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kaleldobrev · 7 months

Text

I Want Them To Hear

Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Fem!Reader

Summary: Ben wants to make sure Hughie knows what it actually sounds like when the two of you have sex. In other words, Ben makes damn sure Hughie gets yet another night of no sleep because of the two of you.

Original Prompt: Requested by @k-slla | I loved your last post (poor, poor Hughie 😂). I would love to read a sequel, where SB& reader DO keep everyone up, for other reasons 😏 (if you're up to it 😊) x Kerly

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: Cursing (23x), Smut (Oral - M&F receiving, Fingering, Unprotected Sex - P in V), Implied p*rn watching, Hughie getting scarred for life (again), Semi-Public sex (living room)

Authors Note: Before you read this make sure you read A Simple Misunderstanding first | I think 23 curse words is a new record for curse words for me (21 out of them are the same too) | I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you all enjoy it! | 18+ only please | MDNI | If you want to request something, just send me a message! | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

You looked over at the clock that was above the fireplace in the living room, and it was almost midnight, and you weren’t the least bit surprised that you weren’t even tired. Although you didn’t have a good sleep schedule before you joined the Boys (as you were a full-time college student when you joined the group), your sleep schedule somehow became even more jacked when you joined; something you didn’t think was even remotely possible. You had found yourself going to sleep at three, four, sometimes five in the morning, or not even going to sleep at all – a constant flow of energy drinks and coffee to keep you going.

The last couple of days though were unusually uneventful, verging on normal, like there wasn’t some kind of revenge war going on. The closest thing that had been kind of eventful was Hughie’s outburst this morning over breakfast, accusing you and Ben of having sex which kept him up – something that actually didn’t happen between you and Ben even though it was something that you did want to happen last night. Due to his little outburst though, the rest of the day was filled with a consistent flow of jokes (mainly at your best friend’s expense) that seemed to put everyone in a great mood (except Hughie of course). In a way, you did feel bad for him, but at the same time, his outburst this morning was unnecessary.

Your legs were currently in Ben’s lap, one of his arms draped over them as his other hand was lying on the arm of the couch with a remote in hand; the only source of light in the room coming from the television. As Ben flipped through channel after channel, you couldn’t help but stare at him as the shadows on his face changed with every single flip trying to find something to watch. “How is there so many channels and nothing to watch?” He asked, not even looking at you.

You shrugged your shoulders and he turned to face you. “I found plenty of things I’d watch. It’s not my fault you’re picky.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m not picky. TV just sucks now.” He began, and you already knew where this conversation was going. It was about to turn into a ‘back in my day’ rant that you had heard practically every single day since you had met him. “Back in my day, TV was actually good.” Before you could interject he continued. “We didn’t have stupid reality shows about people who are famous for nothing.” You couldn’t help but agree with him on that one. “There’s 400 channels and only two of them are watchable.”

“And which channels does the almighty Soldier Boy deem watchable?” You asked, emphasizing the nickname.

“ESPN and TCM.” He answered without hesitation. You simply just rolled your eyes.

“Of course those would be the only two channels.” You mumbled, even though you knew he could hear you; there was no use in mumbling around him. “I love ESPN and TCM too, but there are other channels that are watchable Ben. How about FoodNetwork and HGTV?”

Ben scoffed. “Sometimes they’re watchable.”

“Okay. How about…” You thought for a moment, trying to think of a channel that Ben would possibly enjoy; then it hit you, causing a smirk to form on your face. “How about Skinamax?”

He looked at you with a confused expression. “What the fuck is Skinamax?” You let out a slight laugh, causing him to raise a brow. “What?”

“You don’t know what Skinamax is?” You asked. “Honestly, I’m slightly surprised.” You held out your hand. “Hand me the remote and I’ll show you.”

“Why can’t you just fucking tell me?” He asked, his facial expression annoyed.

“Because Ben, it’d be more fun to show you.” Your lips turned into a smirk. “Don’t you trust me?”

Again, your response earned yet another eyeroll from him. Of course I fucking trust you, he thought. What kind of stupid question is that? “Fine.” He said, handing you the remote.

“Okay, and why couldn’t you of just told me it was just fucking porn?” He asked, his tone sounding a little annoyed with you.

“Because, I thought it would be much more fun to show you.” You turned away from the television and looked at him. “You’ve watched porn before though right? Like, I’m assuming you have cause well…you’re…well you.”

He looked at you briefly before looking back at the screen again. “Have you watched porn before?” He mumbled, mocking your tone. “Of course I fucking have.” He said, a tad louder and a bit more annoyed sounding. He turned back to face you. “Who hasn’t watched porn before?”

You shrugged. “Fair point.” You said. “You know…” you began, as you started inching your way closer to him. “As much as I’d love to continue watching this…interesting movie. There is something I’d much rather be doing.”

He smirked, his full attention on you now. “And what’s that Sweetheart?”

“Well, you did make me a promise this morning.” Your voice was low, your hand inching closer to the hem of his pants.

“I made you a lot of promises this morning.” His voice was low, but not nearly as low as yours.

“But there was one in particular.” Your fingers started slipping into the waistband of his pants as you maintained complete eye contact with him.

“You going to tell me or is it more fun to show me?” He asked, your hand made contact with his cock and you gently wrapped your hand around him. Ben slightly groaned at the contact.

You couldn’t help but smirk. “I think you know the answer.” You whispered.

Without a second to waste, he pulled his sweats down giving you slightly better access as you started moving your hand up and down. You went slow, knowing that it was killing him inside with the pace that you were going at. As he was about to open up his mouth to protest the slow pace, your head went down and you started sucking him off; a slight taste of pre-cum on your tongue. Your hand and mouth started going in tandem with each other; no longer focused on his face, but focusing on what you were doing. “Fuck,” he groaned, and he threw his head back into the couch, enjoying the feeling of your mouth and hands wrapped around him, a feeling that he’d wanted since the moment he laid his eyes on you – despite him knowing how much you hated him at first.

You released him with a pop for a moment; your hand still going. But the loss of your mouth on him caused him to open his eye to look at you. “Ben, you need to be quiet. I don’t want the whole house to hear.” You stated.

Your words gave Ben an idea, and a smirk grew on his face. “Princess, I want them to hear.”

“You…you want them to hear?” Your voice a whisper. “Why?”

“Cause I want your little friend to know what it actually sounds like when the two of us fuck.” His words made you audibly gulp, and you barely even knew how to respond. Weirdly, the thought turned you on.

“Okay.” Your reply hesitant. Despite the slight hesitation, you wrapped your lips around his cock again; your mouth and hand working in tandem again.

As you worked, the sounds that were coming out of Ben’s mouth weren’t remotely quiet; a mixture of groaning and moaning. His hand gripped your hair slightly, pulling at it gently, messing it up. Between him basically playing with your hair as you blew him, and the sounds that he was making; it encouraged you to pick up the pace a little, and you yourself felt yourself starting to get increasingly more wet. “God, your fucking mouth.” He groaned. He bucked up a little, and when he did that he let himself go; releasing himself into your mouth and down your throat. You usually weren’t a swallower but for him, you made the exception.

Once you helped him ride out his orgasm, you released him with a pop; the two of you making eye contact again. “Lay down Princess,” he demanded, “and spread those legs of yours,” he grinned.

“Yes Sir.” You said, probably a little bit too loud.

The nickname you gave him just made him grin even wider, slightly more evil looking. “Can’t wait to wreck this pussy of yours.” He said, completely pulling your shorts down in one swift movement. He eyed your bare pussy for a moment before smirking up at you, cocking a brow. “Went commando today uh?” You bit your bottom lip, nodding. “Sweetheart, if I would have known, I would have fucked you on the kitchen table this morning just to prove a point.”

“Be-” before you could speak, his point finger started to slowly dip inside of you. “Fuck.” You moaned, slightly whispering.

“You’re fucking soaked Princess.” He said, smugness in his voice. “All this just from blowing me uh?” He added a second finger as they both started going into you a bit deeper, a slight curve to them.

“Y-yes.” You moaned out; his two fingers starting to move slowly in and out of you, a similar pace you had done earlier on him.

“So, tell me this Sweetheart. Are you generally just a cock slut, or are you just a slut for my cock?”

The pace of his fingers started to pick up gingerly; no words were forming in your brain to even respond to his question. He was barely doing anything to you, and you were slightly embarrassed by the way your body was reacting to his touch, but at the same time, he actually knew what he was doing – hitting you in all the right spots. “Just…Fuck…Just for yours.”

“Just for mine what?” He added a third finger, curling them inside of you. All you could do was moan; verging on the sound of pornographic. “Need you to use your words Princess. I know how much you like to talk, don’t hold back on me now.”

“Fuck me…” you mumbled, feeling a heat rising in your cheeks. “I’m only a slut for your cock Ben.”

He clicked his tongue a few times, seeming unsatisfied with your answer. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t quite hear you.” The smugness in his voice returned, knowing that he could hear you. You knew what he really meant: your friends couldn’t hear you.

With a small groan, you spoke just a tad louder, hoping it would be loud enough to satisfy him. “I’m only a slut for you cock Ben.”

He grinned. “There it is.” He sounded so proud of himself.

“Ben I’m about to –” you came, not even finishing your sentence, your orgasm practically exploding out of you. Despite the amount of times you’ve had sex, this was the first time you could actually say that you had a mind-blowing orgasm. He continued to move his fingers in and out of you rapidly as you rid out your orgasm.

“Fucking beautiful,” he praised. “I’ll never get fucking tired of seeing a woman cum.”

As soon as you came down from your high, he removed his fingers from you, licking them clean; and you already hated the feeling of not having his fingers inside of you. “Fuck.” You breathed out, your chest rising up and down as you tried catching your breath.

Ben chuckled. “You good there Sweetheart?” He sounded amused.

“Yeah…So…Good…” your voice trailed off.

“Good, cause I’m not done with you just yet.” Before you had the chance to respond, he pulled you by your ankles, sliding you across the couch. Pulling you into his lap, both of your hands rested on his chest, slight heat radiating from it, which strangely felt good against your palms.

Your legs were spread open wide enough that you were able to straddle him; your knees on either side of his thighs resting on the couch. Without any kind of direction from him, you grabbed the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head, tossing it to the side, leaving you completely naked; you felt even more vulnerable somehow than you did before. You leaned in, your hands on either side of his face now and kissed him; his hands automatically gripping your hips. Based on the tightness of the grip you knew you’d have bruises, and honestly – you couldn’t care less, you wanted him to leave marks.

The both of you moaned into the kiss, and you started rocking your hips gently, trying to obtain some kind of friction. He smirked against your lips. “Someone’s a little needy.” He teased. “You just came Sweetheart.”

“Yeah but…” You kissed his neck, and leaned in close to his ear, “that was on your fingers, not on your cock.”

“And you say I have the dirty mouth.” He laughed a little, removing his hands from your hips. You sat back on his thighs as he took one of his hands and wrapped it around himself, pumping it in his hand a few times. “Going to fill that pussy right up.”

“Please.” Your tone slightly begging.

“So cute when you beg.” He said, his tip teasing your entrance. “You ready for me Sweetheart?” You nodded and placed your hands on his shoulders, almost as if you were bracing yourself. As he started pushing himself inside of you, you let out a long moan, shutting your eyes. “Fucking love your moans.” He complicated, as he watched your face slightly contort. “Taking me so well too.” He chuckled. “Really are a cock slut uh?”

“Only for you.” You breathed, his cock almost fully inside of you.

“Damn right only for me.” His voice sounded slightly possessive; and the tone turned you on more than you thought it would, and he felt you clench around him. “You like that uh?” You nodded in response. “Good.”

As you started moving your hips, Ben started placing kisses between your breasts, every so often taking one of your nipples into his mouth. The noises you were making were pornographic sounding again; no words really escaping your lips, just moans. Your hand gripped the back of his head, clutching at his hair. “Ben,” you moaned, shutting your eyes as you continued to rock your hips.

He attached his lips to your neck now, slightly nipping and sucking on the skin. Not only were there going to be marks on your hips, there were going to be marks on your neck now too. “Mine,” you heard him mumble; but you weren’t entirely sure if you heard him properly.

You opened your eyes and looked at him, and he removed his lips from your neck. “You heard me,” his voice possessive again. “You’re mine now.” He said. You weren’t sure if this was bedroom talk or he actually did mean that you were his, and his alone. Either way, you loved the sound of being his – despite the slight alpha/misogynistic undertone to it.

“All yours.” You agreed. He took two of his fingers and started rubbing your clit, trying to get you closer and closer to the edge. You felt the pressure start to build, and you were insanely close to coming again. “I’m so close.”

“Can’t wait to cum inside of you Princess.” His fingers started picking up the pace, and his hip movements were starting to get erratic – he was close too.

“Fuck.” You mumbled, your own movements matching his erratic ones. “I’m about to –” as you started to cum, his lips latched onto yours, and you moaned into his mouth.

“I’m right there with you.” He said, coming closely after you. The kiss deepened as the two of you rid out your orgasms; his fingers working lazily on your clit.

“Holy shit.” You said, essentially collapsing onto him. Your forehead rested on his shoulder as your chests were pressed up against each other; his arms wrapped around your lower back, his clock still buried inside of you.

“You alright there Sweetheart?” He asked, kissing the top of your head.

“Yeah just…” you started breathing a little heavy again. “Don’t have your stamina.” You laughed a little. “I’ll be okay.”

“Good. Cause I can’t have you dyin’ on me.” His tone was joking, but you knew that he would be devastated if anything were to ever happen to you. Because over the course of time he had known you, he had grown to deeply care about you; and it was something that surprised the both of you – hell, it even surprised the rest of the group.

"What the fuck!" You and Ben both turned and saw Hughie standing in the doorway of the living room; his facial expression looked as though he was about to blow a gasket.

Ben rolled his eyes out of annoyance. "Do you mind?" You gently lifted yourself off of him, grabbing a nearby blanket and quickly covered yourself and Ben, although the damage was probably already done.

"Yes! Matter of fact I do mind! This is the second night in a row that I woke up because of the two of you!" He yelled; and you could of sworn you saw a vain bulging from his neck. He was pissed.

Ben laughed, amused by Hughie's reaction. "Now you know what it actually sounds like when the two of us fuck. Should of kept your mouth shut this morning kid." He grinned, and gave him a wink.

"Seriously? You guys were loud because of what I said this morning?" Hughie's voice was now annoyed. Ben simply just shrugged at his question. "You are such an asshole."

Ben shrugged again. "Worse has been said."

“Hughie I –” you began, but Ben cut you off.

"But, I can promise you this," he got up from the couch, pulling up his pants in the process as he made his way toward Hughie. He placed a hand on his shoulder, looking him directly in the eyes, grinning. "You better get used to not fucking sleeping cause your friend has one hell of a pussy and mouth on her." You didn't need to see his face to know the absolute pleasure he had saying that to your best friend.

Tag List: @jackles010378 @syrma-sensei @k-slla @zombie-freak If you'd like to be added to a tag list, let me know!

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys #the boys imagine #the boys one shot #ben x reader #ben x you #the boys amazon #reader insert #female reader

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vall-the-pen · 25 days

Note

I loved your recent Alhaitham fic! I was wondering if you would consider writing a pt. 2 where Alhaitham regrets how he treated you and attempts to win you back (maybe 4ggravate finds out and attempts to help Alhaitham to win you back)? I understand if not. Thank you for sharing your writing!

