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running-with-kn1ves · 20 days

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Faeries and Giants

A/N: Thanks that one anon for this idea! took my own spin on it >:DD

Content Warning: Held hostage by a giant, mentioned consumption of humanoid creatures, kidnapping

Synopsis: Life isn’t all great being a faerie in a world of giants, elves and dwarves-- of which, some are keen on plucking you from the forest floor like a berry and keeping you to themselves.

“So… delicate,” plump fingers outlined the crisp glass of your wings, their luminescence almost blinding to the giant. Your teensy, human-like frailty was some sort of evolutionary mistake-- how could you survive in these woods for so many decades, for centuries? You and your kind were mini parasites-- although delicious, and cute to play with, ultimately not meant to survive in this world where big bad wolves and giants ten times your size could pick you up like an acorn and snap you like a tall blade of grass.

“Get your dirty paws-- OFF!” You kicked and bit with feral haste, clothes of leaf and twine breaking each time the giant poked and prodded at your pudgy, elongated features. One wrong tug and your arm or leg could come twisting off, your wings tarnished and ripped to fragments if he so pleased.

“Settle down now, little one,” He let out a roar of a laugh, shaking down through his palms to his feet, making the earth beneath him crumble. “You’ll get hurt worming around so much!”

You shrieked at the gentle touch against your bare sole, the giant playing with your toes and fingers as he stretches and bends your limbs.

“Please--urk, put me down! I’m not meant to be this high, I, I need to get back to the ground-- let me go!”

“Ah, but aren’t you meant for the skies, little beast? What else are these… appendages for. Mere sparkly decoration?”

He runs a finger down the middle of your back, touching the sinewy fiber connecting translucent wings to your spine. You shivered, physically jolting at the uncomfortable, warmly touch.

Your wings were drenched-- wrinkled and sopping from the “quick dip” the giant holding you thought would be a good idea before scooping you up like a pretty pebble. His previous…encounters with your kind must’ve prepared him well for the fluttery agility your poor wings could provide.

“Hm, do you like that?” The giant groans in heightened interest, resting his cheek in his hand as he holds you in the other. “The fairies I’ve met are far less dainty, withholding far more… animosity. Of course, they had been well-versed in magic and spells moreso than you seem to be. Far more appetizing, too. But you… you almost look like a stout sapling, useless in all endeavors besides your adorable little figure!”

….Appetizing?

Looking to the Giant’s pocket, you can see them there….Wings, some crumped to shards, others merely bent, stuffed in his trousers with shimmering pinks and golds and blues-- cleanly picked off of whatever faerie they belonged to.

“You… they’ve been disappearing, because of you! Collecting their poor wings…You’re a monster! My friends, eaten and killed--!”

The giant brought you to his eyes for closer inspection, pools of lake green beneath his moppy silvering and unkempt hair. He observed the river of tears falling from your face, your nose dripping and stuffy as you beat against his hand.

“Why yes! We seem to agree on something; I am a monster of the forest-- as are you, and your thieving little fellow faeries. Stealing from my livestock, shoveling everything they can find into their mouths, attempting to poison and spitroast and maim me--” He brushes a tan knuckle against your cheek, smooshing it in an attempt to wipe away your tears. “And so I eat them-- which ever ones manage to cross me, choosing to arise my wrath. It’s the circle of life, my little winged beast.”

He chuckles at the nickname, gazing at you slumped over on the creases of his palm, calloused from a life of barreling trees and tending to his oversized farm on the outskirts of your fae hamlet.

You were too high to jump from his palm at this height, even with his fingers no longer tightly wound around you. If you tried to fly now-- you’d be as good as dead.

“S..so, what’re you gonna do, with me?”

You wipe away your tears, trying to see the giant clearly this time; maybe you could pinpoint a weak area of his, something to make him drop you-- it’d be better than spending eternity in his palm, or his stomach.

“So precious… What do you think? Should I eat you?” He grins, a large straw of wheat hanging from betwixt his lips.

You shake your head rapidly, attempting to reach for the dagger in your leather boot.

“No, no. Of course not, I can’t rid myself of such a cute fae like you, even if I despise the rest of your species--” He delicately takes his thumb and pointer finger to your cheeks, squeezing them to puff out your lips. “I enjoy your itsy-bitsy presence too much… perhaps I’ll keep you where the birds used to lay; the cage is quite spacious, right in the kitchen. I’ll make a soft bed of chicken feathers for you, a table just big enough to do your faerie crafts and harmless little spells on.” The giant smiles softly, touching the bare of your collar uncovered by leaf and leather cloth. “I’ll bring trinkets from the valley for you to do with as you please, cook hearty meals for us to share, even let you out to be coddled and touched every now and again-- how does that sound?”

You were quick to shake your head, tempted to stab at his palm with your dagger, but an irked expression ran across the giant’s lips as his gaze fell to the grassy plain beneath him.

“Your friend here however, will not be staying.” He holds you tightly again-- squeezing enough to keep you in the dark of his palm. It was warm and of an earthy smell, almost too tight for your cold body. You're abruptly tucked into the giants shirt pocket, a finger over your mouth and eyes that forced you into muted darkness.

Even with your fabricated blindness, you could here the breathy grunts of a familiar voice-- unmistakably from a woodland elf, the glass-shattering vocal chords of a creature who could burst ear drums if he so desired. You didn’t know for sure, but you had a reasonable guess of which elf in particular who seemed to be fighting a mountain of a giant in your honor. An unforgettable, certainly imbecilic ignoramus elf who tailed you everywhere you went in hopes that, this time you would accept his smitten betrothal request.

You swam against fabric tugging you downward to reach the shirt pocket’s opening, wincing as the giant holding you captive yelped out.

“Gah! he stabbed me, the little fucking imp!”

It's the first you've heard him curse with such venom, mouth curling into a snarl as he bends to pick up the wooden sword-swinging elf at his boot.

The elf screamed out your name, trying to cut at the scarred fingers holding him hostage. You reached out to him from beneath your pocket enclosure before the giant flicked you on the head, holding your savior far out by the tips of his fingers.

“Ah look here, your knight in shining armor… hah, too bad, he looks absolutely delectable.”

The giant’s irritation was growing by the second, keeping a hand over you in his pocket as he shakes the elf around furiously.

“No--! please don't eat him, he just-- Let us go, he has nothing to do with this!” You tug against the giant’s button up, watching your elf companion swing around his needle-like sword at the giant holding him up by his collar.

The giant laughed, eyes crinkling as his chiseled chest bumped against your back.

“Don't fret sweet faerie, I’m not so brutal as to consume a creature like this raw; by all means, he’s coming home with us. How long he lasts- that's up to you.”

The giant stood from his crouched position on the grassy knoll, heavy boots digging into the grass to make muddy imprints. He dangled the elf out forward, watching as the poor creature sweat bullets while looking at you helplessly.

“Let my faerie-- go!” The tiny voice felt so far away, different than the usually grating elf’s voice you were accustomed to getting frightened by.

The giant places his fingers into his shirt pocket, nudging you with them in a powerful caress.

“You'll remain my little darling-- while our elf friend here, remains where he belongs-- in the pigpen. Together, we can find a punishment suitable for him.”

You didn’t like the sound of that. With one heavy foot in front of the other, the giant started toward a thatched roof cabin in the grassy distance.

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queenimmadolla · 4 months

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𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥

Summary: Tired of seeing Eddie with other women, you reflect on how much longer you can take it.

Warnings: no mentions of y/n, fem!reader, heavy on the angst, hurt with attempts to comfort, both reader and Eddie are bad at feelings, self-deprecation, Eddie is toxic and doesn’t know why, infidelity (but not technically), no happy ending.

The house is quiet as the front door creaks open, you’re quick to slip inside—chill of the October air nipping at your back. The lights are all off and your arms curl around your exposed midsection. It was colder outside but still chilly in your home, your parents out of town on a romantic anniversary road trip.

You sigh, tossing your keys on the table to run around searching for in the morning, and make your way to your room with a quick detour at the thermostat to turn on the heat. It’s a blind fumble to reach the antique lamp, once you enter your bedroom, but you refuse to use the overhead light. It would cast your room in non-aesthetic lighting, and you’re already annoyed, pissed off and depressed enough.

An irritated breath is huffed from your lips, top lip curling as you recall the very reason for your negative attitude, hands yanking your top right over your head. It’s only when you’re in your pajamas, faced with your own reflection as you prepare to remove the makeup that had been so empowering to put on but you can now feel on your face like an unpleasant mask, that you allow the hot tears of anger and hurt to fall. You almost want to laugh at yourself, mouth curling into a bitter smile as you swipe the ponds cream all over your face. As you massage it in, making sure to focus on your eyes, the smile wavers, corners tugging down as moisture still leaks from your clenched eyelids.

You don’t have to be mean to yourself, you shouldn't. Not when the guy you’re in love with already does such a good job of it.

You purse your lips, trying to hold back sobs as you recall the images of him all over a girl you didn’t know at a party he’d convinced you to go to. You couldn’t even describe her, couldn’t remember what she looked like—all you saw was your Eddie, the guy who drove you to and picked you up from work, took you on cute dates involving picnic baskets, fields, lakes, empty lots to stargaze in, nearly empty movie auditoriums so the two of you could canoodle, your tongues tasting each other as the two lovers on screen professed their undying love.

He even bought you stuffed animals, would pretend to give them life and personalities to go with it, all to amuse you. Did arts and fucking crafts with you.

But anytime you so much as brought up the status of your relationship, he’d wave it off, claiming labels were for Petri dishes, not people.

You were his girl and that’s all that mattered.

It’s what you’d repeated in your head the first time you’d seen him playing with Bianca Anderson’s fingers while the two of them were tucked away in the corner of the hideout, after one of Corroded Coffin’s sets. And again when you’d stumbled out of Rick’s house party to see him laid out on the grass, his head in the lap of a former cheerleader from high school he used to admire, her head bowed to connect their lips and his hands in her hair.

By the time he was tugging at Tina’s hair, playfully shouldering her while they stood in front of the bonfire at another gathering, you’d stopped repeating it in your head. Not even when you watched her lead him to her car.

You lost count of how many times Eddie had made other girls his, too.

And like some pathetic worm with no backbone, you let him. Okay—it’s not like you could physically stop them, though tonight your drink had ended up all over him, maybe that put a little stutter in his plans. But there wouldn’t be a too if you just fucking stopped.

Just . . .stopped.

Stopped taking his calls, stopped answering your door for him, your window, let your co-worker take over the counter the moment he stepped in, stopped looking for his car, stopped thinking about him and that stupid fucking dimple, stopped thinking about how special you felt when he had your naked body pressed against his under the warmth of blankets, his rough fingertips tracing over your sweaty shoulder. How he’d always get so tender, pull you even closer and whisper how much you meant to him while pressing slow kisses to your face. How he never wanted to lose you, wouldn’t know what to do, couldn’t live. It was the sweetest agony.

Most of all, you wish he would stop being there in the morning, all soft breaths and fluttering lashes as he tried to be as close to you as he could, even in a deep slumber. It’s how you know he means it. He means everything he tells you. There is truth to those sweet nothings, declarations, proclamations. You know it.

And that’s why it all hurt so bad, because you know he cares about you as much as he says he does and he still always fucking hurts you, always breaks your heart, but because you know he cares, you’d just let him back in like some fucking clown.

He gets to break you over and over again and you let him because he always puts the pieces back together.

You know what people say about you—everyone knows the two of you are involved and they’d see him out and about with others. Your fumbling answers about what the two of you aren’t just make it clear to them that you’re a doormat and you can’t even deny it. Just avoid their pitiful looks thrown your way.

After washing your face, you take a long hard look at yourself in the mirror; eyes rimmed red, lashes clustering together, face etched in misery. When you can’t stand the person on the other side of the mirror any longer, you flip the light switch and leave the bathroom, pick your favorite tape to listen to, set the volume low and slip into bed.

You’d teetered with the idea of smoking a little, but that would just stave off the heartbreak. Might as well feel it in the moment while you still have the sense of mind before—

Knock, knock, knock.

A humorless chuckle escapes you, muffled into your pillow as your eyes slip shut. Sometimes by the front door, just about always by the window. You think it’s another one of his little relationship doorstops; can’t be serious with you if he uses your window to sneak into your house, it’s much too intimate to walk through your front door.

Of course, he can’t let you have a moment of peace, not even when you’re down. No, he has to fix you now. That’s how the toxic cycle goes. So, dutifully, you play your part, though this time, things have changed.

You toss the blankets off and pad over to your window but you don’t open it right away. Instead, you stare at him. Take him in.

Eddie is in different attire, shirt and jeans swapped out for one of his old club shirts and some sweats. His hair isn’t as voluminous, it’s wet. He’d had to shower to rid himself of your wine cooler. There’s no trace of the Eddie you saw at the party, this one has eyes filled with sorrow and depth, almost like he’s known nothing else. You know better.

Please, he mouths through the glass. You stare a beat longer before the latch is unlocked and he’s hastily pulling it open, clambering in ungracefully.

As you watch him gain his footing, part of you wants to taunt yourself about how you’ve let this man, so below your league and wonderful, ruin your life. He’s hot, sure, but you're hotter. That’s just the truth. You denied it a lot at the beginning of your shitty cherished relationship, felt so insecure to have a man like him paying you attention when he can have everyone. But he was no man. And he still had everyone along with you. Those pitting glances weren’t just because of what you let him put you through, it was because they knew you could do better.

For some reason, the idiot who got his shoe caught on the window sill is the one your heart wants.

God, you hate him.

Rolling your eyes, you go back to your bed, climbing back into your warm blankets. Your back is to him, yet you can still feel his hesitance, see the look on his face, how his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. His stare is intense but it doesn’t unnerve you. Not this time. You feel the bed dip as he climbs in behind you.

There’s still some distance between the two of you, you can tell he’s uncertain. Then, he scuttles forward until he’s pressed to your back, arm slipping around your middle to drag you impossibly closer.

He’s surrounding you, the scent of Eddie’s all-in-one shampoo and body wash filling your nostrils, underlying smell of the joint he’d smoked to calm his nerves before coming over, and the cheap body spray he’d soaked himself in to try and hide it.

“I didn’t fuck her,” he whispers, lips at your ear. “Swear I didn’t. Couldn’t.”

You don’t say anything, just stare at the poster of Roxette pinned to your wall. His arm tightens around you and you can feel his heart hammering against your back.

“I-I couldn’t do that to you,” he continues and you huff, that bitter smile from earlier returning. Eddie goes stiff behind you, but he has nothing to worry about. You won’t kick him out, won't toss him to the curb like you should. You both know you won’t. He knows you should, knows he hurts you and he honest to god doesn’t know why. Couldn’t tell anyone to save his own life.

He just—he just fucks shit up. It’s not self-sabotage because Eddie knows he risks losing you and he doesn’t want to, doesn’t ever want to exist in a world where you don’t want him, don’t want to be with him.

But he still does it anyway. Still goes and kisses girls knowing you’re watching, does worse when you’re not.

The worst part—other than hurting you—is that he doesn’t even want them. Not really. Other than in that moment, Eddie couldn’t give a single shit about them beyond being a Good Samaritan. It’s you he wants all the time.

You’re the only constant thing he needs in his life, wants around him all the time, craves, lusts after, loves, cherishes. For the rest of his life. But Eddie hurts you, and he doesn’t know why.

That’s why he can’t be your boyfriend. Evidently, he’d be a shit one. Not that he’s doing a spectacular job being your…whatever it is he was, whatever the two of you were.

Yes, he always fucks up, but he keeps part of you safe from him by not being your boyfriend. One day, you’ll leave him.

He knows it. It scares the shit out of him and he prays to deities he doesn’t really believe in that it won’t happen, that he’ll get this shit together and make right by you, but he knows you’ll leave him. You genuinely deserve better.

“I wish I didn’t know you,” Eddie tenses once more at your voice, at your statement. It’s said with nonchalance, like you were commenting on the weather. He relaxes, heart clenching in pain as he somehow holds you even tighter.

“I know.”

“I hate that I love you. Wish I would just stop.” You shimmy around until you’re facing him, Eddie’s hold on you loosens to allow it, and when you’re settled, he pulls you close again, your nose nudging along the neckline of his shirt.

“I know.” He whispers out again, vision blurring with unshed tears. He loves you, too. Neither of you ever say it directly, just make references to it.

“I will, though. Maybe not tonight, but I won’t always love you.” It’s said with certainty. You’ll take this treatment for now, but you know you won’t forever. Despite the pathetic place you’d found yourself in tonight, again, you’re making strides. Gone was the loser who would just watch him betray you after spending the entire day making you feel like the two of you were the only ones on earth who mattered. Tonight, you’d stepped in. You were growing more self aware. Soon, you would stop answering the door. Stop answering his calls. Stop loving him.

And you’d look back and cringe, maybe laugh with your friends about how stupid and naive you’d been. You’d move on, too. Meet someone who treats you as good as Eddie does when he isn’t sucking another girl’s face. They won’t kiss or fuck anyone else, they’ll only ever know you from the moment that spark ignites. You might worry from time to time, effects from Eddie, but they’ll gently coax it out of you, build your trust up and one day you won’t worry. All you’ll know is their love.

Yeah, you’d stop loving him.

Eddie makes an indistinguishable sound, you know he’s fighting sniffles. Can hear the emotion in his voice, “I know.”

