#you can do that. you can circle around your prey and corner them and terrify them before you kill them

[thymeofarrival]

Gem’s bloodlust is genuinely scary and unsettling and I adore it and her so much

… I hit tag limit on this and I’m not even close to done spilling my thoughts in the tags so I’m going to post so I can copy my tags into real text and keep writing them

[cryptidghostgirl]

hiii can i request a silly little scene i have in my head? ok so!

alastor x wife! reader- theyve been together since they were alive, legit partners in crime they both encouraged eachother to kill and when they reunited in hell after around 8 years they were independent once again UNTIL They got in trouble with Lilith and she took reader to be like her slave until Alastor finished helping Charie with her dream (until he helped prove that demons can be redeemed) so they didnt see each other for another 7 years (his absence)

And all throughout the first season hes like “I miss my wife, Husk. I miss her a lot” (while drunk-) like that one sonic dub meme and starts shaping his shadow creature into reader and talking to it and everyone is like “m yep he’s officially lost it.”

BUT then Sir Pentious is redeemed and Lilith sees and shes like “damn :/“ and send reader to the new hotel via portal and reader just. falls on the ground in front of the big entrance and everyone hears it and they rush out and Alastor is quiet, wide eyed and reader goes smth like “i know- i shouldnt have accepted it in your name but-“ blah blah she rambles on about it and Alastor just goes “Youre as beautiful as the day I los you.” LIKE THAT HEARYBREAKING SCENE FROM HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON 2 ;-; and everyone reacts in their own way

I REALLY NEED THIS BUT I LACK THE ABILITIES TO DO IT HEEELP (love u)

A/N oh bestie,, i got you. I was actually planning on something similar where Alastor was getting drunk at a bar and talking about the love of his life (I'm still gonna write that one too but I really like this prompt!!) You guys really come up with the best requests, please keep sending them in.

Fuel and the Fire (Alastor x Wife!Partner-in-Crime!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: ANGST also bad words (idk why i wrote the warnings like this). Also Angel Dust is in this one and I love him but he is a warning on his own.

Word Count: 2,392

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

Alastor and Y/n, partners in crime, the fuel and the fire. On a first glance, it would be assumed she was his fuel, the coal and dry leaves he fed himself by. Once anyone got to know them -- and god, what trouble a person was in if they got to know them -- they quickly realized it was the other way around.

Hand in hand from day one, from childhood. Running from the cops, washing the blood off one another's faces. In the living world and life after death, nothing could tear them apart. He was the soil she planted herself in, he was her rock and Y/n? Well she was Alastor's everything. He'd do anything at all for her, all she had to do was ask.

For a decade, they terrified the living world. They were the reason to double check the lock on the door before bed, they were the ominous shadow at the corner. When cold death wrapped them in his reckless grasp, they turned their terror on Hell.

The pair made a name for themselves quickly, filling up the airwaves and making waves in the underworld. For generations, they reigned supreme. For generations, they knew no fear. Then one day, they simply disappeared.

When Alastor reappeared on the streets seven years later without his shadow, the town was alight with gossip. No one knew where he had been, where she still was, or why he had returned but Alastor quickly rebuilt his operation, setting up shop at Lucifer's daughter's Hazbin Hotel along with several of the souls he owned.

The hotel's other residents and workers were distrustful of the man, to say the least. He was shifty, wore a constant smile, and rumors circled around him like birds of prey. That was until about three months into his stay, at least.

Angel hadn't meant to eavesdrop. He'd been coming down to the bar for a drink and a rant of his own when he'd heard the familiar, crackling voice of the Hotel's host.

"I just... I miss her so much, Husk."

He sounded sad, utterly dejected. Angel crouched down on the staircase, hiding his slim body behind one of the ornate posts supporting the railing.

"You keep saying that but do nothing to go find her. She disappeared the same time as you, you know." came Husk's gruff reply.

"I know she did."

"You keep saying that, acting like you know something. Admit it: you don't know shit, Alastor."

Alastor's radio waves faltered, squeaking slightly. Angel tensed in terror, wondering if he'd been found out. This was clearly a private conversation, and the Radio Demon was testy at the best of times. Right now he seemed positively furious.

"Don't test me, Husk." Alastor said after a moment, breaking the tense silence, "She... we both got roped into something. I am doing my part, she is doing hers."

Angel straightened himself up, deciding it was high time he entered the room. He still wanted that drink, after all. He let his feet fall heavily on the stairs, alerting the others to his presence. Husk turned toward the sound, meeting Angel's eyes as he entered the bar. Alastor, on the other hand, kept his back to the spider demon.

Taking a seat beside Alastor, Husk immediately poured Angel a drink and slid it across the counter towards him.

"So, tough night, Smiles?" Angel asked, turning to Alastor who downed the rest of his drink in a single gulp.

"I don't know what you're talking about, my good fellow." Alastor hummed in response.

There was a threat in his voice, but Angel could tell the demon's heart wasn't in it. Everything was just, odd.

"Yeah... sure..." Angel scoffed, taking a sip of his own drink.

"Radio man was crying to me about his wife five seconds ago." Husk grumbled and Angel's eyes went wide.

"You have a wife?" he asked, turning back to Alastor, "I mean, I get it. I'm in to the whole 'tall dark and creepy' thing too but, you care about someone? I don’t know if I can see it.”

Alastor's eyes narrowed as he turned on Husk. The cat demon rolled his eyes in a brazen display of disrespect. He knew his master well, knew this was the only thing he had any leverage with the man on. With a deep breath, Alastor placed his hands firmly on the bar top and pulled himself to his feet. Not saying another word, he disappeared into his shadows.

That had been the first odd occurrence. Of course Angel had told Charlie and Charlie had told everyone, had even approached Alastor about it. The Radio Demon brushed it all off with skill and for a while, things were quiet.

About a month later, the second strange thing began happening. Alastor had always had a certain sway over shadows, everyone knew that. However, he very rarely used them, brought them out if it wasn't to hide him or take him where he needed to be. Then, suddenly, one began to follow him.

"Uh, Alastor?" Charlie had timidly approached him the first time she saw this happening.

"Yes, Charlie my dear?" Alastor asked, turning to face her as he tossed his microphone in the air, catching it neatly in the center of the stand.

"Well, we were just wondering if everything was... okay?" she asked, her hands behind her back and a pointed gaze on the shadow.

"If everything..." Alastor trailed off, following the path of Charlie's gaze and realizing what was going on, "No, no my dear. Everything is quite all right, quite alright indeed."

"Well, okay... If you say so." Charlie had relented after a few moments, unsure of what else to do.

Eventually, the members of the Hazbin Hotel grew used to the shadows, they too slipped out of their minds. Overcome with impending doom of the extermination just a month away, Alastor's strange behavior was no longer a priority.

That had been until the third odd occurrence came into being. It was Sir Pentious who had noticed it first, drawing it to the group's attention as Alastor walked through the lobby and past the group doing trust exercises there on his way to some meeting or another with the other overlords.

"Sir Pentious?" Charlie had called, trying to bring him back to earth as he watched the place Alastor had occupied, "Sir Pentious?"

"Pentious!" Vaggie yelled and his head snapped to her, "You're not coming up with some new plan to attack Alastor, are you?"

"No!" he quickly exclaimed, waving his hands frantically in the air, "Not at all just..."

"What?" Vaggie asked through gritted teeth, advancing a step forward, her spear in hand.

"It's just... doesn't that shadow Alastor has had following him well.... doesn't it kind of look like a woman?"

Husk broke out into wild laughter while Angel widened his eyes.

"Oh, he's definitely lost it now." Husk exclaimed as he calmed himself, clutching his stomach, "If I knew Y/n was the secret to breaking him down, I woulda done something about it years ago."

"No you wouldn't have, ya big talker." Angel teased, elbowing the cat demon lightly.

"Y/n?" Sir Pentious asked.

"Alastor's wife. That was her name." Husk replied.

"Did you know her?" Charlie asked.

Alastor had left the hotel, the threat that had held their questions at bay for months was gone and the topic was right. Husk nodded.

"So, what's she like?" Angel asked suggestively, "Is she more of a dom? Does deer boy like to get dicked down by his lady?"

"Gross." Charlie shook her head, her hands to her temples, "I do not want to know that."

"She's a good kid." Husk said after a moment, "She's nice..."

He trailed off.

"But?" Vaggie prompted, sensing there was more that he wanted to say.

Husk sighed.

"If you think Alastor is trouble, she's a fucking house fire set for the insurance money."

"So probably not interested in being a guest." Charlie dejectedly stated.

Husk shrugged.

"You never know. It has been seven years since anyone has seen her. Alastor allegedly knows where she's at but, he hasn't gone after her. Just keeps whining to me about it so, I don't know. Maybe she's changed. I doubt it though. Sweet as a pea, sharp as a knife."

Charlie had never felt such relief as when she learned Alastor had not died in the chaos of the battle. The hotel was destroyed, heaven was pissed, Sir Pentious had died but, at least he was alright. They rebuilt the hotel, Alastor's same shadow of a woman trailing after him wherever he went. After about a week, thanks to all the angelic and demonic powers involved in the construction, the new Hotel was finished.

It was just as they put the finishing touches on the place, hung the portrait of Sir Pentious they'd commissioned above the fire place, that a portal opened in the lobby. Everyone tensed, banding together behind Charlie and Alastor. Angels were coming, they were sure of it.

A crash echoed from the other side, a sharp yell and then something tumbled through the portal. With a flash, the portal disappeared behind the shape of a person huddled on the floor. She coughed violently.

Alastor's eyes went wide. Everyone else was too distracted to notice, but if they'd have been paying attention, they would have seen his shadow disappear.

The girl was filthy, her clothes torn and her hair tangled. She let out another, sharp cough before slowly lifting her head. Alastor took a trembling step forward.

"Y/n?" he asked, his voice soft in disbeleif.

A smile, wide and sharp, split the woman's bruised face in two.

"Hey hun, I'm home."

In a flash, he was at her side, helping her to her feet, checking her for wounds.

"Jesus, Y/n." he sighed, "You're a mess."

"I know."

"Y/n-"

"I know. I shouldn't have done it, you don't need to lecture me. I didn't have a choice. It was you or me, Al. I couldn't... I can't... I had to. You've gotta understand."

"Sweetheart-"

Y/n cut him off again, her speech a single, constant, stressed-out stream.

"It was stupid, I know. I know. I really do but, she gave me the option and I couldn't say no cause then if I said no you'd really be the one in trouble a-"

Alastor raised a hand gently to her cheek and Y/n's words caught in her throat. She looked up at him, meeting his eyes at last.

"You're as beautiful as the day I lost you."

His voice was soft, so quiet the others could barely hear him. Y/n's cheeks flushed a bright pink. Her hands found the lapels of his jacket, holding them lightly.

"I.." she stuttered, her mind racing.

With a sigh and a slight shake of her head, she gave up in the search for words and buried herself in his chest. Alastor wrapped his arms around Y/n, pressing her tightly into his frame.

"God, I missed you." she said, her voice muffled by the fabric.

Alastor pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

"I love you." she continued, "I'm so sorry."

Alastor pulled her off of him, leaning down the slightest bit so they were eye to eye. Y/n, wiped a stray tear away, letting out a slight, sad laugh. Alastor's eyes traversed her face, caressing every crevasse.

"I'm so glad your alright but, I don't understand." he said at last, "How are you back? The deal..."

Y/n nodded and Alastor's eyes went wider still. Leaning on Alastor's shoulder for support, she turned her eyes onto the rest of the group.

"You must be Charlie." she hummed softly, meeting the young demon's gaze.

Taking a deep breath, Charlie stepped forward and nodded.

"Yes, I am. I run the Hazbin Hotel, which is where you are, to help rehabilitate sinners."

"I know." Y/n nodded, her voice quavering slightly, "I've heard so much about you. You... my dear, it worked."

"I- what?" every other question died in Charlie's throat, shock shot through her body like a bullet.

"It worked." Y/n confirmed, "You did it. I had a deal, a deal which Alastor went to your side to get me out of. If you succeeded in redeeming a soul with his aid, I would be free. And here I am."

"Here you are." Alastor repeated, spinning Y/n to face him once again.

She wobbled unsteadily on her feet. Catching sight of this along with the numerous wounds all over her body, Alastor scooped Y/n up into his arms like he did when they had first been married, when they had crossed the first threshold together. Y/n looped her arms around his neck, exhaustion seeping in with the relief as she let her head fall on his chest.

"Vaggie..." Charlie began as she turned to her girlfriend, "you don't think..."

"Pentious?" Vaggie asked and Charlie nodded.

"It's gotta be." Angel confirmed.

"You did good, kid." Husk smiled, patting Charlie on the back.

Y/n raised her head at the sound of a familiar voice, her eyes opening.

"Husker?" she asked with a smile.

The cat demon stepped forward, bowing slightly.

"Husker! I-"

"Enough of that, my love." Alastor cut her off, tapping her nose gently, "You need a shower and some rest. You can meet everyone in the morning."

Y/n crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes as she looked up at her husband.

"Promise?"

"Yes, I promise." he sighed.

"Does that mean you're staying?" Charlie asked tentatively and the couple turned to her.

"Whatever the little lady desires." Alastor stated, looking back down at his wife in a lovestruck daze.

"Yes, Charlie. We're staying." Y/n laughed, "Things need to start changing around here and I don't see anyone else doing a god damn thing to make that happen except for you."

"I.." Charlie was speechless, the kindness this fear inspiring woman was directing towards her, having never met her before. What Husk had said made sense, she smiled, "Thank you. I don't know what you did, but that you both so much."

"Anything for my favorite girl." Alastor kissed Y/n softly.

"Oh, get a room." Angel scoffed, rolling his eyes.

[sh1-n0bu]

♡︎ 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚? ♡︎

anon asked: (I don't even play genshin Imfao help)

1 am a enjoyer of many of the hot men in genshin but just, imagins pantalone slowly losing himself to my the readers dominance just- AGH I can't even at the thought of him suddenly being pinned up against the wall, gently being suffocated while he just plays along with it

Please I'm begging you, I need sub!pantalone who is used to dominating (but gladly takes the role of submissive with a smile

characters: sub!pantalone x nb!dom!reader

warnings: choking, degrading, dry humping, finger sucking (is that even smt that needs warnings??), thigh riding, begging, not entirely smut like my other filths but is incredibly suggestive, reader is a harbinger!!

notes: i literally accidentally posted the small draft of this req yesterday and panicked lol. june don’t you dare snitch on me

the 9th of the fatui harbingers, regrator and the 10th of the fatui harbingers, bloodhound are both terrifying individuals. one is powerful due to his public fame and recognition alongside the pure mountain of mora he has on his name while the other is a monster on the battlefield and in tracking down people.

yes, both are influential and overpowering in their own ways. sadly they just can’t seem to get along.

the fatui harbingers at least respect each other and hold decent conversations among themselves no matter the ranks, position or how they wish to do their work. that however, does not seem to be the same for the 9th and 10th.

if a room has both the regrator and bloodhound inside then soon enough, a verbal battle is bound to happen. sly remarks, amused hums and harsh threats cutting through the air like a knife through butter.

and that’s what led to this current circumstances - with the 9th crumbling away slowly like a common brothel whore, humping his arousal on the 10th’s thighs with barely contained moans. the bloodhound’s scarred hand wrapped tightly around his throat, holding him in place against the cold palace walls as he drools. glasses and the coat of the harbingers long discarded on the floor as pantalone whimpers pathetically like a cornered prey, grinding himself harsher down on the other harbinger’s thigh between his legs.

“hyaaghh.. [n-name]! please… please touch me~ please please plea-ammfgh!♡︎” the banker choked on your fingers, shoved down his mouth. thin line of saliva already slipping down his lips, drooling more and more like a harlot as he desperately humped his hard cock against your thigh.

rutting himself as much as he can with your hand tightening around his neck, bigger fingers playing with his tongue, pulling and lightly tugging on the wet muscle whenever the banker chokes on your fingers. purple eyes rolling to the back of his skill as he panted, hot breath fanning against the wet fingers of your lips as he whined and whimpered, getting more desperate as time passes.

“whore. you like it when i do this to you huh? who would’ve thought the high and mighty 9th harbinger would be such a slut for a little bit of grinding” pulling the leg he was rutting himself on away, you tightened your hands more around his neck causing him to let out a breathy moan. gloved hands prying at the limb blocking his airway with a keen. the man was getting desperate you could tell - by the small wet patch forming on his pants, the stuttering of his hips as he tries to chase after your thighs, eyes hazy with tears starting to well in them.

“silly little slut. can’t even think straight hmm?” forcefully pushing away one of his legs with your other hand, you placed your knee against his hard on. rubbing and circling around his cock painfully slow, putting very light pressure on the arousal before pretty pulling back away again. perhaps getting back at the banker like this for all the stressed nights and destroyed dummies you let out your anger on was a far better replacement.

pantalone let out more choked whimpers, bucking his hips wildly to gain more pressure to his cock, keening with eyes rolled to the back of his skull when you decide to show some mercy. legs starting to shake wildly, barely able to hold himself up as he felt your knees press more and more before he opened his mouth, jaw going slack in a silent scream as he spasmed and twitched, sandwiched between the wall and your body looming over him.

wait, did he just? - looking down at his crotch you saw the old wet patch growing bigger even wetting your pants’ knees. with an uncharacteristically timid look, heavy blush coating his cheeks pantalone reached out - holding your hand around his throat with a small whimper causing your lips to twitch up in a grin.

“more… please?”

[whump-mania]

Alright, here's my idea.