Thank you so much for liking my first fic! Feel free to request anything genshin-related and I’ll try my best to provide!

You kept me like a secret, but I kept you like an oath (pt. 2)

It was rare, I was there

Here’s part 1!

Synopsis: despite the neglect and everything that happened, you both still longed for each other…

Content: Alhaitham x fem!reader, wingmen!4ggravate, implied Dehyarzad, Collei, absent Cyno, Tighnari, second chances, writer!reader, angst to comfort, reader is with someone else

Warnings: slight cursing, long intro again (I can’t help it), mild spoilers for Sumeru archon quest chapter 3 act 2, Collei goes missing

Note: this part can be optional for you. If you prefer to end it at part one, then feel free to do so! But, if you’re a sucker for second chances (like me), then consider this a treat from me to you!

—

Nothing. You could hear nothing.

Not your heart pounding to the rhythm of your feet. Not the screaming in your head as you spotted familiar grey hair walking around the city. Your thoughts immediately tasted bitter—if he had the time to walk now, how come he hadn’t back then?

You surmise that you weren’t worth the step.

The weight of his absence hung over you like a storm cloud, casting a shadow over the warmth of the day. Despite your efforts to push the pain aside, it crept back, heavy and suffocating. Your mother's words echoed in your mind like a haunting refrain, a reminder that perhaps you had been foolish to invest so much in someone who couldn't reciprocate your love.

The shops were as busy and ever; merchant services, inquiries about products, scholars out in the open. You were out for groceries, almost ashamed for showing your face after the scene you caused 15 days ago. The world needed to know you were strong, though, so you put a big smile on your face and a new perfume worth Alhaitham’s salary. You even reached out to Cyno about the book you mentioned; so far, everything has been accurate, according to him.

“Y/N?” A familiar voice called to you. Turning your head in that direction, you see Dehya in the distance waving at you. Once you’ve said hello, she looked at you with a smirk on her face, “Wow, did a flower barf on you? You look radiant!”

“Radiant?” You humble yourself, “I don’t remember putting on any jewelry.”

“No, silly!” She gestured to your everything, “There’s this aura you’re emitting and it’s making you glow!” Glow? All you did these past few days was cry, eat, and write. Perhaps it was the tears that helped. They irritated your eyes so much it gave you a softer, more approachable look. “Do you think you could lend me some of that eyeshadow?”

Try crying every hour, Dehya. “Ah, I just did a favor for a friend studying cosmetology. I’m not entirely sure what products they used,” you lie. Thinking about Alhaitham will certainly eat you alive; you change the subject despite the flattery you enjoyed. “What brings you to the city?”

Enthusiasm spouts from the mercenary, “My lady Dunyarzad invited me over for the Sabzeruz Festival; and you know me, I gotta be there for my lady!”

You found it adorable—almost enviable—how they still keep in touch even after Dehya’s resignation. Call a spade a spade, that is real commitment. It makes you wonder if you’d be here, ‘radiant’ and ‘glowing,’ if you were treated that way.

“The Sabzeruz Festival? I didn’t realize it was so close. Wow, time surely flies.” Suddenly, you feel excitement rush through your veins, a new experience after days of steady tides.

“Couldn’t agree more,” said Dehya. From a distance, you both heard Dunyarzad call her name. “Ah, it looks like she needs me back there. I better go check on her. If you want, you should totally come over the bazaar once the festival is ready. Dunyarzad and I would be lucky to have you celebrate with us!” After you gave an accepting nod and farewell, Dehya ran off to the woman in purple, practically skipping on her feet.

As you watched their lively interaction, a surge of envy and longing swept through you. Their easy camaraderie and genuine happiness a stark contrast to the emptiness and loneliness gnawing at your insides. You had longed to experience that kind of connection, to be enveloped in the warmth of love and companionship once more. But deep down, you knew it was a distant dream, a fantasy you could never reclaim.

You weren’t a religious person, but out of sheer desperation, you prayed.

Lesser Lord Kusanali, please free me from this torment. Let the flowers in my garden bloom of life, let the fruits grow ripe even without much sun, let the trees reach the highest of buildings.

—

Simple greetings and little nods, Alhaitham wouldn’t have minded if those scholars were you. In fact, instead of returning those nods and hellos, he would embrace you, lift your feet off the ground and spin you around like you always wanted.

After you stormed out the tavern, Cyno went ahead and asked what happened to the both of you. For the first time, he couldn’t give a straight answer. Every excuse seemed to damage your image, and that was the last thing he wanted. Kaveh ended up taking over to save him the embarrassment.

The 15 days he burned for you were like falling into the abyss, fighting every day to the brink of death, unable to eat the sustenance that came from your warmth.

The now Scribe Alhaitham needed something to keep you off his mind. He considered attending a meeting, but none seemed to pique his interest. Every thought ended up on your doorstep, making him think of dropping by. “Kaveh,” he called the architect scribbling on his notebook, “have you seen Y/N, as of late?”

“No, she hasn’t been feeling well these past few weeks. Shouldn’t you be in a meeting?”

“Shouldn’t you be paying rent?”

Kaveh cursed at Alhaitham, “I’m trying to make the money, goddamit!”

“Maybe you would have the money if you stopped settling for your clients’ low budgets.”

“Is it hard to find me considerate?”

“I’d rather call it pathetic.”

“Go catch whatever Y/N has,” he shooed Alhaitham away, “maybe that would give you some perspective.”

The scribe stood silent for a few seconds. He knew his roommate was right, he should’ve thought about how you felt before anything. Kaveh was about to believe he had won a squabble for once, but then he suddenly revealed, “Y/N… is angry at me.”

Kaveh pshawed at him, “With the way you talked to her? No shit.” Alhaitham didn’t move an inch. “Hey, what happened there, anyway? It wasn’t like Y/N to burst out to you like that. Are you hiding something?”

With a sigh, the grey-haired man decided to reveal everything to his roommate. He listened intently, gasping and scolding him for his lack of attention towards you, adding salt to his open wounds. Upon recalling the words the scribe had said, Kaveh took a slight breath, “You fucked up.”

“I know.”

“You need to go fix this.”

“I know.”

“And you were calling me pathetic!”

“I know! I just-“ he couldn’t believe he was saying this. “I need help.”

As he was popularly known, Alhaitham wasn’t one to ask for help. Not because he had too much pride, but because he knew how to solve things like the back of his hand. He had access to numerous files from the Akasha, and he had connections to powerful people, being the scribe and all.

But this was a different situation. Every solution did not guarantee a 100% success rate, 87% at best, and that was not enough for Alhaitham. He was ready to do anything for you, to get on his knees and raise you to the highest regard, to even beg.

“I could ask Tighnari,” Kaveh began, “The Sabzeruz Festival is coming soon, maybe you could ask her out?”

Right, now that he’s perceived as a hero of his nation, he is expected to attend these festivals. He never bothered to come before, and he wouldn’t now, but he was willing to if it meant getting to see you again. “I don’t think she’ll be accepting me as her date.”

“Then we’ll talk to her.”

“Will she be willing to listen? Wait, isn’t she sick?”

Kaveh sighed, downhearted, “Right.” Then he clicked his fingers at the scribe, “I have an idea!”

—

“Collei? What are you doing here,” you said after opening your door. She drew a small grin with worried eyes, holding a box of goods for you. It’s been a while since you saw her, she grew up well, taller since your last meeting.

“Hello, miss Y/N! I heard from Master Tighnari that you weren’t feeling well,” yes, you distinctly remember lying to them (Tighnari, and Kaveh) so they wouldn’t see you as often. “So I thought I could bring you simple remedies.” The little girl observed you. “But now I think there’s no need for that,” she chuckled.

“Ah, yeah, don’t worry, it was just a small cold. Speaking of Tighnari, how come he isn’t here with you?” You ushered her in and sat her down for some tea, placing her box of medicines on the counter.

“He had some business to attend to with a merchant and allowed me to visit you. It’s been a while since you’ve travelled to Gandharva Ville, miss Y/N, do you have any plans on visiting?”

“Yes, I’m thinking of basing the rainforest as the main setting for my new book, actually.”

You both chatted about everything you could as you waited for the water to boil. Afterwards, you served a hot teapot, dwelling in mint and lotus herbs. “Ah, Collei, how long are you and Tighnari staying in the city?”

“Just for three days, though I would like to stay until after the Sabzeruz Festival,” she chuckles, holding her now warm cup in her hands.

“You could come with me if Tighnari would allow it.”

The little girl’s eyes beamed with stars, “Really? Oh, I’ve been dreaming of going to one for ages! Miss Nilou will be performing, right?” You nod to her delight, “Yes! Archons, I really hope Master would let me.”

As if he heard his name, Tighnari knocked on your door. Opening it, he looked glad seeing your healthy state. “Y/N! Good to see you’re feeling well now.” He peaked behind you to see Collei sip from her cup.

Upon recognizing her master, Collei got up and greeted him. “Hi, Master! Miss Y/N and I were just talking about the Sabzeruz Festival, and that I could come with her to see Miss Nilou perform!” Her enthusiasm was as contagious as a cold, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“As long as it wouldn’t be a hassle for Y/N, and that you would always be careful when purchasing products,” Tighnari worries like a mother. “Always look at the expiration dates, check if there are anything you’re allergic to.”

He goes on and on for about 5 minutes until you cut him off, “Alright, alright, Tighnari, it’s not like she’ll be going all alone; she has me with her!”

With this, Collei wrapped her arms around your waist, ever so thankful for your support. You thought of her as a niece, and she thought of you as an auntie, willing to give her advice on anything, trivial or not. After a few more words exchanged, and details for the festival, the pair decide to head to their cottage.

For once, you enjoyed your time and not think of Alhaitham once!

Oops.

—

It was the day of the Sabzeruz Festival; you had already picked Collei up from their cottage and are on your way to the Grand Bazaar. You could see thousands of attendees, travelling merchants, and familiar faces on the way.

As the vibrant colors and lights of the festival unfolded before you, the once a source of excitement and anticipation now loomed before you like a daunting reminder of what you had done. Despite Dehya's invitation, you couldn't shake the feeling of being an outsider, a solitary figure adrift in a sea of joyous revelry. Each smile, each laugh felt like a dagger to your already wounded heart, a painful reminder of the love you had lost and the embarrassment that now consumed you.

But this was no time for dwelling upon the memories that brought misery, remember, Collei is counting on you to give her a good time.

“Y/N, Collei!” You spot Kaveh in the distance waving and walking your way. Collei happily waved back. “I’m so glad I could run into you guys, you have no idea how terrified I am of meeting a client by accident.”

You laughed, “Do I have to accompany you, too, Kaveh?”

“Actually, I was thinking of letting you have some fun while I take care of little Collei here.” He ruffles her neatly-done hair, now messy but more natural-looking. This led Collei to bring out a small comb to fix it.

You felt irresponsible leaving Collei in someone else’s care, you’d said you would take care of her, and it felt like you would be breaking a promise if you agreed to his offer. You tuck your hair behind your ear, “I don’t know, Kaveh, something feels wrong about that, no offense. Plus, if something were to happen to Collei, we wouldn’t hear the end of it; you wouldn’t like Tighnari when he’s angry.”

“A fair point, but you’ve been locked up in your house for two weeks, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. You deserve to be out there, butterfly, spread the wings you grew from being in that cocoon!”

That somehow felt too specific. Does he know something? Collei starts to agree, despite seeming so excited to go with you. “Even you, Collei?” You sigh, “Fine, but if something happens, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You weren’t expecting to have so much fun here. The lights, the music, even the people were a blast! At first you were anxious for Collei, checking in from time to time, then as you continued to do so, your vists would be more spaced apart. You drank some punch with Dehya and Dunyarzad, who seemed to be doing really well for themselves, then you danced with the crowd in the name of Lesser Lord Kusanali.

After all of that, it was time for one last dance before Nilou’s grand performance. The band began to play a soft, romantic folk song. “Alright, Sumeru City,” called the lead singer, their voice sonorous with seduction, “before we settle down for the reknowned Nilou, let’s have a little treat for all the couples out there. So, grab your partner and dance along.”

Just as you were at the height of excitement, everything seemed to come crashing down again. You stood on the sidelines, feeling lost and out of place. Dehya and Dunyarzad swayed together, hand in hand. A lot of other couples came together and danced. The passion embedded in the song they sang only made you feel more alone, the walls of the Grand Bazaar growing taller and taller as you gazed upon them in longing.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, a man you don’t remember meeting. “Excuse me, miss, could I trouble you with a dance?” He looked about your age, a nice smile and an energetic demeanor. You were cautious of his intentions, though. It’s possible to have fun while maintaining a distance, right?

You accepted his invitation, all of the sudden you felt a sick knot in your stomach, like you were cheating on Alhaitham. But you weren’t together anymore, why would you stop yourself from meeting new people?

The man said his name was Hafan, a mercenary from the Corps of Thirty. He offered to buy you a drink once the dance was over, and again, you gladly accepted while the sweat in your palms said otherwise. You talked with every step you took, getting to know each other and telling stories. He made you laugh—a lot—and you impressed him with your witty comebacks. Perhaps this was the Dendro Archon’s response to your prayer? A hand to guide you through the maze, and to help you believe in love again?

But just amidst the merry atmosphere of the festival, a lingering anxiousness settled within your stomach.

Then, you saw him.

Alhaitham stood in the corner of the room, the desperate merchants and harmonizing of the band seemed to die down as time stood still. The vibrant colors faded into shades of grey as your heart clenched with a mixture of dread and longing.

It was as if a gate had opened within you, unleashing a torrent of emotions you had struggled to contain. Guilt gnawed at your conscience, regret tore your chest open, and love gave your heart to him.

As Hafan twirled you gracefully across the makeshift floor, you held your gaze with Alhaitham, your heart torn between the past and the present, between what was and what could’ve been.

Maybe you had been thinking too rashly, maybe he had changed over the course of your absence. The way he looked at you with such burning could not make you think otherwise.

In that moment, with all the crowds in the festival and the ache of your fractured heart, you knew for certain—no matter how hard you deny it, no matter how fast you tried to run, you could never escape the grasp he had on your soul.

The dance had ended, though it felt like it just started. Before Hafan could get that drink he promised, you said, “I’m sorry, Hafan.” He looked at you in confusion. “You must be looking for someone to—I don’t know—spend the rest of the festival with, and I don’t think I can fulfill that position. You’re a sweet guy, truly, I’m just not in a good place for anything right now.” Archons, you sounded ridiculous. But to your suprise, the man hardly took it personally.

“It’s okay, I get it. I had fun with you tonight, Y/N. You’re a great person to be around.” You almost regret having to end your time with him. “I’ll see you around, yeah?” He gave you a nod of farewell and left your side.

You looked in the direction of Alhaitham, again, hoping to catch that feeling of familiarity, but you had found he was no longer there. Perhaps it was your imagination.

You then searched for Collei and Kaveh, but they were nowhere to be found. They weren’t near the stalls, or in front of the stage.

They were nowhere in the bazaar.

The panic you felt shook your entire foundation, the pillars that kept you from going back home, back to the pain.

What if they had been kidnapped? You trusted Kaveh’s words, that he would take care of her, but for all you know they could be in the middle of the desert right now! What if Kaveh had run into a client and got distracted? What if Collei got injured or hospitalized?

