#it was just to be cruel and mock him and cause him pain

[mrssylvatica]

“Evanesced Sylvatica”

1250 | SFW angst, dead alfons x pregnant reader. largely unfinished

This fanfiction is rated Teen, but keep in mind that the game, Ikemen Villains, is intended for a more mature audience.

◇ CW: Heavy themes of grief, implied sex (not explicit), graphic descriptions of injuries, the reader is biologically female but no pronouns are used, awkward writing and dialogue, half finished, not proofread I cringed too hard.  This was written at 5 am.

“Promise me you won't cry.”

◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇

(I haven't read his path, so this is bound to be inaccurate.  And OOC.)

You knew about the curse that haunted him, yet your soft hands grasped his, gently bringing the harsh black leather to your lips.  How you sweetly, so innocently vowed that you’d never forget him for as long as you lived.

You sweet fool.

Even after your pregnancy, Alfons still lived at Crown's castle.  He couldn’t just leave Elbert, and his abilities were too powerful to throw away.  It wasn’t like Alfons had any problem staying with Crown.

Honestly, it’s more surprising that you didn’t get pregnant sooner.  You already knew Alfons was naturally an intense partner, and each time…  Alfons tended to leave permanent mementos on your skin.  He held you so tight as if he was scared you would run away from him otherwise.  Each time your lips met, it was as if he was trying to embed himself into you permanently.  So you two would become one in body and soul, so you two would never part.

You two would lay side by side in each other's arms, or sometimes you rested your head on his chest, and Alfons would plant a small kiss atop your head, sweetly whispering to you until you slept.  His comforting warmth enveloped you in the darkness.  Sometimes you two would talk in the dead of night:

“Will you remember me, even after I die?  Perhaps you should forget, so you won’t need to face the sorrow in my absence.”

“Don’t talk like that...” Tears filled your eyes and your hands curled up into fists on top of his chest.  In response, Alfons chuckled and caressed your head.

“Shh.  Perhaps happy memories should be forgotten, or it’ll hurt more.”

“But I’d be so lonely without you.”

“I’ll always be here.”  He tapped on his chest.  “My scar is on your heart.  But even though it’ll cause you pain, I still want you to remember me.  To remember all the love we’ve had.  ...What a fool I am.”

Ah, God clearly never intended for this gift of a man to be loved.

You would continue watching plays together, every week.  Sometimes he would stop at the stalls and buy a bouquet or two.  You thought the cruel fate— or maybe Alfons himself— was mocking you with all the forget-me-nots.  Alfons would pridefully guide you through town, strolling at a leisurely pace.

“You see?  All these people.  They all know I love you.”

“But our love is forever in vain.”

“I know.  But isn’t it the moment of pleasure, those fleeting moments of happiness that matter most?”

You two would sit side by side, with your fingers interlocked and your head resting on his shoulder.  Sometimes you would fall asleep, and Alfons couldn’t bring himself to wake you up.  Your sleeping face was much more amusing to watch than the performance before you.

Alfons would caress your stomach, cooing to your child softly.  He’d scold the child for causing you pain with its little kicks.  “That’s not very proper of you to rival against someone who cares for you so much, is it?  Show some manners, won’t you?  Be like your father.”  This would always get a chuckle out of you, knowing how ill-mannered Alfons could be himself.

You knew Alfons would never go down without a fight against all odds.  But now he lay in a dark lake of his own blood, his abdomen split open and his trusty sword lying dull at his side.  Guts spilled from his fatal wound, and you could see the dark red intestines streaming out of the wound, limping at his side.  Scarlet tainted his ghostly pale skin.  You smelled nothing but the cruel iron liquid, tears clouding your vision as you refused to leave.

The world seemed to have stilled, your breathing shallow and your heart pounding in your chest.  How you wish you could offer your own body, giving up your life so he could stay alive.  His oppressors had left, and only you remained by his side.  Alfons was in an indescribable amount of pain, yet he forced a smile, just for you.  “Shh...  shh...”

You kneeled over his body, trembling.  Even if you called for help, it would be in vain.  It was hopeless for him now.  With a trembling hand, he weakly cupped your cheek, too weak and defeated to speak.  You held the hand to your cheek, feeling his strength fade.  He forced out these words from his lips:

“Promise me you won't cry.”

You were left clutching at the air, crying without knowing why.  All you knew is that your heart ached, with your throat choking itself, all without reason.

You now went to plays alone and came home alone.  But none of it interested you.  You thought it would give some sort of clue if you kept going, but nothing.  Nothing.  It was as if you where chasing a ghost.  Or perhaps a bird that had flown away.  Or perhaps a fleeting moment.

One day, in desperation, you called out someone’s name.  “Lord Elbert?”  You had been scared to approach Elbert since your pregnancy because the young lord was jealous of “his” attention.  Elbert turned around with elegant, gentle marble features set in a stone-like expression.  Fingertips coated with red curled around a fallen sparrow, its skull smashed in.  You felt nauseous at the sight.

“Have you felt anything...  missing as of late?”  At these words, Elbert’s expression became twisted and tormented.  You could have sworn you saw fear in those eyes.  Elbert turned and left with heavy yet silent footsteps, without a single word.

You now lie in bed, holding your newborn child to your chest.  Many quiet, sleepless nights were spent like this, staring up into the empty ceiling.  Something crucial was missing, but you didn't know what.  Sometimes your chest would heave, and you would let the searing tears guide you to the medicine called sleep.

His memory haunted you around every corner.  You would come home from the market in good spirits, only to be met with cold silence.  Opening a door excitedly and finding the room empty.  The scent of “him” still lingering, but the person in question remained absent.  You would stare at the open air, waiting for something to appear.  As if “he” would jump out from under the table and assure you it was all just an elaborate joke.

“He” tried so desperately to engrave himself into your body and soul, but he had left your memory in the blink of an eye.  How comforting it was to live in an illusion, to let hope blind you from the truth.  Your heart felt so empty that any sort of sensation, any sort of comfort or relief would do.  You just wanted to feel something again.  But you felt something to begin with?  And what did you even feel?  You didn't need any of these feelings.  You had no idea where any of them came from or why they were there.

This poisonous pain wouldn’t stop seeping into your very being.  You wanted this pain to go away.  You didn’t need it, you didn’t want it.

As your child grew, they bore more and more resemblance to someone you used to know.  You held their face in your hands, staring into their twinkling eyes.  Their luscious raven hair.  But who?  You didn't know.  You wouldn't even be able to know.  It was as if someone had pulled a dark blindfold over one person.

“What kind of person was he?”  You had no answer.

Author's Notes

I've had this idea in my head for quite a while, but I was unable to do it justice... Again, I probably shouldn't have wrote it at 5 am.

SHITPOST MAIN: @rou-luxe

[emry-stars-art]

Thoughts on prince Riko’s “perfect court” before anyone escaped Evermore ( @thefoxesraven pls remind me if it was you with the branding vs tagging idea on that insta live)

@snazzy-jas-z-is-a-fan-of came up with SO MUCH of the possible politics and family ties of this au, it was incredible to watch and I think I finally understand enough to post about it 😂 there’s a balance of power between the two branches of Evermore royalty, which balance is shifting slowly to the Moriyamas and by the end of the story belongs solely to them with Ichirou as king. I’ll try to explain it in a different post if there’s interest

(And lest we go a day without Abram angst: he does in fact get his brand and more, when he’s taken back to Evermore and Riko takes the chance to reclaim his property ‘like he should have done to begin with’.)

[diejager]

reader who still tries to get her mom to know whats happening to her, what they're doing to her, but her mom refuses to notice. reader getting so sad about this and konig/horangi seeing a chance of make her feel even more helpless. könig who smirk when he sees reader crying again because her mom doesn't even want to listen that her husband is being weird with her daughter :( horangi cooing in fake sympathy while he brutally fucks her that her mom will never listen to her, that konig is much more important to her mom than her. anyway i think they are sooooo sick and twisted every opportunity they have to make her feel bad and helpless they will take advantage of! she cant ever escape them >:)

Cw: DARKFIC, DUB-CON/NON-CON, STEPCEST, age gap, spanking, dracryphilia, spitroast, creampie, unprotected sex, PinV, rough sex, degradation, condensation, tell me if I misse any.

Every attempt to bring to light their obsession and disgusting acts are met with roughness punishment, their jarringly, cruel chuckles and the mercilessness of their rough hands. König did most of the punishing with Horangi as his accomplice, holding your feet down on your bed while you were laid over König’s lap, his wide and hot palm soothing your naked ass. He was your stepfather, it was only natural that he did the reprimanding, scolding his baby for causing trouble for him and his friend.

He always smoothed the skin before landing a hit, your ass jostling with every hit that had you jerking and hissing, before he smoothed it over again. Spanking you was his go-to punishment when you acted out, pain was a better deterrent than pleasure and bribes were, you reacted to it more strongly than a good and hard fucking. He’d land one hard and two gentler ones on your left cheek, caressing it tenderly before doing the same to your right one, it was a rinse and repeat act. They cooed and laughed at you, scolding you with condescending tones that would - hopefully - put you in your place. You cried, sobs that rendered them unable to stop themselves from slipping a finger in while you were being spanked, your cheeks tear-strained and your ass swollen and bruised.

You probably wouldn’t be able to sit without hissing for the next few days while the bruises subsided and the pain would linger for a longer period because they were so rough with you, picking you up and making you ride them until they came. Your body hurt and you were tired, your legs numbed and walls milking them dry, labia swollen and cervix battered by your stepdad’s thick and veiny cock with his unusually large girth from tip to base.

It didn’t help that your tears and sobs only excited them, their taunts and insults burning your skin as much as the flush of your cheeks burned you with shame. It proved as an incentive to plough into you harder as your depressive murmurs and your feelings of helplessness, their hips driving harshly into you with greater enthusiasm, loud and wet slaps echoing in the empty house.

“Don’t cry, 애인,” Horangi smiled, a mock of sympathy in his eyes, glazed over with sadistic glee, “I know, but you’ll choke.” [sweetheart.]

He pushed his cock deeper, your nose tickled by his dirty pubes, wet with slick and drool, smelling musky with a smell of sex and sweat. You retched loudly when König pushed you harshly into Horangi, the tip of his cut cock tapping the back of your throat where it laid heavily on the fla tof your tongue. He gripped your hair, fingers digging into your scalp to hold you still while König bucked into you, pounding Horangi’s cum out of your cunt from he sides, his cock so thick that it took all the space. You gagged, squirming wildly under them with fresh tears down your face, you couldn’t breathe with him down your throat, his length stopping you from taking in much-needed air into your dazed mind.

“Fuck, just a bit more,” Horangi groaned, throwing his head back as he came down your throat, gushing from the tip of his leaky cock. “You look so pretty crying.”

You chocked around him, throat closing to swallow down the cum that trickled down to prevent yourself from drowning in his salty and tangy cream. A part of it exploded out, your cheeks swelling until it couldn’t take anymore, white cream dripping down your spread lips and chin, drawing a filthy line on your body and onto your couch. You were cross-eyed, back arched and body limp between them, using the armrest and your stepdad’s grip as your support stay on your knees, legs quacking with every rough thrust from him, punching what little air was left in your chest.

“Scheiße, the prettiest,” König heaved loudly, pressing his sweaty chest to you back, head over your shoulder while he whispered filthy things he wanted to do to you when you were crying and sad that you mother couldn’t see the darkness in them or how awful their treated you. He rutted into you with ferocity, teeth grinding, pushed onward with Horangi’s encouraging words, his convoluted thoughts for a future with you between them, “Unser hübscher Schatzi.” [Shit, the prettiest. Our pretty darling.]

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @danielle143 @dont-mind-me-just-existing-sadly @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @kaelysia @notspiders @velvetsoulweaver @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake

[ervotica]

the ones we love (will destroy us)

pairing; aegon ii targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader

tags; twincest (lol i'm sorry yk what the targaryens are like), aegon is so sad and babygirl and an idiot, hurt/comfort

note; heavily reworked repost of an old fic that i adored writing but needed a lot of editing! (i still lowkey hate it tho)

“Why is Aegon staring at you?” Aemond asks, a cruel smirk cracking his perpetually stoic facade; the's mocking in the way his gaze falls between you and Aegon, not entirely genuine as he takes amusement in his older brother’s miserable pining. Aegon watches your discussion with Aemond, sour faced from across the dining table. You’ve taken it upon yourself to sit as far away from him as you can manage; and where you’re usually attached at the hip - though he knows you’re arguing - he can’t deny the ache in his chest from your lack of acknowledgement. You're cold, unflinching as you stare right through him as though he's irrelevant, as though he's worth nothing to you.

“Because he’s a twat,” you answer bluntly. Aemond barks out a short laugh, coarse and harsh, that penetrates the quiet chatter of the room. Heads start to turn towards your avid conversing with your younger brother.

“What are you two bickering about now?”

“If he thinks it’s funny to to speak ill of me to everyone in the seven fucking kingdoms, I don't want anything to do with him.” Your lips purse as you cross your arms; Alicent eyes you, watching the tick of your jaw and flare of your nostrils - you’re upset, even if you’re excellent at masking it. 

Aemond watches on amusedly as your twin grows increasingly agitated the more you pointedly avoid his glances. Your mother frowns.

“Y/n, don’t you feel you’re perhaps being a little hard on Aegon?” 

“No.”

“He's your twin brother!” she sighs, ever frustrated by your stubbornness and your twin’s lack of consideration for anybody’s feelings, even yours at times.

“He’s still a twat.”

Aegon huffs and rolls his eyes. 

You continue to only speak about him indirectly. When you turn to Jace, he grins.

“Jace,” you start, clasping your hands where they lay on the dining table in front of you, “If someone said that you were ‘an ugly whore with no friends’ - as he so eloquently put it - would you be upset?”

“He said that?” Jace's jaw falls slack. “Wait, no. He honestly said that about you?”