You nuzzle your face into his chest before your cheek settles there, listening to the fast paced beating coming from within it and you wonder if it’ll happen tomorrow. If you’ll wake up, see Eddie sleeping in your bed, and have your first thought be how much you want him out of it and away from you without a trace of fondness for him. You’ll just wake up and not love him anymore.

You slip a leg between his to tangle your limbs, breathing in his scent as deeply as you can when your eyelids flutter shut.

And while you spend your last moments of consciousness hoping tonight’s the last night you’ll let him hold you, Eddie spends the rest of it wide awake, and hoping. Hoping if he doesn’t fall asleep, he won’t wake up to you telling him you don’t love him. Hoping he’ll miraculously become a better person for you overnight. Hoping he won’t lose you.

Hoping you’ll always be his girl.

divider ℗ cafekitsune ♡

#Eddie munson #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x you #Eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction

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trashogram · 4 months

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He Chose You (P. 4)

Lucifer/Reader - Lucifer picks you to be his baby mama. Rated E

You’re resting against the trunk of a tree at the top of a little hill.

It’s picturesque — the hill is gentle, sloping down to a field of tall yellow-green grass. You can smell it, wafting up with the pollen from golden flowers. The sky above is alive with pinks and oranges bleeding into yellows and whites. A symphony of coos, chirps and pitter-patters of tiny things skittering around have an oddly calming effect as you settle back and allow yourself to exist.

Eyes closed, you hear the sound of something larger than a mouse rounding the tree trunk.

“I got it!” A feminine voice breaks the calm.

You don’t have to look to feel the other person at your side. They lower themselves to the ground, knees brushing against yours when they cross their legs to sit next to you.

You don’t have to look, but you do.

There’s a woman with you now, with hair so long and blonde it’s almost white. Her chin, lips, nose, and eyes are delicate and soft.

She’s not wearing any clothes, and you can see faint scars and wrinkles against the uninterrupted expanse of her skin.

“It’s so pretty, I’ve never seen one so red.” The woman is happy to see you, speaking with all the familiarity of a sister.

She presents an apple to you, taken from behind her back like a surprise.

It is red. Red like an oversized ruby, or a still-beating heart full of blood. All except for the missing chunk made by delicate teeth, yellow-white meat peeking through.

You accept her offering without a word. Even when it’s imperfect, you’re mesmerized by the fruit.

“I took a bite. I’m sorry.” She gazes at you, eyes flinty. “Does that bother you?”

You shake your head vehemently, holding the apple between your hands as if it’s the most precious thing in the world. “No, of course not.”

The woman’s lips quirk up into a satisfied smile, growing bigger when you lift the apple to your mouth and bite into it. The taste is extraordinary — sweet juice bursts against your tongue when the crisp flesh gives under your teeth with barely any resistance.

You savor the first bite out of necessity but soon you’re ravenous. You can’t get enough.

Your companion exhales gently through her nose and looks up at the colorful sky. She seems to relish in the breeze that passes by, making the leaves above you rustle and the tall grass ahead blow back quietly.

The apple is almost gone when she looks back at you, teeth showing as she grins. “Careful there!”

She giggles, reaching out to tap the hand of your hand in warning. It’s all playful, even when you pout and draw back.

“You’ll eat the seeds if you keep that up.” She says. “Something might take root and grow if you do.”

Her words give you pause, but only for the length of four or five heartbeats. The core of the apple is no less refreshing and before you know it, you’re holding the stem.

“Thank you.” You tell her earnestly.

The stem rolls in your palm, until it appears to wiggle and your brow furrows. In the back of your mind, you think you should be more startled to see it moving on its own. But when it grows pink-gray and ringed, and you realize it’s a worm, you simply place the flat of your hand on the ground below and watch it find its way into the dirt.

Sudden warmth against your cheek has you looking back up. The woman is inches from your face. Her eyelashes are dark and long and you could count them if you wanted.

The woman kisses you without a word, hands coming up to cup the back of your head. Surprise does spark up your spine as her tongue darts behind your lips. It’s as if she’s drinking deeply from you before she lets go.

“Forgive me. I wanted another taste.” She giggles again. “It’s even sweeter than I remember.”

Your face burns. You open your mouth, ready to ask the questions burning the tip of your tongue before the thud of footsteps sound from behind you.

She frowns, light leaving her eyes as she glances behind your shoulder. “Oh I was hoping we’d have more time.”

Her eyes cut across to yours. “Wake up before he sees you!”

———

A wave of pure, unadulterated nausea swept over you as soon as you opened your eyes. You laid still for a long moment, trying to reign in the urge to vomit before you deemed it safe enough to observe your surroundings.

A vague sense of confusion surfaced through the malaise when you realized that you were in your living room. There was a carmine blanket tucked around you, and with moderate difficulty you raised your head to see that, yes, a fluffy pillow was resting under your head.

Your reality conflicted with the still-present smell of tall, wet grass and a chill from the summer breeze against your skin.

With ridiculous care, you turned your head back into the pillow and muffled a whine. You couldn’t recall feeling a hangover of this caliber ever before in your life.

‘Wait.’

You weren’t hungover. Well, maybe you were but not from alcohol.

Your neighbors had invited you to dinner, then drugged you.

Already sick, you forced yourself to breathe deeply before shifting on the couch and pulling up the blanket. Despite confirming that your body was still clothed, you found yourself shaking.

It didn’t make sense to you how anyone could do this regardless of their intentions. You could not fathom why two people willing to harm you in one way hadn’t done more than that.

Your relief was short-lived, as dull and diluted as it was, when you twisted to lay back down and came face-to-face with:

A black glove, some aspirin and a glass of water sat on your coffee table.

You blinked rapidly.

There was a small business card in stark contrast to the otherwise colorless ensemble. It was thick stock, white, and flashing fancy golden script:

Lucifer Morningstar

Your stomach dropped as an unnaturally white face with glowing yellow and red eyes flashed in your mind.

The hallucination you’d seen last night — his image faded from your mind and you were left drifting in a blank, black void.

No thoughts.

———

The headache and nausea were considerably lesser when you woke up again.

Looking at the items on your coffee table — ‘glove, aspirin, water still there’ — you looked at each one and for one, strangely hopeful moment you didn’t see a card.

Oh no, it had just fallen on the floor.

———

Lucifer Morningstar

It was an odd business card, with its little red, white and gold designs on the edges. Fireworks, you eventually guessed. The ‘i’ in both first and last name were punctuated with them as well.

As you’d popped the aspirin in your mouth and downed the water, you flipped the card over. You could feel your eyebrows rising to your hairline at the hastily written message on the back:

Proof you weren’t dreaming.

Please Call Me

1-666-666-6669

Pacing was out of the question. Your limbs were still unsteady no matter how much you willed them to function.

You were trapped on the couch trying to accept what your brain had been screaming at you since you awoke for the fifth time.

How much time had passed?

Heaven and Hell were real, and so were God and the Devil.

And the Devil had paid you a visit.

———

The indent you’d made into your stupid, hand-me-down sofa was probably permanent now that you’d spent who knows how long just rotting there.

Contemplating, processing, fearing.

Fleeting memories of tantrums you’d thrown as a child paralyzed you. Moments in your life that you’d already regretted so much they kept you up some nights — randomly, provoked by nothing — piled up in your brain. Each one harshened that sinking feeling inside your body. This kind of horror was the kind a person feels right before they die.

How long have you been judged from above for your wrongs?

Were you already doomed to Hell? Is that why Lucifer himself wanted ‘to meet’ you? Did he make it a personal habit to visit each lowly sinner and taunt them?

God was real, so did everything actually happen for a reason like so many said?

Why did bad things happen to good people?

Was your dog in heaven, waiting for you and you’d already disappointed her by getting a one way ticket in the opposite direction?

———

You figured out that the ringing in your ears was actually your phone’s alarm when the natural lighting in your apartment was almost gone.

You managed to get to it on the other side of the room half-stumbling from your seat.

“Hello?” You rasped.

“… So you finally decided to answer your phone.”

———

It took you banging on the door and shouting against its old, glossy surface before Cass Farrow cracked it open.

A myriad of expressions crossed her painted face before she opened the door fully. When she faced you, she smiled.

“Honey! It’s been days! We didn’t wanna bother you but we were worried! It’s good to see you up and about!”

The way she acted, as if nothing was wrong, as if the world had turned upside down, had you balling up your fists. Your ragged nails delved into the skin so deeply you could feel the sting of blood.

“I-I need…” You couldn’t stop the copper taste of saliva filling your mouth.

You would not throw up. “I need to speak to your boss.”

Cass blinked owlishly at that. “My what?”

‘Why? Why? Why are you shocked?’ You shouted in your mind.

“Oh honey,” The low tone did nothing to soothe you, only raise your ire. “I don’t know what —”

“The Devil!” Your raised voice made the elderly woman jump. “Or Lucifer, or Baphomet — whatever the fuck you call him! I need to talk to him.”

You scrambled to grab the business card you’d stashed in your pocket.

“You had him in your apartment, so I know he’s in there somewhere.” You said while waving it in Cass’s face frantically.

It was deja vú when Mrs. Farrow eyed the card and her face paled considerably.

“Oh.”

———

Lucifer wasn’t ‘home’. At least, he wasn’t in his personal Airbnb via the Farrow residence.

However, Cass waved it away. “He’ll think it’s you or about you or something to do with you and come running.”

Trying to push yourself and demand she tell you more proved to be too difficult. All you could do is stand with your arms crossed, waiting while the (clearly practiced) worshiper combined a series of dried plants in her hands.

Cass gathered them up and laid them carefully on a side table before fiddling with the furnace and a long lighted match.

The fire blazed to life instantly from the little flicker it had begun as when Cass threw the plants in. It rose higher, and higher, until it had disappeared past where you could see behind the lintel.

You had it in you to be stunned when Lucifer appeared from out of those flames. He was perfectly pristine and intact when he stepped out, hunching slightly to avoid his top hat bumping into the smoke chamber.

The devil was as you remembered him, but also worse in that you couldn’t reassure yourself that his visage was merely a product of your fucked up, overly-imaginative little brain.

He was so… white.

His skin was practically blinding as freshly-painted walls hit by a sunbeam.

Lucifer stepped into the room with a flourish. “I came as soon as I coul-”

‘Fuck.’ You’d been spotted.

And there went Cass, out of the living room to hide away in her smelly kitchen.

“You’re here!” Lucifer cajoled, theatrics on full display as he beheld your presence.

The top hat came off, held in his hands as he graced you with a bashful smile like he was some gentleman caller and not Not-Satan.

“I-I didn’t expect to see you here waiting! But I’m so glad you are. Did you get my card? I thought about just leaving the glove because the card can seem so impersonal —”

“I just got fired.” You blurted out.

The unusually flat face contorted into an anguished expression. “You… you lost your job…?”

“Because of you.”

“B-because of me ?!” His already youthful tenor of a voice raised some octaves. “What —”

You pointed a finger in his direction. “Yes! You !”

“You appeared out of nowhere and fucked up my entire worldview. I've had existential crisis-es… cris-ies? I don’t fucking — I’ve had life-altering spirals before but that was fucking nothing compared with this!”

“And now I’m out of a job and I’m alone in a city I don’t fucking know with cult-worshipping neighbors because I can’t go back to where I was and you’re just standing here like you have no idea why I’m upset!”

You hadn’t expected to get this far. You hadn’t expected to go on a tirade at all, really. Distantly you felt tears sliding down your cheeks and the frantic beat of your heart in your ribcage.

Shame, guilt and fear began toiling deep inside you.

Lucifer had been backed against the wall, hands raised placatingly and expression mirroring your own internal panic. It quickly turned into concern as he took in your sorry state of being.

“Please, no.” He reached out for you and you retaliated by jolting out of reach. “Oh please don’t… I’m sorry. I'm so sorry. I never… if I’d known…”

He was reaching into his coat and pulling something out before your sight cleared. It was a handkerchief with the red moniker L.M. on one corner.

The King held it out to you like a peace offering. Or a white flag.

The force with which you snatched it out of his hands was unnecessary but you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

“You said you picked me. What did you mean by that?” You mumbled into the handkerchief.

Lucifer’s mouth screwed up into a frown, brow creasing. “We don’t have to talk about that —”

“No.” You made eye contact, watching him squirm. “We need to talk about it. Explain it. Now.”

“Ahh… ok, yes, um…” He fiddled with the bow tie at his collar. “Well, like I said before, I wanted to wait until we got to know each other because… because it’s kind of a big deal.”

Your stern frown implored him to continue.

Lucifer winced. “It’s sort of a-a favor I wanted to ask of you. And I thought that if we talked about it over time maybe it wouldn’t sound so monumental… but actually, now…”

The fidgeting worsened, and his nimble fingers had graduated to fussing with the clasps down his front. Eventually, Lucifer yanked his jacket down to straighten it.

“So, I’ve been around for a really, really, really, really long time.” The Devil started. “And I’ve kind of been on my own for *like* ever and that’s fine, whatever, can’t complain. Normally it’s all about warding off boredom.

“But! Lately, it’s been harder and harder to just —” He made a fist and punched down onto the palm of his other hand to elucidate. “— Just, ahh, not be bored? I guess?”

“And it’s been interfering with all the shit I gotta do. I mean I have no-oo motivation, none at all, and it’s becoming a big problem. The other Sins have actually noticed. Like Satan? You know, we talked about him when we met — yeah, he came up to me not too long ago, saying —”

Your heart stopped as Lucifer’s eyes went completely red, blazing in his skull like magma and accompanied by long horns protruding from his head.

His voice took on an unearthly, gravelly quality as he, presumably, mimicked Satan:

“‘We’re worried for you, man. Ozzie says you haven’t been returning his calls. Levi and Bee miss you on their outings but you always say you’re busy. Whatever’s going on, you know you can talk to us, right?’”

Lucifer was back to normal in a millisecond. “And I do know that. I do! But as much as I wanna take them up on it, I just feel like none of them will really understand what’s wrong. I don’t even understand it. Or at least I didn’t until it came to me out of nowhere, like lightning.”

He mimed being zapped in the head.

“Visits and parties with my brothers are fun and all, but they end... And I find myself all alone more often than not.”

Lucifer sighed deeply.

“I don’t really have anything to live for,” He stressed. “Except for myself and…”

“That’s not much.” He snickered mirthlessly.

You swallowed. The anger, frustration, exhaustion and still-present fear were blanketed by an uncomfortable bout of sympathy.

Sympathy for the Devil.

‘Oh shut the fuck up you.’

“Don’t you live for the suffering of mankind or something?” You sniffled, trying to regain your metaphorical footing in the conversation and, in turn, regenerate that anger you’d been consumed by not a minute ago.

Lucifer looked from the ground to you, the gleam in his cherry-red eyes fighting to come back to life.

“Aha! No, no. That’s-that’s a Bible thing, right?” He groaned, pulling down the brim of his hat in exasperation. “Ugh, I still don’t know why Heaven insists on that overblown press kit! It’s so fucking old! And inaccurate!”

Lucifer commiserated with you. “Too much involvement from human hands, too. Ya know? I mean people use it to justify some of the most insane shit I’ve ever seen!”

He cleared his throat at your blank expression.

“Anywho-oo. What was the question again? Oh! Oh, do I live for the suffering of man — no! No, I don’t. In fact, where I’m from? Being in the middle of that suffering shtick gets old real fast. I’ve stayed away from it for a good while now and really I’ve never been better.”

The blond topped off his statement with a smile, showing those razor teeth while also trying to come across as easy-going and candid.

A beat passed, in which you felt your lips form a thin line.

You couldn’t stop yourself.

You snorted.

Lucifer looked at you as if you’d lost your head as your snorts turned into full-blown laughter. Until he, of course, wanted to fit in like he knew exactly what was going on.

“Hahaha, yeah…” Hell’s king chuckled nervously. “I am pretty funny, aren’t I? Ha ha… ha.”

Shaking your head ‘no’, you tried to reign in the body spasms.

“So when you say you ‘picked me’, you mean you want me to… what? Be your therapist?” You asked. “The Devil needs a friend’s shoulder to cry on? What?”

Lucifer fixed you with the first look of genuine annoyance you’d seen (directed at you) from him.

“No.” He harrumphed. “I need a baby.”

Tag List: @crescent-z, @for-hearthand-home, @undertale-is-sansational, @loslox, @navierkalani, @yaimlight, @ivoryviness, @crystalplays28, @flowerempress, @wally-darling-hyperfixation, @altruisticradiodemon, @moonlight-readings, @halparkebitch, @charliecharlie65, @sockgoblin, @cocomollo, @caniseethefourthsword, @squeegeeclean, @crow-twink, @an-emovision

I'm so sorry if I missed anyone who asked to be tagged! I'm having a hard time keeping track.

#hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar

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simpcityy · 4 months

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My Little Spawn Pt.1 (Dadstarion X Child!Reader)

Summary: Astarion was finally free from Cazador after being kidnapped by a mindflayer but he was stuck with one annoying task, you.

Disclaimer: I do not own Baldur's Gate 3 or any of its characters.

Word Count: 2.1K

Warnings: Use of (Y/N), Cazador, language, spoilers for those who haven't gone far in the game....Uhhh...I think that is all.

