#my only excuse is I wanted to draw fire and play with lighting

[cats-thoughts]

"...what did you just say about my sister?"

[cxrrodedcoffin]

Dead of Night - Spencer Reid

Likes are always appreciated but reblogs and feedback keep artists going!

Summary: Spencer stumbles upon a secret dark fantasy of reader’s and does everything he can to be the one to fulfill it.

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: This is the first time I’ve ever written anything with themes like this so feedback is definitely appreciated. Not proofread cuz this is long and I’m tired ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ I fully understand if the themes included in this are not for some of my regular readers and I encourage you to scroll if you’re not comfortable with any of the following warnings.

TW: perv!spencer, dom!spencer, mask kink, knife play, blood, dubcon, kind of cnc but it’s emphasized repeatedly that reader initiates and is in control of what is taking place, unprotected sex, penetration, creampie, degradation (slut), pet names (doll, angel) religious imagery, gun mention, std testing mention, fem + afab reader, soulmate talk

Rating: R, 18+

——

You knew it was wrong, you’d seen just how easily Penelope was able to track someone down through their “anonymous” profile on websites just like this one, but your desires got the better of you, and you just had to try.

Your profile was nondescript, your age, a vague physical description of yourself, and a link to a meticulously detailed account of your wildest fantasies. After weeks of back and forth, chatting with a few equally nondescript profiles, you found the one that you really clicked with, the stranger you decided you’d let sneak into your window and do whatever he wanted with you. After an std panel and the agreement of your safe word, you decided to fully commit, sending this complete stranger your address and logging off for the night.

Even though you knew this was a stupid idea, you weren’t a complete idiot, you had plans in case anything went south, including placing your handgun in your bedside table for easy access if you, god-forbid, had to use it. Placing yourself in a high-risk situation was the whole point, and you couldn’t wait to see how it turned out.

You spent the remainder of your afternoon preparing, doing every grooming ritual you’d usually do before a date, but this time felt somehow more important. You didn’t even know what this guy looked like, and yet, you wanted to be the picture of beauty for him. It was silly, but you always pictured yourself the prettiest you’d ever been when you daydreamed about being ravaged by a stranger. You wanted to be completely irresistible in every way, and you were doing everything in your power to accomplish that.

As the sun finally set, your excitement levels began to rise, anxiously awaiting the arrival of your masked suitor. You opened the bedroom window just above your fire escape, the cool night air drawing goosebumps over your exposed skin, only a thin lace slip and matching panties adorning your frame. You crawled into bed, double checking your bedside drawer before pulling your comforter over your body, eagerly drifting off to sleep.

—

Spencer had been keeping a secret, one that he did not want you to know about, until today. A few weeks ago he’d stayed late to finish up some paperwork for the last case you’d been on, when his pen ran out of ink just as he was about to sign off the last document. He walked to your empty desk, reaching across it to grab a pen from the cup next to your monitor, when his arm brushed against your mouse, causing your display to light up.

He knew he shouldn’t snoop, but curiosity got the best of him, scanning through the title of each tab open on your browser until a certain website caught his eye. He went against his better judgment and clicked the tab, his jaw dropping upon viewing your profile, and with it, the graphic description of your sexual proclivities. His brain immediately cemented that information in his mind’s eye, fit to torture him for days after the encounter.

He couldn’t stop picturing himself fulfilling all of those desires for you, having to excuse himself to the bathroom several times a day to take care of the bulge in his pants just from being around you. He eventually bit the bullet, creating his own profile on the website and messaging you as an “anonymous” suitor, beyond pleased when the two of you hit it off. He felt bad not telling you, but this was a means to an end that would surely leave you both satisfied, and the devious part of him won out this time.

He did everything you asked, getting tested so he could fuck you raw, he was apprehensive about the risks of a potential pregnancy even without the fear of std transmission, but the way you begged so beautifully in your messages for him to creampie you was more than enough to convince him. The moment he got your message with your address, he went out and purchased a mask to conceal his identity just like you asked, and anxiously waited for nightfall.

—

The graze of fabric against your skin gently woke you as your bedding was pulled down off of your body, your mind clouded from the deep sleep you’d been sunk in seconds before. You rolled onto your back, starting to lift your head until a large hand clamped over your mouth, forcing your head back down onto your pillow. Your eyes widened, darting around the room before settling on the masked figure on top of you. You tried to scream against his palm, but the sound simply reverberated back against you, muffled by his strong grip.

His free hand made quick work of cutting off your slip, the thin fabric splitting easily against the blade of the knife in his grasp. You struggled underneath him, weakly pushing at his strong shoulders, feigning defense as the heartbeat in your cunt grew stronger by the second. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening, the adrenaline coursing through your veins making you feel almost high.

“Don’t fight it.” He hushed, holding the knife flush against your neck. You slowed your movements, settling for shifting your legs against his. He removed his hand from your mouth, freeing it up to gather your hands to pin them above your head as well as give you an opportunity to use your safe-word if need be.

He trailed the knife down your body, your chest heaving with shaky breaths as the blade scratched a small cut between your breasts, warm droplets of blood forming in it’s wake. He followed the curve of your body, leaving shallow kitten scratches until he reached your hip, using the tip of the knife to carve a heart into your skin. The sting of each movement set every nerve ending in your body on fire, the wetness pooling between your thighs increasing by the second.

He pressed his thumb to the wound, smearing the blood down to the waistband of your panties, using the digit to pull the fabric before letting it snap back against your skin. You gasped, your labored breaths growing more desperate as he brought the blade to slice the fabric, exposing your embarrassingly wet cunt.

“Look at how wet you are, you love this, don’t you?” The condescension in his tone felt almost half-hearted, and the more of his voice you heard, the more familiar he started to sound, but you couldn’t quite place why. You looked down at him, watching his every move as you tried to place him.

He set the knife on the bed, using his now free hand to yank his pants down, his hard cock slapping against his thigh. Your eyes went wide at his size, looking just long and thick enough to have you a little worried about being able to take him raw, but the thought of being stretched to your limits sent another wave of arousal straight to your core and helped quell that fear ever so slightly.

“If you don’t want this, just say the word.” His words dripped from his lips like honey, sickly sweet, and in that moment you had never felt more sure of your desire for anything in your life.

—

Spencer wondered if the way he was feeling was akin to that of religious psychosis, so engulfed in your very being that he ought to worship at your altar for the rest of his life, fit to carry out any act you requested of him.

His brain kept your description of your fantasy scrolling in the back of his mind, catering to everything you had written to a T in hopes of making this a night you’d never forget. The only thing at the forefront of his thoughts, however, was the intoxicating sounds you made every time he gripped or marked your skin. Each note sought to pull his focus, threatening his plan as it tempted him to lose control all together. He couldn’t do that, his conscience too righteous in its goal to keep you as pleased as possible.

He took his time, marking you just the way you’d requested, his cock twitching with every whimper that flowed out of you until he finally reached your core, the lace of your underwear glistening under the moonlight cast through your open window from how wet you were. He wanted to sink fully into you without a care in the world, but he had to make sure this was absolutely what you wanted. He was, to your knowledge, a stranger after all, and the last thing he wanted was for you to be uncomfortable in any way.

—

You frantically shook your head in acknowledgment, spreading your legs wider for him, ready for this tall stranger to finally be inside of you. Your eagerness spurred him on, a surge of confidence washing over him as he let go of your wrists, his large hands gripping your hips and pulling you further down the bed. He lifted your legs so your knees rested atop his shoulders, his rough movements making you gasp.

He brought his cock to your core, running the shaft through your slick folds before slapping the head against your clit a few times, the repeated hits making your hips jolt ever so slightly. He hummed low in the back of his throat, lining up his tip with your entrance before thrusting forward, bottoming out inside of you in one fell swoop.

“You’re so tight.” He grunted, one hand holding an iron grip on your thigh to hold your leg up, the other digging fingerprints into your hip. You gasped once more at the intrusion, feeling more full than ever before as he set a steady but unrelenting pace. Your gasp turned to crying moans, brows furrowed in awe at the way his cock stretched you so deliciously, prominent veins rubbing against the contours of your sensitive walls.

Each snap of his hips had his balls slapping against your ass, the lude sound mixing with his grunts and the wet squelching where your bodies met in the most intimate way, the decibel level in the room reaching an all-time high.

You bit your lip, trying to quiet yourself to at least somewhat lower the noise and not disturb your sleeping neighbors, but the absence of your desperate moans was not lost on him. His pace slowed, his left hand firmly gripping your chin to force you to look at his masked face. His eyes met yours through the thin slit in the dark fabric.

You knew those eyes, those big, soft brown irises, so comforting, yet darker than you recognized, pupils far more blown than you’d ever seen before. You knew him, but there was no way. Your mind must have been playing tricks on you, because there was no way that Spencer Reid would do anything this perverse, let alone with you.

“Louder, slut.” He squeezed your cheeks, forcing your lower lip out from under your bite.

“I-I’m not a slut.” You mumbled, barely above a whisper.

“Only a slut would leave her bedroom window open, practically begging a stranger to come in and fuck her.” This was far too brazen to be Spencer, you thought, a level of blunt confidence you’d never in a million years expect from him.

“I-I didn’t mean to.” You stuttered over your words, raising your voice in an attempt to half heartedly defend your actions.

“Well then, you should really be more careful next time.” He laughed, releasing his grip on your face before playfully slapping your cheek and increasing the pace of his thrusts, his now free hand finding your clit. His calloused thumb drew broad strokes over and over and over against your sensitive bundle of nerves, a knot tightening in your stomach as you drew closer and closer to your release. You turned your head, trying to bury your face in the pillow as you writhed underneath him, your body frantically looking for relief.

“Oh don’t be shy doll, let me see how much you’re enjoying this.” His tone was almost sing-song, clearly enjoying this just as much as you were. He pressed his body down closer to yours, almost pinning your thighs against your stomach, the change in angle forcing a borderline scream from your lungs, crying out strangled ‘uh’s with every stroke. You looked him in the eye, desperate to know if this deity above you could possibly be your nerdy coworker, and every interaction you’d had with him flashed before your eyes.

Every fleeting glance he took at your chest or your ass, the way he lingered behind you in the field, feeling his presence even when you couldn’t see him. You couldn’t think of a time he wasn’t around a corner when you turned it, always near whenever you needed his help on a case. You always secretly hoped he'd make a move sooner or later, but you never thought it would be anything like this.

He was omnipotent, knowing exactly how to make you feel things you’d never felt before, pushing your body to levels of pleasure you never thought possible. You thought you might disappear, your brain short-circuiting as you tried to make sense of everything, finally understanding why the French refer to orgasms as the little death.

Your walls fluttered around him, the sounds leaving you reduced to pathetic whimpers as your vocal chords grew strained.

“That’s it, cum on my cock, angel.” He groaned, his thrusts growing increasingly desperate. The pet name surprised you, but if he saw you as an angel, how fitting considering how godlike he felt to you in that moment. You could tell he was close, and if your orgasm was what would get him to cum inside you, then so be it. Your eyes glazed over, your hands clawing at his back as you chanted ‘fuck, fuck, fuck’ like a mantra, wave after wave of euphoria washing over every nerve in your body.

—

Spencer was a man possessed, his primal urges leaving his mind completely uninhibited, so lost in your body that he thought he might need divine intervention to ever leave you.

He didn’t quite understand where the sudden dominant urge coursing through his veins had come from, but he didn’t care to dwell too much on the thought, content to fuck you into the mattress until you screamed his name.

He knew that wouldn’t happen, but he secretly hoped you’d realize who he was, wishing for nothing more than for you to want him for him. His heart felt like it may burst at the thought, the desire to be wanted as he was ever-lingering inside of it, that being the very motivation behind his lingering tendencies from the start.

As your heat contracted around him, he felt an embrace like no other, hoping the myth of twin flames to be true. If this connection wasn’t proof of it, how could he rationally explain anything? He knew the scientific reasoning behind it, but it didn’t feel like enough, such a finite explanation for a feeling so sempiternal.

He wondered if you felt the same way too, so lost in his every desire that he let himself dive into the delusion, using the pet name he wished he could call you every day for eternity.

Your chants and cries as you came set him free, his hips stuttering as he finally filled your aching cunt to the brim with his seed. He hovered above you, catching his breath, watching your expression soften as you rode out your orgasm, practically glowing.

When he finally snapped out of his lust-fueled haze, he fully remembered his role, pulling out of you and quickly scrambling to stand, fixing his pants and underwear. You had agreed to his departure after, and as badly as he wanted to hold you until you drifted off to sleep, he respected your wishes more than his wants. He walked to the window, lifting his leg to climb out of it when you cleared your throat, drawing his attention. He turned, seeing you sit up, hazy smile on your face.

“Thank you.” You sighed, and he gave a nod of acknowledgement before slipping out of the window and into the night.

—

When you awoke, you had a couple minutes of doubt in which you thought the events of the night before had all been a dream, until you moved to get out of bed and winced at sting from the shallow marks adorning your body and the dull ache between your legs. You smiled to yourself, before looking at your phone and realizing what time it was. You were going to be late, and panic set in when you realized you’d have to go to work in the makeup you’d fallen asleep in last night.

You rushed out the door, checking your makeup in a compact mirror in your car, wiping a small bit of smudged mascara off of your brow bone before walking into work.

“Fun night?” Derek quipped as you walked through the doors, always the first to poke fun at your perceived escapades.

“You could say that.” You laughed, setting your handbag on your desk before joining the team to walk to the conference room.

“What happened?” Penelope asked, almost panicked, taking your arm in her hand and pointing to the only visible cut on your body.

