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wileys-russo · 6 months

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hihi idk if youre taking requests but i had an idea for leah kinda inspired by sockgate (💀)

so basically r plays for arsenal and theyre having kit photoshoots but the kit person accidentally forgot r’s (obviously the photoshoot isnt in colney) so she has to wear leah’s kit because r’s number is 5 and leah’s is 6 so it would be easier to edit and change the number like on the shorts (just say they didnt take any photos of her back because it would be too hard to change the name or something) ANYWAY leah is eating it up seeing r in her kit (especially if it’s like kind of big on her)

and then idk how you want to end it but maybe after the edited pictures are posted, leah cant help herself and also posts the original ones where you can see it’s her kit or something

love your writing <3

the sockgate trauma...never again the new number 6 II l.williamson

"leah catherine if you make us late again you're sleeping on the sofa tonight!" you yelled out impatiently, checking the time and rolling your eyes. "two minutes babe!" your girlfriend called back as you groaned in disbelief.

"they're dressing us and doing hair and makeup there leah, what is taking you so long?" you dropped your bag to the ground and stomped off to the bedroom. "no don't come in i'm-" you pushed open the door and your eyes widened at the sight in front of you.

"tell me that you are not doing a soduku right now." you spoke deathly calm, eyes locked with hers and narrowing. "would that make you feel better?" leah questioned with a charming smile, sat on the corner of the bed.

but the tinkling of her game gave it away as your eye twitched slightly and leah laughed nervously. "leah, i will be waiting in the car. if you do not join me in exactly two minutes, that thing you've been wanting to do?" you stated as leah nodded along.

"you can do it to yourself and this-" you gestured to your body. "-will be off limits, for a week." you warned seriously as leah scoffed and went to speak.

"a whole week williamson, shift it!" you cut her off sternly, turning on heel and marching out of the bedroom hearing your girlfriend trip over with a curse in her haste to hurry.

"ah fuck." you heard a thump and before you could even open the car door leah was skidding to your side, grabbing it for you. "after you darling." she grinned as you hummed and slid inside, tossing your bag in the back as she hurried around to her side.

"babe why aren't you dressed?" leah frowned as she returned to the change rooms, having finished with her own media promotion and asked to let you know they were ready for you now.

"they didn't bring my kit. there was a typo on the schedule and they thought less was coming so they've got 23 and not 5." you sighed in explanation as your girlfriend took a seat beside you.

"they just told me to wear your kit, 6 is easier to photoshop to 5 since its one number and not two like 23 is." you shrugged as leahs eyebrows shot upward. "leah." you sighed tiredly at the familiar look which settled on her face as she sat down beside you.

"be an adult and go change, now please." you ducked away from her arm which attempted to slip over your shoulders, standing up and crossing your arms across your chest. "have i ever told you just how sexy you look when you're pissed with me?" leah sighed with a dopey smile.

"yes. you make a point to remind me every time you grovel after you've pissed me off!" you threw a towel at her head and sat back down at your cubby. "no, go change baby." your foot shot up to press against her as she stood and attempted to get closer.

"reminds me of a different position baby, one i quite like." leah grinned wolfishly as she pulled your leg to sit on top of her shoulder and kissed your ankle with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

"you already made me late once this morning and you're doing it again. go and change leah please!" you groaned pulling your leg back and sending her a stern look.

"i know you think this is going to work but this whole annoyed look-" leah wiggled her fingers at you "-is just making it all the more harder to leave you." leah smirked as you rolled your eyes and exhaled deeply.

"alright alright! i'm going. a girl knows where she isn't wanted!" leah spoke dramatically clutching at her chest, ducking down and stealing a kiss. "unless you'd like me to just change here and we can-" leah started to suggest but a dead panned glare had her grabbing her bag and hurrying away toward the showers.

"here you go then sunshine." a bundle of clothes hit you square in the face as you'd started to daydream only a few moments later, leah changed back into the clothes she'd arrived in.

"you are so-" you stopped yourself, leah sending you a smirk and sitting down on the bench. "eyes and hands inside the ride at all times williamson, i'm on a schedule." you warned as you started to strip off and change, feeling your girlfriends gaze locked onto you.

"leah!" you huffed as you pulled her shirt down over your head and her hand smacked against your ass. "what? it slipped babe." leah shrugged with an innocent smile as you rolled your eyes and pulled on her shorts having to roll the waistband a little so they didn't hang so low, already having your boots and socks on.

"wait! you're missing something." leah shot to her feet as you fixed your hair and turned to leave, pausing with a raised eyebrow. your lips couldn't help but curl into a small smile as leahs own pressed sweetly against them.

"sap." you teased, pecking her lips a few more times before heading out of the change rooms hearing her follow after you. "behave leah." you warned seriously as she held up her hands with a wink and you pushed your way into the media room.

"well well well if it isn't our newest number six!" beth teased as she finished up and immediately noticed that you weren't in your own number. "call me vice captain." you grinned, hugging her as you swapped positions and she spoke briefly with your girlfriend before leaving the room.

"so we're mostly shooting graphics for the screens and the lineups today, some celebrations, some serious shots. we'll do everything forward facing since there was some...issues, sorry about that again." jessica the marketing and media admin smiled apologetically.

"you're just lucky i was around to save the day jess." leah chimed in as jess shot her a playful glare and stepped back, calling out a few poses as the photographer snapped away and you moved between the different backdrops.

much as you tried your hardest to stay focused there was no avoiding the shit eating grin plastered on your girlfriends face as she sat back with arms crossed, eyes laser focused on your every move.

leah wasn't shy about how much she adored you, that was given by the constant teasings of the pining looks she threw your way during trainings or the not to subtle kisses she stole what felt like every few minutes.

leah was even less shy about how much she adored the sight of you in her clothes. early on in the relationship she did find it somewhat frustrating how you'd sneak off with her hoodies or shirts or pants hidden away in your overnight bag.

but seeing you wander around colney with what leah knew was her nike hoodie covering your top half had something stirring in her stomach she couldn't ignore.

your girlfriend by nature could be possessive, though most times it never came from jealousy knowing you were just as much as infatuated with her as she was with you, but rather that solidifying assurance that you were hers.

so as she sat there seeing you take picture after picture wearing her name, number and jersey leah was grinning ear to ear and there wasn't much which could be said to wipe it off.

"all good?" you questioned once it seemed things were wrapped up, sending both him and jess a thumbs up and stepping away, boots clacking against the hard cement floor and shaking your head at the look on leahs face.

"don't say it." you warned, snatching your jacket out of her hands and making a beeline out of the room as she hurried to follow you. "leah!" you laughed as she caught up and grabbed your hand, pushing you against a wall.

"you're like a horny teenager." you chuckled against her lips which immediately ravaged yours, her hands gripping your hips as you cupped her face and deepened the kiss.

"baby girl you know what it does to me to see you in my clothes, let alone wearing my last name on your back." leah pulled away and shook her head, making a mind blown gesture with her hands causing you to laugh again and shove her.

"we're at work miss williamson, be professional." you booped her nose and darted away as leahs kiss met thin air and she watched you dissapear into the change rooms.

"oh but miss williamson all my thoughts right now are strictly unprofessional." leah sang out happily with a cheeky grin as you shook your head. "no ring, no wife." you patted her cheek and held up your empty hand causing leah to now shake her head.

"oh no no no, no need to change my girl." leah swiftly grabbed your bag, stuffing your clothes back in and slinging it over her shoulder, holding out her hand for you to take with a sly smile.

"its time for me to make our new number six feel very very very welcome."

#woso community #woso #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #engwnt

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to-the-stars8 · 2 months

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The Waynes' Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3 Originally, I was going to make this a half-chapter because I wrote this on my phone while at work, but I decided I'm a bitch who doesn't do half-chapters. Anyway, here's this one. Sorry for any mistakes, it was slightly rushed because I wanted to get something out there since I've been away from the keyboard for a good moment!

Nanny in The Attic

Alfred had asked you to get some spring decorations from the attic, and you were happy to oblige. You loved decorating, it brought a sense of wonderment to your life that was otherwise filled with the endless tasks of being a caretaker. So, you took to the attic like a moth to a flame. There were boxes upon boxes, old coats strewn about, a creepy-looking rocking horse in one corner, and copious amounts of dust.

“The box is labeled but I couldn’t tell you where the damned thing is,” Alfred said as he flipped on the light. “If you like, you could wait until I return. It might be easier.”

You waved him off as you ventured further into the room. “No, no. You’re a busy man, Alfred. Plus, the kids are at school, and this will give me something to do today.”

“Very well, then, have at it,” The old man said, heading towards the attic stairs. “Master Bruce is working from home today, and there’s an intercom on the wall over there if you want to call for help should you need it. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind lending a hand.”

You looked over to where the butler was pointing. “Just when I thought this place couldn’t get fancier. Thanks, Alfred. I’ll see you later.”

With a wave, he left. You began to pull apart the attic in search of the alleged spring decor, and it seemed almost hopeless. There were just too many boxes. There was Christmas (which you couldn’t wait to see), Halloween, and just about every holiday decor that had ever existed. Some boxes were full of pictures and jewelry. You took a peek into some, just out of pure curiosity, and were amazed by just how old some of these things were.

Then, you stumbled onto one box that had photo albums from within the past thirty years and decided to look through them. It took you very little time to realize that these were albums of Mr. Wayne’s family.

You smiled, looking at a smaller version of your boss, as you realized just how much Damian looked like him. You also noted just how much Bruce looked like his father. Eerily so. That had to do something to his psyche. His mother was a beauty, too. You found her headshot sitting right under one of the photo albums. She had curly reddish brown hair and deep blue eyes that reminded you of Bruce’s. Mr. And Mrs. Wayne were a handsome couple with the world at their feet, but that was cut short the day they died. You were almost too young to remember but could recall some family member bursting into the kitchen to announce that the Wayne family had been murdered. It wasn’t entirely true, only Mr. And Mrs. Wayne had been killed— leaving behind a traumatized little boy.

“Poor Mr. Wayne,” you said to yourself before putting the albums back. “Now, where in the hell is that box?”

You looked around the room, eyes scanning when you saw it. The box was high up on a shelf labeled ‘spring’ in black Sharpie. After moving some more boxes out of the way, you began to make a path so it would be easier to move. It was going to be so easy and perfect, you thought. Once all the boxes were out of the way, you could grab the step ladder and get what you needed.

Setting the ladder up, you climbed it, but the box was still just out of reach. You supposed that the shelf could support some of your weight, so you lifted your leg to step onto it. What you hadn’t seen was an old broken vase jutting out from one of the boxes. You felt the pain of it cutting into your leg before you knew what it was. With a cry, you fell back hard onto the floor.

“Ow, ow,” you said, pushing yourself up. Looking down at your leg, blood was streaming from the wound. Alfred would not be happy about this, you thought. Putting your hand over the cut so not all the blood would drip onto the floor, you awkwardly made your way over to the intercom.

You had no clue how to use it and began pressing buttons.

“Mr. Wayne,” you would say when it sounded like you got through to a room. “Mr. Wayne, are you there?”

Finally, after about ten minutes, you got a voice coming through the other end, “Everything alright?”

“Aha! Mr. Wayne, I cut my leg pretty bad and think I need a first aid kit. Could I trouble you to bring me one?”

“I’ll be right there,” he said. Before you could say anything back, the line went dead.

Grumbling to yourself, you made your way to the attic stairs to sit and wait for your rescue. Blood was pooling between your fingers, and you could feel it slowly get closer to your socks.

“I’m here, I’m here.” You looked up to see Mr. Wayne rushed up the attic steps with an aid kit in hand before stopping right in front of you. “Alright, let me see.”

You moved your hand to the side, but couldn’t bring yourself to see just how bad it was. He put his hand on your knee to keep your leg steady, and you couldn’t help but notice just how big and warm his hand was.

“Luckily, you don’t need stitches, just a clean-up and some bandages.”

“What should I do?” You asked, hands already going for the kit.

Bruce didn’t let you get close enough to grab it before he picked it up. He didn’t say anything as picked out the hydrogen peroxide, some ointment, and bandages. Pouring a little of the hydrogen peroxide onto a cotton ball, he slowly started to wipe at your leg. You yelped from the sudden sting and pushed his hand away.

“Stop it, that hurts,” you said meekly. “Ow! Bruce, please.”

He stopped to look at you, eyes meeting yours and thumb starting to trace small circles on your knee, before speaking, “Sorry, just hold still. It won’t take much longer.”

He began to dab the cotton ball back on the wound again, and this time you were prepared for the sting. As he worked on your wound, you stared at him. Mr. Wayne wasn’t just a handsome man, but he was pretty, too. He had the type of looks that befitted a character in a fantasy novel rather than a traumatized rich boy. His eyes, though, were such an intense blue that they were hard not to look at.

You thought out loud, “You have your mother’s eyes.”

Bruce whipped his head up to look at you, eyes narrowing. “What?”

You tried to not let the embarrassment show through. It was a fact that just so happened to slip from your mouth. “You have your mother’s eyes. I saw a picture of her earlier.”

Bruce broke his gaze and continued working on your leg, now putting the bandage on. “Oh.”

“Do you remember your parents?” You asked.

“Yes,” He said after a minute. “Everyone said I looked like my father, but he saw more of my mother.”

You giggled and took his hand when he offered to help you up. “She must have loved that.”

“Oh, she did.” For the first time, you saw Bruce smile genuinely. A smile for himself instead of the kids or you. “That’s why she wanted a girl after me, but they never got around to it.”

“Can’t picture you as an older brother,” you said as you wandered over to the shelf.

Bruce didn’t say anything to that and changed the subject. He offered to get the box down for you, saying that you didn’t need to be reaching up or doing anything else on your leg. You weren’t going to complain and let him get the box.

“Good thing you called me,” He said with a grunt. “It’s heavy. Now, where do you want it?”

“The living room would be a good place to start,” you said before you checked the time. You still had a couple of hours before the kids got home, but thought that perhaps you could wait. “Maybe I should wait for the kids. They may want to help.”

“Alfred would rather burn the manor down.”

You could imagine it. Mr. Wayne brought the kids up in a way that they were very creative, and you could only imagine how that would transfer over in the decor. Alfred was too neat of a person for that.

Mr. Wayne set the box down on the living room coffee table, making a cloud of dust come up from the box, before turning to you. You smiled kindly and thanked him. He nodded before heading towards the door, he stopped halfway before turning to you.

“Make sure you clean your wound, you wouldn’t want it to get infected.”

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne.”

He nodded before finally leaving you. You looked back down at the decoration in your hands and huffed. It’d be a lot of work, but if you wouldn’t get it done.

And, you did as such. By the time Alfred got home with the kids later that afternoon, he was shocked by just how well you did. The whole house was overflowing with spring delight to the point that he began to ask how you managed such a task. You only told him you had magic hands before you went to tend to the children. They were happy to see you, all of them clamoring about, and noted the bandage on your leg.

“I got in a fight with a bear today,” you said.

Dick rolled his eyes. “You’re such a liar.”

Bruce suddenly popped into the kitchen where all of you were. “It’s true. I was there. I helped fight off the bear.”

“Are there even bears in New Jersey?” Jason asked, curiously.

Duke, on the other hand, looked horrified, “Why are there bears in the backyard, Dad?”

You were quick to tell him that the two of you were only kidding, that the cut really just came from an accident. Duke seemed relieved, while the other kids were a bit disappointed. When they all ran off to do their own things, Bruce quickly stopped you from joining them.

“Next time you decide to decorate, let me know in advance.”

“You don’t like it?”

“On the contrary, actually. What I don’t like is anyone in my household getting hurt.”

You nodded, trying to reason with yourself as to why you had butterflies in your stomach.

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honest-moth-of-silver-grove · 6 months

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Could I ask for some yandere alucard post season 3 with a s/o that isn't human or only part human? Like being half fae, nymph or siren. I just think the dynamics of that relationship would be quite different then say if the object of his obsession was human given his lack of faith in humanity in season 3s aftermath

A/N: I LOVE this question! It was so interesting to think about all the different ways the MC could be half-human and have that connection with Alucard. I did end up going with a mermaid/siren sort of creature as the original asker did send in an additional ask clarifying how they could picture this abused mermaid girl feeling kinship with Alucard because of his current distrust of humans, and I liked that element. I also chose a siren / mer create as they have abilities to manipulate/hypnotize their prey, an ability Alucard probably has as well with him being half-vampire. I ended up writing a very long outline in bullet points but felt that it didn't quite flow for HC, so I instead broke it up into smaller scenes below. I hope that’s ok. Sorry, it took so long. I was sick with some weird virus for weeks (lowkey feel like it’s mono or something), and could only handle work and family crap, like I barely had any motivation to live. And then when I started writing this, it sort of took on a life of its own lol. (What can I say? I love me some Alucard.)

Anon also suggested I check out this manga- it’s called Becoming the Villain's Family and it’s about a siren who goes back in time and makes a marriage pact with a devil to prevent their untimely fates. I’m not a huge manga reader, but my sister is, so I’m going to recommend it to her and maybe we can read it together.

Yandere! Alucard (Post-S3) w/ A Half-Siren S/O

The fair creature did not see quite how it happened, for it had all transpired too fast. A deep guttural growl echoed from past the tree line, well beyond the corners of her vision as the very ground beneath the wagon’s feet began to shake violently. As swiftly and silently as a flash of lightning, the wagon she resided in was sliced in half, the metal cage that kept her prisoner acting as her only guard against an elongated talon from some sort of monster. The cage was tossed sideways, skittering along the dirt ground as the poor mer creature inside flipped over violently, her dehydrated human form and lack of clothing sending her soft, nearly translucent skin into the square welds hard enough to form bruises.

“Retrieve the asset!”

“Don’t let her escape!”

“Are you crazy?! Fuck the asset!”

Around her, a flurry of mixed male voices shouted out contradictory directions. With only the setting sun for light, it was difficult to make out who had yelled what.