Everything was dark and blurry in his eyes. All he remembers was stalking in the shadows looking for his next prey and suddenly he was kidnapped. He felt mixed emotions, fear but importantly joy, he was finally away from Cazador. It would be like he suddenly disappeared in thin air and Cazador will need him no more. Until he was stuck with another burden, You. “Would you keep quiet, dammit!?” He whispered rather loudly. You stopped shifting around the tall grass and peaked out of it. “I’m sorry” You whispered before going back to hiding. He looked over seeing two people walking by, “Perfect” He mutters and gets ready to put on his performance.

After almost getting incinerated, you and Astarion have found a group and camp for the remainder of the period till the little wiggly worm is out of your mind but of course, you wouldn’t comprehend, for you were so young.

“Who’s the little adorable bugger?” Gale smiles letting you try to read the books he has found so far. “For the record this annoying little sp-human is not mine, they just seem to be attached to me.” Astarion watches you trying to pronounce the big words only to butcher them. “But it’s getting rather late and I hate to deal with a cranky annoying child tomorrow.” He picked you up keeping his arms outstretched and walked to his tent. Once everyone was out of earshot, he squats at your height. “Listen here, you must not tell anyone what we are understood?” His red eyes look down at your innocent (E/C) ones. “But why not?” You sat on top of the pillow looking up at Astarion seeing him take a deep breath in. Of course, Astarion knows he has to make it simple. “Because we are playing a game” He grins “ We are all hiding our identity. You and I are a team and the rest are a team. Whoever is the first one to discover their real identity, is the sore loser.” He gives a smile sitting down next to you. You pouted, your cheeks puffed up “We will win, okay! I won’t tell.” You lean back before yawning “ If they ask what do I say?” You cute little doe eyes look at him tiredly. “Hmm…we are just normal elves got it?” He looks away in deep thought, “it’s for the best for now” He mutters before leaning back “ You know for a being the youngest Spawn he created…you still need rest like a human, you are such an odd little creature” He gently plays with the ends of your hair “ Why did he even turn you?” He whispers as you slowly slip into sleep. “What use does he even have for you?” He kept asking himself all the questions ever since you were part of the “Family”

You were the youngest spawn Cazador has ever gotten. You were only 5 soon turning 6. Astarion was first shocked to see Cazador holding you in his arms when he came back from bringing a pretty prey for his master. He never dared question, he kept all his unanswered questions to himself. Astarion felt anger towards you both. Why was Cazador more tender with you, not treating you like he does to his other spawns. Why did you get the special treatment? He was mostly angry towards Cazador as always, why did he turn you, you didn’t even reach your half way milestone of your life. You were going to stay that age and size forever. He has been treated like shit for 200 years but you, you would never experience the things a child should be, the things teenerages and young adults go through. Once again Cazador has robbed you of your life just how Astarion was robbed of his.

Morning rolled by, You picked up a little flower near Gale’s tent, “Astarion! Look what I found!” You ran up to him as he was getting ready to set foot on finding a healer with the others. “What is it this time?” He mutters looking up before seeing a flower being gently shoved to his face. “A flower.” You smile waiting for him to take it. “ A flower…you called my attention for a flower…this is why I don’t work with little annoying monsters.” He sighs already feeling annoyed from the lack of blood. “I’m sorry…” You whisper looking down, putting the flower away from his face, small tears forming in your doe eyes. He stops putting things into his bag and sighs “ Why must you be such a crybaby” He sits down pulling your tiny form on his lap, taking the flower. “Wow, thank you. I feel the luckiest person to get a flower from you.” He says in a bored voice looking at you. You sniff and rub your eyes, “You mean it?” The tears no longer present in your eyes. He looks at you unamused. “Yes, now shoo, I have to pack. Go bother Gale, Shadowheart or even Tav but not me got it?” He makes you get off his lap before freezing feeling you give him a light peck on his cheek “Okay! I’ll collect more flowers for the others!” You giggle before running off. He placed a hand over his cheek and watched the direction you left. “What an odd little spawn.” He whispers before continuing to pack.

You hummed a tune as you collected more flowers near Gale’s camp where Gale was sitting on the pillow, reading a book. He looks up hearing you hum. “Say (Y/n), that tune you must be from the upper city aren’t you?” He smiles placing the book down as your little feet shuffle over to him. “Mmhm! Papa would always sing me this lullaby at night!” You grin “It’s my favorite and he always wants me to sing! He says I’m his little singing bird!” Placing the flowers down, you sat on the ground in front of gale. Thinking back to what Astarion said last night, remembering to not give away too much information. “Judging by your clothes, I bet your father is a rather important man?” He smiles rubbing down those stubborn baby hairs that lift up from your hair. You only nodded “Papa is the best! I miss him and I want to go home…” You look around the wilderness that you and Astarion crashed in. “I want him to hold me close…I always dream of those monsters…and the little wormy” Whimpering you scoot into Gale’s arms. “I don’t want them to come back!” You tear up, “I want papa to hold me but he’s not here!” You wail. Gale quickly panics “Oh…crying child…what to do…wish Tara was here…” He mutters before rubbing your back “Hey now, you can always come to me, Shadowheart and even Tav if you ever have a nightmare. How about this, before you go to bed, I will tell you a story so you can dream of that story rather than the scary monsters. Trust me, I have read so many books, I know them by heart.” He grins as you finally stopped the water works. “Which is why he’s a walking library in this case.” Shadowheart smiles walking over “Now, we should get going, the closer we find a healer, the faster you can go to your papa” She smiles leaning to your height. “Really!” You smiled, your eyes widened at the thought of seeing your father soon. “Let’s go!” Grabbing the flowers, you ran to Astarion to share the news.

“Astarion!”

“What now!?”

Walking to find a healer seems like eternity to you, “I wanna rest!” You whined to Astarion tugging at his shirt. “Then complained to Tav, they are leading the damn group, not me.” He sighs, breathing in heavily to compose himself from lashing out. “Up! Up!” You lifted your arms. “The hell I won’t!” He walks faster only for you to follow him whining even more. The rest of the small group look over watching the two of you, seeing you bothering Astarion even more. “Is it me or do these two know each other very much?” Shadowheart watches you keep tugging on his shirt. “Yet he says he doesn’t know (Y/N), that they only tagged along with him.” Gale crossed his arms. Tav smiles “I don’t know, (Y/n) looks nothing like Astarion so I doubt they are related and (Y/N) always mentions a papa.” Shadowheart and Gale nodded. “What in the nine hells! Where did you go!?” Astarion looks around for you as you stop tugging on his shirt a while ago. “Where did they go?” Tav walks back to the pale elf. “ I don’t know, the moment they were annoying the hell out of me! Next thing I know, they are go- wait…” He smells it, blood. You must have run off to the smell. “ I…um…heard them, this way” He quickly follows the scent with the rest following.

You carefully walked down the ladder, the smell of blood getting stronger. Turning around a corner, you are met with a woman with red skin, burning and importantly with a broken horn. Slowly walking over to the tiefling, you look up at her “Are you okay?” You meekly whisper seeing how tall she was according to your height. She looks up hearing the childish voice, “Hells, what is a child doing all alone?” She looks at you shocked before feeling the tadpoles connect. “Fuck” Karlach whispers holding her head “You were also in that ship…” She whispers before calming herself down and kneels down to make it seem less intimidating to you. “Hey there little soldier, What are you doing all alone?” She smiles as you slowly take small steps towards her. “I…you’re hurt…are you okay?” You go to place your small hand on her but she backs away quickly. “Careful there, I’m not like any other tiefling, I can burn you.” She smiles “I'm Karlach, what’s your name, little soldier?” She chuckles admiring your little face as you try to say her name slowly. “Car…Ka…la…Karlach.” You finally get it right, before giving her your name, someone else beat you to it.

“(Y/N)!?” Tav runs over, crossing the log and quickly pulls you back from Karlach, putting you behind. “Get away from them” Tav frowns weapons out. “Are you okay?” Shadowheart checks you over for any injuries as Gale also checked along with her. Astarion catches up and lets out a small sigh seeing you alive and safe. “What in the sweet hells were you thinking running off like that?! A goblin could’ve gotten you or a wild animal?!” He looks down at you but stops himself seeing you tear up. “I-I’m sorry….don’t get mad like papa!” You cried. “Like papa….” He glares down at you. “Don’t ever compare me to him you litt-” He stops himself seeing the fear in your eyes. Him, being like Cazador. He would rather kill himself than be exactly like his old master. He sighs before kneeling to you as the others were busy with Karlach. “Sorry…I was…I guess you can say I was very worried…I know it wasn’t your intention to run off…” He then whispers “You must be hungry…for blood like me…I know you are craving that sweet and yet bitter flavor but you need to hold it in like I am…tonight we’ll find some small vermin okay?” He slowly pats your head as you nod. Standing up, he walks over to the rest as you follow closely to him. “My, I feel so much better knowing we have a strong wall to protect us from any arrows” He smirks after learning Karlach was recruited. “I like her! She’s nice!” You popped out from behind walking over to Karlach. “And I like you little soldier” She smiles.

After going back to camp for the day, Astarion watches as you listen to Gale’s stories. He sat from his tent looking at a book but his mind wandered back to what you said. Like papa…when has Cazador ever punished you? He thinks back but nothing comes to him. He turns the page to the book to make it look like he was reading. He looks back at you with that question still haunting his thoughts. It really ticked him off when you compared him to Cazador, he will never be like him…no he will be better. He wants to get back at him and back at him good. He smirks looking at you. Why not get him back with the thing he treasures the most, or rather the person he treasures the more.

You

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Authors Notes: Thank you everyone for reading this, please like, reblog and share it with others. I will be working on Part 2 soon hopefully. I also started another series a month ago or more about Astarion and a Gur! Reader. There is only part 1 out as well but I will be working out on that. Please remember to stay hydrated and to get some rest. Love you all! You are welcome to ask to be tagged as well for the next part.

-Axie

#father figure Astarion #astarion #bg3 #bg3 astarion #bg3 fic #astarion fic #fatherfigure #dadstarion x child reader #dadstarion #tav #gale #shadowheart #Karlach #baldurs gate 3

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50cal-fullauto-astarion · 11 months

Text

hot in sarajevo i

[ part two ]

könig x f!reader operator (no use of "y/n") / 4k words / NSFW

cw: assassination, dubcon (not really bc reader is into it and consents, but better safe than sorry bc ymmv), unsanitary conditions, rough sex, unprotected p-in-v sex, fingering, creampie, brief mention of burn injuries, pre-established relationship a.n.: no excuse for this, indulged a brain worm on my day off bc i wanted to write something nasty. enjoy!

It’s been a blistering, miserable six hours out in the hills outside Sarajevo proper. The height of summer, surrounded by dead-brown grass blown about sadly in the weak breeze. You cook in your ghillie suit, knowing it could very well be another six hours under this heat with zero shade, just waiting on your target. Sweating. Searching. Souring.

König is your spotter, and he’s already not pleased with the fact. He’d much rather be the one wrapped around the Steyr HS .50, instead relegated to the seemingly miserable role of binocular jockey. But the fact is, he’s better at recon, and you can stay planted in one place without moving even when your lower body burns with numbness.

“I’m hard,” he announces in his way—no preamble, no fanfare, moderate expectation.

“Christ,” you snort, pulling away from the scope only enough to throw a glance at him. He’s still pressed against the oculars, jaw working on sunflower seeds because they can’t smoke without setting the tinderbox field around them on fire. Otherwise, you can barely see the shape of him in his own ghillie suit among the grass. “Clench your legs and your torso, or hump the fucking dirt.”

“Not going to get the job done,” he laughs darkly, dumping back another mouthful of seeds. You can hear them crack between his molars as he bites down hard.

He’s going to be a fucking handful after this.

Going back to your scope, watching the highway, you promise him, “If you’re good helping me with this assassination, we can play when we’re done.”

Another hard bite, another gravelly laugh. Sing-song, he warns you, “Better hope he drives by so-oooh-oon, Schatzi.”

“Always nice to get a visit from mean-König,” you hum back, trying for unaffected, even as your cunt floods and clenches around nothing.

It’s just hitting golden hour when the target finally deigns to bomb past your scope in a civilian vehicle trussed up in subtle armor. You and König slot right into the predator drift, bodies left behind to fall into the hunt. Working like extensions of one body, he confirms a PID, and throws calculations your way, sharp and sleek, and your blood turns into straight adrenaline, pupils dilated to pitch black.

You work like the sword of god, lining up your crosshairs, allowing for lead, allowing for wind and elevation, and when you exhale and give the trigger what it wants, the sky cracks in half with a sonic boom, big gun bucking brutal against your shoulder. With one shot you take out the target and driver, vehicle careening off the road.

König’s low, restrained laugh blends into yours, your teeth chattering under your face covering. Two more shots cut the blood-and-gold colored sky, killing the remaining passengers, and something vile in you shrieks with delight when one of them staggers around without a head a few steps before falling backwards stiff as a board.

Your eyes catch his as you throw the safety, pulling the massive rifle into your arms to flee the scene, and he looks blood-poisoned with arousal. The normal blue-gray of his eyes are gone, sore, unblinking pink sclera around inkwell pools of black. His back heaves with his breathing, body rigid and clenched, hips grinding against the ground. He is going to fucking tear you apart and eat the pieces. Saturn Devouring His Son, König Devouring His Lover.

Without a word, you both force your bodies around in the tall, dead grass, ghillie suits blending your belly-drag crawl to the treeline.

There’s a five mile hike between your abandoned perch and the exfil vehicle, following back the steps you took this morning, with a staging site in the middle of it. Small clearing, deep enough that no one could stumble across it, a temporary home for your rifle’s case and minimal necessary equipment.

The moment you’re both upright in the treeline, König’s got a vicious hand under your camo, gripping your belt, dragging you close and up, forcing you on unbalanced tiptoes. “You’re going to fucking give it to me,” he demands.

You turn it around, snatching a hand under his hood, gun sagging in your arms. Your fist wraps around the jaw strap of his helmet, knuckles pressing into his jugular–his pulse is fucking racing, booming, screaming through his veins–and your teeth are shards of glass as you command him, “Fucking heel. You’re not being a good boy.”

That makes him pant, almost reeling, eyes blinking out of sorts, pulling you closer, almost against him.

“That is not how it’s going to work today,” he says, slow and damning. Turns your blood into lava, thick and slow and lethal pumping through your heart as it fights for its life. He pulls the rifle from your hand, and it weighs nothing to him. Nearly looks like he’s got more to say, and he’s trying to figure out how to word it, but his brain is too clouded with lust to put it in the right order.

Hefts the gun over his shoulder like a bat, and shoves you back by the pelvis, releasing you. Time to go, the moves say, leaving you no dignified way to hold onto the authority that’s slipped through your fingers.

You know he’s burning frustration, anger, and resentment as fuel for this mood. You were the designated sniper, he was a lowly spotter. In his mind, that position belonged to him, and you took it. It didn’t matter that you were the superior choice, that he was invaluable to the kill.

No. Not at all. You stole from him, and he’s taking something in return.

If you weren’t thinking solely with your pussy, you would admit that it would probably be wise to exercise caution with him at the moment. But you’re not. You’re going to get your brains fucked out and painted on a tree.

At the staging area, scant gold light is cutting through the trees as the sun lumbers its way to setting, and the woods are humid and dense. Your boots crush fallen beech nut pods and pine needles. Could almost be Thoreauvian, if there was a lake, or not a gun big enough to kill god in the arms of a sexually frustrated Austrian maniac.

König is fast and quiet, ripping the mag out of the gun, emptying the chamber, dropping the gun on its case. You’d seen him piece apart a pistol to base components in ten seconds many times, he’s making himself take time with the rifle, leaving it barely touched.

You’ve got enough time to just prepare for him to grab you around the middle so you aren’t thrown off balance, leaning into his momentum as he hauls you to an enormous beech tree, his back sliding down the trunk. Keeps you pinned in his lap, laughing harsh and ugly as you deal with your belt, button, and zipper, “Good girl–good fucking girl. Know what I’m going for.”

“You’re easy to predict,” you bullshit him with a sharp edge. He’s going to get his way, and you’re going to deliver unto him whatever the fuck he pleases, but you’re going to keep your teeth through it. “Could’ve taken the suits off, could’ve really given you a show.”

“Cute that you think I’m in a rush. You’re in the suit on purpose,” he grates, thrusting against your ass, forcing you open with your legs over his knees. “Keep being mouthy. Only fucks me up worse.”

“Stiff breeze gets you fucked up,” you snort, but when he hooks his gloved thumb in your zipper, you lift your hips to help him pull your pants down your thighs. Leaves you exposed, drenched in sweat, and wet in his lap. “Goddamned freak.”

He bypasses the true and mutually reflective accusation completely, grinding the forehead of his helmet against the back of yours. Still looking for affectionate closeness, even when he’s out for blood. “Can smell you, good god,” he growls, sliding his huge hand into your underwear, grabbing your sex in ownership. “You and the military issue drawers–typical. Been a while since I fucked you in gear. Still wearing the boxers because you wish you were hanging dick, or is it just to match the attitude?”

“Commissary ran out of crotchless combat thongs. Waiting on a restock.” The rough fabric of his gloved middle finger splits your lips, teasing your hole, and for a flashfire second you think he’d better not give you a UTI with those dirty fucking things, before it burns straight out of your head.

“Better luck next time,” he taunts, jaw tight. You can hear the wolf-fanged smirk in his tone. “Start going commando. Make it easier.”

