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peachesofteal · 3 months

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Part two the Sassy Series but can be read as a standalone.

Simon Riley/female reader 3.5k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Angst, PTSD, canon typical violence, bombs, blood and injury. Smut, oral sex - fem receiving, praise kink, creampie. Unplanned pregnancy. Everyone is bad at feelings. He's like a bomb. Note: This was never posted to Tumblr, so in honor of the series and to complete the masterlist I decided to clean it up a bit and bring it over here.

The truck is a silent tomb.

Rigid, hard lines of muscle hold themselves still without quiver, eyes darting from the road to the floor, hands to feet. No one speaks. Soap’s fingers tap restlessly on his leg, and occasionally, he peeks around before refocusing his vision on something in the distance, something you’re not even sure exists.

The only one really looking at anyone, is Ghost. He’s staring daggers at you in the rearview mirror, fire blazing in his irises, heat so intense it forces your head down towards your knees. Even Gaz looks away from you now, occasionally nudging his thigh against your own, but keeping his gaze fixed out the window.

You’re fucked.

Simon explodes as soon as you’re all unloaded inside the gates. He detonates like a bomb, raw fury rippling through the air, impact radius large enough that it sends nearly everyone else scurrying. “Sass.” Your call sign is rough on his lips. He motions for you to step away, forcing you out from where you’re lurking close to Soap, rage, and something else, something secret, simmering beneath the surface, something you barely glean a glimpse of when he towers over you.

“Ghost. Listen-“ you hiss, fingers flying to push his hulking body away, anger boiling in your blood. He scoffs, like you’re so easily dismissed. Like you’re a child.

“You’re losin’ it Sass. I don’t know, and I don’t care how you used to operate, but we don’t pull shit like that in the 141.”

“Fuck you, Sim-“

“Don’t use my name right now.” The paint around his eyes is cracked, revealing small swaths of skin, the crinkle of crow’s feet. “You had no idea what you were doing out there!” He yells, and you snap backwards instinctively. “You were operating blind, like a fuckin’ idiot. Cap, and everyone else, seems to think you’re a world class operator but today all I saw was stupidity. Are you stupid, Sass?” His raised voice has captured Soap’s attention, who drifts closer and closer to where the two of stand. “I asked you a question.” Ghost snaps, and you want to melt into the ground.

“No.” you whisper. It’s too much. This is too much.

“Then why would you do something like that?” He snarls, and you shy away. You’ve never seen him like this. You’ve seen him ruthless, cold blooded, laser focused on target. You’ve watched him shove a pistol in another man’s eye socket and pull the trigger, torture someone, and in the same breath, turn around and save a child from a burning building.

But you’ve never seen this. Gunpowder and rage. Metal and carnage.

You’re about to ask him what the hell his problem is when Soap steps between you both, hand out towards Ghost like he’s trying to gentle a scared animal.

“Take it easy, LT.” You use the distraction to make your escape before he can see the tears that are trying slip down your face.

Don’t cry. Don’t fucking cry.

“D’ye wan’ talk about it?” Soap sits with a thud next you, soft blue eyes shining in the setting sun.

“I think you got the gist.”

“LT can be kind of intense, but don’t take it personally.”

Don’t take it personally.

Don’t take it personally that last week he was shoving his cock down your throat, telling you how good you were.

Don’t take it personally that last week, when you woke up sweating and shaking, he pressed his face to yours with a whisper. “Just a nightmare Sass, I’ve got you.”

Don’t take it personally, that five, six months ago in Belize, he was screaming in a field medic’s face, promising to hurt them if you died.

Don’t take it personally.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He shrugs, slapping you on the back playfully.

“Get some sleep, lass.” Across the gap between two tents, Price and Ghost stand with their arms crossed, murmured words drifting on the wind.

Price glances at you. His mouth moves. Ghost nods, and then leaves.

Great.

A day passes, then another.

Then a week, then two.

Ghost- Simon, vanishes from your life. Evacuates whenever he sees you coming. At first, you tried to run him down, tried to corner him, get him to talk to you, but he’s too smart, applying his tactical prowess to his new mission: avoiding you at all costs.

One day, you catch sight of his retreating back around a corner and sprint after him, calling his name, not his call sign.

He ignores you.

He’s not Simon anymore, at least not to you. He’s Ghost.

You give up. You have enough sense to know when you’re not wanted.

“Sassafrass!” Johnny gleefully calls out as you duck into the ten for the briefing. Ghost tenses like he’s just stepped on a landmine, but you roll your eyes. Dickhead. You position yourself as far away from him as possible, just to the right of Soap, out of view.

He doesn’t even look at you anymore, anyway. Not like it matters.

“It’s an easy extraction, get in, grab the target, get out. Don’t over complicate it.” You nod your understanding, and Price gives you a smile. “Sassy, you and Soap will tackle the southeast side of the building from the back door. Gaz and Ghost will come through north. We’ll meet in the middle.” Again, you nod, and Soap grins at you like a goofy faced teenager. “Alright. Let’s load up.” You shimmy your backpack high above your hips and roll your shoulders, partially listening to your partner’s excited, halfcocked thesis on entry tactics.

It's the behavior that catches your attention. The guy looks nervous, skin gleaming with the sickly sheen of anxious sweat, tense and poised, like he’s waiting for something.

You’ve seen it before. Too many times.

“Soap.” You whisper. Your tone is dead serious, and he turns with a question in his eye.

“What’s got ye spooked?” Your gaze flicks over to the guy you’ve flagged. You shake your head, just as your target is swinging his backpack around and unzipping the top pouch.

You try to warn Soap.

You press your comm and try to tell the 141.

You manage to do neither before the world explodes.