A whumper couple "fighting" over their whumpee, both of them wanting to torment them in their own ways (one can be a brute force trauma type whumper and the other can be a more creepy mind games whumper, i like that pairing) and Whumpee cant figure out if they're glad that they're being "saved" from the other or if they're more terrified that they're being fought over since the whumpers are getting increasingly violent and theyre afraid one might kill the other to keep them forever, and if that happens than it'll be a nightmare either way cause both whumpers are awful

(Thanks for the request!

TWs for cursing, fade to black beating/torture, mentioned drugging, creepy whumper (sfw))

“You’re putting too much thought into it. Just beat them,” Whumper 1 complained in an annoyed tone.

Whumper 2 circled Whumpee’s unconscious form like they were prey, thinking of all the ways they could make their life miserable. Many of the ways didn’t even involve touching Whumpee at all.

“You’re never any fun,” Whumper 2 chided. “You’re not considering how satisfying it is to play into fear,” they said cooly.

“We’re not here to play,” Whumper 1 said gruffly. “We’re here to retrieve information.” They pushed past Whumper 2 and kicked Whumpee in the chest, rudely waking them up. Whumpee coughed and groaned at the force of the kick. They were still a bit weak from what they’d been drugged with.

Whumper 1 stepped forward again to continue the assault, but Whumper 2 stopped them. “No no—let them wake up all the way. We want them to experience all of this.”

Whumper 1 rolled their eyes in frustration and turned around to look for something to hit Whumpee with in the meantime. While they were gone to the other side of the room, Whumper 2 smirked and knelt down next to Whumpee.

“We can make this so bad for you,” they whispered, taking a fistful of Whumpee’s hair and pulling. “You’ll be telling us what we need to know very soon. And after that, you’ll be begging us for death.” Whumper 2 leaned in closer so that their lips brushed Whumpee’s ear. “And we won’t give it to you.”

Suddenly, Whumper 2 was pulled away by the collar of their shirt and up to face Whumper 1, who glared at them dangerously. “That’s enough. You’re wasting time. Use your fists, not your head.”

Whumper 2 looked back at Whumper 1 smugly with no fear. “You don’t want to get in my way, friend.” They pulled a small pocket knife just barely out of their pocket, flashing it. “I can dish it out just as well as you can. I just prefer not to.”

“Is that a threat?” Whumper 1 growled, pulling Whumper 2 closer. The two were in a standoff.

Whumpee, who was just waking up still, managed to push themselves away a little bit. They were honestly relieved that the two were fighting—it took the attention off of them. Meanwhile, they couldn’t imagine being left alone with one of them. They balanced each other out. Whumper 1 could kill them just with their fists if they were alone with them too long, and Whumper 2 would make them wish they were dead with the psychological torment. They didn’t know which they hated most.

Slowly, they scooted themself to the corner to get away from the two as silently as possible. Upon doing this, Whumper 1 turned their head and dropped Whumper 2. “The fuck you think you’re doing?”

Whumpee whimpered and pressed themselves against the wall. They should’ve just stayed where they were.

“Listen…I think we should compromise here,” Whumper 2 said with a grin. “You do what you’re good at, and I’ll do what I’m good at. It’ll be so much for the poor thing. They’ll have to confess what we need eventually.”

Whumper 1 crossed their arms, thinking on it for a moment. “…Fine. But you don’t get to touch them. I want all their bruises to be mine.”

Whumpee shrunk in terror as both tormentors approached them.

[sisterofficerlucychen]

“Do you want to talk about it?”

No. No she doesn’t. Quite frankly Lucy isn’t sure what it is considering everything that has transpired in the last twenty-four hours but she’s certain that out of the two options currently spinning in her mind, neither of them are ones she wants to discuss.

If he brings up Rosalind again, she’s going to cry. She’ll fall apart then and there and wait for him to pick up the broken pieces of everything she’s been holding in. She’s terrified for so many different reasons starting with the memories it’s threatening to bring up and ending with the fact that she’s miles away from home and despite the fact that Tamara is at the station, Lucy still isn’t there to protect her. These are thoughts she cannot have. She knows she needs to have her head in the game, nothing other than their undercover operation should be circling around in her mind. He’s right. If she loses focus, it could get her killed. Both of them and that’s another thought she can’t let herself spiral down.

“About what?”

It’s easier to act clueless than allow herself to think of the second option. It’s inevitable and she knows that she’ll have to provide an answer but she’s really trying to give herself another second or two to come up with a justifiable excuse.

“The airplane bathroom. Your apartment. Look, I-I don’t know, call me crazy, but it just doesn’t feel like pretend.”

She stares at him as he draws closer, suddenly frozen in place as she’s unable to even blink. Her brows raise in surprise as she locks gazes with him. She’s at a loss of words, her lips part as she tries to say something, anything, but the best she can do is stutter an “uh …”

She feels trapped. Like prey that’s just been backed up into a corner with no escape. She’s not, she knows this. It’s Tim after all. Tim who has always and without a doubt been by her side; Tim who has challenged her and pushed her to be better, reminding her to never let anyone stop her; Tim who is arguably her biggest protector and supporter. He’s Tim. He’s home.

Except she can’t say that as much as she wants to. He’s right, it’s not pretend, it hasn’t been for a while. She’s not sure of how it happened or when, it just did. It’s just like how he went from being a stranger, to a pain in her ass, to a mentor, to a friend, to her best friend, to the most important person in her life. It just happened.

It’s messy, complicated, and there’s far too much to lose if she says that it isn’t pretend because he’s right, it’s not pretend. She knows this because of how shocked she was to learn that he was dating someone. At first, she thought it was because he didn’t tell her. How he just casually dropped it into the conversation with Genny like it was no big deal. It was easier to lie to herself and say she was upset because of how she found out but deep down she knew that hadn’t been in. It wasn’t until she thought he was going to propose that she was finally able to put those feelings into actual thoughts. How uncomfortable she felt at the thought of him marrying Ashley, then how heartbroken she was when he got down on one knee when he pranked her.  

“It’s an intimate act. I mean, we’d have to be dead inside for it to not trigger something, right? I mean, it — it’s basic biology.”

All she can come up with is what he’d call ‘Intro to Psych’ BS because that’s exactly what her answer is: bullshit. It’s the first thing she thinks of, an excuse that hopefully he doesn’t see right through. Sure, there’s some merit to it. Biology does have a slight hand in it but it’s definitely not the reason why anything was triggered. It wasn’t the reason she kissed him in her apartment or in the airplane bathroom. 

The first time it was because she knew it’d be her only chance. In her defense, he was the one who brought up the suggestion, the sold called ‘elephant in the room’. Her mind hadn’t gone there but once he mentioned it, the taste of his lips was all she could think about. Then he pecked her. A disappointing little kiss that left her needing more. Then they kissed, actually kissed, and Lucy knew she’d never stop wanting more. The airplane kiss was within the same vein but maybe a little different. Sure, Hajek’s crew was expecting them to be joining the Mile High Club but that was just a cover, much like this one. The reality was that she needed to be grounded and he was the only person who could help her do that. He’s always been the one she turns to, her Northern Star, and hours ago up in the air was no different.

“Okay, so … you’re saying it’s not a big deal? Doesn’t mean anything?”

She hates that he’s asking her this. Of course it’s a big deal but it doesn’t mean her admitting to it will create a different outcome. At the end of the day, he’s chosen Ashley and Lucy’s chosen to settle. So, it doesn’t mean anything because it can’t. The only thing she’ll accomplish by saying otherwise is to drive a wedge between them and losing him isn’t an option. She may not be able to be with him how she longs to but a friend is still something as long as he’s in her life.

“Right?”

Wrong. The question feels weird at the tip of her tongue but this is where she chosen to make her bed and now she has to lay in it. He’s questioning her in a way that makes her wonder ‘what if’ but she can’t allow herself that privilege. There’s too much at stake not just with their relationship but with the op as well. One wrong move, one wrong word, and they’re done. She’s ready to keep repeating this, to act indifferent if it means keeping both of them safe. He stares at her in a way that all but sends a shiver down her spine, like he knows the truth which perhaps he does. She knows that if anyone knows her best, it’s him. But she’s stubborn and determined, ready to shut down the conversation and thankful once his phone starts ringing for the distraction. 

She didn’t want to talk about it and she’s glad she no longer has to.

[maxineswritingcenter]

Passing the Torch - Niklaus Mikaelson x OC - Part 7

It’s corona time once again and I will be simping, this series makes me want to binge vampire diaries again and then originals and then actually finish legacies because I was caught up at one point. And then my routine of watching it during my college art class ended when the lockdowns originally started so... It’s been a really fucked up circle of time. Anyway, all spelling mistakes are my own and I will fix them eventually.

Kenaz has gone by many names, but one must never be spoken. Traveling, on the run, for centuries. But the past is always bound to repeat itself.

-

Southern France, 1002 AD

Fleeing Mikael’s hunt had brought them across the great sea. The voyage had been unlike anything the Mikaelson family had ever seen. The ship bouncing across the ocean had been a new and terrifying ordeal, especially for the humans in their company. They became demons in the eyes of the passengers and crew. But none of them had yet controlled their thirst for fresh, human blood. They were not even sure if it was possible.

Once arriving in France, they had taken to ambushing prey much like the wolves from their village. Attacking lonely caravans whose curiosity got the best of them. This particular night was different.

After their ghastly feasts, Elijah would pile the bodies of their victims and their belongings on a pyre to burn. Kenaz stuck close Niklaus after eat feeding, thriving off the euphoria that they still felt from blood. 

“You are all filthy gluttons.” Finn observed. The eldest Mikaelson son had always followed his mother’s elbow. Being ever so obedient and proper. 

Niklaus leaned over a manger, Kenaz came to the other side, wiping blood from his lip with a scrap of cloth. He smiled at her fondly, reaching across to swipe at the corner of her mouth with his thumb before tasting the drop of blood she had missed. 

“And you remain ever the dullard.” Kol snarked as usual. 

“Such pretty clothes.” Rebekah remarked, feeling the cuff of the dress belonging to the nobel woman dead on the ground. “What a shame they’ll go to waste.”

 The gown was beautiful. It was a pale blue, adorned with beads and embroidery. Such luxury in clothing that they had never seen before. 

Elijah sighed, “Rebekah, we have discussed this-” 

“No, you discussed this, none of us had any say in the matter. We could live as they do. At least, for a time.” Rebekah said, “Think of it, Elijah, we could hide in plain sight, we could live ordinary lives-” Elijah cut her off with a hush, causing them all to listen carefully. A frantic heart beating close by, too close.

Following Elijah’s lead, they all surrounded the caravan that they had attacked. Lifting a large blanket, Elijah revealed a man who had been hiding in the carriage. The man, whose fear was almost radiating off him, attempted to flee into the woods. But his path was cut off by Rebekah and Kol. 

“Well, aren’t you a handsome one.’ She remarked. 

“He looks like dessert to me.” Kol took a step forward. 

“No, wait, wait, wait!” The man pleaded, “I can help you. I-I am a personal servant to the Count De Martel of the very estate you just mentioned. And I was sent to escort these guest to his home for a lengthy stay.” He looked wildly around the group as he spoke, “I know their customs as well as the counts habits. If you mean to pose as the family you have slaughtered here then you need my help to carry out your ruse.”

Rebekah was the first to speak, “Please, can we keep him?” 

“Rebekah, no.” Elijah said sternly, “What is our most important rule?”

“Never leave alive someone who sees what we are.” 

“Thank you very much. A practice that has served us very well indeed.” Elijah began his descent on the survivor. 

“She has a point.” Finn grabbed Elijah’s shoulder before he continued, “He may be of use.” 

“Ah, proper family squabble. Haven’t had one this interesting since we all decided we had to bring Niklaus’ little wife.” 

Ignoring his brother, Klaus came forward, “Perhaps we should we should put it to a vote. All those in favor of letting him live.” Rebekah and Finn raised their hands.

“Those inclined to gut him.” Kol raised his hand, Elijah followed. All eyes turned to Niklaus and Kenaz. 

“Well, Nik, what shall it be?” Kol sneered. Instead of replying, Niklaus looked down at her, giving her a soft smile. He could tell she was nervous, on the fence about the possibility of trusting someone. 

“What do you think, wildflower?” He whispered in her ear. 

Kenaz stared at the man intently. While there was no guarantee that he would not betray them, there also wasn’t the guarantee that he would. His fear would strive him to please them, as they were creatures he had never seen before and did not know what them capable of. Then she thought of what it would be like to live as the family they killed. They appeared wealthy, never to have a care in the world besides what they would wear or where they would go. Lavish parties, the beginnings of new lives for all of them. Imagining a life where Niklaus could be a great painter and she could teach school children, to fill a void that could never be filled. 

She glanced to each sibling to see their reaction. Finn and Elijah kept neutral faces, Rebekah had pleading eyes, and Kol only smirked. 

Kenaz’s answer was only the squeeze of his hand. 

Niklaus nodded and turned to the human, “Well, it seems to be your lucky day.” 

-

Covington, 1994

Kay worked in supernaturals bar open to vampires, werewolves, and witches alike, as long as they followed the rules. 

1. No fighting

2. No magic

3. No compelling

4. No biting

They were simple rules and yet there was always someone who got kicked out. 

Today thought, Kay’s only focus was one patron in particular. He went by Fox, a vampire that seemed to know everything and anyone. He absorbed knowledge like a sponge and that was a very important asset to Kay. He had even been able to track down a few of her previous names but never her first, there had been no written record of the first and it became a game they played. 

One moment the bar stool in front of her section of the bar was empty, then when she turned around with a shot of peach schnapps in her hand, Fox appeared. Fox had dark hair with a patch of gray in the front, his tan complection complimented his bright green eyes well. He was alluring and charming, it worked to his advantage to get the information he wanted. 

“Kay.” He greeted her with a toothy grin, accepting the shot of liquor and downing it immediately. He slammed the glass down on the bar top, rim down, “Peach. My favorite.” 

“Yeah, well, you won’t be getting more it you shatter my shot glasses. You remember what happened last time.” She took the glass, cloth in hand, and nodded towards the bouncer, Darius, a werewolf with a very good memory. Fox gave Darius a nervous wave that was met with the bouncer cracking his knuckles. 

“Enough foreplay, zorro.” She said, leaning against the bar, “Tell me what you’ve learned.” 

“Come on, you know foreplay is my favorite part.” He winked, “But I suppose since you’re so nice, Kathleen.” From his jean jacket, adorned with metal band patches and buttons, he pulled out a stack of notecards rubber banded together. He sat the cards down, next to the fresh shot she poured him. 

“Quite the stack.” She mused, then squinted, “Is that purple sparkly gel pen?” The stack was taken from her line of sight. 

“No judging. You gotta use what you can find.” He stuck his tongue out at her playfully and unwrapped the rubber band. “Okay, first things first, there was some drama with the Gemini coven.” 

“Oh do tell.” 

“Well, the boy from the oldest twin set-”

“The siphon?” 

He nodded, “That’s him. He killed four of his siblings looking for the youngest twins so that him and his twin would be in the merge ceremony. And of course, he would win and become the leader, but they put him in a prison world instead.” 

Kay paused her cleaning and furrowed her brows at him, “Fox, that’s not drama, that’s tragic.” 

“Potato, potato. Moving on, uh still don’t know who Jack the Ripper was, still a mystery.” 

“Topical.” 

“Oh but I did find one thing you wanted, Miss Kate.” He flipped through his cards and found a stack written in black pen, “I found some info on the Originals. WoOoOoooo~.” 

“What did I say about foreplay?” 

“Right, sorry, anyway still nothing on Finn. Obviously, there hasn’t been since ever. Are you sure he’s an original because no one knows who he is.” 

“Trust me, he’s one of them.” 

“Okay, uhhhh nothing on Mikael, nothing on Kol, nothing on Elijah or his Stryx freaks, nothing on pretty Rebekah, but I do have some info on Klaus.” Having not heard, nor said his name in centuries, her ears perked up. 

“Continue.” 

“Oh, intrigued are we? Well, there’s isn’t much new. He’s still looking for that moonstone, still looking for the doppelgänger, still looking for Katerina Petrova, still looking for that runaway bride of his. Speaking of, I got info on her too.” 

“He never had a wife, that’s just some scam that men like you use to gain favor. It’s like looking for Anastasia when she was killed with the rest of her family.” 

“I don’t know, Kenaz, I think that there’s some truth to it.” He took his second shot. 

She rolled her eyes, “There isn’t any-...” Her words trailed off as the name he called her sank in. Her name. Her real name. 

“What did you call me?” 

“Ahhh...” He set down the glass on the bar top, a smirk on his treacherous mouth. 

“I think those thousand year old ears can hear me just fine, Kenaz. Now, in approximately five minutes, give or take, several of your husband’s strongest are going to come through those doors and take you, kicking and screaming, to Klaus. But, I could call them right now and tell them that I was mistaken on that there pay phone.” He nodded in the direction of the payphone that sat lonely in the darkest corner of the bar. “If you tell me what I want to know.” 

“What do you want?” She lowered her voice, the rest of the world coming to a stand still. Her eyes darting from this trickster, to the doors.

“I want to know his big secret, I want to have the nastiest dirt on Niklaus Mikaelson. Because I think it’s time for the little guy to be on top. And I can either get there by giving him you. Or I can get it straight from his missus mouth.” He leaned forward. 

Clearly sensing her distress, Darius appeared behind Fox, arms crossed over his broad chest. 

“Is there a problem here?” He asked with his impossibly deep voice. 