Then came more growls in addition to all the shouting. Then the shouting turned into screaming. And a handful of those screams turned into cut-off cries followed by loud squelching. A flurry of slices and swings from blades and swords interrupted what must have been the creature's onslaught, but it would certainly not last long. There would be more torn flesh, and more final yells- a final symphony of bloodshed to follow.

Kneeling into an upright position, the fair mer creature pushed and pulled frantically against the metal door of her cage. The hinges had warped in the fall, bending just so, that if enough force was applied…

With a metallic screech, the young water maiden could kick her cage door from its battered hinges. Fortunately enough for her, none of her captors seemed to notice her imminent freedom, the lot of them busy battling hideous creatures beyond any comprehensible amalgam or imagination.

Unfortunately for her, her sudden movement did not go unnoticed by one such creature.

A smaller, fiendish-looking thing, with the body of a lizard, but the head of a vulture, and the tail of a scorpion mawed loudly at her, its stinger striking warningly at the ground.

Not needing to be told twice, the young maiden leaped up and made a mad dash for the treeline on the other side of the clearing, opposite the line of creatures.

As she made it past the treeline she watched as one of her imprisoners struck successfully at the rear of the small fiendish creature with the sharp end of a spear. It cut roughly into the monster’s backside, turning the horrid thing’s attention away from her back onto her captors.

Pausing for a mere second, she took one last look at the few men still alive, fighting for their lives against the horrible creatures. Even if they were to win the fight, she swore it would be the last time she saw them. Beasts or no beasts, she was never losing her freedom again.

✧ ✧ ✧

The bottoms of her feet stung with every step, and her calves burned worse every time she jumped over branches, landing on uneven ground. Her thighs were practically numb from the midseason cold, and her time forced to rest on the cold metal bars of her prison certainly did not help. But she refused to stop running. Even if she was unfamiliar with the practice of traveling upright on two extremities, she perished the thought that her inexperience might slow her down. She could not fail. She could not yet rest. Whoever won the fight between her captors and the creatures was certain to follow after her once the battle was done. She could not waste precious time. So despite pain and exhaustion, she pushed onward.

After what felt like an eternity, although, if she were to judge by the moon, it must have only been a few hours, she found her legs could no longer support her weight, as her knees buckled beneath her, slipping on the soft embankment ground.

‘Embankment?’ The maiden, feeling a final surge of hope, strained her neck to get a better look. It did appear that she had made it to a river bank, although it was a rather small one at that. Still, the sight felt like a miracle. It had been too long since her body was submerged, snug, within her element’s embrace. And given the choice between breathing her last breaths on the cold dry forest ground, or under a river’s soft current, she’d choose the river, any day.

Using her arms to pull herself into the cold water, she breathed one final breath of chilled night air before slinking into the river water. Closing her eyes, the young maiden had but one thought:

‘If this is to be my final resting place, then so be it.’

✧ ✧ ✧

The next morning started the same way all mornings do: the sun rose in the sky, the birds and bugs began their daily chirps, and a very forlorn-looking Adrian Tepes, known currently as Alucard, son of Dracula exited his castle in search for food, his usual basket in hand. Unusual however were the two corpses that greeted him as he passed the castle steps.

Alucard paid the bodies no mind, he didn’t once glance in either of their directions. He kept his eyes forward, locked onto the foliage and wildlife hidden within the forest line choosing to pretend the bodies were no longer there. Yes, he knew they were there. Of course, he knew. He was the one to string them up after all. But if he were to acknowledge the corpses' presence, then he would also be required to acknowledge the circumstances that led them to be staked there, and that was something not even the great slayer of Dracula could do. So instead Alucard did what he could: he adjusted the basket in his arms and began mentally preparing the meal he would make.

Coming to the river bank, Alucard felt something was off. He sensed another presence nearby. Kneeling down to the water, he kept his ears open for any movement within the trees but did not hear any.

‘Odd.’ The dhampir waited for a spell before resuming his usual activities. He methodically removed his boots, before rolling up the ends of his pants, as he prepared to wade into the river. He had found a comfortable position, balanced on the river rocks below his feet when he noticed another oddity.

“Where have all the fish gone?”

The river, once teeming with fish, ones even brave enough to stick around as he waded into the water, were nowhere to be seen. Besides the rushing of water over the river bank, Alucard could not hear them swimming around within the water below.

Turning his head, he found a single glint of scales reflecting the morning’s rays a few meters from where he had been standing. But just one fish? Or perhaps, a damn of some kind was preventing them from moving freely. Alucard made a move to investigate closer. But then, just as he turned to do so, what appeared to be an incredibly large fish leaped out of the river, and flopped onto the bank. It writhed around, flopping this way and that before rolling over to face him. It was at that moment Alucard realized why all the other fish had disappeared. There was no damn, no net. It was because of this… this creature.

✧ ✧ ✧

The young mermaid awoke with a start, the deep echo of footsteps underwater had vibrated her awake. From where she lay, her vision was obscured, but she could make it out that the being was human in nature, standing on two legs, with only two arms to boot. It did not possess any claws or animal characteristics like any of the night creatures from the night before, nor did it appear to resemble any of the men who had taken her.

The maiden stayed as still as stone, hoping this new strange human would grow bored of waiting for a meal to catch, turn around, and go home. But luck, as it had proven time and time again as of late, was not on her side.

The man made a move towards her position, and she found she could not help the fear that bubbled up from inside her chest. The river was too small for her to swim through. More so, moving within the water would only create splashes to further catch this stranger’s attention. If she wanted to get away, she’d need to shift back to her human form and make yet another run for it on foot.

Using the strength her long waterlogged rest had given her, she propelled her body out of the water, onto the river bank. As soon as her full body was on land, she writhed and wriggled, doing all she could to shake the excess water from her body.

Her earlier set of legs had once again merged into a fishtail, strong and thick, with grooved fins to match. Her abdomen and chest were plated with scales all up the sides. And as she shook herself dry, several of those scales slid off her body into the dirt. Her ears, previously flesh and pointed more like an elf’s, had pulled back, with loose tentacle-like fins spouting out around their outer shell. In the daylight, she knew there was no mistaking what she was. But if she was to change her form quickly, it was a risk she needed to take.

Despite the morning's warm sun, her body did not dry as fast as she had hoped. The maiden used her arms, and her now-clawed fingers to pull herself up further, finally gaining purchase on one bark of a tree, as she did her best to twist around and face this stranger head-on.

Letting out a hiss, she bore her fangs at the strange blonde man standing before her. Only the man did not seem intimidated, nor shocked to see a creature such as herself. If anything, he appeared, at ease. Was this perhaps a trap? She hissed again but found herself on the side of surprise when the seemingly human man bared his own set of fangs and hissed back.

✧ ✧ ✧

‘A mermaid?’ Alucard watched, amused, as the young creature did her best to appear menacing to him. If only she knew, how instead of fear, Alucard felt a rush of reassurance at the sight of her inhuman features.

‘Humans,’ he thought bitterly. It was two humans who had hurt him most of all. Not even his own father’s war on humanity had harmed him the way those two did. His father left him for dead paled in comparison to the shame and torment he carried with him from that one night.

Had a human shown their face on his property, he’d… Well, Alucard was not certain what he would do should they refuse his order to leave. But whatever he decided, it would not be a fate any would enjoy, that’s for certain.

Thankfully, with the very distinct mer-features of this individual, that point was moot. He did not need to threaten disembowelment or an eternity of torture as a spawn, Alucard felt no such need to.

He took a step closer, taking in her unique features. Her eyes were large and dark, almost pure pools of black. He could feel the pull luring him in closer the longer he looked into them. Her skin was almost opaque, despite its color. At certain angles, rays of the morning sun seemed to shine through her body, as opposed to around it. And her tail, no doubt the most impressive of her peculiarities, glinted impressively, making her an almost otherworldly mirage against the browns and greens of the surrounding greenery.

Of course, no sooner than Alucard could admire such an ethereal sight, her tail began to lose some of its luminescence, growing duller by the second. The previously shiny scales that overlapped each other began to flake off, one by one. Down the middle of her tail, from where her belly button would have been on her abdomen had she been a human, what scaled skin remained began to crack, viscously, like a deep fissure that would not heal. The fissure continued to grow in depth and width as Alucard came within feet of her.

She hissed for a second time at his forward movement, but Alucurd was undeterred. Smiling a sort of melancholy smile, he paused before opening up his maw, revealing his impressive fangs with a hiss of his own.

At his revelation, the creature’s demeanor changed abruptly. Gone was the fear and hatred in her eyes, instead replaced by a much more benevolent wonder.

She opened her mouth, the tentacles around her ears shriveling into themselves, her ears changing to a more elven point as they came to rest flatter against her head. Alucard watched as her fangs dissipated too, the sharp canine points rounding themselves down into very simple humanoid-looking teeth. The back of her throat opened and closed, but very little sound came out. If she was trying to communicate, it seemed a verbal conversation was currently off the table.

“I am Alucard Tepes, son of Dracula and Lisa Tepes.” Alucard spoke, taking the lead for her. “And I am not human.”

The mermaid closed her eyes as she leaned back against the tree bark, wincing once or twice as a very slime-covered, human-looking bottom half cracked free from the dried shell of her former tail. She used her hands to pull the husks away from her body, leaving every bit of her person on display.

Alucard cleared his throat before deciding to remove his shirt and give it to her. He tossed the white shirt to the maiden who caught it in one hand. Bringing it in to smell, she sniffed it before looking back at him curiously.

“If you wish to spend the walk back to my castle naked, I won’t stop you. But as I’m sure you’ve learned, people up here spend most of their life clothed.”

She turned her head in the opposite direction as if to say, ‘So?’ before ultimately relenting, pulling the white top over her head.

Making a move to stand, her legs wobbled, giving out underneath her. But before she could fall, by the grace of his vampiric speed, Alucard managed to catch her, one of his arms looping under hers around her shoulder. Upon noticing the sudden conflict, the mermaiden hissed again but made no move to shove him off. Making another choked-off sound, from the back of her throat, she tried speaking again.

“Ghhank hou.” Frowning, she cleared her throat before trying again. “Thgank cou,” her voice was quiet, and yet deep and guttural at the same time as if she was holding back.

“So you can speak,” Alucard commented as he helped her walk a distance, finding her balance.

The young maiden nodded, before shaking her head. “Youg may naught want mee too.” She blinked her large, dark eyes at him, pointing to them, them down to her throat as she did so. “Sssighh-rhen.”

Alucard paused his walking, staring his golden orbs back at her. In the light, the mermaid watched as they glittered and shined, an almost metallic color, reminiscent of pirates’ gold, lulling her into a sense of security. She gave off a warning growl, having caught on to the fact that she was not the only one with influential abilities. Alucard blinked twice, breaking off the trance.

“As I said before,” he reiterated, leading the way back to his castle, “I am not human.”

The mermaiden watched him, as an almost smirk graced her inhumanely beautiful face. “Gooodd,” she hissed out.

✧ ✧ ✧

“That is how the castle came to be in my possession.”

Alucard led the young mermaiden down the many hallways and corridors of the castle, telling her the story of how he, along with Belmont and Sypha, were tasked with defeating Dracula. He stopped to point out various rooms along the way, the ones he was the most familiar with, anyway. There was still much of the castle that felt foreign to him. It was as if he walked the rows of a graveyard, rarely stopping to notice yet another name on a tombstone. How many hands had helped build this place? How much of their blood was shed to gather all the infinite knowledge and wealth that was kept here? Alucard did not know. Nor was he certain he wanted to know.

Walking past the various debris and carnage still left from their battle with Dracula, Alucard ushered her into his father’s former study, now his study. In the middle of the room sat one large rather ornate chair, placed before a cracked fireplace. In the chair was a crumbled blanket and pillow. On the small table next to it, a cold long-forgotten cup of tea. The items together suggested this chair was used in recent days for sleeping, not for sitting and reading or studying of any sort.

The mermaiden narrowed her eyes at that. Surely, even with this battle, Alucard claimed had taken place within his home, there were bedrooms and living quarters left unbothered. Why would someone in possession of such a grand and luxurious home sleep sitting up in a chair? Or perhaps, was it a question of biology, not psychology? Did a being like Alucard require sleep at all?

As the mermaiden contemplated, Alucard kneeled down to start a fire, but not before vaguely gesturing at the crack that ran up the front brick of the fireplace. “As you can see, the fight was not limited to one area or room.”

“Bprokeghn,” the mermaid nodded before gesturing herself to the chair and blanket set-up. “Behd?”

Alucard cleared his throat, as he stoked the beginning flames of the fire. “My room was… damaged, yes.”

Seemingly content with that answer, the mermaiden turned her attention to other parts of the room.

Off to the right there were various bookshelves and texts. And on the left? A modest oak desk sat under a large painting of a beautiful woman. Her hair was golden, almost appearing to glow under the warm hue of the fire’s dancing light. Her eyes were large and hopeful, and her size petite but strong. In her hand, she held a white flower, although its beauty paled in comparison to hers, it was a lovely touch against the dark maroon dress she was wearing.

“Prehty,” she said, stopping to admire the woman in the painting.

Upon hearing her words, Alucard looked up, a soft smile having formed on his face. “Yes,” he said. “She was beautiful.”

Glancing back at the man, the mer creature noticed his hair was blonde and rather lovely as well. Not as gorgeous as her own siren’s locks of course, but that was understandable. She pointed to the hair of the woman in the painting before pointing to her own, and then finally, to his. “Prehty too.”

✧ ✧ ✧

From where he stood in the kitchen, Alucard watched amusedly as the young woman tried taking a bite of her grossly undercooked fish using a knife and fork, stifling a laugh every time she would manage to grip one utensil only to drop the other. Her less-than-human approach to everyday things made Alucard feel at ease. She was not a lying, conniving human he had to watch out for, she was not biding her time waiting to stab him in the back. Quite the contrary: she was blunt and rather oblivious to human social conventions.

She had very little reservations when it came to nudity, Alucard had come to discover. If it wasn’t for his polite, insistence, she would have continued to roam the castle naked. Dwelling deep underwater made her rather immune to things like catching a chill. Alucard was similar, he did not feel the cold the way humans did, although he was not entirely immune to it. He would surely suffer frostbite should he choose to venture outside in the dead of winter without any clothes on his back. However, unlike a human, and more like a vampire, it would take more than freezing exposure to do him in.

It was almost comforting in a way, to share the castle with someone who’s biology was surprisingly close to his. She was more unhuman than human most days, her residual scales and sharp claw-like nails coming back once her body had returned to full-health. Her teeth had also increased in length, although Alucard suspected she could control their sharpness at will to some degree, her opting to keep her incisors short and squared, more human-like, whenever the two would talk walks around outside the castle.

The mermaiden also had an interesting diet. She preferred her food cold, if not raw. Even things like fish and other meats, she refused to eat properly cooked. Alucard briefly recalled the first time he had tried to offer her dinner. He steamed her fish the same way he steamed his, and presented it to her, expecting gratitude. It was humourous now, but back then he recalled being rather dissatisfied with her indignant reaction. She hissed, and berated him for serving her something ‘burnt’, or ‘burrrnt’ as she had called it.

Alucard discovered it was less of a preference and more of a requirement when he found her eagerly licking the blood from a freshly killed and skinned hare he had fetched for dinner. It seemed that she, like him, and like the many other supernatural creatures, had a penchant for blood that was born out of a necessity, and not mere cruelty. With her diet of raw and bloody food, her skin appeared healthier- still as shiny and translucent, but less gray. Her human form’s skin was less cakey and dry, and when she did change back into her tailed form, which was rather often given how much she enjoyed lounging in one of the castle’s large communal baths, her scales shed much less than they had when they first met. Upon her initial arrival at the castle, Alucard found she’d leave scales behind her wherever she walked, the same way a lover might lay out a trail of rose petals. Of course in this case, there was no intimate surprise waiting for him behind closed doors (not that he’d want one given his past circumstances, anyway), but a very brash and temperamental half-siren, usually impatiently awaiting yet another “useless” lesson in human conventions.

“Naught fun-ie,” she hissed, under her breath, well aware of Alucard’s amusement. “No need for toools underwater.” She dropped both her knife and fork unceremoniously onto her plate before crossing her arms, looking like a wilful toddler.

“There’s no one to impress here,” Alucard assured her. “Besides, even without a fork and knife I’m sure you eat like a magistrate compared to Belmont. The rodents outside have more manners.”

“Belmonnt,” the fair maiden repeated, picking up her fish with her bare hands. “Frrend.”

“Yes. Although, I haven’t seen him or Sypha for quite some time.” Alucard answered, just a hint of loneliness creeping into his voice.

“Hadd frend wonss.” Biting into her fish, she tore a chunk of flesh off with her teeth, a satisfied groan leaving her body as some of the excess moisture dribbled down her chin. “Huumann too.” She swallowed her bite of fish down, not bothering to chew much at all. “Dyed.” She licked her lips in satisfaction. “Beectraaid.”

“Wherever humans are concerned, such possibilities are never in short supply.” Alucard agreed, handing her a cloth napkin to wipe her chin. “It is their nature.”

Choking down the rest of her fish, the mermaiden swallowed harshly again before asking, “Owtsighed?” Of course, the two giant stakes housing decayed corpses had not escaped her notice on their way inside.

Alucard retrieved her empty plate, moving to place it in the sink. Closing his eyes, he desperately tried not to remember the feel of the silver cords burning his skin, the way he suffocating under Taka and Sumi’s gaze, how if it were not for his sword and the magical component of it, it’d be his body flayed and strung up outside instead of theirs. Despite not having had anything to chew or eat, Alucard swallowed hard as well.

“Yes,” he finally said.

✧ ✧ ✧

“Where are wee going?” The mermaiden asked, her vocabulary and annunciation having improved much over the last couple of weeks.

Dressed in a relatively sheer nightgown and robe, the young woman begrudgingly followed Alucard, already dressed for the day, as he led her over to the remains of the Belmont hold. Upon reaching the cleverly designed pulley system, Alucard lifted the safety bar of the lift and gestured for her to get in.