Your eyes open to pandemonium. People are screaming. Kids are crying. You can hardly see, debris and smoke from the explosion making your eyes water and practically blotting out the sun.

There’s blood on your face.

Everyone is scattered. The screaming echoes around you, mirroring the screaming in your mind.

Where are you?

Your comm’s been knocked loose. Your gun is gone.

Your body is not your own. It’s acting on instinct. Fight. Flight. Push. Pull.

It shoves everything down. Everything your brain can’t compartmentalize right now gets locked away in a dark place. You can feel it all, later.

Right now, you have to survive.

“What the bloody hell was that?” Soap yells over the noise, snapping you out of autopilot. He’s somewhere behind you, sense of relief making you dizzy when you turn and see him crouched next to a large chunk of concrete. Thank fuck.

“Johnny? Shit.”

“Yeah. Shite. What was that?”

“A bomb.” You say, dryly. He gives you a dirt look.

“We’ve gotta split, lass.” The ground has a unique dirt pattern to it. The grains are all a different size, different shades of reds, greys, brown. Where are you? They work together, forming a chaotic design, one blanket of earth, dust and dirt swirling together and- where are you, where are you, where- “Sassy!” Soap’s face careens into your point of view. It looks distorted. You jerk backwards, the quick movement making your head spin. “You okay?”

“Where are we?” The words stick to the roof of your mouth. He gives you an odd look.

“Hey, Sassy. You alright?”

“I’m good. Yeah. All good.” A pause. A deep breath. A denial. “You got comms?”

“Negative.”

“Great.”

Johnny is bleeding. You didn’t notice right away, but the crimson stain spreads under his shirt near his hip, and your panic returns, ice slowly spreading through your veins, threatening to freeze you where you stand.

“You’re hurt.” You pat his shoulder, and he nods.

“We’ve got to find the others. Or the truck.”

You can’t find the god damn truck. You have no comms. No guns, only your combat knife and two grenades between the two of you, and Soap is actively bleeding.

It looks bad.

It feels even worse.

“Maybe we should just sit tight.” He grunts, and you startle.

“Yeah. Yeah, Johnny. Let’s just sit here, in the middle of active territory, with no comms, no guns, in the middle of the street. When you’re fucking bleeding out from your gut.” You snap. Confusion flickers across his face. You never snap at him. Gaz? Maybe. Ghost, yeah. Even Price sometimes. But never Johnny. “Sorry. Sorry, Soap. My head is still spinning from the blast.”

“It’s alright, lass.” His voice is calm, smooth. You can feel him watching you from the corner of your eye before he straightens, head turning the other direction. “There’s a hostel, a few clicks down the road. Want to give it a go? They probably have a phone.” You look at him, and then down the length of your own body, tallying and subtracting, plus or minus the odds.

Fuck it.

It’s not very far, but it feels like a full days’ walk. Your head is still buzzing, proximity to the blast too close, too much, too familiar. It’s scrambled your brain, and you find yourself trying to focus on the back of Soap’s head, breathing through your nose. One foot in front of the other.

Somewhere, a block or two away, a car backfires.

Your muscles flex, and you flatten against the side of the building. Soap is talking to you, but you’re immobile, and you can’t hear him. Breathe in. Breathe out.

Something kickstarts in the back of your brain and your feet move. You give him a nod.

The woman behind the desk is terrified of you. Her eyes go round when you approach, gesturing to the phone, and she hands it over immediately, nervously looking between you and Soap, who’s slumped over in a plastic chair, bleeding.

You dial the number you know by heart without pause.

Soap is leaning against you when the truck roars around the corner, dust fogging the air beneath its wheels. He’s doing alright, your rudimentary medical skills coming in clutch when you decided to pack his wound as you waited, and the woman at the desk kindly gave you some towels for pressure. You flag them down, Price white knuckled behind the wheel, familiar skull mask in the seat next to him.

Your heart sinks.

He’s going to kill you.

When he jumps from the passenger seat, he looks anything but angry. His eyes are frantic behind the mask, wide and darting from you to Soap, pulling him from your side into his as you get closer.

“Johnny.” He says gruffly, and Soap cracks a smile.

“S’all good, Sassafrass patched me up.” He groans, and Ghost loads him into the backseat, sliding in beside him as you take the spot up front.

You’re numb. Price is asking you questions, and you’re answering as best you can, surprised when he seems satisfied after the play the play. He even says you’ve done well, the praise from your captain warming a little spot in your cold body. You nod robotically, shallow smile on your face, and check on Soap in the rear-view mirror, relieved that he’s got good color in his cheeks, still breathing.

You catch Ghost’s eyes in the reflection. They burn into you from behind the mask, pulling you apart to see inside. He doesn’t blink, and you turn away, uneasy.

You stumble away from everyone after you give Johnny a pat on the head. He’s still smiling, and squeezes your hand affectionately, medical team carting him away to receive actual care.

He’s fine. We got here in time.

You’re staring at the blood in the sink when someone tries the door handle. After it doesn’t budge, a heavy fist thumps against the thin plywood.

“Someone’s in here.” You croak. The fist bangs again, and you sigh, swinging it open to tell whoever it is to go away.

Except, it’s Ghost standing on the other side.

“Fuck off.” The bewildered words come easily, and his eyes narrow. He shoulders through the door, slamming it shut, large hands gripping onto your shoulders and then tugging you into chest, heavy arms pressing you so tight into him that you’re having trouble breathing.

Your heart flips over.

He holds you, in silence, for a moment that feels like a decade. The balaclava scuffs along the top of your head, and he steps back, still clutching you by the arms, looking you up and down.

“Where are you hurt?” He shifts, thumb stroking a tender spot above your temple where you have a scratch, pulling the wet cloth in your grip free and dabbing it to the side of your head gently.

