belonging. Finally, his hands unclench from the tight fist he wasn't aware he had them in and find home on your hips. He pulls you into an embrace, one he hasn't had the luxury to have you in, in so long.

"My moon. My night sky."

"My sun. My light."

"Let me take some of that pain from you. Allow me to take care of you tonight. Will you let me?" You guide him towards the bed, sitting him down at the edge of the plush bed. You dip your head down stopping just inches from his lips, he feels your breath ghosting over his lips and suddenly his mouth goes all to dry. The smell of the wine you had earlier was just enough to make the tips of his pointed ears go red and his mind go fuzzy. "I need an answer my heart."

"Y... yes please." He knows better than to lean forward, to capture your lips in a searing kiss so he settles for a whisper.

"Then tonight you are not the High Druid of the elves, nor are you the King of the Summer Court. Behind this door and within these walls you are but my husband, a man with his heart to bare to me. Am I clear?"

Kyle could feel his face turning red at your command. What little willpower he had was used to not let his eyes flutter shut and immediately let himself melt. He responds with another shaky sigh. "Yes my Queen. I give you all I have and more."

"There's my good boy." Your voice fell to a hush as you finally, finally sealed your lips onto his.

Kyle felt your hands brushing into his hair, intertwining fingers through his curls. The feathery curls twist around your slender fingers parting as you began massaging his scalp. The golden branches that made up his crown fell back off his head and onto the bed behind him, but he couldn't care, not when your fingers felt so good. Each kiss lasting longer than the last, the sweet taste of grapes swirling between your tongues. It was only when you pulled away and giggled that he realized he let out a whimper.

"My~ you're whimpering from my kisses alone? I cannot wait to pull more of those delicious sounds from you." You purred in his ear and nipped at the sensitive flesh pulling a moan from him. "Remove your clothes for me~"

Such a simple demand, yet Kyle couldn't help the excitement as you finally gave him permission to rid himself of his clothes. His hands worked the complex material of his robes sliding it down his shoulders, the warmth from your bodies caressing the exposed skin. As he toed his boots off you stopped him by placing your hands on his shoulders, your finely done nails gently raking across his skin.

"Slowly now Kyle, we have all night." Your voice was like a leash making his body jerk to a stop.

Sliding his palms down his pants he looked up at you with such a pleading look begging you to do something. He needed to feel your skin on his, wanted you so carnally he was sure he was going to go mad. Each time your nails traced down his chest, his muscles would flex in response. Every little gesture had such an effect on him, yet he wouldn't dare ask you to stop.

"You're being very good for me tonight, I'm so very proud of you. You deserve your reward~" You whisper against his neck, trailing soft kisses down the skin.

You pulled your hands away to remove your own clothes, the silks pooling at your feet lying next to his. A small thrill rose up in you when Kyle's eyes widened, and his lips parted in awe. The beautiful corset that hugged your sides perfectly, digging into your skin in just a way that wasn't painful but made your body look so soft; the sunrise color pallet complimenting your eyes and hair.

"May I touch you, I need to feel you love." He asks because he knows better, knows better than to disappoint you, not when you've given him such a beautiful gift.

Smiling, you took his hands in yours guiding the calloused hands up to your hips. His thumbs pressing into the supple flesh, still in a trance. You weren't just his queen, you were a goddess, something to be worshipped. You could see it in his eyes, the pleading look evolved to desperation, and you knew he couldn't take much more.

"So pretty for me, my husband. My lover." Each praise was separated by a kiss as you pushed against his chest laying him back against the bed.

Your hands made quick work of his pants and the material that held his hardened cock, once freed from his constraints it bobbed and pressed against his stomach. Milky white pearls of pre-cum already leaking out of the red angry tip, leaking when you crawled over; him thighs parted enough to straddle his lap. He sucked in a breath, hitching in his throat when you took his hardened member in your hands.

Kyle threw his head back feeling your soft hands pull up against the sensitive flesh, tugging and smearing his cock with his own arousal. He didn't bother to muffle the moans you pulled from his throat, deep sounds filling your chambers. You smiled softly at how beautiful he looked under you. His face was flushed a deep red, making the freckles on his face pop, twisted in pleasure as you continued to work his shaft.

"O-Oak Father preserve me, my love please! I-I can't take much more!" He begs for a god as his cock twitches in your hands, his breathing picks up turning to erratic pants. Kyle could hear his heart pounding in his ears as the knot in his stomach began to pull taught.

"Not yet."

"M-my moon please I-"

"I said not yet" You lowered your face down towards his, pressing another kiss against his throat. Just as your hand squeezed the base of his cock your teeth sunk into his pale flesh. Sucking the patch of skin, you had to stop yourself from laughing when he bucked his hips against your hand and cried out. When you pulled away from the bruised love mark with a pop Kyle was sure he was seeing stars, making his eyes roll up to the back of his head.

You continued your assault down his chest, printing your teeth marks all over his skin, mapping it out with your tongue and the faded paint of your lipstick. From the corner of your eye, you watched his hand fist the sheets beneath him, nails digging into the mattress. With a playful purr you pulled up to admire your work, your husband looked like a piece of art. Painted so pretty beneath you.

"Keep your eyes on me. If you close them, I will stop." Your voice broke him from his daze, the fear that you would stop when he was so, so close snapped him to attention.

Gently you positioned yourself above his throbbing cock, lowering yourself down slowly taking him inch by inch. Even now as he slowly began to fill you up, you gaze down at him with such a passionate gaze; watching his chest heave up and down. Kyle's own eyes were blown out from lust, the orbs that usually held such peace and balance now glued to yours. And when you smiled down at him, his mind just went blank. Nothing else outside of these walls mattered but you.

"Oh~ you fill me so well Kyle." You finally let out a moan as you fully slid down his cock, your cunt wrapping around him. "Go ahead, touch me. Take what you need."

Finally. Fucking finally. His hands fly to your thighs to squeeze them, fingers sinking into the warm skin. His thrusts start out slow, dragging the length of his member in and out of you as if he was trying to memorize the feeling of your walls. Kyle pulled himself out of you until only the tip of his member remained around your hole and then slowly, he lowered you back down along his shaft. He needed more, had to have more. Sweat beginning to build up between the both of you, little beads of sweat tracing the outlines of your forms. Your own arousal making it easier for him to fuck up into you, the little thrusts turning into his arms wrapped around your waist trapping you against his chest.

Still, he doesn't break eye contact with you especially not when your hands grip his jaw and force his face up. The room echoed with the sounds of skin slapping against each other and both of your moans intertwined with one another. When your walls flutter and tighten around him he knows your close, he knows you're about to cum. Neither of you have to say anything, not when the sound of voice pitches. Now when you dig your nails into his flesh, adding onto the collection of marks you've left.

"K-Kyle cum in me. I want to cum with you~!" That was it. That was when Kyle saw a flash of white and suddenly his cock was pulsating inside of you. Letting out a chocked moan as he painted the inside of your walls with his thick cum. So much of pushed up into your cunt that it began spilling down his shaft and smeared across your thighs. He could feel your slick drip down and mix with his.

Pressing his palm down on the small of your back, he laid there with you on top of him basking in each other’s glow. As you both worked on coming down from your high, he rubbed circles on your back.

"Do you feel better?" You broke the silence with the simple little question.

"I do. Thank you my love, I don't know what I did to deserve you." He replies, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"You deserve to be happy Kyle. Deserve to be pampered."

"Greedy even?"

"Well, I would think so." You smile up at him as you press your cheek into his chest.

"Then I believe it was a beautiful queen that once said, 'We have all night'." He smirks down at you as he rolls the both of you over. You let out a little gasp when you feel his cock twitch back to life.

You only smirked back and wrapped your arms around his neck lazily throwing your arms over his shoulders. Your husband had that fire back, the dying embers now a roaring flame. The heat radiating from him was a different one now, full of life just as it should be.