The table clatters, cutlery bouncing, and Aegon stands abruptly, face screwed up in that way it does when he’s about to cry.

“It wasn’t like that!”

“How else could you possibly have meant it?” You’re incredulous, covering your misery with spiteful words. You want to make him hurt, make him feel your pain, but run to him for comfort all at once.

“Not-”

“Gods, just be quiet,” you mutter. Your face is hot as you turn away and you feel your eyes prickling with the threat of an onslaught of tears. Aegon cringes, drawn tight and tense as though you share one body, as though he can feel the pain he’s putting you through. Your upset has always caused him real physical distress, from when you were tiny children and still to this day. Your voice lowers to a whisper. “You’re so mean.”

“Y/n-“

You’ve never seen him quite this distressed; his cheeks flush pink and ruddy and his eyes start to water and gloss over, not dissimilar to your own expression - though you’re much better at concealing your emotions. His nostrils flare the way they only do when he cries: the way they did when he sobbed in your arms for hours after your mother rejected his pleas for affection once again, the way he cried when you were ten years old and your father interrupted him every time he tried to speak. Your bottom lip trembles. 

“Please,” he croaks. Your brows knit and crease your forehead as your chest tightens; you bite the inside of your cheek with such force that you draw blood. 

You stand and the solid wooden dining chair thumps against the floor. Aegon mirrors your movements, rushing towards the exit in your wake.

Once you’ve left the presence of your family, the tears come hard and fast and unrelenting. They’re hot against your cheeks, damp as your hands shake to scrub them away, leaving only a tender sting and blooming heat in your touch’s wake.

“Please talk to me.” The door creaks shut and then Aegon’s voice cuts through the sounds of your sniffles; you spin on your heel and he surges towards you in a bout of energy, clasping one of your hands in both of his larger ones. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that about you, it was mean. And you should be angry with me. I miss you and I love you and I'll never, ever speak a cruel word against you again.”

“Did you mean it?” you ask; he lurches to latch himself to your body, anxious as though you’ll push him away at any given moment. His arms are tight and unmoving around your waist.

“No.” He shakes his head vehemently, “I don't know why I said it. I just wanted the others to respect me but shouldn’t have said such awful things. The only person I need is you.”

“What?”

“I don’t care about any of that now. None of it matters to me if you’re not by my side.” 

His body shudders when your arms close and tighten around his body and a sob looses from his throat. Your voice is thick as you murmur in his ear. 

“You hurt my feelings.” 

His head falls to the dip of your shoulder and he clings to you with a strength that you’re not unfamiliar with; it cracks your heart all the same.

“Please forgive me, sweetling. Please.” The velvet of your dress darkens in splotches where his tears fall. “I love you.”

You know he really is remorseful; the guilt eats at him until he can’t feel anything else, not until you’ve reconciled. He's always been the same, ever since you were six and he hit you in the face; you didn’t speak to him for four days and he cried with such vigour that he made himself sick.

“I love you,” you can’t help but whisper back. “But if you ever do something like that again, I won’t be so forgiving.”

He laughs wetly, an odd sound that gets caught in his chest as he presses further into your embrace. 

“Can I have a kiss?”

You hook a finger under his chin and tilt his damp face towards your own. His lips fill with air and push out into a pout. 

His muscles go soft and relax the second your lips mesh with his; your fingers tangle in the short hairs at the nape of his neck. He angles his head and deepens the kiss, licks into your mouth and murmurs something imperceptible. When you pull yourself away, he chases you, desperate to be close. 

“Love you,” he mumbles, plying you with damp, open mouthed kisses across your cheeks and neck. They leave glistening half moons in his wake. “I‘m so sorry.”

“I know,” you say, tucking your head in the hollow of his throat. “I forgive you, alright?”

A laboured breath forces its way out of his lungs when your arm wraps around his neck for a hug.

“I didn't like you sitting next to Aemond,” he sighs. You shush him, rubbing thumbs over his eyebrows and down his cheeks in unbridled affection. “I want you to sit next to me.”

“I always sit next to you,” you murmur. “I was upset, remember?”

“I know,” he whines. “but you’re mine.”

“Don’t be a baby,” you giggle. “I spend all of my time with you.”

He squeezes you tight then and buries his face in your hair. You grunt with the force of his weight.

“I missed you.”

[charlottecutepie]

｡ꪆৎ ˚ Bully (Michael Afton x fem!reader)

while I'm writing fics with William (and making some people’s requests!), i decided to post Michael smut bc there’s lack of content about this boy :)

summary: you're mad at both Simon and Michael for not helping you with project. But guys only mock you, saying stupid jokes about your ex. Wait, was it you or Michael’s voice sounded rather… jealous?

tags: Michael is jealous and kind of possessive, bully!Mike, mention of break up, smut, vaginal sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, kind of rough sex?? (Michael can’t control himself), William Afton mentioned

"Stop smoking." in a loud, angry tone, you tell to a couple of guys beside. One of them turns around and blows smoke right in your face, laughing. "Fuck you, Simon."

"Don't tell me what to do, tuts," Simon frowns and leans against his friend Michael, who was busy reading comics, not paying attention to you. "You've been too nervous and angry lately." guy notices. "Is it because of your ex?"

"Of course, no dick and she's all worked up." Michael adds fuel to the fire without even bothering to turn to you. However, his back stiffened.

"What are you talking about? What does this have to do here? We have a fucking project together and I'm only one doing something, that's why I'm mad at you!"

Simon didn't answer because he just didn't know what to say. You were right. He and Michael didn't do shit, only you worked on the task. Simon just gave you a blank look, raising his eyebrows mockingly. There was a rage boiling inside you that almost made your face turn red.

"Ran after him like a tail." Michael lets out a strangled laugh, finally turning to you, his fingers clutching the comic. "You really loved that boy so much, didn't you?"

Now it's your turn to shut up. Insults and obscenities rise in your throat, threatening to jump out. Michael's face didn't flinch for a second as he continued to pierce you with blue eyes, as if trying to make you uncomfortable, which was puzzling. Michael has always been like this: aggressive, with cruel and stupid jokes, cheeky taunts. But why do his words sound like he's jealous now? Why so much attention to your personal life?

"You two are completely useless, I'll have to ask teacher to pair me with other students." you sigh, putting all your notes, notebooks, sunglasses in your bag, and the next second you leave both guys behind.

Their behavior, especially Simon, who was like Michael's faithful dog, doing everything just to get approval from its owner, infuriated and caused indignation. But more than that, you were hurt their comments about your personal life. Your ex has nothing to do with it.

You go back to school walking through empty corridors since classes have already ended. Of course, you'd have been home a long time ago, too, but thanks to a couple of jerks, you're stuck here until tonight. You angrily punch Michael's school locker, ripping off the poster of his favorite rock band.

"Fuck you, Michael Afton!" you swear, crumpling the poster in your hands and throwing it on the floor.

You had no idea that someone was following you slowly and carefully through the corridors.

Upset and frustrated, you enter lady's bathroom, go to the mirror and look at yourself carefully. Why, you think, he broke up with me? What happened between us?

You straighten your hair, carefully laying it on your shoulders, without interrupting eye contact with your reflection. You need to push these thoughts away, now is not the best time for self-reflection, you need to gather your strength and finish this damn project.

You try to find something in your bag as you take out a lip gloss from your makeup bag. And again feeling of sadness and longing comes through. Now it feels wrong and hurtful whenever you look at that gloss. Your boyfriend always liked it when you applied it. And now it's a painful reminder that will haunt you for a long time. It's just not fair.

Just when you're about to throw that lip gloss in the trash, someone comes into the bathroom. You think it's another girl, so you don't pay attention.

"It was my favorite poster." Michael's voice is slightly angry. An unpleasant surprise is reflected on your face as you turn to him, pressing lip gloss to your chest. This is definitely not what you expected to see in the women's bathroom.

"What the fuck are you doing here?!" you hiss at Afton, looking him up and down. "You've been following me?"

"Knowing what a crybaby you are, it was the right decision." Michael shoves his hands into the pockets of his ripped jeans, leaning against the wall. "What if you went to hang yourself? And then Simon and I would be accused of driving to suicide."

"Stop your idiotic jokes at least now! Can't you see that I feel too bad?" you grit your teeth and frown. Your voice sounds offended. Michael's behavior has always been infuriating, but now it crosses all boundaries.

"My father taught me that if a girl is upset, she needs to be supported. That's how all gentlemen behave." the young man says with a sneer.

"Fuck you and your dad, Mike," you shout. "you're just like him, you selfish jerk!"

"Mmm," Michael nods, grinning. "the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

You are silent again, not knowing what to say to this insolence. Does Afton really think that in eyes of other people, he's all cool and cocky? Doesn't he realize how stupid his behavior is? Yes, he is certainly a copy of his dad, Mr. Afton, but with a slight difference. The last one has at least some brains.

"My eyes are up here, honey," Michael grins, noticing your gaze. You blink in surprise, raising an eyebrow. "Come on, aren't you ashamed of yourself?"

"I didn't even look there, you idiot." you fold your arms over your chest and turn away, lifting your chin. That's when Michael pushes you against the wall, towering over you.

"Sure." he can't help but smile stupidly. "I must say, you have beautiful eyes, princess. That's what he called you, right?" there was something wrong with Michael's intonation, even this mockery sounded like he wanted to hurt not you, but himself. There was definitely a hint of jealousy in the young man's tone, although you didn't pay attention to it.

With every action and word of Michael, anger grows inside you, which has been accumulating all this time. And then the mixture of all the negative emotions finally reaches the top. You can't get over how much of an asshole Michael is. You'd do anything to shut him up, just to show him his place. But it doesn't take much time, the anger breaks out. Putting the lip gloss back in the bag, you raise your hand and slap Michael hard in the face.

Afton's cheek burns from your blow, it hurts unpleasantly so it takes him a couple of seconds to come to his senses, then he raises his head at you. His hand instantly reaches for the red mark, stroking it to ease the pain. Yes, it was insulting, even a little humiliating, but again he hides it behind an arrogant and satisfied grin.

However, his next words are strangely surprising.

"You know what?" Michael says in a calm voice. "That was hot."

You look at him, not even hiding your disgust at his words. Michael is such an asshole, even much worse than Simon and their two other bully friends. No wonder why Afton is the leader of their stupid bully four.

Just as you're about to slap him again, Afton grabs your wrist, pulling you closer to him. Your eyes widen with shock from his his behavior, you try to break free. Your heart is beating faster from misunderstanding. Being in the hands of a bully, in such an intimate position, when anyone can enter here, makes the situation even more dangerous.

"How stupid of him to lose a beautiful girl like you," Michael whispers, looking at your face, at how your lips are trembling. "I'll repeat, my father taught me to support when girl is sad." the last thing he says before leaning in for a kiss.

For a second, everything in your body, especially brain, stopped working, you froze. Even though Michael is holding you, you don't even try to pull away. Afton's actions become bolder because he sees no resistance, so he tries to get his tongue into your mouth. And that's when you finally realize what's going on and push him away.

"Fuck off, you idiot." you mumble, looking at him point-blank.

"I see that such support isnt enough." Michael bares his teeth and pushes his knee right between your legs what makes your skirt rise a little. At that moment, you blush and try to pull it back, but Michael's hand stops you.

You froze in another shock from another sudden kiss. You expected him to do everything but that. You try to push him away, but it's hard to get out of his grip. Or is it you who's fighting too weakly? At first kiss doesn't seem so pleasant, but then Michael deepens it as his hand moves to your waist, hugging you. The kiss gets more intense when you start responding, your body melts under Afton's touch. You don't even have time to keep up with your thoughts, confused by your own actions.

His lips suddenly feel so warm and pleasant which makes you want more, crave even more of this feeling: to be held like this, to be kissed like this even if it's Michael damn Afton. You wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him harder. This isn't what you planned when you went here.

When he pulls away from you, you are in oblivion, heat is burning inside. Michael looks at you hungrily, not understanding why you responded. He lets you go and you stumble away from him, but after a moment your back hits wall. You're trying to figure out what just happened. Did he really just kissed you? And you responded with same? Why did this happen at all? There are more questions than answers.

Your heart is pounding as you stare at him, into his eyes, trying to read the answers in them. He caught you off guard, but you didn't push him off right away, you even started responding. The bitter truth is that you liked it more than you wanted to admit. The way he kisses, kind of rude but so hot… It caused an exciting pleasant feeling. But you don't understand how you can be attracted to this bully, in fact, a tormentor, a brute. All thoughts are fucked up and your legs feel like cotton wool.

Michael is elated to see the confusion on your face.

"Little miss hard-to-get," he says, running a finger over his lips. "always trying to be unapproachable." you're staring at him, heart is still pounding from the kiss. You can't find words. Michael feels your vulnerability and it only gives him confidence. "Don't pretend you didn't like it," he says with a sly grin. "I know it by the way you melt in my arms.

So he's also a romantic. However, he sucks at making tremulous speeches.

Feeling of annoyance reappears.

You try to deny it, but deep inside you know that Michael's words are true. You hate what's happening, what you've gotten yourself into. You blame yourself for enjoying it. A feeling of incomprehensible and inexplicable resentment grows inside: why couldn't HE make you feel like this? Why does it have to be Michael? It's unfair.

It's wrong to be aroused by Michael, to feel a pleasant tingling in the lower belly. Wrong, you keep telling yourself. You need to slap that cocky face one more time and get out of here. Forget about everything that just happened.

Why the hell does it have to be Michael? You have to act like this with your boyfriend, it's almost cheating. But a second later, a bitter realization comes to your clouded mind. Right… You don't have a boyfriend anymore.

Michael sees the contradiction on your face and decides to try his luck, as if reading your mind.

"Maybe I'm the one you should be with," he leans closer. "I mean look at me," he says, pointing at himself. "I'm handsome, confident and I know how to treat a girl." he chuckles softly.