“Oh that’s nothing, I just scraped my arm on my car door.” You reassured, smiling at her. As much as you loved your best friend, she didn’t need to know the truth of your little white lie.

“You should really be more careful next time.” Spencer’s voice came from behind you, his hand gently resting on your hip before squeezing right where the heart shaped cut from the night before was inlaid in your skin. His words reverberated in the space between your ears as your brain processed what he’d just said.

Realization hit you like a semi truck, your lips parting in shock. Your suspicions had been correct, and you almost wanted to turn around and kiss then interrogate him right there. You couldn’t do that though, having a full work day in front of both of you.

Now you just had to figure out a time and place to broach the subject with him without completely humiliating yourself.

——

part 2 can be found here

tag list: @pleasantwitchgarden @lover-of-books-and-tea

DM me or send me an ask if you’d like to be added to my general or spencer reid taglist :)

[starhvney]

𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐋𝐋

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mystreet garroth x fem!reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: your boyfriend finally pursues a career that he chose for himself, so to show him your support you surprise him at his training.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: fluff, firefighter garroth guys firefighter garroth this is in fact not a drill, established relationship

𝐂𝐖: none!

𝐀/𝐍: this fic is based off of @artists-who-rarely-draws hc that garroth would be a firefighter in the mys universe! aren’t firefighters just sooo >>>

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

you were so happy for garroth, nothing but overwhelming support for him was in your heart as he finally was able to pursue something he truly wanted to do for a career. after zane had officially taken the reins of the ro’meave corporation, your boyfriend had immediately enrolled in a firefighting training academy.

he had mentioned his interest in the career path before, but you didn’t realize just how passionate about it he was until he excitedly came home from the first day of the academy, rambling about how well he did.

it warmed your heart, the childlike excitement in his eyes when he detailed the training he went through every day. it was so different from his time in college, when he told you he was majoring in business with a disinterested shrug and a dull look in his eyes.

last week, as you and garroth sat on your couch for your movie night date, you saw that the pd fire academy was asking for volunteers for their upcoming rescue drill. from the corner of your eye you glanced at him, debating whether you should bring it up or not. he had been particularly focused on the rom-com that played, the reflection of the brightly colored screen lighting up his eyes. on a whim, you applied to volunteer without saying a peep, turning your phone off and snuggling up to him with a smirk on your face.

this morning as he asked you what your plans were for the day as usual, you briefly shrugged off the question with an excuse of running a few errands. he gave you a small confused look but shrugged it off, leaning down to kiss you and leaving in his cargos, boots, and the pd fire department shirt that hugged onto his muscles that seemingly continued to grow by the day.

yes, you were very supportive of his career choice.

now, a few hours later, you find yourself in a dim building, the room illuminated by the orange lights shining into the “smoke” that the fog machines dispersed. not only did it look like the building was on fire, but the lack of ac in the summer heat added to the ambiance, and had you slightly regretting your decision. you looked down at the tag that they had given you before escorting you to your spot, telling you to lay limp until you were successfully “rescued”.

legs disabled from fallen debris, half-conscious. critical condition.

you lay there for quite a while, wondering if garroth would even be the one to get you. your doubts are thankfully squandered when you hear him, calling out a code call to presumably another fireman. his familiar footsteps turn into the room you’re in, and you hear his breath satisfyingly hitch in his throat before a disbelieving huff follows. 

quickly, you clamp your eyes all the way shut, ignoring the tempting urge to smile as your plan sets in place.

“victim, victim, victim!” his deep voice calls, the noise of the thick material of his uniform meets your ears as he slides on his knees next to you. 

“she’s light,” he calls to the other pair of heavy footfalls that enter the room. “find an exit, i got her.”

you crack open your eyes, turning your head and looking up at him as a cheeky smile threatens to break on your lips. for just a split moment he narrows his eyes as they meet yours, tongue rolling against the inside of his cheek as he fights off his own urge to smile.

“…errands, huh,” he mutters under his breath, shaking his head as he leans forward to read the tag on your shirt. he snaps right back into his profession, one of his hands reaching to grab your shoulder in a reassuring gloved grip. “you’re going to be okay. i’m gonna get you out here safe.”

a part of you wants to laugh at how serious he suddenly became, but through your want to tease him you instead found yourself repressing a giddy giggle. the summer heat was most definitely affecting him through the heavy layers of his gear, as a sheen of sweat covered his face and stuck the small bit of his golden hair coming out of his helmet to his forehead. 

you only get to admire him for a moment, before he quickly shifts his knee to part your legs, one of his hands grabbing onto your thigh and hitching it up. at the same time, he easily gathers both of your wrists into his other hand, using it to lift your torso off of the ground. he smoothly ducks his head under your shoulder, lifting you up and using his own shoulder to hold you on his back.

there's not even a grunt heard from his lips, but his heavy breaths brush against your arm as he uses one hand to pin your hand across his chest and to your leg, freeing his other hand. he has always been strong, but the extra training he has put in lately gave him an insane boost. through the material that covered him, you could still feel the bulk of his muscles from underneath you as he toted you through the building.

it was amazing, how easy he made it look. you found yourself back outside in seconds, having to close your eyes again from the sudden bright sun reflecting into your eyes. he held you so firmly on top of him that you barely moved as he jogged you out to one of the stretchers set up outside, sliding you down onto the material. 

he pauses for a second, his lips twitching as he pats your legs twice. “i’ll talk to you about this when i’m done,” is what he says without words, begrudgingly turning to run back into the building with another huff.

one of the supervisors lets you get up, thanking you for volunteering and giving you a water to rehydrate from the stuffy room you were stuck in. it’s only about fifteen more minutes of waiting before the rest of the volunteers are retrieved and the drill is over. garroth quickly walks your way as soon as he spots you again, pulling off his helmet and shaking out his pressed-down hair. his jacket has been shrugged off now, red suspenders hanging down on his cargos and his black shirt damp from sweat.

“and… why did you not think to mention this to me?” he asks, raising an accusatory brow and pulling you into his embrace.

“i wanted to see you in action. besides, if i told you, you might’ve chosen favorites.”

“hmm,” he hums lowly, rolling his eyes as he leans down to press a kiss against your forehead. “i would argue against that, but even for a drill i’d save you first.”

“ro’meave! quit flirting with your girl over there and get your ass over here! we still have to debrief.”

“yes, sir!” he calls back, turning to you with a sheepish smile as he tucks his chin down, looking at you through his lashes.

“i’ll see you in a sec, sweetheart. and don’t leave, you still have some explaining to do.”

©starhvney, 2024. please do not steal or repost my works as your own.

[shadeysprings]

Deal or No Deal.

—Pete Brenner x F!Reader

Summary — You work hard to entice the biggest possible client for your company, but he has his own ideas for you to make him say yes.

Warnings — implied noncon/dubcon, coercion, power imbalance. There may be more that I forgot to mention but please read with caution.

Word Count — 986

A/N — Another impromptu fic because the muse was calling for it. Plus, the babies were wanting and who am I to say no and not deliver. Un-beta and no editing has been done so may be sloppy. But we all love some slop anyway haha!

As always, your feedback is highly appreciated and your reblogs would be amazing. And of course, I hope y'all enjoy! ❤️

The bored look on Pete’s face has you feeling even more nervous since you walked into his company. You never should have agreed to take on this project, you should have just stayed quiet and allowed Janice to take it. But no—you had to be proactive, you had to shove it in her face that you are just as good as a sales rep as her, maybe even better. Yet now, as you continue on with your spiel, the presentation you’ve worked so hard on only looks to be going down the drain. 

“Next slide.” Pete says, making you stutter in surprise but simply doing as you’re told and leaning down on your laptop to tap the key. The audible groan that emits from him has you edge as you do.

“Our product not only surpasses the ones like it but it’s tested and proven to do more.” You say with the remaining enthusiasm left in your system. “If you can see from the studies we’ve conducted, Jan—”

“Yawn.” Pete utters while actually doing so, leaning against the seat and resting his elbow atop the table, his cheek leaning on his fist. “Is there any version of this where we end up fucking?”

That stops you. Your brows furrowed in confusion with the words that just rolled out of his mouth. 

“Excuse me?” You say, disgust and shock curling in your voice.

He chuckles and stands from his seat, exaggeratingly stretching his arms before walking over to you at the end of the long table, fingers grazing over the wooden surface.

“You heard me. That presentation of yours? I’ve seen so many just like it from so many people who, just like you, are desperate for me to say yes.” You hear your heart beat frantically against your chest as he comes closer, your feet taking a step back but no more further as you’re suddenly frozen in place. 

“But just like them, I’m going to say no. You know why?” 

You don’t know if he’s asking a serious question or simply playing with you, trying to intimidate you with the unknown power he holds over your head. 

You don’t respond.

“Let me tell you why. Because it’s boring.” His words are like a vice to your chest. “I’m sure you’ve spent all night perfecting this powerpoint and practicing that speech, but, it just ain’t selling. Nothing about it interests me. Nothing about it makes me want to throw my money at it. And nothing about it makes me say ‘Wow!’”

His large hands trace the edge of your laptop before shutting it close, the room going dim, except for the light coming from the projector as your presentation vanishes.

“Nothing about them draws me in. Except you—” The way he says it makes your skin crawl and you take another step back when you see his eyes run up and down your figure, trapping his tongue between his teeth in the process. “There’s a fire in you. Like you would do anything to prove yourself.” He teases. Stopping just in front of you and framing his hip with his hand, in a way that has you seeing the bulge that has formed in his pants, while his other hand taps against the table, waiting, anticipating your next move. 

“So either, you walk out of this room with nothing—a loser like the rest of those chumps waiting outside to talk to me, or you go back to your boss with a big fat sale you can rub onto the one you took this project from.” 

Your hand visibly shakes with the tension that’s swirling around you. Is this what you want? To allow this man to order you around and do as he pleases for the sake of your career? What face would you show Daniel if he says no? Pete is one of the biggest clients he’s been chasing and you’ve been stupid enough to try and show off. 

Letting out a quivering sigh, you bite your lip and place your notes to the side, looking up at Pete’s face before clenching your fists and looking down at your feet. 

“A thousand pieces.” You argue. If you’re losing your dignity, you may as well get something bigger out of it. 

“You bend over this table and show me that ass and I’ll think about giving you seven hundred.” He bargains, a playful smirk forming on his lips—a sign of his victory and your defeat. 

It’s less yet still more than your initial ask. 

Nodding and once more releasing a breath, you lift up your pencil skirt to reveal your backside and lean against the table just like he’s asked. You bite your tongue to stop the yelp that wants to push from your lips when he slaps your ass and whimper in fear and hatred for this man when he grabs you by the waist and presses his clothed erection against you. 

“Make it worth my while, Sweetheart. My time ain’t cheap.”

“There’s our superstar!” Daniel says in oblivious excitement when you walk back into your department, Janice and the rest of your co-workers looking at you with expectation in their eyes. “Well?” Daniel prompts. “How many did he get?”

“Fifteen hundred with a possible order next month.” You say in resignation and present him the order slip signed by Pete with a note requesting for another meeting next week. Shock fills his eyes as he stares down at the paper before he punches the air in obvious celebration.

“No fucking way!” Janice says in disbelief, yet the others surround you, bidding their congratulations. 

“What did you tell him?” One of your co-workers asks.

“What did you do?” Another.

“She did her fucking best, that’s what.” Daniel says in excitement before hugging you tight. “I never doubted you one second, champ. I’m glad I gave you this account.”

If only you can say the same.

[lumienyx]

Hi! Could you write some soft BDSM featuring gn Tav?

i saw 'soft BDSM' and my brain immediately went to lightning play, i have no excuses sorry. hope you enjoy💙

soft shocks

Rating: E | Pairing: Astarion/Tav, Astarion/Reader | Words: 1,321

Tags: Gender-Neutral Tav, Smut, Plot What Plot, Light BDSM, Blood Drinking, Established Relationship, inappropriate use of magic, lightning play, listen Astarion gets… creative in the bedroom, that's it that's the plot