Your heart began beating in your ears, your breath hastened with every thump. The air seemed so thin in the enclosed space, you needed to go outside. Yes, perhaps you could have a better chance at finding them out there, too.

As you walked out the doors of the Grand Bazaar, Collei’s name immediately echoed through the night. “Collei!” After numerous calls left with no answers, lumps of tears began crawling down your cheeks. “Oh my archon,” you sobbed. You could imagine the look on Tighnari’s face, the worry, the anger, the disappointment.

The feeling of losing them was clawing to your soul, like a mother bird losing her chick after their first flight. If they go missing, it was your fault. That fact will forever stain your soul, haunting your remaining days until the sweet release of death.

You sat on a curb, just near the entrance of the bazaar in hopes that the little girl and the architect would return unharmed. More tears had revealed themselves as your thoughts grew more and more intense, terrorizing, even.

The streets were so quiet, only the music from the festival and the first chirps of the crickets seemed to fill your ears, your sobs excluded. No guards or matras were present with you. Who the hell was in charge of security here!? The starry sky brought a comfortable cold instead of blazing heat.

You then heard footsteps from the bazaar and a person sitting beside you. “I walked them home,” a gruff voice sounded, “Collei was getting tired.”

Just your luck, the man who sat with you was no other than Alhaitham. Despite the conflicting emotions that came to you in a flash, you were relieved that Collei was safe. You let out a heavy breath. “Thank you,” you sniff, brushing away the tears that stained your face.

It was quiet again, for a while. You could hear Nilou’s music from outside; “Collei would’ve loved seeing Nilou dance,” you thought aloud. “I remember her basking about it when she had just became Tighnari’s pupil.” Suddenly, you felt calmer, safer now that the eerie silence accompanied you with the presence of the man you knew as well as breathing.

—

Alhaitham couldn’t say anything, busying himself gazing upon your eyes and your weakly pulled smile. There was still sadness lingering within them, covered by a coating of relief. He felt remorse for taking Collei away from you, for making you worry like this, for leaving you in the dark for a long, long time. Nonetheless, he was happy it led to you talking to him again. He was almost certain this day would never come.

Then he is reminded of you dancing with another man. His heart pounded erratically against his chest, each beat echoing the tumultuous storm of emotions raging within him. He had come to the festival in search of hope and redemption, a fleeting reprieve from the pain that chewed up his soul. But instead, he had found more heartache, contrary to the plan.

As he watched you twirl and sway with the man’s hand in yours, he felt as though the world tilted off its axis, leaving him teetering on the precipice of anguish. How could you be dancing so freely with another when every fiber of his being yearned to hold you so close, to feel the warmth you gave him once more?

His hands clenched into fists against his knees, his jaw tightened with unexpressed emotion. He remembered how badly he wanted to look away, but the flow of your hair and how gracefully you moved wouldn’t let him, it was as if you had casted a spell upon him, forever tormenting him to stay on the sidelines, to repress the overwhelming desire to be the one twirling you around and making you smile.

A surge of conflicting emotions washed over him—a searing pang of jealousy intertwined with a profound sense of regret and longing. Then just when he was ready to cross the bridge that separated you, he felt a small tug on his darkened cape. “Mr. Scribe Alhaitham,” Collei said meekly, sheepishly rubbing her eyes, “Did the plan work?”

He remembers Kaveh’s words, so filled with determination, She’ll do anything for Collei, so if she asks to go to the festival, Y/N will for sure accompany her! Once the slow dance starts, that’s when you’ll swoop in and declare your love.

And if it doesn’t work?, the scribe raised his eyebrows.

It will! I’ll make sure no one gets near her.

Boy, did that plan go to shit.

He gave the little girl a soft smile despite the mind-numbing pain in his chest. He knelt down to her level, “Isn’t Kaveh supposed to be with you?”

“Someone was talking to him just a while ago. It seemed pretty heated, so I slipped away when I got the chance,” she yawned.

“Of course,” Alhaitham muttered. Must be a client of his. “You look tired, Collei.”

“I think I’m ready to go home now, Mr. Alhaitham.” The drowsiness in her eyes could barely hold her awake. It was getting late, she must not be used to staying up at times like these.

Alhaitham looked back at you, wondering if you were still keeping your eyes on him. To no avail, it was like you had vanished like a ghost with the beautiful, painful sight he had witnessed along with you. A heavy feeling lingered in his chest, leaving him to wonder if you would lock your gaze with him again. Then he left, accompanying Collei back to her and Tighnari’s cottage.

On his way back to the bazaar for reasons unknown, he found you weeping in your hands, curled up like a shriveled bug beaten down, calling out Collei’s name. After he assured you of the little girl’s safety, you began talking about your experiences with her. Ever so glad, he listened to your voice, melodious and soothing like a lullaby to put him to sleep. The euphoria he experienced was one like no other, it was the first time he felt at peace for eons against the stars and the cool breeze. Then, he wondered, were you feeling the same?

“They found a new Grand Sage,” he announced.

“Is that why you have the time now?” Your words stung his morality, picking on the weak scabs of his mistakes.

He took a moment to respond. “I’m sorry,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I never meant for any of this to happen.”

Unable to meet his gaze, you managed a casual tone, “I know, Alhaitham.” His name sounded like a song whenever it came from your lips. “Besides, it’s not your fault.” Your voice was then hoarse of emotion, fingers picking at the dirt beneath you. “I shouldn’t have let myself to get lost in my own thoughts.”

“But I should’ve been there for you,” Alhaitham insisted. “I should not have made you feel like you were alone.”

“But it happened anyway.”

For a moment, silence enveloped the space between you, only broken by the distant sounds of the festival. Then, slowly, you turned to meet his gaze, in a light that had no remorse, for the first time since you told him to leave.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you,” you admitted, your voice trembling with uncertainty. “But I do know I’m willing to try.”

With this, Alhaitham took you in a warm embrace, letting out a shaky breath as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He then held you by the shoulders, teary as you released him from this torture. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make things right again.”

As you looked into his eyes, you found the sincerity in his voice, determination reflecting upon his irises. Despite everything that had happened, you couldn’t deny the hope that ignited in your stomach. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a chance to find your way back together.

You held his hands first, then traced your way to his cheeks, warm with anticipation. Then you pulled him into a kiss that was long overdue, Alhaitham almost tumbling from the force you had exerted.

As your lips meet, there is a softness, a tenderness in the way they press together, as if each touch carries the weight of a thousand whispered promises. Time seems to stand still as you both lose yourselves in the sensation, senses heightened by the intoxicating blend of warmth and desire. It's a symphony of sensations—a gentle caress, a fleeting brush of lips, a silent exchange of emotions that speaks volumes without a single word. And in that fleeting moment, you find solace, connection, and a sense of belonging in each other's embrace.

Slow as the breeze blew your hair, everything froze and only he brought the fire to relieve you of your vains. Alhaitham’s lips were soft and cold, clearly waiting for this day to come. When he leaned back for air, foreheads connected together, you breathed, “I love you.”

As you heard the crowd’s applause from a distance, as if cheering for your reconciling, he replied, “I love you more,” before pulling you in for another well-deserved kiss.

—the end.—

#genshin fanfic #genshin impact #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham fanfic #alhaitham angst #angst to comfort #4ggravate #alhaitham #alhaitham comfort #dehyarzad #genshin dehya #dunyarzad

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magicwhiskers29 · 4 months

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What's really interesting to me about Prime Shadow is that he reads as actively trying to sympathise with Sonic in s3e1. A lot of people have talked about the constant saves all episode and yes, of course. There's also something to be said about this Shadow's sense of superiority not restricting him to believing he's just physically better (This one is actually willing to run, for one), but I really want to talk about his expressions, in this episode.

He starts the episode angry. Pretty much of course -- this tends to be Prime Shadow's default. His resting face already looks pretty angry, although I'd say his expressions when he's giving Sonic his "I told you so" are angrier than usual. His motivation is still about saving what of his home can be saved, and Sonic has just messed that up again, in trusting Nine when Shadow specifically said not to.

I don't think Sonic was wrong exactly to trust someone who looks and can act so much like someone who would never betray him -- it's naïve, but understandable. But to Shadow, it's naïve and foolish. Last season already established that Shadow doesn't have anyone he's close to, so it's going to be hard for him to understand, especially when he could sense Nine's betrayal a mile away. So he angers, and talks harshly and sternly to Sonic.

But look:

SHADOW: We need to leave this world.

SONIC: You don't have to tell me twice.

When Sonic actually listens to him and runs when he says to, he's surprised. He's used to Sonic having his own agenda and not listening, because that's Sonic's biggest flaw in Prime. Sonic quips that he doesn't need the reminder, but yes, yes he usually does, and will still do in this case.

Shadow understands Sonic for his flaws, for better or worse, so he's surprised when they don't act up. (Yet, anyway)

So he initially attempts to offer compassion, when Sonic sees the Ghost Hill inprints of his friends. He doesn't immediately go back to stern yelling and angry expressions; he offers out a hand and tries to understand more. He's not seeing Sonic's flaws for liabilities against him -- he's attempting to work around them for both of them.

He angers again when Sonic doesn't listen and continues to insist of saving the Ghost Hill imprints, but look at the way he talks:

SHADOW: No! They can't be saved. Think about your real friends, the ones who still have a chance. If you want to help them, we need to get out of here.

He doesn't sound that angry at first. A little desperate, maybe, but he doesn't sound angry until his last sentence. His frustration's building at Sonic not listening, and he's having to reason against his own motivation. Does Shadow want Sonic's friends back? Maybe! We don't know his relationship with any of them in Prime. But we do know Shadow wants to get home more than he wants to save them.

It seems then to irritate him to have to use this line of reasoning, but he's not necessarily angry at Sonic for having to use it -- remember, he expected something like this. And clearly does understand Sonic's flaws and motivations; it's just that this time, he's not seeing them for why Sonic would be a liability to him, or why he's better suited to save Green Hill than Sonic. This time, he uses his knowledge of them to work around Sonic and keep his help.

He could technically leave Sonic behind at this point. He doesn't know that Sonic himself has actual value until Nine implies what he's found out about Sonic's shard energy later in the episode. If he keeps Sonic with him, he only runs the risk of ending up in the same place as the end of last season, Sonic having made the same mistakes. At least, that's how he could look at it.

But he does clearly care for Sonic. We know their dynamic is odd to others, in Prime. What we hear about their fights at the start of s1 implies that they are frequent, and also that both parties enjoy them. For better or worse (again), Shadow seems to now be aware that Sonic is part of home for him, and he doesn't want to lose Sonic. (a similar attitude Sonic had towards him at the start if s2)

When talking about Nine's betrayal, Shadow's anger is not directed at Sonic. The easiest way to see that is simply that he's not looking at Sonic whilst talking about it, but I think you can also see it in the way he talks about their revenge. When he says, "And he will pay for it.", he sounds like he's attempting to reassure Sonic.

It's worth noting, of course, that Shadow has never really understood Sonic and Nine's bond. He couldn't understand why Sonic trusted him, and he won't understand why Sonic wants to reason with him in the future, so he does think that assuring Sonic of their success in what he perceives as a big step towards their goal helps.

We can also see him being not visibly annoyed at Sonic messing around, in both of these scenes. He's not hostile about Sonic's ribbing about saving him, or his silly teasing about the robot version looking like both of them. He's used to it. It seems he maybe even likes it, if not at least tolerates it. He likes, or at least tolerates, being around Sonic. It's just that his default for getting points across, or when faced with something he doesn't fully understand, or when provoked, is anger. He is not without his flaws too.

He angers again when Sonic insists again on something he sees as futile -- reasoning with Nine. But as established, he doesn't understand quite why Sonic cares for Nine. He seems to make the same mistake Nine himself does in believing that Sonic only cares about him because of Tails, which is not true. He's biased towards Nine because of Tails, but we've seen him be excited about teaching Nine new things that Tails wouldn't need! He does like Nine for Nine, even if there is a flaw in there of him seeing Nine as an extension of Tails.

And then the reveal scene of Sonic as the final shard. After Nine implies something else has prism energy, we first see Shadow stare slightly surprised at Sonic. I read this a quieter realisation. He knows the connection between the energy and Sonic instantly, and looks at Sonic in concern as he thinks.

Then he makes eye contact with Nine, who only confirms his suspicions with something of a taunting glare. This is when he realises why this is important, and that he is definitely right. And then, and only then, does he anger. Not at Sonic again, but back at Nine.

There's a sort of protectiveness to it, this time. There's no "Sonic, you didn't realise this before!?", only an urgency to get Sonic out of there. Not both of them, just Sonic. He wanted both of them out when he had a choice about it, but now he sees Sonic as something valuable to both him and Nine. He wants to save Sonic because Sonic is home, but as he understands it, Nine wants Sonic for power and to jeopardise what Shadow himself wants. And so now, he sacrifices himself.

He knows that Sonic will keep trying to save everyone, and for better or worse (again again), he's who they'll all need to rely on. Honestly, Shadow sacrificing himself is a pretty big display of trust, for him. He doesn't have many other options, but... We know he believes in Sonic's way of finding another way. Rather than losing time trying that for both of them, he trusts in Sonic to find it himself, like he always does.

#Sonic prime #sonic prime spoilers #Sonic prime season 3 spoilers #Prime spoilers #shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #sonadow #<- if you want #Whiskers rambles #Long post

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tmntxthings · 3 months

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Author’s notes: short lil drabble ish cause i don’t ever remember writing leo as a yandere, have i only ever done donnie???

Warnings: yandere tendencies, stalking, implied murder, intimidation, gaslighting, manipulation, unedited

Song: House of Balloons/Glass Table Girls by The Weeknd

—————————————————————————

Yandere!Leonardo who is tired of watching you. He’s itching to talk to you. To have your eyes finally recognize the shadow that follows after you. For that attention you give so freely to be his. No one else should matter, you’re his whole world. It’s only fair if he becomes yours in return.

Yandere!Leonardo who seamlessly enters your life like it wasn’t pre-meditated. Like he hadn’t planned every minute detail. He was meticulous when it came to you. Think of him as your knight in shining armor. Come to him with all your troubles.

Yandere!Leonardo who fixes all of those issues that you have. Your neighbors in the apartment aren’t as loud anymore, actually you haven’t heard them fighting for a couple nights now. They must’ve made up or maybe even broke up! Either way it didn’t matter to you, finally you could get a good nights rest.

Yandere!Leonardo who starts draping himself over you. You guys are friends now. Friends touch! It takes some getting used to, but don’t worry it’ll be second nature soon. Don’t think too much about it. His frame leaning into yours, his arms going over your shoulders. He’s tired, he stayed up too late again. Won’t you let him rest against you for a little while? He’ll even close his eyes.

Yandere!Leonardo who thought he had taken care of all your little love interests. But he portals over unannounced only to hear you gushing about this new guy, someone from your finance class. He creeps closer to your bedroom door, it’s cracked open, just a sliver. He peers through to see you bouncing around, jumping on your bed to kick your feet out happily.

Yandere!Leonardo whose eyes grow cold as the phone call hangs up. Words of encouragement were given to you. To finally go after a crush since the last couple had gone so horribly. He thinks this kind of puppy love isn’t good for you. Why can’t you just catch on already? Does he have to spell it out for you?

The door creaks open.

You lurch up, smile disappearing from your face.

So does your flush. You look ashen now.

Maybe it was because he had a sword out.

He’d never pointed one towards you.