No way! You shake your head trying to come to your senses. You know what he's doing, trying to manipulate emotions by hitting on your weak spot: ex. But for some reason, you don't deny his words. It's strange, the feeling of impermanence, misunderstanding is infuriating. And Michael is like some kind of drug right now that you can't resist. Your palms sweating.

You're trying to regain your composure, push him away. But you don't don't strength, especially moral one, to do that. So you just look into his blue eyes, trying to understand the strange feeling inside.

"Have you been jealous all this time?" you ask, without realizing the question yourself, now you are acting only on emotions.

That's when the picture finally starts to show up… Michael's words, actions. All those stares, all those sneers. It was Michael's jealousy, which he could only show in this way.

"Jealous?" he repeats, his eyes widen slightly at your question. Michael was even surprised that you understood so quickly. "You have a rich imagination."

But you know better now. You didn't notice it at all before, spending all your time with your boyfriend. But others, especially Michael's friends, noticed the way he looked at you. Now it's getting clearer, now you see it. He was motivated and is still by something more than just hatred and the desire to mock you forever.

"Don't lie, you're really jealous." it seems that your words hurt him more than you thought. He looks away, staring at the floor.

"Maybe," Michael admits quietly. "maybe i am."

You feel a strange sense of victory, realizing that you've figured out reason of his stupid behavior. But at the same time, you feel guilty. You shouldn't like how the situation is developing and where it's all leading.

When you look into Michael's eyes, the tension only increases. It's as if all the pent-up emotions have been spilling out for so long, turning into an inexplicable lump that confuses both of you.

Suddenly his hands pull your hips closer to him, and you feel his erection through his pants. You both sigh from the close contact. Michael leans in kissing you again, his fingers sliding under your t-shirt, tracing the outline of your breasts. You moan softly into his mouth. Afton pulls away and begins to cover your chin line with hot, wet kisses, then your neck. You tilt your head back, closing your eyes, surrendering to the sensations. You don't want to think so you drive common sense and thoughts away.

Michael slips his fingers behind your bra, unbuttoning it. After that, he gently rolls your nipple in his mouth, sucking on it a little. You exhale, clutching at his hair. This is madness, it's impossible to stand it anymore. Michael's lips leave a trail of passionate kisses along your collarbone, his fingers teasingly descend to your stomach. He stops for a moment to look at you, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You know," he begins, his voice already hoarse with arousal. "I can get any girl I want."

You bite your lip, trying not to show how much you enjoy it. You realize that Michael is just trying to play on your nerves.

"Yeah?" you ask, trying to hide a groan. "Then what makes me so special?"

Michael grins darkly, his fingers tracing your sensitive nipple.

"I don't know," he replies, and gets a menacing look from you that says he's about to get a smack on head. "Maybe it's because you're so damn sexy when you play hard to get."

His compliments and flirting, if you can call it so, are pretty stupid and dumb, but then why do they cause pleasant goosebumps that cover the whole body? You want this. You need him. You can feel desire intensifying with every second, body craves his touch. You turn to face the wall, pressing your butt against his hard-on, letting him know exactly what you want, even though Michael understood everything a long time ago. And he wants the same thing.

"That's it," he breathes, giving you a kiss on the neck. "You want me to fuck you, don't you?"

"Yes," you're squirming. "I want you to fuck me." you meet his gaze, giving him puppy eyes.

Without wasting a second, he lowers his hand down, his fingers push your soaked panties aside, exposing your already dripping pussy to the cool air.

"God, you're so fucking wet…"

Michael's fingers slide between your folds, exploring your wet cunt. Your knees are buckling, and you have to lean against the wall to keep your balance. Michael smiles slyly, his fingers sweetly toying with your clit. You're whimpering, snuggling up against him, pushing up your skirt. He sighs noisily, thrusting two fingers into you at once, sliding them deeper and deeper inside, stretching you as your body shudders with pleasure.

"Lovely, such a good girl." he mutters, still moving his fingers. "cum for me, cum on my fingers." he whispers.

You grab onto the wall as a pleasant shiver runs through your whole body. Michael continues to stimulate your clit, making you arch. And you reach the peak, your body shivers.

"I've wanted you for so long." his hand turns your face to him, Michael looks deep into your eyes. "Your ex," he says in a low and angry voice. "he's a loser, a real idiot, because he couldn't satisfy you. That's why you're here, with me, in my arms."

Your desire is mixed with guilt, realizing what Michael is hinting at. You think you've somehow betrayed your ex by falling into the hands of someone else. But it's not like that. And Michael will prove it to you.

"You're mine now. That bastard missed his chance." Michael says, pressing his lips to yours.

As soon as Michael's words reach you, he straightens up and pulls your body closer, spreading your legs. He rubs his hard cock against your wet entrance and you shudder again in anticipation, responding to his caresses.

Michael pushes inside you, trying to stifle the desire to fuck you hard and rough, to make you cry, to make you forget that you ever dated anyone before him. Jealousy devours him and a disgusting picture forms in his brain… of you hugging and kissing HIM. But not Michael.

He stops, he pulls almost out only to slam back inside again, this time much deeper. Your walls tighten around his cock, waves of pleasure overwhelm both of you. Michael exhales loudly, squeezes your hips and picks up speed, furiously driving into you.

He can't control himself.

You scream into your own fist, all thoughts of the wrongness of the situation disappear, Michael hits all the right places, causing you to moan sweetly. Each hard thrust echoes with vulgar sound of skin slapping against skin, which only excites you both more. Michael holds you tightly, fucking you as you move your hips in response to his thrusts. The orgasm grows again, a tight knot of pleasure twists in your lower abdomen.

"Michael, I'm… I'm gonna!…" you whimper.

Michael growls in response, already breaking into a wheeze. Sweat rolls off his forehead and he frowns as he continues to ruin your sweet pussy. He likes to hear you lose touch with the world around, knowing full well that he's reason of it. Pushing into you harder and faster, he lowers his hand between your legs, finding your clit with his thumb, ripping off another moan from you.

You cry, arching your back, his finger starts tracing your sensitive nub. The additional stimulation pushes you to the limit, your pussy walls clenches hard around his dick. Orgasm hits you like a wave, forcing you to swallow air.

But even when you're shaking from overstimulation, Michael doesn't stop. He continues to thrust, desperately driving deeper, already reaching your cervix, determined to show you what good sex is. Aggression, jealousy and resentment flare up inside him, regardless of the fact that you're completely his now, he cannot contain his emotions. He grabs you by the neck, squeezing just a little. Michael buries his nose in your hair, hiding his face in it and breathing heavily.

Michael fucks you so hard, so furiously, so fast that there's lack of air in your chest.

"His cock wasn't good as mine?" he pulls back slightly, leaving a kiss on your shoulder. It's like he purposely leaves bite marks and kisses to make sure that you really belong only to him.

You can't think, your eyes roll back in pleasure. You can only mumble plaintively to yourself.

"Yes! Your cock is so good, so good!. . ." you admit between ragged breaths. Michael smiles dreamily, feeling a sense of triumph, such recognition fills him with pride.

"That's right, baby," he bites your earlobe. "all you need is me."

The pleasure becomes all-consuming, hitting right into brain. Michael growls raggedly, feeling that hes also close. Another orgasm snaps in you, a discharge passes through your body. Mike also reaches his climax. His body is shaking. He pulls out of you at the last moment, cumming on the wall, moaning through clenched lips.

Both of you are just standing there, panting and trying to come to your senses. But you feel weak, still not understanding a single bit of what happened. You almost fall, but Michael holds you tight, both bodies sweaty and hot. Michael closes his eyes, breathing down your neck. Unlike you, he is aware and understands well what happened because he planned it all. Anger leaves him, but not jealousy. Michael is a very jealous person, especially when it comes to you.

The muscles begin to relax, a pleasant fatigue covers your body. Suddenly you feel his teeth digging into your neck, leaving a small painful bite. Michael runs his tongue over the small wound, at the same time his hands begin to squeeze your breasts, as if he is afraid to let you go.

"You're disgusting." you're mumbling.

"I take after my father." Michael answers you, not hiding the joy in his voice.

Though Michael will throw away the lip gloss anyway.

[ghostboneswrites2]

You Were Found

Part 2 to You Ran

Summary: Daryl finds you holding your ground against the Saviors.

18+ MDNI || Warnings: heavy profanity, TWD typical violence, minor mention of reader’s past abuse

        All things considered you were doing alright. In a survival sense, at least. You were fed most of the time, hadn’t been bit, and had a half ass decent amount of luck in finding water. One other fronts, though, things had been tough. You holed up in a beat down gas station off the highway. Another group — one that seemed to have numbers — frequently rode through and cause you problems. Their beef wasn’t with you, but it affected you nonetheless. 

        “Drop the bag, miss.” 

        “No.” 

        This man gave you the most shit. Any time he saw you he tried to rob you or sleep with you. It typically didn’t work out in his favor. 

        “Now, what are you doing with that?” He chuckled, nodding to your gun. “Looks a little heavy, darlin’. Why don’t ya hand it over? Let a strong man like me carry— Ahh!”

        A shit fired and he fell to the ground, clutching his leg. What he mistook for poor sim was simply your sights being set on his fibula. You smirked and shifted your weight onto one leg, propping your unarmed hand on your hip. 

        “Oops.” You said in mock innocence. “My finger slipped.” 

        “You fucking bitch! I’ll fucking kill you!” He cried out, writhing in pain on the cracked concrete. 

        “Looks like you’re gonna need a few weeks to recover first.” You shrugged, strolling to his side. You crouched down and looked him over, hissing. “Oh, man. Looks like that hurts.” You taunted. 

        Was it cruel? Yes. You justified it by recalling each time some patronizing, misogynistic, disrespectful bullshit escaped past his paper-thin lips. 

        “Hey.” You cooed as he sobbed. “Hey, hey, hey…” You hushed, lacing a hand on his shoulder. “Hold still.” 

        You went to examine his wound, but instead you slipped his gun from his holster and tucked it into your waistband. 

        You leaned in close and whispered, “Figured it might be too heavy now, you know, with that leg.” 

        You stood and walked away, tuning out the enraged cries of the man on the ground. 

        From the trees across the high way, it was quite an interesting exchange to witness. The eyes of a trained hunter, belonging to a man that had tracked you for miles, watched with a blend of scrutiny and intrigue. 

        As your silhouette faded into the shattered glass doors of your gas station hideaway, he stepped out onto the street, scanning the landscape. With no sign of imminent threat, he strode across the way, heavy boots stopping before the man who was sure to bleed out within the hour. Blue eyes traced the man’s features. He wasn’t the man who Daryl had crossed paths with while leading the horde away from Alexandria some weeks back. No, but he had a feeling he was from that same crew of morally depraved imbeciles. 

        “The fuck you lookin’ at, asshole?” The man spat from the ground. His voice trembled with agony. 

        “Just some other asshole that got his ass handed to him by a girl.” Daryl shrugged. The man scoffed. 

        “That bitch’s days are fuckin’ numbered.” He spewed threats as he desperately cling to the last threads of live, before they were cut short. 

        “Looks like you might be the one runnin’ outta time.” Daryl mumbled. 

        “Shut up and help me, man.” The man pleaded. 

        “Nah.” Daryl shook his head. He reached into his pocket and pulled his half empty pack of cigarettes out, bending down and propping one between the man’s lips. He flipped his zippo open and lit it before standing upright and tucking his cigarettes away again. The man puffed and sighed. 

        Daryl tossed a final glance at the dying individual before he strolled inside. Upon first notice, the place looked desolate; barren of life or even walking death. Daryl knew better, though. Somewhere in the poorly lit ruins of a convenience store, you were waiting, lurking, searching for your moment to pounce. In all truth, walking in there blind out him at quite the disadvantage. 

        He was banking on the possibility of your recognition of the man who once meddled in your life and ultimately put you in a situation that forced you to run in the first place. He hoped that’d be enough for you to spare him some time to place his cards on the table, and more than that, he hoped you’d accept his hand. He hoped his deck held the trump card he thought it did, and that you’d be willing to recognize what he really had to offer.  

        “Coming to avenge your buddy?” A familiar voice called from behind the counter. 

        “Nah. Came to retrieve somebody.” He replied casually. “Someone who’s been missin’ a long time.” 

        “Sounds like they might not wanna be found if they’ve been missing that long.” You sighed. The hell was he doing there after all this time?

        “‘M sure they don’t.” He shrugged. “‘M here for ‘em anyways. Had somethin’ I thought they might like to know.”

        “I’m not so sure there’s anything worth telling them after all that time.” You stood from behind the counter. He eyed you. 

        “Maybe they could just hear what I got to say.”

        “Maybe you should lay it all out then.” You crossed your arms. 

        “Alright.” He nodded, taking a step closer. “Well, for starters, I been lookin’ for ya almost every day. Me and Aaron.” 

        “And you found me. So what?”

        “That asshole ain’t ‘round anymore.” 

        “And that’s supposed to make me want to come back?” You scoffed. “I’m takin’ real good care of myself, thanks.” 

         “Yeah, ‘til them assholes find their dead friend outside and his killer hangin’ out in here.” He countered. 

        “Then I find somewhere else.” You rolled your eyes. 

        “Don’t have to, though. Got a whole community waitin’ for ya.”

        “The same one that watched me get beat for a year and turned the other cheek?” You raised an eyebrow. “I mean really, they should send better representatives ‘cause I’m not buyin’ what you’re sellin’.”

        “Ain’t the same community no more.” He pressed on. “Things ‘ve changed there.”

        “Doubt it.”

        “Come see for yourself.” 

        “No thanks.” 

        “Look, just let me take ya back. See for yourself. If ya don’t like it you can go. I did my part.”

        “Your part?” You laughed incredulously. “What — Are you wrestling with some insatiable guilt or something? Here, let me put you at ease. You didn’t do anything but set me free. There. Your burden is lifted; you’re free to go.” 

        “Ain’t about guilt. It’s about—“

        “What is it about?” A man asked, suddenly strolling inside. “Does it have anything to do with my dead friend out there?”