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skyfall8600 · 2 years

Text

In Your Eyes (Soulmate AU)

Pair: Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

Warnings: fluff, swearing

Masterlist

Prompt: the world is colourless and grey, until you make eye contact with your soulmate and you can suddenly see colour

———————————————————

You were someone who loved the idea of love. You often dreamed of what it would be like when you finally met your soulmate. You didn’t dare dream of being with anyone else until you found them.

Others didn’t care, having romantic relations and partners before they met their soulmate. They teased you, calling you an old fashioned prune or stuck up.

Living in a small town like Hawkins, everyone who’s soulmate lived there had already found each other. So by the time you were 18, you assumed your soulmate didn’t live in Hawkins. Surely if he did, you would have seen him by now. Yet, the whole world was still grey and dull. You could only imagine what colours were like.

Today started like any other. Backpack filled with textbooks, lunch, homework and whatever novel you borrowed for this week. School was uneventful for the first half of the day, your geography teacher raging on about how they hated today’s generation who have to overcomplicate simple things like radio stations or movies.

Your math lesson dragged on as you sat there waiting in your seat for your teacher to call out the end of the test. You knew you passed with flying colours but were upset that they never let you read your book after you’ve finished the test. They claimed that you could still ‘cheat’.

Not like you’d ever have to of course. You just wanted to get back to your book, you only had it for two more days until it would be over due. So naturally you spent all of your lunch time with your eyes glued to the printed pages.

“Attention all students, please report to the gymnasium for an emergency assembly.” A voice over the PA system ran out.

Everyone groaned, packing away the last bit of their lunch before filing out of the cafeteria. You followed along, getting lost in the crowed.

You sat on the bleachers closest to the doorway, while everyone else crowded around the middle so they had a better view.

The principal came out and gave the usual house keeping speech. Reminding students that there’s to be no smoking on school grounds and that all late arrivals need to be signed off by Ms Galloway, the school receptionist.

You didn’t care about much else that was said. The basketball team and cheerleaders paraded around the court, earning cheers from the ground as a ‘pre-prep rally’ for tonight’s game. You didn’t dare look into the eyes of any of the basketball members, you don’t think you could handle one of those jerks to be your soulmate.

There was a moment of silence before everyone turned and gasped towards the back of the bleachers. You had missed it what Jason said, but your eyes followed where everyone was looking.

A few of the younger boys from that ‘Hellfire’ club looked visibly upset as the whispers spread amongst the crowed.

‘Is that true?’

‘Do they really do that?’

It appears that Jason was suggesting all the cult and satanic rumours of the relatively harmless club were true. You knew they played D&D as your next door neighbours kid who you sometimes babysat for would tell you all about his latest adventures and what monsters he killed in the game. It was harmless.

Jason continued to ramble on, causing an uproar. But the leader of the Hellfire Club stood up and yelled in protest.

“It’s a goddamn fantasy game! Requires more brain cells than what chasing after a few balls into a laundry basket does!” Eddie yelled. His response made you laugh.

“What’s that freak?!”

“You heard me you stupid brainless-“

“That’s enough Mr. Munson!” One of the teachers called out. “Please leave the hall and report to Ms O’donalds.”

The crowed ‘oooed’ and laughed. The younger members of the club protested, “He didn’t even do anything! Jason’s the one who started it.”

The teacher only hushed them and proceeded to tell Eddie to leave. He made sure all of his movements were loud and stiff as he made his way through the crowed and off the bleachers.

You saw his lips mumble whispers under his breath. You watched him and took in all the unique things about him. His hair was wild and his jean jacket had stickers, pins and patches that you could barely make out. He had chains dangling from his belt loops and you couldn’t help but look.

Everyone else went back to giving Jason all the attention he desired. Yet you remained glued to the mysteriously understood boy. He walked past you and felt you staring, so he looked up at you and that’s when the whole world turned bright.

You didn’t notice any of the vibrant colours that erupted around you, all you saw were a dark brown eyes.

He stopped walking and the only thing his body could function was a smile.

In that moment, it took all of Eddie’s will to force himself not to run up to you. He always watched you from afar and he tried to catch your eye whenever he could. But you were always looking down reading or scribbling some homework answers.

You gave him a shy smile.

The teacher came up behind him and nudged him to continue his departure from the gymnasium. He may have walked out of the hall but his eyes never left yours.

You were frozen. Torn between wanting to run after him and staying in your seat to not draw attention to yourself. It took you 15 minutes before you gathered up enough courage to leave the gym. No one noticed you leave. Nor did they particularly care about you.

You could feel your heartbeat in your chest, the vibrations all throughout your body. You wondered the hallways, your eyes floating in every direction in hopes to find him. You had no idea what you’d say or do what to even do once you found him.

“Hi there sweetheart.” He called out from behind you making you jump.

“Ah!”

He laughed quietly to himself. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Jesus Christ! Where the hell did you come from?!” You said, breathless as you tried to catch your breath.

“Got a mouth on you I see,” he said, still smiling at you like a puppy dog.

“I swear I looked everywhere and you just popped out of nowhere.”

“Aw, you were looking for me?”

You blushed, “Well yeah… I mean, how could I not?”

He nodded, leaning in closer to you. “So you see the colours too?”

“Yes.” You whispered. “I’m Y/n by the way.”

“I know. I’m Eddie.”

“I know.” You replied.

The two of you stood in silence, smiling hopelessly at each other for what felt like forever. It wasn’t until the rest of the student body started to head to their final period of the day did they two of you notice that time did not in fact stand still.

“Oh, I uh, I gotta go. Have an English essay.” You said, repositioning your backpack.

“Wait for me after school near the back parking lot?” He asked nervously, worried that you didn’t want to be seen with him in front of the others.

You nodded. “Okay.”

You hesitantly walked to your class. Taking your time as you looked at the vibrant world around you. There were colours everywhere; the halls and floors looked dull under the bright green and yellow posters that decorated the halls. Pink and blue streamers floated down from the ceiling.

But nothing beat how the sky looked. You were so mesmerised by it that you failed to complete half your essay.

“Y/n? May I have a word?” You teacher said at the end of class.

“I know Miss, I’m so sorry I have no idea what came over me-“

“I’ll let it go just this once because I know this isn’t your typical work.” She said with an apologetic smile. “I remember my first day of colours too, I think I walked into a street lamp.”

You looked dumbfounded at her, “How did you know?”

She laughed at you, giving you back your relatively empty essay. “You’re smiling at a tree! Here, I’ll give you an extra 20 minutes then I’ll have to grade whatever is on the paper.”

You took it, thanking her. You sped through the essay. You had practiced it word by word religiously for the last few days, so you didn’t need the full 20 minutes. Plus, you were worried that Eddie would think you didn’t want to see him if you made him wait that long.

You handed your teacher back the essay, thanking her again and ran out to the parking lot.

Just as you reached the outside doors, your heart broke when you saw Eddie looking sad besides a bet up brown van. He thought you had left. That you didn’t want to acknowledge the “freak” was your soulmate.

“Eddie!” You called out to him, almost tripping on your own feet. “Ah!”

He laughed in disbelief and helped you to your feet. “Had me worried for a while there. Thought you weren’t going to show-“

“-No! I had-“ you were out of breath, hands on your knees trying to recompose yourself. “I had to finish the essay. Mrs. Becker let me finish it after class cause I was too distracted to finish it.”

He smirked at you and you noticed the small dimples that formed on his cheeks.

“What got you so distracted hm?” He asked teasingly.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “What do you think?!”

He laughed. “I think you’re really cute and if I say so, more chaotic then what I am!”

You joined in laughing with him. “I am not chaotic! It’s only because- because of you.”

“Of me?” He asked, slowly moving to grab you by the hands and you felt the electricity spark between you upon contact. The coldness of his rings felt cool against your soft skin. You’d never experience any sensation like it. It made you crave more. “You know, I’m glad it was you.”

“And why’s that?”