Despite his weapon now facing you, he tilts his head and tries for a smile. It’s strained, his eyes looking at you with barely restrained mania. It’s been hard keeping his true self hidden from you. The side that wants to whisk you away and keep you from the rest of the world. No one else deserves you. Your happiness. Your smiles. Your attention, that was all his.

“You belong to me.”

—————————————————————————

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headquarters90 · 7 months

Text

Comfort (Damian Wayne)

Pairing: Damian Wayne x Reader

Words:

Warnings: implied depression, nudity but no smut, daddy issues

A/N: It's been awhile since I've posted for the batfam. I think I burnt myself out trying to focus on a series that I was doing for my own pleasure on here anyways. Kind of fighting a current bout myself and decided to write this to make me feel better. Hopefully, I'm back on my grove soon!

Please read

Releasing a sigh, you rubbed the heel of your palm against your forehead before bringing it down to rub at your eye. You can feel your tiredness sink into you and yet you knew that chances of sleep was slim.

“Beloved?”

Hearing the soft voice, you found yourself turning your head in that direction, noticing the shadow that stood by your window.

“Hi,” you murmured softly, watching as the shadow came closer until the light could hit him and you noticed the concerned look on his face.

“Why are we up so late?” Damian asked softly, putting his weapon against the wall before coming to kneel before you. “Everything alright?”

“Tired,” you answered softly and he frowned softly, watching you before he stood, offering a hand.

“Come on, shower then.”

You lifted your head to look at him, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Tt. Come on, beloved.”

You stared at him and he heaved a sigh before leaning over and lifting you up, causing a squeak to leave you.

“What are you doing?” You questioned and he gave you a dull look.

“We’re going to shower, love,” he answered plainly as he made his way to the bathroom with you in his arms.

“But I don’t-”

“Y/N.”

Scrunching your nose, you nodded as he placed you on the counter before going about getting the shower ready.

Your eyes watched him before they flirted over him. Out of habit, and maybe to try to get out of the shower situation, your eyes searched for any indication for a wound. It wouldn’t have been the first time you’ve patched him up.

If he could, he preferred you to do it anyways.

But you couldn’t see any. So, unfortunately, you’ll have his undivided attention.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen you naked before, that wasn’t the issue. You…just didn’t want to focus on yourself right now and you knew that’s what will happen. Especially since he could always tell when you weren’t okay.

You honestly just wanted to lay in bed under the covers and hide away.

“My love?”

You found yourself blinking, your eyes lifted to meet his, and it was only then that you realized he was done getting the shower ready.

And that he had managed to undress in the meantime too.

“Let’s get you undressed, beloved,” he murmured, gently pulling you off the counter.

You allowed him to take your clothes off, silently enjoying the feelings of his hands against your skin.

“I don’t know why you try to put up a fight every time you feel this way,” he spoke softly as one of his hands rested against the side of her neck. “I know it’s not body image. We handled that already.”

“Just…want to hide away,” you admitted quietly, allowing him to lead you into the shower, “and a lot of work.”

“And yet you appreciate it every time,” Damian mused, wrapping his arms around your waist as you melted into him.

“Yeah, I know,” you murmured, resting your head on his shoulder.

The two of you stood like that for a bit before you felt him press a kiss against your temple as one of his arms reached out for something.

“Close your eyes and tilt your head back,” he ordered softly and you did just that, feeling the water run down your hair before he was tilted your head forward and hands began to massage shampoo into your hair.

He was careful not to get soap in your eyes as he rinsed it out before doing the same thing with conditioner.

Damian was careful and slow when it came to washing your body and it made you give a small smile.

“What about you?” You questioned softly as he reached to turn off the shower. “You just got back from patrol.”

“I’ll worry about myself later,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “You being okay is more important right now.”

“Imagine what your brothers would say if they saw you now,” you teased softly, earning a chuckle from him.

“Feeling somewhat better then?” He asked, wrapping a towel around his waist before wrapping one around you.

“A little bit,” you answered, walking out of the bathroom. Stumbling a bit when he gently pushed you towards the bed, you scowled to yourself before taking a seat on said bed, your eyes tracking him as he shuffled through drawers.

He tossed a shirt onto the bed before he pulled on some sweats and you looked at the shirt, smiling softly at the sight of one of the few t-shirts he owned.

Removing the towel from yourself, you pulled the shirt on before moving to get under the covers. He joined you not soon after.

Pulling you into his chest, the two of you laid like that. His fingers gently trailed up and down your back, occasionally tracing some type of pattern or word, and his other hand held yours against his chest.

“Thank you,” you murmured softly, turning your head just enough to press a kiss against his chest.

“Of course, my beloved,” he pressed a kiss against your head, “I’m here whenever you need me,” he promised. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

#damian x reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne

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leclsrc · 5 months

Note

congrats on 5k!!! :0

if you feel so inclined… charles and prompt 14 or 17 from the nsfw list please? :)

on the way – cl16

(tipsy sex & marking) Charles can usually control himself better than this.

auds here... i cheated! it's not tipsy sex per se... but there r MANY smut references so i hope u enjoy it nonetheless!!!!

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... male masturbation, mentions of penetrative/handjob sex (f receiving), oral sex (m receiving), charles & reader are in an undefined (implied fwb/fuck buddy) relationship

You said you’d try to hide them.

Granted, he thinks to himself, there was a clear attempt—semi-opaque patches of your most expensive concealer, dabbed with precision over the darkened blotches of love on your throat and the slightly lighter one on the protrusion of your left collarbone. But it’s not enough, the purples still filtering through like moonlight through thick blinds. Like last night, in his hotel room, when you’d whimpered his name through a strained voice, begged for more.

And you’re giggling, muffling an angelic laugh into the heel of your palm, into the same little hand that’d been wrapped around his cock less than twenty-four hours ago. Beside you, Lissie is digging her elbow into your waist to tease, but your eyes meet his and you seem to possess no ounce of regret.

No regret over having to leave the room at the crack of dawn, exchanging sloppy kisses in lieu of a formal goodbye. No regret over waking up to a self-set alarm instead of sleeping in, feeling Charles’ fingers already at your thighs. Just give me one, angel, he groaned out, feeling your cunt gush around him. No regret there at all.

So? He can hear Lissie’s impatience from metres away. He watches you another minute, watches you sweep your waved hair over your shoulder to try and hide them in the shadow, then turns to respond to something Pierre is saying. He can’t suppress his own smirk when he listens to her follow-up question. Who left those marks?

He retires to an empty hotel room, thinks of shooting you a text but thinks better after a split second. Thinks worse after a split of Scotch, thumb hovering over the send button on your text thread, which is always composed of the same shit: room numbers, times, greenlights. He thought it’d be easier to have this whole arrangement, considering it was his idea—but God, when he sees you, it’s like something in him just changes.

And tonight, when you’d worn that black dress, thin straps showing the remnants of your tan from over the summer. He wonders how insane he must’ve been to think he wouldn’t need you all the time. Wonders how much more of this he can take before he goes insane again. He wasn’t always this needy, was he? It’s you, he thinks, that’s the only explanation.

Your scent, sweet and natural, your eyes, the way they blink up at him when you’re on your knees, your lips, your body, everything. He sneaks a glance at his crotch, his hard-on thick under his jeans from the conjured memory of you alone. He feels himself get harder, thoughts running more rampant—last night, when you’d been so wet for him, so needy.

His mind pleasantly hazed out, he tugs his cock out and wraps his hand around the head, giving himself a few slow strokes. His hand’s so rough, so big—a contrast from yours, so much smaller your fingertips fail to meet around the girth of him. He tries to imagine that, then your lips, the perfect full curve of them wrapped around him, staying still so he can fuck into them. You’re addictive, he thinks, murmuring your name as he speeds up his pace.

If it’s genuinely something, or if it’s just plain lust—Charles could care less at this moment.

At this moment, actually, he’s positive this is just thick, intense lust, a near craving to fold you in half and stretch you open around his dick. His hand moves faster, harder, and he thinks finally of the way you moan his name—high, needy, damp against his ear—and he opens his eyes and pants, watching his spend leak out of him.

Yeah, he needs you to come over.

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc drabble #charles leclerc smut #f1 x reader #leclsrc at 5000

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mousy-nona · 2 months

Note

Head-cannon for thought?

Lucifer has duck wings so they molt every spring and end of summer. Luci dealing with molting… with Alastor??

Excerpts from “Duck Care for Dummies: Hell Edition”:

Molting can be painful for your aquatic friends! Their skin can get very sensitive during this time, and some ducks may even pick on their fellow birds. Please be patient with them throughout the molting process.

Alastor looked up from the book with a grin that sent Angel Dust scurrying for cover.

“Very interesting,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming fever-bright.

The mystery started a few weeks ago. The denizens of the hotel had woken up one morning to find some mysterious prankster had scattered feathers everywhere – between the couch cushions, on the stairs, even stuffed between the kitchen cabinets and in between the radio speakers (that one felt a bit personal).

So began a strange battle, with the hotel on one side and what appeared to be the ghost of Mother Goose on the other. Every afternoon, they’d finish cleaning up the remnants of last night’s avian snowstorm, and every morning they’d wake up to find a new layer of radiant white down covering every possible – and impossible – surface.

Husk finally lost it when he found a stray piece of fluff floating in his rum. “Alright, ‘fess up! Who the hell is shaking their tail feathers around this damn place, huh?”

He glared daggers at Vaggie, whose very conspicuous wings flared wide as everyone turned to stare at her. She marched forward until she and Husk were nose to nose.

“What the hell are you implying, huh?”

“I think you know exactly what I’m implying, you overgrown chicken!”

It was mayhem. Charlie rushed to Vaggie’s defense, Angel Dust pulled out a bin of popcorn, Niffty started chanting kill kill kill kill at the top of her tiny lungs. But Alastor, who made a habit of haunting the shadows, spotted something no one else did: one of Lucifer’s hands twitching towards his back. Where his own wings would be, when he wasn’t hiding them.

“Interesting,” Alastor grinned, then disappeared to the library, where he found this book after a few hours of intense searching. Someone had moved it from the shelves and shoved it under a massive pile of papers – almost as if they didn’t want anyone to find it.

Unfortunately for Lucifer, Alastor was nothing if not thorough. Humming a swinging, jaunty tune, flipped to the last chapter.

So your duck is molting…what should you do about it?

Unlike their earthly counterparts, ducks in hell may go through a much longer molt without help. A good avian caretaker can speed up the process by helping brush out the feathers. A light touch is essential – using a soft brush or bare fingers is the best way to dislodge the plumage without hurting the sensitive skin underneath.

“Very interesting.”

He waited until nightfall to make his move. When the hotel had finally quieted down, and the only thing he could hear were the roaches in the walls, he willed himself to appear by Lucifer’s door and knocked, just once.

Lucifer cracked open the door, his eyes bloodshot and bleary. He looked as if he hadn’t slept properly in days. “Charlie, is that – oh. It’s you.” He sighed, visibly deflating when he saw who it was. Alastor’s smile widened.

Oh, he was going to enjoy every moment of this. Especially the parts where Lucifer would protest, and stutter, and turn as red as one of his beloved apples.

“I was doing a little light reading today, and stumbled upon a rather interesting passage.”

Lucifer scoffed and tried to slam the door in his face, but Alastor managed to slip his foot in the crack before he could.

“Alastor, it’s really way too late for this – “

Alastor held up the book in question, and Lucifer shut up immediately. A pink blush spread across his pale face. Alastor could have purred with satisfaction at the sight of it. Oh, how he enjoyed making Lucifer uncomfortable. It was quickly becoming one of his favorite pastimes.

“Would you like me to share a few verses with you? I must say, this portion about just how sensitive the skin grows during a molt is especially fascinating –”

“Shut up!” Lucifer stuck his head out into the hallway and hurriedly glanced around, checking to make sure if anyone had overheard him. Then he grabbed Alastor by the lapels and yanked him inside.

“Your Majesty, how very forward of you.”

Lucifer pinched his nose between two fingers and took a long breath in. Out. “So you figured it out, huh?”

“That you’ve been spreading your body parts all over the hotel?” Alastor chuckled merrily. “Quite. I found it especially interesting how fond your feathers were of my radios.”

Lucifer had the grace to look a little sheepish. “Okay, that was childish, I admit it. But you’re not exactly the easiest person to live with.”

“That’s entirely by design, I assure you.” Alastor stepped forward, his smile turning coy. “But this little midnight rendez-vous isn’t about me. It’s about you, and your rather, ah, feathery problem.”

Lucifer pouted, looking almost uncannily like one of his beloved toy ducks. “I’ve never gone through a molt alone, alright? Lilith is usually here to help me out, and…it’s a rather intimate thing to ask of Charlie.”

“That’s why I’m here!” Alastor grinned. “Alastor the Radio Demon, at your humble service.” He swept into a grand bow, ending it with a little flourish of his cane because he was a showman, first and foremost.

Lucifer blanched. “If you think I’m ever letting you within an inch of my wings–”

“And what’s the alternative, your Majesty? You’re going to fill the hotel with feathers until we all suffocate or drown? You’ll wait until Husk kills Vaggie?” He covered his mouth, feigning shock. “I didn’t realize you were so cruel! You would really stand by and do nothing as your daughter becomes a widow?”

Lucifer scoffed, but Alastor could tell that he’d hit a nerve. He paused and ran a frustrated hand through his golden hair.

There was a long moment of silence. Then finally – “I do need help.” The words were so quiet, spoken so quickly it could have been a passing breeze.

Alastor stepped forward and wrapped one arm around Lucifer’s thin shoulders. Lucifer was burning up, his back so hot Alastor could feel it through his gloves. “The night’s not getting any younger.” He leaned in so his lips brushed the shell of Lucifer’s ear, delighting in his shudder, in the bob of his throat as Lucifer gulped. A thin line of sweat trickled down his temple. Alastor’s mouth watered, but he forced himself to sit still and wait. “I suggest we start immediately.”

“Fine,” Lucifer sighed. Slowly, begrudgingly, he stripped off his coat and shirt, then willed his wings into existence. All six of them sprang out in a veritable shower of feathers. Alastor was covered in the stuff – feathers were in his hair, on his suit, stuck on his pants. A few of them even landed in his mouth, to his great displeasure.

He spat them out and glared daggers at the angel, who looked like he might burst out laughing. “Sorry,” Lucifer said, not sounding even the slightest bit apologetic about the mess.

Alastor determinedly shook off the plumes that he could find. Then he stepped forward, stripping off his gloves as he loomed over Lucifer’s wings. His smile grew as Lucifer shrunk back, staring nervously at the sharp points of his claws as they drew closer and closer to his tender skin.

“Can’t you keep those things on?” He squeaked.

“No can do!” Alastor said, almost sing-song with glee. “The book said it would be better with bare hands.”

“They probably didn’t think of the claws – oh!” He jolted upright, as if he’d been tazed. His eyes fluttered closed, a truly indecent sound ripping from his throat as Alastor rubbed the outer spot of his wings. A few feathers flew off, revealing bare skin beneath. With a gentleness that Alastor hadn’t known he’d possessed, he rubbed carefully around the frame of the wings first, working from left to right as he freed Lucifer of the worst of the molting.

Lucifer grit his teeth, his throat working as he fought to keep those strange sounds inside, but more and more escaped as Alastor finished with the edge of his wings and started working his way inward, towards the spot where his wings folded into his shoulder blades. At one point, Alastor brushed against a particularly sensitive zone near his upper back, and Lucifer let loose a long, low moan, his back arching up against Alastor’s graceful fingers.