        Daryl and you looked between each other then back at the man. 

        “See, that’s the third one of my friends to go missing in six months. But, I only see two lives here. Does there…” The man searched around. “… Happen to be a third life bidding around here so where? You know, to pay your debt?”

        “I don’t owe you shit.” You glared. Daryl shook his head at you. You ignored him and continued.  “Those assholes tried to rob me.” 

        “I see.” He nodded. “I get it, you know. Defending your territory and whatnot, but.. Well, ya see the issue with that is this isn’t your territory. It’s ours. Has been for a long time.”

        “I didn’t see a sign.” You challenged. 

        “Oh.” He chuckled. “I’ll be sure to make one out of your—“

        His body fell to the ground with a thud, an arrow protruding from his skull. 

        “C’mon, (Y/N), we gotta get outta here now.” Daryl urged. You stayed out, feet planted in the soil of your stubbornness. “Quit bein’ so damn bill-headed and let’s go!” He demanded  he had witnessed what those men were capable of — the ones from that group. That would make four men they had lost to you — and now Daryl — and he had no intentions of sticking around to see their reaction.

        Tires screeched in the distance, headlights rolling into view. Without hesitation, you bolted toward the back exit. “Ah, shit.” You groaned. “Follow me.”

        With Daryl in toe, the two of you melted into the trees behind the small building, ducked down in the underbrush to watch as five more men tore apart the gas station, shouting between each other..

        “My bike’s not far. We should go.” He whispered.

        “You rode a bike here?” 

        “A motorcycle, idiot! Come on!” He hissed. You followed him between trees, running for what felt like two miles. The voices of people never stayed far behind. They were on your tail, just not close enough to catch you. For the first time since you used to cower from the fist of a man, you felt afraid. Adrenaline coursed through you as you slapped beaches and flies from your face. Sweat burned your eyes, blurring your vision as you tried to keep up with the prestigious woodsman ahead. 

        A break in the trees came into view, Daryl stopping to lift his bike from where he buried it in a tarp and leaves. He rolled it I got he street with haste and cranked the engine. You threw your leg over the back with no question, and he took off. You clung to his waist to steady yourself as wind smacked hair across your cheeks. Gunshots rang out behind you. Over your shoulder, you could see some of them men spilling out into the street, weapons aimed. 

        You pulled your pistol from your waist and held your arm out behind you, firing rounds at them as they faded from view. You could see one of them drop just as they disappeared behind the horizon. 

Taglist || Masterlist

tags: @kissmeunicornbaobei @thesadcatt0 @clairealeehelsing @duckybird101 @tmntfixationxreader @ryoujoking @blackvelveteen1339 @yondus-girl @ladylincoln @sunshinebug9 @saylum559 @yoowhatthefuck @duffmckagansbandana @celtic-crossbow @virginsexgod69 @dazzling-roaring-20s

[prismatic-bell]

So I want to start this post with the understanding that it is based ONLY on my personal experiences as a 35-year-old American and what I saw as a teenager. It should not be taken as a prognostication of doom—it’s a call to keep your eyes open.

So right now, one of the biggest (and very justified) criticisms of what’s happening in Gaza is that the head of Hamas isn’t even in Gaza. He is in Qatar. This is a known and established fact. If the goal is to take out Hamas, then they’re shooting in the wrong place.

Now I want to take you back to 2003.

George W. Bush has just announced that Iraq has 48 hours to turn over Osama bin Laden, or the United States will invade. They did not turn him over. We invaded.

If you’re too young to remember this, then the anti-Iraq/Afghanistan-war number you’ve most likely heard is “over a million dead civilians.” That number is true, but as someone who lived through it, I want to add some stuff you may not know or have heard of.

There was constant fear of the draft, and enlisted soldiers were often “back door drafted,” meaning when their contract was over it was reupped without their consent and they had no recourse. This led to a lot of families being torn apart and living in a constant state of uncertainty and fear. THIS, in turn, led to radicalization of soldiers who came home with no more support network and no assistance to readjust to civilian life. You want to know where all the Millennial MAGA came from? I’d be willing to bet a nickel almost all of them either were soldiers in Iraq/Afghanistan, or knew somebody who was. I knew someone who’d enlisted because his family had been enlisted men all the way back to the Civil War and he genuinely believed he was doing a good thing, and after what he saw on his first tour he re-enlisted twice, as fast as they’d take him, actively trying to get himself killed due to guilt and severe trauma. I guarantee he wasn’t the only one.

We had Blackwater. We had “enhanced interrogation.” (Translation: waterboarding and sleep deprivation, among other forms of torture.) There were photos and videos released of soldiers gone absolutely crazy with power doing stuff like peeing on prisoners and mocking them. One image that will haunt me forever is a copy of the Quran smeared with pork. There’s no need for that. It saves no lives, it produces nothing but pain, it occurred only to be cruel.

Iraq and Afghanistan caused over a million civilian deaths. It also caused the mass insanity of a country.

…..oh.

Did I mention Osama bin Laden was in Pakistan the whole time?

Yeah.

We invaded two countries, murdered over a million civilians, tortured thousands of people….and all of it was for nothing. Yeah, we got rid of Saddam Hussein and that’s a good thing, but it opened up a whole different can of worms in the region, and also led to the US being the first democracy in the world to invade another nation without being attacked first. You can imagine that looked just GREAT for our position on the world stage.

So, uh.

Israel’s bombing the shit out of Gaza. The heads of Hamas aren’t in Gaza. They’re in Qatar.

Do you see where I’m going with this?

So two things of importance here. One, keep an eye on Qatar, and if you hear a PEEP about any potential “military operations” there, remember Iraq and Afghanistan. And two….you’re not going to like this. But it has to be said.

Iraq and Afghanistan occurred under a Republican president and Trump is currently the Republican front runner. To remind you, Trump said multiple times he wanted to start a nuclear war, and his party is full of Christian dominionists who want Israel to take all of Palestine because they believe this will trigger the Second Coming. In other words what Biden is doing is extremely bad but he can be pressured to do what’s right (we’re seeing it happen right now, with his officials admitting he’s feeling the pressure for a ceasefire). Trump WANTS TO DESTROY THE ENTIRE PLANET ON PURPOSE, and has backing from his party. You have to vote against him. You have to. I do not condone what Biden is doing but I also enjoy living, and I’m pretty sure you also would prefer to be here rather than not.

Keep an eye on Qatar. Vote against Trump and keep the pressure on Biden. You really want to help and don’t mind playing dirty? Find some left-wing Israeli organizations you can donate to. The party responsible for what’s happening, Likud, is far-right (Netanyahu is buddies with Trump and that should tell you a lot), and there have been sustained protests against them for almost a year. The fastest way to Palestinian peace is to get the wannabe-dictator and his coalition out of power, topple Hamas (not the Palestinian people, explicitly HAMAS), and restart peace talks. We’ve been EXTREMELY CLOSE to peaceful solutions before, and by peaceful I do not mean “because one side is dead,” I mean “because the two sides were ready to work together.”

(No, I am not saying you shouldn’t donate to Palestinian charities—you can in fact do more than one thing at a time. Although I will tell you to do some double-checking on any Palestinian charities you donate to because apparently right now money is having a really hard time getting through. Make sure you’re working with a legitimate organization and not getting scammed by some asshole in Canada looking to capitalize on a tragedy.)

Peace can happen, and in our lifetimes. I would love to see a world where al-Aqsa and the Third Temple stand proudly side by side on the Mount as a reminder of what peace can do. But we have to keep an eye on all fronts. And that means learning from history.

[lex-the-flex]

In Front of You

Leon S. Kennedy x reader

Summary: Caught in the middle of the crossfire, you are ready to do anything for your team – especially for the man who cares for you the most.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warning(s): MEGA FLUFF, (make-out session) descriptions of injuries, talks of virus and needles, sensations of pain, cursing, action and violence, and character death.

A/N: I can’t believe I haven’t written anything for Leon since Death Island came out! I ADORED that movie and everyone in it!

Tip-toeing through the dark and damp hallways, you could practically hear the pounding rhythm of your heartbeat in your ears. Guiding your flashlight along the isolated cell blocks, everything seems still and quiet. Preparing to turn the corner, the panicked sounds of your team – your friends fill the empty halls, and you sprint like your life depended on it.

Catching up to Jill and Leon, you find them crouched in front of a set of dimly lit cells where both Claire and Chris Redfield are being held.

"Leon? Jill!" You call out, shining your light toward them.

Joining your team members at the cells, you grip the thick iron bars, and gaze at the sudden withered state of the siblings.

"Oh my God, you guys are so pale." Jill says, shifting her gaze from Chris to Claire.

Reaching through the bars, you work quickly to feel Chris' forehead, only to discover that he, like Claire is significantly hotter than a sunburn.

"And you're burning up so fast." You state, rushing to Claire's side in the separate cell.

"Hurry, get us out of here!" A third man shouts in the dark. begging for one of you to open the door.

Realizing that this man isn't infected, Leon clocks in on who he is within seconds.

"Son of a bitch, Antonio Taylor." He announces with a hint of annoyance.

"What are you talking about?" Claire questions in between staggered breaths, trying to remain calm.

"This scumbag's wanted for leaking national secrets to the enemies of the U.S. of A. Y/N and I were supposed to bring him in for questioning." Leon explains, glancing down at you as you tend to Claire.

Suddenly, the prison lights come on, and both Leon and Jill aim their guns in any direction they can. Removing your pistol from your holster, you sink back over to Chris to re-check his temperature.

"Welcome to Alcatraz. It's an honor to have you all here, together. Please, allow me to introduce myself. I'm Dylan Blake." The mad man known as Dylan begins explaining from an upper row of cells joined by none other than Maria Gómez.

Standing from your position on the floor, you aim for Maria, as the feeling of some unresolved revenge starts to creep up your spine.

"I bet you're how people are being infected without being bitten. The answer is simple: my prototype bio-drones." Dylan finishes, crossing his arms.

From the corner of your eye, the faintest buzzing noise whips past your face, and heads straight for Leon. Acting on your feet, you shove Leon out of the way, and a sharp, stinging pain erupts on the side of your neck, and you drop your pistol.

Landing on your side, the flashlights beam illuminates the shiny style of Maria's slick greyish and purple jumpsuit just as she jumps down from the upper cell block.

"Well, that was... unexpected. It's very brave of you, Miss L/N to put your life on the line for someone you love." Dylan mocks you, leaning forward on his cane.

Leaning over your shivering physique, a cruel smirk fills Maria's dark lips as you writhe on the cement floor. Aiming your pistol at the woman, Maria kicks you into the bars, causing you to scream. Silently wincing, both Chris and Claire feel your pain with you while they listen to your gasping for air.

“Y/N, don't. Save your strength!” Chris weakly calls out, forcing himself to sit up from his spot on the wall.

Groaning in pain, even your teeth ache as you lean against the bars, hoping for any kind of relief.

"I get it now. All this tech, even the virus, you got it all from Arias. That's why she's here, isn't it?" Leon asks, turning to Maria.

"Of course, Mr. Kennedy. I thought that after you murdered poor Maria’s father, that I’d settle the score. For both of us. It’s rather fitting, don’t you think? To see the woman you love be torn apart in front of your eyes, just as she once witnessed with you.” Dylan interprets, hinting at his own years of research.

“Fuck you, Blake! You don’t get to decide the course of our lives!” You shout in retaliation to no avail.

Leaving Jill with a warning, Dylan leaves the vast hallways of cell blocks, allowing Maria to finally get her hands dirty. Moving to protect you, Leon throws a flash bang, allowing Jill to make her quick escape to the armory.

*****

"Why'd you do that Y/N? That drone was meant for me, sweetheart." Leon asks, crouching down to your level.

Taking your face in his hands, a faint laugh leaves your chapped lips.

"I told you I'd owe you one. You took the Plaga for me, remember? So I did what I thought was right; finally paying off the debt." You explain through a series of whimpers.

"Oh, honey. That was eleven years ago. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you." Leon replies, gently stroking your cheek.

"He's right, Y/N. Then the Graham's wouldn't be safe. You and Leon could've died if it wasn't for your actions. You were fast, and both of you kept Ashley safe." Chris explains, making the long weight rise off of your chest.

"Yeah, we did our job. It may not be the best life, but our life. All of our lives." Leon announces, looking around to his friends and Taylor.

Taking your hand in his, you sit up against the bars, and sweat starts to pool on your forehead.

"I love you." Leon whispers before you, and a single tear drips from your e/c orb.

Shortly after his declaration, Rebecca arrives with a case of fresh vaccines. Injecting you with the medicine, Leon helps you to your feet, where the two of you prepare to face a bigger threat.

*****

Making your way to the control room, you and Leon observe the water starting to rise in the armory.

"Why's he letting all the water in?" Leon asks.

"I don't know. Maybe for the drones?" You reply, leaning against the monitors.

"You okay?" He asks, hovering his hand above your shoulder.

"Yeah, this stuff works wonders. You should try it." You joke with a smile.

"I'll take your word for it." Leon responds with a smirk.

Glancing behind his shoulder, your miniscule peaceful moment is interrupted by the sound of heels entering the room.

"I'm glad the virus didn't kill you both. I wanted to be the one to do it." Maria announces, standing firm on the stairs below.

"You don't always get what you want. Trust me." Leon projects, turning to face Maria.

Smirking, Maria kicks a computer screen from a pillar, and Leon dodges the fast moving object. Jumping for him, Maria punches Leon without any effort, and smashes him against the slanted single row of desks.

"This is for my father!!" Maria yells, lowering a jagged piece of a metal pipe towards Leon's face.

"He was Arias's guard dog. You were his bitch!" Leon retaliates, moving the pipe away from his face.

Feeling your strength return, you throw yourself into Maria's body, catching her with both of your arms. Colliding with her into a glass drawing board, your legs hit the small stair rail, forcing you to roll into your landing.