“You’re kind. You’re cute when you get into a book so much your tongue goes between your teeth in concentration. You’re clumsy as hell and it’s adorable.” Eddie moved closer to you, your bodies almost fully touching.

“Sounds like you’ve been stalking me.” You joked.

He shrugged and looked down embarrassingly. “Can’t really blame me, just naturally felt drawn to you like a magnet.”

“I always looked at you too,” you admitted. “Although, that’s purely because you’re loud as hell when you try to outsmart Jason.”

He gasped, hand clutching his chest. “Not because I was pretty?!”

“Maybe a little…” you whispered under your breath.

“Sorry. What was that? Didn’t quite hear you…” he nudged you, pulling you fully into his embrace now.

“Maybe a little bit because you’re cute.”

“I know.” He laughed, his hands cupping your face. You were both observing each other’s faces, the way your lips parted and how his cheeks flushed. “Can I kiss you?”

You suddenly grew nervous and he could tell instantly.

“Unless it’s too soon. It’s totally too soon. Fuck, forget I said anything. We’ll start fresh and I’ll even take you on a date first. Fuck-“

You cut him off by placing a quick kiss on his rough lips. You knew you weren’t ready to have a full blown make out with him yet, but that split second your lips touched already felt like heaven on earth.

You pulled back almost as quick as you leaned in. And once again you were met with the first colour you ever saw, the darkest shade of brown.

He was flustered and embarrassed that an act so quick could get him this flustered.

“I’d love that.” You said.

He looked at you blankly, “Uh, what?”

You laughed, realising the effect you had on him. “A date. You know, get to know each other… maybe get dinner.”

He nodded, his head still cloudy and he tried his best remember each word you said. “Yes. Absolutely.”

Lost in his big brown eyes, you knew that the rest of the world was waiting to be explored. And he would be there with you along the way.

————————————————————

A/N: oh my god I loved writing this. I got inspired after seeing a TikTok with a similar soulmate AU with Steve and I just had to write one for Eddie!

Hope you enjoyed the light fluff ❤️

Also I’m Australian. So my “colour” has a ‘u’, deal with it.

Eddie Munson Taglist:

@fentyreligion @littlelunarfox @coconutchumby @eempxth @superflannel @fluffycookies22 @yearwalker96 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @grungegrrrl @m1rkw00dpr1ncess

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson fluff

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melanieph321 · 10 months

Text

Ruben Dias x Reader - Try Me Part 2/6

Summary - A six part series where reader is a very passionate football player and Ruben is her new and equally passionate football coach. However, the two of them can't seem to get along.

Enjoy!

It was the second match of the group stage. Sixtiy minutes into the game and Ruben still had you seated on the bench.

"Coach?"

He stood with his back to you, facing the pitch, shouting at the girls to "Push!"

"Coach?" You shouted in vain. Either he was completely ignoring you, or he was just that emerged in the game.

"Ruben!"

His head snapped back to look at you. A bit forgetful that you were back there and not on the pitch.

"Please, just put me in." You pleaded.

His smug smile betrayed a hint of amusement. "Not this time," he replied, his voice dripping with condescension. "This will teach you a lesson, not to disrespect me again."

"But we're losing." Your plea turned into frustration as you tried to reason with him. "I've worked so hard. I deserve a chance."

He shook his head dismissively. "Hard work isn't everything, Y/N. There are many factors to consider when playing football, and your attitude towards me is one of them. Maybe this will teach you some humility."

Desperation filled your voice, "Please don't do this!" You stood, ready to walk onto the field and help your teammates weather he liked it or not. However, Rubens outstretched arm altered your steps.

"Sit down or your not playing for this team anymore."

"But..."

His stern gaze told you that he wasn't joking. During his time as the assistant coach he had never once cracked a joke.

"Fuck this." You said, bending down to remove your shin guards, tossing them aside and storming off in a trembling rage.

You didn't bother getting back to the locker rooms. You headed straight for the gates and out of the stadium, towards the nearest bus stop.

Ruben's words stung like a slap to the face. The fact that he was young and handsome only made him more annoying to you. What did he know about football? He had previously played for a team that often threatened relegation from the highest devison. A terrible merit for a coach, along with his alleged knee injury that forced him to put his football boots on a shelf. What did he know about coaching a women's team? What your team needed was a real coach, with real competence. Like your old coach.

"Y/N? To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He was shook to see you standing at his front door, dressed in all your football gear.

"It's a disaster." You announced, stepping through the door, without invitation.

"What is?" He asked, wearing a robe with palm trees on. Retirement didn't look good on him, you thought. He had gained weight and moved awkwardly between the furniture in his home.

"The new assistant coach, Ruben. He's taken over as if someone has given him your job already." You sat down in one of his leather sofas, exhaling your frustration.

"Now Y/N, Ruben is most likely to turn into your permanent coach for the next season anyway, which makes him your new head coach. "

"Unless someone else accepts the position, right? Like you?"

"But I am retired dear. Finally after sixty seven years I'm allowed to put down the whistle, sit down and rest."

You frowned. "Is that really what you want to do during your retirement?"

"Mostly, yeah. I've been worked all my life, coaching both women's teams and men's teams in football leagues all over the world. "

He seemed to hold for applause, but you just stood from the sofa. "You know, sitting down all day is gonna make you fat."

He chuckled. "Y/N. You were always one of my favorites. I already had plans to retire after stepping down from my position as the head coach for the mens team. I would have gone through with it years ago, If it hadn't been for a stubborn little bucked tooth girl who kept showing up to train with the boys team, insisiting that she'd do so until the club astablished a girls team.

Your gaze dropped to the floor, hiding your flustered face "I'm glad you didn't." You muttered.

"Me neither dear, me neither. Turns out I still had a few years left in me. As for your new coach, Ruben, his journey has just begun."

"But why does his journey have to begin with our team." You sighed.

"Give him a chance Y/N, he might turn out to be a good one."

You pondered the idea. You came to a conclusion. "I doubt it. Got anything to eat?"

Coach shook his head, rising to his feet. "You football players have the apatite of elephants."

You followed him into the kitchen.

When you were younger coach and his wife were the ones to give you a ride to and from practice after school. They knew that your situation at home wasn't ideal and never hesitated to help out. You never had to buy new cleats, not that you could afford any. Coach and his wife would always gift you with a pair of new ones ahead of the season, saying it was an early Christmas gift for you not to refuse their charity. You often felt embarrassed by it, your situation at home. But as you grew older you learned not to have it way you down too much. If it wasn't for Mimi, you would have moved out of that place a long time ago. But with Mimi's mother gone, you couldn't just leave her. You wouldn't.

"So, how are things at home?" He asked, reading your mind from across the table.

"It's...."

"Olá, estou em casa!"

You were about to answer his question when you heard a key turn in the front door, followed by somone stepping into the house. A man, with a voice that rang a bell.

"Olá, estamos aqui!" Coach replied. Him and his wife were Portuguese, always speaking the language around the house, even if you were there.

"Nós somos?" Ruben appeared in the kitchen doorway, two grocery filled bags in his hands.

"You?" You frowned.

He looked equally suprised to see you. He still wore his coach tracksuit, perhaps coming straight from the game.

"Ruben, I take it you know my former player Y/N. Y/N let me introduce you to my nephew in law, Ruben Dias."

"No way." You shook your head, rising from your chair. "You're fucking with me aren't you coach. "

He smiled. "I am not."

You looked to Ruben who still looked at you with furrowed brows. "This is not happening, this is so not happening right now. "You pushed past the both of them, on your way to put on your shoes on and leave, saddened by the fact that you wouldn't be able to step foot in this house again, EVER.

"Y/N, wait!"

You were out of the house, on your way to the bus stop, when Ruben came running after you, his hair somewhat tousled by the wind.

"He wanted to tell you."

"Tell me what?" You stopped, turning around to face him.

"That I was living with him since my aunt died."

"So why didn’t he?" You were a bit taken back. Ruben didn't look like himself anymore, or at least who you thought he was. Your new uptight coach. His face was more relaxed and he wasn't shouting at you.