Read on AO3 or continue under the cut ↓

~~~

You feel the first kiss of pain against your hip, a sizzling sensation trailing soft shocks along your skin. 

The moan comes unbidden, and you find yourself leaning into Astarion’s touch, chasing that tantalizing feeling of pain and pleasure bleeding into one. Flashes of lightning flicker around Astarion’s hands, a gentle sting following in their wake up your sides as his fingers move to hover above your chest.

“All right, darling?” Astarion asks, even as a smirk tugs at his lips. “I warned you it would hurt.”

“’s amazing,” you gasp, your voice straining with want. “Please.” The magic still reverberates along your skin with a welcome warmth after the momentary soreness.

“I do so love it when you beg.”

“Ah. ”

It's not electricity that pulsates through Astarion’s fingers now as he starts playing with your nipples—there’s just the heat of magic coating his hand. But even just the promise of pain sets you alight with tingling thrumming along your limbs. He squeezes, and tugs, and caresses as you writhe under his weight, relishing the cool skin against yours which runs white-hot in comparison. You press your hips against his, pleading silently now as coherence slips away. All that’s left for you to voice are wanton groans and breathy gasps amid barely understandable whispers for more and please.

Astarion only grins at you, satisfaction and mischief lighting up his eyes. 

He kisses you then, tender and languid in contrast to his touch. 

He teases your lips with his tongue before pulling away, too quick for you to catch him back into a kiss you crave more of. 

You moan as he mouths down to your neck to place playful and painful bites that almost sink into your skin but not quite, while his hands set the rest of your body on fire. 

There's the lightning shocks that follow Astarion’s touch as he strokes the inside of your thighs, the bottom of your belly, your hip bones, anywhere and everywhere save for where you want it most. And maybe your begging is enough for him—maybe it’s too much—but Astarion grants your wish soon enough, at least in part. He times the bite on your neck that finally does break skin with a featherlight electric shock right above your groin that stokes your arousal even more. So much so that it's the absence of him inside you that hurts most, not the sting of lightning and not the bite. 

And as he drinks, you hope he leaves another, deeper mark. Evidence of his claim on you. You lean into his mouth, feeling the fangs lodge in further, harder. You feel light-headed already, and it's too much yet not enough. It’s exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure, how your body yearns to fight for survival while your mind craves to give in to Astarion completely. 

You love how he drinks so deeply and hungrily from you, how his zeal betrays the coy smirks and the teasing, revealing just how much he wants you, too. The thought draws a chuckle out of you—and you get a flare of lightning along your side in retaliation as Astarion withdraws. 

“Whatever is so amusing, sweet love?” There’s a teasing hint of a playful threat in Astarion’s voice, even as he breathes somewhat shallowly. “Do share.”

His hands still thrum with magic as they’re stroking and kneading where he knows you’re most sensitive. There’s barely any presence of mind left in you to talk, yet you manage, 

“Wondering how long you can keep this up before you lose control,” your voice weak and trembling. Honestly, it does always sound so much better in your head.

Astarion huffs out a laugh in turn. “As long as I need to get you to beg.”

“I already did!”

“Maybe.” Astarion leans in to mouth the words against your ear, making the sensitive skin there prickle from the cool breath. “I’d like to hear it again.”

“Astarion—”

“Again.”

“I…” Surrender is sweet when it’s him that you fall to, completely unarmed against that piercing gaze. “Please.”

“Please what?” Astarion drawls, voice low and silken, almost a whisper.

His pupils are blown so wide there's just a thin red rim around them, his face slightly flushed from the blood he’s drunk, lips parted and streaked crimson. His eyes show it all—he’s lost in the pleasure just as you are lost in him.

“Please, please, please fuck me.”

Astarion doesn’t make you wait anymore—maybe he can’t, either. He makes such short work of getting rid of his trousers and mounting your legs on his shoulders, you can’t help but think maybe there's a chance he can get lost in you, too.

You've long been ready for him, aching with it. That simmering heat is now fire searing from your core to every nerve in your body as Astarion slides inside you, agonizingly slow, as ever careful not to hurt even as you both crave the connection. He stretches you wide, fills you perfectly like you were made to fit one another. You pull him closer, urge him deeper, and he says something about you being oh so eager—but you’re too far gone now to discern the words properly. 

The only sound you really hear is just the raw, crispy-sweet cadence of Astarion’s voice. 

The only sensation you can focus on is all the places your skin touches his. 

His lips once more paint your neck with lightning-bright kisses. There are the hands digging into your hips, no doubt lovingly bruising them for tomorrow. There’s the feel of him buried deep inside you, fucking into you faster and harder with each thrust.

You’re completely gone by then, split in-between tingling touches, sharp kisses, searing bites, and the slick slide of Astarion’s cock inside you. It feels so hot—too hot, too good—overwhelmingly so. He whispers sweet nothings against your skin and all you can answer with are broken moans and whimpers.

The release hits you hard and sudden, knocking the breath out of you as you clench around Astarion and dig your nails into his back. Your limbs seem to lose all control, trembling and twitching as you ride it out. But Astarion is still moving inside you, the friction building up the heat all over again. You squeeze your eyes shut against the onslaught—you can’t—you’re too sensitive—you want to tell him, but all that comes out is another choked groan as your body keeps singing with the orgasm he doesn’t let end…

“That fast, darling, really?” Astarion’s voice is the first thing you hear when you come to. Then your heavy panting mingling with the stray whimpers that still escape as you shudder from the aftershocks. “Still with me?” 

“Mm,” you try, still catching your breath. “Think so.”

A cool hand covers your cheek. Astarion runs his thumb against your lashes, coaxing your eyes to open.

“I did promise to take you apart, didn't I?” Astarion tries for a coy smile but you see the desperate need glinting in his eyes, the slight trembling of his hand that’s gripping you by your side. Like he’s hanging on to the last vestiges of his control. 

You're only coherent enough to reach up for a messy kiss, thrusting your tongue into his mouth and savoring the closeness, the taste tinged with hints of salt and iron from your own blood. He’s still hard and heavy inside you, shifting as you move but staying motionless himself, waiting for your next move. You purposefully tighten around him, then, satisfied by the muffled groan it earns you. You grip him by the waist, pulling him closer, impossibly deeper.

“I believe,” you whisper against his lips, “you promised I’d forget my name by the time you’re done with me. I still remember mine,” you tease him.

“My sweet.” Astarion’s lips curl into a wicked grin. “I'm only just getting started.”

~~~

thank you for the read💙 would love any and all feedback if you liked it :3

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!)

@satanicspinosaurus, @tallymonster, @tragedybunny

[luxheroica]

I wrote Wyll/Karlach, inspired by this art. I have been shipping them hard for months and knew I needed to contribute to the ship in some way. Also on AO3.

Tonight the camp is drunk on success and copious amounts of wine. There is still hardship and danger on the road ahead, not least for those who still bear the tadpoles in their heads. For tonight the goblins are gone and the druids ritual halted, the wine is sweet and the fire bright and that is enough to banish thoughts of darkness ahead. 

The bard Alfira has struck up a string of country dances on her lute, the kind of songs played at festivals and weddings for all to join. Wyll, in good humor and more than incidentally tipsy, joins the first one– a circle dance that has him linking arms with Lia on his left and Zorru on his right as they careen faster and faster around the roaring bonfire. 

There is something liberatory about dancing among the tieflings. None of them stare at his horns (still heavy on his head) or his strange eyes, instead taking them in stride. 

Wyll is the only one among the group that he has privately begun to think of as ‘companions’ to join the dance. Tav snuck off some time ago to find a private tent with Gale. Astarion is skulking around somewhere with a bottle of wine. Lae’zel scorned the idea of any revelry and has gone to bed, and Shadowheart in rare sympatico with the gith has also retired early. 

He is surprised not to see Karlach among the party– until he turns and sees her at the edge of the firelight, drinking out of a flask and watching the dancing, her feet tapping along with the music. 

The song comes to an end with a repetition that is so fast it nearly has all of them tripping over their own feet. Wyll has to catch his breath when at last the lute sings out its last note, and the gathered tieflings break out in applause. 

He excuses himself from the fireside and finds Karlach, who tips her drink at him and nods when he approaches. 

“You don’t wish to join the dancing?”

“Oh, ah,” Karlach shifts on her feet. She’s always in motion, he’s noticed, whether she’s fidgeting or pacing around the camp. “I don’t really feel like setting anybody on fire tonight. Plus I don’t know any of the dances.” As if sensing she’s brought the mood down she grins at Wyll. “You looked like you were having fun though.” 

“It was quite fun,” Wyll says, eyeing Karlach, who is watching the firelight circle with half an eye. “Most of these dances don’t have complicated steps– they’re easy to learn, if you follow what everyone else is doing you’re more than halfway there.” 

“Doesn’t solve the problem of me turning that whole line dance into kindling.” 

She’s keeping her tone light, joking and grinning, like she doesn’t really care that she can’t ever touch anyone without harming them. 

Wyll follows her lead in this. “I’ve got a nice sturdy pair of leather gloves,” he cajoles, pushing her just a little. “And Mizora’s present should make me at least a little resistant to infernal fire.” 

Karlach grins again, softening a little this time. “Don’t worry about me, soldier– I’m all left feet, you get me out there I’ll just careen into everything. Get out there and enjoy yourself.” 

Wyll doesn’t believe that– well, he does believe the part about her careening, she seems like the type to careen– but he doesn’t believe that she truly wants him to leave her to go enjoy dancing. Karlach puts up a good front, but were he in her shoes he would want nothing more than the simple things that had been so long denied him. 

He fishes in his pouch and draws out his pair of sturdy leather gloves which he slides over his hands, like a courtier drawing on his silk gloves so that he might offer a hand to a lady, then bends at the waist in his very best courtly bow. That it is a little out of practice he thinks she will forgive, especially when an irrepressible laugh burbles up out of her. 

Wyll winks, and Karlach laughs again. 

“Well, my lady?” Wyll asks. “May I have this dance.” 

She’s grinning truthfully now, as she takes his hand. There’s a bit of heat, like he might feel pulling a pan from the oven, but it’s shielded by the leather. “You may,” Karlach says, a laugh still at the back of her throat. 

Wyll pulls her towards the firelight. Careful to give her enough space that any careening won’t be a danger, but still within the flickering orange glow of it. A few of the tieflings look at them and grin when they join. There’s a new tune starting up– he knows this one, a sprightly hop meant to be danced with a single partner. 

“This one isn’t complicated, just follow my steps,” Wyll murmurs to Karlach as he begins twirling her around the fire. At first she is clumsy, all left feet as she said, but after a few turns she starts to anticipate the little skip-hop on the third beat. Wyll smiles. “There, you’re getting it.” 

Karlach shakes her head, still grinning. “You’re playing with fire, you know that right?” 

Wyll meets her eyes. Grins right back. “Wouldn’t be the first time.” He sends her out in a spin, and her laugh echoes all the way to the sky above. 

They whirl around the bonfire, until the flames become embers and the music slows and they all at last stumble off drunk and sleepy to bed. Wyll’s thick leather gloves are covered in scorch marks, but he considers it worth the sacrifice to see Karlach’s soft smile when at last the dancing finishes for the night. 

There will be danger on the morrow, but for tonight his heart is warm. 

[why-what-no]

Pretty When You Cry

Pairing: Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst

Summary: Billy’s girlfriend gets tired of him always abandoning her to hang out with his jock friends. Based on the song Pretty When You Cry by Lana Del Ray

Requested by: My bae @mothshabby

It was a beautiful night as (Y/N) stepped out of her friend’s car, stars shining so bright like they were watching her. Her shoes crunching over the gravel as she got out of the car.

“You want me to come with you?” Nancy asked, brow knitted in concern. (Y/N) avoided eye contact, knowing that the pity on Nancy’s face would make her cry.

She shook her head.

“Alright. Steve’s there if you get into trouble , I’ll wait here until you’re back.”

She was always so grateful for Nancy. Even when the girl was a lot, the Wheeler girl was the best friend anyone could have. And (Y/N) was holding that thought in her mind like a shield as she walked towards the bonfire party that the jocks were holding after their game’s big win.

She could spot Billy fairly easily. Glowing gold in the warm light of the fire, standing and laughing with his friends. His wild laugh like a lion’s roar, his mane of blond hair blowing in the wind.

The sight of him made her chest constrict, even more so when he spotted her and grinned. Billy shoved past his friends and made his way to her. “Hey babe, what are you doing here?”

He knew something was wrong when he leaned forward to kiss her and she stepped back.

“Did you forget, Billy?” Her voice was soft, a waver in it. She was trying to pull on her anger, hoping that anger would make it easier to talk than sadness. “You said we were going out for dinner after your game?”

His face dropped, realizing what he had done. Around them, the basketball players were laughing and play fighting. Unaware of what was happening between the lovers. The fraying relationship.

When (Y/N) and Billy got together, she always felt like his whole world. She was his girl, he told her everything. So many days they spent together, holding each other close.

But Billy had been getting distant, knowing he had her so forgetting he needed to work to keep her.

Plans got cancelled hours before they were supposed to happen, leaving (Y/N) all dressed up with nowhere to go. She’d spend so much time waiting for him only for him to never come through.

And she couldn’t do it any longer.

“I’m sorry princess.” Billy was trying to make it right. “Let me get my stuff, we can go to dinner right now.”

“No. I wanna go home.”

“Then I’ll take you home.” He replied

“Not with you.”

Her boyfriend looked properly scared. “(Y/N).” He only used her proper name when he was being serious. “I’m sorry, I… I can make this better.”

She shook her head, picking at her nails. “I think it’s better if you don’t. This relationship clearly isn’t important to you.”

“No!” Billy denied that quickly, drawing a few glanced from his friends. Their attention was retaken by the party moments after, however. “I need you, babe.”

“Don’t say things you don’t mean.” (Y/N)‘s voice was harsher, her mind made up. “Not when you keep leaving me for your friends.”

She didn’t listen to the rest of his excuses, turning on her heeling and walking away from him. Walking away like she should have done earlier.

It was only when she got back to the car that she started crying. Nancy had her arm around (Y/N), saying reassuring things that the heartbroken girl could barely hear.

While she finally wiped her eyes after her sobbing, (Y/N) took the time to examine herself in the mirror. Billy always said that she looked so pretty, his pretty darling. She wondered if he’d think she looked pretty while crying that she was. Maybe that was why he kept hurting her.

Maybe it was because he thought she was pretty when she cried.

[novashelby]

I think you need to go easy on people having a very natural curiosity and speculating on personal lives. We literally do it in casual, everyday settings (ie office life, school, hobby groups, etc). I understand your disdain and protective attitude towards your muse, but it’s not taking into account that a vast majority of readers on Tumblr have very real mental health challenges—myself included, where spending time lusting and being curious about a wildly attractive and mesmerizing actor and character plays a big role in distraction, dopamine release, curiosity about human behavior, deciphering cues, etc. Even his coworkers are intrigued and nosy about his personal life. While this is no excuse for poor behavior, it may shine light that fighting this urge of gossip is a lot harder than you think when the fan fiction, media and the way human minds work all come together to leave big impressions.