Struggling to your feet, Leon equips his Sentinel 9 and fires a few rounds at Maria, to which she dodges with a fierce kick to a desk chair. Launching herself towards Leon, Maria wraps her body around his bulletproof suit, and tries anything to disarm him.

Slamming Leon to the ground, Maria holds him in a headlock, desperate to take her revenge, but not before you finally shoot her in the left shoulder. Releasing Leon from her grip, she turns to face you with nothing but rage filling her eyes.

"You've been nothing but a thorn in my side! I've thought about nothing else but snapping that pretty neck of yours for over a year!" Maria shouts, pacing towards you.

"Yeah well, you're gonna have to try a lot harder than that!" You protest, shooting at Maria once more.

Working together, you and Leon quickly overpower Maria whilst as your stamina returns to your form. Taking a few more punches, Leon decides that enough is enough, and he kicks Maria out of sight. Crawling to you, Leon offers his reassuring touch to your back, until a worried expression fills your face.

Witnessing the sight of Maria being impaled by one of the glass board stands, she slowly walks from the metal stand, freeing herself. Standing to protect you, Leon pumps his arms one final time, but instead of making one last move, Maria falls to the ground; dead.

Standing in the room, a series of gasps and pants leave your lips, as the two of you try to cool down from the whole encounter. However, Leon rushes towards you and clasps his hands around your face. Frantically pressing his pink lips on yours, he moves at an ungodly pace, capturing your taste in his mouth.

A low growl escapes his chest as he backs up into an unbroken pillar and he moves his lips down to your neck, preparing to leave a mark, reminding everyone who you belonged to.

re taglist ~

@dreamliners

@iraot

@beautifuljellyfishqueen

@balach-cadalach

@fetaneecole

@odaschopsticks

@tiredsurvivoronmain

@thecodeisveronica

@andyacklesspn

@kanzukikarin

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@swimninhoney

@ashiemochi

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@scariusaquarius

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@cilantro422

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@the-resident-vampire

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@mnjxs

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@chirikalovesjill

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@dargoww

@leonwifey 

@arzublogworld

@ec1ips3

@dreamingchocochan

@mothxmoons

@josieinwonderland

@winksasleeplesseye

@jl-micasea-fics

@thatgoblin

@venchai

@decath3ct

@notrattus

@okami-117

@leonsbaby

@kennedyalike

[d0llcherry]

୨୧ LAMB WITH TEETH ♡.°୭̥

Scout and Medic meeting an cutegore!reader ⁎⁺˳✧༚ 

Triggers: gore, lots of descriptive death, its TF2 so its the basic.

Reader's info: Reader is heavily implied to be a girl, very small (like five feet tall) and does blood rituals.

type: headcanons, romantic/platonic

୨୧ THE SCOUT ♡

୨୧ When scout first met you, he was heavily convinced you were not going to last in the battlegrounds, by your height and the way you dressed all in pink and cutesy ribbons, Not to mention that you had a bunch of stuffed animals in your bags.

୨୧ He would mock you for the first few days, calling you "short ghost", since you were always so quiet and observant, you didnt even greet him properly when he talked to you for the first time.

୨୧ The mockery would be often until the first day you had to fight together, and oh boy, shocked wasnt even close of how he felt after seeing you all covered in blood and pieces of organs.

୨୧ Your delicate and fluffy pink dress being painted by the vibrant red color of blood along with small pieces of the members of the enemy team's organs.

୨୧ Your chainsaw as pink as your dress, turned on and sawing your enemies in half without mercy, the sound of the chainsaw almost drowning out the enemy team's spy screams of pain.

୨୧ You turned off your chainsaw, leaving it aside stuck in the spy's stomach, you dashed away from the gory scenario you caused, pulling out a knife with a pink decorative bow on it, you were laughing like a maniac, ready to stab some bitches.

୨୧ he already was terrified by the thought that he understimated you who turned out being an total psycopath, and the sight he had of you chasing the other team's scout like your life depended on it didnt help at all.

୨୧ "IM GONNA USE YOUR HEAD AS MY DECORATION WALL YOU FUCKING BRAINLESS DEER" you shouted in the most terrifying, shivering voice chasing the enemy scout that was screaming like a fucking siren for his life.

୨୧ after the battle was over, Scout got real quiet around you, he wouldnt apologize or anything, he just would silently avoid talking to you.

୨୧ you noticed that, of course, but you didnt care at all, because you had other things to attend to.

୨୧ After a while, Scout little by little started trying to interact with you, to, you know, take away that guilt that he was excluding you from behind his back (or the fear that you will suddenly appears in his room to take all of his teeth out while he sleeps as revenge).

୨୧ and it turns out you're a chill person when not in killing mode or when your in "dont talk to me" mode, Scout hitted himself internally for subestimating you AGAIN.

୨୧ You two turned to be great friends in the end, but he still gets the creeps from you because of your brutal habits.

୨୧ he stays away from your room AT ALL COSTS.

୨୧ Seriously, the last time he entered your room without knocking, he witnessed you performing an creepy blood ritual with an Spy head (you TOTALLY didnt steal it from medic).

୨୧ You just waved to him like what you were doing was totally normal.

୨୧ But when hes not scared of you, he jokes with you alot, especially in the battlegrounds, he uses you as a threat alot to the enemies, or as a special weapon.

୨୧ "SAY HELLO, TO MY LITTLE FRIEND" he screams as he pulls you out of nowhere and throws you in the enemy heavy's face like a fucking bug.

୨୧ One time, you decided to pull a little prank on him, you hid yourself in his room's shadows, and when he finally entered, you jumped on him with the most terrifying screech ever.

୨୧ Lets say that Scout turned into Ariana grande that day.

୨୧ "ooo yeah your real scary." Scout said trying to keep his "toughness" after the most girly, feminine high pitched, chipmunking scream ever.

୨୧ meh, cant say that i see him dating someone as cruel as you, so 100% platonic

⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ MEDIC ୨୧

୨୧ OH NO, NOT HIM.

୨୧ Ok, i dont think he would take a liking to you at first, he would just ignore you, only thought he would have about you is that the way you dress is cute, but he would assume you were weak.

୨୧ Another one who would understimate you, the only difference is that he wouldnt mock you, its Medic, hes more mature than Scout. (anyone is more mature than scout.)

୨୧ He wouldnt even bat an eye on you, at most only wave or greet you shortly because he knows you're eerily quiet and doesnt really have a big habit of talking, until you two were in battle.

୨୧ He was healing heavy that time, and thats when he saw you stabbing an enemy demoman in the cheek repeatedly. your maniacal laughs almost silencing the demoman's screams and begs.

୨୧ He was STUNNED, he swore that he started seeing everything going in slow motion, your silky hair moving with each brutal and fast movement you did, the scarlet liquid flying into your delicate face and soft hair.

୨୧ You finished the demoman with only one hard and brute swing with your arms, your little delicate hands clutching the knife handle so hard that they were a little bit red, and with only one hard moviment, you carved your knife into the demoman's head.

୨୧ “Look! now your an unicorn” you mocked the now dead demoman infront of you, before grabbing your pink knife decorated with your enemy's blood and brain, getting up and running away like a possessed bug.

୨୧ The ex doctor's heart was beating like crazy, he didn't know what caused him to fall for you in that moment, you killing the man so brutally, or if it was your delicate pink clothes being dyed with blood. (or maybe both)

୨୧ After the battle, you could feel medic burning holes into you, he was staring you like crazy, not that it bothered you, it was just unusual for people to stare at you like that, especially when no one really dares to look at you out of feat.

୨୧ Medic would try to strike some conversation with you regardless if you answer him or not, he would just be happy with you listening to him.

୨୧ The thing that Medic most likes in you is how you can balance your cute aesthetic with your creepy habits, its really impressive to him, for him its either one or another.

୨୧ When he saw you doing your blood rituals, he would be interested, since.. you know, he already got involved with the devil himself, sometimes if you need he'll gift you with a kidney or two.

୨୧ "Well, my friend, i must say that i have subestimated vou in the first time we've met! i should judge a book by its cover less." he would confess in a casual discussion between you two.

୨୧ I think he would ask you out by gifting you a head with a note attached written: "will you steal organs with me?" real cheesy but creepy.

୨୧ He used uber on you once, not really a good idea... for the enemy team.

୨୧ You were tearing bitches left and right, there was guts and blood everywhere, in your face, body, floors, walls, EVERYWHERE.

୨୧ You only stopped when you met your demise, and medic was admiring you the entire time.

୨୧ Medic likes your killer-machine behavior, he says it adds to your cuteness ♡

[kalims]

‎˃ ᵕ ˂ . . "do I like you? is that even a question?"

you like me, don't you?

heartslabyul : savanaclaw : octavinelle : scarabia : pomefiore : ignihyde : diasomnia :

"w-well, you say it like it's a bad thing." azul says. his sentence comes out rocky at first, he curses himself for letting a stutter squeeze through but he can't really blame himself when you took him by suprise.

he neither acknowledges your words or denies it. a smart move, he can just say 'i never said I did.' if you just so happened to react negatively and taking your words into opportunity it's as if he already has it in the bag.

sure he's nervous. somehow he can feel his palms grow clammy from the way his glasses seems way too slipper in between his finger and his old habit of unconsciously fixing himself up starts to happen.

but all he can hear is his heart hammering so loud that it actually sends shiver down his spine. the beat vibrates throughout his body, singing a hopeful song.

it's funny how much exactly he gambled through your words alone. this was a great opportunity he absolutely will not miss. certainly better than letting his feelings go unsaid, he never really did plan to confess but oh well.

you smile and he feels like he just found a jewel lost in a sea, a jackpot. "oh really?"

—

"fufu,,, would you like that?"

jade is cruel though it was already evident the earlier times you've come across him with your friends, wearing the same polite smile everyday. you remember the time your mind quite literally focused all it's attention on his teeth when he grinned, they always say dangerous things are the most prettiest.

somehow your mind completely ignored the fact that there's a twisted pleasure in his grin when he witnesses someone in visible agony or pain. of course, you cant literally sense that kind of thing. to your standards atleast but you wouldn't be suprised if there's some kind of spell for it.

but you just knew, and if there's anything jade likes more than pain decorated cruelly on others it's probably toying with other people and you're 50% sure he is with you, right now. first he'll get your hopes up and crush it with a few words, all pampering and sweet then cold the next second.

despite of hanging out with him with the free times you sometimes posses. you still don't know how to get out without being hurt. "hmm... maybe, but do you like me?"

just answer with neither yes or no, that's the best thing you could come up with right now. something made up last minute but you suppose it works.

you're—

"of course." he smiles, it seems a little less menacing than his usual one. "what's there to not like?"

—

if jade was that kind of guy you'd be intimidated at from his quietness alone, it's sort of cold, certainly having an off feeling to it. the way he talks, stands or even looks at you. then floyd would be the one you'd be intimidated at from the way he's able to spout concerning things so casual and brightly, and then transitioning to an actual dark tone so quickly.

'crush you to death' you as well misunderstood it as literally until he just hugged you.

—very tightly at that. you suppose he just has an interesting way of wording things.

"of course I do!" floyd replies happily. squeezing you tighter by sheer joy each passing second, you don't know if you should cry from the restriction of proper oxygen or cheer at his scary cuteness.

you choose the choice to live. "hey can yo—"

what the hell was that ace?

"what's this lovey dovey stuff? 'I like you too you know'." ace cuts you off and his interference alone had floyds grip already slipping, then the words register and he's hugging you tighter again.

are you shitting me. you think, obviously the male was joking cause he even forced his voice to sound deeper, akin to floyd's which makes you think that the boy is trying to match up their tone. it was meant to be lighthearted and mocking but you think that it completely flies over floyd's head.

ace realizes his mistake too late when the tall, big, scary, eel man's face takes a turn for the scariest. "hey.. you wanna get beat up?"

"hey man I was joking—"

you learn that floyd won't really care if someone's joking or not because he will chase them, going from intimidatingly scary to more pleased to witness the change in their expression.

ace tells you to not go near him with floyd in tow anymore the next day.

[literaila]

that look 

tasm!peter x reader 

summary: 

“are we even now?” 

“not even close.” 

warnings: fluff, bit of angst, relationship problems (duh), kissing 

*

"oh no," peter says, from right beside you. "stop that." 

you've been sitting on the couch for the better part of an hour, waiting for takeout and trying to ignore peter's relentless attempts to tickle you and steal your book out of your hand. 

he's completely irritating and insistently stubborn, but every time you look at him with a glare he just smiles back, feigning complete innocence. 

and, if you're being completely honest, you're glad he's right there, distracting you every couple minutes or so. 

you look up at him, frowning. then back to the book in your hands, looking for something that isn't there. then back to peter, who is furrowing his brows at you. 

"what?" you ask. "stop what?" 

"that." 

peter gestures his head towards you, his eyes comically wide, a twitch of his lips making you glare back at him. 

"peter." 

"i'm serious," he says, shaking his head. "you've gotta stop." 

"sure," you say, looking back to your book. 

there's a beat where peter sits there waiting for your attention, and you grin down at your book, not really reading so much as watching his reaction through your peripherals. 

and then peter slides closer to you, his head ducking down in front of the pages. "you're still doing it," he says. 

"peter," you whine, trying to push his head out of the way. "i'm trying to read." 

"well i'm trying to sit here and watch. you're doing it on purpose," he whines back. 

"doing what?" 

"making that face," he says, nodding toward you. 

you blink, staring at him. 

peter groans and falls against your chest, mumbling something into the free skin there. he's effectively climbed onto your lap, making you drop the book and any sensibility you might've had at some point. 

"what face?" 

"that one," peter says, he leans up a little, lips quirked. "that look you make when you want me to kiss you." 

you scowl. 

and then peter laughs, and leans up a bit more. 

*

"peter," you say, head tilted up, eyes annoyed--and amused, if you look at the edges. "seriously? right here?" 

"it's not my fault," he responds, sugary sweet and smiling at you because he is, above all else, a bastard. a hazard upon the earth. 

and a completely fine boyfriend who agreed to go shopping with you--only if you would repay him in kind. 

this must be his idea of a downpayment. 