"He knows that you and I...." He scratched the back of his head. "...that we've had some problems in training and perhaps if you knew that I was his nephew in law you would stop coming over to his house."

You're damn right. "So you knew about me before we met?"

Coach introduced Ruben to the team just ahead of the summer training. He must have told Ruben about you before that, about you and your home life? Coach and his wife were the only people outside of your family that knew about it, not even your teammates knows.

"I was like you once" Ruben said, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"What, a 23 year old girl?"

"No. I mean passionate about my sport. The same passion that fuels you ahead of every game, the passion that makes you work harder than your teammates. I see it in you because I used to have that too."

"And then what happened?" You weren't sure where he was going with this. Unless this conversation would end with him apologizing for keeping you on the bench today, you didn't want to hear it.

"I got carried away and too driven, loosing the sight of what's important."

"Winning?"

"No, to play a good game with your teammates."

"Any game where we win is good game for me. Scoring goals is just a bonus."

He nodded understandingly, his eyes filled with conpassion. "You think that now, until the day you win a badly played game. The victory won't taste the same."

"Well then, I'll let you know when that happens, okay." You turned around, ready to walk away.

"I'll see you tomorrow Y/N and I'm sorry for not putting you on today. Hopefully we can move past this and...I dunno?"

"I..." You were lost for words. Turning around Ruben was still staring at you, hands in his pockets and that compassionate look on his face. Perhaps he was pittying you, knowing the trurth about you? But he had always known, which meant that he had always pitied you.

You adjusted the straps to your backpack, nodding your head his way. "See you tomorrow coach."

There wouldn't be a tomorrow. You'd have to quit the team now.

You lay in bed that night wondering which teams would take you in the middle of a summer cup. A team that didn't train too far from home, because you had to get home to Mimi every night in time for dinner.

You looked to where she slept peacefully. You pulled the sheets to cover your body, ready to sleep too, when your phone lit up, temporally illuminating the room.

You received a notification. From Tinder! Quick. Grabbing your phone, you sat up in bed, eyes adjusting to the light from the display. It was a notification from Tinder alright. Another message from Ruben Dias 26. You tapped the screen to see your conversation thread, rembering the message you sent him a couple of days ago. He had left you on read since then, with you checking every night in vain. But now, he had finally given in, which guys on dating apps often did. Especially around 2:30 a.m., your current time.

"Is this big enough for you?" 😜

The message read. Followed by a picture attached to it.

Immense heat rose to your face as you blew up the image to cover your screen. It displayed a male hand holding on to the shaft of a throbbing cock. Rubens cock?

Tagslist:

@kathb59

#fanfiction #man city #football imagine #manchester city #ruben dias #ruben dias x reader #ruben dias imagine #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #football angst #football #football x reader #enemies to lovers #love and desire

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geekywritings · 1 year

Text

The Dark Side

Every Jedi faces the Dark Side. And it’s so easy to fall... But you won’t ever let Cal lose the fight against the darkness. Not as long as you’re around.

Fluff. Pure Cal x reader fluff with a very supportive and loving reader :D

____________________

Every Jedi faces the Dark Side. It was a lesson instilled in Cal and you since childhood. The challenge was not to give in. To always have control of your emotions. Even better, not to feel certain things at all.

Looking back, those rules were impossible to follow. Holding in love, hate, jealousy, fear, and affection was more destructive than the Dark Side could ever be. However, accepting this fact didn’t protect you from the temptations still facing you.

War made it only harder, requiring you to make difficult decisions on a daily basis.

Jedi didn’t seek aggression, but you had learned that it was either kill or be killed these days. And both you and Cal had taken your fair share of lives already, each one bringing you closer to the edge of an endless abyss.

You were both staring into it, fighting its pull and hoping you could retain the best possible version of yourselves.

But it was getting harder every day. You saw the fatigue in Cal’s eyes, felt the way he clutched you tighter at night, as if your presence alone could save him from the darkness. The constant fighting was taking its toll on him. Badly.

At times, he was close to losing control on the battlefield, allowing his rage rather than his instinct to lead his blade. He cut down his foes with more ferocity, showing mercy only when it was absolutely deserved. It started to worry you, so you decided to approach him about it.

You had landed on a tiny moon in the Outer-Rim to refuel your ship, picking the inconspicuous location to stay hidden. The people here cared little about the galactic conflicts all around them and would not sell you out. As long as you paid good credits, you could relax.

Theoretically. Not really.

Cal’s shoulders were tense as he stood outside the Mantis, staring at the distant setting sun at the horizon. Nothing but vast empty plains stretched before your eyes, making you wonder what was captivating him so.

“Cal? You ok?”, you asked and he nodded, eyes still on the sunset. You joined him, hand automatically slipping into his, with him instantly returning the gesture by intertwining his fingers with yours.

“And now the truth. Are you ok?”, you asked again, sending a small smile his way. Now his gaze did move toward you and his lip twitched upward.

“Why did I have to fall for a woman who can read my mind?”, he asked, tone jokingly exasperated. But seriousness quickly returned to his features, as he sighed. “I am just exhausted. No need to worry.”

“I will always worry about you.”, you were quick to retort and silently invited him to sit with you for a more comfortable conversation. “It’s about our last mission, isn’t it?”

The two of you had infiltrated an imperial base to retrieve some vital information regarding new weapons. You thought they were merely in their planning stage, but once inside, you shockingly came to discover they were already in mass production. Improved blasters with additional fire power, long range detonators and other tech that would make life for the rebellion even harder.

Discoveries like this always made you wonder if you even stood any chance to defeat the Empire. If all you did was merely scratching the surface and giving the Inquisitors something to do. It must have been the same for Cal.

“We killed civilians back there…”, he whispered and you shuddered at the memory. It hadn’t been intentional. You had wanted to sabotage the factory, but had come face to face with several imperial guards. The fight had spiralled out of control, resulting in an explosion. One thing had led to another and you had barely managed to escape the building before it collapsed. A lot of Stormtroopers and Imperial officers had died back there… but so had many factory workers. Honest people, who were just trying to get by under Imperial rule. It wasn’t their fault weapon factories were the only work available.

“It was an accident…”, you started slowly, as if your nightmares and conscience weren’t plagued by the event.

“I know… but still… I feel so much guilt… so much hate.”, Cal spoke through gritted teeth. The Empire was forcing your hands more and more, but stopping wasn’t an option either.

“Cal…”, his name fell from your lips in a soft whisper. “I know it’s hard. I really do… but you can’t let this turn you into a monster. Into them.”, you began, louder this time, underlining your words by resting a hand on his shoulder. It didn’t seem like enough, however. So you moved to sit in front of him, placing both of your hands on his cheeks and making him look at you.

“I am giving you an order, Cal.”, you spoke firmly. “Every time you feel the hatred consume you, you come to me. Every time you feel guilt swallow you, you come to me. I will always be there to keep you from falling. The Dark Side won’t get you as long as I am here.”

Relief washed through him and you could clearly see it in his eyes. Moments later his arms were around your waist, pulling you toward him. The "thank you" he mumbled into your neck almost didn’t reach your ears, but the gesture showed clearly enough what he felt. Your own arms wrapped around him, holding him as close as possible.

“We will get through this together.”, you kept whispering sweet assurances, while you stroked his back. “We might not always make the right decisions, but we will never become like them…” You forced as much confidence as possible into those words because you needed to hear them as much as he did. “We just have to stick together. I’ll be your light and you’ll be mine.”

Cal’s face emerged from your neck and his lips sought yours in a sweet, yet desperate kiss. You were alone, just allowing passion to drown whatever fears and worries you had. Just for a while, you could forget everything: The war, the loss, the very existence of the Dark Side. And for now, these moments had to be enough.