And Alastor, being Alastor, couldn’t let it slide.

“Having fun, your Majesty?”

Lucifer turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. Like strawberries in spring. “Shut up,” he muttered.

Alastor’s hand stilled. “Why, I thought I was doing you a favor. I could stop here…”

“No!” Lucifer yelped, then buried his head in his arms, as if he wished the floor would swallow him whole. “I mean…”

“Yes?” Alastor prompted. The embarrassment! The shame! Lucifer’s humiliation was sweet on his tongue, like blood and spun sugar.

“Please continue,” Lucifer whispered, his voice mouse-quiet. Alastor chuckled.

“It would be my pleasure.”

Lucifer jerked and arched as Alastor finished his ministrations, the white pile of feathers on the floor growing into hills, then mountains. Finally, Alastor leaned back, humming with satisfaction at a job well done.

“I daresay my work here is finished.”

Lucifer sighed, shaking out his wings with a groan of satisfaction. “They feel so light! I can’t remember the last time I could move them like this. I – Alastor, thank you.”

Alastor grinned. “Save your thanks. Let’s just say…you owe me one.”

Lucifer blanched and shook his head. “I am definitely not saying that.”

As Alastor turned to leave, Lucifer grabbed his shoulder.

“My molting season…it doesn’t end for another few weeks.”

“And…?” Alastor prompted, his Cheshire cat grin stretched almost impossibly wide.

“I would appreciate it if we could do this again,” Lucifer said, too fast, as if he thought he could pretend he never said it if he said it quickly enough.

"An interesting idea! I'll be sure to give it some thought."

Lucifer spluttered, but Alastor was already gone, his radio laugh echoing endlessly into the night.

#radioapple #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel lucifer #duckiedeer #lucifer molts #prompts #asks

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kaeyx · 8 months

Text

Little agreement - pt. 2

Pairing: beast!skk x gn!afab!reader

Warnings: smut

Additional notes: Based on @scaramouches-girlfriend's one shot of the same name, and serving as a continuation. Thank you very much for letting me put my spin on your work! More detailed information about contents under the cut.

Additional information/terminology used:

Names used for reader: pet, baby, darling (Dazai), doll (Chuuya)

Terms used for reader's anatomy: cunt, entrance, folds, sex,

Additional notes: Dazai calls chuuya his dog, first time and short discussion (like two lines) on the reader being a virgin, Dazai briefly implies he wants to go bareback

Edit: here's the link to the original if you want to read it!

"Well?"

You blink. This is pretty much the opposite of what a working environment should be, but then again.... it's not like mafiosos have unions. This is a shell company anyway. And if Dazai brought you specifically all the way here, it's probably not a test.

You push away from your desk, going over to Chuuya's side like a well trained pet, all while twisting your fingers together behind your back. The way he smiles sends heat spearing through you, and you try very hard to not think about the shadow pressing against his dark slacks and the way your skin is on fire.

"Get in." He gestures with his head, fiery hair falling around his cheeks. The massive doors click closed behind you.

The office is huge and beautiful, one wall made entirely of glass and allowing you a sweeping view of the city, the harbour and the glittering sea. A huge desk made of dark wood sits at the end of the room, and the boss of the port mafia is kneeling in front of it with a knowing look on his face. You walk forward a few steps, unsure, before Chuuya's hand presses between your shoulder blades and leads you all the way forward and around the desk. The tousled mess of dark hair that is Dazai observes you from underneath, and you feel like that fathomless eye is seeing right through to your very soul.

There's no time to worry about that though, not when a pair of hands slide around your waist and a warm mouth presses a kiss just above your collar, on the back of your neck. You jump in surprise, drawing a sharp breath and feeling how Chuuya's lips curl into a smile against your skin.

"I don't have all day." He reminds you, though his voice carries no actual annoyance.

Still it's enough to snap you out of your thoughts and you reach for the waistband of your pants. You undo the button with clumsy fingers and push the fabric over your hips, before Chuuya tugs everything down to your knees with impatience and kicks your feet apart. The message is clear, and you bend over the desk in a haze. It could almost be dismissed as a dream, a fantasy, but the leather-clad fingertips skimming across your back are very real indeed.

Your previous, covert grinding combined with the sound of Chuuya's moans coming through the door already had you feeling hot under the collar, but by now you're properly dripping. Dazai is still looking up at you, devouring each change in expression with the small, satisfied smile of a man whose plan has fallen perfectly into place.

The comparatively cold air washes over your sex and you shiver a little as Chuuya runs a hand over your lower back, pressing down to force your hips up a little more before sliding down to the back of your thighs with firm, shameless pressure. Despite his modest stature his hands are big, long fingers encased in pretty black leather spreading you open just a little. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to ignore how you must be visibly twitching, and how entertained Dazai looks by the whole ordeal.

"It's this bad already? You're dripping." Chuuya sounds half awed, half smug, his voice an appreciative purr.

"Poor pet, you need it that badly?" Dazai coos condescendingly, reaching out to run his knuckles over your cheek and stroke your forehead.

You hear the rustle of clothes as he shifts, still on his knees but now sounding much closer. Fingers stroke the back of your thighs and the curve of your ass, leisurely drawing closer to their target.

"Never had anything this good, darling?" The brunette's voice is deceptively sweet, but a boney hand grabs your jaw at an awkward angle and your eyes shoot open.

"Look at me when I talk to you, and answer." Dazai smiles, and it's a cruel thing. You squirm a little, wiggling your hips in the process and hearing a quiet hiss from behind. Chuuya's eyes are boring into the back of your neck, but he doesn't intervene.

"I've....never had anything like this, no." You answer at last. Could anyone truly ever have a comparable experience? "....Never had anything at all." You admit a little quieter, looking determinately down at the desk.

There's a little pause and your face grows hotter than ever, before Chuuya's voice comes from over your shoulder.

"Never?" He says above you, moving away from your entrance to rub his thumbs back and forth across your hips. You shut your eyes to escape Dazai's gaze, focusing on the polished mahogany of the desk against your cheek, but that's as good as any answer.

"Never," Dazai says breathlessly, running a finger over your jaw. "Aw."

"Hah, you're so cute, I can't believe no-one's gotten a hold of you before." Chuuya's gaze is burning into your back with renewed interest, his gloved fingers slipping under your shirt. The touches along your lower spine makes you shiver and arch your back a fraction, pushing your ass further up. He laughs, his voice low and raspy, way too damn attractive to be fair.

"Fuck... sensitive, are you? Going to let me take you like this?"

You swallow, but don't even have to think about it.

"Yes."

Something presses quickly against your back. Chuuya has bent down and given you a kiss before stepping back. "Just in case, baby." You hear a rustling and then the crinkle of plastic. "Fuck knows where he's been, don't want you catching anything." That's clearly directed at Dazai, who just grins.

"Don't worry darling, I'll take proper care of you." His dark eye is level with yours, the bottomless fathoms glinting. "I promise I won't let anything get in the way."

"Like hell I'm letting you have this," Chuuya growls. Something curls, satisfied, in your lower abdomen when you hear him.

"Hey, hey, be a good dog and share!" Dazai says lightly, his gaze flicking up to the man poised above you, centimetres away from sinking into you.

Suddenly the two bodies shift, Chuuya reaching out and grabbing a fistful of Dazai's tie and shirt to yank him up and forward. There's a delighted laugh that turns into a moan and Chuuya's body seems to vibrate with a growl that makes you shiver, warmth curling in your stomach. You feel two long, clammy hands grip the sides of your head and hold it in place, as something warm and twitching is pressed against your cheek and nose. Dazai, shuffling slightly to grind against you. You obligingly nudge the dark fabric of his pants and the heat beneath. There's a faint satisfaction in feeling him shiver as Chuuya continues to kiss him, grabbing him with the hand that isn't curling possessively around your hip.

There must have been pointed looks exchanged because Dazai simpers a little but backs off when Chuuya finally shoves him away. He leans down again so his face is level to yours on the desk and observes you closely with that single, dark eye. One of his fingers runs down your cheek, cold and boney, the bitten off nail scratching you ever so slightly. He smiles, and it's a cruel, mesmerising thing to see. You feel Chuuya squeeze your hip, tugging it up a little and raising your ass higher.

"Don't worry about him, I've waited for you long enough," he mutters.

You feel something prodding against you, his thumb barely parting your folds, and... it hurts. You take a deep breath, twitching involuntarily, feeling the sting at your entrance. Chuuya lets out a gorgeous, choked off gasp and your eyes go hazy, feeling Dazai pet your cheek and lean in closer with open curiosity on his face.

Chuuya more or less fits inside, pressing forward at a steady pace until his hips meet your ass. You feel him lean back and squeeze your waist appreciatively, his eyes boring holes into your back, and you shiver. Another involuntary pulse around him and his fingers tighten. Dazai's thumb presses against your mouth.

"Don't worry doll," Chuuya reassures, though his voice is strangled, "you're okay." He takes a deep, shaky breath and the heavy length inside you twitches again, making your walls pulse around him. "Does it hurt?"

You nod slightly and try not to notice how Dazai's eye lights up at the admission, running all over your scrunched up face while your cheeks burn, and your body is still protesting at the intrusion. Chuuya rubs your hips, kneading circles into the flesh and just sitting there. He doesn't say anything, but his breaths are shallow and fast, giving away his impatience. You belatedly realise he's waiting for permission, and something in your chest warms at the thought.

It's a little hard to look over your shoulder but you manage anyway, giving Chuuya a nod. "I'm okay now."

The movement is worth it just for the view, his hair messy and falling in his eyes and his hat a little askew, a definite tinge of pink to his cheeks. He grins at you, in a way that makes your stomach drop with anticipation and a little bit of fear, and rolls his hips experimentally.

You rest your head back on the table with a strangled whine, your eyes unfocusing for an instant before refocusing on Dazai's amused expression. Chuuya starts to pick up the pace and a full body shiver goes through you, goosebumps rising along your arms as you scrabble for purchase on the desk, mewling. Dazai laughs, a smooth little chuckle that suits his voice.

It gets harder and harder to focus as he sets an unforgiving pace, making your hips knock against the edge of the desk with enough force that you know they'll be bruised. Chuuya moans shamelessly, a gorgeous, breathless sound that sends shivers down your spine and makes need creep up into your chest. You could listen to this forever.

Dazai kneels before you, dark eye peering into your face and watching greedily as your face scrunches up and goes slack, moans and gasps being choked from your throat with every thrust. Now you understand why Dazai was making the noises you heard through the wall earlier.

There's a shift, Chuuya's hand pressing into your lower back to keep it pinned to the desk below as the other circles around to your front. His fingers carefully explore your flushed skin, reaching between your legs and coming away connected by a web of slick. He lets out a grunt of satisfaction and smears the mess over your thigh before finally reaching for your clit.

You hadn't even realised how neglected you were, too caught up in the improbable situation, but the texture of the leather feels foreign in such a perfect way on the flushed nub that you can't help your eyes rolling back a little.

His name slips out of you in a whine and you try to roll your hips but are met with the firm pressure of his other hand still on your back. Chuuya laughs as you shiver, a breathless sound full of satisfaction. He strokes and prods until his fingers find a rhythm, rubbing across the tender bundle of nerves while he happily slams into your cunt.

Dimly you realise two of Dazai's fingers are in your slack mouth, turning your moans and pleas into muffled whines. The brunette's other hand is busy with himself, stroking and palming the hardness in his slacks while he looks at you with hunger.

Everything mounts too fast, and you might be pleading for something through Dazai's probing digits pressing on your tongue. Chuuya leans down slightly, his heaving chest nearly touching you, his beautiful voice wavering. "Feels good?"

You let out a muffled whine, hopefully conveying the sheer need coursing through your body and lighting up every nerve. Your cunt is pulsing rhythmically, every muscle taut as you feel your need mounting with every thrust, every quick swirl of his fingers around your twitching clit.

"Hmm?" Chuuya's voice is nearly a growl, hoarse with lust. "That good? Fuck, are you close?" His head falls forward and he rests his forehead against your back. "I can't... 'm not gonna last."

A frantic nod comes from you and you wriggle your hips, trying to fuck yourself on his cock. He's got you pinned though, unable to do much more than rock back and forth in time with his movements.

"Good, that's good. Let go doll, want to feel you cum all over me."

With a command like that and in Chuuya's voice no less, you're teetering on the edge embarrassingly fast. The steady pistoning in and out of you, his fingers toying with you as if he can read your mind, Dazai's flushed face as he keeps humping his hand and fucking your throat with his fingers, it's all too much. You tip over with a muffled cry of Chuuya's name, shaking uncontrollably as your eyes unfocus and every nerve in your body sings.

And with the way your insides are twitching and fluttering around him Chuuya doesn't hold on any longer than you do, feeling your walls milk him as his own climax slams into him and steals his breath. He curls over you with a quiet gasp, also shaking as his movements stutter and then come to a halt.

The office swims back into your perception as you begin to recover, feeling how close Chuuya is now, and how his fingers and cock are sitting still, pressed against you. Breathing heavily and quickly you let your eyes shut, your legs trembling a little.

"That's enough Dazai, hands off," Chuuya says from above, managing to sound authoritative even though he's still breathless, the last few drips of cum dribbling out of him.

"But I'm not finished!" Dazai whines, looking up at you with his eye blown wide. He stops touching himself though, reluctantly taking his hand away and resting it on the desk with a glare at Chuuya.

"Yeah, that's because you don't behave." You can hear the grin in the redhead's voice, and feel his iron grip tighten a little more in a reassuring squeeze around your hips. You're still clamped down around him, enjoying the waves of pleasure lap at the edges of your consciousness as you come down from your high.

Chuuya eases himself out of you, but you don't even have the chance to miss the stretch before two leather clad fingers sink into your cunt, rubbing the gooey walls and scissoring you open a little more. You manage a soft, appreciative groan with your eyes still closed.

"I can assume you'll be coming back, right?" Chuuya asks, with a smug little lilt in his tone that suggests the question is rhetorical. You manage a little laugh, blinking your eyes open and looking at Dazai's tousled hair and flushed cheeks, at the way his eyes are sparking with unfulfilled greed.

"Yeah. Yeah I will."

#chuuya.bsd #dazai.bsd #chuuya x reader #dazai x reader #chuuya smut #dazai smut #sorry if there's any mistakes this is neither proofread nor edited #beast chuuya #beast dazai #dazai x reader x chuuya

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selineram3421 · 5 months

Text

*those sleepy thoughts* What if?

The Red Mist

Prologue

Alastor X Sleepy Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ italics = thoughts, implied/suggestive comment, murder, all caps for screeching ⚠

Everything was red.

You were confused when you first opened your eyes. None of it felt real, everything felt out of place and fuzzy.

What is going on? Where am I? You thought as you walked down the street.

At some point you ended up in a bar. Not wanting to stay standing in a corner, you went over to a booth and sat down. With a sigh, you rest your head on the table, trying to gather your thoughts.

Why is everything so weird? I feel lightheaded..

You didn't notice the eyes on you from the creatures across the room.

Alastor was on a stroll through Hell.

For some reason today was energizing! There a strange shift in the air and he wanted to find what caused it.

Of course he had to go out!

Walking down one of the many alley ways, he finds an average sized demon surrounded by..wolves.

"Just leave me alone, I have to find-", they try to push through but get shoved back into the brick wall behind them.