Fox turned to face the bodyguard, a knowing smirk on his face, “Everything’s fine, wouldn’t you say, Ken-” Her hand was thrust through his chest before the last of her name could leave his lips, his blood splattering across Darius’ grimace. Her fist protruded from his chest, his heart beating its last against her palm. It was almost on instinct that she did it, like her body worked out of tandem with her head. One minute, her hand was gripping a vervain wash she kept under the counter for rowdy vampires. And then the next, that same hand was holding his heart. 

Kay dropped his heart, Fox’s corpse soon followed it. That’s when the doors burst open, the guards attention brought to the suited vampires who had burst through the door. But instead of finding their target, they found a bar with a dead informat on the floor and a single notecard on the floor. 

-

Mystic Falls, 2010 

In the days that followed the confrontation with Alaric, a lot had happened. Including spells, learning that the vampires had never been burned in Fell’s church, that Katherine was never in there, funerals, heart breaks. Nothing Kass hadn’t been through before. 

There had been a noticeable difference in how Alaric interacted with her. Nothing outside of board meetings, even then he still avoided eye contact. It was if she was completely invisible to him. But after learning what he told Stefan, that Damon was the one that killed his wife, that caused him to become a vampire hunter, maybe this was for the best, that she leave him alone. 

Tonight was the annual Founder’s Day Fundraiser. Where the elite families of Mystic Falls would raise money for the town, or that’s what they said. At the Fundraiser, there would be a bachelor’s auction, where only the most eligible bachelors in Mystic Falls would be raffled off, including Alaric Saltzman. 

Jealous wasn’t a word she wanted to use thinking about him being auctioned to the right bidder. 

Jealous was a word she would use seeing Alaric with Jenna Sommers though, that hurt. 

It’s not like she could expect any more or less. Love was never going to be in the cards for her, especially not with a human. And any vampire that was around her age, and that a shallow, shallow pool, knew her ex and that wasn’t worth it. 

Kass sat in the back of the Mystic Grill, nursing a glass of bourbon when Damon appeared. He followed her line of sight to see Alaric talking with Jenna. 

“Are you snooping, Miss Kate?” He asked, sitting next to her. Ever since he found out Katherine was never in the church, he had been a wreck, just living but not really alive (ironically enough). 

She sighed after taking another sip of the increasingly watery drink, “Kass is just fine, Damon. And I’m not snooping.” 

“So you’re not listening in on their conversation?” He watched her shrug and he hummed to himself, “Well, not like he matters much, I’m thinking about getting him fired.” 

Kass rolled her eyes, “Fill up the Salvatore spot on the council since you killed Zach? Killing your relatives is such a dreadful habit, don’t you think?” 

“Stefan has always been such a little kiss ass, hasn’t he? Always telling on me to you.” 

“Better me than your father.” She mused, finishing her glass. 

He shrugged, “Yeah, well, I didn’t care if I disappointed old dad.”  Before she could ask him to elaborate, Damon had sauntered off to smooze over Carol Lockwood. 

-

All the bachelorettes of Mystic Falls had turned out for the auction for a date with several of the finest (the term was used loosely) men in the city. Carol Lockwood went down the line, asking each man a question about themselves, mostly their occupation. Kass sat at the bar, on her third (or was it her fourth) bourbon. 

“Number four, Alaric Saltzman.” Carol nearly mispronounced his name, “Wow. That’s quite a mouthful. What do you do, Alaric?” 

When he spoke, he didn’t look anywhere is particular, certainly not in her direction, “I’m a teacher at Mystic Falls high.” 

“Oh, beauty and brains, ladies. This one’s a keeper.” Carol got a few oohs and ahhs from the crowd, “What do you teach?” 

“History.” 

“History. Oh, well give us a fun fact about Mystic Falls, something crazy.” 

“Uh, well...” He paused, glancing around the room, his eyes meeting her for the first time.

“Excuse me, Mr. Saltzman.” Kass walked up to him during a time in between classes. He looked up at her from the student who he was talking to. 

“Could I have a word with you, please?” 

“I really need to be prepping for next class.” He made an excuse. 

“Oh, it should only take a minute. You’d really be helping me out.” Her smile was casual but her eyes were pleading.

“Uh yeah, sure.” He added to the student if they had anymore questions to email them to him before leading her inside his room and closing the door. Once all the students had walked away from his door, he fully faced her, in a stiff and defensive stance. 

“So, is this were you kill me? A little on the nose doing it in the daylight.” 

“I was never going to hurt you, never.” 

“A little late for that.” He sneered.

She sighed in frustration, “You weren’t supposed to know. I wasn’t supposed to get close to you. Stefan and Damon were never supposed to even be vampires, meaning they were never supposed to come back here. None of this was supposed to happen.” 

“So...” He sighed, “What are you doing here.” 

She decided to give him the same story she had given to Stefan and Damon, one that she practiced and knew well to tell it as if it were second nature, “My ancestors are from Mystic Falls, before it was even called that. I come here every once in a while to learn more about where I come from, find more Erikdotters out there. It’s been a fruitless endeavor but, I want to find my own family.” 

“What about what you told me? Was it even true? About your ex husband, about your... miscarriage?” 

Not meeting his gaze, she nodded, “Yes, that was true. I wouldn’t lie about that.” 

Ric crossed his arms over his chest, “Why not? You lied about everything else.”

Rubbing her temples, she looked up at him: “What did you want me to tell you? That I woke up from a incredibly painful miscarriage craving blood? That my husband became a violent and bloodthirsty tyrant so I ran away and continued running for decades if not centuries?”  He didn’t answer for what felt like forever, but what he did say hurt her more than anything. 

“Is that supposed to make me feel sorry for you? You’re a vampire, a monster.” 

“He’s probably saving the best stories for his date.” Carol continued to the next contestant, “And last but not least, Damon Salvatore.” Kass didn’t stay much longer, slipping out the back before hearing anymore. Instead of going home like she should have, she went to the Salvatore house. Stefan had mentioned that Giuseppe had done research on her family and seemed to be coming close to discovering her before the church burning happened. 

While looking through the archives in the basement, she heard the front door open and close and from the footsteps she could tell it was Damon. He had always been heavy footed. But shortly after, another set of footsteps. Ones that seemed familiar but she couldn’t quite but a finger on. 

“Are you really this stupid?” Damon’s voice was muffled by the floors that separated them, “Guess so.” There was a thud on the ceiling, followed by groans of pain. 

“You gonna put down the stake?” Damon asked. “Wow, that’s courage.” Her eyes widened and she rushed upstairs.

“Where’s Isobel?” Alaric’s voice was harsh, “What have you done to my wife?” Once Kass came to the landing, she hid behind a bookcase, prepared to rush in before anything terrible were to happen. 

“You want me to tell you I killed her? Would that make you happy? Because I think you know what happened.” Damon said, the two men walking in a circle, glaring each other down. Alaric held a stake in his hand. 

“I saw you feeding on her.” 

“Yeah, I did, and I wasn’t lying.” Damon smiled, “She was delicious.” Alaric rushed forward to attack, but Damon only casually shoved him back across the room. She knew Damon wouldn’t really hurt him, wouldn’t kill him. 

Right?

“Oh, come on, what do you think happened? Not an inkling?” He played on Ric’s anger. “Never considered the possibility? I turned her.” 

“Why?”

“She came to me, all pathetic, looking for vampires.” Damon thought back, “There was something about her, something I liked. There was something special.”

“You turned her because you liked her?” 

“No, I slept with her because I liked her. I turned her because she begged me to. Yeah. But you knew that, too, didn’t you? Hmm. I guess she wasn’t happy at home. Wasn’t happy with life in general... Wasn’t happy with you.” 

“Damon-” It was then she decided she needed to get in between them before something bad happened. But even then she was too late.

What happened next was almost too fast for her own eyes. Alaric had lunged again, but Damon had grabbed his wrists and plunged the wooden stake into his own heart. Coming behind him to push it further and further into his chest.

“Ah, this is a shame. We’re kindred spirits, abandoned by the women we love.” He turned Ric in his arms, to face her, almost amused by the horror on her face.

“Unrequited love sucks.” Damon pulled the stake from Alaric’s chest, listening to his struggle in inhale, “Sounds like I got a lung. Which means I get to sit here and watch you die.” He motioned around his chest with the stake, “That’s where the lungs are, right, Kate? Oh, I mean Kass. I was never good with names.” He dropped Alaric to the floor. 

Finally her feet moved from their frozen position on the floor, running to Ric’s side on the floor. Alaric tried to push her away but was in too much pain to really move her. 

“Don’t move.” Her voice shook as she held pressure to his wound, “Damon, call an ambulance.” It was the only option for him then. He was bleeding into his lung, would drown in his own blood. She couldn’t remove pressure from the wound for even a moment or else he would die, she couldn’t get to her own phone since she left it downstairs. She couldn’t give him her blood to heal him, not without risking turning him into something he hated. 

Damon ignored her, picking up his abandoned whiskey and sitting on one of the leather couches, watching Alaric sputtered and writhe. 

“Damon, please-” She looked back to Alaric , “Ric, you’re-” But he was already dead. Eyes wide and blown with fear.

“Alaric.” She rested her head against his chest, praying her ears were wrong when she couldn’t hear his heartbeat, “Ric, come on. No, no, no...” Her eyes ached to shed tears but all of her sadness in that moment was replaced by anger and hurt. 

Kass quickly turned around, stood Damon up by the lapel of his leather jacket and slammed him into a wall. 

“Why are you like this?” She seethed, “Why must you destroy the things around you?” 

“He attacked me first, I was defending myself.” 

“You could have disarmed him, compelled him to forget.” 

“He pissed me off.” Damon glared back at her. There was a part of her, a part of her that she had buried deep inside of her, that wanted to tear him apart, that wanted to rip his heart out and make him eat it. 

A part of her that... A part of her that Niklaus had made. 

She dropped his jacket, shoving away from him, glancing to Alaric on the floor, a pool of blood forming on the hardwood. 

“I don’t know what happened to make you like this. To turn you from a sweet and caring young man into a monster. So what if Katherine has been alive all this time? Katherine is selfish and cruel and always has been. And you’re just like her.” Kass went back to her position besides Alaric’s corpse, wiping her bloody hands on her pants, not caring about the staining. 

Eventually, Stefan arrived, immediately running in when she saw the state of the room. 

“What happened? What did you do?” Stefan barked, kneeling down to feel at Alaric’s still pulse. He then met her eyes, the best he could, anyway. He could see that her eyes were open, but he saw far off somewhere in her own mind. 

“Dude, what? He attacked me.” 

“Damon-”

“Look I don’t need another lecture. All I did was tell him the truth. His wife didn’t want him anymore. It’s not my fault he couldn’t handle it.” He took a long gulp of his drink. 

“Like you’ve been handling Katherine?” 

“I’m handling it fine.” Damon lied, “Ya know what? Isobel came to me. She found me. And if she’s related to Elena that means she’s related to Katherine. Maybe Katherine sent her to me.” This made Kass turn around to stare at Damon, incredulously. He was still in denial. 

“Stop it. You don’t have to keep looking.” Stefan glared. 

“Can’t be a coincidence Isobel sought me out.” He shook his head, “Can’t. I’m assuming you’ll take care of this.” Damon stood up and began walking out the door. 

“He just can’t move on, can he?” She whispered, “Her hooks are still that deep in a hundred and sixty-four years later.” 

Stefan sighed in defeat, sitting down across from her in front of the fireplace, staring down at Ric’s body, “I don’t know what I’m going to tell Elena. He was her closet connection to her birth mother.” 

“Trust me.” She combed her hair out of her face, “Isobel isn’t someone she wants to know. He was right that they’re related. They’re like two sides of the same coin. They only care about themselves.” Reaching down, she combed a piece of Alaric’s hair off his forehead, “Not about the people they destroy in the process.” Stefan nodded, but then his brows furrowed as he stared Ric’s hand. 

“Did you see that?” He whispered. 

“See what-” Her questioned was cut off by Alaric’s body jerking and him gasping for air. 

“What happened? What’s going on?” Alaric looked around as he caught his breath. Stefan and Kass could only stare at him. 

“You were just...” Stefan looked him the eyes, “Did Damon turn you?” 

“No. I uh went for him, and then he-he stabbed me.” 

“No, no, no. You must have vampire blood in your system. Somebody slipped it to you.” He looked up at her, “Did you give him your blood?” 

She shook her head, “No, I didn’t want to chance it.” 

“No. It’s...” He looked at his hand, “It’s something else.” 

“Then how?” Stefan asked. 

“I...” Alaric paused, looking down at the crest ring on his finger, a very familiar crest ring. A Gilbert ring. 

“Isobel. This ring protected me.”

“That’s impossible.” 

“Well...” Kass said, bring both of their attentions to her, “Not entirely.” 

I’m not neglecting my other series.... On purpose.

---

Read part eight here!

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[wyyvernn]

Yandere Alucard (GN!Reader) (Adrian Tepes)

A/n: Art and fic by me, you steal, i stab 🗡 just kidding...😐 also a reminder that i DO NOT do requests, please read my bio, i know some people have been popping into my messages to request, sorry! Maybe one day :)\

Warning: Nothing too bad, still bit of manipulation involved.

-⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆⋆☆-

Rippling pools of gold swim in his irises as they widen at the mention of your words. There’s a deafening silence that cuts between the two of you. Your gazes are locked and his hands clench into fists. You catch the disappointment in his eyes, the sadness, the sharp inhale of his breath. If his reaction is supposed to make you feel regret, it’s working.

“You plan...to leave?” he mutters softly, like a disheartened child. There’s a noticeable waver in his voice but you say nothing.

No. No. Surely not.

You can't.

He only just started to warm up to you, to open himself to accepting the feelings he has for you. The shield of his heart had been repaired over months, despite the very apparent scar the wound left behind. He was ready to love again, and you would just leave him? He saved you, he fed you, spoiled you with gifts from the nearby town, reassured that he would always be there should you need comfort.

Weeks, months of progress; time filled with joy and happiness now all about to go down the drain.

He could feel a crack in his chest once more.

“Adrian, I...you understand right? I can’t stay here. I can visit! I’ll bring you things from time to time.”

“Time to time, hm,” he repeats, tasting the syllables on his tongue like bitter wine, “In time...I’ll be alone.”

“I...well.”

Truth is you want to stay, you do. But you can’t. Your family awaits, they’ll be thrilled to know that you’re safe and well. Your brothers and sisters will swarm you the moment you walk through the door and your mother will be cupping your cheeks, pressing fervent kisses all over your face when you arrive.

But Adrian? He’ll wither away like dust, downing bottle after bottle of the wine storage, unmotivated to do anything but waste his days away in misery.

He’ll be nothing but a memory.

“Monsters stalk those forests, the path to the nearest town is littered with them. You’ll become their prey and I won’t be there to help.”

“You’ve taught me all I need to know, I’m sure I can-”

“Can what?” He spurs on, pressing onward as he backs you slowly, “You’re still human at the end of the day, feeble and delicate in every way. You’ll die without me, without my guidance.”

By now your back hits the stone of the wall, feet dragging across the carpet as Adrian gently corners you. His eyelids are low and there’s a predatory gleam lacing his irises. Sheer nervousness spreads through your fingers and toes, you can feel your palms become coated with sweat and your lips quivering softly.

Alucard is terrifying like this.

His hands brush over your own, like a tender whisper on your skin in an attempt to calm you. However, there’s tension, so much tension locked in your bones, especially when his face nears yours.

“Stay...I will treat you how you deserve to be treated,” he breathes over your lips. The close proximity fills your face with a suffocating heat.

Suddenly, your brows crease into a frown, “And what would you know about what I deserve?”

Long, slender fingers run up along your bare arms and Adrian inhales deeply into your neck, his flaxen hair tickles your skin as it curls around in large waves.

“I know you deserve to be treated like royalty,” he swallows the thick lump down his throat, trying his best to persuade you, “I can give you that if you become mine. Please stay with me, I don’t want to be alone...again.”

A sigh parts from your lips as Adrian leaves little kisses in the junction between your neck and shoulders.

“Alright...alright,” you reply shakily, arms awkwardly circling around his waist, “But give me some time, I would like to see my family, they probably lost faith in my wellbeing. They need to know I’m okay, Adrian.”

His heart leaps at the news but there’s a sinister, unknown look in his gaze when he pulls back to look at your face, as if he’s contemplating whether you’ll come back to him or not.

“Very well...then I will be accompanying you in the morning.”

[solntepyok]

Their attraction to you

There are only two characters here: Xenophanes and Lord X. There are two variants for each. I'll see if I can write something similar with the rest of Sonic.exe's Mod characters. But in the meantime, let's keep it that way.

TW: It may contain scenes of violence descriptions. So read with caution. Thank you for your attention.

---

Xenophanes

He gets furious when you try to escape from him. He loves the way you scream, rubbing your tear-red eyes, begging him for mercy as he clutches you by the throat with his long claws. He laughs in a way that chills your soul — you are terrified to look into his eyes. They are bottomless, cold and merciless: you cannot see his soul in them, he has no heart, he has no compassion. He is very cruel to you when you resist him, when you try to escape. He growls menacingly, bares dagger-sharp fangs, tears your skin until it bleeds. His eyes fill with blood and he tosses you aside. You fall backwards — you can't get up again. And he slowly, savoring every second, heads towards you. You must not resist. You must be submissive to his satisfaction. He is your Master and you are merely his plaything, his slave, of which there are several dozen in his domain. But it's you he's attracted to.