The message is heard loud and clear. Calling it sick and implying it’s some twisted, abnormal, unconscionable behavior is just not in line with reality. Yes, gossip can do real harm, but please try for a softer tone and realize many of the writings produced on here only add fuel to the fire of lust/dreaming/wanting to feel closer to the subject. Your message will be much better accepted.

This was actually meant for @cillmequick, apparently, but I am going to answer it.

Firstly, my overall objective was: we are too invested in their personal lives. Their personal lives should be off limits. We should love and admire their work, but allow them to clock out like everyone else.

Personally, I don't give a fuck about CILLIAN MURPHY. What I mean by that, I don't care about his marriage, I don't care about his work out routine, don't care about his family life, I don't care about what he does in his free time, I don't give a fuck if he got a hair cut, I don't give two flying shits if he got a tattoo. He's allowed to enjoy those things without me up in his ass. I care about him in regards to his work and what he says about his work.

Quite honestly, I could walk out of my house right now and see him, and not spazz out. Why? Because we are all human and share this planet. I'd do a wave, say hi, and allow him to live his life.

People are too much. I'm sorry you found my language harsh, but that is life. Personally, I couldn't write a RPF because it's just too much for me. I love his CHARACTERS. RPF is fine, I get it. People know it's fake. But it's more of just everything else that comes with it; gossip, harmful speculations, slander, degrading, harassing a human. I'm not going to come at someone for enjoying Cillian fics. Do your thing. Just do it respectfully.

What I am annoyed with is people up in business that they don't belong in, and grabbing information and being harmful with it.

And truly, I am sorry if you were hurt by my words. I understand people are going to be nosy...that's just being human. It's more how you do it and what you do with the information you have, sort of thing.

And I'm sorry you are struggling with mental health issues. Though, if you are relying on a celebrity for a daily dopamine hit, I really would suggest finding other outlets. I'm not trying to be rude, I'm being serious. Famous people cannot adhere to your expectations and one day, he may do something you really hate, and then you're left without. They can't and aren't your image of what you want them to be. So, I really suggest finding another outlet; hiking, walking, painting, drawing, journaling, writing, yoga, and so on. Exercise is a really good dopamine boost...even if it's just a little stretching. I say this as someone who struggles with GAD, CTSD, PTSD, Panic Disorder, and depression.

Please take care and I didn't mean to be harmful with my words. I just wish people understood personal space a little more. Have possibly a little more dignity and respect, I guess. Sorry, I may sound all jumbled. I have been sick.

Kisses.

[messrmoonyy]

Tess finds you on a side street in Boston all beaten and bloody after you’ve been robbed. She takes you back to her place to stitch you up.

Needle and thread

Tess servopoulos x fem!reader

Not my gif - viktorhargreeves

A/N- Tess has had me in a chokehold ever since I first played the game a few years ago. The show has only amplified this. She’s a badass. A massive Mf flirt. Man I adore her. And seeing as the tess x reader tag is practically Barron. Here I am. Just a little something to ease me into writing for her. I’m still getting to grips with writing her.

Warnings: Tess loves a good curse word and I know some of you are tetchy about that, mentions of violence, mentions/ descriptions of injuries, reader doesn’t have a specified age but was born before outbreak day but is younger than Tess.

Word count: 3.8K

Masterlist

The first thing you registered was how fucking cold you were.

In fairness it hadn’t been a particularly warm day to begin with. It was the middle of winter and the sky had had that odd light, that showed it was full of impending snowfall, all day. And to make things worse you were street sweeping all day, out in the cold. You’d worn your thickest jacket, but in that moment you felt as though you weren’t even wearing one.

Your entire body was throbbing, your head pounding and there was a dull ache in your side, your mouth tasted of that bitter metallic twang of blood.

Next you noticed that you couldn’t see daylight behind your closed eyelids. It was dark. Where were you? What time was it?

The surface beneath you was too solid to be your bed. Yeah the mattress back in your apartment wasn’t exactly the comfiest thing, but it wasn’t that uncomfortable. And that cold breeze hitting your skin, chilling you to the bone…Where. The fuck. Were you?

Your eyes refused to open maybe out of fear or because your body felt so weak. Maybe it was a mixture of both.

Last thing you remembered was leaving your work assignment, payment of ration cards in your pocket.

Getting cornered in the alley.

A kick. A punch. Black.

You groaned and tried to move but your body protested. But you needed to move. To get up. If you were outside. And it was dark… it was past curfew. You didn’t need arresting for breaking the rules, FEDRA were getting a little too trigger happy for your liking. Firing squads and public hanging were becoming too frequent. And youd lasted 20 years in the damn shit hole that world was now. A firing squad wasnt how you wanted to go.

You’d had far too much time to think about death over the years and if you were gonna go out, you’d do it yourself. You’d decided that a while ago. Not because of some jumped up military officer who probably had a bet with another of who could get the most arrests in a week.

As if to confirm your own fears you heard footsteps drawing closer, hushed voices. And maybe that was it. Maybe you were about to be arrested for breaking curfew and you’d be up on the gallows tomorrow morning and that was that. They’d make up some excuse about having held a fair trial. When in reality they didn’t give two shits

“ Jesus fucking Christ “ you waited for a radio beep, a soldier calling in about someone out. They wouldn’t care that you’d been beat to a pulp. They wouldn’t care it was clearly not your fault that you were lying there in the dark. It was starting to become a game to them now, how many executions could they get in a week.

But no radio beep came. No static FEDRA chatter.

“ hey. Hey you alive? “ you coughed in some attempt to clear the blood that was still seeping into your mouth and attempting to find its way down your throat “ yeah. Alive “

“ Tess what are you doing? “ this voice was a man’s. A heavy Texan accent dripping from his low voice, his tone hushed.

“ what? You want to leave her here? “ a pair of cold hands were on your face, tilting it to the side and clearly examining the damage done.

“ since when are you so caring? “

“ since some girl has had her fucking face kicked in on one of our routes“ you groaned and tried to push yourself up, failing miserably.

“ and what exactly are you planning to do with her Tess? We need to get this shit back. Now “ a pair of hands held you under your arms and positioned you sitting back against the wall. You blinked a few times to clear the blurriness and tears from your eyes, forcing them open.

A woman was crouched down in front of you, holding her hand up in front of her “ hey how many fingers? “

“ 3 “ you said only mildly certain through the blurriness of your eyes.

“ good. No double vision? “ you shook your head weakly and she sighed, checking over you and pulling at your shirt slightly. There was a deep gash on your side which told you why it had been hurting, oozing a steady stream of blood over your shirt “ you live near here? That’s gonna need stitches “ you shook your head again, and your eyes fell on a gun tucked away in the waist band of her jeans. Her baggy shirt covering it for the most part.

You tried to shuffle away and shook your head

“ no- no I don’t- I don’t have anymore cards please- “ the woman’s brow furrowed and she followed your eye line, gripping tighter to your arms to keep you in place.

“ hey. Hey! I’m not gonna fucking hurt you I’m trying to help you. I don’t want your fuckin cards I got enough of my own, not that they’re any use to anyone right now “ you stopped squirming, still unsure of the woman- Tess- but surely if she was going to rob you too she’d have done it by now. Winter rations were at an all time low, most of the time they weren’t even honouring full cards. People were getting desperate “ shit “ you looked down at where she had pulled a hand away from you, it covered in blood. Your blood.

She looked around the ground where she’d found you before sighing and nodding at something “ you fell on that “ a broken bottle with your blood dripping off of its jagged edges was clear enough evidence “ do you live near here? “ she asked again, her hands still holding you firmly.

“ few blocks “ she sighed again and ran a hand over her face.

“ she’s gonna fucking bleed out if we leave her here Joel “ the man, Joel, scoffed and you looked up at him. He was glancing around nervously, probably looking for FEDRA.

“ ‘we’ there is no we with this Tess. Fuck this we need to get out of here. You really wanna draw more attention to us when I’ve got a bag full of pills? “ Tess looked over you again, readjusting a black bandanna in her hair with a sigh.

“ Jesus Christ “ she muttered before standing up and holding out her hand “ come on, come with me I’ll patch you up. Don’t stitch that shit up soon and you’ll bleed out. I live closer less chance of getting caught. We need to get out of here before FEDRA is on our asses “ you hesitated for a moment and she raised an eyebrow. Kindness was rare nowadays and after such a brutal reminder of that, it was hard to readily accept it “ or you can stay here and bleed out. Or get arrested. I don’t give a fuck either way “ she looked mildly irritated and you accepted the hand and winced as she pulled you to your feet

“ Thank you “

“ get that shit back to yours. I’ll see you in the morning “ Joel opened his mouth to protest but she held up her hand and it snapped closed again “ go “ you expected him to protest again, tell her she was stupid and then let them leave you there to die. But she seemingly was the one that had the power. He answered to her and not the other way around “ come with me “ she nodded up the street, indicating for you to follow her. “ keep pressure on your side. Stick close to me “ she said over her shoulder and you did as she said, breathing deeply in some attempt to stop the pain surging up your side as you pressed down on the wound “ robbing people and leaving them for fucking dead. I know people are desperate but fuck me “ she muttered seemingly to herself and shook her head “ people are getting more and more desperate by the fucking day “ you followed close on her tail.

The winter rations truly were at an all time low. You hadn’t seen them so bad in a while. Handing out half’s and expecting people to be okay with it. All it was doing was making people more erratic and desperate. More fights. More arrests. More executions. More people trying to leave the zone, somehow thinking there was a better chance at food or survival outside of the wall.

Maybe it was.

You remembered your time before entering the QZ. It was hell on earth. But sometimes you did think you’d rather chance it out there than with the officers inside the walls.

You were light headed as you followed Tess along more back alleys, stopping every time she flung an arm out to stop you if a FEDRA patrol passed by.

“ holding up okay? “ she asked as she held an arm across your chest to keep you flush against the wall, an armoured truck driving past with its bright torches shining down the streets looking for anyone breaking curfew. You wondered how much longer it would have been before they’d found you lying there. If you’d be in the back of that exact truck now headed for a FEDRA lockup, ready for the gallows in the morning.

“ yeah “ you said a little breathlessly and doing your best to ignore the pain.

“ convincing “ she huffed a small laugh before nodding up the street and kept walking.

She lead you into a building and up a flight of stairs to the end of the hall. You followed her into what you assumed was her apartment, Standing a little awkwardly as she locked the door behind you.

“ sit down “ she instructed and pointed over to the small kitchen table, flicking on a couple of portable lamps. You sat down with a sigh of mild relief and looked down at your side, blood still oozing around the edges.

“ fuck “ you tried to distract yourself, looking around the room. The bed was unmade, clearly still in the state she’d left it in when she’d left. Dishes in a pile by the sink, A plaid shirt tossed over the back of a red couch that had seen better days. There were no pictures on the wall. Most people you’d met that were born pre outbreak had at least one picture from before. But she had nothing. Nothing to give away about who she was.

Your eyes fell back onto her as she joined you at the table, pulling the chair under her so she was sat so close to you that your knees touched.

“ look I’m no nurse and I can’t promise you that the finished product will be pretty but it’s that or bleed out “ she was very direct. To the point. It almost made you want to laugh and you wondered if the blood loss was sending you slightly manic.

“ right “ you watched her carefully as she threaded a needle before soaking it in alcohol. It didn’t seem even remotely hygienic. But you guessed nothing much was these days.

“ take your jacket and shirt off “ again, very direct and to the point. She didn’t seem the type to beat around the bush or bullshit you and you kind of liked that. So you did as you were told, gritting your teeth as you peeled the fabric away from the wound. She picked up a torch from the table and shone it over the area, inspecting it “ cant see any glass. You’ve got that going for you… here hold this “ she handed you the torch and guided your hand to hold it where she wanted it, her fingers over yours “ I won’t bullshit you. This is going to hurt like a bitch “

“ awesome “ her eyes darted up to yours, a small smirk pulling at her lips and she gave a small shake of her head.

“ alright sit back… that’s it. Good “ she leant forward and you instantly tensed as you prepped for the pain “ relax or this will hurt ten times more “ she said lowly, clearly focussed. You tried your best and closed your eyes “ okay on 3 take a breath… 1. 2. 3 “ you groaned in pain as the needle pierced your skin, the feeling of the thread pulling through so odd and uncomfortable you were almost scared you’d puke. And wouldn’t that be embarrassing

“ fucking Christ “

“ breathe. You’re doing great “ you refused to look at the needle poking in and out of your skin, looking at her instead. The entire thing was oddly… intimate. She was leant so close you could feel the faint cold of her breath on your burning skin.

You almost laughed that something like that was making you flustered.

“ was that your… husband? “ you asked quietly in some attempt to distract yourself from the burning pain in your side, hissing through your teeth and gripping tightly at her bicep as she threaded another stitch into your skin.

“ no “ she said, eyes glancing up to meet yours for a brief moment, that mildly irritated smirk playing on her face again “ he’s a headache “

“ aren’t all men? “ she actually laughed at that. It was the kind of laugh that you couldn’t pinpoint if she was genuine or if she was being sarcastic.

“ you got that right “ she tugged a little harder on the thread and you dug your nails into her bicep again, muttering curses under your breath.

“ so he’s your scary guard dog huh? “

“ funny “ she deadpanned, grabbing a cloth from the table and wiping away at a trickle of blood “ I don’t need him for people to be scared of me “

“ I’m sure “ Tess simply gave you that look again and shuffled a little closer as she worked. Watching her was actually a pretty good distraction. And you felt quite stupid to realise your brain was actually trailing off to think about how attractive she was now that you were looking at her so up close.

There you were with a hole in your side and you were thinking about how good looking someone was.

But she was. She really was.