"yes, it is. you do this all the time," you complain, continuing with your shopping, even with a giant standing in your way, trying to distract you from the task at hand. "we are in a public place, i'm not just going to--" 

"all i'm saying is that if you were more careful with your eyes--" 

"seriously? cause you can go wait outside. they might even have those kiddie rides with the horses out front." 

peter puts a hand to his chest, mock offended. "are you kicking me out?" 

your face is completely blank--mostly because it's the only way you've managed to keep the smile off of it. "this is your version of mistletoe, isn't it?" 

"this is your version of mistletoe." 

you blink at him, lips pursed. 

peter laughs, wrapping his arms around your waist and ruining the distance you had been keeping between the two of you. "that look," he whispers, slightly pained. 

"i don't even know what you're talking about." 

he scoffs. "yeah, right." 

"i don't!" you insist. "you just say that whenever you're feeling lonely--" 

peter digs a finger into your side. "whose fault is that?" 

you frown, considering it. 

the world continues to move around the two of you. your basket now on the floor, because peter has taken possession of your hands and your eyes and your heart. 

and he's got that smile on his face. 

the teasing, incredibly cruel one. insanely irresistible. 

"i'm kidding," he whispers to you after your brows have been furrowed for a moment too long. "you're doing fine." 

you snort. 

"...would be better if you'd stop making mean faces at me in the store." 

"i don't even--" 

he interrupts you with a kiss. 

a kiss that lasts far too long and is far too dizzying for the middle of a grocery store. 

and when he pulls back he smiles. 

and you blink, trying to regain consciousness. and then you clear your throat. "are we even now?" 

peter chuckles, letting you go and picking up the basket at your feet. he goes to stare very intensely at some condiments. 

and then he looks at you with another smile. 

"not even close," he says.  

*

peter won't look at you. not in the eyes, and not towards you. 

not that you blame him, really, but it's probably the first time he's done this. and probably the first time that you keep trying to reach him--and his brown eyes and open-book face--and can't. 

because he won't let you. 

"do you want to talk about it?" you ask him, quiet and soft. 

you're trying not to sound afraid. trying to keep your cool and not let this racing heart of yours show on your face. 

"what?" peter asks, washing a cup out in the sink and putting it in the dishwasher. 

he's mumbling and not looking at you. 

"why you're upset," you say, smooth. "do you want to talk about it?" 

there's a frown on his face. he's biting his lip. "i'm not upset," he claims. 

but you watch him walk to the living room and sit down on the couch. he doesn't touch you, doesn't smile and say he's glad you’re home, or kiss you on the forehead. 

he doesn't even glance at you. 

and so you follow him, footsteps light like you're worried that any sudden movement will draw an attack. 

"is it about dinner?" you ask him, not really wanting to continue with this--this building fight that you can see practically in front of your eyes--but also not wanting him to sit in this. whatever it is. "i'm sorry, peter." 

finally, his eyes meet yours. he's scowling. "why are you sorry?" 

"it was unexpected. i didn't know that it was going to go that long. i should've--" you swallow. he's staring at you, and somehow, even though it was what you wanted, it's more intimidating than when he wasn't looking at you at all. "i should've texted you. or called. i don't know." 

"you told me that you couldn't make it," peter says. his voice is void of anything. 

"yeah, but i should've checked in again, i guess. made sure that you knew what was happening." 

"i knew." 

peter looks away. he messes with a magazine you left out on the coffee table. 

"you're upset," you say, still calm, though anxious. you tap your fingers on your leg, a bit restless. "i can see that you're upset." 

"not at you," peter whispers, just barely loud enough for you to hear. 

you bite your lip, watching him. 

there's a beat of silence. a mountain of tension between the two of you. 

"we had a date planned tonight," you say, mostly just aloud. "and i had to cancel because of a work thing. i'm sorry, peter, really. i'll communicate better next time. or check my schedule more thoroughly." 

you're saying this not for his benefit but for yours. 

just to fill the silence. get him to see that you mean it. 

"i can't imagine how disappointed i would feel if i was in your place," you add, whispering. 

and you blow out a breath, clearing your throat. 

peter doesn't say anything. he sticks to staring at the floor like it's going to tell him a secret. 

"i'll leave you alone. i'm going to go get changed, so--" 

"you don't have to be sorry." 

you blink. "what?" 

"i'm not mad at you." 

"...okay." 

"it was just a rough day," peter says, to the wall. "and i was looking forward to spending time with you." 

he doesn't add that any hope he had was ruined. 

he doesn't add that you canceled so last minute that he was probably already dressed and ready to go. 

he doesn't need to. 

you take a couple of steps toward him. "me too." 

peter looks up, face blank. "yeah?" 

you nod. "i was thinking about quitting," you tell him, "as soon as they told me about the dinner." 

there's a quirk of his lip. "you love your job." 

"i love you more." 

and at that, an actual smile appears on his face, soft and smooth, clearing out any leftover wrinkles. "yeah?" 

you walk closer to him, moving between his legs, so you can look at him properly. 

and you don't say much else. 

but peter groans, throwing his head back as you mess with his hair. 

"that look," he says, out into the world, like a curse. "how can i stay mad when you have that look on your face?" 

he's not asking you. 

but you kiss him anyway. 

*

his lips are soft. they are rough and hard and pushing and pulling until you can't move away. 

peter has you in so deep, so tight that your skin is practically velcroed to his. there is glue deep inside you, keeping whatever sanity you have left in pieces. 

"peter," you whisper to him, between breaths and pleas and a million other things you can even begin to describe. 

he's smiling against your lips, pushing you back against your bed, and crawling on top of you. 

he's smothering you. 

and you have no ounce of energy, no want to complain. 

"yeah?" he asks pulling back so you can stare at his eyes. so you can appreciate the mischievous spark in his expression. and his smile. 

and the things that he's promised you. 

you grin at him, shaking your head. 

"that look," you say, and then kiss him again. 

peter laughs against you. 

*

my masterlist here.

tags:@moonlarking-blog @v1ci0us @preciousbabypeter @alexxavicry @directioner5life @inthegetawaycarwithtaylah @localrockstargf  @thestudiouswanderer @take-my-hand-time-boy @thoughtsofagodlovingsunflower @nyomjoon  @moo-b1tch @raindropstearsandtea @rqmanoff @hollandweather @wetcoldnoodle @urlocalavenderhazestan @valvlry @imthatcoolmom @spideysimpossiblegirl​   @  invisibletrolleyson-jeremy  @sharkswaters  

[oswildin]

Worth The Pain {Loki x GN!Reader}

Summary: It’s been one year since the snap… And you are struggling to cope with the reality you had been left with. And Loki won’t stand by and watch grief consume you. (Avengers AU)

A/N: This is an AU, Loki survived Thanos. I rewatched Endgame and had this idea.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, grief/loss

One year.

It had been one whole year since the snap. One whole year since the Avengers lost. Since everyone lost.

It was easier to find solace at the bottom of a bottle than to think about it. To allow yourself to feel. You’d hardly eaten, hardly slept, hardly done anything except swig at the bottle of whiskey grasped in your hand. You’d failed. And there was nothing you could do now. Whoever remained was scattered, the remaining Avengers dispersed. All just trying to carry on - in their own ways. Carrying on was very different from moving on.

You’d stayed at the compound, along with Natasha. Natasha threw herself into work, trying her hardest to find solutions, keeping in contact with the others in the universe. But you couldn’t bring yourself to do such a thing. No, it was easier to allow despair to swallow you whole. Cowardly? Maybe. But even mighty Avengers had their weaknesses.

Loki was an unexpected ally during the fight against Thanos, but a strangely welcome one. Besides, you needed all the help you could get. And after all was said and done, he’d lingered. You were surprised, thinking he would’ve been the first to run. The first to go into the shadows to grieve, to even revert to his dark ways. But no, he stayed. He was mellower, grown almost. The event had changed him - like it did everyone.

There he stood, arms folded, donning Midgardian attire of a sleek, fitted black dress shirt and slacks, leaning against the doorway to the common area of the compound as he watched you. Being only you two and Natasha that stuck around the compound, cohabiting for the last year, it was hard for him to not care… to not feel a pang in his chest at the sight of the dullness in your eyes, the pain, the grief…

And to see you only causing yourself more suffering…

No, it wouldn’t do. Not today.

“Do you intend to spend your day drowning your sorrows?” His voice asked across the room, softer than usual in cadence, but with his typical sardonic edge. Your gaze didn’t even drift towards him as you leaned back in your seat, lifting your glass to your lips to take a sip - as if to make a point.

“Do you intend to spend your day judging me for it?” You asked lowly, a hint of defensiveness to your tone. “Because if you are, I suggest doing it elsewhere.” Loki pursed his lips, pushing himself from the doorway as he took a few measured steps into the room, unfolding his arms.

“Who said anything about judging?” He asked, furrowing his brows. “Besides, I’m hardly one to comment on… coping mechanisms.” He added wryly, acknowledging his own past machinations. “I did hold New York hostage after all.” You let out a huff of wry amusement at that, your eyes finally drifting towards him. Your eyes were glazed, slightly glassy from the liquor and emotions you felt.

“Hm.” You hummed in agreement. “That you did.” You nodded faintly, raising your glass in a mock toast. “I would say that was the equivalent to shoplifting compared to what Thanos has done.” You commented as Loki’s lips quirked ever so faintly, raising a brow as he approached the table where you were sat.

“Shoplifting?” He asked in mock offence. “Please, it was at least on the same level as a robbery.” He raised his chin slightly, a hint of mischief in his blue eyes appearing. You rolled your eyes languidly, taking another sip of your drink - a sip that turned into downing the glasses contents. Loki watched, his smirk fading into a thin line as his hands came to rest on the back of one of the empty chairs. Loki liked you. Truly, he did. Maybe a bit more than like, despite the fact you were a mortal. A cruel jest from the Norns it seemed.

“Either way-“ You continued after placing your glass down, reaching for the bottle once more. “You get my point.” You sighed, hand finding the bottle, but as you were about to pick it up, it suddenly disappeared in a shimmer of green, your fingers curling around nothing. You let out a heavy breath, hand falling to the table. “Loki-“

“I think you’ve had quite enough.” He cut you off, voice low. Firm, yet gentle.

“You’re one to talk.” You muttered with irritation, sliding to sit back in your seat, hand moving with you on the tables glossy surface. “You’re not exactly known for your restraint.”

“Perhaps not.” He conceded with a faint nod, pulling out the chair beside you, the legs dragging on the floor. “But I know when enough is enough for a friend.” He told you, taking a seat, eyes never leaving your face. You pursed your lips, slowly blinking.

“Listen, I don’t need a lecture.” You grumbled. “Alright? It’s bad enough hearing them from Rogers and his little ‘it gets better’ meetings.” You huffed, shifting in your seat.

“A lecture from me?” Loki raised a brow, tilting his head faintly. “Hel would freeze over before I gave a lecture, I assure you.” His lips twitched upwards briefly. “No, I am merely here as an ear. I can be quite a passable listener.”

“You love to hear yourself talk.” You rebutted, finally turning your face to meet his gaze again. “I don’t think a lecture is so far out of your realm of possibilities.” You added wryly.

“Please don’t put me in the same category as Rogers.” He feigned a pleading look. “I may have… grown in recent times, but righteous like the Captain I am not.”

“Then give me back my whiskey.” You raised a brow in a subtle challenge. Loki sighed.

“I can’t do that.” He stated simply, shaking his head.

“Why?” You narrow your eyes slightly. Loki paused, taking a quiet, deep breath before his brows raised.

“You know why.” He gave you a pointed look, his voice low and soothing. Once again, firm but gentle. Something that was becoming more and more characteristic of Loki, especially when it came to you. You held his gaze, before choosing to concede, leaning back in your seat.

“When did you get so… wise? Boring?” You huffed, folding your arms over your chest, almost like a mopey child.

“I’ll try not to take too much offence…” Loki replied in his usual sardonic way, raising a brow. “First comparing me to Rogers, now calling me boring…” He tsk’d with a shake of his head. “I’m wounded, truly.” His hand moved to press against his chest in a flair of drama, causing your lips to tug upwards slowly, even as you moved you gaze from his, trying to hide the fact he had been successful at bringing you out of your wallowing - if for a moment. “Was that a smile?”

“I’m not a child, Loki-“ You cleared your throat.

“No?” He tilted his head.

“No.” You met his gaze again, feigning a look of annoyance, trying your hardest to remain rather stoic.

“Oh right.” He nodded. “My mistake then.” He smirked. “It’s just, for a moment-“ He lifted his hand, gesturing towards your sulky demeanour. “Well, I was worried perhaps I accidentally cast some spell that regressed you a few years-“

“Asshole.” You couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up inside, coming out as your head fell back against the chair. Loki’s own lips turned into a genuine smile at the sound, the sight of levity on your features - if only for a moment.

“I’ve been called worse.” Loki mused, raising his chin faintly. “So, I shall wear ‘asshole’ with pride.” Your laugh began to ebb, tears glistening in your waterline. But you weren’t sure if it was from the laughter or the sorrow you felt, or both. Your hands moved to your face, covering it as you took a few deep breaths, sniffling as your hands fell back into your lap. Loki’s smile faded into a look of understanding. He knew that feeling. Not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

“I must warn you, I’m not very good at dealing with others tears.” He warned playfully, pursing his lips. “I much prefer to be the one making others uncomfortable with jarring displays of emotion.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” You suddenly spoke, voice a mere murmur. “I don’t know… what to do. I don’t know… where I’m going, why I’m still going-“ You let out a shaky breath. “The world still spins, time still flows and yet… I feel I’m stuck. Life carries on but I can’t seem to move.” Your voice wavered faintly, as Loki shifted in his chair, turning to angle himself more to face you better. His brows furrowed in empathy, also understanding that feeling very well.