He has been interested in you for a long time. Ever since he became aware of you, he has been interested in watching you. No matter how often you turned around, trying to catch someone's insistent gaze, which intuitively kept you on your toes, you still never managed to see him. Because he wouldn't let you see him. You had to play by his rules, because that was his idea. You are his prey, the most beautiful victim that he must have. And he is a clever and ruthless hunter, cornering you, giving you no escape. He knows that you are weaker, that you will not escape: the cowardly hare will sooner or later find itself in the teeth of the cunning fox, ready to tear his captured prey into a thousand pieces.

Lord X

As if you were delirious, you kept repeating the same thing. Time after time, taking a breath, you wanted to fall over and burst into tears like a child. You knew he was somewhere near, very near. He would torture you again, he would hurt you again, and again you would not be able to fight him back. Just because it is impossible. His strength and speed were several thousand times greater than yours, you could feel his strong energy, his endless power. No one is capable of holding back so much hatred, pretense and bloodthirstiness. He was holding himself back by deliberately taunting you. For him it is just another game in which he will undoubtedly emerge victorious, while for you it is another suffering, endless agony. Each time you repeated the same thing as he grabbed you by the throat and opened his mouth. You screamed out loud as a bony hand groped out of his mouth, clutching your face. Horror froze your face, and a single phrase burst out as you exhaled: "I don't want to die!"

In his circles he was truly the Dark Lord. He was the one whose mere name made every living thing hide in the corners. Everyone knew he had no equal in bloodlust, except you. He was as annoying to you as all the fuss about him. "Nothing lasts forever." You thought. And you were wrong. He punished you for your bravery. You've endured everything his victims once endured. You felt an animal fear of him, you knelt before him like the last wretched creature, begging him to spare you, even though you hated that feeling of helplessness. It was as if he was pulling your strings, forcing you to do what he personally wanted. You realised this too late, when it was no longer worthwhile to be a hero. You have learned too much for your determination. Your mind and body are in his hands now — you have become his puppet forever...

[thewayshedreamed]

Nessian prompt:

We’re playing truth or dare and I just got dared to sit on your lap for the next two rounds but now I’m sitting on your hard-on and I’m kinda getting turned on cuz the ✨positioning✨. We’re both tryna fix the situation without drawing attention to us but the fidgeting definitely isn’t helping 👀

Thanks for the prompt, Bby! I know you sent it as part of my follower celebration, but it worked so well for @nessianweek Day 4: Rivalry that I couldn't pass it up.

Enjoy!

Warnings for strong language and mature themes. Slightly nsfw.

--

Nesta didn't know the last time she played Truth or Dare. She thought those days had left her at some point during undergrad, but apparently not. There she was, her last semester of graduate school, somewhat invested in a round of the game. The group had been playing for almost an hour, the drinks they poured becoming more and more stout as the night went on.

Gwyn and Emerie had convinced her to join them for a night out with the others, and to be fair, it had been quite some time since she'd allowed herself a carefree night out. Her sisters and Mor were there, as well as Rhys, Azriel, Cassian, and Lucien. Amren mentioned she would "see how things went", which meant she and Varian were staying in to fulfill their own agenda. There was no doubt that was for the best since their activities would likely scar them all.

It was Mor's turn, and her mischievous smile turned on her girlfriend. "Truth or Dare, Em?"

Emerie considered it for a moment, making a show of staring at the ceiling. One of the guys made a sound similar to a ticking clock, but she paid them no mind.

"Truth."

"Okay," Mor drawled, taking a long sip of wine. "Fuck, Marry, Kill; for Rhys, Azriel, Cassian."

Emerie's eyes grew wide, snapping to Feyre and back to Mor. Nesta dared to chuckle at her friend's tight position, earning a pointed glare reserved for the worst of traitors.

"Don't hesitate on my account," Feyre giggled, resting her head on Rhys' shoulder. "I'm curious."

"That's not a fair one!" Emerie argued, gesturing with her hands. "The answer is none of the above, on all counts. For more than one reason."

The three men had the audacity to look miffed at her rejection, even though none of them had any interest in Emerie. They'd all known each other too long for any blurred lines. Mor leaned heavily against her, a look of apology in her rounded, brown eyes.

"Fair enough," she conceded, pressing a kiss to Emerie's cheek.

"That's not how it works!" Cassian challenged. It was unclear whether his ego or strict principles motivated his outburst.

Nesta fought the urge to roll her eyes, to rise to the challenge in his voice like she usually did. But Emerie was her friend, and she wasn't going to take him pushing her lying down. The words left her with more snark than usual.

"Oh, would you come off it?"

His eyes snapped in her direction, locking in on her face like a predator circling prey. "Let me guess. You have an opinion."

Nesta's blood boiled, despite the fact that she told herself Cassian wouldn't get under her skin the next time they were around each other. She was 0 for... hundreds at that point.

"She answered it truthfully, so I don't see the problem."

"It's the way the question was framed, though. It's a game within the question. There were three options. 'None of the above' wasn't one of them."

Nesta loosened the reins on her eye rolling. Cassian was good for that. "No one made that rule."

"Sweetheart, the rules are pretty clear. But if you want to make sure they stay nice and loose so you can back out later, I get that."

Emerie cleared her throat, eager to redirect his challenge before the two of them escalated. "Show us how it's done, then. Truth or Dare, Cassian?"

His attention lingered on Nesta a moment longer, a familiar glint in his eyes. Her blood heated for an entirely different reason, and she was sure to berate it for doing so.

"Dare."

"I dare you to kiss Azriel," she said, grinning around the rim of her glass. "On the mouth."

Azriel pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, resigned to his fate. He knew Cassian better than anyone, and it was only a matter of time.

Without hesitation, Cassian said, "Oh, done. Tongue?"

A chorus of laughter drowned out Azriel incredulous curse in Cassian's direction. When she finally recovered, Emerie took mercy on Azriel and excused any tongue. Cassian didn't hesitate to lean toward Azriel, cupping him roughly by the back of the neck and planting a full kiss to his mouth. There were catcalls all around; not at all needed in the encouragement department.

Azriel turned his attention to Feyre, fully succumbing to his soft spot for her and letting her off on the easiest Truth ever. It was something to do with who she would most like to draw or paint of the lot of them, excluding Rhys. No surprises on her choice of Azriel himself, but to his credit, he didn’t preen at the compliment. He humbly nodded as if anyone alive wouldn’t want to catch those angles on canvas.

“Nesta,” Feyre called, interrupting another quip she had been prepared to launch Cassian’s way. She couldn’t remember why. “Truth or Dare?”

She took a long pull of her drink and licked her bottom lip. “Dare.”

“Hmm,” Feyre considered, and Nesta had to admit to being slightly terrified of how diabolical sibling could be in a game such as the one she played. It didn’t take long for her to realize she’d been right to feel that way. “I think you two need to learn to get along. I dare you to sit on Cass' lap. Minimum of two full turns.”

Nesta’s nostrils flared. Cassian’s red hot challenge bore a hole into the side of her head, and all she could hear was his taunt from before.

Sweetheart, the rules are pretty clear. But if you want to make sure they stay nice and loose so you can back out later, I get that.

She snapped her attention to his face, suppressing the urge to throttle him for the narrow-eyed smirk he offered. Angling his large body backward, he draped a muscled arm across the back of the couch and eased his thighs open. Cassian wouldn't be the one to back down, she realized.

"Fine." Nesta threw back the rest of her drink and set it roughly on the nearby table.

Cassian's eyes were sparkling, his smile feline. He tapped his thigh with his free hand to goad her, and she wondered if he— if they— would ever tire of the constant challenges. Nesta sauntered over and dropped heavily into the center of his lap, earning a loud oof.

"Fuck, Sweetheart," he fussed, gripped her waist in his large hands to rearrange their position.

The heat of his hands, the scrape of his calluses; they came together to monopolize her focus. She was almost sure that others were amused by their display, but her world was singularly focused.

Cassian cleared his throat while he eased her into a position that better balanced her weight. The tension eased from her thighs as she settled, only for him to shift her again. Nesta let out an exaggerated sigh at his constant fidgeting. The only silver lining to the near motion sickness she'd no doubt endure as a result was the steadiness of his grip against her.

The reason for all his maneuvering revealed itself seconds later. Nesta had been initially impressed with the muscle tone in his thighs, how firm the muscles felt beneath her. They were nothing in comparison to the very obvious hardness pressing against the swell of her ass.

Animated conversation continued around them, and Nesta took the opportunity to turn and offer an accusatory glare. He hissed against the pressure of her movement, sending her eyebrows into her hairline.

"Are you really h—"

"Shh!" Cassian ordered, clamping a hand over her mouth. "Can you not announce that shit to the entire room?"

Nesta blinked incredulously and dragged her tongue against his palm. He grimaced, rubbing his palm against his jeans as if she'd poured acid onto his skin.

"It's not my fault you can't... control that," she hissed.

"Well, shit, Nesta. When's the last time you had a beautiful woman on your lap and had to keep your boner in check?" His whisper was low, frantic. There were words that latched onto her nerves and left goosebumps in their wake, even when she barely heard them.

"It's only two turns," she managed, swallowing against the dryness in her throat. "Then, it'll be a non-issue."

Cassian's hands clung to her hips once more, the delicious grip of them even firmer than before. "You can't get up now; not in front of them." He gestured with a jerk of his chin to the rest of the room. "They're savages."

A laugh bubbled out of Nesta's chest, and surprisingly, it was more due to the unlikely alliance forged by biology than her pleasure in his panic. The irony wasn't lost on her, but she didn't get to dwell on it for long before Cassian started strategizing.

"We're supposed to get along, right?" He paused, waiting for the excessive noise level to settle around them. Someone must have performed a solid dare, and Nesta was mildly concerned that it hadn't managed to be a blip on their radar. "You're gonna have to keep fighting with me."

A smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth. "To be clear, you want me to argue with you so that we can hide this?" She rocked back into him for emphasis, and a pained sound left him. Nesta was grateful for the small silver lining that was her private arousal, otherwise she and Cassian would be in the same boat. The way his eyelids fluttered didn't help.

"I'm asking your for a small favor. When I get my shit together, you're free to go. I'm not exactly happy about it either."

Another smile teased her lips. "Small?"

"Mother's tits. Just turned around."

Nesta complied, if for no other reason than to hide the chuckle she'd been trying to choke down throughout the conversation. They engaged with the others as nonchalantly as possible, ignoring each other completely until opportunities arose to take opposing stances on anything at all. The rules of the game. Who brought the best drinks. If someone had successfully completed their dare or answered their question. Cassian had been correct in assuming the group would advocate for their continued canoodling since they weren't yet cooperating with one another.

"Nesta," he almost growled, sometime after a dozen turns of their faux discord. "This isn't helping."

She whipped around, noting the pained expression on his face. "Wait, is this working for you?"

Cassian squeezed his temples between his thumb and middle finger, looking as if he was in as much disbelief as her. The tragic part was that the arguing hadn't curbed her own body's reactions to him, either.

"That's what it looks like."

Nesta didn't cage it then, the full and melodic laughter that shook her shoulders and made her eyes water. He continued bracing his head in his hand while she delighted in his torture.

"That's awfully kinky of you."

"Alright, enough out of you," he grumbled, situating her for the hundredth time. "You have any better ideas?"

Tears pooled in her eyes, and she flicked them away. "I guess your only choice is to wait until the game ends, or someone causes enough commotion for you to adjust and take a break for a few minutes."

Cassian huffed, clearly unimpressed with her tactics.

"You'll just have to trust me, of all people, to keep your secret in the meantime," she stated, turning her attention back to the room.

His only response was a muttered curse before she felt his forehead drop between her shoulder blades.

[littlefreya]

Easy Prey

Summary: Direct sequel to Jerk. Ring or not, August promised himself that he will make you his, in whatever mean possible and he kept that promise. 

Pairing: August Walker x Reader (2nd person pov)

Word count: 1.6K

Warnings: 18+, dark, kidnapping, bondage, dubious consent, teasing, dirty talk, gunplay (yeah add this to the list of kinks I gave you), sweet degradation and praise.

A/N: You thought August is going to sweet talk this one, didn’t you? Surprise! This was a short drabble brought by a prompt, turned into a one-shot and then my beta @agniavateira suggested this as a sequel to Jerk before I posted. Since most of you may be in a thanksgiving dinner tomorrow, enjoy my own early b-day gift to you! Many thanks to @wondersofdreaming and @sapphirescrolls who convinced me to post this. 

Please comment and reblog if you enjoyed. Your feedback is my fuel. 🖤

Easy Prey

August Walker lived his life swinging between the two sharp edges of a sword; but then, how could he not? He had to maintain a handsome prime-alpha male reputation while hiding his true cruel nature masked beneath mist and shadows.

It took everyone by surprise once it was revealed that the slick, charming agent was a vicious, Armani-wearing monster. A hard-to-swallow pill for most, but these two diverse entities were always one and the same: 

August Walker was John Lark the way darkness followed light. 

And how unfortunate it was of you to be lured into the spider’s web, stunned by the beauty of the pearly silk; you’ve gotten too close and had your limbs caught in the sticky threads. Now captured, you’ve earned yourself a taste of August’s sweet toxin yourself. 

Fear wasn’t even close to the sensation that was gnawing in your gut.

The suite was cosy; a sleepy fire crackled in the mantle, shy beams of maple light kissed your bare breasts while you laid upon the softest pillows. It felt like a sinister joke compared to the ropes charring the supple flesh of your wrists. August had you stripped of any remnants of protection of course, save for the little jewellery circling your finger which he eyed with a blank stare that screamed in its contained silence.

Fully clothed, he stood at the fore of the bed, wearing a blue three-piece suit as if he was attending a royal wedding. A magnum was clutched in his right hand and a dagger in the other. The calmness and elegance of his appearance only made you arch and grunt in your fruitless attempts to set yourself free.

“Ropes too tight, angel?” He hummed, his voice so pleasant it felt like your lungs were floating in a void. His crystal-pale gaze dawdled upon you, invading beneath the skin, penetrating the warm crease between your legs which you fought to keep shut. 

He felt it, or maybe even smelled the arousal that wafted at his direction and chanted his name.

“I’d save my strength if I were you. We’ve already proven that no one can hear your screams and we have a long night ahead of us.”

His words covered the bones of your spine with a thick layer of frost and in your searing throat, a bitter substance reemerged. Screwing your eyes shut, you wished more than anything for this to be a nightmare; but every time the binds twisted about your hands, you remembered the dreadful meaning behind the pain. 

It was there to remind you of the harsh slap that was reality.  

August tilted his head, a smile beginning to spread from each corner of his mouth: all pleasant and  charming as if this was nothing but a couple’s naughty getaway. 

“You can’t wake up from this, this is not a dream… or a nightmare, depends on your disobedience,” he assured, boding a sudden hollow in your chest. “Now, which one do you prefer? The knife or the gun?”

“Fuck you!” 

Defiant, you gathered yourself to scream a trembling cry, sending your legs to kick the mattress in a hopeless fight. Only it made things worse as August was able to spot the little dew-kissed orchid between your legs, glistening-wet with invitation. 

Flicking a tongue over his upper lip, he crept close. His broad shoulders strained, his posture that of an elegant predator; as you saw the large outlines of his heavy cock stretching his navy-blue trousers, even hatred and horror couldn’t mask the pang of need that shot through your core.

Despite the panic, the traitorous instinct of life whispered of undisclosed, primal lust. You wished so badly you could fight or hide it, but alas there was no hiding from August. He could sense it, see it, and even taste it on his wicked tongue. 

“Gun then,” he answered and slid the knife back into the holster in his belt.

Your breath hitched as the mattress dipped beneath his weight, and you watched paralysed as he aimed the gun between your legs. Strong tremors coursed along your skin and your knees buckled and wobbled as the cold metal touched you; and yet, in that very moment, you did the impossible and moaned.

“Has it been that long since you had a dick inside you?” August observed with a vicious grin crisping his lips. It made his moustache twitch almost comically. 

“Don’t worry sweet angel, we’ll fix that soon.”

Pushing the gun between your kneecaps, he forced them open and ran the barrel feverishly down your inner thighs. The metal was freezing against your flesh, eliciting little tingles to spiral beneath the tender brush. Gasping, you looked away from him ashamed. You were terrified, not just of him, but from how much the wanton centre of your sex clenched from his ministrations.

You were bound and kidnapped by a dangerous man, and yet in your mind played the sick fantasies of him unbuckling his belt and giving you his full girth hard and wild. 

“You will soon have me in every hole,” August continued with a promise on his honeyed lips while lowering the brim of the weapon perilously close to your radiating heat and toying with the sensitive area teasingly. “I will make it hurt real bad, you’ll feel me there for days if not more,” he hummed and swerved the barrel between your engorged lips. 

“Please!” You gasped and writhed away slightly, tugging on the binds that began chafing your delicate skin. August raised his glare to meet your pleading eyes and leaned forward, his shadow looming over you entirely. Reaching one hand to your nape, he clutched you forcefully while his icy glare pierced right through your skull.

Slow and sensual he began to run the gun between your soft petals, gingerly grazing the hard shaft at the plump peak of flesh that made you cry out with both pleasure and despair. 

“Aww...” He keened and groaned. Never stopping his coaxing of your cunt with the still object, his breath huffed hot upon your cheek as he rounded his beautiful lips in faux pity. “Poor helpless little butterfly.”

Crying and dazed, you stared directly into his eyes. Words of plea kept running caged inside your head, unable to make their way out while you watched August’s large shoulder move back and forth. The movement resulting in the unwanted pleasure. Back and forth, he stroked you, gradually increasing the pace, and not without style even. Ruthless, August was keen on making you come.