She was older than you, 40s maybe, but no one really looked their ages anymore. Her dark hair was speckled with greys, faint lines adorned the corners of her eyes. She had several cuts and scars adorning her face too but somehow you found that made her more appealing. Her lips were parted lightly as she focussed, brow furrowing and truly you were mesmerised.

“ take a picture it’ll last you longer “ your face burned as you realised you’d been caught very much staring at her.

“ what- i- sorry “ she huffed a laugh and grabbed at your hand holding the torch, positioning it back where she wanted it.

“ why did you help me? “ you asked in some attempt to change the subject. She simply shrugged, leaning forward and biting at the thread to cut it. It was embarrassing how it sent butterflies exploding in your stomach.

“ random dead body on the street will make those FEDRA dicks close that whole area down, probably blame it on fireflies. And I need that area of the city open. You’d have been a major pain in my ass if I’d left you there to die ” it didn’t feel like a genuine answer, which also made you think you weren’t about to get a genuine answer out of her at all. But then again you didn’t know her so how would you know? She was clearly very guarded though.

“ how’d you even end up there? Flashing ration cards around? “ you shrugged slightly and placed the torch down, grabbing the cloth to wipe away the blood on your lip.

“ I was just going home. Some bastards stole my ration cards from my pocket I wasn’t flashing anything around. It’s whatever they must have followed me from work. I have more cards at home. I’ve been picking up extra assignments “ Tess shook her head and put the needle and thread down on the table.

“ FEDRA are probably keeping it all to their fucking selves anyway. Never hear a solider complaining he’s hungry do you? “

You watched her as she grabbed the bottle of alcohol from the table and looked back down at your wound “ sorry. But this is gonna hurt too “ she didn’t give you much of a warning that time before she poured some of the alcohol directly onto the newly stitched wound, clamping a hand over your mouth already anticipating you calling out in pain. It felt as though she’d poured straight acid onto your skin, making you jolt in the chair and attempt to be quiet. Which you failed at miserably “ shh shh that’s it. There we go “ tears stung at your eyes and you took deep breaths “ nice and quiet. It’ll pass. Breathe through it “ Tess removed her hand after a few moments and took a moment to admire her handiwork, simply shrugging before looking away.

“ thank you “ you said in a shaky voice and accepted the bottle that Tess then handed you.

“ drink. Trust me. It’ll help “ you hesitated a moment and she raised a brow.

You took a drink just as a way to hide the blush creeping over your cheeks again.

“ yeah. Better “ you deadpanned and she gave you that look again and rolled her eyes.

“ keep drinking I can’t offer you anything for your face other than drink until you can’t feel it anymore. Tried and tested “ you watched her as she stood up and walked over to a small chest of drawers, reaching into her waistband and tossing the gun on top and then pulling off her shirt. She rummaged around in one of the drawers before pulling on a new one over her vest, then tossing a shirt over at you.

It was at that moment you realised just how indecent you were. Sat at a strangers table, jagged stitched wound on your side and only your bra covering your top half. In your hurried attempt to pull the button up on you tugged at your stitches, hissing in pain and hand flying to hold your wound.

“ don’t. Don’t touch it. Fuck sake “ she strode over and picked up the shirt, swatting at the hand that was hovering awkwardly over your wound “ arm up. Slowly. Or you’ll fuck up my work” she helped you into the shirt, hands brushing over your skin “ you can stay here tonight. Unless you want to go out there and get yourself arrested. But I’d rather you didn’t. It’d have been a waste of my whiskey “

“ I’m sure you’d find some more “ she raised her eyebrows and shrugged, pulling another one out of the drawer as if silently agreeing with you, before taking a seat back opposite you at the table. She unscrewed the cap, tossing it to the table and raising her bottle towards you

“ cheers “ you watched her take a big gulp as if it were water, slumping slightly in her chair.

“ I didn’t know they gave out whiskey on ration cards? “ she eyed you carefully as you spoke, taking another sip from your own bottle.

“ if you’re trying to get some information and run off to FEDRA, I’d highly advise against that “ your mind played back to the mention of pills. The stash of alcohol. The way she had managed to get someone as menacing as Joel to be quiet, to do as she’d asked.

You were clearly in the presence of a very dangerous person.

But surprisingly. You weren’t scared. At all. Maybe it was the alcohol. You didn’t know the last time you’d actually had a drink. And it was clearly now going straight to your head.

“ and why is that? “ she was still watching you, carefully. Eyes narrowed and inquisitive. You felt as though you were a prey in a stand off with its predator. A rabbit trying to escape a fox.

She leant forward, arms resting on her knees and neck of the bottle loosely hanging between her fingers.

“ you don’t want to know “ the air had shifted. You didn’t know why you were prodding the bear. She could kill you any second if she felt like it. She had a gin after all. But something in you wanted to push her buttons and see how far you could. Maybe it was because for once in years someone was paying some attention to you. And someone that looked like her. Someone that looked at you like she could pounce any second.

You liked it.

“ I do “ her eyes still hadn’t left you. Not even for a second. She was taking you in, every inch of you. Reading you. Analysing. It was intimidating you couldn’t lie. It was a challenge.

You didn’t know what you expected her to do. Or say. She simply nodded her head slightly and stood up, closing the small gap between your chairs in a single step. She placed the bottle down on the table and nudged your chin up with her fingers, making you look up at her.

Your breath caught in your throat and your head was suddenly clearer than ever. She didn’t say anything straight away, simply kept that prey eating look in her eyes. You could hear the blood rushing in your ears you almost feared she could hear it too.

“ you’re either really fuckin smart. Or really fuckin stupid. Which is it? “ her voice had dropped. Low and slow. You were the rabbit with its foot in the snare and she was the fox ready to take advantage of the vulnerability she’d stumbled upon. And you liked it. God you liked it “ I asked you a question “ her words were almost threatening but the hold she had on your face was a stark contrast. It was tender almost. Gentle.

“ figure it out “ she gave you another one of those breathy laughs, her lips tugging up into a smirk and nodding again.

“ be careful “ she let you go and stepped away. You let out the breath you’d been holding, but already missing her almost domineering presence in front of you “ you should get some rest” you watched her toss a blanket onto the sofa and then flick off the lamps, the room now only half illuminated by the bright lights that sat on the watch towers along the wall “ I doubt I’ll be here when you wake up “

“ important smuggler business? “ she didn’t grace you with an answer and simply got herself into bed. You made your way over to the couch and wondered if you’d actually get any sleep.

But somehow you did. And , just as she said, when you woke up she was gone.

[johaerys-writes]

Hello😆😆 I hope you're having a nice week! How does a WIP Wednesday sound, if it's not too much to ask?

Hey anon!! This week I've been working on the next chapter of As Fate Would Have it (aka the morning after 🙄) It’s close to being finished and should be up later this week!

“Good… morning,” Patroclus replies hoarsely. He sits up on the furs and accepts the cup of steaming tea Achilles offers him.

“Drink this. It will help with the…" He pauses, visibly struggling for words. "It will help,” he says at last.

Patroclus brings it to his lips; it’s just short of being scalding, but Patroclus is so parched that he doesn’t even mind. It is light yet soothing, sweetened a little with honey. A few sips of it are enough to clear his mind, ease some of the heaviness of his limbs. Patroclus downs almost half of it with a few gulps while Achilles watches him silently. It is several moments later that Patroclus realises that he’s still stark naked; he covers himself hastily, searching for his tunic in the furs and drawing it over his head.

“Thank you for the tea,” he mumbles when he is somewhat decent, giving Achilles back the cup.

“It was my honour to prepare it for you, illustrious son of Menoitius, dearest of companions," Achilles says, accepting the cup with both hands. He is sitting so very stiffly, and his words are stiffer yet. In the months they’ve spent on Pelion, Achilles has slowly but steadily stopped addressing him like he used to in the palace, choosing to be more with him instead. Patroclus secretly prefers that side of him; the formal greetings always made him nervous, and now, with Achilles’ impassive expression and hardly blinking eyes it makes him even more uneasy.

Achilles takes in a long, slow breath, his eerie eyes never shifting from Patroclus’ face.

“You shouldn’t have come last night.”

The words are spoken clearly and matter-of-factly, without a thread of emotion. Patroclus blinks, taken aback. “Excuse me?”

“You should not have come here,” Achilles repeats stonily. "You should never have come."

“I don’t understand.”

Achilles pauses, looking at him levelly. “Why did you come here, Patroclus?”

Patroclus lets out an incredulous huff. “Is that a serious question?” When Achilles doesn’t respond, only continues staring at him, Patroclus shakes his head. “I was looking for you. I was worried about you. You had been… acting strange all day, and then you stole away into the night without a word, without telling even Chiron where you were going. What did you expect me to do?”

“Did it not occur to you that I didn't tell anyone where I was going because I did not want to be found?” Achilles asks peevishly. “You had—no right. No right to come here.”

“Hold on— is this a joke? Are you joking?”

Achilles’ hands on his knees tighten into fists. His nostrils flare, a muscle playing by his temple when he locks his jaw.

“You asked me to stay here," Patroclus presses when Achilles doesn’t speak. "You were sobbing, begging me to stay. You wouldn’t let me go. I tried to leave, and you—”

“That’s not the point!” Achilles’ voice is sharp, a little shrill. His colour is high, a vivid blush touching his cheeks like a brilliant sunrise. He takes a shaky breath, composing himself. “I didn’t want you here. Didn't want you to— see me like this.”

Patroclus doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand any of it. He leans towards him, trying to peer into Achilles' eyes which are stubbornly cast away from him. “Why?" he asks softly. "What happened to you last night? You seemed… different.”

The crackling flames are his only answer. Achilles doesn’t meet Patroclus' gaze; he stares at the fire between them as if the cave is empty save for it. So long he stays silent that Patroclus thinks he won't speak at all.

"My mother calls it anthos," he says after a long while, so quietly Patroclus strains to hear him. "It means 'to bloom.' What you witnessed last night… that was me in the throes of it. I had no control over it. None at all."

[strqyr]

Thanks for finally convincing me to block you.

Anyone who has that much sympathy for a dumpster fire like Adam Taurus is someone I need to see less often.

Any other abusers you want to defend?

you know it kinda defeats the purpose of anon when i know who you are, right? might as well put your name on it lol. but since you're here brightening my day, lemme talk more about adam, sienna, and the white fang in general:

(fair warning: this will get critical.)

did you know that sienna never admonishes adam for killing few humans—they had a whole short made for him, if she did it would have come up, but all she does is praise him as an "extraordinary resource for this organization"—and that the white fang was executing sdc board members under her leadership? that she wanted humanity to fear the faunus, to know they demanded respect, which not only shows that blake fundamentally disagreed with her methods—"and the worst part was, it (sienna's methods of "violence where violence is necessary") was working. we were being treated like equals. but not out of respect... out of fear."—but is the dumbest, most macho way to go about things?

(trust me, i would know, i live next to russia.)

where sienna considered the line crossed was attacking the academies, because she believed it would start a war with humans that the white fang / the faunus couldn't win, which adam disagreed with, believing they could. that's their main difference, and there's nothing saying sienna wouldn't be fine with the attacks if she knew it wouldn't start a war or if she believed it was a war they could win.

"violence where violence is necessary" becomes incredibly flaky stance when your goal is to cause fear, ya know. i think there's a word for that, actually, especially when it's done for political cause. something about... causing terror? terrorist, maybe?

but sure. sienna "bringing a human to this location is grounds for execution" khan would definitely have problems with few humans dying during the targeted attacks she's all for. adam's definitely the only problem here, going off the path sienna set him for by... following in her footsteps. uh-huh.

one other thing about the adam short: there's a scene of sienna, adam, and ilia fighting against androids in some sdc place with blue lights and all despite the very obvious security breach happening in front of our eyes. but the moment the human security forces show up with their guns raised high and shooting at them right out the door, sienna and adam continuing the fight while ilia—the one who was redeemed—takes off her grimm (read: monster) mask, the lights turn red.

they're not being very subtle there. almost like the stance the show is taking isn't just against killing humans unnecessarily, but straight up the issue is the faunus fighting against their oppressors at all, and both sienna and adam crossed that line.

or, that's how it comes across, at least; this is a show that's partially build around colors, made by a company that also played lots of video games. they know what blue and red imply.

sorry you apparently can't feel an ounce of sympathy for a fictional character who was written as a child slave and branded on his face despite how he was written later in his life. admittedly, i find it weird and funny how you draw the line at me talking about adam in the same manner as i talk about cinder—well, not really. i haven't called adam "my bby <3" yet. guess i could start, though, just for you?—but i'm sure you have your own justifications and excuses ready for that.

i know you probably won't see this if your claims of blocking me are actually true, but who knows. maybe your friends will get it for you. maybe you continue to come back, clicking on that "show anyway" or whatever the button says when you click on a blog you've blocked to see if i've answered your little call for attention.

and sorry that nuanced takes on characters upset you. i know tumblr is the Reading Comprehension The Site™ but remember, in the words of blake belladonna: there's no such thing as pure evil :) (even when the writing sure does its best to vilify the white fang willing to fight their oppressors.)

[genopaint]

So many weeks to catch up on... Here's week 32...

As always you can follow me on twitter where they’re posted daily

And read more info on each of them below the cut (also idk if I've mentioned it before but just as an FYI if you click the names of the dragons in the read-more they'll take you to the dragon's individual posts if it got one of its own.)

Daily Dragon #217 - Marshogon

Large amphibious dragons that serve as mini islands in large swamps and marshes. Many plants and animals live on the grass that grows on their back. They eat algea and micro-organisms living in the water, so they dont attack anything on their back.

Animals on its back actually help protect it from parasites!! Another redraw... Kind of. This is more like a MASSIVE overhaul of this 2016 (i think) swamp dragon design. I couldn't recreate the log helmet in a way I like so I turned it into some kinda triceratops horn.