The young mer woman bared her teeth but did not hiss, a vast improvement of manners and trust on her part.

“You may recall in the past, I’ve mentioned a man named Belmont, Trevor Belmont.” Alucard set the bar back down, clicking it into place, before pulling one of the levers to begin their descent.

She nodded. “Friend. Miss him.”

Alucard furrowed his brow. “I do not believe I’ve once said I missed his company.”

The young woman shrugged her shoulders, a form of nonverbal human communication she had recently picked up on. “Still,” she wagged a finger, disapprovingly. “Can tell. No want to be alone.”

Having reached the bottom of the lift, Alucard secured the platform before exiting, seemingly eager to remove himself from their current conversation. “I speak his name frequently because he has gifted me a rather large piece of his family’s inheritance for safekeeping. Without my permission, I might add.”

Flicking a large switch on the wall, the mermaiden watched in awe as hundreds of blue flames suddenly sparked alight, illuminating an expansive cavern of towered rows and rows of books and other meticulously organized collections.

“This,” Alucard extended his arm out, showcasing the vastness of the space before them, “Is the Belmont Hold. It possesses all the knowledge the Belmonts learned on creatures of the night, the collection starting generations ago. Everything any Belmont learned has been recorded onto paper, and stored somewhere within these tomes.”

Temporarily blindsided by excitement, the mermaiden found herself quickly making her way down several sets of stairs, her balance thankfully having improved tenfold, as she ignored the darker implications of Alucard’s words.

“So much boooks!” She cried out, settling on entering a random upper row of tomes, pulling one out of the shelf. “So much papper!”

Alucard nodded, coming to join her. “I take it your people do not have much use for such records underwater?”

The young mer woman nodded, running her clawed fingers delicately over the inked pages. “Runes. Maghik. No paper.”

Carefully, Alucard took the book from her hands and placed it back onto the shelf where it belonged. Before the mermaiden could bare her teeth or hiss at him in irritation he had already begun climbing down a nearby ladder, calling for her to follow. “Come. The books are impressive, but they are not what I wish to show you.”

Reaching the lowest level before her, Alucard smiled softly as his eyes were met with the familiar scene of a magic mirror, and open chest. How strange to think he and his friends stood on this very ground when Sypha successfully managed to summon the castle. How strange to think right there, under his feet, was where Adrian Tepes died and Alucard of Wallachia truly began.

There was a time when Alucard believed he and he alone would be the one to ever stand upon this, practically hallowed ground. Belmont was not yet sure if he wished to resume the responsibilities of his namesake. And Sypha, well, Sypha had chosen to follow Belmont in whatever trouble he managed to get himself into. Who knows if they would be back, if they ever intended on coming back? At the end of their journey, there was Alucard, left alone to shoulder the burden of both their families’ legacies.

Trevor had told him not to make the castle his grave, but to use it and the hold to… help people. Such a task seemed near impossible when you were one dhampir, isolated far away from the rest of the world. But then, Alucard reflected, along came Taka and Sumi, and perhaps, he had once thought, he would no longer have to be alone.

They were so eager to learn, but they were also so eager to leave. They did not come intending to stay, Alucard knew this, and yet, he could not help the way he drew their lessons out, making sure to be as detailed as possible. If they must go, he supposed, he could make it so they did not leave for a while. It was foolish to think his desires would go unnoticed by the two humans. More foolish perhaps, to expect them to understand. Alucard had been wrong.

They sensed he was less than forthcoming, Alucard could not deny that was true. But he never lied, not once to them. But in their humanity, in their hurt and in their pain and guilt and anger they felt they were deceived. Perhaps deception was so readily on their mind because they had arrived with a plan to play him for a fool all along.

Either way, it was fatal on their part. Alucard may have wanted them to stay, but he did not need them. They alleviated his loneliness, but they were not necessary companions, not like Trevor or Sypha. They were far too different, far too divested from the line of existence Alucard walked to ever truly understand him. Being human, they ignorantly believed themselves to possess so many options of their own, but as fate had proven: they too were wrong.

But this young woman, this siren, this mermaid, she was different. She did not come seeking him, rather their meeting was entirely accidental. And this time, the playing field was even: she needed him just as much, if not more, than Alucard wanted her. It was different this time. Here, within the Belmont hold and his castle, she was the outsider. And no matter how long she stayed with him, no matter how hard she tried, she would remain less human than Alucard. Next to her, he was not a monster or a beast, no.

At her side, he appeared solely as Wallachia’s savior, Alucard, and he was neither human nor monster.

Coming back to the present moment, Alucard watched silently as the mermaiden approached the glass display case of vampire skulls. He watched as her eyes widened, and her fists clenched, before she spun around, her fangs bared. “Exsplain, now!”

“The Belmonts hunted creatures of the night for centuries. They came to Wallachia hunting Dracula and his army of vampires.”

“You said Belmont friend!”

“He is- was. As I have said to you before, he aided me in my journey to defeat my Father Dracula, to prevent him from securing the extinction of the human race.”

The mermaiden tilted her head to the side. “Buut why? You vampire.”

“Not entirely,” Alucard countered.

The mermaiden’s eyes squinted. “What?”

“The woman in portraits you’ve so admired within the castle, she was my mother, Lisa Tepes, and she was human.”

Enraged, the mermaiden’s face contorted into an expression of anger, her nostrils flaring with every huff of air she took. “Liar!” She accused him, making her way around the side of the cabinet, trying to move past the dhampir without encountering him directly. “You said humans betrayed! You said not like them! You lie!”

“I did not lie. I never told you I was wholly vampire, nor did I once say I was not part human.” Alucard mirrored her movement, cutting her off before she could reach the stairs. “I aided humanity only to be betrayed by humans. I do not belong in their world, nor do they belong in mine.”

“Nor in minesss!” She snarled. “You human. Not friend. Not anymoresss.” Shoving past Alucard she began up the stairs before she felt a hand on her wrist yank her back. Whipping around, she found herself face to face with Alucard, his expression angry, his fangs elongated and on clear display.

“And where will you go? Your human charade may not disturb me but it is bound to alert others. There is no city, no town where you could travel that they would believe you to be one of their own.” His voice was deep, dark, and full of disdain.

“Then I go home,” she retorted. “With othersss like mee.”

“Do you think they will accept you now you’ve lived with a human, lain with a human?”

“Half,” she spit into his face before sneering: “Half huumannn.”

Alucard did not even flinch, entirely unphased by her vulgar action. “Human nonetheless,” he said, the ice in his veins offset only by the golden fire in his eyes. “Not even they would welcome you back now. There is nowhere you can go, no one who would welcome you. I,” he spoke, baring his fangs, “am all you have left. I am the only one who understands.”

The mermaiden opened her mouth to speak, but could not find the words. She closed her mouth before opening it again, still hesitant on how to respond. If it was not as serious of a moment, Alucard would have laughed: she truly looked like a fish out of water.

Careful as not to spook her, he slowly raised one hand, using it to wipe away a stray tear that had fallen from her eyes. How strange a sight to see a siren crying, awful yet beautiful at the same time. Like him, Alucard thought.

“You are the only one who could possibly understand me. You need not ever leave.” Alucard used his other hand to take one of her own, and guide it, resting it atop his chest. “I do not wish to be alone anymore.”

The maiden choked back more tears, shocked she was shedding them in the first place in Alucard’s presence.

Prior to those horrible humans taking her, tears were not something the mermaiden had ever experienced. Living underwater, she was surrounded by saltwater. Even on the occasions she was consumed by great emotion, her eyes behaved no different, felt no different than they did being in their usual full-contact with water as they were everyday. But after she was taken, she found the ability to cry, something she despised. It burned the skin of her cheeks with hot shame, her throat felt too tight for air: the process of crying was foreign, and undeniably painful. She prayed it would not become a normal occurrence for her. She swore the moment she was free of her captors, she would never shed a tear again. And then she met Alucard. And he was…

Sweet. He was kind. He was not an ignorant, vengeful human. Surely, he would not give her reason to cry. They were of the same kind, she and him. He would harbor no hate for her in his heart.

How foolish of the girl to think hatred was the only feeling capable of creating pain, of making remorse. Afterall, ‘love’ was just as powerful. ‘Love’ was just as dangerous.

Deep down, the young siren knew the dhampir’s words were true: there was nowhere else she could go, there was no one else who would understand her, and care for her the way he did.

In fairness, he was not fully human, he was half vampire, and his father was the great Lord Dracula to boot. He was not simple in the way other humans were. He was not stupid in the way people were. He was educated and well-aware of the fragility of egos, the slow passing of time… He did not look at the world through a mortal lens. The mermaiden knew she could do worse, in choosing someone to trust, in picking someone to rely on.

Then again, he was half-human. She was wise to fear him, to doubt him. He may have meant what he said, when he told her she need not leave, but that did not mean she needn’t want to. But she was so far from home, so far from more of her own kind. Who else left in this region ravaged by night creatures and monsters would open their home to her the way he had? Perhaps it was wiser to stay.

Did she even possess a choice in the matter?

Even withIn the arms of that former stranger, she felt more forsaken than she had when those evil traders first captured her. She felt so alone… Gods…

She, too, wished not to be alone anymore.

“Ssstay.”

“What?” Alucard’s head snapped up at the sound of her words. “Truly?” He could not help the hope that seeped into his voice. “You wish to stay with me?”

Before him, the mermaiden nodded, yet another human expression she had come to love over the past few weeks. “Yessss,” she hissed out, her voice still nasally from her earlier tears. “I ssstay.”

A/N: Holy shit! Almost 8,000 words here. And to think I did it all while fighting the worst virus of my life! (See, THAT just goes to show you how strong my love for Alucard is.

Don’t forget to Like & REBLOG!!!

And if you enjoyed it, feel free to Tip Me on Kofi!

#alucard x reader #alucard castlevania #adrian tepes x reader #alucard tepes x reader #yandere alucard x reader #yandere alucard #alucard imagine #adrian fahrenheit tepes #adrian tepes #tw yandere #tw: yandere #yandere #os #castlevania #yandere alucard siren reader

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flor4de4amor · 5 months

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𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤

click for palestine | read before engaging w my work+acc

warnings: smoking, drinking, party setting

summary: you’re the basketball manager of abby’s team. you hate her, and for why? she can’t help but notice you’re at the same party as her.

She’s a tough player. She bleeds stark crimson, screams confidence, and demands respect on the court. She owns the court and the crowd. As captain of the team and star player, she constantly has girls throwing themselves at her.

“Abby can you sign my tits?”

“Abby can I take a picture with you?”

“Abby will you go out with me?”

Abby. Abby. Abby.

While, it’s an ego boost, huge, ego boost, she can’t lie and say it doesn’t get boring. Which is why, she absolutely adores you. Team manager, pain in her ass, and absolutely gorgeous.

Always rolling your eyes at her, cutting her off when she speaks, “forgetting” to film her for the team’s social media. You work overtime to stay out of her way, but that only riles her up more.

Now she’s got to piss you off. Get in the way of your shots of video, flipping off the camera in group pictures so now they’re totally useless, causing problems so you get in trouble. God, you’re so uptight. Can’t you learn how to have a bit of fun? Fucking stick up your ass. A good time has never hurt anyone.You’re the only one who gets her acting this way. Before you started the Anderson smear campaign, she was a dictator of a captain.

So imagine her surprise, when she sees Little Miss. Prissy at the latest frat party. Miss. Stick Up Her Ass, has quite the tolerance it seems, as she admires you smoking a thick blunt coaxed with a solo cup. She sucks her teeth, closes her hand into a fist, and runs over her knuckles with her thumb. Ms. Perfect, isn’t so perfect after all.

She can’t help herself. She starts walking towards you, with that stupid smile on her face. “Hey L/N,” she says, looking you up and down. You look upwards at her, glancing away from your phone, and rolling your eyes. You grunt in response and offer a sarcastic smile for supplement. “You really gonna be that way?” She raises her eyebrow and presses her tongue against the side of her cheek.

You gulp down the remainder of your drink, and place the empty cup in her hand. “Yes, I’m gonna be that way with you Abby.” Bitterness is laced throughout your voice.

She grimaces, though there’s no threat in the sound. “Fuck I ever did to you huh?” She questions, leaning into your frame. It’s too loud in here. Mo Mamba is playing for the eightieth time. Besides, it doesn’t hurt to get in your personal space. Abby discards the plastic cup while speaking, aimlessly throwing it on the floor. If she had been trying, she probably would’ve landed directly in the trash can. Well, if the hosts had half a brain to even set up a trashcan in this stupid trap house.

You lean further back and fail. The back of your skull hits the dry wood with a soft thump. Abby’s cornered you against the wall. “Nothing.” You sigh. Alcohol glued to your breath. Eyes red and lidded, your lips jutted slightly. You’re too pretty to hate her. It’s a crime!

“Nothing yeah?” She steals the blunt from your hands, holding it between her thick fingers. “So what’s your fucking issue with me?” She holds the drug to her lips, her arms still boxing you close to her frame.

You look her up and down. “I’m a mandated reporter y’know. I’ve gotta tell Coach you’re smoking.”

She laughs heartily. Her breath fans against your face, and you smell the Fireball on it. “I get someone else to take my drug test for me, anyway.” She winks at you. You’re attempted to cringe, but maybe it’s the lack of space or your intoxication but you feel heat rushing to your face.

You’re complied to roll your eyes at her comment. “I also have to report that.”

She smiles, licking her lips. “Let me know when you send in the complaint.” The blunt still dangles from her hands and lingers on her lips.

“Let me know when you’re gonna take a hint and stop teasing me.” You regret the words out of your mouth as soon as you say them.

She inhales, ghosting impressively. “You wanna be teased?” Her smirk growing, “I’ll show you teasing. Anytime. Just say when L/N.”

You laugh, tossing your head back, carefully so you don’t hit the wall again. “You’re so not my type,” you state firmly.

“That’s what they all say,” she takes another hit, now blowing rings.

You take the blunt once it leaves her lips. Snatching it from her fingers and capturing it within your own. “You’re being greedy.” You take a large inhale, holding for a minute. Once exhaling, you blow the smoke in her face.

She feigns a pout. You smile and take another inhale. But once ready to breathe out, Abby closes into your face, parting her lips. She gladly inhales your exhale. “That was practically a kiss.”

“Gross,” you retort, but the smile on your face betrays you.

“Gross yeah?” She wets her lips, staring heavily at yours. You nod intensely. Your eyes find their way to her pink lips. “Hm, I’ll show you gross.” She kisses you, softly at first. When you don’t fight her, and in fact moan, she slips her tongue into your wet mouth. You follow suit. Her hand finds its way to your hair. She pulls away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you. “Thought you said I was gross?”

“Cause you are,” you say attempting to keep up your facade.

“I’ll show you how gross I can really be,” her hand coming up to your face, smushing it.

You swat away her hand, killing your soul a little in the process. “Absolutely not,” you reply without a hint of conviction in your voice.

“Our secret hm?”

When she says it like that who’re you to deny? “Fine. But don’t let me end up on the long list of names of girls you fucked.” You toss your blunt into one of the forgotten drinks.

She pinches your ass, hand finding its way to your waist, leading you out the door. It’s gonna be a long night and embarrassing practice run on Monday.

divider by: @dollywons

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luvtak · 1 year

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you can hear it in the silence, njm

✧ pairing na jaemin x reader

✧ genre/tw est. relationship, crying, reader is drunk weeping lol, fluff fluff fluff!! suggestive at the end, reader is described to be smaller than jaemin, basically you love jaemin so much you can't stop crying about it and he loves you too!!

✧w/c 1216

✧ a/n cooked this one up after weeks of writing nothing lmao, i love jaemin and thats what started this. i hope you love reading it as much as i liked writing it <3

You wonder how silly you look, eyes flooded and nose pouring out snot.

It’s not the crying that’s silly, it’s the reason for the tears—your boyfriend’s smile spread miles across his face laughing at his friends. He just looks so beautiful, every bit of the boy you fell in love with those months ago shifting and changing himself into the version he is now. Always so gorgeous and so kind that you can’t help being moved to tears by this joyful vision of him.

Maybe it’s the alcohol coursing through your system pushing past playful debauchery and welcoming melodrama, or maybe it’s just that you love him.

You love him so much you find it hard to talk about, only letting out the words in the quiet cathedral of your home together. Jaemin doesn’t seem to mind, carrying enough confidence in his affections for the both of you—he’s fluent in love, knows how to carry a conversation in his heart and his body, knows all the slang terms and cultural practices; he’s an expert at love, even more so at loving you.

Somehow, he always knows exactly what you need, handing you a cup before you can say you’re thirsty, calling you at the precise time you leave to walk in the dark, kissing you right before you say his three favorite words. So, it’s not surprising when he looks up to see you with tears spiraling down your face.

Although, he can’t tell if their happy tears or not. He thinks in some part of himself that they must be, that if you were so heartbroken you would’ve parted the crowd of people to get to him—or worse fled outside or to a bathroom, somewhere to cry by yourself. But you look so sad. A picture of pain, standing all alone in a corner—bliss and mischief touching everything but your tragic little bubble.

Without warning, Jaemin finds himself rushing to you, offering only a short see you later! Before separating himself from the boys surrounding him. You’ve caved into yourself, crying and sniffling about something he couldn’t understand, what happened in the forty minutes he’d been away from you to make you like this?

“Hey…hey, look at me. What’s wrong? What’s on your mind pretty thing?” his voice so quiet in such a loud room, the deep timbre of it reverberating through your shaking frame. It cuts through the electronica coming from the speakers and finally your eyes meet. And there he is, your disgustingly pretty boy. So handsome and darling even with worry in his eyes, boyish beauty covering every inch of him. How you love him, and this love only makes you cry more: barely getting your words out,

“Oh, it’s nothing Jaemin, I just love you.” Your speech is slurred and spluttered out, almost indistinguishable from the whimpers and sobs from before, but he hears you. He thinks his ears must be fine-tuned to your voice because there is no other way he should’ve been able to decipher your upset dawdling’s.