You weren’t even sure what it was that you begged for at that point.

Grunts and sobs escaped your throat unwillingly. You squirmed and pushed against it, your body craving for more: not just for the rough friction that tingled at your cunt but also at the large bulge visible at his groin. The more rapture began to creep through your flowing tendons, the further you sank into delirium, wondering how he would feel like buried deep between your tight walls, fucking you the way only someone who has no boundaries would.

“Fuck!” You screamed, grinding against the metal while August leaned even closer and kissed the corner of your mouth before groaning and moaning at your lips. His hand worked hard between your thighs, the cold barrel now warm, the hollow edge coated with your elixir. 

The wall of your protests crumbled as the simmering surge of climax began pushing itself down your belly, leaving you teetering between self-loathing and ecstasy. 

“That’s right my beautiful butterfly, I’ll pluck your wings,” August promised in a husky whisper, watching you as you coiled and cried louder, your walls convulsing tightly around a sad, empty space as you came. If only you didn’t wish it was August choked between them instead.

As you slumped down, sweaty and breathless, he drawled a growl of content and slowly withdrew the gun to hold it next to your shivering face.

“I swear, Sloan’s assistants keep getting sluttier every year; the last one I fucked had a thing for me choking her,” he mocked while grazing the wet barrel against your cheek, “do you think you’d be into that too, sweetling? My hand around your throat?”  

Rounding your eyes in utter fear, you swallowed the dryness in your throat. August sighed with a malicious little grin while twisted awe danced between the blue, sparkling sapphires that examined you ecstatically, so fascinated by how easily he managed to break and bend you to his will.

Still holding the neck of the gun pressed next to your cheek, he reached the other hand above your head. A part of you was relieved for a moment, thinking he was about to untie the bind. 

But your hope quickly died as you felt his fingers rolling the ring that decorated your finger.

The diamond reflected onto the deep blue of his eyes as he examined it closely before throwing it directly into the fireplace.

“No!” You cried out brokenly, as the last memory of your old life disappeared in flames.

“Save your tears beautiful,” August retorted, his voice once again so soft it chilled your very core. He shifted his entire weight between your straddled thighs, and leaned in to kiss the wetness below your eye, “you won’t be needing it anymore.”

His tongue slipped out to collect the briny liquid that gathered on your cheek, and another hum of delight rumbled in his chest as his covered cock unmistakably ground against your mound, “I am your man from now on, might as well accept it and let me do whatever I want.”

Shivering under him, you took a deep breath, your body already swaying in demand as you felt him throbbing beneath the soft fabric of his pants. To your own horror, your head fell into a slow nod of shameful consent. 

It wasn’t just August you were afraid of, but also for yourself.    

[watermelonlipstick]

Parking Lot

This is a love letter to the Dean who told Cassie everything about his life after knowing her for 2 weeks and who didn’t see What Is And What Should Never Be as a horror show until he saw his bond with Sam was gone. I don’t think it would work for a later seasons Dean, who had pretty conclusively abandoned this idea for himself. I’d love any advice or critiques!!

Title: Parking Lot

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3801

Summary: A parking lot quickie leads to an illuminating argument between Dean and the reader.

Warnings: Swearing, smut, angst, ~*idiots in love*~, fluff

           In a couple ways it seemed like a lesson; you really shouldn’t have been fooling around in a parking lot no matter how late at night it was. Especially not a bar’s parking lot, potentially more likely to be busy at this hour, shadows be damned.

           But it wasn’t all your fault, not by a long shot. Dean knew exactly what he was doing, getting a Manhattan rather than his standard straight bourbon just for the cherry, rolling it around with his tongue and licking his fingers of the juice while you waited for the guys you were playing pool against to shoot.

           If Sam had been there you might’ve been able to keep it together for politeness’s sake, but you didn’t give a shit about these people and you weren’t doing research for a case, just blowing off steam post-job before heading out of town in the morning.

           Two could play at Dean’s game, though, you arching your back deep into the table to make a shot and practically purring “your turn” when he was up, hovering close enough to see the goosebumps spread over his neck when he smirked and obeyed. He finished the game lightning fast with a string of laser-focused shots and you silently downed the rest of his drink as the guys ponied up, tossing thick folds of cash onto the table and shaking Dean’s hand. You didn’t even feel guilty for hustling them, partly for their ignoring you but mostly for the distraction of Dean’s hands reracking the balls and grabbing your coat, sliding a palm to your lower back with his pinky just barely under your waistband. It was all you could do to wait until you get to the back of the parking lot to shove him up against the Impala and bite his bottom lip almost too hard before slipping your tongue into his mouth.

           You felt the smile and heard the groan at the same time, both pouring into your mouth as you ripped at Dean’s jacket, trying to yank his flannel off his shoulders with it. You abandoned the project to paw at Dean’s tee once you’d gotten the outer layers bunched down around his elbows, kissing him hungry and dark like he was yours to take.

           One of Dean’s bitten off groans trailed off into a barely-there whimper. For all his posturing he loved this, when he could give up being predator and let go for a few minutes to be your prey. He didn’t start fumbling for the door handle until you flicked open his belt, his other hand clutching at a handful of hair at the back of your neck and kissing down your jugular fast and hard. Imagining the way Sam was going to roll his eyes at the hickeys only added adrenaline while Dean finally got the backseat door open, sliding you in and unfurling on top of you. Still working on his jeans, you dragged him tight between your legs.

           “You are—so—mean,” you grinned between kisses. “Teasing me like—that.”

           Dean’s eyebrows kicked up on his forehead, playing dumb like you knew he would. “Me? Never.” His act dropped the moment you finally got his fly open, wrapping your hand around his cock through his boxers and punching all the air out of his lungs. His head rolled back on his neck almost violently, impossibly long eyelashes grazing his cheekbones and lips parted around a breathy “fuck.”

           His switch flipped, Dean scrambled to strip you as fast as possible. You tried to help him in large part to avoid tearing your clothes, ending up crushed into the leather of the bench seat somehow with one leg fully out of your jeans and underwear, the other knee tangled up in the fabric. He’d shoved up your shirt and bra and it would’ve been uncomfortable and tight if any of your senses had been turned to it instead of Dean wetting his middle finger to slip-slide along your clit, murmuring something about “I love it when you do that,” into the side of your neck as he swirled circles into you. After a few moments you were writhing in the seat and Dean pulled that finger back up, sucking you off of it before pushing it up inside you, then another.

           “Fuck me, Jesus Christ Dean,” you moaned against his tongue, yanking him forward until he guided himself into you. The stunted warm-up helped but that first push was always a shock, and whatever sound you made was loud enough that Dean covered your mouth with his hand, grinning conspiratorially down over fingers still steeped in you as he thumped you into the car door.

           “Quiet—someone’s going to hear you.”

           You bit his hand and Dean yelped with a chuckle, pulling it back before you roped around his neck and kissed him lasciviously. “Don’t tell me what to fucking do,” you smirked.

           He stabilized himself against the Impala’s door to pound into you harder, you wrapping your legs around his waist and whisper-moaning filthy nothings into his ear, biting his neck until suddenly you felt that finely honed awareness pique in the back of your mind, flaring hot enough to burn and you froze, thighs clamped tight around Dean.

           “Baby, I��”

           “Don’t fucking move—did you hear that?” you hissed.

           Dean tried to pull back and tensed hard, shuddering into you as you tried to lift your head to see as surreptitiously as possible before the delayed processing hit you. When you looked up at Dean he didn’t meet your eyes, wincing over one shoulder with his arms still planted.

           “Tell me you didn’t,” you whispered.

           He was silent for a half-second, still didn’t meet your eyes. “I tried t—you fucking death-gripped me with your legs, what was I supp—”

           “Oh my god, get off of me,” you yelped, trying your best to sit up and snatch at anything to clean yourself up before realizing it was useless. “FUCK! Fuck, Dean, fuck, what’re we going to—I can’t be—”

           He leaned back into the seat to get back into his jeans and fasten his belt. “One thing at a time, okay? They’ve got like pills and stuff right? We don’t even know if it’ll take.”

           You rolled your eyes angrily at him as you jammed your leg back into your jeans. “Our fucking luck it’s already triplets.” You ran a hand through your hair and took a deep, hard breath. “Okay, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped at you.”

           “No, I get it.” He slumped into the seat next to you. A long beat passed, you and Dean both sitting stupid, half-dressed in jeans and untied boots, hair all over the place. He cleared his throat. “Wanna head out?” His voice was small and rough; you knew he was sorry and maybe a little embarrassed. If you were more highly evolved you might’ve been able to console him more in that moment, but your heart was bounding through your chest about what was going to happen next—if. You managed to squeeze his hand in solidarity if nothing else before grabbing your stuff and moving to the front seat.

           Minutes of silent road passed before Dean reached over and covered your knee with his hand. You capped it with one of yours and saw his lips twitch up at the corner in response.

           He glanced over at you tentatively. “Maybe it uh, wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, you know?”

           Your incredulity spun you around in your seat so you were fully squared to him. “What?”

           It was dark in the car but you thought maybe Dean’s cheeks started to look pink. “I don’t know, teaching a little squirt how to play catch or whatever, might be cute.”

           “You cannot be serious.”

           His eyes flicked back over to you and his lips pursed out, trying to look non-plussed. “Whatever. Just trying to make you feel better.”

           “No, you’re not. Because that exact possibility is scaring the shit out of me right now and two minutes ago you were trying to convince me we were going to pill this away. So it’s—is that something you want? Having a kid someday?”

           Dean took his hand back under the guise of using two hands to turn the steering wheel.  “No.”

           You waited, willed your own heartbeat to slow down. As you knew he would, Dean kept talking, keeping his eyes on the road more to avoid the vulnerability of looking in your eyes rather than out of necessity on the long, straight stretch of road. “I don’t know. It really seems that bad to you? Having something that’s really, like, ours? Just you and me?”

           “We’re not talking about a something, Dean, we’re talking about a fucking kid.”

           “Jesus, fine, forget it. Sorry I asked.”

           His knuckles went white on the steering wheel and underlined that Dean Was Done Talking. What an absolute waste of a fun little night out, leaving Sam to have a couple hours alone. Now instead of getting back looser to a well-rested Sam, you were going to barrel into this crappy motel terrified with a pissed off Dean, dropping it all at the younger Winchester’s feet to deal with (again).

           It took you until the motel parking lot to muster up the courage to touch Dean’s wrist. “Can we talk for a second?” Dean pretended to be annoyed but you could tell it was an act shielding a spot of tenderness. He flopped his hands in his lap and looked over at you expectantly. “Maybe it’s dumb to even talk about this; like you said, it might be nothing. But I just—I mean if—do you really want that? What would that even look like? Not even with me or whatever obviously but leaving hunting, leaving Sam—”

           “Leaving Sam? Who said anything about leaving Sam?”

           “You volunteering him as nanny?”

           Dean sort of half-rolled his eyes and shifted to face you. “You know as well as I do that Sam doesn’t want to be doing this, not forever. I’m not saying we should be fucking trying, obviously, I’m just—I’m going to stick around no matter what happens. I wouldn’t ditch you with my mistake.”

           You scoffed. “How noble.”

           “Not like that. But I’m not a complete moron, I know we’ve played with fire a couple times and I know what I’m doing.”

           “I guess I just figured that was heat of the moment stuff.”

           A flash of something passed over his face, gone almost too fast for you to decipher. Offense? Sadness? “Yeah, part of it. But you—you’ve never even thought about it?”

           “Thought about how I’d get a couple hundred dollars and find a clinic, yeah. I—we can’t be hunters with a baby. And I won’t be stashed in some safe house somewhere, see you and Sam for a day or two every couple months, be the loner single mom who can’t tell anyone anything about her life.”

           “Single mom? I’m not a fucking deadbeat. I just said I wouldn’t make you deal alone.”

           You shot him an exasperated look and took a deliberate breath to keep from rising to the bait. “So what, now you want to get married? Dean, I’m not even really your damn girlfriend.”

           He reached for the handle fast enough that you had to scramble across the seat after him, Dean pausing in the open door. “Look, if it’s not what you want, that’s fucking fine. But don’t patronize me. Not my fucking girlfriend? Fuck you.”

           You flew across the Impala and out of the passenger door, following Dean as he stormed across the asphalt. “Fuck me? How are you mad at me?”

           He spun on his heel in the parking lot. “I tell you I’m willing to leave all of this—all of everything I really know, fucked up as that is—for you, would make you my whole future and you, you—your response is that you’re not even my girlfriend? Yeah, fuck you.”

           “Dean, that’s not what I—” but he had already started storming back to the room. “DEAN!” you yelled, standing stock still in the middle of the lot. He paused with his back to you for what felt like a long second before turning back around. “I don’t want to bring this back to Sam. I’m sorry, okay? I’m just—I’m scared shitless about something that might not even happen and then you spring the idea of some shotgun wedding on me—”

           He rolled his eyes without even a hair of humor, the muscles in his jaw tensing hard enough to catch the cold overhead light. “See, how can you—” he started, before taking a deep, deliberate breath and starting over in a tone that was forced calm. “That’s everything I ha—that’s all I can give you, is loving you and fucking being there for you. So if it’s that fucking cheap or skanky to you then I’m sorry for wasting your fucking time.” When you didn’t respond his spine straightened a few degrees. “What? Say something. Tell me how stupid I am for suggesting that being tied together might not ruin your fucking life.”

           You felt that your mouth had fallen open but didn’t care. “You love me?”

           Dean’s face contorted like he was looking at a mirage of something bizarre, curious and disbelieving and frustrated. “I lo—of course I love you, what the fuck?”

           “Y—you’ve never said that to me.”

           “What? Yes I have.” His voice softened a shade, the certainty his anger had afforded him beginning to slip away like sand at high tide, but his eyebrows stayed indignant.

           You’d never been more certain of anything in your life, that Dean had never said that, because it was something you wanted constantly. Craved, even. Were kept awake at night by; the desire to have your feelings for Dean reciprocated too intense even to dream about. So you justified and bargained with yourself: if fooling around and this kind of casual commitment—girl who would cover him and Sam in a firefight and didn’t hound him for a label—was what he wanted, it was what you would give. Anything for more time with him or the chance to kiss those lips, to see the way he looked first thing in the morning, to get annoyed at his bullshit idiosyncrasies.            

           “No, you haven’t.” So many more words tried to burst forward from you that you had to bite your lip to be sure your mouth stayed closed.

           Dean held your eyes, willing you to say something until he lost his patience. “Who says that stupid shit all the time anyway? You know I love you; I’d do fucking anything for you.” His voice had started to rise again but the heat behind it was some sort of hungry desperation, not hurt rage. “I’m—you don’t think I love you?”

           You started to feel completely exposed by the industrial light, seared alive by green eyes. Shifting your weight from foot to foot didn’t help, and you fought angrily against the lump forming in your throat.

           He looked over his shoulder and the barked “FUCK!” startled you despite yourself. “Kid, I—FUCK, that’s what this is? I loved you since that first fucking hunt in Cleveland! You really think I’m just…? This isn’t some Beaver Cleaver ‘I put you in a family way’ bullshit, I—I don’t know, I just, with you it feels like for the first time maybe it’s not insane to think that I could—that we could—whatever, man, I’m not fucking talking about this.” A hand shot up to rub the back of his neck, a nervous tic you recognized immediately.

           You took two big steps toward him. “Dean, I just—I didn’t know. That’s—I mean I’m not going to say I’ve been thinking about it; but it—it’s more because I didn’t even think it was on the table, you know? I thought we were, I don’t know, really close friends that sleep together.”

           Dean’s eyebrows flew up his forehead and he blew an almost-laugh out of his nose. “I don’t even know what to say to that. Never heard of any friends that live together and fuck raw.” His tongue slid along his molars and he sucked his teeth looking down at the ground, flicker of a despondent, self-deprecating smile twitching his lips. “Uh, noted, I guess. Sorry I misunderstoo—” and his eyes on the blacktop prevented him from seeing you cross the few strides between you, catching him off guard when you kissed him hard enough to bruise, hard enough to feel everything you wanted to say, wanted to scream (at him, from the rooftops, ohmygodhelovesme) take a backseat for a moment. He grunted at the impact, stunned for a half-beat before surging forward into you, wrapping into your hair and pawing at your hips with desperate effort to get closer. Feeling the grin against your mouth, you wished you weren’t standing in the absolute middle of the parking lot, frenzy to have something to push each other against building to a fever pitch inside you when Dean tugged your hair back to look at your face.

           He looked downright pornographic; swollen, flushed pout and impossible lashes framing bedroom eyes Marilyn or Sophia would’ve envied. A washing of cockiness only amplified the effect, those pillowy lips pulling into a lazy smirk. “So is this a really-close-friends kiss or what? Trying to figure out how much tongue I’m supposed to slip you.”

           You giggled good-naturedly, letting the weight of your head press into his palm. “You are such an asshole.”

           “Yeah, you fuckin’ love it.” He sucked on that sweet pulse spot under your ear deeply, some accessory movement with his tongue enough to make you see stars and miss that it was you letting out that ungraceful whine-moan. When Dean spoke the air passing over your spit-slick neck exploded in goosebumps. “And I love you.”

           Dean kissed you in that searching, delicious, eat-you-alive way he sometimes did after a particularly victorious hunt when he either had all the time in the world or didn’t give a fuck about making it; soothing-probing with a little edge of danger that hypnotized you. It pulled at the sweater of your being and tugged, steady and cloying until you were something loose and ephemerous in Dean’s hands, something equally likely to float away or explode right there in that parking lot, clearing a hundred miles in every direction and leaving behind only the imprint of your craving for him. It’s a miracle your brain was able to function at all. In the best circumstances this flayed you open and coming on the heels of having the most beautiful gift you could imagine dropped at your feet—Dean loves you, he loves you and always has—it felt like it could stop your heart and you wouldn’t care.