“Time is a cruel thief.” Loki said quietly, nodding. “And whilst we can’t reclaim the time we’ve lost… We can make sure that no more time is stolen from us.” He continued, keeping his voice calming, reassuring. “Take it from a God who has lived long enough to feel the effects of time.” He held your gaze, pausing. He let out a quiet breath, his hand moving to fiddle with the sleeve of his shirt, twisting the button lightly on the cuff. His gaze flickered to the action, brows creasing faintly.

“No one truly knows what they’re doing.” He continued, tone earnest. “Not even Gods.” He looked up again, meeting your eyes. “When one’s purpose is snatched away… Their life turned on its head… It can leave you feeling…” He paused once again, a hint of vulnerability flickering through his azure eyes. “Hollow.” He landed on, nodding. “Angry. Hurt. Lost…” He watched your reaction to his words closely. “Seeking ways to try and regain control… Whether it be drinking away your sorrows or trying to invade a realm that isn’t yours.”

You listened quietly, features softening, turning more downturned with each word that left Loki’s lips. If someone had told you two years ago you would be sat, having a heart to heart with Loki, the God of Mischief, the man who attacked New York… You would’ve laughed. And yet, here you were. And it was… exactly what you needed.

“I miss my brother.” Loki finally admitted outwardly, lips pressed into a thin line. “And as much as I would very much like to indulge in my grief, I know that isn’t what he would want. He wouldn’t want me to revert to my more… destructive tendencies.” He leaned forwards in his seat, resting an elbow on the table as he looked at you. “Nor would he like it if I let you, a friend, do the same.”

You bit your lower lip lightly, feeling the slight dampness on your cheeks from the few tears that had escaped. Your face felt warm from the whiskey, your emotions raw and vulnerable. A wave of guilt hit you as Loki spoke of Thor. You’d been so caught up with your own troubles, that you hadn’t even stopped to think about anyone else. And still, Loki was trying to help, trying to offer comfort.

“I take back the ‘asshole’ comment.” You murmured. “It seems as though perhaps I’m the asshole.” You muttered wryly, raising a brow as your gaze lowered to your hands in your lap.

“You’re not an ‘asshole’.” Loki corrected, shaking his head, a hint of a smirk on his lips at the Midgardian insult. “You’re just… figuring it out.” He added softly. “Like everyone else.”

Truly, when did Loki get so… Patient?

“And, for the record-“ He raised his brows, leaning in a fraction, a hint of mischief in his eyes. “You look much better without the weight of such burdens. Self-pity is very unbecoming on you.” He teased gently, his hand moving to gently nudge your arm, lingering for a moment longer than necessary. You gave a small rueful smile at that.

“I don’t think self-pity is becoming on anyone.” You said lowly. Loki feigned a look of thought.

“Hm-“ He paused. “I don’t know. I think I pulled it off quite well.” You scoffed at that.

“Of course you do.” You mused sarcastically, shaking your head lightly.

A comfortable silence fell between you, the air a little lighter, your frame relaxing ever so slightly as some of the sorrow eased within. Loki licked his lower lip briefly, looking down at his hands, fiddling with his fingers absentmindedly. You were both each other’s constants in this post-snap world… And for that… he was grateful. Reminded than even in darkness, there were beacons of light to be found. After a moments hesitation, his hand moved tentatively, reaching over to find your own in your lap, as his fingers twined with yours, his skin cool compared to your warmer skin. Comforting. His thumb brushed against your knuckles in a featherlight caress.

“If there’s one thing that all this madness has taught me…” Loki broke the silence, voice soft and quiet. “It’s that… Time is precious.” He glanced at your joined hands. “And life is unpredictable… In ways I never imagined.” His brows furrowed briefly. “That you should… keep those you… care for…” His words hung in the air, a soft admission. “Close.” He finished, voice barely above a whisper as he waited for your gaze to meet his, eyes flickering over your profile. After a moment, you looked up, your eyes meeting his.

Looking at him, you could see the mix of emotions in his gaze. The vulnerability, fear, warmth… affection. It was a contradiction. But so was Loki. The God of Mischief, known for his chaotic nature, now a grounding force for another, an anchor amidst the madness.

“Letting people close… Leads to pain.” You whispered, taking a breath. Loki nodded faintly.

“It can.” He admitted. “But… I often find that it’s worth the pain.” He told you, a glimmer of hope in his tone. “At least that’s what many have said.” He added wryly, smirking as he raised a brow. You looked at him thoughtfully, knowing deep down, he was right. Life came with ups and downs, love and pain… It was what made you… alive. Very much alive. Your hand subtly tightened its grip on his, as if to reassure yourself he was real, he was there.

“Then… I suppose we should find out.” You spoke quietly. “If it’s worth the pain.”

[hyunsvngs]

Skz types of doms? Like Chan for example I def get major pleasure dom vibes and I cannot stop thinking about the types of doms they’d all be

chan: very gentle daddy dom vibes. so caring. will give into your every request, just wants to make you happy.

minho: very condescending, lots of teasing, will laugh at your reactions and mock you incessantly.

changbin: such a gentleman, cares about your experience much more than his own. entirely focused on pleasuring you & making you feel good.

hyunjin: soooo sweet and loving. just wants to take care of you & make you feel good cause you're his favourite person in the world. lots and lots of praise.

jisung: uses you for his own pleasure, he's just so unbelievably horny that he'll use your body to get off. does he care about how you're feeling? kinda not really? but after he cums he checks in on you & gets you off too.

felix: very gentle, always reluctant to hurt or overwhelm you at all (but could probably be persuaded if you promise him you'll be okay). lots of kisses and kind words.

seungmin: meanest dom ever. just so cruel. wants to push you as far as you can go. lots of pain, lots of pleasure. degradation along with gentle encouragement that you can handle this.

jeongin: absolutely ruthless. you're nothing more than a toy to him. makes it his own personal mission to make you cum as many times as physically possible.

[bishopayer]

38 LETTERS FOR MY LOVE ᥫ᭡  LUKE CASTELLAN

𝓦arnings ; character’s death , mention of blood , angst , luke being an asshole. .

Luke Castellan was a complex figure, his demeanor veering between ruthlessness, cruelty, and a deep-seated sense of unworthiness. He harbored a belief that he didn't deserve anything or anyone, having hurt countless people and driven them away until they ceased trying to help him—a cycle that left him wondering why they abandoned him. Luke actively avoided love, convinced that he wasn't deserving of it, nor capable of reciprocating it. So why did all those convictions dissolve in your presence? It baffled him how someone as kind and selfless as you could ever love him. You were the antithesis of Luke—gentle, compassionate, and always putting others before yourself.

The paradox of your affection for him haunted Luke. It felt as if the gods were playing a cruel joke on him, mocking his sense of worthlessness and inadequacy. He wrestled with conflicting emotions, feeling both overwhelmed and undeserving of your love. Luke made a solemn vow to himself to keep his distance, to shield himself from the vulnerability of your affection. He couldn't bear to utter a single word about you, let alone your name, fearing that acknowledging your presence in his life would only deepen his feelings of unworthiness. He thought it would be simple to push you away with harsh words, but he found himself incapable of inflicting pain upon you, unable to resist the warmth of your gaze and the kindness in your eyes. He couldn't bring himself to hurt you, no matter how much he believed he didn't deserve you.

He counted almost every single day that you made him feel so good, like he was a normal person, worthy of love and affection. You didn't treat him like the others, and he was endlessly thankful for that. Despite warnings from others about Luke Castellan's reputation as a heartbreaker, you refused to believe them. Your Luke wouldn't do that to you, right? Your Luke was the sweetest boy you'd ever met, treating you with the kindness and respect you deserved.

During your nighttime strolls, often after Luke sneaked into your cabin to take you out, your shoelaces would invariably come undone. Too tired to bother with them, you'd simply let them dangle. Luke, ever the gentleman, would kneel down and tie them for you, causing your cheeks to flush with a rosy hue as you glanced down at him. "You need to tie your shoelaces, I can't always do 'em for you, princess," he'd whisper, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he finished and stood up. You'd scoff lightly, a smile playing at your lips. "I can do them; I'm just tired since someone decided to wake me up in the middle of the night," you'd retort, chuckling softly as you continued your walk, the warmth of Luke's presence beside you. Despite your banter, your hands would brush against each other with every step, a silent but tangible connection between you. Luke would roll his eyes, letting your comment slide as you both ventured around the camp, striving to keep your outing quiet and clandestine.

But that plan failed miserably for both of you. Your giggles echoed through the entire camp as Luke decided to demonstrate his strength by lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder. "Luke Castellan── if you don't put me down, I swear on the Gods that this is the last time you ever pick me up!" you whispered-yelled at him, but deep down, you couldn't deny that being so close to each other felt undeniably right. And that was probably the last time he did pick you up.

Luke still vividly remembered the moment he opened up to you, the first person aside from Annabeth who truly listened to every word he said. It felt liberating, finally being honest with someone after years of mental turmoil. He recalled the vulnerability he felt when he confided in you about his scar, expecting rejection or harsh words. Yet, you surprised him by kissing his scar so tenderly, your hand tracing its outline as if committing it to memory. He remembered your reassuring words, whispered in his ear with such sincerity─how you loved him, even if he couldn't say it back, and how his scar didn't define him, how he was the most beautiful person you had ever seen.

Luke longed for those days when you would wake up in his bed in the morning, wearing his oversized shirt, a sight that softened even his toughest exterior. His siblings would tease him for being so gentle around you, but he did mind those comments. In those moments, he felt a warmth and comfort he had never known before, and he missed it dearly.

He didn't want to admit it, especially after he had promised himself that he would stay as far away from you as possible. He didn't need you, he told himself repeatedly.

Days turned into weeks, which then led to months where you and Luke wouldn't see each other. He avoided you at all costs, not even sparing a glance in your direction. It haunted him to imagine your tear-filled eyes, your bottom lip quivering as you fought back the urge to cry. He had always been the one to tell you not to waste tears on trivial matters, yet now he found himself unable to face you. You thought it was foolish, how he avoided you without explanation, and you blamed yourself for not confronting him sooner. Unable to find the right words, you resorted to writing letters and sending them to Luke. It felt childish, but your love for Luke Castellan compelled you to try anything to salvage what was left of your relationship.

The Hermes boy read all 38 of your letters, sometimes rereading them every hour, but he couldn't bring himself to respond in kind. He had promised not to speak to you, and he intended to keep that promise. But why was it so difficult when it came to you? Letters weren't technically considered talking, right? So after many months of receiving your letters, each one a testament to your unwavering affection, he finally broke his silence. He wrote you a four-page letter detailing everything that had been happening in his life. You were confused, to say the least. So he had been avoiding you simply because he was afraid of being loved? Was he scared of the idea of loving you?

Of course he wasn't afraid of the idea of him loving you, that's what he thought. The idea of him loving you was something that he never entertained before; he did like you, though. But did that even count? No, he realized. It wasn't fair from your point of view. You loved him, adored him, and all he had to say was that he only liked you? That night, you promised yourself that you would stay away from him.

You stopped sending letters to him, trying your best to forget about him and his stupid smile, or those eyes that would look at you so tenderly, or the scar on his cheek that you had memorized in your head. Every time you went out into the woods or spent time with your friends, things would inevitably remind you of him. You blamed both yourself and him for the sweet words he would say to you, or the mornings when he was wide awake and would gently wake you up with kisses on your cheek, lips, and forehead── God, you had to stop this immediately.

Luke thought about you too, constantly. He remembered when you used to say that strawberries were your favorite fruit and how you could eat them all the time. So he picked some from the strawberry field and started to eat them, even though he didn't particularly like them. He knew your favorite color was pink, and he also knew that you smelled like cotton candy. So he bought a small piece of pink silky fabric that he kept with him at all times, claiming it brought him luck. The son of Hermes even sprayed his pillow with the same fragrance that you wore, hoping to dream of you. The dreams he had of you were sweet, just like you.

He missed you, and you missed him. But neither of you were sure what to do. You were scared to say something to him, fearing the heartbreak that might follow. Deep down, you knew he wasn't just any boy, but you still didn't want to admit that you needed him. It wasn't like he needed you anyway. You missed the feeling you used to have every time he would kiss the palm of your hand, slowly making his way up to your neck and then your lips. How could you not miss him? You've always had a tendency to get attached to people too easily, while Luke was the opposite. He struggled to identify his feelings, what he truly wanted. That's why he was so stubborn when his friends accused him of turning soft. He didn't want to be soft; he wanted to be strong and fearless. That's what he wanted to feel, so he acted accordingly.

You noticed the change in him. Your Luke wasn't the same sweet boy who used to shower you with cute nicknames. He wasn't the same boy you once believed would eventually reciprocate your love. And he never did, despite how much he regretted not being able to say those words back, at least for you.

The day before the war began, Luke's thoughts were consumed by you. He wondered how you would react to seeing him on the other side. You'd probably hate him by then, he reasoned. So that night, he sneaked up to your cabin and took you out, just like he used to. You were confused and wary, especially of Luke. You thought he was playing a game with you, using you for his own amusement. "Castellan, I don't understand this. I mean, first you ignore me for months, and now you come and just take me out in the middle of the night?" you scoffed, unable to suppress the edge in your tone. You didn't want to be cruel, but after everything Luke had put you through, if being mean to Luke Castellan was what it took, you were prepared to do it again and again.

"Look, I── I'm sorry, okay? I'm a shitty person who doesn't know how to be loved. I'm sorry that you have to see this, Luke, and not the Luke who has been thinking of you," the curly-haired boy said, mentally cursing himself for the choices he had made. He could have been in better circumstances if he hadn't been such an idiot. He could have been your boyfriend now, for God's sake! You sighed as you looked at the boy with the same bambi eyes that would make him want to kiss you even more. "Yeah, and I'm sorry that Luke Castellan didn't appreciate me."