“You silly creature, why would you cry over me?” “Jus- just love you that’s all. Can’t believe you love me too.” Your words end in a huff, blanketed by the sound of his arms pulling you in. He’s so tall, bigger than you in every way and yet you fit together like a puzzle. His arms caging you in, pressing so close to put your ear to his heart. It’s beating so fast, pulsing beneath your head in an uneven rhythm, he must’ve been so worried. It makes your head hurt a little thinking about your sweet summer boy looking up to see you like this, rushing over for nothing but the drunk ramblings of someone who should probably be in bed.

“So, these are happy tears?” a nod given hesitantly from you in response, you aren’t quite sure they are happy—more of a mix, a bittersweet concoction of future happiness and past regret that you can’t seem to name. “Promise?”

“Yes, Jaem, I promise.” it’s only then does he let up, pulling you away from his chest for just a moment to look at your tear-stricken face. He loves every version of you, but he wished he didn’t have to see this one; Sleepy and sad and crying over silly things.

“I love you so much, and I’m glad you know… even if it makes you cry all alone at parties.” Your smile is a shot of spring, giving new life to the previous tragic picture of it. He wishes you were alone, free to love you in all the ways he needs to. He knows these party patrons won’t mind, but you would, and he’d hate to make you uncomfortable in any way even if it is just a kiss in a crowded room—you’d care, so he cares.

He knows you need to leave, knows this loud pulsing of music is doing nothing to calm the storm in your head, he knows he needs to be sensible. With one last embrace, whispering his true feelings, he offers you his hand and says, “Let’s go home, huh?”

The walk is fast, but the night chill bites. Sobering you from the inside out and forcing the two of you to stand together like you’re in a three-legged race—laughing and stumbling into the dark. He jokes and teases and wishes for your smiles, not daring to kiss you until your eyes light with happiness instead of this strange melancholy you found yourself in. When you finally grin up at him, he thanks God you’re alone.

Finally, there is no one around but your boy and the stars, smiling down at you and waiting for your next move. He presses his hands to your face to trace the path your stray tears took. He’s such a pretty boy, alive and electric and in love, and all you can do is kiss him. A slow press of your lips before he takes control, searching for the love on your lips, whittling you down to the bone so the only thing on your mind is him, him, him.

He tells you he loves you too in between kisses, it’s so messy, smiles meeting in the middle and clacking teeth. Kisses so harsh you wonder where your sweet boy went, just for him to shift back—tender hands on fragile skin.

You think this is what it means to have found your person, trusting your heart and your body in someone else’s hands and walking into the night.

Jaemin’s body is warm, so yours is too; his smile is the crescent moon above you, reflecting off your own until you’re both smiley fools rushing towards your front door. You know what will happen next, you know he’ll show you how fluent in love he really is—show you with his hands and his heart and his tongue, how he’ll tuck you in and tell you his three favorite words. You know you’ll wake up to his love again, surrounding you like the early morning sun and making you cry tears of pleasure instead of bittersweet pain.

You know you’ll be happy and in love,

and when your pretty boy tells you, I love you sweetheart, you’ll say it back.

You are in love.

#nct fluff #nct dream fluff #jaemin x reader #jaemin fluff #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct x reader #jaemin #nct dream x reader #na jaemin #nct dream #nct #✧ drabble

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luveline · 2 years

Note

a hotch baby blurb along the lines of spontaneous phenomena where she works at the fbi or bau but not as a profiler and is a bit shy and quiet but he always notices her and thanks her for all her hard work ?? maybe he comes back from a case w a black eye or injury and she frets and they kiss ?? i love u mwah

I love you, thank you for your request! fem!reader

When people ask how someone as quiet as you ended up working in the Behavioural Analysis Unit, you love to say, "I just slipped in. They haven't found me yet to fire me."

For the most part, you aren't lying. You'd worked your way up by accident, and with no intentions on moving any higher you're happy in your cushy little desk job filing paperwork and typing up reports.

It also gives you a strange sort of happiness to help people out. Not for praise, though praise is nice, but just to see a usually sombre breed of people uplifted. It's why you're in Hotch's office so often. He has an abundance of paperwork. You have time to file it, or if not filing, sorting. If not sorting, tying up loose ends. You figure, why not?

You wouldn't enter his office if he hadn't given permission. He knows it's you because you always leave the door open, and you know it's him because he sighs tiredly in the doorway.

"You're here late. Go home."

"It's only…" You check your watch. "Five twelve."

More tired sighing. You quickly finish up what you'd been doing at the chair in front of his desk (which, a few times, he's told you to sit behind rather than in front, because apparently his chair has better lumbar support) and click a lid back onto your pen.

"How was– oh no, what happened?"

Your lilting tone makes him smile.

"Nothing happened."

Standing from your seat, you tilt your head to get a better look at him. A shiner stains the skin around his left eye wine dark, and the sclera is bloodshot. It looks painfully sore.

"Hotch," you say softly.

"It's alright. I've had worse."

You know he's had worse. You know he's been stabbed like a pincushion and stitched closed again, know all about his perforated eardrum, his bad shoulder. That doesn't make it any easier to swallow this injury.

Somebody as kind as he is, how's it fair he hurts this often?

You move forward in an act of brazen self-indulgence that is completely unlike you and stop just shy of his shoes, looking up into his face.

He obliges you, looks down.

You picture the violence without meaning to, the hand that had hit him.

"Are you alright?" you ask.

"I'm fine." His brows lower and he winces, but they're lowering in fondness. The corners of his dark eyes crease with it, and his tone is sweet. He sounds younger than he is when he speaks to you like this, and he's been doing it more and more. "You worry more than you need to."

"I just think that… if somebody hit me like that, I'd be upset, so…" You meet his eyes and feel intimidated, not by him, though he's imposing and tall and handsome in the worst of ways, the way that's making professionalism impossible to maintain, but because you're staring your feelings I'm the face at the same time. You really care about him.

"I like my job," you say, filling a small silence he hadn't bothered to fill, his expression suddenly unreadable, "but sometimes I wish I'd been a profiler."

"Well, it's never too late."

"No, it is. And it's not because I want to do what you do, I don't even think I could, but it's–"

You cut yourself off with a nervous huff of laughter. He takes the smallest step closer, his face dipping down incrementally. "What?"

"I wish I was so I could be there."

"Yeah? What would you do?"

"I'd take care of you," you say honestly. Your face burns with heat, and you realise how corny and out of place you'd sounded instantaneously. You turn your face to the side, grimacing so hard it hurts. "I'd defend you." You attempt to save face. "I mean, I'd try to. I'm not saying the other profilers don't do that."

"I knew what you meant," he says, and lifts a hand to your cheek.

You hold your breath as he steers your face to his.

"You do take care of me," he says. "In your way, honey. You do." His thumb skips over your cheek. He seems, for once, out of order. Unsure. "Could I kiss you?"

Your fingers find their way to his shoulder. You don't know how to say yes to that, your tongue a leaden weight in your mouth, your brain a useless mess of neurons that refuse to fire.

You close your eyes and hope he gets the memo. You lift your chin. You stay very still.

Hotch kisses like a gentleman. Chaste, completely, a firm and sweet press of the lips. Then, like he's losing a handle on it, his nose pushes into yours and his lips part just slightly, and you remember to kiss back only a second before he pulls away.

You raise a hand to his face, a mirror. "You're sure it doesn't hurt?" you murmur.

"It stings, but," —he closes his eyes again, resting his forehead on yours— "I'll be okay."

#aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner x fem!reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds

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zweiginator · 3 months

Note

throuple w patrick and art.. your mind. neeeeeed the angst though. when patrick leaves!!! show it to me please

that was a bad time, the lowest of the low for all of you. art wanted to do something nice for you; you had been having a rough week and he saw how you hadn't been yourself for a few days. unwilling to open up, less talkative. you pushed away your plate at dinner and had started going to bed much earlier.

art wanted you to eat. he also wanted to see you smile, hear you make fun of something dumb he did. wanted you to wear those colorful shoes you bring out when summer begins.

so he planned a picnic. and he vividly remembered inviting patrick. saying how you had been upset lately and how having the two of them there would help her--he knew it would.

patrick wasn't interested. art knows this because he felt the pang in his heart when he said no. art even bought patrick's favorite white chocolate macadamia nut cookies that you and art would never choose over a classic chocolate chip.

"why not?" art's voice cracks a little, and it embarrasses him.

"i dunno--this is mostly a sexual thing for me. i think you're both taking this too far. this can't work with all three of us. not in a romantic way."

"yeah, it wont." art spits. "not when you're acting like this. i guess i didn't realize we're nothing but a sexual endeavor to you." art is cutting strawberries; he hisses as he cut into his thumb. but he didn't acknowledge it to patrick.

patrick looks down at the cutting board. at how art's thumb twitched as it tapped the countertop.

"it seems like you have your relationship and i'm just here anyway. so just be with her. wouldn't change anything."

"what the fuck are you talking about?" art looks so domestic, washing berries for you. and it scares patrick. you're still young, and he thought this would just be sex. flirting and tension and sex--and repeating that cycle until it inevitably ended. but the look on art's face tastes like sadness and disappointment. he picks out a rotten berry from the fresh pack, and it seems like a symbol to patrick.

"i think i need to leave you two to it."

art's response is immediate. he wants to shut all this down, to fix it. to communicate, say it's okay, just a silly misunderstanding.

but patrick is adamant. he always has been. and once he gets an idea in his head it's happening. in other words, patrick is perfect when you're something he wants. your enemy when he's ready to toss you aside. because it's not up to you at all.

art realizes this. doesn't say much.

"okay. if that's what you want."

but patrick wants him to chase him. to say no don't go, we need you.

wants you to come around the corner, sniffling. to hang off him and make his feet heavy so he has no choice but to stay.

patrick leaves. art finishes packing for the picnic as he packs his car to leave for good. miscellaneous boxes and posters and picture frames. he doesn't have too much at art's place, but he's there all the time. and every thing he does take stings art's heart a little more. he forgets to clean his thumb, too.

art picks you up for the picnic. the whole point is to cheer you up. he doesn't know how to bring it up. but you know something is off. how art looks down at his hands. how he gives you a smile that almost feels like he's jealous of you, that you don't know something that's hurting him.

you also remember art and you talking about wanting to have patrick more involved in the little things. it feels heavy and symbolic, patrick's absence at the park. and art tries to hide the white chocolate macadamia nut cookies so you don't ask him about it.

#ask #challengers #patrick zweig #art donaldson #throuple au #patrick zweig x art donaldson x reader #thinking about patrick being so upset because he just wants to be apart of it and he wants to not have commitment issues but he just does #it's easier for him to leave than to explain how you hurt him even though you didn't mean to!

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pvnks0ul · 11 months

Text

when i kissed the teacher (18+)

◈ professor!riri w. x fem!reader

sypnosis: When the course of her marriage has run awry, Riri finds herself entertaining your little crush on her.

⚠︎: deluded & kinda obsessed!reader, college student!reader, age gap, cheating, a lil dramatic coz it's in readers pov mostly, older (think late 20s-early 30s) + married!riri, car ess ee ecks, strap on (reader receiving) + oral (RW receiving), no resolve (sry lol), lil plot 4 🌽, sub!reader/Dom!riri, smut under the cut + ! amateur writing ! (Your only warning)

"Mhmm..fuck–!" Riri mewls as her hand shoves your head deeper into her cunt, your tongue pacing the most intimate part of her before licking a stripe up to her clit, kneading it just how she taught you, "Y-yeah, just like that."

Riri knew no argument would justify her continuous crimes of adultery but with you being just around the corner conveniently after each one made it easy to cough up excuses. She was very aware of the crush you had on her, so she always made sure to smile in your very general direction, calling on you first if your hand was raised because she liked the way you'd bashfully take on th challenge, even if you weren't completely sure of it.

It's not like you were a saint either. Infact, some would say you were even worse. Especially after you were caught spitefully facing the wedding picture of her and Raven, the wife, down in the early mornings if you arrived to class before her. She tried to talk to you about how disrespectful it was, but you didnt seem to care as she didnt even notice till you said something about her ring.

That landed you your first referal from her, alone. You liked riri, but were still highly upset! You just wanted her to focus in class with no distractions. You weren't actually trying to be disrespectful. Riri senses this from across the room. She watches you solemnly after you'd rolled your eyes at her. And that was just unacceptable, she had to make sure you knew that which is why she makes sure the door is locked, checking the empty hallways and unpinning the little piece of fabric that covers the window in the door before pulling out a chair next to your desk.

You'd been acting out of character alot lately and she just wanted to check in. She cared a little too much & got a little too close. The supportive hand on your knee, turned into you laying your head on her shoulder, and ended with her blouse sleeves rolled up to her elbows as she worked her way knuckle deep between your sticky thighs, lowly whispering praises as you spread yourself to accept more of her from under the desk.

When it's over, your looking at her with nothing but pure unfiltered adoration and it's bad for Riri. It's terrible for her because she doesn't feel like she just did the worst thing possible by betraying her wife instead, she was thinking about when the next time she'd be able to have you again.

Mewling around her mound, you find yourself desperate for her approval. Your brown orbs glancing up for her usual nod of approval only to find her head is thrown back against the seat of her car. Thats how you know she really needed this and you cant blame her. Spending all day in a stuffy classroom only to come home to a nagging incompetent wife just couldnt be a desirable life for anyone, you tear up sometimes just thinking about how hard it must be for Riri.

"C'mon baby." she grunts, her eyes finally gracing you, her lids were low but still, it was enough to motivate you. You groan into her at the petname, circling her clit before sucking it into your mouth and she ruts against you desperately. Your only purpose was to make her bust in your mouth again.

It takes just a few more seconds of you lapping over her pussy to have her quivering thighs clenching around your head. And you love it, the lack of air encouraging you to continue, if anything. Riri grinds her hips against your face, a hint of a whine slips past her lips as she rides her high out on you. You keep going, trying to lick her dry, suckling right from her creamy hole, Riri sucks her bottom lip under her teeth at the sight and she wants you to keep going but once she reaches the end of it she's pulling your head away by your ponytail, not wanting to overstimulate herself. You whine at this, but settle for laying your head on her quaky leg until she comes down.

"C'mere." Riri demands in a hush tone. You use her sticky thighs as support to lift yourself up, sliding right into her lap, your thighs being separated by her bare one and she grips your chin, forcing you impossibly closer into her bubble. Her dark brown almost black orbs hypnotic and locking you in their lustfilled haze as they dropped to your wet lips before back up to your blown out eyes.

You're so beautiful and she cant tell you that because she knows how you get. It was an aggravating cycle. She'll give you a compliment and then you'll bombard her with a good 50 or so questions concerning reasons why she won't choose you than.

And every single time it always ends up with you sulking back into the passenger seat, not wanting to finish anything you started as fat tears cascaded down your cheeks, asking her to drop you off or notably ditching her class the next day.

So she admires you in secret while her thumb swipes away at the slick of your full bottom lip. She brings it to her own mouth, sucking her juices off her finger in one swift motion. You gape at the vulgar display infront of you.

She brings her face closer and a gasp slips past your lips, now brushing lightly against the other, "You're gonna get in trouble.." You speak, referring to your lipstick stained lips, developing a perfect pout and Riri has no choice but to give in. She rolls her eyes before tilting her head and leaning forward, "..If that happens I'll handle it." she corrects you, finally connecting your mouths in a dreamy kiss, you push your chest into hers with a moan, kissing back with just as much intensity and her rough hands drop to fiddle with the ends of your skirt, pushing the fabric up your plush hips.

She smirks against you when she finds that you dont have any panties on, she lays her hand dormant on your mound excluding her thumb as she uses it to dip between your warm folds, cooing proudly to find it absolutely sopping. You press your chests together her with a whimper, "m-more, Riri!"

She complies, "Course..", her fingers playing with the tip of your puffy clit, your hips twitching into them, "What is it? Can't handle me no more?" she mumbles. You shake your head no, you were just so sensitive because of how busy and negligent– she’d been this week when you were becoming accustomed to getting her every night. It felt like you would cum right now if she'd asked for it.

Riri smirks at the sour expression on your face, "All you want is for someone to rub on your pretty little clit, huh?" her cool breath fans your burning cheeks as you shamelessly follow each roll of her thumb across the bud,

You nod your head at whatever she just said and she knows that look on your face, you’re close... but already?

Just when you're on the brink of a climax, you grab at her wrist and yank it away from your heat, your thighs closing with a quickness. Riri cuts her eyes at you, curious to what you're doing. You wanted to finish with her inside but if you so much as let her get a few more strokes in, it'd be too late because you don’t think you have energy to go again.

You pant against her dress shirt as she holds you up with her hands around your back, "Do you have it with you?"

And Riri catches onto what you mean, she settles you with one hand while reaching in the small black tote bag in the backseat with wet fingers.

"When I'm coming to see you..." . She returns with the harness–attached dildo and you can feel your hole clench around nothing at just the thought of being full again. "Always." she speaks in that raspy tone.

"Up." Riri taps your side, signalling you to move so she can slide it pass her thighs and you happily abide.

She guides you over it once its secured, using your slick as lubricant for her dark brown piece she lines it up with your hole and settles it half way in.

Your eyes are already closing shut as the curved girthed allowed it to touch both sides of your walls, "Nmph-! Fuck!", Your hips twitch, not sure if you can handle all of it, worried she's too big. How'd you ever get it all in before?!

Riri disagrees, gripping the globes of your ass, spreading them as she pushed her pelvic up into you, opening you to fit her like a glove with each thrust earning her high pitched shudders against her ear as you held her dress shirt between closed fists, "S'too much.."

She scoffs at this, "You wanna be good for me, right?" She whispered lowly, rubbing at the smooth skin of your hips.

"Y-yeah, for y-you–!" You groan while holding her face in your hands, admiring all the little details you could see from up here and Riris chest burns at your words, more specifically the last bit. You never failed to keep her wrapped around your fingers when you always said shit like that.