           “I need about twenty minutes in a cold shower or I promise I’ll knock you up right the fuck here,” Dean growled, low with sin directly into your ear.

           You laughed breathily. “I thought you said that might be a good thing.”

           His chuckle was rough as he pressed his lips to the crown of your head. He rested there for a moment before murmuring into your hair. “You really thought we were just messing around?”

           “Dean, come on, I—don’t make me say it.”

           “Say what?”

           You swallowed shakily, tried to get a handle on your thoughts through the endorphins. “You—I—I’ve had it bad for you, thought if I really like, acknowledged it that it might fuck up what I did get to have of you or that some commitment would freak you out or whatever so I just—I don’t know, tried to be cool about it. Obviously we’ve always been kind of ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ when we were apart—”

           Dean cut off your rambling. “Uh, has there been something you’ve been ‘don’t tell’-ing? I wasn’t ‘don’t ask don’t tell’-ing.”

           “You haven’t?” you asked, surprised enough to be knocked off your nebulous trail of thought.

           “No, I mean—no. You would’ve been fine with that?” The disbelief was so clear on his face it was practically casting a glow around him.

           “Not fine with it—of course not—the thought of it kept me up nights, but I didn’t you to think I was some jealous freak.”

           A smile spread over his face slowly, butter on hot toast. “So you would’ve been jealous?”

           “I was jealous, I thought that’s what was happening.”

           Dean’s head lolled back on his neck a few degrees, smirk cementing itself in place. “That’s kinda hot.”

           It took the tension out of the moment and you chuckled under your breath, glancing down at your feet. “Yeah, you would say that right now, psycho.” It was breathy and shaky but Dean let you have it, throwing his elbow around your neck affectionately and tucking you into his side. With a kiss to the crown of your head, he started you both walking to the room lazily. At the door, you stilled him as he reached for the knob.

           “Would you really want to keep it? Like, no bullshit, if that’s the situation, that I’m actually—you know, you wouldn’t want me to…?”

           He licked his lips and bit the bottom one. They parted for a moment before he began to speak as his gaze flicked between your eyes. “Babe,” he finally breathed, and there was a note of croak there. “I’m in this for the long haul. If that’s where we’re going then we’ll deal with it. If you don’t—if you’re not there, I get it, but for me, I—yeah. If it’s going to be anyone for me, it’s you.”

           “Even now?”

           “I could think of worse things. Worse things have happened to me this week, probably.”

           There were so many follow up questions running through your mind, so many rock-solid certainties that Dean wouldn’t really be able to quit hunting, that even figuring out how to go to an OB-gyn on fake IDs was likely to be more complicated than either of you realized, but his lack of hesitation was so sweet, so earnest, and you were still riding that he loves me high. And you might’ve gotten lucky; it might be nothing, no parking lot baby to contend with, just a tense reminder to be more careful next time. It was easier than you might’ve thought to give yourself permission to relish it for the night, consequences be damned.  

-

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[sebstan2020]

Watching

Billy Russo x Reader

Warnings: Smut, Bondage, Knife play, Dom/Sub, Orgasms, Blow Job

You struggle in the binds that held you in the cold, dank room. It was lit with lights across the ceiling and the walls were chipped with green paint. A faint drip of water sounded in the corner of the room and the clink of chains was the only sound along with your muffled groans. Your hands were bound above you in cuffs attached to a chain falling from the ceiling. Resting on your knees, your feet were cuffed to a ring on the floor behind you. A black mask had been strapped around your mask, going over your nose and under you chin and buckled tightly behind your head, silencing your voice.

You had no idea how long you had been like this, chained in this room but your knees had gone numb from putting all your weight on them. The cuffs were digging into your wrists and causing sores across the skin as you rattled them. Your arms becoming tired and how you wished you were able to put them down for at least a second.

In front of you was a table and a chair next to it. To the side was an old cabinet and a bunch of metal cases and military oil cans. The door was across the room down a small hallway and another door on the other side like a fire exit. The room was unlike any other… grungy and ugly. It screamed that something bad was going to happen and judging from the state you were in, it was likely.

Suddenly, a loud clang made you jump and your eyes stared forward, wide and terrified as you heard footsteps scuffing the floor. A man came into your line of vision as he strolled over. He was tall, at least 6ft and dressed in a green jumper with black jeans and black boots. His black hair was combed back and shaved at the sides, a neat trimmed beard across his jaw. He was handsome to say the least but that didn’t mean anything right now.

You swelled the lump in the back of your throat and felt the soreness sting. The mask gag had made your throat dry from only being able to swallow your saliva and the inside of the mask was covered in it, wetting your chin. As the man strolled closer, his arms swinging casually by his side, a smirk appeared on his lips and he stopped by the table.

“Well well, look at you” he says and sits on the edge of the table, hands gripping the edges and he stares at you. Your heart starts to pound against your chest and your hands nervously grip the chains above, rattling them.

“Comfortable enough” he asks, even though he knows you cannot speak. You shuffle on the floor, the restraints holding you in place and the man pushes himself off the table and pads forward towards you. Your stomach clenches and your eyes dash up to meet his. Their dark and sexy, staring at you intently. As he stands close, a wiff of cologne seeps through the edges of the mask and makes you melt but the chains hold you up.

“You know I’ll be honest, when Rawlins said I had to take care of someone, I didn’t expect it to be a pretty young girl like you” he says with a smile and you blink a few times, gazing at him. He starts to walk around you, circling you like your prey. His boots scuff on the floor and when he reappears next to you, you then notice then gun strapped in a holster and a knife strapped in a guard attached to his belt on his waist. This only made you more nervous and scared.

“But then I realise that this better than I thought. He only said to take care of you, he didn’t say how… in fact I’m sure he said I could do whatever I liked, as long as I get what he wants from you” he smirks and slowly leans over, hands resting on his knees and your head turns to look at him.

“So, shall we get started” he nods and you gulp, giving him terrified eyes and he chuckles before walking back in front of you. He stands for a few seconds, admiring you as you are, chained up and vulnerable.

“God I can’t get over how pretty you are, even under that mask” he steps to the side of you and leans down again, his lips close to your ear and you close your eyes as he whispers gently.

“Seeing you like this, all tied up, nowhere to go, completely under my control” he breaths, his warm breath tickling your neck and he leans forward, lips pressing to your ear and teeth biting the top, pulling gently. You hold back the moan in your throat, not wanting to give him the satisfaction he wants of knowing he’s turning you on. You can feel the pleasure building up between your legs.

It was clear this man was here to get some answers or something out of you but you had no idea what. The name he mentions earlier… Rawlins didn’t ring any bells for you and now you were stuck in a room with this handsome man, wondering what he was going to do to you.

He releases your ear and circles behind you again, appearing on your left side once again and he leans over again to reach your eyeline.

“Do you know who I am?” He asks, chin held high and you shake your head.

“My name is Billy… but for today you can call me Sir” he smirks.

“Do you know why you’re here?” He says and you shake you head slowly. If you did you’d be giving him the answers he wanted so you could get the hell out of here. But you knew you were nowhere near that stage. This man was going to have fun with you.

“Rawlins told me that your boyfriend has been in a bit of trouble… that he has deceived him and stolen something from him… do you know what that is?” Billy says as he steps back in front and you look up and shake your head in shock. Your boyfriend Daniel of 5 years, he never mentioned being in trouble. He was never one to steal anything from anyone. He was a smart, caring, loving accountant, what could he need to steal?

“He stole $100,000 from him, wired it to his own account and thought he could get away with it. Now I don’t know about you but if I was him I would have been more careful and clever about stealing $100,000 from a special agent of the marines, wouldn’t you” he quirks his eyebrow and you gulp once again, your throat bobbing and you nod your head, scared if you didn’t answer of what he might do to you. You shuffle nervously on your knees and the man starts to circle once again. Even him just walking around you made you intimidated.

“Rawlins is not the kind of guy to betray like that and really we wanted your boyfriend here so we could work him over, get the answers we needed but I was surprised when Rawlins told me he wanted you instead… maybe he thought it would be easier with a girl”.

“Or maybe he wanted to get back at your boyfriend for what he did and he’d have to live with it for the rest of his life” Billy shrugs and comes to your left side, crouching down next to you.

“Either way, I get to have some fun” he smiles and reaches up to brush a piece of fallen hair away with one finger. You flinch slightly and tug on the chains, your wrists digging into the metal and you wince from the pain.

“Shhh easy now, we haven’t even started” he whispers and his hand brushes over your chest, feeing your breasts beneath your top. Looking down you watch as Billy runs his hand along you stomach and his fingers slowly inch closer to between your legs. His hand creeps between your legs, pressing on your mound and you hold back the moan inside as the pleasure deepens. Just the pressure from his fingers makes you wet and if the mask wasn’t covering your face, you’d be blushing blood red.

“This is how it’s going to work, your going to do everything I say, obey my every command and be a good girl… otherwise I’ll have to punish you” he whispers.

“You don’t want that do you?” Billy asks and you shake your head… even though right now, his words are turning you on more than you thought. His hand still continued to rub the fabric of your trousers and his fingers pressing on your clit made you squirm under his hold.

“No, that’s right”.

Suddenly the moan you had been holding in released but was muffled by the gag. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t heard you and as soon as the sound left your soaked saliva lips, he smirked once again and pressed his lips to your ear.

“Is this turning you on, my hand rubbing against your aching pussy. I bet you like this sort of thing don’t you, tied up nowhere to go and at the mercy of a strong, dominant man” Billy teases. Daniel was nowhere near as dominant and alluring as this man and he was never dominant in bed.

“Knowing that right now you can’t do anything, can’t even speak a fucking word, it’s thrilling isn’t it, feeling helpless, vulnerable” his voice is sexy and soft which only makes you wetter. Your eyes turn to meet his dark ones and he lets out a puff of laughter.

“I’m right, you defiantly like this” Billy smirks and his hand leaves you for a few seconds. The sharp scrape of a knife being pulled from his guard and the glint of light from the metal makes your heart start to thud against your chest. He holds the knife delicately in his right hand, running the tip down your chest, swirling it around your t-shirt and you watch intently.

“First I think we need to get rid of some of these clothes” he says and you try to keep your body still as he hooks the knife underneath your t-shirt, pulling the sharp blade up and instantly ripping it in half to reveal your breast. Your hands grip the cuffs again in fear and your eyes widen in terror. One slip and you could be bleeding on the floor… or maybe that’s his intention.

Billy places the knife against your skin, the cold metal burning and your breathing becomes ragged and heavy.

“Careful, one wrong move and I could cut you” Billy warns and you swallow hard, your eyes focused on the knife.

“Does this scare you, my knife?” He asks and you nod.

“Good” he smiles and he turns the knife so the tip is pressed into your skin, not hard enough to cut it open but to press an indent. He then begins to run the tip along your chest, down between your breasts and across your stomach. You were scared but at the same time the thrill of the sharp weapon being dragged along your body sparked desire and excitement inside you. It just reminded you who was in control.

His knife comes to the band of your trousers and he slowly slips it inside, turning the blade to the fabric pushes against it and you feel a slightly sting on your waistline. Did he cut you?

You look down with fear in your eyes but see no sign of blood or injury to your skin. You grip the cuffs tighter, fingers turning white and veins popping out the back of your hand, your arms straining as you watch him tear the band, the knife reaching closer to your panties. He didn’t even have to put pressure on the knife, it was so sharp it could cut through anything. He pushes the blade down the leg of your trousers, tearing the fabric and your skin is now exposed. The coldness from the room makes you shiver but your eyes never leave the knife.

Billy brings it back up and cuts the other leg open, trailing it down to your ankles. With a clatter of the knife being dropped on the floor, Billy takes the fabric and rips it, the material tearing loudly in the room and your legs are now exposed completely, your pale skin on show. Billy removes the rest of your trousers and quickly grabs the knife to remove the rest of your top. He throws the torn clothes to the other side of the room, leaving you in your underwear.

A smile grows on his face and his hand starts to caress your skin gently, his fingers running over every inch of you. You can’t help but want to moan as Billy trails his fingers down to your sweet spot and starts to rub small circles, pleasure tingling your legs.

“You like that?” He murmurs in your ear and you nod your head, eyes closed and short breaths escaping through the mask. He lets out a dark chuckle and suddenly the rubbing stops. Your eyes shoot open and you whimper as your pleasure slowly disappears, leaving you hungry for more.

“I think my turn now” he stands, walking in front of you and his hand cups the bottom of your jaw, turning your head up to look you straight in the eye.

“Do you want to make me feel good?” He says with his husky voice and the feeling inside you makes you nod your head with delight. Was it fear or excitement or both… you didn’t know. A smirk creeps on his lips and he shoves your head down to your chest, his fingers working the buckle of the mask gag and when he releases it, saliva pools from your mouth as he pulls the gag away, throwing it carelessly to the side. You can finally breath properly and you look up to him, wide eyes and parted lips. His hand snakes around the back of your head and closes in your hair, getting a good grip and he yanks your head back.

“Well?” He raises his brows, waiting for you.

“Umm…Ah” a sharp slap hits your cheek but his grip in your hair stops your head from whipping to the side.

“What do you say?” He demands and you take a second to gather yourself before answering.

“Please?” You said hesitantly.

“Please what?” He continues.

“Please can I make you feel good?” You whisper and another slap hits your cheek, a yelp echoing in the room.

“What else… you are missing something?” You desperately try to think of what he might be talking about. Then you remembered.

“Sir?” You said questionably and the smile appears on his lips.

“Good girl” he praises which sends a tingle to your spot and he releases your head to make work on undoing his button on his jeans. He unzips them and reaches inside to pull his member out, stroking it while his other hand resumes in your hair.

“Open” he presses the tip to your lips and you open immediately, letting his member inside. The skin is soft and he pushes himself all the way inside, the tip hitting the back of your throat and you struggle not to gag. Your hands twist and turn in the cuffs, showing your discomfort and Billy lets out a groan as he starts to thrust in and out of your mouth slowly.

Saliva drips from your mouth on to your chest and he builds up his pace, choking noises coming from you and when his other hand wraps in your hair, holding your head steady, he starts to pound your mouth deeper, his teeth gritting together as groans escape.

“Fuck you feel so good” he moans and his member hits your throat over and over again. You suck hard on his member, the idea of pleasing him making you feel good as well and you feel his member start to twitch inside.

“God, your mouth is so fucking good” he groans and he then pulls out, finally letting you have a breather. You catch your breath quickly, afraid he’ll start back up again but instead he trails behind you, kneeling down and he grabs your hips with both hands, positioning you so your slightly bent forward. The cuffs on your wrist have now started to make you bleed and blood trickles down your arms.

“You want to get fucked” he whispers in your ear as he makes work with his jeans, tugging them down and you nod. Your sweet spot was soaked with juice and you didn’t want to be denied anymore.

“Yes Sir” you breath and he chuckles deeply, kissing your ear quickly and then rips your panties off, throwing them to the side. He positions himself behind, the tip pressed against your slit and he pushes inside, hands gripping your waist as he fucks you hard.

“Ahh” you moan, your hair bobbing back and forth as he pounds inside you from behind, one hand reaching to snake around your neck and grip it tightly, the other holding your hair again. It all made you feel so good and right there you had completely forgotten the reason you were here and the fact that he had a gun and knife.

“Fuck me your so tight” he moans and the grip on your neck turns you on more.

“You like this don’t you, being fucked by a total stranger, because your boyfriend is in trouble” he says in your ear and you nod, your eyes now shut as the pleasure over takes you. You feel your orgasm coming and your legs start to shake and tingle.

“Say it” he demands.

“I like it Sir” you puff.

“Yeah you fucking do, I’m going to make you come so hard, you won’t be able to even walk” he grits and his voice only makes it ten times hotter. He pounds you harder and harder until you cannot hold on anymore and you release over him, your legs shaking and moans screaming.

Billy releases your neck and grips your shoulder, slamming into you harder and the pleasure now turns painful as he carries on after your orgasm.

“Oh my god” you groan and he slams into you once more before a long groan escapes him, signalling his own release inside. Your head drops down and you hear him catching his own breath, his fingers scraping your back, nails scratching your skin and he pulls out. Your body is covered in sweat and wrists in blood. Billy pads around you, walking to the table and picks up a phone, dialing a number and then looks back at you, that smirk on his lips.

“Did he watch?” He says and you look up. He must be talking about Daniel.

“Good… yeah she won’t say anything… alright” he hangs up abruptly and throws the phone on the table, walking back over. You look up with wide eyes and watch as he uncuffs your wrists, holding them steady as having them elevated for so long has made it painful to move them. You hiss as he gently brings them down for you and you look at your sore bleeding wrists.

“Careful now, easy… that’s it” he murmurs softly and he brings you up on your feet. You wobble as you stand and he holds you up, his hands gripping your elbows. Looking up with why eyes, you open your mouth to speak but no words come out.

“Your boyfriend’s be dealt with now, and after that little show I’m sure he won’t do anything like this again” he smirks and you realise what he means. You eyes wonder around the room and suddenly you notice the camera on the ceiling, pointing down at you.

He watched the whole thing. Watch you get fucked by this handsome yet scary man and watched you enjoy it.