“N-no. I’m not. Just Soap. I’m fine.”

“Good. That’s… that’s good.” You stare like he’s grown two heads.

“Ghost.” You’re cautious, unsure. Confused. You don’t know what’s happening, why he’s standing in the bathroom, caressing your face, helping you clean up. He holds the cloth under the tap, bringing it back up to your cheek. “Ghost.” You try again. Nothing. Finally, you try; “Simon.”

His hand stops moving. He’s as still as marble in the bathroom, lungs frozen in his chest.

He’s looking into your eyes with a long, dizzying gaze that has your own stunned wide, unable to blink, unable to look away.

Until he lunges for you.

He snatches you by the waist, dragging you out the bathroom and hoisting you over his shoulder. You yelp. “Simon, what the fu-“

“Hush.” He swats your ass like you’re a petulant child, beelining for your tent.

Sometime in the night, when the base is somewhat quiet and the lamp light has dimmed, he folds you in half on the threadbare mattress, pressing your legs back towards your ear, eyes trained on where your cunt flutters for him, clenching around nothing as you wriggle and try to press your thighs together for friction.

“None of that. Be good.” He admonishes.

“Simon. Please.” You’re not too proud to beg in this moment, that’s what nearly dying will do to you. You need him.

He sinks to his knees, still framed between your legs, and rolls the bottom of the balaclava to his nose.

It’s the first time you’ve ever really seen the skin on his face in such a large amount. No paint. No skull. No black cloth. Just his jaw, broad and sharp. His lips, full and wet, flash of tongue darting out from behind his teeth, mouth hot against your pussy, thumbs spreading you open to have his fill.

“There she is.” He murmurs, lips on your clit like a lover’s kiss. His tongue seeks your swollen nub under its hood, and it’s so much, warmth of your body, his face, all of it melting into your skin. Your heel pushes against the mattress as you rock your hips up into his mouth and he chuckles, a hand pressing down on your lower belly. “You taste good, Sass.” You clench, twitching, getting close, orgasm barreling through your nerves, body moving in tandem with each swipe of his tongue, muscles seizing-

He pulls away, hand wiping his face and rocking backwards on his knees.

“What the fuck?” You screech, propping yourself up on your elbows. He’s loosening his belt, and you can’t resist reaching, wrapping your fingers around the throbbing length of his cock. He snatches your hand away, holding you by your wrist and bending you back down, laying his weight on top of you and pushing inside your cunt with a single thrust. It’s been months, yet your body yields to him immediately, aching burn fizzling out as your walls flutter and you whine.

“My girl.” He moans, fucking into you like a man starved. “My good girl.” You stutter out a response, some jumbled nonsense that sounds like his name, sounds like Simon. “My sweet girl, takin’ my cock like you were made for it.” He rears back, pulling your leg to his shoulder, foot dangling next to his ear.

“Fuck, Simon. Don’t- don’t stop please-“ His thumb continues in a circle on your clit, pleasure shooting through your muscles.

“Are you going to come?” you nod furiously, eyes clenched shut. “Look at me.” He bears down on you, gripping your face, and you find his usual guarded gaze nowhere, nothing between the two of you, just two raw currents slamming against one another they’re sparking. You can’t look away.

He thumbs your clits hard, giving you more as he thrusts, rising crescendo forcing insane noises from your mouth, sounds you don’t even recognize, gasping as your orgasm rolls over you like you’ve been hit by a truck. You tighten around him like a vice, and he swears, burying himself deep, walls pulsing around him, pulling his orgasm into you with ease.

You both slips into uneasy sleep, his body wrapped around yours so tight it almost hurts. Your dreams are broken, shattered fragments of bombs from past and present; voices screaming, friends pleading. You scream, pain and fear scratching under your skull, an attack, and bombardment you didn’t see coming. He holds you, soothes you, kisses you, still tense, coiled, ready to spring if need be.

“I got you, Sass. I’m here.” His voice is soft in the dark, fingers smoothing the sweat dampened skin of your face. “I’ve got you.”

Two days later, he rips the rug right out from under your feet.

“What the FUCK is this?” you brandish the stack of papers in your hands at Simon, who sits calmly in the corner of the tent. He doesn’t look at you, doesn’t acknowledge your shrieking, your voice reaching frantic pitches of incredulity.

“Can’t have you here.” He says simply, like that’s all the explanation that’s needed. You’re vibrating, rattling with fury, with fear.

“You reported an intimate relationship with Price, to get rid of me?” His eyes narrow behind the mask, but he doesn’t deny you. “Oh my fucking god, Simon.” You laugh, and it’s sour, spoiled. Rotten, like the sickness that’s turning your stomach. This has to be a joke.

“I can’t have you here.” He repeats himself like a broken record, before he’s on his feet and heading for the exit.

“Simon!” You hiss at his retreat, but it’s far too late. It’s too late for all of this. He’s already gone.

He doesn’t come to say goodbye. Johnny shuffles out to the airfield to give you a hug, Gaz and Price with him. Betrayal burns the back of your eyelids as you shake hands with your captain, and he gives you a knowing look. A sad look.

When the helicopter banks over the tents, you see the black spot of someone standing outside, face turned up to the sky, and you stare at the white and black skull until it disappears from view completely.

You’re restless.

Your house is a skeleton, the walls of the rooms empty, silence so loud you swear you can feel it reverberating in the floors. You were technically on leave, but available for transfer, even though you hadn’t put in for anything, and hadn’t put any feelers out for private sector either. There was something glitching in your brain. Something serious after that last explosion. The whispers of self-doubt echo in your mind. You were off after that bomb, there’s no denying it.