Daily Dragon #218 - Vulture Wyvern

Exactly what it says on the tin, these birds are MASSIVE to the point they've reached dragon status. Though they could be incredibly deadly if they attacked, they mostly eat dead and decayed animals specifically to avoid combat

Daily Dragon #219 - Sheeva

Watching Clementj64's Mortal Kombat Lore video! I love these videos and while I'm not done with this one yet (I did finish it between the original post and now, it was very good), I DID learn that Goro and Sheeva are part dragon??? Yeah that's good enough to draw them for this challenge I think!

I was gonna do Goro, and I know there's a full on Dragon King... but... Sheeva's redesign is so fucking hot... I just needed any excuse to draw it

Daily Dragon #220 - Light Green

It's been a hot minute since I've done another one of my endless amount of alt sonas. I've been thinking about drawing this weird little dinosaur... sooooooo... here she is!! what are you gonna do about it, huh???

'light green' is also just like, a joke concept little name I came up with now cause Idk what else to call her other than small dinosaur green

Daily Dragon #221 - Crashadon

These dragons have evolved to go a step further than just breathing fire, they breathe explosions! Concentrated energy breaths that release into HUGE explosions when they reach their targets! They are considered to be serious threats to nearby towns

This funny fella is a redraw of THIS funny fella from 2020 :)

Daily Dragon #222 - Salamence

Another dragon type AND another pseudo legendary! Salamence, despite being a pretty regular looking high-fantasy dragon with a great color scheme. Isn't a Pokemon I was really into until recently. It's growing on me a lot!

Daily Dragon #223 - Groundramon

Another dragon I knew I wanted to do from the! I only really became a full on Digimon fan last year after playing Cyber Sleuth, but Groundramon quickly became my favorite teammate and favorite Digimon I've seen so far :)

The only reason this one took me so long is actually the same reason Blue Eyes / Red Eyes did... They're kind of hard to draw! Digimon are incredibly detailed but that's what makes them so cool and edgy

[casspurrjoybell-33]

Unlikely Places - Chapter 29 - Part 2

*Warning Adult Content*

Chapter: 29 - Playing With Fire

Without saying a word or making direct eye contact with any of them I quietly excused myself, only taking the necessary moment to grab Cicero's exuberantly shaking body and hand him off to Branson to hold so I could get to the door peacefully.

If it was Pierce and I just knew it was going to be, I needed all my wits about me and Cicero's manners when greeting guests left a lot to be desired.

The silence behind me as I walked towards the door felt deafening and prickles of disquiet wormed their way into my mind.

Before I could stop myself, I darted a quick look back over my shoulder to find everyone just staring back at me, their food forgotten, the laughter gone.

The party atmosphere had completely disappeared.

My eyes landed on Percy.

They must have spoken volumes to him because without me saying a word that loveable spouse of my best friend gave me one of his jaunty winks and immediately clapped his hands to draw attention to himself and he launched into another story from his and Archer's honeymoon.

Branson, Noah, Mick, and Archer would be a captive audience at least until the story was told, giving me some time to answer the front door without their hawk-like stares drilling into my back.

Excited and fearful at the same time that it was in fact Pierce, I ran my sweaty palm down my thigh before grasping the door handle and turning the knob. I

pulled the door open and my eyes encountered a very familiar looking chest.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly raised them until they met Pierce's.

He had a slight smile on his face as he looked down at me but I could also see he was a bit tense.

It was a very un-Pierce-like stance.

He glanced back over his shoulder and I raised up on my toes to look over him to see what he was looking at.

It didn't take but a second for it to click.

There was more than just my car parked in the drive which meant I obviously had company and most likely who they were.

Though Pierce and I had talked about the guys and mostly cleared things up between us about them, he and I were both very aware that things weren't too clear to the guys.

Anything but considering the things Pierce had said and insinuated since meeting them.

My eyes connected with Pierce's again and I could see by the small grimace marring his flawless face, his thoughts were not far from my own.

Served him right, I thought with a lack of sympathy that surprised me.

I tried to hide the smile I was feeling pull at my face and only nodded at him, signaling to him that his thoughts were correct about who awaited him on the other side of my threshold.

"Enjoying this?" he murmured, evidently picking up on my humor at his expense.

A small blush tinted my skin but I held his look with my own.

"A little," I admitted.

Though his shoulders remained erect with tension, his eyes danced and a puff of laughter passed his lips as he looked down at me.

"Cheekier and cheekier," he commented softly.

I shrugged my shoulders and broke eye contact to glance down before gathering myself enough to look at him once again.

Going against my natural inclinations was hard but it was also fun.

Teasing Pierce, poking the proverbial bear, was becoming addictive.

"Want to come in?" was all I said but I tried to make my tone sound taunting and challenging as well as questioning.

The rumble of his chuckle reverberated throughout my body and my breath quickened as my heart raced.

My eyes focused on his lips and suddenly I was back at last night in the car and that kiss.

Heat crawled up my neck as the light tinge of pink in my face darkened even further as I recalled how he had felt and tasted.

"Playing with fire in more ways than one today, aren't you?" came a gruff whisper closer to my face than what it had been a few moments before.

I blinked and suddenly realized Pierce had stepped in a few inches closer and he was watching me with an intense look of fire and want.

The breath caught in my throat and I blinked rapidly feeling my heart pound harder, my body tensing.

Pierce quickly stepped back away from me.

The flame that had burned so brightly moments before was extinguished by concern and caring.

"Are you okay?" Pierce questioned.

It was only then I realized he thought I had been having an anxiety attack.

I wasn't brave enough nor was it the right time to admit what I had really been feeling.

I shifted my body and stance as subtly as I could and looked up at him as innocently as I could manage.

I couldn't prevent the flare of heat that continued to mark my cheeks and I hoped he just put it down to my usual blushing.

The last thing I wanted right now was for him to realize what had really just happened to me.

Not on my front door step.

Not with all my friends a few feet away.

Not before I had time to come to terms with this new side of myself and had a clue as to what to do about it. 

[amistytown]

The Brothers Comfort a Bullied MC

I started writing this thinking it would be something short and sweet I could finish in a day, and then it turned into this. MC remains gender neutral, and I currently don’t write for the dateables, but when I do I could always write a part II if people are interested. Nonetheless, I hope you enjoy it, anon, and thank you for the request! As always, I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors that may have gone unnoticed. Trigger warning for mentions of blood, violence, and physical and emotional bullying. Thank you to those who take the time to read my work; it’s greatly appreciated!

LUCIFER

Immediately notices you’re quieter than usual, face sullen and void of the beautiful smile Lucifer has grown accustomed to. He’s determined to figure out what’s troubling you, undeniably concerned for your wellbeing; you’re the exchange student, though, more importantly, you’re his human, and your happiness is his own. That night he calls you to his study, always willing to make time in his busy schedule to accommodate you, especially when his human is in need. Your eyes are dark and swollen, and your head is bowed as you enter; you look exceptionally fragile, his heart aching at the sight. Behind closed doors he doesn’t hesitate to pull you into his embrace, pressing a light kiss to your forehead while he runs his fingers through your hair; he can feel you relax against him, hands twisting in his shirt as you bury your face in his chest.

Bursting into tears, you cry in his arms, and he holds you close, gaze soft as he consoles you, gently rubbing your back and whispering words of comfort. You’re his priority, his pride and joy, and he won’t rest until he knows you’re okay, wanting to soothe your aching heart. Flames dance in the fireplace, casting the room in their golden glow and emanating a heat that dries your tears and warms you both body and soul. Lucifer cradles you to him in one of the chairs situated before the hearth, watching over you as you curl up in his lap. Patiently he waits for you to speak what’s on your mind, unburdening yourself of your worries, his anger quiet and cold once he learns of the demons tormenting you. They are foolish to bully the one he loves, and to do so on school grounds; they will certainly be punished for their crimes—he will see to it personally.

Lucifer reassures you will no longer endure such harassment, encouraging you to confide in him; there’s little you can do or say to bother the Avatar of Pride, and he wants to help when able, providing his undying support. Your mood lifts significantly, and his heart swells as you cup his cheeks to draw him into a kiss, your lips smiling against his and sweetening the moment. He won’t allow you to leave his side the remainder of the night, and you’re eager to remain in his company, lounging in his study while you wait for him to finish his work. Though his focus is elsewhere, and he decides to turn in early, carrying you to his room where he tucks you in, hugging you to him beneath the blankets. The next morning, he excuses you from your duties, ordering a day of rest and relaxation; you deserve it, after all.

MAMMON

The Avatar of Greed is attending class when he overhears a low-level demon taunting you, throwing insult after insult while you try to focus on your studies; though the longer you ignore them, the more they push back, your face falling as their words leave their mark on your heart. Mammon’s blood is boiling, and he’s out of his seat, towering over the demon in an instant, a hand wrapped around their throat. Lucifer intervenes, putting an end to the chaos, but Mammon is unapologetic, his elder brother’s lecturing doing little to quell the fire still raging beneath the surface. He’s your protector, and he won’t hesitate to defend you—the consequences be damned.

To say he’s worried about you is an understatement, he refuses to leave your side, determined to protect you at all costs. A lowly demon is harassing you? The Great Mammon will deal with them personally, and once he’s finished, they won’t think twice about hurting his human. He loves you, although it’s difficult for him to admit at times, but you’re his world, and he hates to see you upset. Words do hurt, he knows all too well, so he’ll show you how loved you are by holding your hand and pulling you into his warm embrace, allowing you to cry on his shoulder—anything for you. Your tears wet his jacket, body shaking as you sob, finally breaking down from days of bullying. He wishes he noticed sooner, but he’s here now and will take care of you.

As soon as school is over for the day, he’ll make certain you’re comfortable and help you unwind in the peace and quiet of your room; tell him what you want and it’s yours, no questions asked. He’ll order your favorite food, which you enjoy while watching a movie, finding solace in one another’s presence. When you smile for the first time that day he’s elated, appreciating how beautiful you are—heart, body, and soul—if anyone deserves happiness, it’s you. His arms encircle your waist, drawing you close, and you kiss his cheek in thanks before resting your head on his chest. The soft touch of your lips renders him speechless, his heart pounding as he breathes in your scent, sweet and heavenly. Once he composes himself, he returns the kiss with fervor, promising to always protect you.

LEVIATHAN

The downside to attending class online is he can’t see you throughout the day. After school he makes sure the two of you have plans, whether it’s playing videos games, watching anime, or simply enjoying each other’s company. He’s devastated when you cancel on him, but more concerned you’re feeling unwell; humans are fragile creatures, and he needs to take care of his Henry. Of course, those self-deprecating thoughts linger at the back of his mind, telling him you cancelled on purpose—who wants to waste their time on a gross otaku like him? However, he collects himself, dismissing them for your sake, and knocks on your bedroom door with trembling hands.

Light cascades from your room into the hall, his eyes widening when they meet yours, your gaze glassy and cheeks stained by your tears. For a moment he wonders if he is to blame, trying to recall everything he said and did since breakfast, to find an answer, only to confuse himself further. Yet you smile at him, anchoring him to reality, and he hates how it fails to reach your eyes. He can’t help enveloping you in his arms, forgetting how to breathe now that you’re so close, and he’s certain his heart is about to break as you begin to sob into his chest, clinging to him in desperation. Your cries hurt him dearly, and he wants to cry himself seeing you upset, but refrains, staying by your side to offer what support he can give.

In the privacy of his room, he’s extra attentive, hesitant but soft touches and worried glances in your direction while he wraps you up in his blankets, even allowing you to hold his Ruri-chan pillow for comfort. The tub is snug with the both of you inside, his face red and burning, though he’s glad you look much happier, safe and warm in his embrace. He puts on a lighthearted anime hoping it’ll lift your spirits further, the laugh that escapes you music to his ears. The episode ends, and you finally tell him the cause of your pain, opening your heart to him, his hold tightening when tears gather in your eyes once again. His insecurities are now forgotten, replaced by a wave of anger that consumes him, and he fights to keep his demonic aura at bay. A lowly demon dares to hurt you? He’ll make them rue the day they decided to torment his player 2. Until then he’ll let you know exactly how special you are, indulging you the rest of the night.

SATAN

Satan is browsing the books in the RAD library when the comfortable silence is unceremoniously shattered, dissolving into chaos in a matter of seconds. Angry shouts reverberate off the walls, forcing their way beneath his skin—warm, uncomfortable, yet addicting—setting him alight. He can feel the intensity of every word, his heart pounding, pulsing in his ears with each syllable, the Avatar of Wrath unable to deny he appreciates the beauty of the heated exchange unfolding before him. Although he considers himself a demon of knowledge, making a name for himself in the Devildom for his intellect and held to high standards, he’s not impervious to his sin. He’s irritated, his concentration lost, but a part of him enjoys the pandemonium, wanting to tempt them further into madness. A scream interrupts his thoughts, a pitiful sound, and his blood runs cold. He knows you, your voice, and to hear you cry out is enough to break his resolve.

A hand firmly closes around your throat, blood welling beneath clawed fingers, as you’re forced into a corner. The panic in your eyes fills him with an uncontrollable rage, and he yearns to rip the heart from the demon who threatens you, the very person he holds dear to his own. Wrath overpowers all rationale, and he doesn’t mind, your life greater than the image he’s meticulously cultivated over centuries. He lunges at the demon without warning, grip bruising as he wrenches them away and drives them into the nearest bookshelf, watching it topple over in a cloud of dust and debris. An eerie hush falls over the library, curious gazes on the fourth born, but he’s indifferent, dragging the wretched creature from the wreckage; a grin spreading across his face at their desperate pleas—they only fuel the fire raging within. However, their life is spared due to Lucifer’s interference; Satan’s sure he’s instilled enough fear in the demon’s mind to last an eternity.