[black-dhalias]

Smooth Talker

Platonic!Thranduil X Reader

There's hesitation as your eyes glare holes into the throne room door, wishing you could set on fire the man just beyond. Wish they could feel the heat of dragon fire beneath their toes. You wish you could make them feel every bit as terrible as you do. Two elvish guards stand on either side, hands tightly grasped around the chains that lead to the shackles around your wrists and ankles— you know they are scared, and you with you could frighten them more, but then you'd no better. The doors open, and you step inside, leading your guards rather than it being the other way around. You find yourself glaring at the one and only, King of the Woodland Realm, Lord Thranduil.

A part of you knows that you should be quivering with fear, shaking in your boots, but you're not scared of some make believe King. He holds no power over you. There's a stubbornness in your stare, and stiffness to your back as you take in the pompous King. His long fingers drum against the wooden arm of the throne, the noise irritating.

"You're too tall to be a dwarf." Lord Thranduil's voice is not how you would have imagined it to be, rather than rough and uncaring, it seems smooth and velevety. Arguably enchanting. You grimace, he insults you by calling you a dwarf and you rattle the chains a bit, which worries the poor guards. The King smirks and you sneer, he knows— "A skin changer, if I'm not mistaken." He steps down and approaches, his movements are precise as he settles standing directly in front of you. Like you, he holds no fear.

"What if you are mistaken?" You challenge and he rolls his bright icy orbs in reply, as he reaches out to place his index finger under your chin, lifting your gaze. He leans forward.

"I am never mistaken." He drops your chin and begins to walk circles around you, like a predator does to its prey. Only you won't give in so easily.

"Then you know what I'm capable of." He nods, and your shoulders drop, at least he knows that much. He seems to know more about you than you are comfortable with, and a part of you wishes to return back to the company. They believe you to just be of the race of man, dangerous, but nothing unnatural.

"Oh I do. You transform into a terrifying wolf, nearly unstoppable." You beam, but he tsks in response. Out of the corner of your eye, the two guards stiffen. At least you've stuck fear into them. "Key word: nearly." You do not doubt that he could stop you, but what's to stop you from taking out a couple guards. He shrugs, as he finishes his circle, standing directly in front of you. "I wonder what your dwarvish companions would think of your predicament." This time, you stiffen, mind drifting back to your time with Beorn.

"Once there were many-" he pauses, eyes flickering to you as you stare at your plate, everything that you are as of now, rests in the hands of a complete stranger. "Now there is only one." Your eyes widen and you stare up at the great man, you are a child in his eyes— barely even into adulthood, but he knows what you are and he is keeping your secret.

Later in the night you approach him, swallowing down the bile rising in your throat as you used to think you were alone— that you were something unnatural, and now, you have a name. You have another of your kind. "Thank you." He stands stiffly beside you, but nods, his eyes locked in the horizon.

"Where are your parents?" It's a long shot to think that there might be more skin changers out there, but it's worth a shot.

"Dead. But only my mother was a skin changer." Beorn half expected that, just two skin changers in a very big world. But this means he isn't alone, and that humans and skin changers can have children. He nods, smiling— he may not have anyone, but his race will live on.

"Where is your family?" You ask, hoping that you are not the only two. You don't want to be the only two, although you've never even had that much.

"Dead." You chuckle darkly, glancing up at him.

"That's messed up." He smiles down at the girl, a friend— that is what he has now.

"Definitely."

You stare up at the Elvenking, pleading with him with your eyes. Just wanting to have a chance to tell the Company yourself. They deserve to hear the truth from you, and no one else. Lord Thranduil shrugs his lean shoulders, "I do not care to share your secrets. I just want your word." He wrinkled his nose. "While you were here, your companions made an escape." Your eyes widen in surprise and before you can say anything, he hushes you with his hand. "I need to jewels from the mountain, and you will take them as your share, and I will let you go."

Sure, you should have said no, but as you walk freely out of the Woodland realm with enough food and weapons for three people— you are content. What use do you have for money? And if the elvenking taught you anything, sometimes all you need is the ability to smooth talk the enemy.

Something short and sweet I wrote this morning.

[peachyteez]

little wanderer ≫ DAY FIVE, THE MAN DRESSED IN BLACK.

this fellow stray cat hybrid has been hanging around jiyu’s condo for as long as he could remember, although jiyu may not have noticed him. the cold winter breeze and jiyu’s open bedroom window prompts him to sneak into her bedroom one night. it was just suppose to be one night, but the gods must’ve been smiling upon him.

PART OF THE HEAVEN SERIES.

✧ taglist: @defsoul15, @jaeminpeachy, @joongiebug, @sunsethw4, @t-tbinnie, @chanyeolol, @danibookmarks, @hello-its-ya-boi, @murralyn, @alienmashup, @panini, @moon8894, @koasworld, @taetae123094, @luv3rxcha, @treasure-hwa, @etherealbyeol, @hwaseongzzz, @lovely-sanie, @orbitiiny, @pirate-of-the-dark-seas, @babydolljo, @ms-starlight, @everrrlasting, @bls-luv-me, @atzgiggle, @arohabyeol, @rainbowmagicpixecorn, @soverystupid, @ayetothezee, @kingalls00, @sanstreasure0305, @sparklingmallow, @kpopnightingale, @rosesarethebest, @stillcantfindaproperusername, @bonbonhwa, @its-sarah-stark, @sanismybb, @frankenstein852, @peachseok, @woopetals, @exhofayemars, @pvrkacciosan, @c-sanshine

✧ notes: well this chapter took a turn 😭

✧ WARNING(S): mentions of misogyny, brief story of san attacking someone, a curse word (?)

back。|  next。

if jiyu had a dollar for every time she had been woken up in the middle of the night in the past week—well, she wouldn’t be rich, but she’d have a substantial amount of pocket change. 

“jiyu!” mingi whispered, gently shaking her out of her slumber. “wake up!”

groaning, she habitually scooted over to make room on the bed since mingi usually wandered into her room in the middle of the night due to nightmares. “just don’t take all the blanket—”

“no! this is urgent!” he frantically tried explaining. “i think someone’s trying to break in!”

her eyes instantly shot open and she immediately sat right up in bed. “mingi, why didn’t you just start with that?” she frantically whispered back, hurriedly slipping on a hoodie. 

“i tried, but you kept grumbling!”

“okay, we’ll have this conversation again later. let’s just see if the others are awake.” slowly opening her bedroom door, she and mingi peeked their heads out to see if anyone was outside. while they didn’t see anyone, they heard footsteps and clutters out by the front door. 

mingi clutched onto her hoodie as his eyes clamped shut out of terror and his ears were slumped down. jiyu took his hand in her’s and rubbed comforting circles on his knuckles. “shh, it’s okay mingi.”

while whispering to mingi, she noticed the others tip-toeing towards them as to not alert the perpetrator that they were awake. being the predator hybrids, seonghwa, hongjoong, and yeosang were on full alert. yunho scurried over to her and mingi, quietly whimpering, while san stood and frowned at the front door.

“i didn’t think they’d come so soon...” he mumbled once he caught whiff of the familiar human scent.

“was this the one that hurt you?” hongjoong whispered. 

san nodded. “he works for my...old owners. i thought he stopped tracking me down a while ago until the other night.” he looked to the floor, guilt flashing across his features. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to drag you into my affairs—”

jiyu interrupted while holding onto yunho and mingi. “san, i’ve mentioned it before, we chose to help you, meaning we won’t abandon you even if we’re also pulled into danger. so don’t apologize, okay?” 

seeing her small smile of reassurance, his guilt multiplied. but he couldn’t do anything about it now, so he just nodded while promising himself that he wouldn’t let a single hair on their heads get hurt. even if he would be the one to take the blunt of the pain.

“oi, choi san! i know you’re in there.”

they all froze at the unknown voice from the front door.

“why don’t you open the door and we can just talk this out like grown men?”

san climbed down the stairs and stood a distance away from the front door. seonghwa and hongjoong followed in case. “you beat me to a pulp the last time, and now you just want to talk? i don’t think so,” he hissed. 

the person on the other side let out a low chuckle. “ah, apologies for that. although you and i both know that it’d be a shame if you were too badly...injured. they do want you alive and well, after all. i can’t kill you, san.”

a moment of silence passed as they all held their breaths, anticipating the next move. but much to their surprise, the person showed no signs of breaking down the front door and wreaking havoc. 

“in all seriousness, san, i really did come to talk. no weapons, just to talk.”

“seonghwa,” jiyu whispered down to the wolf hybrid. “you can check the security camera over there,” she pointed to her tablet that was on the living room table. luckily, when they had first moved in, she had installed two security cameras, both so small to the human eye that anyone would just gloss over it. 

“and again, what makes you think i’d believe you?” san asked, while watching the wolf hybrid from the corner of his eye. seonghwa pulled up the security footage to see a man wearing a long, black trench coat, and his face was obscured by a black fedora hat. he stood with his hands in his pockets, and his overall figure practically screamed danger. 

suddenly, the man took out folded papers from his pockets and held it up—almost as if he knew they were watching him. “because i came with something that you’ve been after ever since you left.”

san’s eyes widened and his body froze. there’s no way—

“so what’s the move?” hongjoong asked to both san and jiyu. 

judging from his reaction, jiyu had a hunch that whatever the unknown man brought was really important to san. she didn’t know what it was, but looking at the security footage, he didn’t seem like he was hiding anything. and his voice, she could be hearing things, but it seemed as if it held a tinge of remorse.

“carefully open the door,” she decided. “but don’t let your guard down.”

despite looking he had some objections, hongjoong and seonghwa carefully walked ahead of san, who was still frozen in spot, and cracked the door open. they both anticipated either gunshots or the person to come barging through them, but they both peeked out to see the man standing there patiently.

“oh? i see you made some friends,” he commented. “meaning...you’re taking refuge with another human?”

“try anything funny, i’ll make sure you never step out of here alive,” seonghwa snarled before opening the door wide enough for the man to come in. hongjoong stood eyed the man suspiciously, as he waltzed in, stopping in front of san. 

with a better look at the man, they all noticed a mask that covered up to his eyes. the man was tall, but falling just a little short of yunho’s height, and he seemed to be in his mid-thirties or late-twenties. 

despite being terrified out of there wits, and even though yeosang was standing protectively by them, mingi and yunho stood in front of jiyu, scared that the man would try to harm her. but their shaking didn’t go unnoticed from her. she held their hands, hoping it could comfort them.

“i see you’ve aged well,” the man noted, looking san up and down. “to be quite honest, i’m surprised you managed to survive out on the streets all these years. i—no we, were sure you’d give up and come back.”

“as if i’d ever go back,” san lowly, but firmly stood his ground.

the man smirked before taking a look around at each of them. “so where’s your little human friend?”

she stepped out from behind yunho and mingi before peering down over the railings. “what business do you have here?” with the exception of yunho and seonghwa, they were all surprised at her composed and level-headed state.

letting out a huff of disbelief, he started straight up at her. “i wasn’t expecting a woman.”

“hm, sorry to disappoint then,” she sneered.

she was used to the misogynistic treatment; even back at home, people always underestimated her abilities since she was a girl. she’s heard the comments, backhanded compliments, and seen the undermining looks as people doubted her. but she swore to prove them wrong one day, even though she took five years off.

“so again, what do you want here?”

the man chuckled again at her defensive tone before holding his hands up. “i come in peace, ma’am.”

“and for your own sake, i hope that’s true,” she bit back before coming down the stairs. she left mingi and yunho with yeosang. the man let out an airy chuckle before making himself comfortable on the couch, aware of seonghwa’s and hongjoong’s preying gaze on him. 

“...did you really bring it?” san asked, not wanting to get his hopes up. this was the same man that hunted him down for years on end, yet he came here, claiming that he managed to retrieve the items san really wanted? it was near to impossible that he was telling the truth, but there was that sliver of hope.

bringing out the papers once again, the man laid it on the coffee table in front of him. “you can check for yourself. i may work for them, but i’m a man of my word.”

jiyu waltzed over and peered at the papers the man laid out. her eyebrows furrowed at the contents. his birth certificate and adoption forms? 

coming up next to her, san stared at the forms with widened eyes. they were indeed what he had been after for the past few years, and the man really did bring it to him. so many questions ran through his head that he couldn’t even form a single sentence. the home was dropped into a tense silence, the only sound being the ticking of the clock above the dining table. 

seconds turned into a minute before san could croak out a sentence, or rather, a question. “b-but, why—”

“i’ve had a lot of time—years—to think,” the man leaned back on the couch and stared up at san. “it’s pretty stupid and childish to chase you down for something that wasn’t even your fault, don’t you think?”

san was still cautious. “so you took these for me to do...what?”

“well, what do you think?” the man leaned forward, resting his arms in his lap.

jiyu’s eyes slightly widened with surprise. “you want to set him free, don’t you...” 

“that’s one way of putting it, yes.”

“there’s a catch, there’s always a catch,” san sarcastically scoffed. “no way you’d give these to me for free after all these years—”

the man let out an exasperated sigh before leaning back on the couch and throwing his hands over his face. “oh my god, i ended my contract with them, you fucking idiot.”

san just silently stared at the man with the most comedic look on his face—widened eyes and his jaw slacked open like it was unhinged. meanwhile, jiyu just facepalmed at the revelation. 

“now why didn’t you just open with that?” she grumbled. leaving out important information seemed to be the night’s theme. 

“i thought i’d make it a little more fun. it’s not all that fun to just say my piece and go, now don’t you think?” the man mused before standing up. “my contract was ensued until i brought you back. i just told them a little white lie about how your trails went cold after a while so i just assumed you were dead. and poof, took these and left,” he gestured to the papers on the table.

“...will they still look for him though?” jiyu asked, unsure that they’d just give up looking for san just like that. 

“probably not. they were one to never get their hands dirty anyways. especially since their daughter’s in the hospital—”

san tensed at the mention of hospital, something that certainly didn’t go unnoticed by the man. “so she doesn’t know, does she?” he referred to jiyu. “or all of them for that matter.” at some point along the way, yeosang, mingi, and yunho had joined them downstairs, yet they still stuck close to yeosang just in case things went downhill again.

san silently shook his head, mentally preparing for the worst when they found out about his sins. 

“san here,” the man started, “is the one that put the family’s only daughter in the hospital.”

they glanced at san with the same thought. how did a cat hybrid manage to put a human in the hospital?

“to put it short, something provoked him to go feral, and he ended up attacking her until she almost bled out. we don’t know what provoked him to this day, but the family turned on him after that incident. and since he has no memories of the moments right before and when he was feral, it was hard for him to defend himself, so he ran away.”

taking a look at san, who looked like he just wanted to disappear, she felt her heart ache for him. he’s been alone for so long...all because of a potential misunderstanding. 

“either way, i’m still the reason she’s been injured for so long. not only physically, but probably mentally, too. imagine the trauma from being attacked by a feral hybrid.” a deprecating chuckle escaped san’s lips. 

seeing him look so down, she stroked his head. “hey, it wasn’t your fault. hybrids can’t help themselves when they go feral. it’s like you’re trapped out of your own body, so don’t blame yourself. you might have attacked her, but it wasn’t you.”

it was amazing to him how reassuring her words were, and how it was so easy for him to almost believe. there always will be that small part of him that will always blame himself for what happened, whether he liked it or not.

the man stood up and brushed his pants. “i believe i’ve overstayed my welcome, so i’ll take my leave now,” he bowed to the six of them. “and i apologize for the fright i might’ve caused.”

before the man could open the door to leave, san felt compelled to at least thank him for what he’s done. “wait! thank you...for everything...”

after a moment’s pause, the man turned around, and judging from how his eyes turned upward, it seemed as though he was smiling. “it was the least i could do after everything i’ve put you through the last few years. i’ll see you around, choi san.”

and with that, the man took his leave. 

once he closed the door, he heard their muffled voices, most likely discussing san’s future. he smiled before looking up to the sky. “well now, where am i to go next?”

[cinnamonest]

Okay, I just finished the windblume event, and my brain slapped me with this concept:

Imagine that Venti walks the streets of Monstadt as the Anemo Archon Barbatos while the festivities of Windblume takes place. Just like how Rex Lapis descend to give his predictions for the year.

Since the windblume can be anything... why not a person? So, you are chosen as the Windblume star. You're not that thrilled since the Anemo Archon reminds you of the green menace that is just a little too touchy with you, too convenient how you can easily spot him from the corner of your eye wherever you go... But it's not like you can refuse the honor! Barbatos is going to be there and personally receive this year's offering.

So the day arrives, and you are walking side by side with the Grand Acting Master Jean, about to get to the statue in front of the Cathedral. When you arrive, you expect the same stone slab they set every year for the star to lay the offering, but you are greeted by a disposition a little bit different.

The stone slab have been placed a little farther away from the statue in a more open way, enough for people to crowd around it. No kids were in sight, and everyone had this glint on their eyes as they set them on you and Jean. As you are approaching the crowd, the table rather than being rectangular is one of a circumference, covered in a white cloth and a crown of Cecilia at its foot. You frown at the different arrangement, but don't think too much about it.

Jean stops and so you do. She gives a look at the white tunic similar to the very god that's being celebrated. It was given to you earlier in the day and asked you to wear it for tonight's offering. It was a little weird, but you just shrugged it off, happy for being given the honor and haven't seen Venti in all day putted you in a good humor for argue.

The crowd parted in two when Jean's hand out reached towards the table, a clear sign for you to walk to it. You let out a sigh and clutched harder the small bouquet of Lamp grass, it's blue glow was quite comforting and worked as a beacon of light even in the most dark nights, reassuring and always guiding . That's the reason as to why you decided to offer them to the Anemo god this year.