Riri kisses your palm before bottoming out with a final push in. Your spine feels like it'll break from how fast you arched it on impact, your wet clit pressing into the bottom of her white shirt and waist band of her boxers and you're already shaking against her.

Riri holds the ends of the back of your thighs, trying to be patient and wait for you to calm down but you whimpering in the crease of her neck was not helping, she swallows thickly, thinking of ways to try and prevent herself from slamming you down on her dick, "...lemme know when."

It takes a good minute for the pain to subside, for you to feel the familiar inkling of heat in the pit of your belly, waiting to blaze so, you swirl your hips a bit, the tip scraping the bottom of your cervix with each one and you desperately need more.

"Oh fuck!" you use Riris shoulders to lift yourself a few inches before plunging, your sap drenching her legs and creating a noticeable puddle on the fabric under the strap from how long you were warming her.

The girth of her faux brushing your walls almost teasingly from how horrible you were at fucking yourself, but with the way your thighs were starting to burn so easily, you wouldn’t be able to do finish on your own. You just needed a little bit of help.

"Please.." You whined into her, buzzing with ecstasy, messy thighs pathetically quivering as you opened yourself for her viewing pleasure, "I– just want you to fuck me, Riri.." she doesnt hear whatever else you managed to slur, too busy eying your pussy in awe of your pink slit just barely swallowing all 8 inches down to the base.

She quiets you with a sweeter more innocent kiss while pressing the button on the side to recline her seat, letting you rest while she takes care of it.

Riri grabs you by your waist, your head tucked as your shuddered breaths pricked the skin of her neck, steadily she ascends your lower half before bringing you back down with a wet slush, repeating her steps over again. Each gasp gets stuck in your throat as her dick stretches you out and stirs all the creaminess inside, making goosebumps rise on your skin with every thrust.

You whine louder, acrylics breaking through the sleek material of her shirt, nipping her skin as you felt the fire in your belly turn inflammatory, she was fucking you so good and you didnt want her to stop but the clenching was inevitable, halting her strokes in their place with each one.

Riri reluctantly slows to a stop, she could feel your ass jiggling but now she wanted to see it all for herself. Your eyes dart open immediately after, and you're frowning down at her because you were so close.

"Turn around, I wanna see sum."

Riri holds your thighs and the base of the strap so she can pull out smoothly. They slide up to your waist when you sat down with your back to her chest and you could feel her pebbled nipples against your skin.

She bites down harshly on her bottom lip as she enters you again, your crying and panting as she sunk deeper but she knew you'd get off better this way.

"Yeah, i know..." she coos sincerely trying to soothe your nerves, "...but you gotta take all of it f'me." she holds you down with her free hand as she effortlessly grazed that soft spot once again, grinding into you at an unsteady rhythm.

Riri pushes your back in and your back forms a perfectly sharp arch, she grabs handfulls of the flesh in one hand before smacking down on the other. The pained yelp you let out contrasted drastically to the gush of juices you leaked over her dick and already messy boxers. She does it again, switching sides and kneading the sore skin of the one that got spanked then spreading to see the aftermath.

Riri groans at the sight of clear strings creating ill shaped webs dripping at both holes. Boldly, she releases your ass and presses her thumb into the crease, going all the way down, lubricating the pad before pressing into your button. You whimper at her curious prodding & rubbing but never once did you tell her to stop.

Your head lowers in shame from how much you were enjoying this as you gave her a better angle to fuck you from, just shutting your eyes as you let her have her way with you.

Riri bounces you on her lap a few times, the sound of your pussy turning her on even more, "You're real dirty, baby." She mocks while removing her thumb, drawing her arms around your waist and forcefully bringing you back to her chest, her faux shifting inside of you.

She moves down your mound, brushing over the tip of your clit before thrumming harder, playing with the silky bud. You squeak & squirm, reaching down to try and stop her but all she does is thrust her hips up in response.

Everything was starting to move too fast for you as she swirled all 4 of her fingers over your sensitive nub, her hips working into you at the same time and all you could do was pathetically wait for it to come crashing down.

"God—ah! 'gonna make me cum!" you wail pitifully and it really is pathetic how quick it was but you truly couldnt help it.

"Uh-huh..." She hums, her grip becoming harsh as she pulls on you with so much vigor your ass starts to clap against her bare thighs. Riri bites her bottom lip as she fucks you harder, your pussy squelching endlessly just for her, "Go 'head then baby, dont make me wait for it." You nearly go cross-eyed at her accent, sloppily grinding your clit into her gungy palm for more stimulation as she brings you over the edge with a final roll of her hips.

Your whole body spasms as you cry out her name, Riri watches in amazement, her hands gripping on your hips and leaving deep dents in their wake as you whine and pant and tremble ontop of her.

"Breathe, mama." she encouraged before she kissed behind your ear. Riri continues to pump you sloppily, helping you through the overstimulation since your thighs were still trembling and you weren't forming coherent sentences. Just biting down on your already swollen lips as a desperate attempt to hide the taboo eruption, clinging onto her for dear life and Riris buzzing under you. She wants to fuck you again. Have your short acrylics scratching up her back, neck and thighs but she knows it’s not a good idea. Especially since you’d definitely miss your curfew for the umpteenth time.

She's gauging your every move before she takes a chance and leans in, grazing her teeth at the bottom of your neck to prep for the fresh row of hickies even when she knows she shouldn’t be leaving evidence muttering, “You did so good f’me.” After each one and she prays it distracts you enough for her to effectively slide her wet piece out.

was kinda scared to post this one butttt, imma thug it out for my riri girlies ‹𝟹🥲

🔖: @sapphicbarbz @shurislover @s0lam33y (special thanks to @lppriceisright for proof-reading some of this for me!!)

#riri williams x reader #ironheart x reader #dominique thorne x reader #riri fic #riri smut #riri williams smut #riri x you #riri williams fic #marvel women #marvel fanfiction #marvel smut #marvel lgbt #marvel wlw #wlw smut #𝓴𝓲𝔀𝓲𝓼 𝓯𝓲𝓬𝓼 ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

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coeurify · 1 year

Note

Hear me out Sub Ellie using the strap on Dom reader

gahshdjmf. i am obsessed w sub!top ellie. 18+

“You wanna fuck me baby?”

Your lips twitch up, lifting the corners of your mouth enough for Ellie to see the teasing tilt to it, her cheeks flushed as she looks up at you, hips stuttering just a bit.

The air in the room is heavy, filled with the little gasps that had fallen from your own mouth, and Ellie’s. She was below you, the sounds steadily spilling out from the very moment you sunk onto the strap on you allowed your girlfriend to dawn.

Now, after ages of your own aching thighs guiding the movements, Ellie had begun to become grabby.

The end of the strap pressed against her own puffy clit in a way that had her groaning with each roll of your hips down into her. The hands you had demanded stay glued to the sheets on your bed and gripped the fabric there, flexing in concentration to listen to you. Her fingers strayed a few times, grabbing at your thighs before you tsked and watched them fall back against the bed.

The question, the purr of syllables, came after her hips bucked up without much thought. The action was caught by you, walls clenching around the sudden thrust that had not been dictated by your own movement.

Ellie didn’t answer the words, her bitten lip shaking lightly as her eyes locked onto the show of the strap sinking into your glistening cunt.

“C’mon,” you prompt, swallowing down the moan rising in your drying throat. “Tell me, baby. You wanna fuck me? Tired of me usin’ you like a toy?”

You can hear the whine that cuts through Ellie’s sealed lips, the one she tries so desperately to conceal with every scrunch of her eyebrows, every twitch of her hands on the sheets. Ellie is doing her best to be good, and you just have to reward her for it. “Yes,” she admits.

Your eyes flutter closed when the silicone hits that perfect spot. When they blink open again, your vision is the picture-perfect sight of your girlfriend’s eyes searching for you.

“Go ahead baby, fuck me,” you finally speak— the switch flipping in the room lit only by the small lamp to your side. It’s instantaneous, the heat that covered your skin suddenly s blinding fire against your skin as she moved.

In an instant, Ellie’s hands are on your hips, lifting you off the strap in one fluid motion. It almost makes you dizzy, the reminder of how strong she was. The realization that she could overpower you with one swipe of her hand, and yet, she never did. She always lets you maneuver her, lead her. She was happy to relinquish all that strength to you, and it only made it so much better.

Before you can pull away from the daydream, your back hits the mattress, Ellie above you. She looks down at you, gaze flicking around your face.

“Go ahead,” you assure her again in a breathy tone. The permission is all Ellie needs, your words cut off by the overwhelming feeling of the auburn-haired girl sinking into you again.

A low moan escapes you before you can bite it back, your hand gripping at Ellie’s back. Her thrusts start off slow and calculated, never straying from the pace you had allowed her to set. The pale skin of her back turns a soft pink with every crescent-shaped mark you leave there, indents of your sharp nails.

“Fuck,” Ellie mumbles eventually, her chest rapidly moving. “Please—“ she requests, her words dripping with a sticky sweet sounding beg. “Can I go faster?”

The feeling of her body against you proves a significant distraction for finding the correct words, but you lick your lips as an attempt forms.

“You asked so nicely,” you coo through a shaky breath, “give me all you’ve got Ellie,” you continue, nails pressing harsher into her flesh, enough that you feel soft bubbles of wetness there— likely tiny pricks of blood.

“Make me feel good, El.”

#rins reqs ❀.#ellie williams #ellie williams tlou 2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams fic #ellie williams smut #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams fanfic #tlou2 #ellie tlou2 #tlou smut #tlou fic #tlou part two #sub!ellie williams #sub ellie 🔛🔝

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happilysmythe · 5 months

Text

❥ 𝙡𝙚𝙩 𝙞𝙩 𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙚𝙣

trent frederic.

word count: 4.0k

warning: explicit content

"let it happen (it's gonna feel so good)" — tame impala

A/N: this fic was inspired by the locker room raw of trent from december of 2022, gifed above. if you’d like to watch it, you can here. enjoy, and as always, happy reading!

- - -

Being a reporter isn’t all it’s made out to be when you’re harboring something that could put your career at risk.

Yet that’s exactly what you were doing, working as a journalist for the Boston Bruins.

Being in the presence of sweaty, large hockey players was something you’d inevitably have to get used to when working the field that you did. However, you never seemed to struggle with it. When people asked, you always told them that you’d simply set any minor attractions aside and focus on your work, rather than your desires. It was easy.

Until Trent Frederic came into the picture.

Something about him caught your attention the first time you stood in his proximity amongst the other reporters. He wasn’t attractive in the conventional way you knew the other players were. Most people would say he was “cute”, or “good-looking”, but that was the extent. So maybe that was it. Maybe it was his eyes, or his freckles, or the curls that poked out from under his hats.

Or maybe it was simply how fucking gorgeous he was to you, regardless of anyone else’s opinion.

That being said, you were frustrated; frustrated with yourself for letting his appearance get to you, even though you fought yourself daily for years to make sure it never happened. You knew that, at some point, someone would get the best of you, and unfortunately, he just happened to be that someone. You wanted to blame him. To take some of the pressure off of yourself for once. You wanted him and his goddamned charm to be at fault instead of you.

It’s the way he looks at you, you’d tell yourself. He’s trying to get a rise. He has to be. After all this time, you can’t be that weak.

Right?

But you knew that you were. You were weak for him. And it was just about the most unprofessional thing you could do in your position.

“What do you think it’s going to be like—to be in this type of environment?” the first reporter’s voice sounded, blinking you out of your already nervous state as you stood beside Trent.

“Uh, it kinda reminds me of a Penn State,” he replied, hand coming up to wipe the sweat from his forehead. “Or kinda like the, uh…What is it, Yost Arena in Michigan?”

The reporter nodded to confirm his statement. “I like those two rinks, so…hopefully, uh—thought we always,” he paused to breathe, “always played well there, so…hopefully it’s similar.”

Then it was your turn to speak up, and when you cleared your throat, his head pivoted in your direction. His eyes followed your voice and landed on you, his chest rising and falling as he awaited your question.

“Are there any adjustments you had to make where you’re playing in a,” you hesitated as you watched his tongue slip past his parted lips, tracing a line from the center of his bottom lip to the corner of his mouth. Your mind did all but ignore this and his audible, heavy breaths. You quickly blinked out of the state.

“In a smaller arena?” you finally continued in a humiliating attempt to sound put-together. “Or—”

“I don’t think so, I think when you’re playing you really only see the first,” he gestured his hand, “ten rows and up, so I think it’ll be fine. About the same.”

His gaze lingered on you for a split second longer than it should’ve before he turned the other way to face Sophia as she asked the next question. And it was then that you were certain he’d picked up on you.

Not to mention him abruptly cutting you off.

A few minutes passed before the cameras cut and the small crowd dispersed, leaving only him and you standing alone in front of his stall. But his voice stopped you before you could even manage a step in the other direction.

“Hey,” he called out calmly, and when you turned back around you were met with the sight of him standing nonchalantly, arms folded in front of him. “I don’t think we’re done yet.”

“…Yeah, we are. We already finished the media, no?”

“The media’s done,” he spoke, straightening himself out and taking a step toward you. “But we’re not done.”

“Well, I’m sorry to burst your bubble, Trent, but I have places to be. So if you’ll kindly excuse me—”

“You’re not going anywhere.”

You were taken aback, no doubt, but knew that you had to oblige him whether you wanted to or not. So you let out a sigh and shook your head.

He slipped off his padding, then silently jerked his head to the side, motioning for you to come with him as he walked down the outside hallway and into the nearest empty room. He promptly shut the door behind him, then walked toward you.

“What is it?” you finally piped up.

“Do you have a thing for me?”

“Wow, okay,” you scoffed, irritation lacing your defensive tone. “Do you have some sort of ego issue, or?”

“Do not play dumb right now,” he rasped, leaning closer. “You don’t think I’ve noticed the looks? The staring? The stuttering?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you rebutted, nostrils flared as you swallowed thickly.

“Oh, so you mean to tell me that I wasn’t just saving your ass back there?”

You sighed, finally letting your guard down as you lowered your voice. “Fine,” you admitted through clenched teeth. “I have a thing for you.”

And just like that, the corner of his lips twitched just slightly, as if he were suppressing a smirk. He finally leaned back and gave you room to breathe, so you seized the opportunity and took a long breath. He remained silent, waiting for you to elaborate.

“No matter how bad I want to act on it, I can’t, because I’m already in deep enough shit for wanting you in the first place,” you flatly explained. “But if we ever got caught for something like that…I’d lose my damn job, Trent. The job that I worked my ass off trying to get, and the one that’s already at enough of a fucking risk because of you.”

You shook your head disappointedly. “So sorry if I’m not getting my words right the first time.”

You brushed past him, trying to make your way toward the door but were quickly brought to a standstill when he spoke up.

“You think you’re the only one in that situation?”

You turned back around to face him, brows knit together in confusion as he stepped closer.

“And before you up and leave, I need to make something clear to you,” he spoke.

“Trent—”

“If I wasn’t attracted to you, I wouldn’t be enabling you like I do. And I sure as hell wouldn’t be trying to help you,” he told you promptly. “So think about that next time you want to think you’re the only one with problems.”

“God, Trent, that’s—this whole thing is beyond unprofessional. On both ends,” you scoffed in disbelief. “And you know that even if I wanted to, I couldn’t do anything with you because it would put me at risk.”

Of course, you wanted to. You were lying straight through your teeth. It was clear as day to Trent, too, because the subtleties told him otherwise—the hint of hesitation lacing your tone and the unease in your expression. But, to be fair, it was difficult to mask. You were already struggling with how inappropriate the whole conversation was.

And after all, nobody said it was easy to stop imagining what someone would taste like.

He stepped closer and your feet carried you backward until you came into contact with the wall behind you. Your head tilted back as you looked up at him, swallowing the lump in your throat.

“Not to mention it’s a,” you hesitated, “—a conflict of interest.”

“Write whatever the hell you want about me, because it won’t change how drawn to you I am.” A large hand gently placed itself on your hip, “And it won’t change that I’d take that chance with you.”

The tension in your face softened, sincerity bleeding through his voice as he spoke to you. You took a long, deep breath and—against any remaining shred of logic in your conflicted mind—lifted your hand to his chest, slowly trailing upward until it reached the curls on the back of his neck.

“If we got caught,” you reiterated, “you’d be the player who hooked up with some reporter…And I’d be the slut who couldn’t keep it professional.”

You softened your voice, “I’ve worked too hard to let it all go to waste, Trent.”

“Sounds more like a societal issue than an us issue,” he shrugged, “and last I checked…two adults deciding to get a little physical isn’t exactly illegal.” His voice shifted to a low rasp, “But I can’t wrap my head around why you’re still here, because someone else in your current position wouldn’t still be here unless they’d started to change their mind.”

“God, you’re frustrating,” you muttered. Warm breath hit your lips, forcing you to realize how close he’d become. Your eyes watched as the remaining beads of sweat dripped slowly down his face. “I haven’t considered anything,” you lied.

“Then tell me to stop.”

Your conscience told you to say it; that stupid guilty conscience that you were admittedly fucking tired of. Normally, it would’ve forced you to rattle off all of the reasons you could’ve said it—why you should’ve—but it didn’t. Because every other part of you wanted the complete opposite. Every consequence seemed to evacuate your thoughts, with Trent conveniently replacing each one.

So you finally turned your mind off and let your body take control.

His lips roughly connected with yours and you didn’t protest. You were quickly pinned to the wall by his hips as his fingers untucked your shirt, hooking under the fabric and slipping it up and over your head, allowing it to hit the floor, and his lips hungrily returned to yours. He was too intoxicating to deny, and the feeling of his tongue as it rolled slowly over yours only solidified that fact.

You reached up and pried the baseball cap off his head, tossing it aside and running your hand through his hair, transferring the moisture from his curls to your fingers, beginning to dampen them. Your other hand slipped under the fabric of his shirt, peeling it from his upper body to reveal his toned physique underneath, which you’d only ever caught small glances of. And boy, did it not disappoint.