You’ve tried to cleanse yourself of it. Of him. Of everything. You stand under the spray of the shower and scrub your skin until it hurts, letting the bathroom become so thick with steam it’s hard to see. It’s the only thing that relaxes you. It’s the only place that feels quiet.

It’s three weeks later when you start to get sick. At first, you think it’s a bug and expect it to pass. You have a hard time keeping anything down, your stomach sending food and water right back up your throat, forcing you to sip electrolytes throughout the day to keep from crashing.

When four days of the same turn into five, and then six, and then a week, you start to get nervous. You start to do the math.

That’s how you end up in the drugstore, staring at the selection of pregnancy tests. Just to rule it out. You tell yourself. There is no way you’re pregnant. You were good with your pills. You rarely ever missed one. Better safe than sorry.

The test glares at you, fully aware of much an affront it is.

“This can’t be happening.” You whisper to yourself in the mirror. “This isn’t right.” Fear ricochets up your spine.

Fuck. Simon.

#sassy series #peaches writes #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader

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diorcities · 1 year

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angel tears

pairing: haechan x afab!reader.

genre: smut.

content: possessiveness, slight bondage, mirror sex, overstim, degradation, cry kink, make up sex.

wc: prbly 1.8k

you start to question everything you've done in the last two hours when haechan follows you to the bathroom.

he slams the door behind your back before you can realize he was behind you, and now you're locked with him and his rage. and you don't have to look to know how pissed he is. his heavy, audible breathing causes you to shrink into place and try to run away, but you're trapped. “you have to be kidding me, dove,” he says, “what the fuck was that?” the low tone of his voice, the way he pronounces every word slowly, how every one of them is full of venom, makes you shudder.

“what was what?” you ask, finally gathering the strength to look at him. the image you had visualized of him annoyed does not even come close to what your eyes see. with a tense jaw, twitching muscles, and a red face, his whole body screams anger and fury. oh, he's very upset. you can't help but feel fear as you remember that he is upset with you. “don't play fucking dumb right now, yn.” he shortens the distance from your bodies, but you drift away again by taking a few steps backward. “me talking with mark, you mean?” you pronounce.

haechan lets out a laugh, without grace. his hand caresses his jaw in a stimulus he uses to calm himself. “you talking with him ” he emphasizes the words. “do your fucking hands have to be touching him that way while you were chatting?” he asks, approaching you, until your back hits the wall. leaving you with no place to put distance between your bodies. “oh my god, haechan, we were just talking...” you try to reason with him, but he dodges it. “bet you love to know that he likes you,” he states, throwing blades at you with his piercing eyes. “what? n-no.”

“it makes you nervous?” he coos, “know that he probably jerks off with your pictures?” he says, clenching his jaw. “would you like that type of attention from him?” with each question, his body gets closer to you, pinning you against the tile wall. “no,” you breathe. “bet you want to fuck him, by the way you were looking at him?” his hands rest on each side of your body, trapping you inside. you swallow when your mouth feels dry. he takes that as a yes. his lips let out a short, breathy laugh. “i'll break his jaw,” he sentences, getting closer to your face. their breaths mingle in the narrow space of your mouths, “you're. fucking. mine.”

he kisses you. the way your legs melt and your being becomes liquid. with teeth and rage. with passion and tongue. your senses become alert, your emotions in point while you return the kiss, fervent, airy, with the intensity of a thousand suns. so much that it hurts. so overwhelming that it takes your breath away. haechan's teeth drift away to your neck, biting, and marking your skin while claiming possession. groping your waist, and every flesh his hands can reach. touch. pinch. he wants you whole. bruised and saint. wicked and holy.

“i should remind you who you belong to,” he says before putting his hand under your skirt and touching the clothed surface of your pussy. wet and longing for him. his cold rings send you shivers through your limbs when he starts rubbing your clit. your hands shoot up to his chest, but he pulls them away from his warmth with his available hand, restraining them behind your back. “no touching,” he declares, “you don't deserve it.” as he runs his digits down your folds, and inserts them inside you.

he uses his strength with you while his fingers do wonders. not allowing you to move while he fucks you without mercy. relentlessly twirling his fingers inside you, stimulating the right areas that make you hold your breath and feel a thousand stars explode in your stomach. “o-oh... s-shit.” he touches you so right, stimulating the right areas, shoving his fingers deep inside your cunt, feeling his rings every time he introduces his digits, that you become a bundle of gasps and trembling. “shit,” he says, feeling your walls throbbing and clenching, “only one minute, c'mon, dove,” he coos, watching you struggle to stand. “you can do better.”

he doesn't leave you time to respond when his fingers start moving again on the sensitive area. your mouth opens to let out a whimper because of the overwhelming sensation. “does it hurt? huh?” he wants to know, drinking the view of you, in a mess of babbling sounds. “j-just right,” you breathe. he lets go of your hands, adorned with pink bruises due to the force he used to keep them still. his pretty lips go to one of them, leaving a kiss before he moves them to your mouth.

you hold onto his broad shoulders, feeling again the sweet burn in your pussy, as haechan hits your spot repeatedly. your mind is flooded with the haze of desire, leaving you alone with the primitive instinct of violent lust, groaning and moaning his name. “look at you,” he mocks, “so pathetic.” his lips catch yours in a fiery kiss, stifling your moans in his mouth. you squirm when his pace increase in speed. “fuck.” a whine escape from your lips. your eyes fluttering as you feel your climax approaching. head tilting back, revealing the soft flesh that haechan marks with his mouth.

the floppy sounds of your wet pussy make him drunk and dazed. he catches every moan, hiss, and pant you make when you finally release on his fingers, walls pulsing around his digits, as he rides you to your high. body flowing in the sea of spasms that your orgasm leaves, feeling haechan's fingers finally pulling out. your walls clenched around nothing now, as you watch him bring up his fingers to his lips and licked your arousal.