The resulting lecture from Lucifer leaves Satan with a headache. He’s unrepentant, his wrath reduced to an ember, but it still smolders, hot and heavy in his chest. When he enters the House of Lamentation, he finds you waiting to throw your arms around him, and despite his anger, he melts against you, calmed by your presence—so sweet and inviting he could lose himself in your very embrace. You’re his saving grace, and he’ll protect you as fiercely as he loves you, hating to see you scared and vulnerable, especially at the mercy of another. Even now he can see the remnants of fear and taste the salt of your tears as he kisses your cheek, fingers ghosting over the dark bruises on your neck. There’s a twinge of anger, but also dread knowing another hurt you and how quickly they could have taken you from him. The familiar smell of books is soothing, the large stacks scattered about his room bathed in moonlight. You’re curled up in his bed, listening to him read aloud with your head on his shoulder, his free hand stroking idly through your hair. At that moment, you look content, smiling at him, and he can’t help leaning over to capture your lips in a kiss, glad he can bring you comfort during the darkest of nights.

ASMODEUS

After school, Asmodeus sees the exhaustion in your eyes and the lack of color in your face, your natural glow seeming to fade throughout the day. Avoiding his gaze, you wilt in his arms when he pulls you into his embrace, his heart aching with desire when you are resistant to his charms. You don’t look at him in adoration or hug him back as tightly, basking in his beauty and praising him while he kisses your loving smile from your lips. Instead, you stare at the ground, body tensing when he cups your cheek, and although you lean into his touch, tears spring forth, hot beneath his fingertips. He can hardly stomach seeing you so distraught, his darling human, helplessly watching you fall to pieces in front of him.

The halls are silent aside from your sobs as you cry into his shoulder, arms wrapped around his neck while he carries you up the stairs to his room, whispering words of love and comfort in the hope they’ll soothe the pain that bleeds to the very depths of your soul. He’s grateful you allow him to hold and console you, trusting him to care for you in a moment of vulnerability, clinging to him without fear and seeking out all he’s able to offer. Your tears stain his blouse, and his makeup is mussed, yet he pays no mind, rocking and hushing you until you’re unable to shed another, chest heaving with each strangled breath that escapes you. Placing a tender kiss on your forehead, he hums sweetly, angelic voice lulling you to sleep. He watches over you after tucking you into his bed, affectionately stroking your face. For now, you rest your weary head, and once you awake, he’ll figure out what’s troubling his poor human, hoping he can put your mind at ease.

Dinner is your responsibility tonight, but Asmodeus doesn’t dare wake you, stepping in on your behalf. His brothers are well fed, and he makes sure to prepare an extravagant meal for his love, happy to serve you in the comfort of his bed. In fact, he feeds you himself, and you laugh as he cheerily extends a spoonful in your direction, blessing him with your beautiful smile for the first time that day. Beneath the silken sheets, he lays beside you, and you curl around him, glancing at him shyly before thanking him with a light but sweet kiss he savors long after you’ve parted. Yet you still look pained, and he encourages you to confide in him, cradling your head to his chest. Your voice is strained, barely above a whisper, but he hears every word, blinking tears from his own eyes. How long did you endure such harassment at the hands of those demons—on RAD grounds no less—suffering all on your lonesome. He’s appalled, wishing he could have protected you and sad he could not, however, he’ll make it up to you; anyone who hurts you is better off dead anyway. From here on out, he’ll take greater care of his human, keeping you safe in his arms.

BEELZEBUB

Finally, lunchtime! Beelzebub is weighing his options as he makes a beeline for the cafeteria, the rumble of his stomach echoing loudly in the halls. Though all thoughts of food vanish when he turns the corner to find you on the ground, a group of low-level demons looming over your trembling form. They flee the second they notice the Avatar of Gluttony, reeking of fear. He considers following them, goaded by his anger, which rages within, hot and intense, pulling a feral growl from his throat. However, the sound of your cries reaches his ears, a somber melody that brings him to his knees. He kneels beside you, brows knit in concern, and gently wipes your tears away before catching you as you throw yourself into his embrace. The rest of the world no longer matters, only his human while he holds you in the now empty corridor, heart unbearably heavy.

Carefully, he lifts you off the floor into his arms, mindful of his strength as his holds you, your body feeling soft and warm and awfully fragile under his touch. Yet you lean against him, sighing into his shoulder and seeking comfort from him—a large, scary demon, one of the most powerful in the Devildom. He’s glad he’s able to protect you, but there are times he worries you’ll look at him differently, your eyes wide with worry like the demons’ who ran at the mere sight of him. Your gaze is loving, and you snuggle closer, thanking him; he feels a little lighter knowing you’re safe, and that you trust him to take care of you. The palms of your hands are scraped, blood drying to your skin—a reminder of what those demons did to you—and he presses a kiss to your fingers, vowing to teach them a lesson they surely won’t forget.

The emptiness of his stomach is agonizing, a pain that runs deep, but he desperately wants to stay with you, comforting his sweet human who needs him now more than ever. He’ll gladly miss lunch for you, putting you above his sin despite the influence it holds over him, and tending to your injuries. The school day passes by slowly, however, he keeps a watchful eye on you, your smile filling him with a happiness that helps him through the last of his classes. Afterwards, he offers to bring you to your favorite bakery; food always manages to cheer him up, and he thinks you deserve a treat. On the way home with bags of decadent desserts and pastries, he hums, reaching for your hand, which fits so perfectly in his own. Again, you smile at him, and he’s glad he’s found a place by your side, brightening your day and you his.

BELPHEGOR

The Avatar of Sloth awakes from a dreamless sleep, hating how cold and empty his bed feels without you beside him. In a daze, he wanders into the hall—pillow in hand—the thought of holding you tightly against him, soaking up your warmth, tempting him down the stairs. Most nights he finds himself sneaking into your room and slipping into your bed, your body seeking his out in the darkness and welcoming him into your embrace. He’s thankful you’ve allowed him into your heart, Belphegor cherishing the intimacy between you, a love he once considered a mere fantasy. Though he pauses outside your door with bated breath, listening to the melancholy rise and fall of the cries echoing in the corridor—your cries. 

Throwing the door open, he peers into the darkness to find you huddled beneath your blankets, eyes wet with tears as you glance up at him, clearly startled. Adrenaline rushes through his veins, hands shaking, and he swallows against the panic, slightly reassured you’re safe in bed, but the miserable look on your face is more than he can bear. You whisper his name, voice rough and shaky, your pain tangible. The mattress dips beneath him, and he pulls you into his lap, cradling you to him. His gentle gaze sweeps over you—his human who deserves all the love in the three realms—and he kisses your tears away, wishing to free you of your burdens. Sleep can wait. You’re far too precious to him, and he’ll do anything to see you smile again, helping you piece your heart back together even if it takes the rest of the night.

Time is endless with you in his arms, your cries fading into quiet sobs as you lean into his touch, relaxing under the loving caress of his hand on your cheek. You regard him hesitantly, unspoken words on the tip of your tongue, and he’s nothing but encouraging as he kisses your forehead down to the tip of your nose, earning him a small yet beautiful smile that vanishes all too soon. Belphegor is eerily quiet while he listens to you, sad you felt the need to keep this a secret—alone with your worries—angry at himself for not noticing sooner, and livid at the demons who foolishly hurt you, instilling you with such fear you dreaded school each morning; they’ll regret laying a finger on his human, and he knows he’ll enjoy their agonized screams when he gets his hands on them. Until then, he promises to love and protect you, watching over you as you fall into a peaceful sleep at his side.

Tag list: @luminari-mc​ @yukihaie​

[soulwillower]

cleaning the room • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader smut)

requested:  heyyy i love your work!! can i maybe request a Richie smut where their like in the middle of doing “it” but then someone calls the reader (maybe bev or eddie or sumn) and instead of stopping richie keeps going and so she has to continue the call and pretend like shes not in the middle of such unholy acts haha sorry if its too specific,, thank you!!!

warnings: swearing, smut, spitting, v light cum play, light light slapping (reader smacks richie bc theyre frustrated he was teasing them), unprotected sex, risky sex, talking on the phone w someone, use of the words whore/slut, degradation, this has literally no plot its all smut LOL

heyyy finally bback w a fic, i have awful writers block so this was all i could do. hope u guys like it

[ 18+ ]

1.8k words

♡

"richie," you purr, sighing with lust as your boyfriend's hands pull your hips harder towards his own, arching your back as his hand rises to gently push you down against the mattress. he hums, leaning down to kiss your lips hard, thrusting into you as your back rubs the sheets under you. 

richie leans back and his mouth opens to murmur something to you, but a ringing noise makes you jolt. both of you turn to look at your phone, which has lit up with the call from someone. richie sighs and you groan, arm reaching out to grope around for the phone as your other hand threads into richie's hair, tugging him as he slowly eases on his thrusts. 

"oh, god," you say, half moaning as richie's strokes slow, changing angles as he looks down at you with mischevious eyes. "it's eddie." you add, tossing your phone to the edge of the bed.

 richie hums, pulling out of you and grabbing the phone. you whine, looking at him, "no, please keep going, i can call him back later." you beg, desperate to feel richie again. richie raises his brows, "you know he'll just keep calling." 

you lean back, sighing because you know richie's right. "fuck you richie. fine." and then you snatch the phone, pressing the answer button. "hey, wh-what's up?" you ask, breathing slightly heavily. 

"hey, i was wondering what your plans are later. we need to get some supplies for the party." eddie says cheerfully, and you swallow. god, couldn't he have called any other time? at least this will be quick. 

you jolt but keep quiet as you feel richie's fingers gently run through your slick folds, thumb teasing your clit. you let out a short whine and gulp, "oh, uh, yeah i can-can hang out later, just not now-" you swallow. your face feels on fire, excited by the idea of possibly being caught. 

"you okay, y/n?" eddie asks genuinely, sounding concerned. you bite your lip so hard you think it may draw blood as you gasp, "yeah, just...not feeling good." you say, sharply inhaling as richie quietly chuckles. you send him a glare. 

"richie and i are c-cleaning his room and there's... it's hard work." you mutter breathlessly as you go up on one elbow, eyeing richie as he smirks, his hand trailing down to stroke his cock. you barely resist a moan as you watch him, biting your lip as you wish you could have him in your mouth. 

"okay..." eddie says absently, immediately dismissing your excuse as he launches into a conversation with you asking about what you're bringing to mike's surprise party on saturday. you're biting your lip as you fall back onto the mattress, heart racing as you think back to twenty seconds ago when richie's cock was inside you. "-and, you know, i think richie's bringing weed and some handles, but maybe if you still have your fake you could try and get us some-" 

but you accidentally cut eddie's sentence off with a sharp gasp tailed with a moan, because as you were listening to eddie, richie lined himself back up to your entrance and pushed straight into you.

your eyes are wide as you stare at richie, watching as he winks at you, finger going to his lips in a shush motion. you hate how immediate your shivers of lust flow through you, as richie starts to slowly thrust into you again. you roll your eyes but your face heats up as eddie's voice breaks the silence over the phone, "y/n, wh... -are you sure you're doing fine?" 

you pull your hand off your mouth, "yes! yes, i just-" you cough to cover up a moan as richie spits down onto your dripping cunt and starts to thrust harder, "i stubbed my fucking toe." richie's smirking darkly at your words, looking down at you as his large hand creeps up your body, splaying across your breasts and then to your neck, ghosting a squeeze before slipping a finger into your open, panting mouth. 

his other hand finds purchase on the skin of your thighs and he winks at you, moving his hips and hitting the perfect spot inside you. the pleasure you feel has your eyes falling back, toes curling. 

"oh. well make sure if it's bad that you ice it, because one time my ma stubbed her toe and she had to stay in bed for a week," and then eddie launches into a quick story and you hum along to make it seem like you're listening even though all you can think about is richie and how his hand is tweaking your nipples, splaying across your sternum, as you suck on his fingers. 

then he pulls his fingers out of your mouth and presses them to your clit, rubbing in a pattern that has you seeing stars. 

"-wait, you said you're with richie?" eddie asks and you cough, throat caught after having richie's hand on it, "yes, he's- he’s right here." you say breathlessly. 

"can you let me ask him something?" 

your eyes widen and you gasp a bit, making eye contact with richie. "s-sure, here he is."  richie's giddy face as he grabs the phone from you makes you nervous, but you bite your lip as he mutters, "hey, eds." 

it's quiet for a bit as eddie's voice drawls along on the other line and suddenly richie's pushing your legs up towards your shoulders and speeding up his thrusts, the deep angle almost making you scream in pleasure. his hand falls over your mouth, keeping you quiet as he leans over you, pumping into you and making tears of pleasure form in the corner of your eyes. 

richie mutters, “mhm? yeah, yeah.” to eddie, but the sultry way he’s staring at you and the way your nails are raking down his back make you wonder if the words are also for you. 

"yeah, she's helping me out, she's always so good like that." richie says, voice shockingly even for the way that he's fucking you into your mattress. and yeah, that definitely is for you. 

 the desperation and pleasure creep up on you alarmingly quick and you can't help the whimpers that quietly escape you - you thank god for the loud fan in your room to cover your noises. 

richie hums to eddie a few more times, then he slaps your thigh gently as you try to close your legs from the pleasure, knowing when you cum you won't be able to keep quiet. it makes you feel even closer, though. "yeah, eds, i can do that. now listen, i got something important to finish off here so i'm going to give you back to my girl." 

you bite your lip, feeling warm as you squirm under richie's touch, hands shakily taking the phone back from him and then richie’s kneeling above you, fucking you down into the mattress and filling you up fully. "eddie," you gasp, "i also have to go, i'll - i'll call you later?" you say, trying your hardest to hold off your orgasm as richie spits on your chest, licking and biting and leaving a love bite in the same spot as he thrusts hard into you. 