“Maybe there isn’t a next time,” you volley back, “best you make the most of this.”

“There’s always a next time. No one else could fuck you like me. Little whore you are, you’d get bored.”

He blots all the thought out in your head, adding his ring finger to the mix, pushing both huge digits into your starving cunt. Rips a bark right out of you, arching off his chest and pushing against his hips for leverage, trying automatically to fuck down on them even as the pain of the fabric feels like it’s rasping your insides. “Jesus fucking Christ,” you gasp, going hot-cold-and-blind all at once, nipples pulling tight under your gear.

He throws a heavy arm around your stomach, pulling you back down, merciful or mindful enough to know he needs to go slow, or this isn’t going to go anywhere except the infirmary. “Take it, Liebes, swallow them down with that pretty cunt,” he commands, his English as sharp and scraping as scythe blades felling harvest in wide, practiced strokes, “I’m not even close to done.”

You can already feel his fat cock straining against his pants, even through all the layers between you, and you rut back against it, at least trying to get some torture of your own added in. That just makes him stupid and animalistic, pushing his chin over your shoulder, trying to butt into your jaw. He wants to bite your lips, but there are too many impediments blocking the way.

His fingers squelch down to the last knuckle, your pussy spasming around them, soaking the fabric. He’s a pervert to such a degree that you know he’s going to leave them unwashed, and he’s going to wear and suck on them while he beats off when you’re not there until there’s no flavor left.

For now, he’s slow, rocking them into you in a curve, his sense of touch dampened as he searches out your g-spot. The exploration makes you feel filthy, and just a little humiliated. Used. Faceless and disrespected. It’s so opposed to his usual dogmatic worship, fresh and frightening.

He gives a little something extra, grinding the heel of his hand over your clit, telling you to use it. You do, finally feeling something physically pleasurable, even though it’s too dull and not nearly enough.

König is segmented; you’ve known that for as long as you’ve known him. Don’t know if he did it to himself, or if it was an after-affect of all the bad shit he didn’t die from. He’d let you in on enough to know that his best days are numb neutrality and boredom intercut with adrenalized high-chasing. His worst days are lost dogs and veils of blood floating through his mouth.

He almost clicks over from one facet to another when you push against his arm, hissing through your teeth as a stitch on his glove catches a fold in you. For a microsecond, lover-König surfaces, shifting you around against his body, repositioning his fingers so you aren’t hurting too badly, and then he’s gone again.

With a rough hand, he shoves the tan boxer-briefs down your thighs, and bucks your ass off his pelvis, going to release his cock.

You push your shoulders back against his chest, plate carrier digging into your shoulderblades. “Only two fingers, aren’t you acting like a fucking prince today.”

“You’re lucky you got that much,” he snaps back, groaning when his cock springs free of his trappings, and he strokes it beneath you. Monster fucking thing it is, long enough you can see the swollen, leaking head between your legs, even as you’re still hovering. There’s no give in the skin, and the head is a needy red with arousal, completely slipped from his foreskin. “Put it in.”

You ignore his order, writhing against him, your discomfort only ramping up your arousal. It’s nightmarish how badly you actually want his cock fed into you, desperate to have anything to fill the void his fingers left in you, and, shit, it would be so much sweeter and smoother than the gloves. Hot and throbbing, his precum mixing with your slick–it’s going to be so loud.

“It’s your dick, you figure it out,” you hiss, wrestling your shoulders up just enough to piss him off. His other arm moves up to your ribs, slamming you back down against him.

“Nein,” he seethes, as close to your throat as he can get, and you hear him suck back spit. Wonder if you busted his lip on the way down. Trained himself too hard not to do that otherwise, because of the harelip he’s hiding under the hood. “I said put it in, Schatzi.”

His laugh is airier this time, when you cuss him and comply, thinned out with need. He shudders into you as you brush your fingers over the length–teasing bulging veins and hot, thin skin–trying to scoop him up. He squeezes you tighter, letting out a furnace-bellow breath, as you tease the head through your wet folds, stupid fly-by-night sex-trigonometry screeching through your head as you find the angle you both need to get him in. He drops his free hand on your thigh, pulling you further open, giving himself a handle to hold.

As soon as his big cockhead plugs your hole and seals a seal with the wet, you fly to grip both his wrists, nerves on high alert. For good cause, as well, because instantly, he starts fucking up into you with harsh thrusts, constricting all around you with bruising force.

The sheer mass of him is over-fucking-whelming, and white spots crackle in your vision as you pant, trying desperately to relax and accept him into your body. Usually��when he’s sweeter and taking his time with you, not punishing you for a perceived slight like he is now–he is slower, considerate, almost hesitant until you dig your spurs into his sides, demanding he cut loose.

This time he’s forcing you to ride him, emptying and filling you in deeper and deeper strokes, forcing you to take his cock. Somehow it still feels right, just being full of him, aching with it, pussy hungrily sucking him in, wanting more and more and more.

But, god dammit, you can’t just let him get away with this. You fuck back down against him, trying to meet his rhythm with the little movement he affords your bound body, the sound of his boots grinding for purchase in the substrate, your combined dead-sprint breathing, and his balls slapping wet against your ass breaking the utter still-life quiet of the woods.

“Insertion specialist,” you bite, throwing your head back against his shoulder to belt out your whimpering laughter, and, oh, that burns him.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he snarls, his helpless thrusting turning focused, dragging you down in hard thrusts, hitting your cervix with every deep, powerful stroke. It knocks the wind out of you, and you’re left speechless, probably what he wanted.

It puts you in a trance state, your eyes unfocused looking up at the canopy as he uses you. A wet, liquid-gold heat starts building pressure behind your pelvis, and a frantic harebrained thought tells you that you have to piss. It only gets worse when he drops his hand back between your legs, putting a finger on either side of your clit, his intent clear.

“Wait,” you wheeze, barely surfacing the trance, rolling your eyes wildly toward him, finding his focus is between your legs. “Wait, König, I–”

“Just fucking take it,” he cuts you off, and it’s not entirely cruel. He’s forcing an orgasm on you, maybe the thought crawled up out of the part of his heart where his empathy lives, the part he hides until his real-boy-skin-suit has fallen away in tatters. You know what’s underneath. You love him for what he is.

You squirt when you come, pouring down his cock, soaking your thighs. Your cunt tries to push him out, but he belligerently stays buried, riding it out with you, and he whimpers as you spasm and ripple around him, biting your shoulder through his mask and the gaiter beneath it. It’s a dull pressure, and you wish it was sharper.

“Oh my god,” you keen, trying to turn and hide your face, trying to draw your legs back together as wave after wave of pleasure rock your body, your stomach turning in benign shame. König praises you, “Good, good, good, good,” his words falling away into a German blur that you have a hard time translating.

“Arch your back, curl up,” he tells you in his native language, his command voice withering, getting lost as he gets closer. He’s gotten fatter in your swollen cunt, and he throbs against your walls. His balls are pulled up so tight, you can feel them against your lips on the upstroke.

All you can do is listen, lifting off of him and curving like you’re living through an exorcism.

Doesn’t that make him lose his goddamned mind. Moans like a shocked virgin getting his first piece of pussy, in tandem with the cry you release, sliding in at a new angle. He can’t even help himself, he’s just stupid with pleasure, chasing it. All the bite and venom he had floods out of him, and he’s just a panting, greedy, whimpering mess, holding on to you because he needs an anchor, because he needs you.

He pushes up onto the balls of his feet, leaving the tree completely, forcing you back against him in the cage of his body. Your legs slide open over his thighs, and you’re dependent on him to keep from falling face-first in the forest floor and eating shit. He keeps you up, clutching to you, fucking you with short, fast thrusts, the soaking wet sounds of his cock demanding everything your cunt can deliver obscene, carnal.

Your idiot hand grabs for his hood as it hangs over your shoulder, spilling dumb swears and nonsense, “Fuck–oh, fucking–god dammit, König, you’re. I can’t,” that he meets with simple begging, “Bitte, bitte, Schatzi, bitte, Ich brauche, bitte, Ich brauche–”

His form staggers, and he takes a knee, locking up tight, letting out a thin, high-pitched cry of shock as he cums, flooding you completely in big jets. The pressure is uncomfortable and delirious, but you try to tighten around him, hold as much as you can.

Both of your heads ring in the immediate aftermath. You can suddenly tell that both of you reek, the scent of twelve-hours worth of stakeout body odor mixing with musk, sex, and cum. You can tell by how his mouth sounds as he pants and tries to collect himself and work through his intense but inescapable post-nut shame that he’s dehydrated. You are, too, your head pounding. And, just because you know him, and you know how you work as a team, you don’t need to look at either of set of your shaking hands to know both of your blood sugar is utterly fucked.

Slowly, he lumbers back up against the tree, his touch turning softer. You flop back against him, winching when his cock slips out of you, hanging glistening and messy between his legs. He buries himself in the crook of your neck, trying to steady his breathing. His arms come up again–not to pin you in place, but to hug and hold you. You pat the scant sliver of bare skin between his gloves and the cuff of the ghillie suit.

Only occurs to you right now how stupid you two must’ve looked. Like a monkey fucking a football. Or maybe two bushes getting battered around in a storm. You snort a weary laugh, and he shakes his head, nosing deeper. He’s asking for quiet. You give it, letting your eyes slip closed as his cum drips out of you.

A few minutes later, he stirs, kneading your sides with his fingers. Mean-König has fucked off, you can already tell. It’s not KorTac-König, either, the one that’s nasty and loud and abrasive. This is just König. The slice of him that you know the first and last name of. The one that takes you on dates, and to go grocery shopping at Lidl–who lets you kiss his harelipped mouth, who lets you moisturize and massage the gummy wads of keloid burn scars eating up the left side of his face and neck, from when he was burnt by boiling sugar as a child, when they feel tight and miserable.

For convenience, and knowing you’re both going to seek it out, you unclip your helmet straps, letting them tumble off your heads. Further, you reach back and pull the hood off over his head, dropping it over your thigh, and pull your mask down as he pulls down his gaiter.

He helps you shift enough that you’re lying on your side over him, wet, soft cock pressing into your naked thigh. He sighs when you kiss him, light, quick, over and over, never really leaving his lips. He’ll be needy for the rest of the night.

His pupils are slowly going back down to a normal size, and the blue is coming back, all puppy-eyed and wet as he presses your foreheads together. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I had fun.”

“I shouldn’t have been that rough. Or mean.”

You shrug. “You know I thought it was hot.” You give him simple facts, easy to chew and swallow while his teeth are hurting from his harshness. You think he’d probably ask you to pull them so he couldn’t do something like it again in the future, but that is simply not in his nature. Fanged, or not, his moods will come and go.

His hands tremble, going to his thighs, and he digs up a zippo and a pack of cigarettes, pressing them into you. “Could you light some for us, please.”

You do, giving him another kiss before you break to try to attend your given task. He helps stabilize your hands, and you end up with lit menthols, popping one between his lips. He inhales deeply, shuddering as he relaxes a physical notch.

You heavily pet his face, traveling his bone structure, and then down his neck. Start to focus on his chest and shoulders, because it will help him down the easiest. Even though he took charge today, you still readily slot into the process of leading aftercare, truncated as it is by being in the field. Almost literally.

“Think you’ll be up for more later?” you ask, digging your fingers into the spot behind his ear that always makes him lax. “Safehouse would let us take our time.”

He makes a grumbling noise, touching your noses together. “Want to love you. Not fuck.”

“Yeah, no. I couldn’t take another fuck tonight,” you snort in agreement, and, finally, he snorts back. “We need to get moving. Sun’s going down, and we need to report.”

He gathers you up for a final, lingering, sloppy kiss before he unwinds from you, knowing that you’re right. And, besides, there’s a safehouse looming on the horizon.

#konig #könig #call of duty #cod mw2 #mw2 #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig smut #my work #ngl i just wrote my oc in second person pov so like sorry but honestly not that sorry lmfao everyone still gets to eat #but there's no use of names or nationality markers it reads pure reader

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highwayorgantrade · 9 months

Text

Safe House

Pairing: Female Reader! X Soap

Request: Nooo

Summary: Oh no! A bunch of soldiers posted up in your farmhouse bed and breakfast?? Whatever shall you do!! Should you fuck them??

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Overstimulation, begging, volume (keep quiet), unprotected sex, cervix kissing

Author's note: Okay listen y'all I did not plan on doing this whatsoever. I was in the middle of writing a Graves thing when I got this idea and I knew I just had to get that damn little brain worm out before it ruined my life further. This is gonna be a series!!!!!

The mission had gone wrong. Oh, so horribly wrong. 141 thought they were smart by teaming up with Los Vaqueros again to take down a trafficking ring - “Positive international relations,” Price had called it. “We even got imported muscle.” He grinned, referring to the 6’10” man they had called in, after hearing of his ability to do his job and keep his mouth shut.

However, the ring had decided on the same tactic, bringing in a nearby cartel to defend their location. Quickly, way too quickly, the group was overwhelmed, frantically phoning in to Laswell for extraction.

“Don’t worry,” She sighed, after directing the seven men to a relatively safe area, the black-tinted SUV already flying gravel. “I have a friend.”

You had just so happened to be the friend. Well, the relative was more accurate, being her sister-in-law. You knew what she did for work, but you never thought she would call on you for help with it.

“Please, (Y/N), it’ll only be for a few days, I swear. A week, tops.” She called you early one November morning. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” And you knew she wouldn’t. The fact was simple: You had lived relatively nearby, and the bed and breakfast you operated and lived in certainly had the facilities to house eight people, and it so happened to be the off-season.

You were eager to accept, happy to help your sister, and it would be nice to have some muscle with the chores that needed done around the property. When the SUV pulled up, you quickly regretted your decision. You had expected a house full of military boys, tearing around like a pack of dogs, but out stepped six of the most attractive men you have ever seen, all completely different, but equally as handsome and rugged. Two were masked, but Christ, were they big anyway. As they loaded packs out of the van, you stepped into the grass, the cold air causing you to draw your cardigan tighter around yourself. When you approached, you kept a safe distance - partly because you didn’t know them, but also because you were afraid that if you got too close, you’d get lost in the intricacies of their faces.

“Hey!” You spoke finally, the rustling of the dying leaves nearly drowning you out. “I’m (Y/N), I hope the trip out wasn’t too awful!” You internally cringed at yourself for giving them the usual spiel you reserved for guests, but continued anyway. “Come on in, all the rooms are pretty much the same, but you can pick, so… that’s something.”

“Ay, don’t worry lass, better by miles than where we’ve been.” One of them finally spoke, casting a friendly grin your way, and you turned quickly to hide the burning on your cheeks.

You were proud of the way your property looked, hidden well off the road in a small forested area, the whole thing had kind of an eclectic feel to it, but you still felt kind of strange leading them into the common area.

“Okay!” You clasped your hands together, and tried to remember that you were only a housing opportunity - they had more important things to focus on. “Well, uh, I’ll stay out of your way as much as I can, but you might see me flitting about here and there. What’s mine is yours.” Some nodded their thanks, others were making quick work of checking their bags for God knows what, and one, the one in a skull mask, merely stared down at you, his large arms crossed on his chest.

Okay… You took that as your cue to leave, and you quickly stepped out the back door, hoping to make progress on your chores before the sun set.

The frigid air felt nearly unbearable compared to how hot you were burning in their presence - you didn’t even realize that you were slightly sweating. With a sigh, you reminded yourself of your responsibilities. Repaint the gazebo, refill and hang the bird feeders, and fix the greenery so everything is in full bloom by summer. Leaves crunched under your step as the half-painted gazebo came into view. You could hear voices coming from your house, a few with different accents, mostly British, but you could pick out a Scottish, a vaguely German, and a couple Spanish lilts. A booming laugh echoed, and you relaxed your tense shoulders at the sound.

“Don’t make me regret this, Kate.” You mumbled as you settled into the grass and popped open a paint can.

She was pretty. It was the first thing Soap had noticed. It looked like she belonged here, in the woods, with the wind blowing her hair and birds singing in her presence. No doubt she kept them well-fed. He had barely listened when she spoke - he was much too focused on how her sweater wrapped tightly around her body, or how her eyes seemed to physically sparkle with curiosity. She had said something, Soap had no idea, but he responded anyway. Something about the drive? The rooms?

“Ay, don’t worry lass, better by miles than where we’ve been.” He answered, stabbing that it was an appropriate response. The way she averted her eyes and a hint of a smile played at the edges of her lips told him that he was successful. When she turned around to lead them into the safehouse, Price gave him a nudge and shook his head ‘no.’ No fucking Kate’s pretty little sister? Might as well ask him to walk on fucking water, next.

She had promised to make herself scarce, and Soap was silently thankful. He didn’t want this woman caught up in what they were doing, and he didn’t want her to know something that could get her in trouble - Laswell would never forgive them. When she left, Alejandro was the first to speak.

“Nobody talk to me about this mission tonight.” He grumbled, and Soap recognized that as a request long ago, based on the way his jaw was clenched nearly the entire drive to the location, muttering what Soap assumed to be expletives every so often. He trudged up the stairs with his bag, Rudy trailing not far behind.

“Right, then.” Ghost spoke, rolling his shoulders and pulling out a map of the enemy facility and laying it on the wood table, and Soap nearly laughed at how out of place it looked. “If they’ve gotten support from that gang, it eliminates them from support from anyone else, and makes them a target to others, not just us.”