your mouth wants to feel his lips. you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him fervently. hungry. violent. wanting to have everything from him. wanting to print your lips with his, until you run out of breath, until you feel that they hurt. haechan kisses you back, with the same intensity, pressing against him, tattooing his footprints on your skin. and you want him to mark you all. let him mark you as his own.

he drags you like nothing towards the mirror, and turns you on your axis with ease. his arm muscles tightening under his browned skin. hearing him struggle with the buckle of his pants while resting one hand on your thigh. lifting up the fabric so he can have access to your swollen pussy. he tosses your underwear to the side and aligns his cock soaked with his precum. the head pushes against your hole, starting to stretch you out to accommodate him. a strangled noise falls from your lips from how big he is. using his two hands on your waist while pushing himself in you, looking at his features contracted with pleasure as his mouth slips out a soft contended whine.

both of you stand there, still, drinking the sensation while a sweet burning invades you. he looks at you in the mirror, and smile, “too much for you?” as your expression change, eyes fluttering and teeth biting your lip. you whisper something under your breath, that he barely catches and makes you repeat it, “i can take it.” his cock twitches with your statement.

he bends you over the sink with a hand firmly on your shoulder, as his hips smash your ass. burying his length that releases waves of pleasure all over your limbs. your legs tremble when he pulls out and go back again. the wet sound of your pussy filling the air every time he shoves his dick in your cunt without compassion. the carousel of pleasure and sensations causes your eyes to close and your jaw to clench, drowning out moans in your throat. “open your eyes and look,” he urges you, and you know you don't want him to repeat it, so you do, seeing stars floating in your vision. blurred. cloudy. “f-fuck!” you moan when he increases the pace of his rhythmic thrusts. jaw clenching and eyes flooded with tears. your reflection looks back at you. mascara ruined and mouth open letting out choppy sounds. at this moment, you don't really care if the music is too loud to muffle your screams or not. you know for sure that haechan doesn't even care, you can even say that he is passionate about others hearing you. eager to let mark hear you.

“so fucking tight, taking my cock so well.” he hasn't stopped looking at you through the mirror, a grunt escapes from his mouth at the sight of you crying due to the arousal. “bet mark won't fuck you like this.” your pussy clenches around his cock, feeling a sweet pain spreading right where he's hitting. “s-shit...” you feel stargazing, sensing this rare feeling that you're about to piss. “o-oh, god.” your hands go to one of his veiny arms, feeling how hard he's grabbing you. your body shudders as a white noise fills your senses. the numbness seizes you, shutting your eyes while haechan takes you to the edge. body shutting down when you finally explode, sobbing in a high-pitched moan because haechan doesn't stop pounding you.

your body ends up being a mess of spasms and squirms until you feel haechan tenses behind you. cock twitching and pulsing while he empties his load into you. feeling the warm seed painting your walls, hearing his throaty whimpers while he milks his dick in your cunt. shoving it deeper as he gets closer to you. back pressing his chest. his voice releases venom when he says “dare you to talk to mark again.” you know that it's better to listen to him, but little does he know that all this was a scheme of you to make him fuck you senseless. so, of course, you'd do it again.

#nct smut #nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #haechan smut #haechan drabbles #donghyuck smut #♡haechan

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albeducks · 1 year

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WHO'S THE LALALA AND THE OKOKOK IN YOUR RELATIONSHIP ★

WANDERER

he's an okokok and don't you dare disagree with me

i think he could be a lalala too but he prefers hearing you talk and rant about your day

voice kink?? question mark??

no matter what situation, hearing your voice just makes him melt

he's giggling, kicking his feet, going feral, running a marathon, screaming, creaming, crying, whimpering when you're in his sight

"and then she just-" you talked and talked, flinging your arms around exaggeratingly, making the conversation more dramatic and of course, fun to hear.

by conversation, you mean you rambling about your day while he stays silent, occasionally humming and chuckling

when your hold on his hand slightly faltered, he was quick to turn to you, hoping you didn't take his silence for annoyance.

but those thoughts were swept away as quickly as they came when he saw your eyes glowing from the dim lights, lips nonstop moving as you go on about the girl in your class.

he enjoys these moments, where you're comfortaby talking and he's comfortably listening.

ZHONGLI

SUCH a lalala, ugh

this old man may take time to warm up and chat alot, but over time he's sure to talk your ears off

if you're a lalala too, then you will definitely have a good time with him.

if you're an okokok, then you will also have a good time.

he doesn't mind leading the conversation, as long as you're accompanying him.

"osmanthus wine tastes the same as i remember, but where are those who share the memory?" he questions, even though it's not exactly directed at you.

he places the cup down, clearing his throat before continuing his opinion on, well... political things. cough archons cough

you look down at your full cup, his short talk about the wine and the people he drank with spooking you a bit.

what a lonely old man.

a talkative one, at that.

but after many years, having someone who doesn't mind your quiet self is rather nice.

maybe you should visit him more often.

AL HAITHAM

an okokok

yuh

he looks like he's reading his book and not listening to the bs ur saying but don't u dare stop talking

cuz he's listening

and he's enjoying it

cutie frfr

"then it just exploded out of nowhere-" you rambled and rambled about the explosion in your science class, while al haitham is leaning back on the chair, eyes focused on the book he's reading.

"and all of us were like-" your eyes passed al haitham for a split second, but they settled back onto him when you catched a very concentrated al haitham, eyes boring into the thick paper.

your shoulders tensed for a moment and you sighed, looking up at the ceiling.

5 seconds went by.

10.

"why'd you stop talking?" his stern voice surprises you, and when you look at him, his face expression is a mix of confusion and concern.