"sure, bye y/n!" eddie chirps.

and then the second your finger presses the off button you're a begging mess, eyes screwing shut as you reach up to grip richie's neck. his hands push your knees up towards your head, hitting a spot that has you clenching around him, legs shaking as your chest stutters.

 "please, richie, god, i'm going to kill you for that." you hiss, causing him to grin, "i fucking hate you, i hate you." you mutter, smacking his cheek lightly. the grin after you leave the smack makes you even closer to the edge, and his hands grip your tits as he leans towards your ear. 

his strokes are hitting you deep and hotly as he chuckles, "you liked it. i saw it in your face. pathetic desperation. i can feel it." he whispers against your clammy skin, his fingers brushing against your slick heat as he mutters. your cheeks are hot in embarrassment, and you whimper in need. 

you bite your lip hard, resisting a moan as a sharp cry falls from your lips, shaking as you beg, "richie, just - please, let me cum. please." 

"you're so pretty when you beg, look at you. perfect little whore, talkin' on the phone to my best friend while i fuck you." he mutters, hand caressing your burning cheek as you whimper. "all mine, so eager and willing to do whatever i want."  

you nod, "yes, i'm yours, just - please, please." you whimper. "please say i can cum."

he smiles as he kisses your nose, "would you do whatever i want?” 

you stutter an exhale, “yes! fuck, richie, yes, yes i would. i’m yours.” 

he smiles, “cum, then." you do after the next three thrusts, shaking and gasping and calling richie's name. the euphoria rushes through your body and makes your eyes roll back, chest rising and falling as richie rides you through your high. 

only a minute later, richie pulls out of you, hand moving to pump himself. "my perfect slut." he mutters as you sit up slightly on shaky elbows, tongue out and mouth open as you pant, richie's hand moving in quick movements as he chases his own high. then he's grabbing your neck and pulling you toward him, moans leaving his lips as he cums in spurts onto your open tongue and down your chin, a bit dripping onto your chest. his thumb caresses you, opening your mouth wider and smearing his cum on your lips, wiping it from your tits and slapping them lightly, pinching your nipples and making you grin up at him. 

and his chest is heaving as he smiles down at you, shaking his head as you swallow his cum, "christ, you're perfect doll." you tug his arms so that he falls down onto you and you're both chuckling as you become a tangled mess of limbs and beating hearts and blushy cheeks, sticky bodies cuddling close. 

"he's going to find out." you say after a few seconds. richie hums, "what makes you say that, sugar? it's not like you were all 'richie, fuck me harder, please, yes!' while you were on the phone. that was only after." he teases, and you smack his chest lightly, "shut the fuck up, richie. i hate you." you say through a laugh. he's laughing too as he pulls you even closer, kissing your hairline, "i love you so much, y/n." he says, smiling giddily. 

you pull his chin to you, kissing him sweetly. "i love you too, richie. but eddie's going to your place later, he's going to see that we didn't clean the room." 

richie laughs, shrugging as he runs a hand through his messy curls, "let 'em guess. it's funnier that way." and then he's kissing you, rolling on top of you and tickling your sides as you scream and squeal. 

tag list:  @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings  @stenbrozier  @sft-core @clownsloveyou  @moon-shine-baby  @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @chl0bee  @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @groovybimbo @deepestofwaters @unfortu-nate-ly  @sassy-uris @loverloserrr @hauntingkaspbrak @soph-ec @hockslutter @babytortie  @decafcoffeew @etaerealboy

[call-me-aesthetic]

If Twisted Wonderland was an American Public School

WARNING: There are some slight sensitive topics that are featured in here! Reader discretion is advised!

Part 2 can be found here

Heartslabyul

Riddle Rosehearts:

- That one preppy girl who takes all honors and AP classes 😑

- Wants everyone to know that he’s becoming a doctor one day for his strict parents or he’ll dishonor the family

- Reminds the teacher about homework, knowing well that he’ll get slander for it

- Complains about how he got a 90 on his test or a B on his report card, a try hard much?

- Wears a cardigan with thicc but cute glasses since he’s one of those people with can’t see shit on the board so he has to move to the front of the class

Ace Trappola:

- The SoundCloud rapper, that’s it

- “Wanna listen to my mixtape? It’s pretty fire, my guy.” 😩🔥

- You will not miss him BLASTING out some song on his Bluetooth speaker, that shit be echoing through the hallways

- Tells you to stop what you’re doing only for him to either sing horribly or do a backflip, thinking that he’s so cool

- Wears a Supreme jacket with AirPods and waves on his head

Deuce Spade:

- Assuming that he’s still a delinquent, he’s that kid with the most fucked up school record

- Not much of a bully but will still talk shit to your face without caring, might even throw stuff at you during a lesson and you would be the one getting in trouble instead of him 🗿

- If he ever gets mad, it would be overdramatic like kicking the desks, punching the lockers, or walking out of the classroom unannounced and everyone would look at each other wondering wtf happened

- Covers the entire desks with drawings of skulls and those “s” if you know what I mean

- Wears Champion hoodies, wants you to know that he’s broke and rich at the same time

Trey Clover:

- The guy that’s not really popular but everyone knows him since he’s in all their classes

- Most people might have a crush on him because he’s REALLY nice 😳👉👈

- Gives off “older brother” vibes based on the way he looks and acts, like offering you a ride home if you beg ask nicely

- Secretly bakes creme brulee but doesn’t want to mess with the flow so he sticks to the status quo

- Wears the school’s hoodie just because he thinks it looks good on him, and the fact that he doesn’t know what else to wear

Cater Diamond:

- Hot Cheetos girl 🥵

- Has a whole buffet of food in his backpack and will not hesitate to eat them during a lesson, no sharing either sorry

- Excuses himself to the bathroom or full on skips class just to film a Tiktok

- Has about 100 followers on Instagram Magicam and brags about how he’s famous

- Wears a Thrasher hoodie with large hoop earrings and his hair in a bun

Savanaclaw

Leona Kingscholar:

- The kid who flunked their freshman year that also sort of vibes with new classmates

- Always gets mistaken as a teacher by people since he looks and sounds old

- Knows the lessons but still fails them anyways, didn’t really give a damn either 🙄

- Captain of every sports club you can think of, never actually plays but has a lot of knowledge on them

- Wears the school’s letterman from years ago since it used to be his brother’s and that he’s too lazy to buy a new one

Ruggie Bucchi:

- That one kid who NEVER has money for the book fair or any other school event

- Always has to ask his classmates for some cash

- If he somehow does, then he’s one of those kids who buys Diary of the Wimpy Kid or the World Record books

- If he’s feeling cheap, he’ll buy the “cool stuff” like the chocolate scented calculator or fruit snacks 😭

- Wears oversized hoodies and basketball shorts that are clearly hand-me-downs

Jack Howl:

- That one athletic kid who’s both scary good and competitive when it comes to school games like football or soccer

- Literally the best player on his team and without him, they’re trash as hell 💀

- Tries his absolute best to support his teammates without yelling at them for how dumb they are

- “KICK THE FUCKING BALL! DO YOUR LEGS EVEN WORK?!”

- Wears the school’s jersey just to show off his “school spirit”

Octavinelle

Azul Ashengrotto:

- The kid who sell snacks for “charity” but everyone knows he’s keeping the money to himself

- If you don’t have cash or try to negotiate with him, the only thing he’ll do is raise the price up

- “What do you mean you don’t have ten bucks? I can see it in your pocket.”

- Just bring nothing with you, he’ll doing anything to steal your stuff 🤭

- Wears a collar shirt with a tie and khakis that have pockets to keep his glasses and money in

Jade Leech:

- The kid who puts on a goody two shoes facade but is actually a stoner

- Only does “safe” drugs like vape but occasionally smokes weed, mostly in the bathroom or behind the school 🌬

- Can play it off and hide the scent when he’s high, teachers never suspect anything from him

- No one really cares to stop him unless he gets caught or something idk

- Wears clothing that either makes him look like a businessman or a junky, there’s nothing in between

Floyd Leech:

- The kid that’s plays basketball or volleyball just because he’s hella tall, and is actually good at the sports but doesn’t put much effort into them

- Always stays behind after gym, even though the teacher tries to make him leave for his next class 😬

- “I swear after this one shot, I’ll go to class.” *He never made that shot*

- Will jump you no matter who or where you are, and will get angry if you step on his new shoes

- Wears the jersey of any famous team with the latest pair of Jordan sneakers

Scarabia

Kalim Al Asim:

- VSCO girl at best, don’t lie to me now 🤡

- The only words he knows are “And I oop– sksksk.” and “Save the turtles.”

- Walks during a track meet while everyone else is running and sweating hard, the teacher doesn’t care either

- Doesn’t really do anything in gym but talks to his classmates and stands near the water fountain to refill his Hydro flask

- Wears tie dye shirts with cute scrunchies

Jamil Viper:

- That one quiet kid who everybody thinks is a serial killer but he’s actually not, I swear

- He just wants school to be over and spend the rest of his summer relaxing 😔

- Although he shouldn’t abuse his “power,” he‘ll move his hands in his pockets or backpack to make it look like he’s about to pull a weapon out.

- “Chill, I’m just grabbing a pencil.” *Everyone in the class started crying*

- Wears dark colored hoodies that intimidates people but are actually comfy

Pomefiore

Vil Schoenheit:

- The baddie popular girl 😌💅✨

- Arrives to school late with a Starbucks in hand from his local Target

- Fixes himself every 5 seconds like reapplying his lipgloss or spraying Bath and Body Works cherry blossom perfume

- Uses acrylic nails and long hair extensions as weapons during a cat fight

- Wears a crop top with ripped jeans and those clout sunglasses

Rook Hunt:

- That creepy guy in the hallways who tries to get your attention, even if you don’t know him

- Scares people when he says, “Ayo, where my hug at?” 🥶💯

- Uses at least 10 cans of Axe body spray a week after gym class, which stinks up the locker rooms

- Waves at you if he passes your class, even walking into the room just to say hi

- Wears literally anything but always include a hat

Epel Felmier:

- The artist girl who just wants to be alone 🧑‍🎨

- Purposely draws in front of you but pretends like you’re not looking

- If you complement him, he’ll just brush it off and proceeds to diss himself

- “Thanks but I’m not THAT good at drawing, teehee.” *Insert Radio Rebel face*

- Wears a hoodie or a cardigan with big pockets to put his art supplies in

Ignihyde

Idia Shroud:

- I don’t even need to tell you who he is, y’all already know ahaha 🥴

- Sneaks a whole PlayStation in his backpack so he can play with it during lunch

- Is on his phone 24/7 even in class to the point where teachers don’t care anymore

- Tries to get people into anime but only to little success

- Wears a shirt of any anime character or that damn ahegao hoodie, girl bye

Ortho Shroud:

- The nerdy kid who’s known for destroying others at many games

- Plays classics like D&D, Yugioh, Pokémon, the whole shabang

- Daily Beyblade battles during recess with everyone surrounding him, the menacing aura radiates off of him

- Will steal your things if you lose to him but gives it back a week later cuz he’s sweet 🥰

- Wears light up Sketchers shoes and those Minecraft shirts you find at Old Navy

Diasomnia

Malleus Draconia:

- The theatre kid who also goes to band practice, change my mind 👁👄👁

- Takes his role seriously when it comes to school plays and concerts, even if he gets casted as a damn tree or doesn’t go solo

- Remembers the songs and their lyrics to any musical you name, a really good singer at that too

- Plays almost every instrument, you definitely know this since you can hear him down the hallways during a test

- Wears a white button up shirt, black pants with fancy dress shoes, and top it all off with a fricking Rolex watch

Lilia Vanrouge:

- The weird guy who pranks people and vandalizes school property in every way possible

- If you ever get a textbook with a message that tells you to go to a certain page only for you to found a picture of a dick, yeah that was him 😒

- When using a Chromebook, he’ll leave a tab open on YouTube so when the next person uses it, pray that your ears will still work by tomorrow

- During lunch, he is a literal DEMON that mixes milk with chicken nuggets together and having the audacity to eat it too

- Wears an oversized raincoat or a windbreaker but idk wtf kind of things he has hiding underneath

Silver:

- That guy in class who consumes Monster energy drinks and falls asleep 99% of the time but somehow manages to pass the class 🤷

- Whenever he’s awake, he’ll talk to the teachers since he’s basically friends with them for some reason

- Writes his name out of boredom on any desk you sit on but in different places, sometimes around the corners or the sides

- Has a sixth sense because he’ll wake up if you try to draw on his face and if you did get something on him, it’s on sight

- Wears those colorful hoodies that zips all the way up to cover his face with a matching backpack, it’s pretty cool ngl

Sebek Zigvolt:

- That kid who literally knows everything about historical wars and will show it off during class

- Also has knowledge on weaponry, which has people questioning him but he’s just very dedicated on serving his country and people

- Knows how to fight and defend himself from a bitch since he spent his summer at a military boot camp, put respect on my man’s name 😤

- Honestly a great partner for a group project, actually does the given work but not the whole thing for you

- Wears anything that has camo pattern and chunky combat boots

I only made this because me and my friends were talking about our school memories so yeah. This is based from my experience so they might not be exactly accurate. Might even be a part two if you want.