#cal kestis #cal kestis x yn #cal kestis x you #cal kestis x reader #jedi survivor

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justwearthegoddamncardigan · 9 months

Note

Hello:)

so I was looking thru ur pinned post and saw that u wrote for Harry Potter and was wondering if you would do a fic for George Weasley? ( fem reader pls) but basically, I was just kind of thinking of an introverted Gryffindor who loves books and George meets them and they both (very obvious to others) have a crush on each other? Maybe George just asks them for book recs even tho he had no interest in reading before just so he can find a way to talk to the reader? I know you have a lot of fics in the making so take ur time please<3

A HP REQUEST?? This is amazing I'm so excited to be branching out from maze runner again, and I absolutely love this request it's super cute ❤❤. Ty for being so kind and sweet as well :)

Umm :D So I wrote the above ^^^ response as soon as the request came in and now... IT'S BEEN TWO MONTHS IM SO SORRY ANON!! Hope you're still out there to read 😭

It's a love story

George Weasley x fem!reader

I am not British *thumbs up in australian* so prepare either for out-of-place non-british dialogue or cringe attempts to fit into the universe. idk which one it's gonna be so I guess we'll find out

3.1k words

Warnings: language (swearing)

You turn the corner and register a flash of red hair before colliding hard with a body.

"Shit!"

You groan as you sit up, staring around to see your books have been knocked out of your arms and onto the floor.

"Fuck, sorry, listen I've gotta-"

"Weasley!"

You turn in surprise as Filch marches down the corridor, fist raised with an expression of rage on his face.

"Shit," you whisper.

"Yeah," says the person who knocked you over, who you've now found is none other than George Weasley. Of course, the guy you've kinda sorta maybe liked for years is only talking to you after literally bowling you over.

"Here." He points his wand and charms all your books into little palm-sized rectangles, before gathering them up and stuffing them in his pockets. "We've gotta go."

"Where?" you stare around the empty corridor, unable to find a decent hiding spot.

"Follow me." George leads you over to a dusty-looking tapestry and ducks behind it.

"What the-"

"Come on!" he reaches out and grabs your hand, tugging you in.

You stumble through the gap between the tapestry and the wall, practically falling into George's chest.

"Sorry," you mutter, and you're glad it's dark because you can feel your face blushing like crazy.

"I know you're 'round 'ere, Weasley," you hear Filch snarl from outside.

You hear him muttering to himself as his footsteps eventually recede, and you let out a breath. "He's gone."

You turn to push through the tapestry to get out, only to be met with a thin slab of solid stone. "What-"

George winces. "Yeah, once you get in here it closes for about half an hour."

"Half an hour?" you repeat incredulously.

You can barely see his nod in the dark. "I mean, one of them closes for two hours once you get in, so half isn't too bad."

There's beat of silence, before, "Lumos."

The tip of George's wand lights up, illuminating the small space. "Oh, it's you," he says, seemingly on instinct the moment the light appears.

"Pardon?"

He seems to catch himself, shaking his head. "Nevermind, just- Here, sit down."

You sit down on the floor with your legs crossed, heart skipping a beat as your knee brushes against his in the cramped space.

"We're in the same Transfiguration class, aren't we?" asks George.

"I- yeah." You're pleasantly surprised by that. You tend to be pretty quiet in class, mostly keeping to yourself.

"You're always the first person to get a new transfiguration successfully. Bird to glass on the first try, right?"

"I- yeah," you say, warming at the recognition of the hard work you've always put into Transfiguration.

He nods. "Took me the whole lesson to get that one right. Hey, I never caught your name in class?"

"It's L/n," you say. "Y/n L/n."

"Good to meet ya, Y/n," he grins. "I'm George."

"I know," you can't help but say, smiling slightly.

"Oh, your books." George empties his pockets of your miniaturised books. "Engorgio." He waves his wand over them, changing them back to their normal size.

"Thanks," you say, pulling them towards you and stacking them up.

"You read a lot?"

You smile to yourself, picturing the dozens of books you go through in a term. "Just a bit."

"Sure," says George, eyeing the four novels sitting in front of you now.

Before long, you reach out and push against the tapestry, finding it to be cloth again instead of stone.

"Time to go?" George stands and pushes through, and you follow him into the corridor.

"Finally," you say, stretching before grabbing your books.

"Sorry about earlier," says George with a sheepish smile. "And for trapping you for half an hour."

You shake your head. "It's okay."

He grins at you. "Alright then, see you 'round Y/n."

You stand still, rooted to the ground as he leaves, waving behind him, and something in you clicks. Oh shit.

⭒----⭒

Any thoughts about George a put aside for the night when you settle down with your book.

The common room late at night is your happy place. Most people are sleeping in the dorms, save for a couple 6th years finishing their assignments.

You tune out their little whisperings as you sit beside the crackling fire, and you can just pretend you're alone in the common room, getting lost in your book.

Before long, you're actually alone, with the remaining people all retreating to their dorms - except for one that you haven't noticed.

George is sitting across the room, barely paying attention to the essay he's meant to be editing. Every so often, he glances up at you without you noticing.

After years of sharing the same Transfig class, something about you has piqued George's interest, though he's always tried to mark it down as pure curiosity.

He can't believe it's taken literally knocking you to the ground to get your attention, and he doesn't understand how he hadn't properly met you before earlier that day. But now, he can't seem to resist the strange pull you have on him.

Get yourself together, you've only met once, idiot. George frowns as he silently berates himself, but he can't help but watch as you repeatedly flick away a strand of hair that keeps falling into your eyes.

Fuck it. Go talk to her.

George stands abruptly, nearly knocking over a goblet in the process.

You, the oblivious centre of all his thoughts for the past few hours, are still just sitting beside the fire, reading your book.

"Hey."

You jerk slightly in surprise, grabbing your book as it starts sliding out of your lap.

"Um, hi. What's up?" you manage to say coolly.

George blanks. He hadn't exactly come in with a plan. He glances down at the assignment he'd been working on; good enough. "Did you finish that work Flitwick gave us?"

"I haven't yet," you say slowly, slightly confused as to why he's here. "I've just gotta write a conclusion and edit the rest."

"I haven't got a clue how to write the damn conclusion," says George, flopping down beside you and complaining about the rigid essay structure.

You realise as he's talking that it's strangely intimate. Earlier, you'd been sitting on the floor with your back leaning on a couch and your knees up, braced against the coffee table.

Now, you're both wedged between said couch and table, and despite the generous space between the two of you, you feel oddly close to him.

"Can I read yours?" he asks, pointing to where your assignment has been sitting since you gave up and decided to just read your book.

"Sure," you say, sliding it to him.

He leans against the couch as he skims your work, fingers tapping absent-mindedly.

"God you write like a professor, Y/n," comments George. "...the fuck are all these words- incandescence?"

"I... read a little," you say with a little smile, cheeks warming at the way your name sounds in his mouth.

He glances up at you. "This is brilliant. So you've just got the conclusion to do?"

You nod, taking back the assignment as he pushes it to you.

You end up staying up way longer than you'd intended, talking to George as the conversation topic quickly strays away from any Charms essays.

By the time you go to your dorms, you haven't even finished your conclusion.

⭒----⭒

"Mate, you're not nearly as subtle as you think you are," says Fred, elbowing his brother.

George elbows him right back. "What're you on about?"

"The staring," says Fred, grin teasing. "It's getting embarrassing. If whatever little crush you've now got starts affecting my reputation, we're gonna have to have a chat about this twin thing."

George rolls his eyes. "Git."

"So..." Fred drags out the word. "Who is it then?"

He jerks his chin towards the group of girls on the other side of the Gryffindor breakfast table, where George had been conspicuously staring at you all morning.

"The one on the left - Y/L/N, she's in our Transfig class."

"Oh!" says Fred, eyes lighting up in understanding. "Oh she's great, I did a project with her once. Quiet type, bookish. Fun, though. Pretty, too," he adds, raising an eyebrow at George.

"Shut it," retorts George. "What should I do then?"

"I don't fuckin' know Georgie, just go talk to her. Ask for book recommendations or something."

"That's... actually a decent idea."