"mm. nothing."

"and what happened after the class just erupted into flames?" he asked, placing his book down onto the table.

your eyes widened for a second, and you had to blink a few times but you slowly grinned.

with him, you shouldn't worry about not being heard.

#genshin impact x you #genshin impact headcanons #genshin x you #genshin x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #scara x reader #scaramouche x you #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #kunikuzushi x reader #zhongli x y/n #zhongli x reader #al haitam x reader #al haitham x you

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dcxdpdabbles · 2 months

Note

ok but imagine

batman with gun tim time travels to the past but instead of trying to seduce baby tim to the dark side he,,, ignores him

after all baby tim is young and pragmatic he'll realize that company policy is ineffective and kill people gets shit done

no bwg!tim has more important things to handle

like killing the ppl who murder his boo danny

and he knows exactly who to target

bonus points if tim and danny aren't dating yet

extra bonus points if they haven't even met yet

The plan was simple really. Time travel and start the correct way to handle criminals early. Take out the people that had taken from him the only person he really loved.

His past self was still running around trying to talk the Bats down from murderous rage, and while that itched, it was a lesson he needed to learn in order to finally wake up and properly get things done.

Tim saw no reason to track him down. He's stubborn as a mule, he can admit that, and his past self heartily believes that the crazy bastards should be locked away instead of put down. It would be ages before he could get close to getting him to listen to what Tim had to say.

Time, ironically, is not something he has to waste. The machine that brought him back had preset departer times. If he missed it then Gotham in ten years would be without it's Batman.

The carefuly iron control he has over the city would be questioned, and some fools would try to make a power grab in the sudden vaccum Batman had left behind.

So while it would take years for his past self to come to his senses, it would happen on its own, and Tim was alright with waiting for it. What he wouldn't allow to repeat itself was the death of his lover.

His plan involved killing the people that killed Danny. What Tim forgot in his grief was that those very people were the ones to raise Danny.

Yes, Jack and Maddie Fenton had killed their son in an accident. The ray gun that they designed had been faulty and had exploded in wide outburst instead of shooting straight.

It was meant to paralyze the ghost for capture.

Instead, it attacked ghost cores in horrific, fast-acting disintegration. Tim remembers the blast washing over him, the green ripples doing nothing to him as a human, and for a brief second thinking it funny that their gun was just a fancy light show, only to hear Jack Fenton's cry of celebration.

Then Danny's scream of agony.

His skin had been falling off, and Tim had been rooted to the spot watching his boyfriend, his lover, his entire moral compass melt before his eyes.

He had watched Maddie's smug face break into hysterical grief when Danny's ghost form vanished, and the sluggish body that fell to the floor with a splat had been her son. The two scientists had reached Danny first, and the fools had begged him to hold on.

As if they were not the ones to have done this, indirectly or not.

Danny's last words had been "I forgive you. I love you"

and then he was gone. In seconds his Danny was lost. He had died painfully, unfairly, and all because his parents had believed in their bigotry so purely they never saw reason to change their minds, even when there were signs their son was part of the group they loath so much.

The Fentons hadn't even been charged with Danny's death. It was deemed an accident; the worst they had to do was pay a fine for their blast, knocking out the power. All because ghosts were not protected under meta laws, and Danny was no longer recognized as human.

Tim hated them more than any villain in the world, hated that they lived well, Danny did not.

His own comfort was that they couldn't live with themselves either. Jack Fenton had taken his life the night after the funeral Jassmin had planned for Danny. Maddie Fenton had lost her mind, speaking to the air as though her husband and son were still there, and was moved to an asylum by a grief-stricken daughter.

There she died of a broken heart.

Tim took care of Jazz, he felt that Danny would have wanted him to, but she was never the same again. She was one of the first to agreed with him that Batman had to stop people before they went too far.

That thinking "they'll come around" was no longer an option. She made him the bullets for the gun that killed Bruce's parents, and she was the one that watched that same gun put down the Joker.

It was the first time she smiled in years.

All that hurt because of these fools.

Tim wasn't going to let them hurt anyone anymore. He aims his gun at the shaking forms of Jack and Maddie Fenton, their pathetic attempt to fight him off, were nothing comparied to his training.

He had them on their knees, bound to hold still, and with one push of his finger, the toxic outlook on ghosts would die with them.

But foolish-loving Danny wasn't about to let him put them in the ground where they belonged. The boy had thrown himself in front of them with a cry, throwing up a shield seconds before the bullets found their mark.

The Fenton couple gasped while Danny turned to them with clear worry. "Are you alright?"

Tim felt as if though he was kicked in the chest, seeing the boy- for he was a boy. How had he forgotten that his love died so young? Now with all the years under Tim's belt, did he truly see how pre-maturely Danny had died.

He was as beautiful as the day Tim lost him, but he was far too pure and innocent now. Tim's killing was a necessary that ruined him, while Danny remained kind and forgiving till the end.

He can't stop the rush of air that threathens to burn tears into his eyes escape him. Thankfully his training kicks in and Batman is able to shut everything that was Tim in his mind.

All that remain was the mission within human shape.

Danny growls, voice as cold as his ice core "Who are you?!"

"I'm Batman"

"Liar!" The boy hisses, thin pieces of frost growing around his green shield. "Batman doesn't kill!"

Tim scoffs, "Killing is the only way to stop more death."

Danny doesn't respond. He merely shoots a blast at him, momentarily dropping his shield, and Batman rolls away. He will overwhelm the boy and get him out of the way.

Then, he will do what he came to accomplish. Danny must know that, for he sees the moment, he shuts away his own human part and melts into Phantom.

The young ghost who took on a King for his people and became the hero that supported Red Robin above all else.