“We need to get to them first.” Konig’s hand landed on the map, gesturing vaguely at an entrance. “This was lightly guarded.” Soap stared at the location, before his eyes flitted out the window to see you approaching a gazebo outside, and he itched to get this out of the way.

“Aye, they might reinforce that entrance since they know it’s weak now. Leaves somewhere else open to vulnerability.” Soap strategized, his eyes lingering on how your hands ran through your hair, and JESUS, how did it still look perfect after that? A light thump on the back of his head pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked back to see Gaz with a raised eyebrow, the corners of his mouth turning upwards.

“No-go, mate. Red zone. Laswell would have your head on a stick.”

“Might be worth it.” Ghost chimed in, following his gaze to the woman.

Price pointed a warning finger to Ghost, his face stony.

“Ghost, stop instigating. Gaz, leave Soap alone. Konig…” He took a breath, considering the man had nothing to do with their antics. “Good job. Soap, I wish I had control over who a soldier decides to sleep with, but I don’t.”

“That girl in Ibiza left a bad taste in your mouth, Cap?” Soap retorted, recalling one of his more infamous hook-ups, and Price laughed loudly.

“Lesson for the inexperienced,” Ghost turned to Konig. “Remember your date’s name or she will throw a knife at you.” Konig shook his head at this, and slung his bag over his shoulder, ready to call it a day.

“Sounds like my kind of woman.”

Soap had already tuned the ribbing out, and when Ghost packed up the plans, he was already tracing your path, walking out the back door to meet you.

A rustling of leaves caused your head to perk up, and you turned to see the one who had spoken to you earlier, a small smile on his face.

“Need any help?” He tilted his head at the gazebo. “More hands make less work ‘n all.” You looked back at your work, having made minimal progress since you began.

“Oh! Yeah, sure. If you want.” You responded, pulling the paint tray out in front of you so he could take the spare paintbrush. A moment of silence passed before he spoke again.

“I’m Johnny. Most of the guys call me Soap, though.”

Soap? The nickname seemed to come out of nowhere, and you crinkled your nose at this.

“Why do they call you that? You shower more than everyone else or something?” He laughed at this, reaching up to cover the underside of a railing in white paint, and you fought to keep your eyes from lingering on his arms.

“Good at cleaning house, love.” Soap corrected you, your lips pursing at the nickname. “How long have you had this place?”

You shrugged, simply happy that he was making conversation with you.

“Coupl’a years. Since I was twenty. Bought it as a dump and flipped it.” He makes a noise of approval and takes a deep breath.

“Your, uh, boyfriend live here with you, does he?” At this, you can’t help but allow a laugh to tear through you, both in recognition of what Soap was doing, and out of pure shock that he was doing it.

“Not sure where my boyfriend lives, I haven’t met him yet. Let me know if you find him, though, yeah?” Soap shook his head.

“I don’t think I will, but thank you for the offer.”

The back and forth with Soap left your head reeling, and you considered your options as you painted in silence. Kate would kill you if she found out, but she doesn’t need to find out. It has been terribly long since you’ve even been on a date, or even had sex for that matter, and Soap certainly isn’t the worst looking man in the world. He clearly had a great body, and you delved down the rabbit hole of how his arms would look pinning your arms above your head, his battle-worn dog tag trailing cold electricity down your chest.

A flash of yellow light pulled you out of your musings, and a firefly landed on your knee. You took a deep breath and turned to Soap, his attention garnered by your sudden movement of waving the small bug away.

“Do you wanna have a drink tonight? With me?” Your face was comically serious, and Soap let out a soft chuckle as he replaced the lid on the paint, taking the brush from your hand.

“Aye.” He stood, sighing a bit at the noise his knees made, and handed you the paint tray.

“I’ll, uh, go put this up and meet you inside.” You offered him a small smile, and his head tilted at you, trying to hide his own.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Soap had to stop himself from running back into the house. Giddiness coursed through him, and he burst through the door to see Gaz, Ghost, and Konig sat in various places around the living room, the TV tuned in to the local news.

“Get the fuck out.” He stated simply, his eyes wide and a dumb grin on his face.

“Pardon?” Ghost barely spared him a glance, and Konig automatically stood, silently confused as to where he was supposed to go. Gaz merely stared up at him.

“I said,” Soap wrapped his hand around Ghost’s bicep and pulled, forcing the man to stand, and Gaz followed. “Get the fuck out.”

“You sendin’ us to bed, then, eh?”

Soap picked up Ghost’s bag for him, and shoved it into his chest, nearly pushing the men up the stairs.

“I am.” He turned to Gaz, his mouth already open to protest, and pointed a finger in his face. “If you fuck this up for me, I will end you.”

The second the three men shut the door to their respective rooms, you stepped back into the house, locking the backdoor behind you.

I raised an eyebrow at the television, and grinned at Soap.

“Did you turn on the news?” I ask, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of wine from cabinets, pouring us both a fairly full glass.

“Yeah, it’s a new form of foreplay.” He laughed, taking a sip. “Learnin’ that we world is shite.”

“Oh, so foreplay is important to you?” And that question was your first step. He glanced at you from across the kitchen island, and you could just see the gears in his mind turning, figuring out the best way to get himself into your bed. Honestly, he could have asked to bend you dead over the kitchen counter, his large hand pulling your hair as leverage as he thrusted into you from behind.

But your imagination always runs wild.

“Mm. ‘S very important.” You cocked your head at his answer, and he shrugged. “I prefer to have a girl simply beggin’ before I even think of finishing.” He took a step around the island, not quite in front of you, but leaning on the side. You sipped your wine again, trying to cover your reaction to his answer, but there was no wine glass big enough to cover how you pressed your legs together, one hand gripping the counter with slightly more force than necessary.

“How do you do that?” It was an effort to keep your tone even , trying not to show how badly he was affecting you.

“Eh.” He set his wine glass down, finger lightly circling the base of the stem. “Usually have ‘em coming a few times before I get my own.”

Holy fuck. You needed Soap, and you needed him bad.

“Ah, so only good reviews then?” Damnit, why is your voice suddenly higher? You cleared your throat to try to get it to return to normal, and the fucking bastard smirked at you.

“So far. Tell me, love.” That damn nickname again. “When was the last time you were fucked?” You opened your mouth to answer, but it didn’t matter as Soap began talking again. “Ah, lemme revise that. When was the last time you were properly fucked? The last time someone had you cryin’, had you just stupid on their cock?”

You were buzzing, shaking slightly at Soap’s vulgar words. His accent got lower, rougher as he spoke, and you could feel your arousal tying a knot in your throat.He simply stared at you, waiting for your answer with a dumb smile on his face, like he already knew.

“Oh, no, don’t tell me…” He began, in mock sympathy. “Never?” You shook your head at him, not wanting to tell him the truth.

In all reality, you’ve never orgasmed with someone else. It was all only you, and you learned quickly not to say this, as all men would try to be the first. Then you’d end the night by lying, and they would go with their egos inflated.

You both stood, the tension in the kitchen more than you could bear, and just as you were about to dismiss yourself for the night, Soap wrapped a hand around your forearm - Not tightly enough to worry you, but just enough so you looked up at him, your faces inches from each other.

“Love, I don’t like to, uh, think I’m all that, y’know?” He cleared his throat. “But I’d like to try. Show some thanks to our host.”

In one last attempt at quieting down your own perverse thoughts, you set your wine glass down, and looked at the floor.

“Ah, you don’t need to thank me Soap.”

“I absolutely do,” He responded immediately. “I really do need to. Nothin’ better than a pretty face while I work.”

You bite the inside of your lip, considering all the ways this could go bad. Every single one was overrun with the way Soap was searching your eyes, silently pleading for you. With a purse of your lips, you poured the rest of your wine down the sink, and smiled.

“Absolutely.”

You barely got the words out before Soap wrapped his arm around your waist and lifted, slinging you over his shoulder and making his way up the stairs, searching for any room that didn’t look like it was already occupied.

“Mine’s on the other end.” You breathed in an effort not to laugh at his eagerness, and he turned on his heels toward a door that was differently painted than the rest. He placed a hand over your head, protecting you from a bump as he ducked through the doorframe, and less-than-gently set you on your bed, locking the door behind him.

When he turned, you didn’t see the sweet man offering to help you with painting, you saw a soldier. A soldier tuned into your every breath, every movement, and every thought. He kneeled in front of the bed, between your legs, and began planting lighter than air kisses on your ankle, untying your shoes and setting them to the side haphazardly.

“Red means stop.” He whispered against your skin, traveling upward to your knee. “Yellow is slow down, green is good. Repeat it.”

“Red is-“ You were cut off by your own gasp as he delivered a light bite to the inside of your thigh before kissing it again, and you could feel him smile against you. “Red is stop. Yellow is slow. Green is good.”

“And where are we now?” He breathed against the spot right where your thigh met your most sensitive area, and you felt your stomach jump.

“Green. So, so green.” A whimper escaped you, and Soap tsked, like he was about to scold you.

“Stay quiet, lass.” Teased Soap, as he slid your shorts down, along with your underwear, and he whistled lowly. “A Chriosd ann an ifrinn, seall ort, a nighean bhòidheach.” And with that, he licked one long, thick strip up your cunt, dipping down to tease your hole with his tongue. Soap was eating you out like a man starved, and you were obsessed.

Light, breathy moans left you, ever so aware of how quiet everything else was.

“Tell me what feels good, love.” He punctuated his command with a nip to your thigh, pulling your mind out of the pleasure-induced haze. His tongue traveled through your folds, eyes trained on you to see your reaction to his ministrations. Soap’s lips wrap around your clit, fingers toying with your soaking entrance, and it felt like all rational thought had left you. You didn’t care about who exactly was between your legs, nor if his team could hear your desperate mewls.

The pressure inside you was building, and your movement was strange - trying to wriggle away from the incessant barrage against your clit, and trying to grind impossibly closer to Soap’s lips, and by his huff, it was clear he had enough of that. One large arm wrapped around a thigh, his other pressing down on your abdomen, and the only noise Soap could muster was a few low groans as he continued devouring you.

The knot inside you was getting tighter and tighter, and it felt like it was going to snap any second. A split moment of panic ran through you as your back arched off the bed, Begs and cries tumbling out of your lips before you could think of them.

“Soap, please, please.” You cried, hands aching from gripping the sheets. “Please don’t stop, please…” Staying true to your direction, Soap was unrelenting against you, the combination of his sucking, biting, and licking at your clit had dizzy spots appearing in your vision. With one hard push on your abdomen, and a particularly slow drag of his tongue at your entrance, you felt that snap, and you finally understood why it was called the Little Death.

Your mind had gone completely blank, mouth open in a silent scream, and your thighs clamped around either side of Soap’s head, where he still had yet to stop drinking you. It felt like your heart had even stopped beating, until the pounding was heard in your ears. As Soap continued, you felt your body lurch upwards, fingers tangling in Soap’s hair until he finally looked up at you, his hand coming back to slide a finger into you.The sudden intrusion forced a gasp from you, and he gently kissed your thigh, where you noticed the ache that predates a bruise.

“How we doin’, love? We okay?” His voice was impossibly sweet, a complete 180 to how he just made you feel. You nodded, despite feeling like every single sense in your body had been blown out. His finger continued sliding in and out of you, your walls pulsing around him.

“Green.” You confirmed breathily, and he smiled a wolfish grin before adding a second digit into you, his pace quickening. A quick flash of aggravation and desperation coursed through you, and you knew how to get exactly what you wanted.

You looked down at him, eyebrows upturned in a pleading look, and your doe-eyes were working overtime.

“Please, Soap, just fuck me.” You said, voice higher and more gentle than you thought it would come out, and he groaned, rolling his head against your leg. His fingers took on a ‘come here’ motion, and your eyes rolled in the back of your head at the feeling.

“Ah, I know what you want. You want these…” Soap planted a kiss on your thighs, interrupting his own speech. “God, these pretty thighs pinned behind your head, taking me so well, takin’ me so good.” He looked absolutely pussydrunk, his eyes darting between your eyes and his fingers, tsking and offering a slight noise of false sympathy when a tear rolled down your cheek. Your walls pulsed around his fingers, and you could feel that fire building inside of you again. “Christ, love, you wanna come again, huh?” You nodded furiously at his question, one hand coming up to absentmindedly play with your tits. A bright look crossed Soap’s face, and while his hands continued, his mouth met your hands.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, and before you could think, he bit down - the orgasm that crashed through you was stronger than the last, and the muscles in your thighs screamed from being clenched so tightly. You felt his fingers work their way out of your pussy, hissing at the feeling of your walls clenching around nothing.

“You want me to fuck you now, pretty thing?” His face was almost smug as he climbed up on the bed, one hand going to your lower back to effortlessly raise you, and he peppered light kisses on your sweat-covered face. Of course you want him, how could you not? Your body was buzzing with the aftershocks of two orgasms, and here he was, lining himself up with you.

“God, yes, please.” You breathed, hands coming to rest on his back. Soap brought his lips down next to your ear, sending another shock straight to your core.

“Beg better.” He punctuated his command by rubbing his cock through your folds, and you twitched when the head ground against your already sensitive clit. Beg better? Fuck you, Soap.

You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you and, hopefully, how serious you looked.

“Fuck me, Soap. Now.”

The simple instruction was all it took for him to push inside you, and it was like it activated something in him - Soap simply could not shut up.

“Ach, mo Dhia, tha thu a 'faireachdainn cho foirfe timcheall orm. So perfect.” He planted a kiss to your temple. “So perfect, my pretty girl.”

You brought your lips up to his neck, kissing the curve where it meets his shoulder, and his babbling only continued as his cock dragged against nearly every nerve, your broken moans echoing through your room. God, his slow pace was nearly agonizing, you wanted more, you needed more. It was like Soap read your mind as he paused, hooking your knees above his shoulders, effectively pinning you into the mattress. He flashed you a wicked grin before he began his jackhammer pace, and this new position had him reaching impossibly deep inside you.

A vague, low ache began in your abdomen every time he bottomed out, his head kissing your cervix every single time. The depth combined with his pace, his groaning and endless praise in your ear - it felt like it was all culminating in a perfect storm, one that was threatening to break down every fibre of your being.

“Fuck, Soap, I’m going to-” You interrupted yourself with a low, hoarse groan, your admission only spurring him on as he replaced his hold on your knees with his hands.

“Look at me, love, I wanna see it, I wanna see you.” His stuttering hips told you he was in the same spot as you, and you both were not going to last much longer. “Come for me, pretty girl.” He growled, and that was all it took for you.

Your legs shook uncontrollably as you released around him, and your ending brought his own on. Curses left him lips as he buried himself inside you, collapsing next to you.

“Ach, come ‘ere.” He breathed, reaching his arm out to hook around your waist and pulling you to him, one leg wrapping around his waist. One hand rested on your jaw, planting kisses on your forehead, cheek, anywhere he could get access to. Your body felt numb, and you knew he stayed true to his word - you were fucked absolutely stupid. You wanted to talk, you wanted to ask where this left you? Would you ignore that this happened? Would it recur? Would he tell his team about it? You wanted to ask, and yet you didn’t - The song of crickets and his heartbeat was a lullaby, and one that you couldn’t fight.

The snare of sleep overtook you as your heart rate evened out, and only one thought was on your mind before you gave up the fight for consciousness:

You really fucking hope you don’t regret this.

#mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #john mactavish x reader #call of duty fanfic #cod x reader

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angorwhosebabyisthis · 5 days

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copying anon over here because i went to save the ask to my drafts and tumblr sent it directly to the shadow realm, welp:

I dug through your rambles about Hermes, so I'm looking forward to thoughts on Erich with the ancient world's everything lol ~

ahhhh thank you, i'm glad you've enjoyed my rambles so far!! i've been taking the second half of the pandaemonium arc more slowly, partly because i'm been Out of It the last few days and partly because the direction the plotline with erich and lahabrea has taken a turn for has been leaving a really bad taste in my mouth. i've been making my way through it, though, and percolating Deeply on the He and how he and pandaemonium as a whole fit into all this. spoiler alert i love him even more now

(on the one hand, it finally helped me articulate some points that imo make or break an 'abusive parent sees the error of their ways and apologizes up and down and swears to do better, and both that and the context in which the abuse happened leave their victim feeling conflicted about it' arc. so there's that! on the other hand it, uh. it did so by very much being the goofus here lmao, and erich deserved better.)

(the way the whole thing is played off is also just, deeply deeply misogynistic. athena is top-tier nastywoman and i love her for it, and 'mothers--in particular white women, especially to their children of color--can be shitty and predatory and abusive and are accountable for it full stop,' is great abuse rep but fucking WOWZERS)

(which like, i will say that the overtones are not at all lost on me that athena repeatedly goes out of her way to prey on, abuse, and violate not just men of color but black men; dehumanizes them and treats them and their bodies as her property; and is strongly implied to have sexually abused erich in particular. and how the one who gets the brunt of it is her biracial, very VERY not white-passing son, who she isolated from the black side of his family to do whatever she wanted with. it is insanely fucking refreshing to see that shit not cushioned at ALL, and it really sucks that that had to come bundled in with the abuse apologia and misogyny.)