" 'course it is," says Fred. "Anything to get you guys together as fast as possible so I don't have to deal with your lovesick horsecrap."

⭒----⭒

A Quidditch game has just finished (Gryffindor victory, of course), and you're avoiding the inevitable party in the common room. You can enjoy parties on a good day, but you're just not feeling it right now.

So you're in the library, wandering around as you wait for dinner.

"Y/n!" You turn to see George doing a weird half-run toward you, not wanting to be yelled at for running in the library.

"Oh, George. Hey."

"I figured you'd be in here," he says.

"You figured...?"

"Well," he raises an eyebrow at you. "Since you read a little."

You huff out a soft laugh, shaking your head. "So why were you looking for me?"

You try to listen as he speaks, but you're immediately distracted by just about everything about him.

His cheeks are flushed red, probably cause he just transitioned from the cold outside to the heated library, and his hair is windswept and slightly wet from melted snowflakes.

He's gotten rid of his Quidditch gear, but it's strange to see him in just the casual clothes students usually wear in the dorms and common room again.

And he's still speaking. Pay attention, Y/n.

"Anyways, I just wanted to find you, cause you know, hobbies... and literature, are really... important. And the Christmas holidays are coming up. So I just wanted to ask if you had any recommendations."

You frown slightly as you remember it's only the start of November, and he barrels on, almost seeming nervous.

"For books, I mean. To read, over the holidays. I don't, uh- come in here very often, so I don't know what's good. You seemed like a good person to ask." He scrubs a hand over the back of his neck as he speaks, giving you a hopeful smile.

"I am," you say with a smirk. You straighten up confidently, banishing any nervousness because books; books you can do.

"Great," says George. "What've you got for me, Y/L/N?"

"Well what kind of books do you like?"

His grin falters. "Um-"

"Fiction, non-fiction, stories, biographies?"

"...stories?"

"Sure." You navigate to another aisle, moving into the more fiction-y section. "Action, ooh- historical, adventure, romance?" You lift an eyebrow at the last one.

"I-" He clears his throat, and you smile slightly to yourself. "Action is good, I think," he says uncertainly.

You scan the shelf currently at your eye level, before picking out a book. "I love this one," you tell him. "Pretty fast paced, which might be good for you. Also, dragons."

"Dragons," he repeats. "Great."

"How many books are you looking for?" you ask.

"Just one, I think. I wanna... get into reading, before the holidays start."

"Sure," you say, holding the book out to him.

It's like sun breaking through, when he smiles in return. "Do you think we could meet up?" he begins. "To talk about the book once I've read it?"

"Yeah, I'd like that," you smile. "And you have to tell me what you like, so I can recommend you the next one."

"Excellent."

⭒----⭒

Ever since giving George that first book you've started seeing him almost every day.

The two of you can be found huddled together in the little nooks around the library, or behind the greenhouses, or down by the lake, talking about books and school and everything in between.

But soon the holidays arrive, and you're saying goodbye to him and the rest of your friends.

Your parents are being forced to travel a lot over Christmas for work, so the first month of the holiday flies by in a whirlwind of tea in the morning with the few remaining students in Hogwarts, long peaceful walks on the grounds, and lots and lots of reading.

You've devoured a row of books in the library by the time Christmas has passed, and you've planned to go through another row, when George materialises in the common room one day, two weeks after Christmas.

"George?" you exclaim, spotting him in the common room.

He turns as he hears your voice, and his face splits into a wide grin. Without hesitation, he runs up to you and pulls you into a hug, lifting you just slightly above the floor.

Your heart swells as his laughter rings in the air, and suddenly everything is complete.

"I missed you so much," you tell him, almost surprised at your own admission. Truth is, Hogwarts is beautiful during Christmas, but it's a little lonely with everyone else having gone home.

George's responding smile is worth the wait though, and he tosses an arm around your shoulder as he leads you out of the common room.

"C'mon, it's a Hogsmeade day. No time to waste!"

⭒----⭒

The two of you settle down at a table in the Three Broomsticks, grabbing Butterbeers as you go.

"Alright then, Weasley. Did you get through the holiday book I got you?"

He smiles. "I did. And you know what I was thinking when I read it?"

"What?"

"Y/n would hate Chaolie, and she'd love Alosia."

You blink in surprise. "I- yeah, those are my exact thoughts on the book."

George smirks. "See? I know you."

"I mean yeah, I loved every chapter Alosia was in; she's my favourite. Typical, I know, everyone likes the side characters, but god, Allo would've been so much better as a main character than fucking Chaolie. G.T.L. is brilliant- we know that, she fits insane arcs and storylines into a single book, but please,-"

George listens, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth, as you continue rambling animatedly about the book, your hands gesturing enthusiastically as you speak.

"And the cover: gorgeous. You know stories like this can have the silliest cover art if they're not done well, and the choice to go almost muggle-style with a non-moving cover is perfect."

You brush a stray piece of hair away from your face, oblivious to the way George tracks the movement, desperately wanting to reach out and tuck it behind your ear for you.

The bell on the door chimes and you look over George's shoulder to see a bunch of familiar redheads walking in.

"Ah, Y/n," says Fred, floating towards your table. "Lovely to finally see you again after having to hear so much about you over Christmas."

You giggle as George thumps his brother with his book, face turning almost as red as his hair. "Stupid- git."

"This is the Y/n?" says Ron, another one of George's brothers.

His sister joins in too. "Ah, so you're the reason we had to come back early."

"Early?" you repeat, confused.

"Enough," snaps George. "Piss off, all of you," he says, fruitlessly shoving his siblings away from your table.

He groans. "Come on Y/n, we're leaving." He tugs on your hand, and you snort as his family's antics as you down the last sip of Butterbeer and hop off your seat.

"Until we meet again, Y/n." Fred salutes you as you exit, and you laugh as you wave to the rest of the Weasleys.

"Sorry about them," says George, slightly pink in the cheeks.

"Don't worry," you laugh. "It's fine. But what did Ginny mean when- hey!"

You're cut off as George yanks off his scarf and starts wrapping it around your neck and face. "...It's cold out," he explains weakly as you give him a look.

You pin him down with your gaze, and he sighs. "Fine."

He grabs your hand and leads you away from the Three Broomsticks, brushing snow off a park bench before sitting down.

Every memory he's had with you, every moment he's spent falling for you, flashes through his head.

The shy smile you had in your first few days of meeting, which he could only describe as cute, the mischievous glint in your eye when you'd almost recommended him a romance book, your laugh that he's memorised the sound of... damn it, he better not fuck this up.

You sit down beside him, giving him a concerned look.

"Okay, here it is," he says abruptly. "I like you."

You blink, caught off guard.

"You're so- you're bright," he says. "There's this light in you, and it's so fucking bright, and people don't see it. I don't get that. But whatever, they don't matter. I just mean, I've been pretty much blinded by you since we met... well, since I knocked you over running from Filch. I- god, fuck this metaphor. The point is, every time I'm not with you, I'm just wishing that I was. Cause I like you, and I wish- I'd hoped, that maybe you like me back?"

You're still silent, your brain trying to catch up with what your ears are hearing.

But George takes the silence differently. "It- it's okay if you don't. You know, I don't want to pressure you, at all. It's completely-"

"George." You take his hand. "I like you too, so damn much. I was just... I've never done this before. I didn't know if I should ask you out, or confess, or anything."

George lets out an incredulous breath. "Oh. Well then."

He rests his forehead against yours. "Y/n, will you do me the great honour of becoming my girlfriend."

You're smiling so much it almost hurts. "I'd love to," you whisper.

⭒----⭒

It's only on your first date, that you realise; "You know, we've practically be dating this whole time."

"What do you mean?" asks George, digging into his icecream.

"Meeting up, just the two of us. We've been doing it for ages, except we thought it was just book meetings."

The spoon stills halfway to George's mouth. "...fuck."

You snort, "We're both idiots, aren't we."