"We'll help you cutie~ Just let us get a taste first.", one of the drooling beasts says.

"I said leave me alone!", they shout, shoving one of the demons away as they try to leave.

"Oh no you don't-!", one growls, reaching over to grab their arm.

Obviously before that could happen Alastor stepped in, with a snap of his fingers there were tendrils and shadows shredding the group of dogs.

He appears before the demon trying to run and holds them in place, turning them to face the glorious scene of bloodshed.

"Now, now! No need to run anymore, enjoy the show!", the deer demon's grin widens as he feels them stiffen in his grasp.

It didn't take long to tear apart the demons, so all that was left of the group of beasts was on the ground. A pile of red meat.

"The show has ended, what a shame.", the Radio Demon sighs and focuses his attention to the demon in his hold. "And who might you be?"

"Introduce yourself first.", they reply looking up at him with a glare.

How cute. Alastor grinned, releasing the demon before taking a step back and giving a proper show man bow.

"Apologies! I am Alastor, the Radio Demon.", he smiles politely as he stands straight. "Now you."

"A dreamer.", they respond, catching him by surprise.

A dreamer? What do the mean?

Before he could ask what they meant, the demon stumbled and fell forward. On instinct, he went to catch them.

Holding them close, he watched as parts of them started to fade away like mist.

"What in the-?"

They stared at him before giving a smile.

"This was a better dream.", they said, closing their eyes.

In an instant their body turned into red mist, leaving him completely confused. Moving his arms back, he stood in the alley way to think.

Dream?

"GET UP!", you heard before feeling something smack you in the face.

"Oof-!"

Sitting up with a groan, you see your little sister dash out of the room, hearing her mischievous giggles.

"I guess someone isn't getting pancakes!", you say.

You laugh when hearing her gasp.

"I want pancakes!", she runs back in and belly flops on the bed. "I won't do it again!"

Patting her on the head, you smile and do what any older sibling would.

Mess up her hair.

"Ah! Hey!", she yells and smacks your hand.

"Now we're even!", you say and get up to stretch. "Let's make chocolate chip pancakes.", you say before heading out of your room.

"Yay!", she cheers and runs to the kitchen. "I want strawberry milk!"

While you were getting the ingredients and cooking tools, you remembered a piece of your dream.

Red eyes? You thought while placing the mixing bowl on the counter.

Trying to put your dream together, you remember seeing a handsome face before being woken up.

Did I dream of a hot guy with red eyes?

*avoiding eye contact* 👀 May or may not have had a dream about a hot guy with red eyes.

~Seline, the person.

Part 1

Taglist@

@willowaudreykeyes @kiraisastay @naelys-the-aster @scary-noodlesblog @ducky-died-inside @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @biromanticboba @lbcreations-blog @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

#alastor x reader #gn reader #alastor #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #hazbin hotel alastor #x reader #alastor the radio demon #fanfic #the radio demon #radio demon #sleepy reader #human reader #dreaming #the realm of dreams?#or #dimension hopping?

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reareaotaku · 7 months

Text

Let Me Cut You Up

Day 3 of Kinktober: Knife Play Pairings: Yandere! Billy Loomis x Reader [Implied Poly] Tw: Knife, Blood, NSFW, Dubcon, Dry-Humping [It ended a little weird....]

It was Billy's idea, not yours. You didn't really trust him to hold a weapon so close to your skin. He also had this look in his eyes that made you scared that he would hurt you.

The sharp blade softly grazes your cheeks as he looks down at you, a loving look in his eye. Though behind those eyes were dangerous thoughts. He wanted to carve his name into your body so everyone knew who you belonged to.

But he didn't want to scare you. He already had to do a lot of convincing just for you to allow him to bring a knife into the bedroom. If he had carved you like a jack-o-lattern, you'd never trust him again.

You felt a sting on your cheek as he digs the knife in lightly. He watched as the blood dripped down your cheek. He smiled to himself, as he swiped at the blood with his thumb. He swipes his tongue across the thumb, licking the blood, causing you to internally cringe. You hated it, in fact he scared the fuck out of you; And this wasn't helping.

He pulls your legs around him, before pushing up your shirt. He skims the knife across your stomach, enjoying the way your breathing brought your stomach up and down. You grimaced as he brought it in deeper and deeper until he finally broke skin, again.

You lightly moaned and Billy groaned in your ear. He pushed the knife down your pants, slowly cutting them.

"Billy, what the hell? I liked those pants."

He ignores you, before pulling at your lacy panties. The knife digs into the lace, before ripping it. You wanted to fight with him, because he was destroying your clothes. Your EXPENSIVE clothes. Well- you were going to say something, until you felt the blade skim over your pussy. It was cold and hard. Your breath got harder as you watched him.

He was way too into this and you were starting to regret this. Maybe you should kick him? No, cause then he'd get mad and you'd be in bigger trouble. He had a knife and you did not.

He laid the blade flat on your pussy before slowly skimming it down. Your body involuntary shivered at the cold blade. You could hear him chuckle, as he slowly pushed the handle into you.

"Billy-"

"Shhh, just relax baby."

You didn't want him to stick in inside of you. But at least he wasn't shoving it into you like Stu would. God, Stu would of stuck the blade inside and thinking that caused you to tighten up. You groan when your pussy tightened around the curved handle. Billy slowly started to move it in and out, before pulling it out right when your stomach started to turn.

You lightly moaned at the loss, but your eyes widened when seeing him lick the handle. He pushed it towards your mouth.

"Suck."

You opened your mouth, kitty licking the handle, before he decided he didn't want to play games anymore and pushed it into your mouth. You struggled, but your mouth quickly adjusted to the handle.

He pulled it out, twisting the knife inbetween his fingers and grabbing the handle and the blade was touching your lips. You watched him closely as he pulled it back. He grabbed your thigh with his other hand and wrapped it around his waist. You could feel his hardened dick on your crotch, but your eyes were still on the knife.

He put the knife under your chin and pushed you up to make eye contact with him. His eyes were dark and shadowed with lust. He started to slowly thrust into your body as the knife dug deeper and deeper into your skin. You could hear his grunts and groans as he got closer and closer to his release.

You yelped when he broke skin, but Billy was so close to release that he wasn't listening to you. You tried to call his name, but he just thrusted faster, before his body started to shudder and he slowed down. He pulled the knife away, finally looking back at you. He lightly grazed his finger across the cut under your chin, before sticking the finger in his mouth and sucking on the blood.

He popped it out and placed the knife on the nightstand next to your bed. "Let me get some bandages so you don't get an infection."

#yandere scream #scream x reader #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #billy x reader #billy loomis x you #billy loomis imagine #yandere x reader #yandere billy loomis #yandere billy x reader #yandere billy loomis x reader #yandere imagines #yandere scream x reader #yandere horror #yandere horror x reader #yandere slasher #yandere slasher x reader

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cillianmesoftlyyy · 4 months

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I Can Fix That... | Dr. Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary| She's the detective assigned to investigate one of Gotham's top villains, Falcone, but as she follows her leads, she uncovers a new suspect: Dr. Jonathan Crane. His charisma and good looks won't stand in the way of justice, or at least that's what she thinks.

Warnings| Mentions of self-harm in the beginning in accordance to the movie (Batman Begins 2005). Not explicitly discussed but implied sexist and misogynistic work environment. Some archaic language when discussing psychiatric hospitals bc I tried to follow the language that the movie used. Violence with needles, drugging someone. Gun is mentioned but not used. Knife is mentioned a lot but never used to inflict pain. Smut, dubious consent, unprotected sex, restraints.

word count: 6757k (long-ass story bc I didn't want to make separate posts)

Song for a Guilty Sadist- Crywank 🎶

Butch 4 Butch- Rio Romeo 🎵

IFHY (feat. Pharrell)- Tyler, The Creator 🎶

Please read warnings before continuing, thanks <3

She had been following him for weeks, stealing into the shadows at every turn as Jonathan Crane walked through Gotham City’s Police Station. She’d been suspicious of him for months and with the men in the police force finally working up the nerve to investigate Gothem’s leading henchman, Falcone, she’d uncovered a theory that pointed simultaneously at the notorious psychiatrist. Of course, the men in her force had refused to believe her, reminding her of Crane’s long history with the department and work to establish Gothem’s Psychiatric Hospital for the Criminally Insane: Arkham Asylum. But the real reason why Crane had never been investigated was because of his status in the department of justice, and it didn’t hurt that the man was charismatic. He knew how to work the system to get what he wanted.

Jonathan Crane had a reputation of declaring criminals insane after mere minutes of deliberation, especially those who happened to work with or for Falcone. She’d been in charge of carrying out Falcone’s case and taking him to trial as a detective for the prosecution. After being put in jail, Falcone had managed to slash his wrists just enough to draw attention and a little bit of blood. He was immediately flagged for psychiatric evaluation, bringing Jonathan Crane once again into the basement interrogation rooms to administer an interview. When he clamored down the steps onto the basement floor, she was waiting for him by the door into Falcone’s interrogation room.

“Dr. Crane,” she greeted him with a smile, drawing every ounce of her long lost theater-kid days into play.

“Miss —,” he remembered her name and shook her hand with a serious glint in his blue eyes, covered by harsh rectangular glasses. His handshake was firm and strong, and he made eye contact that still shook her even after speaking with him so many times before. She didn’t let it show, however, and nodded towards the door.

“He cut his wrists last night during the changing of the guard but we don’t know how he even got access to the weapon that he used; and I’ve spoken with him numerous time since we processed him and he’s never given me any reason to suspect that he was mentally unstable, but of course, you are the professional. It’s better that he be evaluated anyway-”

“In case anything were to happen,” he finished for me and clenched his jaw. He gave a curt nod of his head and went inside, shutting the door behind him and drawing the blinds on the door closed. She scoffed quietly beneath her breath and clenched her fists. Don’t be fooled by his good looks or superior smile, she told herself, Jonathan Crane was capable of things that she didn’t know of yet. He was not someone to admire, he was someone to distrust.

After only ten minutes of quiet murmuring, she could hear clear and blood curdling screams through the door. She knocked on the door, “Dr. Crane?” She called through the door but it opened in her face before she could do anything. He stood in the doorway, his dark hair falling into his pale, angular face.

“He’s definitely what I would classify as mentally unstable,” he chuckled calmly as he side-stepped her and closed the door. He ran a hand through his hair and fixed the glasses perched on his nose. “I can’t treat him here, I’ll need to move him to Arkham.”

“Are you sure?” She asked, more surprised than anything. He had started to walk down the hallway to the stairs when he turned around, stopping right in front of her face, his breath fanned across her face.

“Are you questioning my diagnosis, detective?” He smirked, an underlying tone of warning below his wide-lipped smile. His blue eyes were unwavering as he studied her face, she swallowed to steady herself.

“No, sir. Of course not.” She apologized and crossed her arms across her chest, ducking her head nervously. When she looked back up, his eyebrow was cocked.

“Do I make you nervous, detective?” He smiled and she could tell he was setting a trap, attempting to make himself more likable, more trusting. As if he could be anything of the sort. She laughed lightly and met his eyes, holding his eye-contact defiantly.

“No, sir.” She answered and he nodded.

“Good day, Miss —.” He called with his back turned, walking to the stairs and climbing them quickly. She watched him leave and finally released a sigh of relief. There was something about him that unsettled her, but it was something that also attracted her with a devious strength, ripping factual and independent reasoning from her head.

She had started following him when one of Falcone’s men had been moved to Arkham two weeks before. She switched her assignment for the day to escort the man to Arkham, getting a chance to see the asylum for herself. It was a large gothic building with a modern facade in the center of Gotham. The attendants at the door led the prisoner (or patient now) through the heavily guarded door into the hospital’s main ward that was closed to visitors. Even police or other officials had to obtain a special license that granted them clearance into the institution. The second time she’d stepped inside, she was following a few yards behind Crane, studying how he actually entered the building. They had a separate entrance for the asylum’s psychiatrists at the side of the building by the alley. She waited a few minutes for Crane to enter the building before she approached the guard stationed at the door and flashed her badge. He’d allowed her in but warned that he’d lose his job if he did it again. The next time she followed him, she would need a new method of entering the building, one that didn’t alert Crane that she was in the building in case he got suspicious. When she entered it was easier to blend in so she followed the maze of hallways until she reached a small hub with arrows guiding attendants to the different wards of the hospital. Dr. Crane’s office was included in the psychiatrist ward (funny they had their own ward).

The psychiatrists each had their own labs, whether or not they used them was their own business, but she knew for sure that Crane used his but for what, she didn’t know. Walking down the hallway to his office, she peeked inside the wide panel of glass into his lab. He had one assistant who was copying his notes into a binder for Crane but quickly left when Crane shooed him away from the set of beakers and vials of powders he was working with. She flattened herself against the wall and pretended to answer a call on her phone as the assistant passed her in the hallway. She hurried to leave the institute, leaving through the same door she entered, thanking the security guard discreetly.

This time as she watched Crane climb the stairs, she pulled aside a police officer and explained Falcone’s transfer. The officer nodded and left to initiate the transfer to Arkham, Falcone’s hysterical screams still audible through the thick steel door. Crane tugged at the starched collar of his shirt as he crossed the lobby of the police station, sighing in relief. Falcone had tried to corner him. Him! Falcone may have been powerful but he was stupid and Crane didn’t have patience for stupidity especially from someone who was supposed to be a criminal mastermind. News flash: he wasn’t. Falcone was sloppy and arrogant, he didn’t take his own threats seriously. He’d threatened to tell the police about Crane’s experimental drug concoctions but in reality, he still didn’t know the full extent of what Crane was planning to do to Gotham.

“You don’t know anything,” Crane said pointedly, tired of Falcone’s attitude.

“I know that half of the drugs we moved belong to you and the police still don’t know what they are or what they can do.” Falcone scratched his greasy nose. Crane almost laughed. He removed his glasses and sighed, reaching into his open briefcase.

As soon as the words, “would you like to see my mask,” left his mouth, Falcone was done for. The only thing that had inspired a shred of panic for Crane was hearing the girl’s voice through the steel door, calling his name. He expected her to open the door and see his mask, and while he had an explanation that a normal officer would believe, he knew that she was different. He didn’t trust her but something about her made him laugh. She was good looking and smart but too invested in his work and he didn’t like that. He’d have to keep an eye on the young detective, Miss —. In fact, he’d like to strap her down… hide her away in his asylum and play with her head like he did with his other playthings - - - oops - - - patients. Same thing.

She pretended that her plan was straightforward, it was the only way that she could convince herself to go through with it. No one else in her department would have had the balls to sneak into the asylum where once you went in, you may not be able to leave, that is- if Dr. Crane diagnosed you accordingly. She left a note on her desk in her office, explaining where she was going and the evidence she had already collected. Photos, “destroyed” medical records, and recent missing shipments from cargo ships including one micro-wave machine meant for warfare. She made copies of everything and hid them away in a special box directed to the only person she really trusted in her department, Sgt. Gordon. Even if someone dumped the notes on her desk, Sgt. Gordon would find the box of evidence, she knew. Falcone had been transferred the day before and was nearing his second night in the institution, now was her time to investigate what he was planning to do to him and why.