When his lips left yours, you whimpered at the loss of contact, but they soon returned to your skin, peppering it with kisses as he trailed a path from your shoulder up to your neck, spending extra time there. Your hands traveled to his bare back, palms resting on his shoulder blades as your head tilted to the side, granting him more access.

“We’re—fuck,” you panted, eyes screwed shut, “we’re screwed if someone hears us.”

“That’s why we’re not near the door,” he muttered, kissing up to your jawline. “And also why we’re going to have to be quiet. Sound good?”

You nodded softly, then felt his lips move to your throat, eyes fixated on him as he reached your collarbones. At his movement, your hands lifted and moved to the wall beside you, palms flattened against it. He continued the path downward and lowered himself to his knees. Soft lips could now be felt on your stomach, burning the skin in their path.

Fingers curled into the waistband of the leather skirt hugging your hips and swiftly removed it, with it the lacy material beneath. The cool air of the empty room hit your exposed skin, but you didn’t pay it any mind.

It was all too much when his hands pried your thighs open so he could slip between them.

His warm breath grazed the sensitive skin between your legs. You knew how close he was. Then you were proved right as he gently pressed a trail of kisses from the inside of your thigh up to the flesh between them. His tongue parted your folds, dragging itself up and down slowly, gathering your taste on it.

He let out a groan of approval when your hand darted out, fingers tangling in his hair as you pushed him closer. You wanted—no, needed more, especially when his mouth wrapped around your clit, sucking it gently as his calloused hands wrapped around your thighs, pulling you into him.

He lapped at you hungrily, building you up and forcing you to chase your release. He was no stranger to being between a girl’s legs. He could’ve gone hours with someone’s thighs wrapped around his head. But he never needed to.

And you were going to face the same fate.

“Shit,” you sighed weakly, running your fingers through his damp hair. Heavy breaths filled his ears, your voice breaking through and turning them into soft whimpers.

“Mm,” he hummed against your skin, and your hips slowly, painfully rolled, the grip on your thighs making it near impossible for you to move them enough to give yourself the relief you craved.

But he took this as a sign, holding you tighter as he delved his tongue into you, steadily moving it in and out as he brought you to your breaking point. The thrill of being at such a risk only fueled his fire. Trent always refused to pull away until a girl was properly satisfied. The payoff was as rewarding as ever to him. So why deny someone the pleasure that you were giving them? He never understood it.

Besides, he always got off on seeing a girl come undone so fast.

His name fell from your parted lips in a moan as he flattened his tongue against your clit, that being the final push over the edge. Expert flicks of his tongue worked your body through your release, prolonging the process, and he began to taste you on the tip of it. He collected every last bit, moaning softly in satisfaction as he swallowed.

Finally, he pulled away, pressing a final kiss to your skin before releasing his grip on your thighs and standing up slowly. The grin he donned as he straightened out burned a hole through any remainder of the facade that masked your weakness; the one that made you give in to him unwillingly, without as much as an afterthought. It was too late for regrets. And you didn’t particularly seem to have any.

He watched as your chest rose and fell with each heavy breath as your eyes seemingly fixated on his lips. His thumb came up and wiped the corner of his mouth, then moved in front of his lips for him to lick it clean.

“Keep staring, why don’t ya,” he teased, wrapping an arm around your waist.

“You’ve got some nerve saying that when I could just walk right out,” you quipped.

“Then do it,” he laughed, confidence lacing his expression. “Nobody’s stopping you,” he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. “But you’d be running quite the risk walking out of here with practically no clothes on, hm?”

“Yeah, as if that’s the only reason I’m not going anywhere,” you rolled your eyes, knowing full well what would happen if you were to waltz out of the room in the state you were in.

Luckily for you and him, there wasn’t a doubt in your mind that you’d be moving from your spot.

Weakened legs encircled his waist as he hoisted you up, and your arms wrapped around his neck. His hand reached between you and slid the thin fabric of his pants down just far enough to adjust himself. The other gripped the underside of your thigh, that and the wall supporting your weight as he held you up.

“You think anyone’s looking for us?” you muttered, the pads of your fingers dancing along the skin of his back.

“Probably,” he answered quietly as he lined himself up, and you started to feel the pressure between your legs. “But I don’t care.”

Then, he loosened his hold on you, sliding your body down the wall as he forcefully lowered you onto him. Your lips parted in momentary shock as he stretched your walls. The all-new sensation promptly clouded your vision. Crescent-shaped marks appeared on his skin when your nails dug into it. The size of his wide cock challenged that of any other man you had the unfortunate pleasure of fucking. They made you feel empty. But Trent filled you just right. He was almost too big.

Almost.

When you finally came to, your eyes darted toward his face, quickly meeting his in a forceful gaze. You tried to steady your breaths, but your body refused to allow it until you were fully adjusted to him. Instead, you elicited what sounded like whimpers. And of course, that only drove him more wild.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he groaned, brows knitting together as he pulled you up, adjusting you to be more firm in his grasp. “All that professionalism turn you into a prune or something?”

“Shut up,” you retorted, having a sharp intake of breath as he sunk you back down.

He laughed in response. “Mad that I’m right?”

“No,” you were quick to deny. “You’re just,” you hesitated, then cut yourself off sharply, “—just shut up.”

“Sure thing, Miss Reporter.”

That was enough verbal volleying for him and he pulled back, waiting a moment before pushing himself back in. The movement stifled you dead, practically severing your vocal cords as your head fell forward and your forehead promptly connected with his bare shoulder. He groaned in approval as your sensitive walls constricted around his length, his thrusts moving at a slow pace to allow your body to adjust.

Your previous release worked to lubricate the place you were joined, giving him leeway to pick up speed as he smoothly slid in and out, hitting places your mind couldn’t have possibly imagined he—or anyone—could. And Trent, on the flip side, was relishing in how perfectly you enveloped him; how fucking good the acute pressure felt each time he pumped his hips and buried himself to the hilt.

Desperately you clung to him, using some of the strength left in you to keep yourself stable, while the rest went toward forcing yourself into silence. But soon, there wasn’t enough to do both, and his shoulder wasn’t enough to prevent your moans from bouncing off the walls of the small space you inhabited. And if they weren’t taken care of soon, they’d bleed through the walls, and the exact fear that almost drove you out of the room in the first place would have become a reality.

So he whispered your name—piquing your attention enough to lift your head—and pushed his lips to yours, enveloping your mouth in a deep kiss that was enough to keep your noises at bay. At least, for the time being.

Rough palms pressed firmly into your thighs, a grip so firm that the fingers were likely to leave marks. But you didn’t seem to care, nor did you make an effort to stop it from happening. You’d be angry at it later. It wasn’t exactly a prominent worry in your mind while he sharply fucked into you, giving you as much as you could take.

And take him, you could.

His tongue slipped into your mouth and grazed your teeth as your hand snaked into his wet curls and fisted them, hard. He quickly removed his hands from your thighs and pressed them into the small of your back, arms pulling you impossibly closer as your legs tightened around his waist. The movement altered your position and shifted him inside of you, which forced him to hit your sweet spot, prying a moan from deep within your stomach.

It wasn’t often that a guy was rough with you, but he was. And whether you’d admit it or not, you liked it.

“Right—right there,” was all you could manage.

At your word, he sped up, cock burying itself as far into you as your bodies would allow, soft grunts leaving his mouth as he exhaled. With each thrust, his name fell from your lips in soft whimpers as if it were a prayer. And then, the culmination of his hands on you, the noises he made, and the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you as it craved its release brought you to yours.

The pleasure that washed over you as you came apart around him elicited a long, breathy moan from your throat. Once again, your vision was blackened, mind lost in a repeating loop of the only palpable thought it was able to conjure up, which was how incredible he felt from this angle, fucking you through it. And even when he brought his hand to your mouth to silence you, you allowed it without forethought.

Soon after, the pressure of you contracting around his length, paired with the sound of his name ringing in the form of your voice brought him to his breaking point. He shot into you, thoroughly coating your inner walls in a layer of hot, white liquid. You moaned weakly into his palm, taking him with a strength you would’ve been sure you didn’t have left in you. You maintained it for a few moments longer until his movements finally halted. He stilled inside and gently removed his hand from your mouth, a loud gasp filling his ears as you breathed air into your lungs.

The only sound occupying the small, dark room was that of heavy breaths, the walls absorbing the noise and preventing it from reaching the outside. Finally, Trent carefully pulled out and lowered you back to the ground, and you were grateful that his hands kept a loose hold on you for the support you knew you required.

His hands roamed your sides before finally removing themselves from your body. He pulled his pants back up to his waist and promptly adjusted himself, then bent down and picked up your discarded clothes, giving them back to you as he came back up. You thanked him quietly before stepping into the thin fabric, slipping it up your legs in unison with the leather skirt before returning the blouse to your body. Meanwhile, Trent grabbed his shirt and tugged it on, the taut fabric hugging his upper half as he moved back into your field of view.

“Hey,” he finally spoke up, prompting your head to tilt up in his direction. “You okay?”

“Mhm,” you hummed in response, arms folded as your hands rubbed them. “This…this was a one-time thing, Trent. To get it out of our systems.”

“I know,” he nodded, “but I don’t think it’s gonna stay that way.”

“Trent, if anyone ever—”

“I know,” he cut you off, lowering his voice to a near whisper as he stepped closer. “I know. But you can’t deny that it felt good to give in.”

Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip in contemplation as you considered his words, then exhaled deeply through your nose. “Yeah,” you dejectedly sighed.

His finger tilted your chin up. “Just think about it, ‘mk?”

You silently nodded and turned to the door, silently making your way over as he followed closely behind you. The air was tense. It had undoubtedly thickened since your bodies parted. You stopped in front of the door, the soft noise of his breathing distracting you. Knowing his proximity to you prevented you from opening the door just yet.

And before your head could catch up with your body, you turned around swiftly and kissed him.

“There’s not much to think about, anyway,” you muttered softly, bringing a hand to his chest and trailing it up to the back of his neck. Your fingers gently brushed the tips of his curls, thumb pressing lightly against his skin just below them. “I’ve already made my decision,” you quietly added.

“Yeah?”

To compartmentalize. Let your body decide what it wanted, regardless of the consequences.

And it wanted him.

#boston bruins #trent frederic #fanfic #trent frederic fic #boston bruins imagine #hockey #trent frederic imagine #hockey fic #trent frederic smut #trent frederic x reader

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darkbluekies · 2 years

Text

The cynical playhouse

yandere!doctor OC x GN reader x psychopatic!doctor

Summary: a mad doctor has decided to take you for his sick experiment and your very own yandere, Dr Kry, is not going to let this slide, he'll get his hands dirty to keep what's his.

Warnings: mental torture, physical torture, indication of masturbating, mad doctor, mentions of killing, death, mentions of graphic pictures and screams, nudity (not sexual), killing someone with a crowbar, yandere themes, chains, scalpel, cuts, blood, needles, drugs, gore

Word count: 3.2k

Day 0 — prologue

"I need someone that isn’t very strong minded, someone that will respond to the experiment.”

“The hospital is filled with vulnerable patients.”

“But they’re watched by so many nurses and their families are breathing down their necks. If anyone disappeared, people would notice … I need someone that no one would miss, you know?”

“There’s one actually … one that no one really knows anything about. Their family has never visited and none of the nurses have barely seen them. They could be interesting for your experiment.”

“Who?”

“Dr Kry’s little sweetheart.”

Day 1

You can hear someone whispering in the room. Lazily, you open your eyes to see who Dr Kry is hissing with. In the darkness of the room you can tell that there are two men, but you can’t tell who Dr Kry is. None of them resembles him. You know how his body looks and both of these men look too … old?

“Oh, they’re awake”, an unfamiliar voice chuckles lowly.

“Not for long.”

“What’s going on?” you mumble tiredly as you feel one of the men take your arm in his cold hand.

“Shh, just relax for me. It’ll just sting a little.”

The sharp pain from a needle causes your eyes to pry open and your heart to stop. Your eyes dart down to where the pain originates from and finds that the unfamiliar man is currently injecting you with some kind of substance.

“What are you doing?!” you gasp in pure terror.

“Shh”, the man with the needle says calmly and puts his finger over his mouth, a warning for you to quiet down. “You’ll soon go to sleep, don’t worry.”

You can start to feel how your body starts to go numb, how your eyes want to flutter shut. You fight against the substance, refusing to let your unconscious body fall in the hands of these two strange men.

“Don’t fight it”, the man with the needle says in a comforting yet taunting manner. “Just give in.”

“N-No ..”, you choke out.

Your vision starts to get more and more blurry until it all turns black.

You wake up with your head down on a table. Groggily, you sit up and look around. Quickly, you seem to sober up the second you realize that you’re not in your hospital room anymore. The room you’re in now is an empty, white room with a large mirror to your side. It takes up most of the wall. A security camera is watching you from the corner of the room. You look down at the table you were sleeping on and notice that your hands are cuffed to the white surface.

Your heart accelerates to 100km/h. It’s going to jump out of your chest at any moment.

“W-What’s going on?!” you shout and look around in despair. “Hello?!”

“Don’t panic, my dear”, the voice who told you to give in to the substance says through the speaker under the security camera. “Calm down and listen to me, okay?”

“W-Where am I?”

“You’re in my little … playhouse. We’re going to have a lot of fun here, you and I.”

You shake your head as tears start to form in your eyes. You don’t want to know what his kind of fun is. Panic starts burning in your chest.

“Please let me go”, you start to sob.

“Don’t cry. I only need you for a little while.”

“A-And then what? Will I get to go home?”

“Home? Gosh no! You’d go straight to the police and expose all the fun we had here! My funhouse is exclusive. I can’t let just anyone participate!”

“I don’t want to participate!”

“But you’re here now. I can’t let you go. I can tell you what I’m going to do with you, though. I’m going to test the human’s brain and you’re going to help me. If everything goes well, I’ll get famous!”

You wish that you could wipe your runny nose, but your hands are chained with heavy chains and you’re in no physical state to lift them.

Day 2

Nothing really happened yesterday. You were left alone in the white room. A sound was coming from the loudspeaker. The sound of flies flying around. In the beginning, you tried to find something of a rhythm in it to create somewhat of a melody, but quickly started getting annoyed at the buzz. You had shouted to turn it off and only heard a giggle in the loudspeaker in return. You don’t know how long time had passed, but you’re sure you had to sit and listen to that sound for at last four hours.

Today, however, the man has decided to step it up a notch. The door opens and he walks in with a TV on a rolling table. You refuse to look at him. The TV turns on and you’re forced to see a slideshow of the most grotesque pictures taken at crime scenes — some by the cops and some by the killers themselves. Over the pictures, a distorted melody with occasional screams can be heard. You don’t doubt that the screams are real. This one breaks you down easier than the buzzing you heard yesterday. Even if you look away, you can still hear the sound. You can’t lift up your hands to cover your ears.

“Make it stop!” you plead and feel the tears burn behind your eyelids. “Please!”

No response.

“P-Please, I-I’ll do anything”, you sob, your whole body shaking along. “I’ll do … do anything … please.”

“You were cuter than I thought”, the voice in the loudspeaker says. “So fragile. I get why Dr Kry wants you.”

“Dr Kry? I-Is he involved in this?!”

“No, he’s not. Your little doctor is actually looking for you. I heard that he destroyed a trash can in anger and looked at the security footage yesterday.”

You look up at the security camera.

“Oh, don’t bother”, the voice says. “This camera leads to my own little private collection. I want to save my playtimes so I can rewatch them once you’re dead.”

You sob again.

“Look up, Y/N”, the man says, “and turn your head to your right.”

You do. The only thing you can see is your own image. Your red eyes, the messy hair, your body in the hospital gown and your hands chained to the table. You look horrible.

“That’s right”; the man sighs out in satisfaction — almost a moan. “Looking so ... so fragile. Fuck."

You look down in the realization that this is a one way mirror. He's sitting on the other side of the glass, currently getting off on your fear. You've never felt so exposed before. You can only imagine what he'll do with the footage later on. Shame creeps up on you. Embarrassed to be treated like this, ashamed that you can't do anything to stop it. You're only a pawn in his manic game.

Dr Kry has been running around looking for you for over twenty four hours now. He hasn't rested once, hasn’t eaten once either. The only thing he’s nourished himself with is energy drinks and coffee, but that’s only to keep up his energy so he can look for you. The very thought about sitting down and eating makes him sick. How can he? You're his will to live! If he can't find you … no, he doesn't want to think about that. He is going to find you. He has to.

Yesterday when he walked into your room and found that you weren’t there, he had freaked out. First, the thought that you had snuck down to the cafeteria. Firstly, he had gotten annoyed. Like, hasn’t he made it clear to you not to leave his room without him by your side? He promised himself that he would punish you if he found you munching on a sandwich down at the cafeteria. He’s had to punish you a few times for sneaking out or talking with other patients and doctors and it hurts him so much every time. He doesn’t blame you, never does. You’re a little sweetheart, it's other peoples’ bad influence that makes you act badly. But that’s why Dr Kry is here. He’ll always make sure you never get in trouble.

He couldn’t figure out for the life of him who could have made you sneak out, but he promised himself to make sure they never talk to you again. To his disappointment, the cafeteria was empty. Somehow, he was happy that you weren’t here, it meant that you didn’t betray his trust by walking down here … but he’s disappointed because that meant that you could be anywhere in this large building. Or even outside in the harsh, cruel world. He had asked people if they’d seen you, but he got two answers — both disappointing. They’d either not seen you … or they didn’t know who you are. Dr Kry kicked a trash can on his way to the security room. On the way, he met one of the doctor assistants he never talks to. The man avoided his gaze and switched corridors the second they walked past each other. He watched the security footage … but it was all deleted. There was nothing to see. You were nowhere to be seen!

Dr Kry has been all over the town in search of you. He's been to your parents house (without them noticing), to your friends houses (you’ve only told him about them once, but he remembers so well) and all the possible places you could hide — such as coffee shops and parks. You’re nowhere to be found.