"Could've saved me so much grief if I'd known we were already dating. It was well shit, overthinking everything over the holidays."

"You mean when you missed me so much you convinced your whole family to come back to school early?"

"Sod off," he replies, nudging your foot and grinning. "You thought it was cute, anyway."

"I did."

There's a beat, before; "Kissing," you say, pointing your spoon at him. "We weren't totally dating, cause we didn't kiss."

"Right," agrees George, nodding. "Speaking of..."

You let out a laugh, setting your icecream down on the table, and then you let him pull you in.

Silly details cause I can't help myself: Alosia is a music project by dodie, Chaolie is based on Chaol from tog (sorry), and GTL is the fictional author from Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell. Thank you for tolerating my self-indulgent easter eggs.

Thank you for reading, everyone! Hope you enjoyed my first fic in the HP universe <3

#harry potter #george weasley x reader #george weasley x you #george weasley #my writing

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seiya-starsniper · 4 months

Note

Oh I will happily send you prompt requests! Lol.

From the smutty fic prompt list:

15. Corintheus.

Good luck getting to 200k before the end of the year!!

15. A tries to get B jealous as a part of their flirting game. B snaps way harder then A predicted.

OH I LOVE THIS VERY VERY MUCH. I have already written something like this with Dream snapping with jealous rage so I'm going to reverse it this time, as a treat to myself :3 Enjoy this little slice of birthday cake from me to you 💖🍰

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Jealousy is one of humanity’s ugliest emotions. Dream is well aware of this fact, having carried the collective jealousies of all of humanity for billions of years. It is an illogical, hungry, and all-consuming feeling, born of insecurity and envy for things one does not have. Dream has felt jealousy many times in his long-lived existence, and has crafted many a nightmare utilizing the emotion to serve as dark lessons for the collective unconsciousness.

In this exact moment, however, Dream finds himself unexpectedly endeared by the ugliness of jealousy. It is suddenly a stunning emotion, brilliant in its pettiness and sharp edges, authentic in a way most other emotions cannot hope to emulate. In this moment, it is almost beautiful in its ugliness.

It is especially beautiful, he thinks, because the emotion is reflected so perfectly in the Corinthian’s face.

“You are unhappy with my new nightmare then, Corinthian?” he asks, gesturing to his newest creation. The nightmare in front of them is quite similar to the Corinthian; he is tall, handsome and well dressed, but he also wrong. There are green eyes where the ocular mouths would be, dark brown hair instead of blond. They share the same mean smile though, and Dream can easily feel how much the Corinthian hates him.

The Corinthian growls in response to Dream’s inquiry, and then he lunges at the Endless with his dagger.

“Why,” the Corinthian swings just an inch short of Dream’s neck, “does he,” he swings again, and then time Dream lets him cut off just the tiniest bit of hair, “look like me!!” the Corinthian practically screams. Dream only rumbles a laugh in reply, and the nightmare roars before he tries to stab the Endless again.

Dream catches the Corinthian by the wrist and squeezes him hard, forcing the nightmare to drop the blade.

“Why does he have eyes,” the Nightmare demands as he flails uselessly to try to get out of Dream's grip.

“You should be the one to tell me, little nightmare,” Dream replies, his tone sharp. “This nightmare is a different type of dark mirror for humanity and if you only—”

“No!” the Corinthian yells, interrupting Dream mid-sentence and resorting now to kicks and punches. “You can’t make another Corinthian, I won’t let you!”

Dream laughs again, which seems to only make the Corinthian angrier. He starts swinging wildly again, but this time, instead of Dream, the blond tries to kick his legs out to destroy the newly created nightmare, but he is just barely out of reach. Dream sighs, exasperated, before he tosses the Corinthian to the other side of the Shores of Creation. He hides the new nightmare before the blond can cross the sands back to where he is standing.

When the Corinthian reaches Dream, covered in sand and without his signature lenses, he is shaking with fury and indignation, his ocular mouths clenched and hissing loudly.

“What the hell are you playing at Dream?” the Corinthian demands. Dream only shrugs and then he unveils the nightmare from its hiding place, this time revealing its true for to the Arcana. It looks nothing like it did before; instead, the creature is a writhing mess of thorny vines, seemingly all at odds with one another, as if competing to see which appendage would triumph over the others.

“His name is Zephyr,” Dream purrs, pressing his forehead to the newly created dream before he sends it off into its new function. It disappears into the Dreaming in a howl of unending hunger, desperate to devour all that it does not have. “And he is a manifestation of every insecurity, every inadequacy a creature feels in itself.”

Dream turns his gaze back to the Corinthian, who is now wearing a look of dawning horror as he realizes exactly why the nightmare had looked the way it did before.

“Thank you for helping demonstrating just how potent he will be,” Dream continues, his smile just the slightest bit mean. It has the intended effect. The Corinthian comes at Dream with his second dagger in hand.

“You tricked me!” he howls, this time lunging for the space where Dream’s heart would be were he human. Dream merely raises an eyebrow as he easily dodges the nightmare’s attempts.

“Did I, Corinthian?” Dream asks, amusement clear in his tone. “You know full well that I am not to be disturbed when I am creating.”

“You!” the Corinthian exclaims, starting to lunge for Dream again, but then he stops, a new realization coming to him suddenly. “You knew I would come see you. You knew I didn’t follow that rule.”

Dream hums. “You were never good at following directions, Corinthian,” he replies, not even attempting to hide the smugness in his voice.

The Corinthian lunges for him again, this time without the knife. Dream lets the nightmare tackle him into the sand, laughing the entire time.

Yes, he thinks. Jealousy is a lovely look on the Corinthian, especially now that the nightmare knows that Dream had goaded him on purpose. Knows that Dream had preyed upon his insecurities with intent. And still, his singular goal remains to claim Dream as his own. Once again, the Corinthian has outperformed Dream’s expectations of him.

Dream pulls the Corinthian into a rough kiss, and even that is sweeter than normal. The Corinthian had always been a possessive creature, but his posessiveness had always come with a sense of self assurance, a certain smugness that no matter what, he was always going to be a favorite. Dream had condoned that attitude for far too long. It had been endearing early on, but it made the Corinthian arrogant, made him believe that he was above the other dreams and nightmares. Dream needed to remind him of his place.

“Mine,” the Corinthian growls, biting along the column of Dream’s throat.

“You cannot stop me from creating other dreams and nightmares, Corinthian,” Dream moans as the blond reaches beneath his robe to grip at his cock. He squeezes him hard, then starts pumping at a brutal pace that leaves Dream panting and clawing at the Corinthian’s back. Their clothes vanish into the sands of the Shore, and as soon as the Corinthian notices this, he takes both of them in hands and grinds their hips together.

“I’ll kill all of them,” the Corinthian groans as he increases the pace of his strokes. “Starting with that new one.”

“Mmmm,” Dream murmurs, right before he bites down on the Corinthian’s shoulder. “I look forward to watching you try.”

#corintheus #the sandman #the corinthian #dream of the endless #dream x corinthian #sandman fanfiction #seiya writes #seiya writes corintheus #seiya's birthday prompt fills

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justatasteofyourpoison · 1 month

Text

Let’s begin…

(A Hazbin Hotel/Alastor x Fem Reader fan fiction)

Part 7

Yes this has been a long time coming. But let’s face it, when you start getting involved with a new partner you never get all the secrets straight away do you? ;D

Pairing: Alastor x Fem Reader

Warnings: 18+, swearing, alcohol consumption, adult themes, murder/man-slaughter/violence, dark themes, fluff, not the best grammar.

Word count: 1.9k

____________________________________________

“BUT THERE’S NO DANCING WOLVES IN IT!” Sir Pentious exclaimed furiously holding the DVD up and tapping the title with his claws.

“No there’s not Sir Pentious but…” Charlie tried explaining through gritted teeth before being interrupted once again.

“Well my Egg Boys are called that because they’re EGGS and they’re BOYS! Why would a film be called Dances with Wolves if it wasn’t all about breakdancing wolves? I don’t understand!” He raged.