(i am also realizing that this is one of the reasons erich whitewashing, and how common it is in the fandom as well as official art, bothers me so much beyond the obvious. while it's uncertain how much of it was intentional, his narrative evokes not just real-world racism but colorism, and a specific brand of it and how it intersects with abuse. even if just on a doylist level erich was abused for being as dark-skinned as he is, and erasing that is even shittier than your run-of-the-mill whitewashing.)

(anyway. ANYWAY. anyway. all that is a post of its own and i haven't even gotten to the parts about ancient society yet. you see what i mean by having a lot of thoughts about him lmao)

i'm hoping to finish the last leg of the questline tonight so i can start fully putting my thoughts together because god there is SO MUCH, and i'm excited even if i foresee having to grit my teeth through the rest of the moments between him and lahabrea lmao

#final fantasy xiv #ffxiv #ffxiv erichthonios #ffxiv athena #ffxiv lahabrea #thank you anon!! the preview for the notification almost gave me a heart attack and this was really nice to open it and find instead lmao #asks #anonymous #the crit files #ffxivcrit tag #abuse cw #abuse apologia cw #CSA mention cw #SA mention cw #racism cw #incest mention cw #(incidentally athena is a perfect example of why i'm so wary of 'teehee i love evil women and support women's wrongs' in fandom these days)#(it really sucks to have to give so much of Enjoy Fucked Up Lady Blorbos for Being Evil and Stop Holding Double Standards About It)#(fandom such a wide berth; but holy shit it is a *cesspool* of racism and childism and rape/abuse apologia)#(from people who want a single-issue pass to be bigoted; and DARVO and direct harassment at people who try to call it out)#(instead of applying any kind of nuance or intersectionality or critical thought)#(and it's how you get shit like people cheering on their white blorbo's Evil Girl Power for sexually abusing men of color lmao)#(i have conflicted feelings abt both athena's portrayal and erich as abuse rep but holy shit it's been such a relief to see none of that)#(any other fandom would be a radioactive nightmare zone about this and thank fuck it isn't)#ANYWAY i do indeed have Manythoughts about him and am looking forward to being able to put them together cogently #FF tag #ffxivtag #the salt files #warning: worm grass

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lipglossanon · 4 months

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Rain

Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (fluffy drabble)

Warnings: none! just some cute fluff with Leon :3

inspired by real life 🤭 and not proofread ✍️

title from Rain by Breaking Benjamin

“Hey hold up a sec.”

You turn, blinking through the drops of rain slipping from the hood of your jacket as Leon stops beside you on the sidewalk.

You open your mouth to ask why when he crouches down in place. Brows furrowing in confusion, you hold off on saying anything as he reaches down in front of him.

“It’s a worm,” you say aloud without meaning to.

He laughs softly, “Yeah, gonna move’em back to the grass.”

You watch quietly as he tries to wrangle the wriggling little animal in between his fingers.

“C’mon buddy, don’t want you to suffocate,” he murmurs down to it, coaxing it to curl up for a better grip.

Leon uses one hand to gently shift the worm forward into his opposite hand. Watching him go out of his way for something so small makes warmth bloom in your chest like a flower. The rain’s a light drizzle, more like a mist, wetting you both but not enough to make you antsy about getting dry. It’s a wonderfully dreary day and Leon’s taking the time to save a worm on the sidewalk.

He doesn’t see the smile spreading across your face as you watch him finally pick up the worm and set it down on the grassy patch of dirt off to the side.

“Should be fine,” he finally stands and turns to you, “what?” He laughs, returning the dopey smile you’re sure you have on your own face.

“Nothing, you’re cute s’all,” you nod to the path in front of you, “wanna keep going?”

“Of course,” he wiggles his fingers at you, “wanna hold hands?”

You scoff and roll your eyes, nudging him with your elbow when he falls into step with you.

“As if, nature boy.”

#lipglossanon #lipglossmasterlist #drabbles #fluff #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #fem!reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon s kennedy fanfiction #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #short and sweet #fic blurb #blurbs

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hxjikonn · 1 year

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(Artist: @/nemurihm on twtr)

Malleus and Lilia’s Reaction to “would you still love me if I was a worm?”

Malleus Draconia and Lilia Vanrouge x Reader (separate)

Synopsis: Them reacting to GN! Reader’s rather odd question. (Mostly crack) (Malleus confusion 1000) (I got carried away with Lilia’s so it’s really long 😭)

Warnings: can come off as OOC??? I think??? Idk

Malleus Draconia

Was perplexed by your sudden odd question, would first think that it’s a human thing like a joke or somewhat of a test. Still he tries his best not to offend or hurt you so he thinks of an answer even though he feels the smoke coming out of his ears due to him thinking about it too much.

You were laying on the grass beside him as he sat down looking up at the stars with you, it was yet again your usual meeting time outside the Ramshackle dormitory. You enjoy these moments with him and so does he, just being close and spending time together whether that be with you two talking about various things or just comforting silence.

“Tsunutaro…would you still love me if I was a worm?” You blurted out, it was just a random thought, no real meaning behind it…you’d think he’d laugh in amusement or take it as lightly as you are but you were met with silence, causing you to look at the horned fae who was looking right back at you.

“Uhh you good?” You waved your hand in-front of his face, attempting to snap him out of his confused trance. Malleus for once seemed to not have an answer, but of course he didn’t want to disappoint or upset you…so he asked first to make sure…

“Do you wish to be a umm….a worm?” He asked, he would grant it if you did, but He wasn’t sure if you were kidding or you WANTED to be a worm, he finds you unpredictable most of the time after all, you giggled at his question “No of course not, It’s just a dumb question forget about it” you smiled looking back up at the stars.

“I would.” He said, you turn to look at him again questioningly, “would what?” You asked. “I would still love you, I’d take care of you and I’ll even ask Jade for those terrariums to keep you safe in for as long as your worm life may live” He patted your head smiling.

You didn’t expect such an answer, you were just joking, but it made you happy nonetheless. You lay your head in his lap and cupped his face with your hands “You’d really take care of a worm?” You laughed, he leaned into your touch “not just any worm, I’d take care of a YOU worm” he also laughed softly. The rest of the night was just you two laughing about it (mostly you laughing cuz he kept asking you why you wanted to be a worm out of all things)

Lilia Vanrouge

Would be amused by the question, he knew it was a joke so he teased you about it, until you had enough of his teasing and hit him with the nearest object you can find.

You were sitting on his bed curiously looking at the various items scattered in his room, while he played games on his PC, you were used to waiting for him to finish his games before he could spend time with you by now, it didn’t upset or bother you cuz you were pretty much occupied with his little trinkets and artifacts too.

A certain object caught you’re attention, and you were about to examine it when Lilia spoke “Don’t touch that love, you can get cursed into a being hideous beast for all eternity” He warned still having his attention on to the screen in front of him. You pulled your hand back and sank on his bed, making yourself comfy with his pillows and blankets.

“What if I get turned into a worm?” You asked, he laughed “okay and?“ he asked also amused by where this conversation is heading “Well? Would you still love me?” You question, it was stupid sure but you wanted to know.

He fell into a fit of laughter, while he was clicking and scrolling away with his game. “Uhh well let’s see…I’d take you outside in a jar” he started, you were listening eagerly waiting for him to continue, “It’s a picnic date by the lake” he added, you smiled feeling content…

“And then I’d use you as bait to go fish for the food I’d serve in the picnic” he finished and then laughed, you’re smile disappeared and was converted into a frown as you glared at him. “WOW. Okay yeah sure good plan.” You said sarcastically and turned away from him his blanket still wrapped around you.

“I’m joking!” He defended, “okay then what would you REALLY do?” You turned back facing him again, “Okay on a more serious note….” He started again, “Go on…“ you said urging him to continue “I’d probably forget that you were a worm and accidentally step on you” he cackled once again, feeling happy with himself cuz he also won the game he was playing

You threw a pillow at him angrily, He dodged it of course still grinning at you teasingly “You’re an ass” you snapped at him as you rolled away in the corner of the bed back facing to him, he chuckled and climbed on the bed with you, as he inched closer to wrap his arms around your waist.

“I was kidding love~” he cooed, peppering kisses on your shoulder, “uh huh, sure buddy whatever you say.” You spat annoyed at him, he wasn’t fazed at all by this though, in fact he was amused…but it obvious you weren’t so he played into your little game

“If you were to turn into a tiny worm, I would carry you around with me everyday in my palm and show people that my dumb little s/o got turned into a worm” he said, he still didn’t hear any sign of satisfaction so he continued “but, I’d still love my worm s/o and I’d protect them from getting stepped on or eaten by a fish…or a bird….or headmaster Crowley…he looks like a bird so he’s still a threat” he stated earning a giggle from you.

You finally faced him and buried your face in his warmth, “okay you pass….for now” you threatened, he scoffs and shook his head “You humans and you’re little games” he sighs and kisses your forehead “You’re a weird little thing aren’t you?” He pulled you closer an played with your hair “another weird little thing to add to my collection I guess” he chuckled while you slowly gave in to the comfort and took a nap with him.

A/N: AGAIN I DID NOT PROOFREAD THIS 💀 I got carried away with Lilia’s bit but it’s just too cute I couldn’t stop writing 😭

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x yuu #twisted wonderland x mc #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland reaction #twst x reader #twst x yuu #twst x mc #malleus draconia #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader #lilia x reader

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beneathsilverstars · 6 days

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The Traveler And The Pit

(748 words, major ISAT spoilers)

"Once, a long time ago, a Traveler jumped into a pit.

He tried to jump back out, but the pit was too high. He tried to climb out, but the dirt walls crumbled under his fingers.

'Oh no,' they lamented. 'Woe is me! I'm stuck in a blinding pit for some reason!'

But obviously he couldn't expect anything to change if he just sat there lamenting, so he tried climbing again. Digging at the walls, embedding dirt and rock and root under his nails until they chipped and broke. Forming handholds slick with sweat and blood. But he could only dig for so long each day before he collapsed at the bottom of the pit, and each morning when he awoke, his hands were pristine and the walls smooth and straight.

The Traveler dug for a long, long time. They dug until they couldn't remember anything else but the pit. They dug until they forgot that the leaves far above their head were attached to branches and trunks and roots. They dug until their pristine morning nails felt alien. They dug and dug and dug and every handful of dirt that they moved they dumped straight into their soul.

They didn't notice when they started crying. It could have been days or months or weeks or years, but they didn't notice the tears running down their cheeks until the evening that they realized: the pit had turned into mud so thick and wet that they couldn't dig at all anymore. Dirt and tears had mixed and now each scoop slid between their fingers, now the walls flowed to fill each indent, now the floor of the pit sunk under their feet.

They were being pulled in. They would soon drown. And yet, they couldn't stop crying.

'Please!' they cried, 'Someone, anyone, help me!'

The Universe frowned. A Traveler stuck in a pit, huh? That wouldn't do. It would have to send someone to help.

Someone who was an expert on pits, maybe.

The Universe reached down and scooped out the Traveler's insides. The poor thing was full of mud, of course, mud and only mud from head to toe. The Universe scooped all of it up, took the mass of dirt and tears and shaped it into a simulacrum of a person, and stuck a star on top.

'There!' it said. 'A Helper.' And it gently set its creation down in the pit, next to their old body.

Since the Traveler's body wasn't full of mud anymore, it had space for other things again. Things like memories and ideas and plans. The Traveller woke up and he knew what tree trunks were and he wasn't surprised by the cleanliness of his hands. He looked around with fresh eyes, and quickly realized that he was stuck in a pit. He even remembered jumping in.

They tried to jump back out, but the pit was too high. They tried to climb out, but the dirt walls crumbled under their fingers. 'Oh no,' they lamented. 'Woe is me! I'm-'

'Don't bother,' said the Helper. 'Digging doesn't work.'

'Oh,' said the Traveler. 'Hm. I suppose... I'll have to try something else, then?'

The Traveler inspected the pit, and the Helper warned him of the spot where worms would fall out of the dirt onto their head. The Traveler squinted up at the sky above, and the Helper assured him that the weather would never change. The Traveler patted down his pockets, and-

The Helper hadn't remembered that they had pockets.

'Thank you!' said the Traveler, smile wide, eye brimming with unshed tears, rope in hand. 'I never could have gotten out of here without your help!' And he tied a loop in the rope and threw it, and hooked it over a high-up root, and used it to climb up and out of the pit.

The Helper figured, well, they might as well climb the rope too. So they did! They climbed until they stood on solid ground, and they looked around at the tree trunks and the grass and the road that stretched from one horizon to the other. They were out of the pit, and now they could leave it behind forever!

But it didn't matter. No matter how far they traveled, they would still be made out of mud."

The bird chirped, "piou, piou." It pecked at the ground one final time and then flew off.

"Yeah," said Loop, "I didn't think it was a very good story, either."

#well. got possessed by the idea of loop as a pile of memories that got scooped out of sif to make room for sif to be himself again #woe. mini fic be upon ye #in stars and time #isat loop #isat #loop #isat spoilers #silverstarsfic

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lovemyavatar · 1 year

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Just for the Night

Lo’ak x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Part Two

Warnings: (aged up) nsfw, enemies to lovers, angst, arguing, hate-fucking

part one

The skin on the back of your neck prickles with unease, color tinging your cheeks as frustration mounts with each rushed stride through the forest.

You're practically vibrating with irritation, muscles pulled so taunt a dull ache radiates from between your shoulders. You welcome the sting of short nails biting into your palms, reveling in the distraction for only a moment before the scrutiny at your back becomes too much to bear.

“Will you stop that already?” Your lips purse with a low hiss, head turning just enough to send a steely glare toward the man behind you.

Lo'ak glowers at your quickly retreating figure, lips turning downward in displeasure. Long fingers tighten around the woven basket perched on his hip, the mere sound of your voice putting him further on edge.

“I can feel you plotting my murder back there.” You mutter with a roll of your eyes, attention returning to the path ahead.

The weight of his hard stare is palpable. It settles in your gut, twists your insides uncomfortably. Warmth blankets your skin, a heady mix of anger and...something else, something you haven't dared begin to dissect since the night you both crossed a line it doesn't seem you'll be able to come back from.

“Oh, I don’t have to plot, sweetheart. The whole thing’s already planned out.” His voice is rough, lips twitching into a satisfied smirk at the way your spine stiffens.

You whirl around to face him, fists clenching impossibly tighter, eyes narrowed in a fierce glare. Despite your best efforts, he's continued doing what he's best at: worming his way under your skin.

Whatever this is between you—this stifling tension—it's only gotten worse since that night in his family's tent. The lingering looks, the constant bickering...it's driving you crazy. Not a single day has gone by without some altercation with the youngest Sully brother.

Despite years of this back and forth, you aren't accustomed to the cold, unreadable wall that Lo'ak has built around himself since that night. It makes you uneasy, has you questioning if there may be some deeper issue he has with you, past the point of friendly competition.

“Charming.” Your nose wrinkles with an insincere smile, a scoff falling from your lips as you turn away from him again.

“You always do this." A humorless laugh echoes through the trees as you near your destination. Lo'ak jogs forward, arm extending to brush away a large leaf from the path, allowing you to duck through into the clearing first. “Get all mad as if it's not your fault we're in this position.”

You're already facing him as he steps into the plush grass after you, an expression of exasperated shock etched into your features.

“You're joking, right?” Wide eyes scan his lithe form, taking note of the way strong arms cross so casually over his broad chest.

He can't possibly think this is your fault. You were simply minding your own business, as usual, when he appeared and started bothering you. Kiri was at your side, the two of you helping prepare for the midday meal, chopping various vegetables for the clan.

Less than a minute after Lo'ak plopped down onto the rock only inches from yours, the fighting was unbearable for your best friend. She disappeared with the typical departing insult—calling you both skxawngs (idiots) with a soft sigh.

Truthfully, you don't even know how it started. You never do. Somehow, despite your best efforts, the two of you always end up right here. Harsh words and cold glares exchanged until one of you snaps and stalks off, only for the cycle to repeat the next time you see each other.

“I know you're used to getting away with everything, but you should know by now that I see through the good girl act.” Lo'ak's head tilts to the side, tail swaying with ease at his back.

Despite the volatile nature of your relationship, he's never stopped watching you. He's tried, he really has, to leave you alone—to keep his wandering eyes at bay. But you're always there, always so close yet still out of reach.

It's his own fault, and he knows it, but the fact does little to lessen the sting.

“What are you talking about?” Something ignites in Lo'ak's chest at the flare of heat in your golden eyes. It eggs him on, pushes him closer to the line he's always toeing, between good-natured bickering and actual fighting.

“Oh, please. The clan's precious little angel, used to getting whatever she wants.” His voice drips with mockery, and it makes a wave of embarrassment wash over your cheeks. “And you can't stand that I don't like you.”

Lo'ak's feet move on their own accord, bringing him a step closer with each harsh word. He has no idea what he's doing, doesn't know what's possessed him to take it this far, but he's just so...fed up. He's tired of this push and pull, tired of warring with himself every time you're close.

He can't stand you, and yet, he aches to be near you. His heart yearns for yours in a way he's never experienced with anyone else. In a way he hasn't been able to shake since the very moment he realized his feelings for you breached well past platonic.

It was only a breath later that he decided he would never have you. Decided it would be best to push you away, to protect his fragile heart from the surety of your rejection. Because, even at such a young age, he knew it would never work. He'd long been labeled the trouble child, the rebel, the one who ruins everything he touches...

And how could he bear to bring you down with him?