He sinks down in his seat in the car and hides his face into his hands. Where are you? He doesn’t believe that you’ve hid from him anymore. You wouldn’t last this long. If you wanted to give him a scare, you’d hide for an hour or so and then pop out to scare him … you wouldn’t do this. Someone must have taken you.

It hits him. Someone must have seen you. You can’t just have disappeared like that. He thinks harder, enough to make his brain creak. There was no footage from the security cameras from the night you disappeared from the period of two am to three am. Someone must have deleted it.

That assistant. The one he passed by yesterday. It must have been him.

Day 3

“Today, my little doll, we’ll see how your brain reacts to physical pain!”

You don’t answer. Three days have passed and you’ve already lost all hope. Not a single bite of food have you been granted and not a single drop of water. If you don’t get to drink today you’ll die. Somehow you hope that the freak behind the one sided mirror won’t give you any water. You just want to get out of here and if the only way is death … then so be it. You feel like you’re a ghost. None of this is really real, you’re not actually sitting in the chair, your hands aren’t actually chained. You’re just dreaming. You’re not here. You’re not here. You’re not here.

The door opens and the man enters. You can’t look at him, he makes your stomach turn.

“Before we start, I remembered that you need to have something yummy to eat”, he says as if he was talking to a doll or a child. “I brought you mashed potatoes.”

“I don’t want it”, you mumble.

“Open up.”

He holds the spoon with mashed potatoes to your mouth. You keeps your lips together and turn your head away. The man pokes your cheek with the spoon, growing more and more impatient.

“Eat. It.”

You gather enough courage to shake your head.

“Ungrateful little bitch!” he shouts and flips the table over.

You choke back a scream and break out in sobs, squeezing your eyes shut. Your entire body is shaking with terrified sobs. He slaps you with all his might causing your head to swing to the side. Your body would follow if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re chained to the table. You sob more at the fear of this madman than the stinging pain.

“If you don’t behave, I’ll have to finish up our playtime earlier than I want to”, the man whispers and grabs your face between his cold, disgusting hands. “And I want to play with you for a bit more.”

You glare at him through your tears. He picks up a scalpel from his white lab coat and places it over your bare arm. You shake your head desperately, voice no longer working.

“It’s just a test, my little doll”, he whispers. “Everything is for human kind, okay?”

“No!” you manage to shout. “I don’t want it, stop it!”

Too late. He has let the sharp knife-like object over your arm. You let out a loud scream which echoes in the room and makes the man smile.

“So beautiful”, he purrs and lets the bloody scalpel run lazily over your lips. “My own little doll ... I’m going to fucking destroy you.”

The door bursts open and before you can register anything, the man in front of you has been tackled to the floor and beaten to a pulp. You recognize the blonde hair and break out into relieved sobs. The man stands up, blood covering his white lab coat.

“Shh, it’s okay”, he pants as he unlocks your chains. “Don’t cry, I’m here now.”

As soon as your hands are free, you wrap them around his strong neck and bury your head into his shoulder. Dr Kry hates to see the cuts on your body and he hates to feel how you tremble in his arms. He lifts you up and you hook your legs around his waist. With one muscular arm around your waist and one around your shoulders, he carries you out of this horrifying room. A few guards run past him to get the unconscious man.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N”, Dr Kry whispers with tears in his throat as he walks. “I’m so, so sorry. I shouldn’t have left your door unlocked. I’ll never forgive myself. I’ll kill him, I promise. I’ll make sure he never hurts you again. I’ll take care of you better, never let you out of my sight.”

You cry against his shoulder as he takes you back to your room. You cling onto him even tighter. He’s your knight in shining armor, he saved you! You’ll always be in debt to him. Fantastic Dr Kry.

Dr Kry places you down on your bed and starts to look and feel around, to see if you’re really here or if he’s hallucinating. He hasn’t been sleeping for a long time.

“You need to wash yourself”, he says. “You look horrible. I can do it for you.”

You nod. Dr Kry picks you up again and walks into the bathroom. You get placed in the tub before he removes the dirty hospital gown. He’ll burn it — never want to see it again. You sit in the bathtub and hug your legs close to your naked body to hide, wishing to never exist again. Dry Kry wishes that you didn’t hide, you’re so beautiful. He shakes his head. Now’s not the time. He feels the water pouring from the showerhead with one hand as he adjusts the water with the other.

“Bend your head back for me”, he says softly. “I don’t want to pour water into your eyes.”

You bend your head back and he starts to pour the lukewarm water over your hair.

“Is it comfortable?” he asks.

You nod carefully, scared of every single action.

“How did you find me?” you whisper.

“I found the guy that helped your sick capturer. I pulled him into a storage room and forced him to tell me where you were”, Dr Kry says, hatred in his voice.

He won’t say what he threatened the assistant with, but you can only imagine.

“I came just in time”, Dr Kry says. “He was going to hurt you badly, that son of a bitch. I’ll make sure he pays for it, my- …” He cuts himself off, almost giving you a pet name. He clears his throat, embarrassed. “I’ll make him pay.”

“What were you going to say?” you ask quietly.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

You give him the sweetest doe eyes that makes him melt and he can’t do anything else but tell you.

“I was going to call you ‘my little one’”, he says with a shy smile and runs his free hand through your wet hair, the other one continuing to pour water on your scalp.

“I like that”, you whisper and look down.

Dr Kry smiles in relief. God, you’re so fucking cute.

“You are my little one”, he says softly. “My only little one.”

He melts at the sight of your small smile. He’ll never let anyone steal that smile from you again. He’ll never let anyone take you from him again.

“Doctor …”, you whisper weakly as he shampoos your hair.

“Yeah?”

“Please never leave me. He scared me so badly.”

“Never. I’ll always protect you. I’ll lock your door at night and be much, much more careful. I’ll make sure he disappears, okay?”

You nod tiredly. Dr Kry sighs and leans forward to press a promising kiss to your forehead.

After he’s bathed you, he gives you a new hospital gown and tucks you into your bed. You hug the teddy bear and sniffle. Dr Kry glances down at the bruises around your wrists and gets filled with anger once again. He’s going to kill that psychopath. How dare he touch his darling?

As soon as you fall asleep, Dr Kry leaves the room, locking the door behind him. He feels the handle to make sure that it's locked before scurrying away to the security room. He turns off the cameras and grabs a crowbar on his way. This motherfucker is going to die. Normally, Dr Kry doesn't like getting his hands dirty, but this time he's looking forward to it.

He opens the door to the jail cell. The man is sitting on the bench inside with his head in his hands. He looks up and his eyes widen.

"D-Dr Kry, listen, man-", he starts, trembling.

"Quiet", Dr Kry growls. "I don't want to hear a single word from you. I'm going to kill you."

"Y-You can't, the cameras-"

"Your little friend isn't the only one who can manipulate cameras." Dr Kry swings the crowbar around his hand. "No one will know who killed you and I don't think anyone will care either. You're mine to play with now."

The man goes white.

"I'm going to play with you like you played with my darling", Dr Kry says in a warning calmness and takes a step forward. "I'm going to give back for everything you did to them."

"I'll never touch them again, I promise!"

"You bet you won't. They're mine, do you hear that? Only mine. The fact that you thought you had the audacity to touch them is enough for me to kill you. But after what you've done … I'm going to make you suffer." Dr Kry towers over the trembling man. "I'm going to beat you so badly that you can't move, can't think, can't breathe. The dying part will be done by yourself."

"N-No please, I'm sorry!"

Dr Kry swings his crowbar. "Too late."

He closes the door behind him.

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loaksky · 1 year

Note

hello! would you consider writing modern avatar stuff? if ur cool w that can i request modern human neteyam relationship headcanons?

wait hold the phone yes i would actually ! wanted to hold off on posting this to include headcanons about what modern!neteyam would be like in a relationship, but i’m so eager to come back ! instead here’s some background about him & reader leading up to the relationship (part 2 pending if you guys want it) ! headcanons under the cut & for all intents + purposes, i picture college-neteyam ! additionally, in my brain, it’s canon that teyam as a human would be poc, hence the reference pictures i included below ! <3

so i definitely see neteyam having a very soft aesthetic, he’s such a sweetheart tbh

fs think that the two of you would have a meetcute in university & then end up being college sweethearts

his major is something specific like environmental engineering or child psychology ? he’s definitely really smart and excels in all of his classes !

which brings me to how the two of you would meet ? perhaps he’s taking an elective course in pottery and your major is in art with a concentration in three dimensional composition

the class is considered a lab, so the professor emails out the syllabus and students come and go as they please during class hours to work on their compositions.

halfway thru the sem, you and teyam stumble upon each other in the storage room between two classrooms, fetching different pieces that need to be glazed + fired.

“sorry, you can—”

“nah, you first—”

you laugh and neteyam’s smiling because WOW you’re really cute + had he known that someone as lovely as you was in the same section as him, he’d probably hang around the classroom more.

from that moment on, neteyam’s always lingering during the class’ meeting time, even if he’s already finished with his projects for the week because he wants to get to know you SO bad, but he’s way too shy.

(probably still canon that he’s phenomenal at literally everything, but i think it’d be so cute if he had 0 legitimate rizz bc he’s so used to kinda just bein’ him and pulling bc he’s a jack of all trades type of guy)

“what are you making?” you ask him one day and he snatches his airpod out of his ear so quickly even though he’s not listening to anything.

“ashtray” he answers quietly, a lil self-conscious because he’s come to find out that you’re absolutely amazing at sculpting and while you do this for your future, he does it is as a pastime / elective to graduate. “but like i don’t smoke or anything yknow, i just thought that i’d be a good thing to–”

you’re staring at him with the corner of your mouth quirked and he shuts up quickly, scratching the back of his neck nervously as he slumps on his stool.

“you should score using a crosshatch,” you tell him simply. “makes the pieces stick together better.”

he looks down at where he’d been scratching the damp clay laterally and your hands hover over his, head tilting to the side.

“can i?”

oh yeah, yeah! sure,” he splutters, leaning back a little to watch you work your magic.

can’t help but watch the way your fingers work over the clay, knuckles smudged with glaze and dust coating the silver of your rings.

he watches your hands, but soon he’s watching your face because you’re concentrated so hard on making sure you’re using your best technique for the little ashtray.

lo and behold, the pieces stick together so perfectly and smoothly, ready to be fired in the kiln, and neteyam’s grateful.

“thanks,” he sighs almost dreamily.

“yeah, of course. glad to help,” you tell him.

when you return to your own project, you slam back the rest of your melting drink and neteyam’s eyes are squinting the get a read on what it is you order.

you’re pleasantly surprised when you turn up to pottery the next session to work on a new project, and neteyam’s there with two coffees, one next to his wheel, another near yours.

“what’s this?” you hum, tying your apron with a messy bow.

“a thank you,” he says shyly. “for helping me last time.”

your eyes widen when you see your favorite; a chai with almondmilk, vanilla, and a shot of espresso.

“how’d you…”

“it’s what you were drinking…” he responds. “last week. i think.

“oh…” you trail off, cheeks hot because he noticed ???

“you don’t have to—”

“NO!” you yelp, a tad loud. some of the other students working on a few last minute projects peer at the two of you and teyam’s grinning like an idiot when he sees the way you tuck your hair behind your ear and reach for the drink. “this is good! it’s great. thank you so much. i actually missed my run this morning.”

“yeah, of course,” he sighs, rolling his lips together as the two of you kinda get off to a clunky start.

the silence between the two of you is a lil awkward, but you decide to break the ice since teyam’s technically played his hand and the ball’s in your court.

“are you an art major ?” you ask.

“uh, nah,” he'd say, rubbing his sweaty palms on the thighs of his baggy jeans because HE SHOWED UP TO CLASS 15 MINUTES EARLY and the agony of not knowing if you’d show up made him so nervous. “environmental engineering.”

your eyebrows raise ever so slightly, lips forming an ‘o’ bc wow that must mean he’s super smart.

“wow, that’s insane,” you say quietly. “what made you take pottery ?”

“only elective that didn’t make me wanna claw my eyes out,” he laughs nervously. “what about you ? what’s your major ?”

you seem to mull over your thoughts for a moment, obviously a little hesitant to answer.

“3d art...nothing special...” you trail off.

neteyam begins working with the slab of clay waiting for him in the center of the wheel, cheeks going hot because the words leave him before he can stop them.

“no, no. i think that’s really cool. art is a really challenging passion to have & i admire people willing to dive in full stop.”

the comment makes you smile, fingers pliant over the wet clay.

neteyam wants to DIE because he can’t read whether or not your smile is genuine or if you’re grimacing because he’s the biggest idiot ever.

he supposes it’s the former when you two are parting ways, signing the attendance log and you decide to bite the bullet and write your instagram handle on the bottom corner of the page and tear it off to hand to him.

he’s barely able to get a ‘thank you’ out before you’re racing out the door with your gifted coffee in hand.

you’re so giddy when you run out of the building and your phone pings in the front pocket of your satchel and you see that teyam.sully has followed you.

after that day, you two become really friendly !

neteyam frequently dms you about class, but eventually, he starts sending you vids and memes, saying that they made him think of you.

it becomes so obvious to both of your friend groups that you’re crushing on each other, but both of you are too painfully shy to say anything despite every green flag.

soon, looking forward to seeing each other during class turns into neteyam subtly asking you to hang out.

you make a comment about one of his hoodies and he mentions that he thrifted it.

“wait really??” you’re pausing your work to look at him. “i love thrifting!”

he smiles wide, word vomiting before he can stop himself.

“yeah? i know a couple of good places if you’re down.”

you say yes, DUH !

looking back at it, maybe that’s your first date because he picks you up from your dorm & bc you guys live in a fairly walkable city, you commute to the thrift and you’re SO giddy because the backs of your hands keep brushing every time some impatient pedestrian pushes by you guys on the narrow sidewalks.

you guys end up spending HOURS and teyam’s internally screaming because you find a shirt that has a peeling heart with the phrase ‘if lost return to wife’ and he happens upon the match to it a couple aisles down that says ‘i'm the wife’.

when you’re not looking, teyam buys the shirts and stuffs them in his canvas bag.

DUDE IS WHIPPED.

he wants you SO bad.

after the thrift, you guys get pizza, and after that, ice cream, and JESUS he doesn’t want the day to end because being with you is so easy.

over the course of the rest of the semester, the two of you make it a routine to hang out at least once a week and you’re always looking forward to it.

dates excursions include; trips to the museum to see recent exhibits, weekly pizza parlor dinners, study sessions at the 24 hr cafe a block from the school (in which he always walks you home after), park days where he reads books on environmental sustainability and you secretly draw portraits of him.

in these times, he learns that you want to become an art teacher, your favorite cereal is froot loops with the marshmallows, your all time show is amazing world of gumball.

almost cries laughing when he finds out that you have a secret pet turtle you hide in your dorm named franklin.

acknowledges that he’s falling, but falls even harder when the florist who owns the flower shop you two always pass hands you the prettiest little bundle of flowers and you spend the entire trek to the park, handing out individual stems to couples, children, and the elderly, telling them to have a beautiful day.

it all comes to a head near the end of the semester when he realizes that he can’t keep dancing around his feelings for you and the feelings he’s almost certain you have for him.

tells you to clear your schedule for the upcoming friday night and dresses a little nicer than usual when he picks you up.

brings you two to the planetarium in the city and, instead of watching the exhibit, he spends the entire time watching how you light up.

he knows in his gut that you could be it for him.

he’s loved getting to know you and spending so much time with you.

he’s so immersed in this feeling throughout the entire night.

probably wipes his sweaty palms over the thighs of his pants before shakily taking your hand as the diagram of the constellations shift.

can’t help but smile when your fingers squeeze his and you seem to shift closer to him as the narrator starts the presentation.

and he’s especially quiet after the exhibit, fingers still twined with yours as the two of you walk down the bustling sidewalks of the city center.

two of you probably stop by a dessert cafe and sit outside on a bench in the spring air, enjoying the buskers as you share a little cake.

you’re talking about home and how you’re excited to see your family again and he can’t help but imagine bringing you home to meet all his siblings and his parents because he knows that they’d absolutely love you and—

you’ve paused your speaking, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth and he’s SHORT CIRCUITING.

“shit, that was weird i’m so—”

his palm cups your jaw, thumb on your cheek, pad of his pinky and ring finger soft against your neck.

“can i?” he whispers.

TRIANGLE METHOD !!

he glances at one eye, gaze dropping to your lips before glancing at the other.

you already know what he’s referring to, could feel the romantic tension between the two of you since the beginning, but only become sure of it in the recent weeks.

”can you what?” you swallow.

he breathes a short laugh because the knowing smile that quirks your lips is a dead give away.

“can i kiss you?” he asks softly, absently setting your abandoned dessert somewhere behind him on the bench.

“yeah,” you’d nod, leaning into him. “please.”

before the two of you go your separate ways for summer holiday, he shows you the shirts he bought at the thrift store the first time around, but insists on keeping the shirt that says ‘i'm the wife’.

#avatar nuggets ˘³˘#neteyam x reader #neteyam headcanons #neteyam fluff #neteyam #neteyam sully #avatar the way of water #atwow #avatar the movie

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red-water-dragon · 27 days

Text

Raren demonstrating a suspicious spell in front of the royal court.

visual storytelling notes:

The bg was left blank until I started painting and the elements added to the bg were designed around the character. I didn't go into this with a little synopsis of what I wanted to convey. Only an abstract idea that Raren was going to be talking to someone, figure it out later. I decided he'd be presenting a new spell in front of a political chamber because he wears a crown and a blue crystal. So he has to be of some form of nobility and magical prowess. He also has blue eyes meaning he is an ice dragon and thus its a blue spell wow. The monarchs he's addressing are left dark and disapproving in the corner while Raren powers a statue beneath them. He could be demonstrating how the spell effects the world around them, maybe it freezes the stone? maybe it brings the statue to life? Either way its primed to eat Raren's opposition. Two of the bg guys are red one is blue maybe he's an arch nemesis who knows.

Art process and wips under the cut

I'm trying and failing to get better at visual story telling while keeping things simple. My long term goal is to have a frequent and consistent posting schedule. Most of the art would be stylized and simple like this and the rest could be fully rendered.