"I did appreciate you── You were the only one who would actually listen to me, and I'm grateful for that," Luke said, guilt written all over him, knowing that his words wouldn't make you believe him. That night didn't go as planned as he thought; you were both arguing until he had to ruin it, again. He didn't mean to say that he didn't love you; he actually did! Well, he thought so. But he was going to make it up to you, he promised, and Luke always keeps his promises. He's going to confess his love for you, just like in those romantic movies that he'd always say were too cheesy.

But it seemed like fate had other plans for both of you.

He didn't get to confess, he didn't get to say "I love you" like you said to him every single day, and he couldn't even bring himself to utter those three words. He was ready, he really was. So why did the Gods have to take you away from him? Why couldn't they wait a bit longer until he confessed?

The day of the battle dawned cold and gray, the sky heavy with the weight of impending doom. As you stood on the front lines, surrounded by your fellow demigods, you couldn't shake the feeling of dread that settled in the pit of your stomach. But you refused to let fear paralyze you. You would fight, you would stand your ground, no matter the cost. Already having a bad feeling about this, you knew something was wrong when you didn’t see Luke the whole day.

Chaos erupted to quickly. The battle was fierce, a whirlwind of steel and blood and magic. Demigods clashed against monsters, their screams echoing across the battlefield as the earth shook beneath their feet. You fought with all your strength, your heart pounding in your chest. But in the midst of the chaos, tragedy struck. A sudden explosion rocked the battlefield, sending shockwaves rippling through the air. And then, in an instant, everything went silent. The sounds of battle faded away, replaced by an eerie stillness that hung heavy in the air.

And there you were laying on the ground, crying in pain as a pool of blood stained the ground beneath you, seeping into the earth like a dark, twisted memory. Luke rushed to your side, his heart almost pounding out of him as he knew that you were going to be dead by any second now. “Shit── it’s okay, it’s gonna be fine, we’re going to be fine. Just── just don’t close your eyes, okay?” He whispered, tears blurring his own vision as your cries stopped. He knew you were gone, he knew the moment that he had with you were now only memories that he wouldn’t wish to remember.

Luke Castellan still read your letters after everything, his heart arched as he looked at your handwriting. The letters were now stained with tears as the Hermes son decided to put all your exactly 38 letters into a box, not wanting to lose them, not wanting to lose anything from you.

© bishopayer 2024. do not translate, or duplicate any of my works on here or any other websites.

[lusciniiax]

since you dont have any ideas, how about I give you one, cheeky kitsune heizou x bunny reader, just thinking about the times kitsune heizou will tease bunny reader, bunny reader whos so afraid him and doesnt like his teasings one bit <333

☾ . . poor bunny.

dom!heizou x sub!reader. 1.6k words. warnings include everything included in the ask, gn afab reader, a little mean/teasing heizou, ig dubcon if you squint, pet names (bunny), dacryphilia, fingering, creampie - also was written at 1 in the morning, there may be typos or grammar mistakes

notes: hello mocha ~ thank you so much for the idea , i've had vague thoughts but nothing good enough to really build on recently , so it's much appreciated <3 i just love heizou

written by a minor [15]. dni if uncomfortable.

you were out on the streets of inazuma, hastily doing your shopping. right now, your only goal was to get home without encountering that terrible heizou and his cruel antics.

for the past few months, you and him had had this ongoing . . game of sorts. it wasn't very funny to you, but no matter what you did, he seemed to adore your every reaction. you couldn't deny that you did care for him to some extent, and almost missed him when he wasn't around on some days. but for the most part he caused more trouble than help.

the shopkeeper handed you a package containing some bottles of dango milk. you dipped your head in gratitude with a small 'thank you' and rushed off back to your home.

when your house came into sight, you let out a soft sigh of relief, having seen no signs of heizou.

it was as you were unlocking and opening the door that you suddenly felt a tug on your cotton-ball tail and hot breath on your ear as an all too familiar voice whispered 'boo!'

the appearance was entirely unexpected - the kitsune's attacks usually came while you were in town, so you'd let your guard down. with a shriek, you jumped and dropped the package, a loud crack coming from it as it hit the ground.

trembling, you whipped around to face heizou, who was now laughing meanly. as usual, you felt hot tears start to pool in your eyes, trying your best to stand your ground and hold them back.

"i-i paid for those . ." you sniffled, meekly fidgeting with your hands.

"awhh. poor bunny." he mocked, smirking down at you. "perhaps i could accompany you into town to get some more?"

"no way!" you retorted, scared out of your wits but determined not to let him push you around.

he only gave a light-hearted shrug, and you felt somewhat dejected that he hadn't acknowledged your efforts. "suit yourself. i'll make myself at home, then, while i'm here.

before you could protest, heizou had pushed past you, already inside your house and inspecting anything he could get his hands on. "stop that!! those aren't yours!"

"hm? i'm only taking a look. it's only natural i'm curious what my little bunny keeps around." he complained as you snatched a decorative figure out of his hands.

"stop calling me that, i have a name - and for archon's sake, get out!" you grumbled, giving him a quick whack on the head with the back of your hand.

without missing a beat, he'd shapeshifted into you. "for archon's sake, get out!" he repeated, grinning as your face grew a bright red out of frustration.

"you're not funny!" you retorted, feeling more powerless against his non-stop teasing by the second. as expected, he echoed you again. "whatever. i'm going to my room - at least let me have that to myself." you said with a defeating sigh and a crushed look on your face.

he shapeshifted back into his usual form as you brushed past him to the bedroom and continued practically ransacking your house.

you buried your head in your pillow with a groan, praying he'd get bored soon and go - you hadn't heard him quietly slipping into your room.

"hey, bunny." you heard as he grabbed your rabbit ears and pulled your head up by them. a sudden, sharp pain shot through the sensitive parts and you let out a choked squeal or sob.

the tears finally started to fall. you got more stressed every minute he was nearby, and this was the final straw. you cried and cried, exhausted from the constant worrying. heizou had managed to slip into every aspect of your life, always somewhere in your thoughts.

after a few seconds, he released you, standing by your bed and silently watching you with an intent gaze.

when your crying had finally reduced to a quiet whimpering, you sat up shakily, looking down at the floor with puffy eyes.

"please g- go away . ." you whispered, pleading to the archons he'd oblige. they must've not heard, for heizou ignored you, instead taking your chin between his thumb and fingers and raising your head to look him in the eye. you could almost feel him scrutinizing your expression.

"hm . . poor thing." he cooed lowly. you swallowed, throat feeling dry. you hated the man, truly - he was childish, rude and just a bully - but in this moment he was almost . . attractive?

"you're so pretty when you cry, y'know?" you blinked, more tears falling as you did. your vision was somewhat blurry, and all your senses felt hazy - was the room getting warmer? "i want to see you cry more." he breathed, moving his hand away from your chin to cup your cheek in it. such a gentle gesture for such cruel words. instinctively, you found yourself leaning into his hand.

he moved forward, and you allowed him to, ending up with your back on the sheets and him above you, both of you breathing heavily. heizou pushed up your shirt and grabbed your waist with a grin, running his hands up and down and gradually going up to your tits, taking the shirt off all the way and keeping his eyes on your face the whole time.

you squeezed your eyes shut as he groped them, twisting the nipple of one between his fingers and licking at the other. he took it in his mouth, skillfully swirling his tongue around it and sucking gently. you startled with a small yip when he bit it lightly and he snickered.

he moved up again, pressing kisses to your collarbone and the side of your neck. you shivered under his touch, pressing your legs together as some strange feeling surged through your stomach. having him so close was both terrifying and arousing.

you tentatively opened your eyes as he stopped, now unbuckling his pants and taking off his shirt. he sat back and gestured for you to come over. after a brief hesitation, you complied, crawling over. he pulled you into his lap when you were close enough and earned a squeal from you. you could certainly feel his dick poking you through your skirt, but he didn't appear embarrassed or ashamed in the slightest.

the kitsune rested his head on your shoulder, arms around you and holding you tightly to his bare chest. "take your skirt off, will you, bunny?" he asked tauntingly, a hand snaking up to brush fingers over the base of one of your ears.

you nodded, everything tense as you clumsily maneuvered it off. he brought his remaining hand down to your pussy, slipping a finger inside. your breathing quickened, already feeling overstimulated from one hand stroking your ear and the other fingering you.

he added another finger inside you, stretching you out with the two. you let out a small contented sigh and relaxed a little, beginning to feel more comfortable with it all. he noticed and gave your cheek a quick kiss, a triumphant smirk on his lips. "you have no idea how long i've wanted to do these things to you." he said, and you gave him a soft, distracted hum in response.

heizou pulled his slick-coated fingers out of you and brought them to his mouth, giving one a quick lick before moving them to yours. "open." he commanded, and you reluctantly complied, knowing he'd get his way no matter what you did.

he placed his fingers on your tongue, lightly pressing down, and you licked the fluids off of them, face flushing red in embarrassment.

"an indirect kiss." he purred, removing his fingers from your mouth with a quiet pop.

". . gross." you muttered, wiping your mouth. heizou only laughed, squeezing you tighter for a moment and pulling you up further onto his lap.

"may i put it in now?" he asked. you glanced down to his dick, the tip swollen and pink with precum glistening on it.

"mhm. please be gentle, heizou . ." you murmured, absentmindedly running one of your fingers along it, collecting the fluid that stuck to your fingers. he let out a breathy grunt as you did and carefully picked your hips up.

you inhaled sharply as he slowly eased you down onto his cock, trying to take deep breathes. "f-fuck. you're so tight - feels so good, my dear bunny . ." he groaned once he'd completely filled your hole.

heizou gave you a minute before starting to rut into you, starting out slow but quickly speeding up. it wasn't long until he had you bouncing on his lap, crying out his name.

he grabbed your ears roughly this time, carelessly yanking you towards him and giving you a long kiss on the mouth this time. tears were streaming down your cheeks rapidly now, and after pulling away he peppered smaller pecks onto them.

you hated how his mistreatment of your sensitive ears got you so riled up, hated how you absolutely ate up his little grunts - and yet it was perfect. the moment was entirely perfect.

"oh- oh, heizou, i-i'm cumming!" you cried, and he moved his hands down to your hips, slamming them up and back onto his cock. "go on, cum for me, bunny." he cooed as you rode out your orgasm, creaming around him while he thrusted.

he hardly slowed after you came, incoherent babbling and pleas spilling out of your mouth from the extreme sensitivity.

"sh-shit, i'm cumming-" he warned, his speed faltering as his sticky cum filled your womb, a white ring appearing where his dick was inside your now ravaged pussy.

he laid back against the bed frame, huffing out a sigh. you didn't hesitate to fall onto his chest, ears twitching and panting. heizou reached down a hand to play with your hair, soothingly running his fingers along your scalp.

"so, bunny," he asked after a minute of the comfortable silence.

"are you ready for round two?"

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

I keep coming back to one question: does Izzy know how cruel he's been to Ed?

In s1e3-s1e4, we're shown that Izzy has made a habit out of controlling Ed's perception of situations, demeaning and insulting him to the crew and monitoring his social interactions to isolate him from everyone except Izzy himself, and insulting Ed to his face in order to make him think he needs Izzy around. Ed is clearly desperate for human connection, but Izzy shuts down any topic that isn't an Izzy-Approved Blackbeard Topic, not letting him talk to him about what he's excited about. Izzy is frequently shown lying to Ed in order to get what he wants out of a situation. His behavior is manipulative and controlling from the start, and it only gets worse once Stede enters Ed's life and Izzy tries to pressure Ed into killing him, going as far as to attempt to kill Stede in front of Ed after Ed's told him explicitly to back off. If we're being charitable, we can say Izzy doesn't know how much pain he's causing Ed because he's too focused on trying to "protect" his lifestyle and control Ed's behaviors, so he never really thinks much about Ed's feelings - but, even then, he says in s1e6 he knows Ed "adores" Stede, so he has to know how much killing him will hurt Ed!

And in s1e10, the way he talks to Ed genuinely still gives me goosebumps. He tells Ed he's better off dead than behaving the way he is, painting his nails and writing songs and telling everyone to call him Ed. Izzy goads Ed into reacting with violence by refusing to back down and continuing to mock and berate him, and reacts with glee when Ed chokes him, laughing at Ed's horror once he gets him to respond with violence.

As Izzy himself tells us on his deathbed, the reason for this behavior is clear: he felt like he needed Blackbeard. But how much did he understand what he was doing?

Given how Izzy tends to shut Ed down when he's talking about topics Izzy doesn't think are important, I like to hope Izzy doesn't actually know Ed very well at all. I like this interpretation becasue it makes it a lot easier for his s2 arc to sit well with me.

Because if Izzy really understands how much violence is a trigger for Ed, then his actions in s1e10 move from simply cruel to downright despicable. He would be actively using Ed's trauma response to get what he wants. Izzy's behavior is manipulative, but I like to think he doesn't understand how deeply he's really hurting Ed, because that makes it easier to stomach.

I think it's clear that, even on his deathbed, Izzy doesn't seem to really get it. He admits he's been awful to Ed, saying he "fed your darkness." But he's spent the whole season understating his role in triggering Ed's self-destructive spiral and misunderstanding what caused some of Ed's reactions (like saying Ed shot him because Izzy said he loved him, which is just not what happened).

Izzy says he understands Ed, and I think we're meant to understand he doesn't know jackshit about Ed. Even if Izzy really meant to do everything he did out of "love" for Ed, it wasn't about wanting Ed to be happy, it was about controlling him.

Izzy is, I think, at his most sympathetic when he has absolutely zero emotional awareness. I find his s2 arc much easier to be satisfied with when I assume Izzy still has no idea how much he hurt Ed, because although that still sucks and it makes Izzy seem like a controlling, abusive parent who wanted to ""protect"" Ed and deeply hurt him in the process, it at least doesn't mean Izzy knowingly and willingly took advantage of Ed's trauma when he was in a deeply vulnerable place. It's a lot easier to sympathize with Izzy when you assume he knows as little about Ed as it's possible for him to.