A surprised laugh bubbles in your chest, and you move back, desperate to put some distance between you. It's clear, what he's insinuating. That you're the instigator, the one to blame for the argument that got you into this mess in the first place.

Regardless of who threw the first verbal punch, Lo'ak's father—your Olo'eyktan—was not the least bit happy. He stormed toward the two of you without hesitation, sternly hissing that you were drawing attention to yourselves. Bringing shame to your families.

His words settled heavily in your heart, made your ears flatten with shame. But he was right. It only took a single glance toward your father, standing just a few feet behind Jake, to notice the disappointment gleaming in his eyes.

As the Olo'eyktan's closest confident, he has an image to uphold. Which, in turn, means that you do too. And typically, you're an exemplary member of the clan. You pull your own weight, help others whenever possible, and keep to yourself otherwise.

But there's just something about Lo'ak that makes you forget all duty and responsibility in the name of defending yourself, of proving that you're not some wallflower. That you're worthy of being noticed.

Jake quietly ushered you both off to collect some fruit for lunch, ordering that you not return until you've figured out how to get along.

“Are you actually that self-absorbed? You really think I'd waste my time trying to get at you?” You peer up at Lo'ak in disbelief, a flash of anger making your heart beat just a fraction faster.

“Drop the innocent act. It's just me, and I've already seen the real you. Can't get much worse than that.” He regrets the words the instant they leave him, jaw clenching at the way your lips part in surprise.

He's taken it too far. That much is clear, if the pained glimmer that washes over your eyes is any indication. It's gone in an instant, replaced with the fiery anger he's used to. Your ears twitch, tail snapping, a clear display of your animosity.

“If I’m the clan's angel, what does that make you? Clan screw up?” Your hands curl into fists and you take a small step forward.

The air between you is sharp, jagged edges of your tattered friendship hanging by a thread. You can't help but lash out, even if the insult has your own heart cinching in your chest.

It was a low blow, and it's obvious you've hit a nerve. Your chest heaves as you watch the words settle over him, watch his expression crumble before turning hard as stone again within seconds.

Lo'ak's tail twitches to attention against his spine, before swishing from side to side harshly. His breath hitches, heart racing with an overwhelming mix of emotion.

It washes over him in wave after wave, an onslaught of anger, frustration, crushing sorrow. Because after all this time, you finally see him for what he truly is.

What he fears he'll always be.

“At least I actually contribute. You can’t do anything without daddy hovering right behind you. How pathetic.” He crowds the remaining space between you, towering over you, chin dipping as his eyes narrow into a harsh glare.

He looks downright menacing, not an ounce of warmth in his expression. A soft gasp falls from your lips, moisture blurring your vision. He's breathing heavily, chest nearly touching yours as he fights to slow the violent thrum of his heart.

You peer up at him, equal parts rage and hurt swirling deep within your belly until you can't take it for even a second longer. One of your hands rears back, but before you can land a hit on his cheek, he snatches your arm out of the air.

Long fingers curl around your wrist, his hold gentle but firm. The feeling of his skin on yours sets you ablaze, fans the flame of desire that's been building within you since that night. This is the first time he's touched you since then, and though it was only in an act of self-defense, the warmth from his palm has you reeling.

“I hate you.” You voice wavers, the proclamation nothing more than a broken whisper.

“Good.” His jaw clenches, your spiteful words only spurring him on.

He pulls you forward roughly, capturing your lips with bruising force. You stumble into him, body responding without hesitation despite the weak internal protests warning against falling into this pattern with him.

The pressure on your wrist disappears, instead moving to your hips as both of his hands circle your waist. A gasp tears your lips from his as rough bark bites into the skin of your back. You hadn't even realized you were moving, too distracted by the burning heat of his lips on yours.

Lo'ak devours you like a man starved. His kiss isn't sweet, it isn't tender. It's all tongue and teeth, a explosion of pent up tension that's been brewing for years. A shiver rolls down your spine, and you arch into him, pressing your chest flush to his.

Your tongues battle for dominance, ragged breath mingling as you both pour every ounce of distain for each other into the kiss. One of your hands lifts, fingertips smoothing over the side of his neck to draw him in.

You hold him there gently, a quiet moan spilling into his mouth despite your best efforts to keep any noises at bay. Warring desires clash in your mind. You want to shove him away, and pull him closer all at once. He's so infuriating, so intoxicating, and you're far too under his spell to escape now.

Within seconds, your loose hold is ripped away as he cages your hand against the tree, holding it above your head. You can't help the way your hips writhe along his, a breathy sound falling from your lips when you feel the stroke of something hard against your soft heat.

You respond by tangling your free hand into his braids, tugging harshly just to see his reaction. His head jerks back at the unexpected sting, a rough growl rumbling his lungs. Your hips rut against his again, the vibration of his chest on yours settling hotly between your legs.

A wave of pleasure washes over him, the color of his cheeks deepening. His eyes snap to yours, narrowed in warning before he leans forward, nipping at your bottom lip lightly. An involuntary whimper escapes you, hold on his hair tightening.

A low moan falls from his lips, a shaky breath fanning your face as he staggers back a step. Your lips chase his, seeking the heat of his touch before your mind has a chance to catch up. The two of you stumble blindly, an uncoordinated dance of passion as you desperately fight to stay connected.

This continues until one of Lo'ak's heels catches on an upturned root, sending him crumpling to the ground. His arms slide around your middle, caging you to his chest as his tailbone takes the brunt of the fall. He grunts against you, lips still ravaging yours without skipping a beat.

The slight ache from the fall is instantly forgotten as you mount him, spreading your legs so his body easily slots between them. His head tilts back at the sensation of your plush skin on either side of his hips, a shudder wracking his chest when your hands begin exploring his skin.

Your fingertips trail along his chest, over trembling abs, all the way down to the hardened length still trapped beneath his loincloth. When your touch ghosts over his cock, he jerks, his hips rutting into your hand. A breathy moan falls from his lips, followed by a shaky gasp when you do it again.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Your lips twitch into a smirk against his, earning you a low growl.

“Shut up.” He hisses, long fingers curling around your throat.

The hold is possessive, and oh so dominant, a show of control even though he's the one beneath you. He pulls you forward, claiming your lips harshly again. A shiver rolls down your spine, and you can't help but drag your soaked core over his cock.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He gasps, lips ripping from yours as his head falls back, eyes fluttering with a surge of pleasure. His hands fall to your hips, his hold tight as he presses you down onto him, guiding your movements.

“Take this off.” Your chest is heaving, breath ragged as you hurriedly tug at the strings of his loincloth.

His lips curve into a lopsided grin, though another moan rumbles his chest when your hips roll along his cock again. “That desperate already?”

“Don't.” Your voice drops in warning as you successfully undo the knot, before practically ripping the material from his body.

It's quickly discarded, leaving you with nothing to do but dissect his cock with heavy-lidded eyes. It's bigger than you imagined, slapping against his stomach as it stands fully erect.

Something warm and unwelcome blooms deep within Lo'ak's chest, as he watches you. Wide eyes, flushed cheeks, plump lips parted with wonder as you take him in for the first time.

He's quick to flip you over, to lay you gently onto the soft grass. His palms press into the earth on either side of your head, supporting his weight as he takes a moment to gaze down at you. He can't help it, the way his eyes lock onto yours, pouring out every last bit of his usually tightly shackled emotions.

Having you beneath him like this is something he's fantasized about for years, and even now, he's not quite sure that it's real. He's tried so hard to push you away, to wedge so much distance between you that this could never be a possibility. And yet, here you are, more beautiful than ever...and all his.

He rips his gaze away, warmth blanketing his face. He deftly unties your loincloth with one hand, slipping it down your legs smoothly. His palm skims along the outside of your calf, sending a shiver down your spine.

When he reaches your thigh, he gives it a firm squeeze before hooking his fingers behind your knee and urging your legs apart. A deep moan rumbles his chest at the sight of your glistening pussy, fingers moving to drag along the trail of slick coating your inner thighs.

“Goddamn, you always get this wet when we fight?” He rasps, only half joking. The mere idea of you so hot and bothered by him, by your frequent disagreements, has his cock throbbing in anticipation.

“Stop. Talking.” You hiss, the color of your cheeks deepening with arousal and embarrassment alike.

Lo'ak gives his cock a few strokes as he aligns himself with your entrance, dragging his swollen tip along your soft folds. You arch into him, a quiet moan falling from your lips. The sound has his gaze snapping to yours again, breath lodging in his throat.

Suddenly, this position feels too intimate. It tightens his chest, makes his stomach flip with conflicting emotion. A deeply seeded desire within his heart urges him to take care of you, to allow whatever this is between you blossom into something real. Something warm and soft, unlike the cold bitterness that's been festering for years.

It's all too much. Too good to be true.

So, instead, he grips your waist and roughly flips you over, hauling you onto your hands and knees before him.

“Lo'ak—” You gasp, surprised at the unexpected movement.

“Thought you said no talking?" His teeth clench so hard he fears they may shatter, but he welcomes the ache as he easily slides into your waiting pussy.

You cry out, arms already trembling, nearly collapsing onto the grass at the burst of pleasure. Lo'ak's eyes pinch closed, hands gripping your hips with bruising force as he slams his entire length into your sopping pussy. He groans when he bottoms out, tip pressing firmly into your womb.

You're a mess before him, reduced to a string of moans and whimpers as he drills into you mercilessly. Your back bows, head dropping between your arms when your lower belly tightens. His head falls back, a low growl echoing through the clearing as your silky walls flutter around him.

He doesn't give you even a second to rest, maintaining a brutal pace as he chases his high. One of his hands smooths over your lower back, pressing into it to force a deeper arch. It continues trailing upward, until his fingers tangle in your braids, jerking your head back firmly.

Sharp teeth catch his lower lip, restraint tightening his chest as he fights to hold back mounting pleasure. All you can do is whimper meekly, the sting in your scalp pushing you closer to a quickly approaching orgasm. Moisture pools in the corners of your eyes, his roughness too much and not enough all at once.

This is what you expected from him, and yet, it's better than you could've imagined. The way he handles you, bends you to his whim, it has your pussy spasming around his cock all over again.

“Fuck.” Lo'ak rumbles, his free hand snaking around your stomach, fingers expertly finding your clit.

You jolt at the sudden explosion of pleasure, the mere swirl of his fingers over your overworked pussy throwing you into an intense release. A series of sharp moans echo through the trees, every muscle in your body tensing before you shatter around him.

Lo'ak suddenly jerks his cock free, the abrupt emptiness jostling your trembling form as he pumps his cock, riding out his orgasm with an arm still firmly wrapped around your middle.

Silence falls between you, thick and uncomfortable as the weight of what you've just done settles over you both. You fight to catch your breath, pushing yourself up and out of his hold with shaky limbs. You avoid the sharp glare you can feel prickling against the side of your head, eyes scanning the area for your loincloth.

“That's never happening again.” The words aren't nearly as strong as you would've hoped, the slight quiver in your voice betraying the turmoil raging within.

Being with him like that, it was...good. Too good. It felt right, like the two of you should've been doing this for years, rather than pushing each other away at every opportunity. It's planted a seed of doubt in your mind, made you wonder what it could be like to let him in, to explore the possibility of being more.

It's a dangerous thing, hoping for something like that.

“Obviously.” Lo'ak is quick to agree, averting his eyes as you shakily stand to your full height and pull your loincloth back on.

By the time he's retrieved his own clothing, you're gone. A rough sigh caves his chest, disappointment lodging deeply within his gut. Some part of him, however small, thought maybe things would be different after what you just did.

He runs a hand down his face, replacing his practiced mask of indifference before he'll have to face you again.

The walk back to Home Tree is silent. He doesn't approach you, instead he maintains a wide birth between you, trailing your tense silhouette from a distance. When he breaks through the tree line a few seconds after you, his irritated groan has your head whipping around.

Your eyes widen, silently asking him to corroborate whatever story you've just told before your attention returns to his father.

“Lo'ak.” Jake's arms are crossed tightly over his chest, a signature look of disapproval etched into his strong features. “Did you two work it out?”

“Uh…yeah.” He winces, rubbing at the back of his neck as a wave of uncertainty makes his stomach twist.

Had you? Or did he only make things worse, like he always does?

Jake's eyes narrow, flicking between the two of you for several seconds. He notes the absence of any fruit, which is the entire reason he sent the two of you into the forest in the first place. That, coupled with your disheveled hair and Lo'ak's crooked loincloth, tells him everything he needs to know.

“Alright. Dismissed.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, a sigh of exasperation filling the space between you.

You're quick to scurry off, practically running away the very second you're given permission. Lo'ak's gaze remains locked on your retreating figure until it disappears into the center of Home Tree. His head drops, eyes closing as he considers the consequences of what you've just done.

He only makes it one step before Jake grips his arm, gently pulling him back.

“Not you, boy. We need to have a talk.”

@youcantseem3 @neyetams @pandorxxx @daiyuu27 @taleiak @neyetams @mrslandryy @superiorbyfar

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cameronspecial · 5 months

Note

what if there were several moments that Zach Maclaren loves Y/N for the first time he saw her, Y/N loves him too but she doesn't admit, like she pretend that she hate him and he knows that it's the opposite of what she feels, that she hides her feelings for him. So he's patient.

Inspired by a song "True Love" by P!nk ft. Lily Allen <3

The Line Between Love And Hate

Pairing: Zach MacLaren x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.5K

A/N: I hope this is okay. I wrote it more based off of the song than what you suggested.

Masterlist

Y/N never understood why they say there is a fine line between love and hate. She knew what love felt like because of her family and past boyfriends. She knew what hate felt like because of all the douchebags catcallers and self-centred women. But when Zach MacLaren came along, she had to reimagine her belief in the saying. Hate was all she felt for him at first. Hate for his smug smile. Hate for the way that he can charm any girl. And hate especially for the way he can push every single one of her buttons. They had been assigned as partners for a group project. All he could do was flash her his signature smirk and ask her useless questions. “If you had to be a type of wine, what kind of wine would you be? I would be a merlot because I’m so smooth?” “Do you think worms can love?” “Do you think my eyes are pretty?” It irked her so much, but a part of her wanted to giggle. They were certainly unique questions that she wanted to answer.

That was how they met two years ago. Slowly over time, she realizes the hate she feels for him might board more towards love. He has been away for a week because of a soccer match at a different university and she finds herself missing his annoying presence in their shared class. Sports Anatomy doesn’t seem as interesting if Zach isn’t by her side, trying to get her to laugh at his stupid jokes about the professor. She misses being able to snap at him to be quiet and receive a grin from him.

She is walking to her next class when a pair of hands cover her eyes. “Guess who?” he teases. Her lips let out a sigh as she turns to face him. She doesn’t know if she should strangle him because he is going to make her late for class or wrap her arms around his neck to bring him in for a hug. She hadn’t smelt freshly cut grass in so many days. She settles for neither, punching her fist into his biceps. “You are so annoying,” she complains. Her journey to class continues with him following her like a puppy. He shakes his head, “Come on, you know you missed me while I was gone.” “If you mean missed as in I enjoyed my time without having the see your bothering face, then you would be correct,” she quips. He chuckles, “You keep telling yourself that, Baby. You may think you hate me, but I can see the truth in your eyes. You love me. I’m a patient man. I can wait until you come to the realization yourself. I’ll see you later, Baby.” He departs from her tail with a kiss on her cheek that leaves a bubbling sea in her stomach.

How can she crave the presence of someone who can flip every one of her switches to be on for aggravation? She has to admit there can only be one answer. It must be true love.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @victory-in-the-llama

#the other zoey #zach maclaren #zach maclaren x reader #zach maclaren x y/n #zach maclaren fluff #drew starkey #drew starkey imagine #drew starkey x reader #drew starkey fanfiction #drew starkey one shot #drew starkey fic

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zwolfgames · 6 months

Text

Yandere!various!That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime x gn!cat!reader

Requested: JosephCruz118

(Warnings: Forced marrige, neko reader, reincarnation.)

(3rd person POV)

Welp, there it went. The end of your life.

Just like that.

A strange way to begin, but thats what happens in the tragidy that is your life.

You were graduating, finally, after years of being a student, you could walk out of this building and live.

Well... Your classmates would. But you just so happned to get the short end of the stick.

You were simply walking down a hall, when some... pshycothic man pushed you out of the open window.

Sending you pummeling down three stories.

The last things you heard were some disgusting cracks and screams... just screams.

Embracing the sudden coldness of the world, you felt life leaving you.

'Wish I'd have landed on my feet for once in my damm life... Maybe feel loved for once...' Your last toughts echo trough your head, a thumping pain in your cracked skull.

And then it all just fades.

Thats it, the end of Y/N L/N.

Missed by many, but never got far in life.

--------

A fresh breath of air enters your lungs.

You shock awake, laying on a warm grassy field. The green blades carresing your skin as the wind moves them.

The sun shines brilliantly above you, almost blinding you as you flutter your (e/c) eyes open.

'What in the fuck-knuckles is this bright nonsense?' You squeeze your eyes shut once more and groan in displeasure. This was not what you wanted to see in death.

You once again open your eyes, feeling a bit light sensetive at the moment. But you hold your hand to your forehead, blocking out the suns harsh rays.

After a moment of adjusting to the new lighting, you take your hand away and look around.

Big grass field... Surrounded by forest. Huh, what a strange afterlife.