You knew that Barbatos was going to be present, but as you enter the circle of people and walk towards the table, his awaiting form at the edge of the slab made your pulse quicken.

A soft blush coated your cheeks as you suddenly became painfully aware, when the cold wind of the night picked up and touched your exposed pussy, that they only gave you a gown to wear.

Your bare self covered by a flimsy piece of fabric, the people around you starter to whisper between them, but your blood was rushing so fast through your ears, and your heart thumping so hard in your chest made your flush deepen, your face resembling a tomato by the time you got face to face with the governor of your land.

He smiled at you, and took the bundle of flowers from your grasp, barely making an effort to take them due to you being flustered by the new discovery. Barbatos gently lied the lamp grass on the edge of the table, and grabbed your hands as he addressed the people around him:

"Citizens of Monstadt. What a beautiful night to be celebrating freedom and love" Barbatos tugged on your hand. You being somewhat listening to his words, the small gesture took you by surprise, and you had move a hand on top of Barbatos' chest to stabilise yourself. He looked at you by the corner of his eyes, he released a small laugh before looking at the crowd again.

You furrowed your eyebrows. His laugh sounded a little bit familiar, the face of a certain bard quickly flashed through your mind after recalling from where you have hear it. But just as it came, you dismissed it without a second thought. They share quite the similarities, but it's impossible for Venti to be related to the Archon himself.

"This year's star's offering is Lamp grass. A flower deep in the wilderness of Wolvendom, they shine as earthly stars for as guide they act for those who walk the night"

You smiled a little bit, happy that your God could understand the meaning behind your bouquet.

Barbatos took a moment to gaze in all of the people before settling his eyes on yours. His lips formed a smile, and you mimicked his actions without hesitation. He opened his mouth, the smile still present, and with a voice a little bit soft and deeper, added:

"But"

Your smile weaken somewhat.

"The real flower, the windblume of this year..." the Archon grasped both of your wrist, and in a quick movement that you weren't expecting, layed you down on the stone table back in first, your eyes meeting the starred night for a second before being capture by Barbatos' wind coloured eyes.

"...is something that our lovely star has within her; more precisely..." His hand pressed and tighten around your wrist before releasing them, slowly caressing his way down through your arm, softly cupping the curve of your breast when he passed on your chest, and Finally ending on the green sash around your waist used to keep the tunic closed. Your eyes widened at that.

"The purest flower a woman can give to her husband, usually at nights very similar to this one" the intensity with how Barbatos' eyes were looking at you, and how he purred the sentence, made your whole body shiver.

Not the shiver of excitement, for being part of something so important for the people of Monstadt and its culture, but the way of a prey when hunted down by a predator.

The very same feeling you always get when catching Venti watching you from the corner of your eyes.

You suddenly jolted. The Anemo Archon's word finally sinking in, you tried to sit on the table, but the sudden pressure of the God's hand on your stomach made you lose your breath. He took chance of this opening, and with a harsh yank he pulled off the sash from your body, letting the pristine white tunic fall open, leaving you bare to the eyes of the crowd.

You took a sharp intake of air, back arching towards the sky from the movement. Your nipples hardened both from the cool breeze of the night and the shame of being presented like this to the eyes of the people you have learn to know as neighbours and friends.

Whispers exploded around you. You tried your best in keeping your concentration in regaining your breath, eyes shut out of embarrassment. What you were thinking as a beautiful night transformed into a horrifying nightmare.

Barbatos' voice cutted through the cacophony, the sudden reappearance made you open your eyes and connect them with his:

"The purity of an untouched maiden, is what this year's Windblume will be"

The Anemo Archon lowered himself from his straddling position around your hips, hot breath touching the cold and reddened shell of your ear. He chuckled again, this time you couldn't pretend it was a coincidence.

Slowly, you turned your head to meet his eyes; pupils blown wide and hooded pools of dark green and blue returned your terrified ones. With the new angle, his lips were mere inches away from yours, and Venti, with a triumphant smile, whispers:

"To be the bride of a God, your whole being shall belong to me"

You did not have the force to fight anymore.

( ...AND THAT'S IT. SORRY FOR MY SHITTY ENGLISH AND PROBABLY OOC VENTI. I am going to cry if this is really long for tumblr and delete it)

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No this is wonderful anon I - bless you

[spacexcowgirl]

Lightning In A Bottle - G.W.

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: There’s no one who makes George feel quite as alive as Y/N. But will making a move ruin everything?

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Slight drug/high mention (blink and you'll miss it), alcohol insinuation, kissing, George being head over heels in love with Y/N, I don’t think there’s anything else but let me know?

A/N: for the anon who requested a George x Reader based on the song “Electric Love” ! I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go with this originally, but I decided to be lightly inspired by the tiktok trend with this song (where best friends kiss at the peak of the song). Pictures are from Pinterest.

message to be added to tags :)

If you were to ask George Weasley what he was thinking about at any given time, his answer may vary, but always stay within a similar realm. Maybe he’d say pranks, or quidditch, or missing his mum. No response would be particularly groundbreaking, and you’d probably move on to his twin brother to receive a more outlandish and off-the-wall answer. What you wouldn’t know, though, is that whatever George chose to reply with, was most likely a lie.

You see, George did think about all of things listed, but there was something else that plagued his thoughts far more often than he’d ever like to admit. Y/N Y/L/N.

The two of them had been best friends for years now, having met during their first year at Hogwarts. Y/N had this presence that even at the age of 11 had pulled him in. His worst days could be brightened by her smile alone, his best days made impossibly better when she appeared at his side. She was like the strike of lightning shocking a darkened night sky to life, the sugar rush that surged energy throughout your body. She was a drug that brought George to his highest highs, and he would be remiss to let her slip through his fingers.

If it wasn’t clear, George was smitten with the girl. It had now been nearly half a decade that he had harbored feelings for her, and he had never acted on them. He was terrified of being rejected or messing up their friendship entirely. Some part of him was addicted to the rush her presence brought, the way she lit up every room and nearly set him, body and soul, ablaze. He couldn’t risk losing that over his silly feelings.

So, now he sat at a Gryffindor party, where he should be celebrating after a victory over Slytherin. But, he just didn’t have the heart for it. Not while he watched her speak animatedly to Roger Davies, a beautiful smile lighting up her entire face. Even from his place across the room, George could see that Davies was contributing very little to the conversation, but rather seemed just as enamored by her as everyone else.

“Keep staring, why don’t you?” A voice startled George slightly, causing him to gulp before realizing that it was only Fred. “Not like that’s creepy at all.”

“Oh shut it,” George grumbled in response, although he couldn’t help a slight blush from rising to his cheeks. He hated being caught looking like a lovesick puppy.

“Seriously, mate, when are you just going to man up and ask her out?” Fred took a sip from his cup, and George didn’t miss his slight grimace as the liquid burned his throat.

“We’re not talking about this.” George groaned. 

Obviously, he was closer with Fred than anyone else in his life, but Fred just didn’t get it. He hadn’t met a girl that got his heart racing the way Y/N made George’s heart race. So, any girl that Fred was casually interested in, he went for. And it always worked out. George could take a shot at flirting with random girls that he thought were fit, because they didn’t really matter. But the idea of making a fool of himself in front of Y/N, the possibility of ruining things, it made him feel ill.

Fred looked as though he was going to press his brother further, but was cut off by the music stopping abruptly and a sharp whistle garnering his attention. In the center of the common room, Angelina Johnson stood atop a table, her hands cupping around her mouth as she made an announcement.

“Oi, we’re going to be starting a round of truth or dare, if you wanna join come over.” 

Fred glanced over at his brother, a devilish glint sparkling in his eyes before they both wordlessly communicated that they would be playing. They wandered to the center of the room with a few others, Fred immediately jumping over the back of the couch with ease. George took a place on the floor instead, figuring someone else would want to sit on the couch more. He couldn’t help but grin widely when Y/N took a few steps, then plopped down on the plush carpet beside him.

“I‘ve hardly seen you all night, hot shot,” Y/N bumped her shoulder into his, a teasing smile on her lips. “What, you hit the most bludgers in a game and suddenly you’re too cool for your best friend?”

“I’m sorry, who are you?” George teased back, chuckling heartily when she gasped and lightly swatted at his arm. “I’m only kidding! Godric, woman, excuse me for wanting to give you your alone time with Davies.” He had intended for his words to come of jokingly, but he heard the way he sneered out the other boy’s name, and he couldn’t help but cringe.

Y/N’s eyebrows shot up, as if she truly had no idea what he was on about, but before the conversation could progress any further, Angelina was clearing her throat and garnering all those who gathered’s attention. She explained that if anyone refused to answer the truth or do the dare they were given, they’d have to take a shot to make up for it. Hums in agreement sounded around the circle, then it finally got started.

George could feel nerves bubbling in his stomach, because it seemed no one was holding back that night. Of course, he was always up for a challenge and very little scared him, but Fred was playing too. And every time he’d catch his brother’s eye, and Fred would shoot him that smirk, George knew he was planning something. 

It was Neville who was the one to ask Fred ‘truth or dare?’ And George’s stomach immediately dropped. That meant Fred would be going next, and he was certain he’d be choosing him. After Fred finished his one-minute long hand stand, per Neville’s very PG dare, the older twin immediately set his gaze on his brother like a predator locking in on its prey. George gulped, causing Y/N to side-eye him warily.

“Georgie,” Fred cooed innocently. “Truth or dare?”

George pondered his options for a moment. If he picked truth, there was a chance Fred would ask something that would force him to admit his feelings for Y/N. Of course, he could always refuse and take a shot, but that would look awfully suspicious, wouldn’t it? Then again, he didn’t even want to imagine what Fred would come up with for a dare. Biting down anxiously on his bottom lip, George pleaded with his brother wordlessly.

“Come on Georgie, we don’t have all night.” Fred exhaled.

“Dare.” George settled on, not granting himself another moment to ponder which was the right choice. As the corners of Fred’s lips curled upward, making him looking strikingly like the Chesire Cat, George was certain he made the wrong decision.

“Alrighty then,” Fred leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I dare you to kiss Y/N.”

“You creep!” Y/N laughed out, clamping a hand over her mouth. “Why would you want to watch your brother kiss me?”

George was certain his face couldn’t get any redder, but his expression was contorted into one of anger. Fred had never understood limits, he always took everything a step too far, and usually George was the one to reel things back in. Fred’s expression seemed to soften at the sight of George’s genuine frustration, but it offered little reprieve to the situation.

“Or, he can take a shot. No big deal.” Fred scratched awkwardly at the back of his neck, doing his best to fix the situation he created. Everyone else seemed eerily silent as their gazes shifted between George and Y/N.

“Yeah, I’ll just take a shot.” George sighed.

“Why?” Y/N spoke, a little too quickly. If George didn’t know any better, he’d think she almost looked embarrassed.

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable…” George trailed off sheepishly.

“Right, right,” Y/N nodded in understanding, but George could sense the change in her usual demeanor instantly. “That would be so weird, especially in front of everyone.”

“You guys could go into one of the dorms for privacy?” Angelina suggested, causing both George and Y/N to shoot her a glare. 

George was prepared to come up with another excuse, to just take the shot and move on, but then Y/N sighed and glanced over at him, her bottom lip drawn between her teeth. It was like the small action put him under a spell, and suddenly his mind was entirely blank. With a shaky exhale, he nodded, then stood and offered Y/N his hand to help her up.

There was a few shouts and hollers as the two exited the group, and George was certain he distinctly heard Lee shout ‘I expect Georgie to be wearing your lipstick when you two get back!’ But he could hardly focus on anything but the feeling of Y/N’s hand in his own. The people who weren’t playing the game sloppily danced and moved around, and George was careful to weave the two of them through the crowd as he guided her towards his dorm.

It was like a sort of electricity was surging between them, flowing back and forth between the spot of their interconnected hands. He found himself wondering if she could feel it too, hoping desperately that it wasn’t all in his head. 

As they ascended the stairs, the music from the party became more and more distant. Still, even when they made it to his dorm and shut the door, they could lightly hear the muffled melody from below. George dropped her hand and looked around desperately, a quiet swear leaving his lips as he took in the disastrous state of his room. Of course, he hadn’t anticipated that the girl he was practically in love with would be in his dorm, so he hadn’t had the good sense to pick up.

“So…” Y/N trailed off, seemingly unfazed by the state of his dorm. 

“So.” George repeated, scratching at the back of his neck.

Y/N breathed out a sigh before stepping further into his room and making her way towards his bed. She patted the spot next to her, signaling for him to join her. George was quick to oblige, of course.

Y/N’s eyes seemed to trace every inch of George’s face, her gaze soft. She was usually so energetic and lively, and George adored that side of her, but this newfound quiet demeanor had him weak in the knees. Godric, he longed to know every one of her sides, to memorize every quirk and edge of hers. After her eyes had exhausted the expanse of his freckled skin, they finally landed on his lips, before returning to his deep brown eyes. Then, slowly, she began to inch just a bit closer, her eyes fluttering shut.

George wanted this, so desperately. He wanted nothing more than to cup her face and kiss her senseless and fill her with that same electricity she constantly filled him with. But there was a small voice in his head that was telling him she would never feel the same way as him, and this was a recipe for heartbreak, and the moment their lips met, everything would be ruined. So, he pulled back abruptly and cleared his throat.

“We don’t have to do this.” George spoke hoarsely. “They’ll never know if we don’t.”

Y/N’s eyes remained shut, squeezing just a bit tighter as she let out what sounded like a disappointed huff. George could read the embarrassment on her face when she finally opened her eyes but couldn’t meet his gaze. Instead, her eyes remained trained on her lap.

“Is the idea of kissing me really that awful?” Y/N’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

“What?” George sputtered, certain he must have misheard her. “No! No, that’s not what I mean—”

“What else could you mean?” Y/N’s voice raised, her usual fire seeming to awaken. “Godric, every chance you’ve tried to get out of it. Do you know how embarrassing that is, Weasley? Do you know how that makes me feel?”

George sat stunned, his mouth hanging slightly agape as she continued on her rant. She was now on her feet, angrily wringing her wrists. Her nose scrunched up in that little way it always did when she was frustrated, and even though it was clear she was not happy with George, he couldn’t help but be endeared by her even then.

“Obviously, you can do whatever you want. I’m not saying you have to kiss me.” She continued, pausing her pacing for a second. “But… We’re best friends, yeah? Am I really so bad you can’t stomach even a peck? What does that say about me, George?”

She allowed herself to glance at him for one moment, waiting to see if he’d grant her any answers, before scoffing and turning away. She was about halfway to the door when George’s senses seemed to come back to life and he forced himself to his feet to stop her. His hand gently encircled her wrist and she was quick to whirl around and look at him in confusion.

Perhaps it was the fact that George had dreamed about this moment for so long, but there were a number of things that stood out to him about it. For one, the sound of his pounding heart beat mixed with the music below, both gradually building up to a crescendo. And he knew, that was the moment. 

Their lips collided right when the mixed sounds of the music and his beating heart seemed to hit their peak. It was as if everything in the universe had been building up to this moment, or at the very least everything in George’s universe had. His lips seemed to tingle where they connected, this mutual energy rushing between both of their bodies. Y/N arched against him, thankful when his arms found her waist and kept her from tumbling over. The passion he portrayed in the kiss made her knees feel weak, and all at once she felt both entirely useless and completely alive.

If George thought that just being in her presence had an effect on him, that was nothing compared to having her lips on his. The feeling of her body curved against his was certainly something he could get used to, and he was certain it would kill him to never experience it again.

Y/N was the first to pull back, slowly, and draw in a deep breath. George found that he couldn’t help himself, though, and chased her lips for another, shorter kiss.

When they finally pulled apart for real, they both gazed at one another with the same question in mind; what did this mean? Before George could speak up and ask, he got distracted by her once again biting down on her lip. He did his best to hold in his groan, knowing damn well she would be the death of him.

“Do you feel that, too?” Y/N spoke, her eyes searching between his. 

Y/N didn’t have to explain what she meant, because George knew, and he did feel it. Instead of answering her, he removed one of his hands from her waist and took her hand gently in his own. He placed her palm over his heart, covering it with his own, and let her feel the rhythmic and steady pounding against his chest. Once he was sure she understood, he brought her hand to his lips and placed a light kiss against her knuckles.

“I only didn’t want to kiss you because… I knew I could handle never kissing you, never knowing. But to kiss you once then never again?” His voice was quiet, although he hoped it was reassuring. “I didn’t think I’d be able to do it.”

“George Weasley,” A smile grew on Y/N’s lips, the one he knew so well, the one that sent a shiver down his spine. “As long as you promise to always kiss me like that, I’ll never ask you to stop.”

With that, Y/N used the hand that remained around his neck to pull him down once more, grinning as their lips moved together. He flipped their position around and slowly began to walk her backwards to his bed, only pausing when she pulled back.

“You know, I think we’re gonna have to thank Fred after this.” Y/N teased, eliciting a groan to tear from George’s lips as he tilted his head back.

“Please, love, can we not talk about my git brother right now?”

Y/N’s giggles filled his ears like the sweetest melody, and he was certain that even a siren luring him to his death could succeed if they sounded as beautiful as her. 

Y/N made him feel alive in the way she shot him little smiles at breakfast, or how she’d slide her notes to him when she knew he wasn’t paying attention, or how her voice would carry the loudest as she cheered him on during Quidditch. Now, he knew she also made him feel alive from the feeling of her soft lips against his, from the way her body arched into his touch, and how even in a moment like this, she’d find a way to joke. As he gently pushed her back onto his bed, he realized he couldn’t let her go now that he had her.

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