Phantom leaps at him, and Batman meets him halfway, each wearing emotionless expressions that promise a fight to the bitter end.

#dcxdpdabbles #dc x dp crossover #dead tired #tw: mention of suicide #Tw: painful charater death #Batman with a gun #Dark #Tim of the future trying to kill the Fentons #The fentons died with their grief before #Danny doesn't even know Tim #Is it love or is it obession at this point?#I did the best I could I don't really know that comic plot well

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kqyslyho3 · 4 months

Text

.·:¨༺ ༻¨:·.''Merry Christmas, mamas" .·:¨༺ ༻¨:·.

Warnings: SMUTTTT

It was Christmas Eve and the snow was gently falling outside, blanketing the streets in a soft white dust. Inside, the fireplace crackled and the smell of pine filled the air. Y/n and Chris sat on the couch, snuggled close together, enjoying the warmth of each other's company.

But as the night went on, the fire wasn't the only thing heating up. Chris's fingers traced along Y/n's thigh, his touch sending shivers down her spine. They had been together for a few months now, but every time they were together, the passion and desire between them only grew stronger.

Y/n let out a soft moan as Chris's lips found their way to her neck, his teeth nipping at her sensitive skin. She turned to face him, their lips meeting in a heated kiss. As their tongues danced together, their hands began to roam, exploring each other's bodies.

Chris's hands slipped under Y/n's shirt, his calloused fingers tracing over her curves, eliciting a low groan from her. He pulled away from the kiss, his eyes dark with desire.

'I want you, ma,' he whispered, his breath hot against her lips.

Y/n's heart raced at the nickname he had for her. It was a term of endearment that only he used, and it never failed to make her melt.

'I want you too, Chris,' she replied, her voice filled with need.

With a smirk, Chris stood up and offered his hand to Y/n. She eagerly took it, allowing him to lead her to the bedroom. As soon as they were inside, Chris pushed her against the door, his lips attacking hers once again. Their tongues battled for dominance as they both struggled to catch their breath.

Chris's hands fumbled with the buttons of Y/n's shirt, his urgency evident in the way his movements became more frantic. He tugged off her shirt, exposing her lacy bra. He let out a groan as his eyes ran over her, his hands reaching up to cup her breasts.

'Mama, you're so beautiful,' he whispered, his lips trailing down her neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake.

Y/n let out a breathy moan as Chris's lips found her bare skin, his teeth gently biting and sucking on her flesh. She ran her fingers through his hair, tugging on the strands as he continued to explore her body with his lips and hands.

'Chris, please,' Y/n pleaded, her voice filled with desperate desire.

Without hesitation, Chris stepped back to remove his own shirt, revealing his chiseled chest and toned abs. Y/n traced her fingers over his muscles, marveling at the sight of him.

Chris pushed Y/n onto the bed, his body hovering over hers as he peppered her face with kisses. He slowly made his way down her body, his lips stopping at her breasts to suck and bite on her nipples. Y/n's hips bucked against him, her nails digging into his back.

'Fuck, mama, you're so perfect,' Chris groaned, his hot breath fanning over her skin.

Y/n's eyes rolled back as Chris's lips made their way further down her body, his fingers hooking into her panties and tugging them down her legs. He spread her legs wide, his eyes filled with hunger as he looked down at her.

Without warning, Chris's tongue darted out, flicking against Y/n's clit. She let out a loud moan, her hips arching off the bed as he continued to pleasure her with his mouth. His fingers slipped inside her, curling and hitting all the right spots, making her cry out in pleasure.

Y/n's hands grabbed onto the sheets as she felt her release approaching. Chris could feel her tightening around his fingers, his tongue working harder to push her over the edge.

'M-Ma, come for me,' Chris moaned against her, his own arousal evident in his voice.

And with that, Y/n exploded, her back arched as she let out a scream of ecstasy. Chris continued to pleasure her through her orgasm, not stopping until she was completely spent.

But he wasn't done with her yet. With a growl, he crawled up her body, capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. Y/n could taste herself on his lips, and it only fueled her desire for him even more.

With shaky hands, Chris pulled off his pants, his hard member springing free. Y/n's breath hitched at the sight, her hand reaching up to stroke him.

Chris entered her, causing her to cry out in pleasure. His thrusts were rough and fast, but never once did they lose their rhythm. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure through Y/n's body, building her up for another release.

'Ma, you feel so fucking good,' Chris groaned, his eyes locked onto hers as he continued to pound into her relentlessly.

Y/n could feel her second orgasm building, her body trembling beneath Chris's. And with one final thrust, she came harder than before, her vision going white as the world exploded around her.

Chris followed soon after, his own release pouring into her as he let out a low moan of satisfaction. They both collapsed onto the bed, their bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

As they lay there, tangled in each other's limbs, Chris pulled Y/n close, his lips pressing against her forehead.

'Merry Christmas, mamas,' he whispered, his heart filled with love and contentment.

Kqysly notes:

MERRY CHRISTMAS BITCHES

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thornsnvultures · 11 months

Text

18+ nsft breeding kink, plus size!fem!reader

teacher!steve finally getting off for summer break

---

he's so excited to spend time with you, his pretty little wife.

or at least that's what he whispers in your ear when he sneaks up behind you that morning while you make breakfast. the eggs almost burn, you're too distracted from all the hot kisses he presses up and down your neck.

"got all summer to love on you. gonna take you to the beach, fuck, anywhere you can wear that new bikini. maybe around the house all summer."

you have to beat steve off of you with the spatula just so you can eat.

and you do spend a lot of time in that bikini. and a lot of time out of it. with steve's hands roaming your curves, every exposed inch that stayed hidden for those long winter months. not that you ever hid anything from him. but to see you laid bare for him at any time of day. it makes him a little crazy.