You take another breath of fresh air, crisp... crisp air. No pollution noticable.

'Yea... Now hold up a minute.' You talk to yourself in your head, standing up and looking at your hands. No blood, no rocks or dirt.

Yea, somethings wrong here.

Especially that elongated feeling in your tailbone. Weird.... thats new-

Oh my god its a tail!?

You screech in confusion and grab the fuzzy thing. Slender but long, standing to make sure you keep balance. No no no! The afterlife turned you into a cat(girl/boy/YN)! A damm furry!

Some birds hiding in the grass fly away at your noise, some almost touching the top of your head.

If you had a tail then... oh no..

Your hands quickly reach for your head. And yep, two cat ears. Actually, biologically, on your head. You even felt them twitch in your hands.

After cringing for a good two minutes you calmed down and just accepted fate. It could have been worse, you could have been a worm.

So... what to do now? You couldn't just stay on this random grass field for the rest of your afterlife...

Or maybe thats what you've been sentenced to, grassfield duty.

Were they expecting you to chomp grass like a cow? Who knows... Where are the instructions? You would like to read them.

But no instructions came... reminds you of school projects...

You sigh and begin walking... towards... well, forwards. Where does this go? Into that forest? Yes.

But what else were you supposed to do. Wait around like a dumbass. No thanks.

So there you went, walking trough the thick grass towards the even thicker forest.

Birds greeted you with chirps as you entered the foliage. Forest greens filled your vision as you stepped trough a bush. Getting little unnoticable cuts on your exposed legs.

But.. It was peacefull. Birds, insects. The noises of nature really made this place feel real. was this even the afterlife?

A vision maybe?

Or... were you reborn?

How silly would that be-

"Watch out!" Some loud shrill voice alerts you of a quickly incoming troll or something on a.. on a wolf.

You jump aside and the wolf rider passes you.

He brings the wolf to a stop and hops off, walking back towards you. Ah, not a troll, this looks like a goblin, if you can trust those movies you've seen.

"Hey?" You wave awkardly. The shorter goblin smiles brightly with his two tusk like teeth.

"Hey! I haven't seen you before! Are you an adventurer?" The goblin asks exitdely.

"Not.. really. i'm a bit lost. Where is this?" You ask, it feels as if your voice has barely seen use. As if its all new. As if this body is new.

Maybe it is.

"You don't know where you are? Well, you're in the Jura forest right now. I'm from Rimuru City, I can take you there, maybe you'll be able to orient from there?" The little goblin offers you with a friendly smile.

You nod, not that cautious as you should have been were this your old life. YOLO, am i right?

The goblin helps you onto his giant wolf and you hold on, like asked. The big canine speeds off trough the forest and you feel alive for once, wind in your face, cutting against your face like sharp yet harmless blades.

After a bit of running around on the wolf, you reach a nice looking medival village, lots of fantasy looking monsters running around, building things and working.

Well damm... This looks better managed then soceity.

The goblin that lead you here looks behind him to check up on you, to see if youre still on the wolf before enetering the crowd and bringing you somewhere.

He brings you all the way to what seems to be the towns centre. Gesturing for you to hop off here.

You hesitantly nod, awkardly smiling at the goblin as a form of thanks.

Welp, now you were in a random city, full of magical looking monsters and whatnot.

You hear the magical residents go about their day, smells of foods, contruction and just random things fill your weirdly sensetive nose.

Just as you were about to enter the building in front of you, as it looked like a town hall, you felt a squishy thing bump against your leg.

You look down, eyes widening at this small, light blue slime. Tapping your leg for attention.

"Uh... Can I help you?" You ask it in confusion, not reallu expecting it to react.

"Yes! You're new, aren't you? I'm Rimuru! Welcome to my city!" The blue slime speaks. It speaks!

"I.. yes? My name's Y/N." You awkardly repsond to the talking slime- Rimuru. What wonders does this world have in store for you?

"Great! I'll show you around!" Rimuru speaks in an exited manner... but he doesn't have a mouth... Telepathy, maybe?

Whatever. That day, Rimuru showed you around his city full of fantasy folk. Introducing you to all kinds of people, some of his trusted compagnions and whatnot.

But thats... how you ended up like this...

----------------

"Y/N. You can't go. Whats wrong with the village? We can give you everything!" Benimaru protests as he catches the arm holding your bag. The tall kijin holds onto you desparatly.

After three months of living in this village, you got to know pretty much everyone. And let's just say, they really like 'the cute demi-cat'.

Wich is why, when you planned to finally go explore some more of this weird world. You got met with a lot of complaints.

They've already set up guards by the city exits, you've been monitored for the past two days and now Benimaru was here to personally stop you.

"Let go, I just want to explore." You sigh, done with this weird protection you're receiving.

"No can do orders from the boss... that I absoluty agree with. You aren't ready for the rest of this world." The kijin repeats those lame words. He's grinning like always, just happy to be able to hold you.

Your ears flatten on your head and he 'awws'. How agitating.

"Come on, just stay and let me pet you!" The red kijin coees and sets you back down in your house. A babyproofed house.

Wich was annoying as hell! You didn't even get a knife sharp enough to cut the crust off your bread!

Benimaru takes the liberty of ruffling your hair. He's what you'd call... a big brother. Only diffrence, is that this one doesn't let you do stupid things.

But he wasn't the worst.... You'd say Rimuru was the most peacefull.. But Shuna was determined to get you to marry her.... And Gabiru had the idea that you were his bestest friend ever.

Wich is a reason to why you weren't allowed to leave. The people in the city got too attached to you. Maybe they found you friendly?

But whatever the reason, you wanted out. They didn't let you do anything dangerous! Wich sounds stupid but you wnated to go explore too!

As if sensing your toughts, Benimaru grabbed yoy into a bear hug, his form engulfs you, you're barely visible. He loves it like this.

"Let go." You demand, voice muffled by his sleeves.

"No." He smiles down at you, nuzzeling his head into your hair.

You huff in annoyance. All this attention was nice... for a week. But it's as if they never, ever got bored of you.

It seemed impossible in your head. No-one takes intrest in you for this long.

Yet these fantasy people did. And it was weird. Like they had it all planned out.

Wich they did, but you didn't know of the plan. Wich Rimuru vowed to keep that way. He knew of the dangers of the world, and you weren't ready.

Better off with him and his friends.

You get snapped out of your toughts by the door of your house opening, speak of the devil. Rimuru. In his human form, today.

"Y/N! I see you've changed your mind yes?" He smiles at you, the... well... you still didn't figure out his gender... but since he said he used to be a man.. in his past life.. you just rolled with that because They/them takes longer to write.

"No, I'm just.... being blocked, at the moment." You speak from between Benimaru's arms as he doens't plan to let go any time soon.

"Well thats a shame. Don't you like it here?" Rimuru asks with a pout. Golden eyes looking straight at you.

"I do, i just want to see more." You asnwer what you always do. But ofcourse he just shakes his head.

"You're not going to." Rimuru answers back, a dark tone to his voice for the first time since you met him.

You try to protest but Benimaru clasps a hand over your mouth to stop it.

You lick his hand but he doesnt relent. Rimuru chuckles at your annoyed expression.

"Don't try. Y/N, if you don't stay willingly... You'd make a lot of my friends sad." Rimuru speaks in a belitteling tone. walking up to you and petting your head dismissivly.

You let out muffled sounds of protests, squirming against Benimarus limbs as hes holding you down.

"Fine then, we'll lock your house down from now on. Is this what you wanted?" Rimuru snarkily tilted his head. You didn't recognise him like this. He's always been so friendly. But now, with those scary dulled eyes on the cutesy face... he's just offputting.

You made your protests known by a harsh glare. But he just smiled. You were really getting pissed off! You were an adult for god sake! No matter these cat features! This was dehumanizing!

Rimuru left, taking Benimaru with him. You heard the lock click into place. The windows had never been able to open... so..

But what they didn't know, was that you were a great lockpicker. Being bored in middle school was bound to pay off at some point!

So when it got dark out, and all these annoyances went to bed. You took that little metal hairclip and got to work. These fantasy people didn't know how to make complicated locks. So it wasn't that hard.

And bam, door open, Y/N free!

So you just sneak out of your house, taking some food with you, along with the non cutesy clothes they've provided you with.

Atleast being half cat gave you great stealth. No-one would hear you.

So you left Rimuru city. Into Jura forest and just... Wherever you wanted to go.

Ofcourse, you had been thankfull for their hospitality for a while, You mean, modern soceity would have let you rot on the streets. But still, locking someone in a house? Crazy.

The leaves crunched under your feet and you were getting paranoid that you'd leave a trail for them to find.

You sped up your pace, hoping to find somewhere else to hide. A cave maybe? A difrent city?

But no, you ended up meeting monsters. Lots of them. They chased you down, tired you out. You felt like real prey for once.

You hid in a tree and stared at these savage beasts as they kept patrolling under the tree. You couldn't get out. Trapped once again. But not as comfrotable.

But not for long. As morning broke out, the warm rays hitting your cold face after a night out in the tree, you heard sniffing.

And it wasn't from the monsters.

Before you knew it, they were all torn to shred by Ranga, Rimuru's wolf compagnion. Shit! He tracked you down!

Rimuru was on his back, in slime form. He devoured the tree you were in and turned human just to catch you in a ridiculously tight grip.

He seemed mad, stressed. Not a word was exchanged as he set you on Ranga and rode back to the city. Harsh grip around your waist.

"Y/N. You. Don't. Get. To. Leave." Rimuru whispered to you as you arrived back at the village.

You expected him to throw you back into your house but he too kyou to his living quarters instead.

Tugging you along to one of the many rooms. Opening a wooden door, the overpowered slime set you on the soft bed and clicked some magic restraints to your wrists.

"This is your own fault. Ok?" Rimuru spoke darkly.

"You'll marry Shuna and Souei. You'll stay put and let us ake care of you. You hear me? This world is dangerous, and you weren't granted powers like I was." Rimuru explains with a serious face. He wanted you to marry two kijins!? Two?! Whatn to tie you to this place?

"I'm not getting married-" You started but he shut your mouth.

"You are. They keep whining about it and why not? You deserve some love, don't you think so?" He grins. You were genuinly scared of the slime at this point. This sounded way too creepy.

"You wouldn't want Gabiru to miss his best friend, would you? Or Benimaru to miss his adorable little sibling? Don't you get how dear yo uare to everyone?" Rimuru carresses you cheek softly. What kind of manipulation is this bitch pulling on you?

But you were afraid of talking back. This boy could pulvorize you ten times over.

So you reluctantly nod. Maybe... Maybe you could get used to living here? Its not like they hurt you...

Rimuru immeadiatly turned bubbly and cute again as you nod. Smiling brightly and patting your head before he leaves again.

The door clicks to a locked state and you slowly pann your gaze over to your cuffed wrists. They glow in the sunlight coming from the thick looking window.

'What the hell just happned?' You deadpann at the floor, needing a moment to register what just got decided for you.

You'd be stuck with these crazy sicko's forever!

A nightmare, really, being taken care off and loved. ew, who would like that-

Wait a minute.

Now hold up.

Well it may have been nice if you liked being stuck in a room. But nu uh. You were an adventurous cat!

The universe granted you a second life and you weren't going to waste it in the position of a docile house husband/wife!

But... You never got your adventure. Married off to two Kijin.

Intertwined with all these people you had grown to know.

If only they had liked you... a normal amount.

Then you could have lived a seconds life.

This could barely be called that.

This was.... The life of a doll. It had to be. Put on display and loved by all, owned by all.

Thats what you'd always be.

A cute cat, to be cuddled and coddled.

Nothing else...

_____☆_____

I think I went braindead while writing this twice.

Sorry for the late-ness! School has been killing me, last year isn't a damm joke.

I hope this was readable!

Have a nice day/night!

_____☆_____

Words: 2712

#yandere #soft yandere #tw yandere #yandere x reader #that time i got reincarnated as a slime #yandere that time i got reincarnated as a slime #yandere oneshot

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topazy · 7 months

Text

Teen spirit

Pairing: Carl Grimes × reader, Maggie Greene × sister reader

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter: 5.05

Your eyes sting as more tears fall from them. You wipe them away with the back of your hand, then pull your knees up to your chest. You let out a shaky breath. Three weeks had passed since Beth died in Atlanta, and since then the group had tragically lost another member, Tyreese. He died when part of the group split off to see if Noah’s hometown of Shirewilt was liveable, and now your group was heading in the direction of DC.

The town was unlivable and full of nothing but rotten corpses.

Most of the group of survivors you were part of were sitting in the middle of the road, but a few of you had gone off to try and search for water and food in the woods. Since your group had hardly any left, everyone was becoming dangerously dehydrated. The group's mood was at an all-time low, and you had barely spoken in three weeks, only when necessary.

You jump, feeling a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, hey, it’s just me,” Daryl says. “I just wanted to make sure you ate something.”

If you weren’t still in so much pain from grieving, you would have found the humor in Daryl offering you a handful of worms as a meal. A few years ago, you would have run away screaming if a bug even touched your skin, and now you were getting ready to eat the slimy insects without a second thought. You let him place a few worms in your hand. “Thanks.”

“Beth, never shut up about you.”

You say nothing, and you continue to eat in silence.

—

When you returned to meet up with the others along with Daryl, you found out that someone had left bottles of water further up the road with a note saying ‘from a friend’ but nobody drank out of the bottles in case they were poisoned.

You scrunch your nose up at the smell of burning food. Four hungry dogs had run out from the tree line and onto the road, but before they could attack or run away, Sasha shot all of them, which resulted in the animals being skinned and cooked as a meal. Everyone ate aside from you and Noah.

Noah seemed to be too consumed by guilt to eat, and the thought of eating your favorite animal turned your stomach.

You sit the furthest away from the group by yourself until Carl sits down beside you on a dry patch of grass. He nudges your knee with his elbow. “Hey, I got something for you.”

You look at him through tired eyes and say, “Yeah?”

Carl pulls two bracelets made of yarn out of his pocket; they were covered in dirt, but you could still make out the bracelets were a mixture of blue and purple. “I found these while looking for water in abandoned cars a few days ago; I was just waiting for the best time to give it to you. I remember you saying, you used to make friendship bracelets with your mom for the church fundraiser.”

Your eyes become glossy at the memory of sitting on your bedroom floor hours after your bedtime, making them with brightly colored threads and sparkly beads. You hold the wrist out, and Carl puts the bracelet on before tying the ends into tight knots. “They are really pretty,” you say quietly. “Thank you.”

Once yours is securely on, Carl holds up his wrist for you to do the same. “No matter where we end up or how alone we feel, we can just look at these and remember that we will always have someone who has our back.”

For the first time in weeks, you smile.

—

Noticing Daryl going off on his own again, you get to your feet and follow him into the woods, being careful not to step on any of the skeletons on the forest floor. Suddenly he stops walking and says, “Not now, kid, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I know.”

Beth’s death hadn’t just taken a toll on you and Maggie; everyone else in the group who knew her felt her death too, just in different ways. You walk up behind Daryl and wrap your arms around his waist. At first, you think he’s going to shove you off, but he places his hands on top of yours. Daryl was tough, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t fragile like the rest of you.

“When we... after the prison... I’m glad Beth was with you.”

Despite his best efforts to hold it together, a heartbroken sob passes his lips.

You stay like that until you feel the first drop of rain hitting your skin. You let go of Daryl and ran back to the highway. Empty bottles were being placed down to collect the rainwater.

A sense of relief hit you; everyone aside from Maggie and Sasha looked happy. You smile watching as Carl takes off his hat and uses it to shield Judith from the rain; she was crying because her clothes had gotten soaked.

Hearing a loud crackle in the sky, you look up and notice the oncoming storm. “Oh shit.”

Daryl points back the way and says, “I saw a barn; let’s go.”

—

Once the barn was cleared by Rick, Michonne, and Maggie, they gave the rest of you the go-ahead to go in. It didn’t take long for a small to be made and any supplies sought out.

“Hey!” Maggie comes over to you, tucking stands of damp hair behind your ear. “It’s been tough, but we’ve made it this far.”

“I know.”

She kisses the crown of your bed and says, “Try and get some sleep.”

It doesn’t take you long to fall asleep. You and Carl chose to sleep on top of some hay, with Judith safely nestled between you. Most of the adults sit around the fire till late into the night until they fall asleep one by one.

Feeling a chill If you sit upright, it takes your eyes a moment to adjust to the darkness. Everyone else was asleep aside from Judith, who was wiggling on her back. You make sure she’s tucked up close enough to her brother that she won’t roll away and get hurt.

You approach the barn doors held together by a metal chain. You weren’t surprised it was cold with the rain still lashing down. You step closer to the doors to look out and see what damage the heavy rainfall caused, and between the flashes of lighting, you see walkers coming your way.

Stumbling back, you struggled to form a sentence but managed to scream one word, “Rick!”

When the barn door starts to move, you press yourself against it. Seconds later, Daryl is beside you, then Maggie, then Rick. Soon everyone was pushing their full body weight against the doors, waiting for the storm to pass.

#carl grimes x fem!reader #carl grimes/reader #carl grimes x reader #the walking dead #teen spirit #carl grimes fanfic #carl grimes fanfiction #Carl Grimes/you #Carl Grimes x you #carl grimes #the walking dead x reader #the walking dead fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fandom #twd x reader #twd fanfiction #teen spirit 5.05

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