“Right, thank you Sir Pentious! I think we’ll leave it there. Probably not another exercise we’ll try again but thank you for all your thoughts and opinions guys!” Charlie said looking rather bedraggled. “Go about your day!”

“C’mon hun, let’s go get you a drink” Vaggie said softly leading a rather defeated Charlie to the kitchen. “It was meant to be a simple film to grasp…” Charlie moaned allowing herself to be dragged away.

“Another fantastic team building activity!” You chuckled to yourself as everyone departed from the seats in the lobby. As you went to leave your seat familiar black smoke gathered in front of you and Alastor appeared, his famous grin first then the rest of his tall frame.

“Ready for our outing?” He said gesturing towards the door. You could see he had a picnic basket on his arm, which only meant one thing - he was taking you to the forest! Your heart fluttered with excitement, you loved it there.

“I am indeed good Sir!” You exclaimed linking arms with him. “Oh… This is ok isn’t it?” You said forgetting that you both had never really been affectionate in public before.

“No one in hell would dare utter a word about my choice of company my sweet.” He said starting to sound a little fired up. “I want to show you off today.” He said linking your arms back together and pulling you gently towards the door.

As you walked through the city you couldn’t believe the stares - well you could I guess. Most beings were terrified of Alastor, so for them to see him galavanting with someone I guess it was an unusual sight. Someone who wasn’t Rosie that is… After a rather long walk you both arrived in a little clearing in the forest. The large old trees loomed over you both, but it felt more comforting than ominous, like they were tall protectors offering themselves as shelter.

Alastor laid down the red blanket and started placing the food and drink out meticulously. It was all only food that you would eat and you felt quite overwhelmed for the effort he had put in for you. But at least he could enjoy a glass of red wine.

“Cheers my dear.” He said clinking his glass with yours “to the most ravishing girl in hell.” You blushed. “Cheers Alastor, thank you for all this.” You said gratefully.

“No bother at all” he smiled. “I just wanted you to be comfortable for our little history lesson…” He said taking a swig of his wine before carefully standing it on the uneven ground. “Are you ready? Thorns and all?”

“Yes Alastor” you said, trying to hide the nervous feeling which had crept up on you.

“Then I guess the best place to start is from the beginning…” he said, the tone of his voice changing like he was about to go live on air.

“The first few years I spent in hell were quite the blur, but I guess it feels that way for everyone. You have to accept the fact that you’re dead and you have to try to start again in this unfamiliar and forlorn world. I wandered about aimlessly for a long time, until I finally realised that I was going to be here a long time, so I might as well start living. No pun intended!

In life, I had always adored the radio. The nights I would sit up with my mother as a child just listening to the music, those were comforting times… I’d never broadcasted though while living, but had always wanted to. So now I was dead I thought maybe I could give it a go, better late than never they always say! So I took residence in an old radio tower, a little bit like the one at the hotel. It my haven away from the messy streets of the city and I did little broadcasts about gossip going about hell and would play some of my favourite old records. I certainly didn’t have many listeners, but oh it just felt good to get my voice out there! I would wait tables when I could to get by and spend any extra pennies to buy new equipment to improve the studio.”

“But then… I don’t remember when, but one year I started to have this uncontrollable feeling come over me. I would stay awake at night thinking that madness had taken over me. I couldn’t shake off this feeling of desire and rage. It wasn’t until I was walking down the city streets one day and saw an old book in bargain bin outside a shop that I finally deciphered what was happening to me. Classic Taxidermy it was called. On the front cover was the head of a mighty stag mounted on a wall. It suddenly clicked; I’d manifested in hell as this Deer Demon so of course I would take on their characteristics. The annual rut was a big thing when I was alive, several times I’d been in bars and heard avid huntsman talking about the season’s activities.” Alastor paused and looked up at the sky as if he was searching for memories.

“Of course the rut is when stags fight for, and breed the females, so the feeling I had felt now made sense. But a nervousness stired in me. I hadn’t been with anyone in Hell and found most beings were very wary of me, apart from a select few... There was one girl who was a regular at the bar I worked in and we struck it off fairly quickly. One night during a rut I asked her to come back to my place… Unfortunately my desire got the best of me back then and I lost all control that night… I was too rough...” His voice trailed to a whisper and his eyes looked downcast.

After a moment that felt like an eon Alastor cleared his throat and continued. “Realising I couldn’t restrain myself when it came to intimacy I decided to take my feelings out in a different way. I didn’t want to cause harm innocent females, I wanted to use the increased power that came with the rut in a more productive way. So, I started by cleansing the streets of hell, taking out the very dregs of society.”

“One night I was chasing down a notorious wretch when he tried to bargain for his life. He offered me his soul to spare him, and in owning his soul he would do any bidding as and when I desired. I decided to indulge him to see if he would be worth my while. The contract was drawn and as he signed it I felt the power flow through me, it was magnificent! I decided to do this with every other being I hunted down, and of course fearing where they’d end up after hell the majority sold their souls to me. And the ones that didn’t… Well let’s just say I started broadcasts to let everyone in hell know what would happen if they dare cross me. That’s when I commonly became know as the Radio Demon. However, some beings learned of my abilities and bargained with me to save their own powers when they were under threat. I was always happy to oblige. Having a soul with a bit of added flare to do you bidding was even more useful.”

“So, as you see for much of my time in hell during rutting season I would use my rage and desire to gather up more souls. Souls are power my darling and now I am one of the most feared overlords in the land. But obviously I wanted to help Charlie with her endeavour and a Hotel being ran by someone like me isn’t a great look… So I tried to tone myself down a little bit, live a quieter life. And then you appeared, with your zest and liveliness. And such a beautiful darkness… Once rutting season began this year I still needed to satisfy my hunger. But I didn’t want to ruin the Hotel’s reputation, therefore going on a soul gathering rampage wasn’t an option. So I thought why not try to take my rut out in the traditional way? I’d longed to taste you… Of course I have done some of my late night broadcasts but that has only been because a being has challenged me and I needed to put them in their place…” he paused and put his hand on your thigh. “I hope all this hasn’t scared you Y/N” he said softly.

You sat there a little dumbfounded trying to process all the information you had just heard. “So when we first… Uhh… Got together… There was a chance you could have killed me?” You said having to force the words out of your mouth.

“No, unless I wanted to of course!” Alastor laughed tying to play down the situation.

“No I wouldn’t, all the power I have now has put me in perfect control of myself. I would never lay a finger on you. Apart from when you like it of course” he said coyly giving you a playful peck on the cheek.

“Well that is a relief!” You sighed before taking a large sip of wine. But you couldn’t help but feel slightly sad about what you had heard, you knew that Alastor had killed before. But when it was a being who hadn’t done wrong… Then again, people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones - you were in hell and you had your own wrong doings to bear… You tried to shake off the melancholy feeling and focus.

“I kind of understand you using your ruts in this way… You needed the relief….” You began. “But is there a reason you need all this power? Do you just want power for the sake of it or is there a reason you need it?” You said gazing intently at the Radio Demon.

“A fine question, you won’t leave any stone unturned will you Y/N?” He chuckled. Well yes I have left a large portion of the story out… The reason why I need all this power is because of that obnoxious flat faced fuck that you see on every TV screen in hell!” He spat.

Alastor’s eyes became black and a crack of thunder was heard overhead. His eyes quickly returned to their usual scarlet as he realised what was happening and he swiftly grabbed your hand. “Looks like we’re going to get some acid rain, let’s get you home. I’d rather finish the story off away from possible prying eyes and ears anyway.” He said quickly opening an umbrella over you and ushering you in the direction home.

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All instalments:

#hazbin hotel #alastor #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel writing #alastor x female reader #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut #fanfic #sir pentious #hazbin hotel sir pentious #Vaggie #hazbin hotel vaggie #charlie morningstar #hazbin hotel charlie #vizziepop #vox #vox hazbin hotel

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