She stashed a small knife at her thigh, having learned that a woman had to carry multiple weapons in this city if she wanted to protect herself, which unfortunately, happened often. She checked her weapon and put it in her holster at the small of her back. She was wearing a gray quarter length top tucked into a black skirt. She pulled on her straight black leather coat and closed the door to her office, locking the door. She knew that Crane would be in his office, he almost never went home, and with Falcone there and at risk to disclose sensitive information, he would be sure to stay close by.

The sun had already set hours before when she approached Arkham Asylum. Each window was bright with light but it didn’t make the building any more welcoming. She shivered as she approached the side door, seeing a different security guard at the door. He stood when she approached, not recognizing her.

“Stand down, officer. I’m detective — on police business,” she showed him her badge.

“You’ll have to check in at the front, detective.” The officer sat back down with a nod.

“My business here is strictly confidential; Dr. Crane said I could enter in this way.” She pointed at the side door and the officer looked nervously at her. He reached for his walkie-talkie.

“I’m here about Falcone. I am the detective assigned to his case, he was transferred here two days ago. I’m supposed to meet with Dr. Crane about some of the things Falcone has said during his initial treatment. Because of the sensitivity of Falcone’s case in the department, as I’m sure you know, the department has asked that we keep this confidential. No one inside can know that I was here to meet about Falcone. We haven’t told the public yet that he’s been transferred here. Your compliance is necessary for this.” She lied out of her ass but the officer nodded slowly when she finished, his eyes widening at the mention of Falcone’s name.

“Oh, of course. I’m sorry for delaying you. It’s just business.”

“I understand completely, thank you officer.” She smiled kindly as the officer scanned her in. Once she was inside she hid her police badge and followed the path she had scouted days before, following the black arrows to the psychiatrist ward (again, funny that they had their own ward- almost as if they were patients themselves). Her black mary janes squeaked quietly as she finally turned onto the hallway where Dr. Crane’s office was located. A row of fluorescent bulbs flickered ominously and she rolled her eyes, silently cursing the asylum for its additional eeriness. His lab was empty and dark and his office was empty though the lights were still on. An assistant passed her, coming from a different lab with a pile of boxes in her arms.

“Excuse me, do you know where Dr. Crane is right now?” She asked the assistant who shuffled the boxes in her arms to answer.

“I saw him in the ward with the new transfer patients just before I picked these up, so he’s probably about to start a sit-down with a patient. Do you have an appointment with him?” She asked curiously, knowing it was too late for a business meeting.

“No, I work in the office and I was going to request a few files to finish a transfer of a patient but it seems that he’s busy. I’ll try tomorrow morning. Thank you!” She smiled and the assistant nodded.

“Have a nice night,” the assistant hurried off down the corridor into the hub. She wasted no time in checking the door to Crane’s office which was miraculously unlocked. She hurried inside and closed the door, making sure that she left everything as she had found it. The door to the lab was located inside Crane’s office, so she entered the lab through the office. The blinds were closed to the outside so she opened the flashlight on her phone and scanned the dark lab tables for the powders she had seen before. The room smelled heavily of chemicals and cleaning solution and it was hard to breathe normally already because she was nervous. The first table was empty of anything but the second was set up for what looked to be his next round of testing. A box that looked like a closed mouse trap was set up on the table. There was a single switch on the top of the box which she knew better than to turn but she examined it nonetheless, hoping to see what it may contain. A tray of petri dishes full of powder sat beside it. Each was marked with a different series of numbers and letters, denoting their different status, she assumed. She recognized the series on one of the dishes: F7jw009. The number had appeared on the list of drugs recovered from Falcone’s drug transport. It was one that hadn’t yet been tested to see what it was composed of. She didn’t recognize the two other dishes but she assumed the powder and the mousetrap device were used for the same thing.

There was a small bookcase attached to the base of the lab table and she crouched, scanning the spines. The books on the top, free of dust, were on phobias. A bound scientific paper on the chemical structure of fear sat on top of the textbooks. She picked it up and flipped through the pages, noticing strokes of pen and notes on many of the pages. In the centerfold of the paper, she saw a picture of a cartoon scarecrow, one from a halloween decoration. It looked like it had been ripped from a kid’s storybook. She stared at the picture, struggling to place where she had heard about a scarecrow before in the precinct… she flipped farther through the pages and landed on a second photo shoved between the pages. It was a drawing of a mask made of burlap. The mask resembled a scarecrow’s face, she furrowed her eyebrows, more uneasy. Finally, she flipped to the very end where she found a clear note detailing what Crane thought the synopsis of the paper had been:

Fear can be constructed using a series of complex compounds and put into an admissible form. They have already invented serums that temporarily remove the presence of fear by blocking certain receptors in the brain that receive signals of distress or pain. By doing the very opposite, temporarily numbing the receptors that calm the nervous system when danger has been averted, fight or flight is heightened and the human mind is more susceptible to the suggestion of danger and terror. Fear merely needs to be suggested to elicit a response after the brain is prepped for the reaction. Fear can be weaponized. Building the compounds of fear into a powder, the drug can be administered immediately into the air and receive a simultaneous reaction. Pills? Water? How can we distribute this powder? What is the easiest way to administer fear to the entire population?

iii

The distinct click of a door opening and closing shocked her back to attention. She put the bound paper back onto the shelf and switched off the light on her phone. In the dark she scrambled into a hidden alcove inside the lab behind one of the hooded chemical boxes. She was pretty sure that the lab’s closet would be shared with the lab next door but she couldn’t remember which side of the room it was on. Dr. Crane had gone into his office and removed his suit jacket. He was too excited by Falcone’s reaction to his fear serum in powder form and he needed to get a handle on himself. It was nearly midnight when he checked his watch. Most of his colleagues would be gone by now, just the night staff remained to look after the patients. Night was the perfect time to work undisturbed in his lab, especially because his assistant couldn’t know the full extent of his research into the chemical compounds of human fear. He slipped his coat over the back of his desk chair and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows.

He exhaled slowly and removed a stack of papers from his desk, flipping through them as he opened the door into his lab and kicked the door closed with the heel of his shoe. His elbow flicked on the lightswitch and he spread out the papers on the first lab table, seemingly absorbed by the chemical structures his assistant had prepared for him to review. He scribbled a note in red pen on the corner of the document, berating his assistant for his obvious mistake with one of the compound structures. What was this? High school chemistry class? He licked his thumb and turned the page, writing another note in the margin.

“I know you’re here, Miss —.” He smiled, not looking up from his notes. He tossed the first set of pages further down the table and moved to the next one. “You and your perfume… I can always tell where you’ve been by your scent. I don’t think you’re naive enough to wear perfume in your field, especially when on your little jaunts into other people’s business. So, the lovely smell is from your shampoo, I venture. You use an expensive brand of shampoo because you think that your hair is your best attribute, and I agree, it's one of the best. Your job makes you feel dirty too, doesn’t it? This city makes you feel dirty and so you wash your hair every night with the same sulfate-free shampoo to get the smell of our city out of your system. Your shampoo smells like mint and you like it the best because it makes your head feel cleaner, tingly,” he laughed and moved to the next stack of stapled papers. “And that’s why you chose this job, a detective, because you feel like you’re cleaning up our streets; removing all of the bad blood of Gotham but it’s been a disappointment to say the least. The system is backwards, though you knew that from the beginning, you thought you could fix it. You want things to be right and I don’t blame you, so do I.”

Dr. Crane finished writing a note on the last paper and capped the pen. He circled the table once before moving to the second table.

“I’m cleaning the city in my own way, I guess you could say. This city needs a restart button, a way to begin everything again and start fresh. Fear can do that, fear can be controlled and it controls.”

She could barely breathe, her back was pressed against the wall of his lab. She was scared and she knew that he knew. Fear was his thing, his kink and she anticipated the absolute worst as she waited out her fate, wondering how long it would take for him to find her or if she could manage to escape.

“This machine can diffuse the compounded form of fear. I’ve used it on most of your suspects, all of them Faclone’s men. I even used it on Falcone himself. Oh, I wish you could have seen his face! The second the powder entered his system he abandoned the arrogant criminal persona, he reverted back to who he was at his very core. He was suddenly controllable and easy to manage. So you see how this could be used to clean up Gotham. It’s a way to seize back control of our city, take it away from the people who run it now; the sycophants and billionaires.”

Crane pulled a needle from the drawer at his hip and flicked the glass tube. Her chest rose and fell in a state of panic. Dr. Crane leaned against the counter calmly.

“That’s why you like me. I’m clean. I’m orderly and smart. I’m the opposite of the criminal justice system that reminds you of this dirty city. And, Y/N, that’s why I like you.”

She tensed at his use of her first name. She’d never heard him use it before and it sent a chill down her spine. She reached for her gun. Dr. Crane rounded the corner and stabbed the needle into her neck, pushing the tranquilizer into her bloodstream. She wobbled before slumping back against the wall. She managed to push past him and run for the office door but the drugs worked almost immediately and her legs began to go numb. She couldn’t feel anything below her waist and she worried that he would break her legs running without being able to feel which bones she was using to get away. She collapsed on the floor of the lab and looked up at Dr. Crane who smiled down at her, his hair disheveled.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he cooed and crouched at her feet, “I applaud you for your efforts. You may have succeeded had I not recognized the smell of your shampoo. I know you’ve been here before. You’re a smart girl but I won this game, and the victor gets the spoils. That’s how it works, Miss —.” He crawled over her and pulled the needle from her neck. She didn’t even feel it. Her hair that he loved so much was fanned out on the floor, falling in loose curls. He twirled a curl between his fingers and nodded approvingly.

“Don’t worry, I’ll treat you with the utmost respect. Afterall, you are my colleague, of sorts,” he shrugged and stood up, straddling her. “It’s a pity that you became a detective. You would have done well in this bloodthirsty field because,” he disappeared for a moment and returned with a set of keys which he slipped into his front pocket, “you’re like me.”

He pulled her up and put one of her arms around his shoulder, supporting the brunt of her weight that way. Though he was small and lanky, he was muscular and strong. He dragged her through the door in his lab that connected to a separate room that she hadn’t even noticed. He flipped the light switch with his elbow and sighed with pleasure when the room was lit up with light.

“Here it is. This is where the real fun happens, Y/N. This is where I test my new treatments on our most psychotic patients. Falcone will be here soon, perhaps tomorrow once you and I finish our discussion.” The room was smaller than the lab and housed what looked like a mortuary slab. She tried to scream but her mouth was numb. He dragged her to the table and lifted her onto the flat surface. The numerous straps he buckled around her waist, her wrists, and her feet. When she was secured onto his table, he pushed a peddle at his foot which titled the table forward, propping her more upright.

“Ah, and now I can finally see you,” Dr. Crane smiled and moved her hair so that it was caught behind her back. He straightened her hair against her chest, running his fingers through the strands. He moved a stool in front of the table and sat on it, his legs spread and his arms across against his chest. “Do I make you nervous now, detective?” He smirked and chuckled darkly when she couldn’t respond. “It will wear off soon. It’s one of those doses that act quickly but then wear off just as quickly. I wouldn’t do anything to you while you were in this state. What kind of man would I be if I did that?”

He watched her for a few minutes, his bright blue eyes trailing up and down her body. She knew what that look meant from men. Her gun was so close and yet she knew she wouldn't be able to reach it even when she regained control over her body. While he waited, he arranged numerous tools and vials around the room, humming softly to himself. She could feel herself starting to get feeling back in her stomach as the blood recirculated from her heart. Her hands and her feet took the longest to twitch awake. She dropped her head from left to right, groaning in the absence of words. Dr. Crane came back and checked her pulse, pinching her wrist and counting the seconds on his watch.

“Good girl, you’re coming back. Can you speak yet?” He supported her chin with his hand and when she didn’t answer he nodded. “That’s all right. You’re all right.” He soothed her and she couldn’t help but relax as his eyes checked over her. “Now, Miss —, where are your weapons?” He posed the question theoretically and touched her, she flinched beneath his hands. He felt around her waist and inside her jacket. “There aren’t many places to hide it.” He whispered and wrapped his hands around her waist, finding the gun at the small of her back. “Ah, here it is.” He smiled as he took the gun from its holster and tossed it onto a small lab table. “You have something else, don’t you. You’re smart so of course, you have a second weapon.” He licked his lips, thinking but it didn’t take him long to trail his hands up her thighs, glancing up into her eyes as he did. Her skirt rose as he felt below it and soon, his fingers were on top of the knife’s handle.

“What do we have here?” He lifted her skirt, showing the knife’s hiding place at the top of her thigh. “This is honestly almost funny so forgive me if I laugh.” He ripped the knife from the holster and she cried out as much as she could, terrified by his quick movement. He let her skirt fall back into place and twirled the knife in his hand, examining the small blade. “You’ve just made my night so much more interesting, Miss —.” He smirked darkly.

She finally regained her ability to speak though her words were jumbled and hard to get out around her tongue.

“Use your words, honey.” Dr. Crane frowned frustratedly.

“Please…” she managed, “don’t… hurt… me.” She pushed the words out and he listened carefully.

“Oh but it’s so hard to resist when you so willingly came here and with your own weapons. Can you see how this might be hard for me?” He furrowed his brow as he spoke and she couldn’t tell what was sarcasm and what was real.

“It was nothing personal… I had a job to do.” She whispered weakly and he cocked his head, his lips parted.

“You know it's funny because Falcone’s men all said the same thing. I know you didn’t work with them… but I can make it look like you did.” He whispered close to her face and her chest clenched with fear. “I can do whatever I want, do you understand? I have the power to say that you checked yourself in and I evaluated you. I found you on the verge of a psychotic breakdown because we all know you were already prone to hysterics. But your office shouldn’t worry because I’ll be your psychiatrist. And so what if you happen to disappear- go missing? No one comes in here, except for you, and that was stupid.”

“You might die tonight, detective. I’m sorry to say it because you are one of the most attractive women I have met in Gotham and I fear that you have ruined our chances of continuing this to a second date.” He studied the curvature of her clavicle as it dipped above her sternum. Not knowing what else to do, she kissed him. Dr. Crane stiffened as her lips met his. He pulled away, stopping short a few inches from her mouth.

“What are you doing?” He raised his eyebrow.

“If I’m going to die, I might as well make the most of it,” she shrugged and kissed him again, her head leaning as far forward as she could reach. She hoped that she sounded truthful enough. He pulled away again and stared at her, his forehead creased as he watched her. She panted softly, straining against her restraints. Her cheeks were flushed and her chest had broken out into hives from the stress. Fear made her even more beautiful. Going against his better judgment, he leaned forward into her and kissed her hesitantly. Slowly, he began to kiss her more aggressively, his tongue dragging against the roof of her mouth before he captured her top lip in a deep kiss. Her hands instinctively went to reach for his hair but they snapped back against the table. He broke away, panting, and took a few steps back, resting his back against the wall.

“I don’t trust you,” he put his hands on his hips, still holding the knife.

“What can I do, Jonathan?” She tried using his first name and he raised an eyebrow again, “I can’t move, no one can hear me scream, you’re going to kill me… what reason is there left to trust me? So, either kiss me or go ahead and kill me.” She nearly cried, overwhelmed and terrified. Her plan had been to seduce him, to use most men’s fatal flaw against him, but she worried that it wouldn’t work with Dr. Jonathan Crane. In a way, she had planned for this. The evidence was back in her office waiting to be discovered. She hadn’t gotten a chance to take pictures of the lab but maybe depending on how far he went with this, she could get away. But God, even though she was terrified and held on a slab against her will, he was beautiful. He was looking at her with his aquamarine eyes, his black hair gelled and falling around his face. Even his glasses looked perfect on his face.