Art has been more of a "draw what's in you head and make it look pretty/ cool to hang up later" thing to me w/ the benefit of being a good source of self reflection as I create. Writing has more so been my go to for expressing that meditation. Writing I don't share because im unnecessarily cagy abt my emotions and my harshest critic lol. I want to tell stories with my art , convey tone, feeling, etc. and right now my paintings don't do that. I don't have the technical skill yet. This painting is the first of many to come that will hopefully change this.

The texture in this is chaotic and the line work is rough. Raren is the only part of this with a full sketch. All other line art was added to create the illusion of detail. There is less attention on rendering each section and more being put into the placement of characters and props. I had hoped this would make the painting go faster and...it has the potential to do so in the future. Sooo a piece that could have taken a couple hours took a whole day.

While im not overly thrilled with the final image im still happy about the process. Normally the dragon would be the only real focal point in my painting with the bg being a gradient, or a simple theme added last second. Conveying a message is more work but it gives more cool things for the eye to look at and the mind to ponder. So in theory even if the final result is aesthetically unappealing the theme can still salvage the work a bit.

what this taught me:

sketchy line work is passable in the final image

it can even add character to the art

plants are a great way of filling space without actually doing so

(hence the wip of the room looking empty af with out them)

the more clothing and eye candy you put on your character the more clutter you have to add to the bg to balance it out

the main oc was sketched the bg was painted on the fly

doing so saved time but harmed the natural flow of the piece

all of the storytelling is happening in quarters and it is almost abrasive to look at

what ill try in the next piece:

perspective guides

less shading and rendering

find a color palette to stick to

or work in greyscale first

write a little picture synopsis

or pick a theme

just find something that acts as a story guide

sketch out bg elements

toy around with the sketch more before moving to painting

#flight rising #artists on tumblr #fantasy #digital art #oc #flight rising art #imperial dragon #my art #photoshop #dragon #dragon art

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readyforthegarden · 4 months

Text

Season of the Witch - Part Three

Masterlist

Pairing: Sam Kiszka x F!Reader, Danny Wagner x F!Reader

Synopsis: Danny always told you, you shouldn't play with things you don't fully understand. When trying your hand at magic, you accidentally summon something more than you bargained for. Now stuck, you try to find a way to rid yourself of him, but what if the only way of ridding yourself of him is dying?

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of witchcraft, angst, 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!

WC: 3417

The afternoon and evening had been interesting to say the least. Once you’d arrived back to your apartment, Samuel took it upon himself to roam around the small layout. He seemed particularly keen to study your bookshelf, gingerly touching the spines of the books there as he glanced at them. Not knowing what to do with yourself, you plopped onto your couch, watching him as he moved about.

The way he moved was interesting. Sam didn’t walk, his limbs moved too fluidly to count it as walking. Instead he glided, damn near floated as he made his way through your belongings. Had you had the same body height and wingspan he did, you’d have been a bull in a china shop, constantly knocking things over, tripping over your own feet. Yet Sam maneuvered himself with an otherworldly grace, something that couldn’t be taught or learned.

“Who is this?” snapping you out of your thoughts, Sam tapped the glass on a picture frame that rested on your bookshelf. He recognized a slightly younger version of yourself, though the wide, happy grin on your face was unfamiliar to him at this point in your…whatever this was.

You stood up, moving over to where he stood and lifting the photo. Next to you, arm slung around your shoulders, was your mother. Her smile was just as big, if not more captivating. You recalled the memory of the day, and suddenly the words were spilling from your mouth.

“That’s my mom,” you smiled softly, though you felt your stomach twist slightly. “This was a few years ago, we took a trip to this gorgeous little cabin, it was surrounded by lilacs, and we had booked just at the right time. They were all blooming. We kept the windows open all day and night just inhaling the scent. It was so beautiful.” you felt your smile fall as you remembered what followed that trip, and set the photo back on the shelf.

“Is it not a happy memory?” Sam’s dark eyes were locked on you, studying you.

“It is,” you avoided his gaze best you could, shoving your hands into the front pockets of your pants. “One of my favorites.”

“Then why-“

“She’s gone.” you cut him off. Ripping the bandaid off the wound, still raw and irritated from your own refusal to deal with it. “She passed away a year ago.” Sam stiffened, straightening up as he glanced over at the photo.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. After a few moments of silence, he spoke again. You assumed it would be a half assed condolence, and in a way it was, though it didn’t feel as empty as you thought it would. “She was very beautiful…you look a lot like her.” You didn’t reply, just gazed at the light reflecting off the red satin that adorned his legs.

“We should get you some clothes, since you’ll be hanging around for a while.” you turned, glad you kept your shoes on for the few minutes you were home. Grabbing your bag from your spot on the couch, you slung the strap over your shoulder. Sam stayed in place at the bookshelf, and you turned, cocking an eyebrow at him. “Are you coming with, or are you trusting me to pick out your clothes?”

“I’m coming,” he moved to follow you, once again taking up residence in your passenger seat. The air was heavy in the car, more so than it had been earlier when you’d been on your way to find a way to get rid of him.

“How did she die?” Sam broke the tension. You glanced at him out of the corner of your eyes, heat prickling your neck at his audacity.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” you shook your head, flicking up the turn signal and checking traffic to pull onto another street.

“Where’s your dad?” Sam, instead of dropping the subject, decided to change the question.

“Sam,” a soft warning.

“Do you have any brothers? Sisters?”

“Sam!” You nearly slammed the brakes at a red light, the force tossing both your bodies forward as much as it could with your seatbelts, anything to stop his prying. “I told you I don’t want to talk about it.” Sam stared at you.

“Death is a natural part of life. You shouldn’t shy away from it.” Sam sniffed. You rolled your eyes so hard you swore you got a headache from it.

“I live with it every hour of every day.” you replied lowly. “Now drop it.”

“Fine,” it was as if the conversation was nothing to him, simply asking about a change in the weather pattern as opposed to your family history.

“Good…will?” Sam stared at the sign above the store as you parked, one of few cars in the shopping plaza mid-day.

“Yes,” was all you replied, turning your ignition off. You didn’t wait for him as you exited the car and began walking to the store. You knew already in the few short hours he’d been around, he would never let you get too far without him.

The fluorescent lights of the store almost immediately stung your eyes, the slightly musty smell invading your nostrils. You found yourself drawn to a small display of old holiday decor, Halloween mixed in with Valentine’s Day and Christmas.

“You expect me to find suitable clothing here?” Sam’s voice was full of distaste as you turned to entertain his complaint. His brows were knit together as he glanced at the racks of clothing behind him.

“Yes,” you replied flatly, lowering your voice to a near-hiss. “I wasn’t exactly rich before you showed up, but I especially don’t have money to go buy you any fancy clothes. This is what I can afford, got it?” Sam locked eyes with you momentarily before sighing, muttering to himself as he moved toward a rack.

Surprisingly, Sam kept his mouth shut as he thumbed through the clothing, though his face couldn’t hold back from expressing his innermost thoughts. Only a few items piqued his interest, draping them over his arm while you browsed around the books and movies, debating if you could spare the three dollars on the dvd of a movie you hadn’t seen in a long time, but weren’t sure you wanted to purchase fully.

“These are satisfactory.” he cleared his throat. You nodded, setting the movie on the rack before heading over to the checkout, watching the young girl ogle Sam, who was more intrigued by the bright feathery novelty pen sitting in her pen cup. Once the transaction was complete, she practically shoved the bag into your arms as she stared at him, Sam finally noticing and grinning.

“Have a good day,” he pressed a hand to your back as he bid the swooning girl goodbye, the only other acknowledgement he gave her as he ushered you out of the store. Sam took the bag from your arms, holding it lazily in one hand, keeping his palm flat against your spine. Down the shopping plaza there was a dollar store, and guided him into it, gesturing to the toiletries. Sam picked apart every soap scent and every toothpaste, particularly having an internal struggle on if he was going to prefer mint or cinnamon toothpaste.

He tossed the latter in with the rest of his things, perusing the deodorants and body sprays, scrunching his nose at the pungent scents.

“Don’t get that one,” you stopped him from reaching for a can with a buck on it. “It smells rancid.” Sam took note of your advice, moving down the row a bit. He reached out again, and you spoke up. “That one will make you smell like you drowned in a vat of sandalwood after one spritz.”

“A connoisseur of gentlemen’s cologones?” Sam asked, only slightly mocking.

“I’d rather not have my home smell like a teenage boy trying to cover his BO, thank you.” you replied back. This seemed to put a dent in the sarcastic armor he wore, his attitude towards the sprays less than enthusiastic now. The two of you continued shopping for a short while longer before he took the basket from your arm and hooked it on his own, heading toward the register.

His demeanor stayed sour from your jab all the way home, where he took the bags from the dollar store and breezed past you, entering the bathroom and proceeding to lock himself in. The bag of clothes from the charity shop was in your hands, and you decided to start a load of laundry, tossing them in along with your clothes. The shower was running in the bathroom as you passed it with your basket, and you could feel the humid air from the hot water start to seep from the cracks around the door, prickling your skin.

When you came back from the communal laundry room, you stood in the center of your apartment. You weren’t sure exactly what to do with yourself again. It felt callous to turn on the TV and start watching something. But, what else was there for you to do? You plopped down on the couch, grabbing the remote and turning on the television. The picture was crystal clear, almost better in fact, like it had never laid shattered on the floor of your living room. You flipped through the channels, settling on an old slapstick comedy to keep your attention.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been watching the screen, not really taking in the film but letting your mind wander, wondering if Danny or his contacts could figure out a way out of your situation. You were startled by Sam, clearing his throat as he stood at the arm of the couch. He looked…positively normal. A pair of deep, navy blue pajama pants adorned his legs, a gray t-shirt covered his torso. His long hair was damp, and you decided to ignore the whiff you caught of your leave-in conditioner floating from it.

“Your shower has very good water pressure.” he complimented. You nodded in agreement.

“That’s why I pay more than the place is worth every month.” you half-heartedly joked. The corner of Sam’s lip twitched, though there was no smile. Instead he took himself over to your kitchen, opening the fridge and bending in half at the waist to peer in. You watched him rummage the meager contents until he pulled out a half-full container of cherry tomatoes that had been on the brink of wrinkling, and the jar of minced garlic you always had on hand.

Getting up, you moved towards the kitchen, watching him as he helped himself to your cupboards, finding your pots and pans and cutting board. He opened the drawer you had stashed the large kitchen knife in, a soft smirk flickering at the corner of his mouth as he gripped the handle.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m cooking us a meal,” Sam replied nonchalantly, dumping out the tub of tomatoes and setting to work on slicing them in half. “I forgot how fast human bodies burn through energy.”

“Is-is this your first human body?” your voice was quiet, a nervous tremble on your lips as you asked. Sam’s lips spread into a sly smile as he glanced up at you from his task.

“Yes, but this isn’t the first time I’ve been human in it.” you could almost feel the laugh he held back as your confusion. “This is the form I enter your realm in. It always has been.”

“Do you come here often?”

“Only when I’m summoned,”

“How often is that?”

“You have a lot of questions, you know that?”

“You have a lot of vague un-answers.” your reply made him snort, setting down the knife before scooping up the halved tomatoes in his large hands, letting them fall into the saucepan with some olive oil.

“I have answered a call or two in my lifetime.” he replied, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Were you bound to those people too?”

“No,” Sam shook his head. “Those people used the right ritual.” A cherry tomato half soared the small space between the two of you, thumping onto his shoulder and leaving a dark mark on his shirt. “Hey!”

He continued to move about the kitchen, adding salt and pepper to the cooking down tomatoes, a sauce beginning to simmer. The garlic and onion he added filled the apartment with a fragrance that made your stomach rumble. Wordlessly, you grabbed the pot from the stove and moved to the sink, filling it with water. Moving back to the stove in the small space, you reached for the knob to turn the burner on, when Sam’s hand stopped you.

“What?”

“Light it,” Sam nodded to the burner. You gave him an incredulous look.

“That’s what I’m trying to do.” your tone was snotty, but Sam ignored it.

“Not like that, with your power.”

“What power?” you huffed, trying to reach for the knob again. Sam stopped you again.

“You lit something on fire this morning, you can do it again,” he urged.

“Sam, I told you, it was a trick of the light.” you insisted, pulling back your hand. He stared at you, almost blankly until his eyes scanned you, and with a nod he turned back to the stove, stirring around the thin sauce, adding seasonings he’d taken from the small spice rack on your counter.

“My little fawn, you may be able to lie to yourself but I know what I saw.” Sam gave you a look from the corner of his eyes before briefly gesturing to the stove, flames rising under the pot. You let the silence settle between you both for a moment, the only sound was the wooden spoon scraping gently against the bottom of the pan, sauce simmering around it.

You had moved to grab a package of noodles from a cupboard, opening it as the water in the pot began to boil. Sam was turned, the spoon he was stirring with raised, one of his hands underneath to catch any spilled droplets. He said nothing, merely gestured towards you with the utensil. Against your better judgment, you leaned forward, letting your lips meet the edge of the spoon. The sauce was delicious, for how few ingredients you had available. It was rich, the basil and oregano he had added warming your tongue.

“It’s good,” was all you said, licking your lips as Sam smirked knowingly. You finished the task you had started, dropping the noodles into the large pot, grabbing another large spoon and stirring them a bit, before adding a healthy pinch of salt to the water. Sam continued to stir the sauce gently, turning down the heat as you tested a few noodles before confirming their doneness. He stood back as you took the pot back to the sink, pouring out the noodles into a strainer before bringing it back. Sam shooed you away as he lifted the saucepan and poured it on top of the noodles.

Again he helped himself to your cupboards, fishing out two plates, and scooping the pasta onto them, before finding two forks, placing them on the plates. He picked them up, gliding into the living room and setting them down on your small coffee table. Unlike Danny, you’d never gotten around to having a kitchen table of any sort, finding most of your meals were alone on the couch or over the sink.

“I should go get your clothes from the wash,” you said quietly. You left the apartment, going to the laundry room and fishing Sam’s clothes from the washing machine and into the dryer. Once you were back, Sam stood up from the couch, almost startling you.

“You okay?” Sam nodded, gesturing to the pasta, still steaming on the plates.

“I waited for you,” you gave him a half-smile, coming around the coffee table and taking a seat on the edge of the couch. Sam followed your suit, clearing his throat as he reached forward. He had taken it upon himself to grab napkins, which in your home were just flimsy pieces of cheap paper towel, and spread one over his knee, before staring at you.

“Oh,” you leaned forward, grabbing your own “napkin” and spreading it over your leg too. He seemed satisfied and took his plate in his large hands, picking up the fork and beginning to swirl the tines in the noodles. Following suit, you gathered the pasta onto your fork and blew on it gently before taking the bite. You let out a small hum of approval not realizing that Sam was once again watching you, before digging back into his meal.

The two of you ate in silence for a bit before he cleared his throat.

“If you don’t mind me asking,” you shot him a look, wary in the small space between your bodies on the couch. “What made you try to cast a spell like that?”

Heat flamed in your cheeks. In the moment, the idea had been brilliant. However, facing the consequences had you nearly squirming in embarrassment.

“I was trying to curse my ex.” you mumbled, hastily shoving more food in your mouth. Sam regarded you carefully before proceeding.

“What did they do to make you so angry?”

“Cheated.” was all you replied, your appetite leaving you. The quiet between you was heavy and you cleared your throat. “I’ll be right back,” you placed your plate and napkin on the table, and stood up, going to your room. Shutting the door, you slipped your phone out of your pocket and dialed Danny’s number.

“I don’t have any answers yet,” was all he said when he picked up the call, disappointment in his voice.

“It’s okay,” you sighed. “I just wanted…I just wanted to apologize again. For lying to you and for dragging you into this mess.”

“I can’t say it’s not the worst one you’ve dragged me into,” Danny chuckled under his breath. “but one day we’ll laugh about it.”

“I hope so,” you bit the tip of your thumbnail, pacing a bit.

“Are you okay?” Danny asked softly.

“Yeah…just a little overwhelmed I think.”

“We’ll get you out of this, if it’s the last thing I do.” Danny assured you. “Get some rest, okay?”

“Rest, yeah.” you nodded, slightly distracted by the sound of dishes softly clattering out in your apartment. “I’ll talk to you later…and thanks, Danny.” hanging up with him, you went back out to the main room, seeing Sam in the kitchen. He was standing at the sink, rinsing off your plates and staring out the window boredly as he washed them. Since he was busy, you went back to your room, rifling through your closet and pulling out some old sheets and blankets. Grabbing a spare pillow from your bed, you headed back to the living room, and began setting up a bed on the couch.

“It’s not much, but,” you gestured to the set up once you were done, Sam entering the living room. “It’s better than nothing. At least tonight you have a pillow and blanket.”

“Thank you,” Sam quietly made his way over to the couch, pinching the blanket you’d laid out between his thumb and forefinger.

“Your clothes should be done in the dryer, I’ll go get them.” you moved towards the door but Sam stopped you.

“I’ll go,” he beat you to the door, his hand already turning the knob.

“The laundry room is on the left!” you called after him, watching the door shut. Leaving him to his laundry, you went to the bathroom, beginning to brush your teeth and wash your face before bed. You took your time between each step of your routine, letting it soothe your jangled nerves. Once finished, you left the bathroom, and only made it a step towards your bedroom before you heard Sam call out.

“Fawn?” Peeking around the corner, you saw Sam already under the blanket on the couch, his new clothes folded neatly in a pile on the coffee table.

“Yes, Sam?” you quirked an eyebrow. “Need a bedtime story?”

“No,” Sam shook his head. “I only wanted to say, your ex must’ve been incredibly asinine to have cheated.” heat rose to your cheeks again. “I hope you know that the real curse is for them not being with you now.”

“Thanks, I guess,” you mumbled, not sure how to feel about how Sam was speaking to you. “Goodnight, Sam.”

“Goodnight, little fawn.”

Taglist: (feel free to add yourself!)

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