“Jonathan…” she started with a shakily voice, “despite why I came today and what you’ve told me about what you want to do to Gotham, right now, more than anything, I want you to come here and kiss me because while I may hate you and you may be the cause of my death, I want you. Give me some comfort if you’re going to take everything away from me.”

“Freud would have some things to say about you, Y/N.” He pushed his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose and studied the edge of the knife. “Your psychology is so interesting,” he flicked his eyes up to her’s and set the knife down on the table. “To study you…” he trailed off as he loosened his tie and ripped it from his neck. He approached her, standing far enough away that she couldn’t reach him with her mouth. She exhaled, waiting. “I almost studied anatomy,” he pushed a hand against her navel, holding her even more in place.

“Why didn’t you?” She whispered.

“I loved the human mind too much to abandon it,” he smiled and drew a hand up her thigh. Her muscles spasmed beneath his hand. He leaned in against her ear, “I know you’re scared of me,” he whispered calmly, “and isn’t that incredible? That you can be so afraid of something that you want so much?” His hand pulled down her underwear and it stretched between her open thighs, held apart by the restraints. His hand went further still, gently tracing the folds of her labia. She knew that she was wet and it embarrassed her, though she knew it helped confirm her story that she wanted him, he didn’t seem to care either way. His thumb rubbed her clit as he slowly inserted his middle finger into her, pushing past the initial resistance. She always hated fingering because it didn’t feel like how people pretended it did. That being said, she sighed as he gently inserted a second finger and pulled against the top of her cunt, fingering her slowly.

“The body holds fear because our bodies hold memories,” he explained as he pressed her clit harder. “I can find what really scares you and I can fix it.”

“I’m scared of you,” she whispered, her breath escaping in a sharp pant.

“I can fix that.”

He pulled his fingers out of her and held her neck still against the table as he kissed her. The sense of urgency to fight and escape melted into an afterthought when the back of his hand slid slowly down one side of her neck, making the tendons flex. He held her neck still as he kissed down to her collarbones, licking their shelves and tracing the bone with his tongue. His free hand groped her breast over her tight shirt and then surrounded her waist. She started shifting her hips back and forth, wishing that she had something between them to relieve the pressure she felt. He smiled against her skin and clicked his tongue, pulling away from her. He pressed the pedal again with his foot and the table reclined once again as it had been. He climbed onto the table and sat above her on his knees, looking down at her as she panted.

“Look at me,” he told her and made sure that her eyes met his. “I have no plans to kill you tonight and I know this act is solely for the benefit of your own survival. But knowing that I will not kill you, would you like to change your mind?” He put both hands around her waist, showing the pale flesh of his forearms. She tried to weigh her options, she tried to think clearly but it all felt like a dream. It didn’t feel real enough to have consequences, so she shook her head and licked her lips quickly.

“No, keep going.” She whispered, “please.” Dr. Crane chuckled lightly and trailed his fingers down to her ankles.

“In that case, would you like to see my mask?” He smiled darkly, teasing her.

“No, I want to see your face.” She answered calmly and he nodded.

“Fine.” He removed the restraints around her ankles. He took the knife from the table and cut away her underwear with one strong swipe of the blade. She gasped and he smirked, “I’m a doctor, remember? I know how to use a knife, detective.”

He put the knife aside and pulled her knees up, sitting between them. He unbuckled his pants and withdrew his erection, glistening with precum. He guided himself into her with his hand, his eyes never leaving her face. She gasped again as he entered her. He rocked his hips slowly back and forth and groaned, watching her mouth open in a silent moan. She raised her knees higher, closer to her chest, giving him a better angle at which to fuck her. His hands pressed against her stomach and his thrusts became faster as his body began to learn hers.

“You’re getting wetter,” he observed with a sly smile, “I must be doing something right.” He teased her as he started to rub her clit with his thumb, the rest of his hand pressed against her uterus. She couldn’t even speak. It had been months since she’d last had sex and even then, it wasn’t good sex. “I’m going to go harder but you can take it,” he told her matter of factly and placed either hand by her hips on the table. Leaning forward he shifted his hips slowly but harder, going deeper without much care for how her body adapted to the thrusts. “There you go,” he grunted as his hips bucked rhythmically into hers. She cried out, her body sliding up and down against the table, hot with her perspiration. Holding onto the top of the table, he moved farther up, pushing more inside of her, and started thrusting fast. He was suddenly in so deep and only backing away a few inches before snapping back in. Her hips bounced off of his and she gripped the excess material around her wrists to help her stay stationary.

“Slow… God, please! Slow down… its so much, fuck.” She whimpered and smiled down at her face, flushed and angry with red. He slowed his hips, squeezing his glutes together whenever he thrusted inside. He leaned down and kissed her slowly, still rocking in and out of her. Her body shuttered from the high and started to build a more even climax. She hummed against his lips, her voicing getting higher as she started to orgasm.

“And here comes the orgasm,” Jonathan smiled and sped up slightly, leaving hickies up and down her neck. She orgasmed with a shuttering cry that she couldn’t cover with her hand, but he didn’t let her finish there. “Fuck, you got so tight again.” He groaned as she panted, her system overwhelmed with waves of pleasure and exertion. She started to tighten further around him as her thighs squeezed his hips. Her breath left her lungs in short pants and she moaned beneath him like a pitiful creature. “Are you cumming again?” He laughed and stroked her cheek. She nodded weakly and he kissed her again briefly.

“Its so tight, fuck. I won’t last much longer like this.” He took her hips in his hands and started a steady rhythm, pulling her hips onto his cock and thrusting at the same time. She came around him and he groaned animalistically, his thrusts becoming more sporadic and needy. He watched her breasts bounce inside her shirt and how he slid in and out of her, her cum collecting at the base of his shaft. Finishing with fast, desperate movements, he moaned loudly. She felt him finish inside her and it felt almost better than if she had finished herself. He pulled down her bottom lip with his thumb and admired her fucked-out face. Her pupils were shot and she shook slightly from the high. Finally, he pulled out and stuffed himself back into his pants. He sighed as he straightened his clothes and ran a hand through his hair. He took the gun and the knife and stuffed them both into a drawer and locked it with a set of keys from his pocket. They stared at each other for a while until Jonathan broke the silence, clearing his throat.

“You’re coming home with me tonight, Miss —. We’ll decide what to do with you later.”

#cillian x fem!reader #cillian murphy #cillian murphy x reader #fanfiction #cillian fanfic #smut #peaky blinders #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane fanfic #hot scarecrow #young cillian murphy #dc scarecrow #jonathan crane

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writefightandflightclub · 10 months

Text

Blorbo thought of the day #5

Repetition: (Marc Spector x reader)

A/n: a little fluffy blurb 🥰 Starts with angst but Marc provides comfort and it’s lovely because he is lovely.

Warnings: (Reader has some abandonment / self-esteem issues, canon typical allusions to Marc’s past, implied off-camera sexy times, food mentions) Not proofed!

GIF by @anhandfulgirl18

“You a’right?” Marc asks you in his gruff morning voice as your sigh billows dolefully against the bare expanse of his chest. The room is golden hued with sunlight, bright and easy, and your mood as you wake certainly does not match it.

“Bad dream,” you explain curtly, deepening the niggle in your brow. “Just thinking.”

Marc crushes his chin to his chest in an attempt to get a better look at you. Smooths a warm, broad hand down your bare back, the gnarled patterned sheets pushed down around your middles. “What dream? What are you thinking?”

You stiffen, snapping out of your gloomy mood a little as you realise that you’ve been awake for a mere 30 seconds, and yet you have already managed to make his voice sound like that. Despondent. Taut with concern.

Your head still resting on his chest, his heartbeat thudding steadily beneath the shell of your ear, you let your fingers dance lightly over his pec, trailing in slow, repeating circles, round and round. “It’s just….” The words feel too big to come out, like there’s a traffic jam in your throat when you try to say it out loud.

It’s stupid. You know it is.

“What?” Marc encourages, whisper soft, his voice and his hands as gentle as the slip of fresh golden sun into the room.

You push yourself up. Lie on your front next to him, propping your chin on your fisting hands. Despite the tension roping through you, looking at Marc instantly makes you smile, even if the gesture itself is a subdued, somber sort of thing.

You reach up and ruffle his thick, dark strands with the rake of your fingers, fondly combing the tendrils back from his forehead, and he hums for you, low and soft.

God. This man. He always looks especially beautiful on a morning. The mussed, chaotic curls. The shadow of stubble darkening his jaw. The way he fans his long lashes, attempting to blink away the bright morning, always a complete snuggle fiend and wanting to lay in the dark with you just a little longer. The glisten of his Magen David pooled in the hollow of his throat, bobbing there as he swallows. His skin bare and warm and his natural scent not yet polluted by his morning shower.

You don’t think you could ever tire of this sight.

“It’s nothing. Not really. It’s just… Every now and again I get this… horrible gnawing feeling. Like one day you’ll… I dunno. Get bored of me?”

That wakes him up, and for the second time this morning you feel guilt writhe your belly. Marc, meanwhile, looks at you with a pure concern. Gaze flitting over you. Examining you as though you’ve been severely wounded - and he’s only now seeing it. “What do you mean?” He moves, the surprise animating him, and he shifts his elbows backwards to prop his torso up. His necklace elongates, settling into place in the valley of his shapely chest, and his mop of curls flopping once again over his forehead. “Honey. How could I ever?”

You play with a little bit of lint on the bed covers, suddenly intent on it. Retreating away from Marc’s intense, searching stare. “You know. You could. Maybe. From the repetition of it.” Your voice cracks like sun-baked earth - as though the golden morning has already dried you out. “You could get bored. Waking-up next to me every day? Hearing me talk about the same stuff all the time? Fucking me, over and over.”

At that comment, Marc’s brows knit and raise in the middle. His tongue fleets along his lower lip, his mouth turning down at the corners. God, those puppy dog eyes of his never get old.

“But you know I love fucking you over and over, shortcake.”

You shake your head softly. Self-conscious around him, and you have no idea why. “Marc.”

With the wet way you say his name, Marc turns immediately on to his side, still propped up on one elbow, his muscles popping as they bear his weight. And, his freed arm just as immediately is reaching for you. Fingers trailing down your back. You look at him and he looks pained. “Did I… Did I do something to make you think that-“

“-No.” Shit. You shouldn’t have said anything about it. Marc gets so in his head about these things. Always blames himself, as though, if you’re insecure, it means that he isn’t doing a good enough job of loving you. In fact, that could not be further from the truth. “No, Marc. I promise. It’s…” You sigh out a long breath. “It’s just how I feel sometimes. Like eventually, you’ll realise you want someone else. I mean, if I were you, I’d get tired of me too, you know? Sometimes it just feels… inevitable.” Your final word is so heavy that is weighs the tears that pool in your eyes, and yet, even through the blur, you risk a glance up at Marc again.

His palm comes to cradle your cheek. His eyes shine steadily on you. Even glint with an unexpected amusement, despite the situation, which you don’t yet comprehend.

“Baby. Do you never think about who you’re talking to, huh?”

“What do you mean?”

“Think about it. I love repetition. Same thing, over and over? Fucking heaven.”

Your insecurities press you to dispute his statement, and your mouth even drops open to counter him; but, actually, when you think about it…

Marc?

This guy?

The guy who eats the same thing everyday for breakfast, except on Saturdays? Who does all of his tasks in the same way, in the same order, every time? Who watches the same three movies on repeat any time he gets a chance? Who buys four of the same shirt so he rarely has to change it up?

“Yeah. Okay,” you concede. “But, why though?Because it’s… easy? Convenient?” That’s not what you want to be for him.

Marc caresses your cheek with his palm again, gaze flitting fondly over your face. He frowns, like he’s never really thought about the why before. Because it had never really occurred to him to think about it. “No. Not exactly. I guess because… It makes me feel… safe.”

“Safe?”

Safe. Is that what you are to him?

“Yeah. Safe like…”

Not like home. Not like the place that never was; safe.

Safe, like the jumper you knitted him, maybe. Safe, like repeating stitch after repeating stitch wrapped around him, keeping him warm.

Repetition as comfort. Routine as the home he never had, built for himself, block by block.

Like that, maybe? Or, like something else?

You swallow harshly. “Safe like… boring?”

“No,” Marc says calmly, still thinking. “No, baby.”

Then, he moves. Crawls on top of you until his nude body is covering yours, boxing you in all safe.

You see the effort plainly in his face. See from the weight in his brow that he’s painstakingly searching for the right words. That he’s reaching for a way to make you get it. Searching for something which he knows for certain you’ll truly understand. “Safe like…” A lightness settles over Marc’s face as he lands on the very thing. Something you can both understand. No chance of misinterpretation. “Safe like… how Steven makes you feel, you know?” Then, he cocks his head to the side, a slow drag of a smile inching, lopsided, over his plush mouth. “Except, in a less brotherly way. Obviously.”

You can’t help it. You tear up. You know what Steven means to Marc. That Steven represented the first time Marc had felt loved. Protected. That Steven made you feel that same way too. “I really make you feel like that?”

Marc’s eyes glow softly with a smile, crinkles appearing around his eyes, since he’s finally beginning to make you understand. “Yeah. Now you’re getting it. And hey. You’d never get sick of that, would you?”

You wouldn’t. “Never.”

“Good.” He presses a kiss to your lips. Buries his face in your neck, lips sliding tenderly down the column of your throat. Holding you tightly, his body covering you. He kisses along your collarbone, his tongue laving there. “I’ll never be bored of you.”

“Promise?”

Marc props himself up on his forearms, boxing you in either side of your head and nuzzling the tip of his nose against yours. “In a thousand lifetimes? I’d love you over and over and over and over.”

Finally, you submit a watery smile to him, releasing your sadness and your fears and your tension. Wrapping your arms around him and pulling his mouth down to yours for a deep, tender, loving kiss.

“Well,” you suspire when you break for air. “Then I suppose I like repetition too.”

“Oh yeah?”

You kiss the tip of his nose and his face crinkles with a delicious smile. “Yeah. Because I wanna wake up beside you every single day, Marc Spector.” He smiles in awe at you, eyes glistening with unadulterated adoration and you kiss along his jawline. “And sometimes Steven or Jake too,” you add as an aside. “That I’ll allow.” Marc’s face splits into a beaming smile. “Now, kisses for you all.” You grasp his face in your splayed hands and plant three kisses in turn. One on the cheek, one to the centre of his forehead, and one on his lips, which is all for him.

Marc’s eyes flutter closed as your kiss puckers against him. “Now, get off me, will you?” you tease fondly. “I’ll get us some breakfast. I’m gonna need you fuelled-up.”

“What for?”

“For all of the repetitive fucking we’re about to do.”

Marc flips obediently on to his back, folding his arms behind his head and baring himself entirely to you as you sway -naked- towards the kitchen. “Oh, is that right?”

“Mmm hmm.”

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, shortcake.”

You are. You’re feeling much better thanks to Marc and the way in which he loves you - which, you’re discovering, never gets old.

“What are we having?” he asks as you begin to raid the cabinets.

“The usual.” you glance towards him, a smirk on your mouth. “I mean. If that’s okay with you.”

He smiles softly at you in return. “The usual sounds perfect.”

It’s funny.

Marc always did love a little repetition.

#marc spector x reader #marc spector #moon knight x reader #moon knight

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