"steve, right there! fuck," you whine with your head thrown back. your fingers tug at his long, thick hair as his tongue delves deeper by the side of the backyard pool. steve pushes your legs up wider, higher, so he can bury his face in your cunt.

"that's it, baby. scream for me. let the neighbors know whose pussy this is."

two of his fingers scissor you open as he laps at your clit and you writhe on the tiled edge, giving in and screaming his name as you explode on his tongue.

"fuck, that's it, baby. c'mere," he pulls you up and into the pool with him, holding you in his arms as you sink down onto his cock. "not done with you yet."

summer thunderstorms are your favorite. curling up with steve as the rain pounds and lightning cracks across the sky. even when the power goes out you feel safe in this house in the arms of the man you love.

underneath him too, wrapped in darkness after the lights have gone out. steve holds your hands above your head as he sinks into your heat.

"look at me, baby. keep those pretty eyes open while I stuff you full of my cock."

your lashes flutter, straining against the need to keep them from rolling back. his fat cock fills you so good, so perfectly.

thunder booms as steve pounds you into the mattress. it's so close it shakes the house but all you can feel is steve. the thick hair on his chest brushes against your skin, tickling your nipples as he leans in to kiss you.

"gonna fill you up. fuck this load into you, stuff you full. that what you want, baby? want me to breed this little pussy?"

the soft way steve says such filthy things makes your brain melt, all you can do is whimper, nod, beg, plead, whine desperately for just that. for all of him.

steve mouths at your neck, presses kisses to your breasts as his thrusts grow frantic. slamming harder into you until he stills, grunting, his hips twitching with the force of his orgasm when he spills inside you. the gushing warmth pushes you over the edge and you cry out as steve drops his weight on you, still holding your hands.

steve watches intently when he pulls out of you later, watching his cum ooze out of your creamy cunt. he pushes it back in gently and you only stir a little in your sleep. the rain has stopped so steve opens a window, letting the cool night air blow in.

"my pretty little wife," he whispers fondly, smiling to himself and crawling back into bed with you.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x plus size!reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #teacher!steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #married!steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington oneshot #my fics

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victoirey · 1 year

Note

rotxo x reader?? 🌝🌝 he's so pretty, definitely would read something for him, it's such a shame there isn't anything about him, but u could change that 😏 and I loved the headcanons about being lo'aks bestie- in general, your headcanons are the best 💕

♡. "lovely."—

synopsis / "[...] just... lovely."

gn!omaticayan!lo'aksbestie!reader | y/n has mega epic rizz, but rotxo has better rizz. tsireya x lo'ak canon. count how many times I say gently/gentle. thank you anon for your kind words. it is 3 am, I'm on the brink of insanity and my head hurts. @vante1920pm hi, this is my offering for you. let's be official besties RIGHT NOW.

side note if this flops I'm crying

you know, rotxo was always really nice to you. he greeted you every morning, bid you goodnight ever night. he also brought you food whenever you showed signs of hunger— and also, he tried to have ao'nung leave you guys alone. it was like a silent friendship. a really silent friendship. you were a hundred percent sure he'd be a good wingman for whoever you liked, to be honest!

he's your partner in crime, ( silently ) , your go to boy for venting ( unintentionally) your ride or die (platonically and silently )

so how the hell could this have happened.

rotxo is a kind guy. yeah. he's real kind, his smile itself brings butterflies to your tummy and a light to your face. his voice makes you shiver. his touch makes you melt. his hair is as soft as he is. his heart is what you want. he is your beloved, as the elders say. if any elders knew about it but they can't because you're not that type of dude! you're not that type of dude to fall inlove with someone like 3 weeks in, even though their pretty voice and gentleness when teaching has you screaming , crying , and begging for their love — .

okay, no, you can't be inlove. not in a situation like this. don't prove lo'ak right, y/n. you've got better things to do. handsomer guys to crush on. richer guys to drain resources from. cuter guys to coo over. stronger guys to seek protection from.

except you know what's funny? everytime you tried to compare him to somebody, you'd involuntarily imagine them getting into a big fight. the trophy? your heart. rotxo won easily everytime.

you see, throughout the days rotxo has taught you— you have found yourself falling deeper and deeper into his eyes. they were the sea itself, and if the sea was as beautiful as his eyes were— hell, you'd be presumed dead by drowning. rotxo was a good teacher. he was kind, patient & gentle. he knew when to joke. he knew when to ( attempt to) comfort you. he knew when to congratulate you.

unintentionally, he also knew all of your most vulnerable spots.

"be calm , y/n." he instructed, gently. you were meditating once again, with tsireya , lo'ak , and neteyam. you were doing good, so far — until rotxo placed his unbelievably soft hands onto your stomach to really get you to be calm. you were not calm. absolutely far from calm. your heart was beating and if it was a car, it'd go past the speed limit. you know what a car is because of your days at the lab— and you know how fast they can be. your heart is so much faster right now. rotxo is touching you. rotxo has his hands on your hips. your breath hitches, you shiver, your mind is moving way too fast and you feel that if rotxo wasn't holding onto your waist to stabilize you, you'd quite literally hit your head on the rock. then tumble down miserably. then drop into the ocean.

"y/n." you realize that you have been spacing out looking at him this whole time, looking at his eyes, his nose, his lips, his cheeks— and then you accidentally swear outloud. "sorry." you sheepishly say, except rotxo just laughs. "it's alright! your heart is fast— it's only gone faster now, because I caught you by so much surprise. I'll help you, okay?" he says, gently, and you're about to swear someone out. you don't need his help, you need him to stay away otherwise you're going to explode. except you give in. you oblige.

"okay."

"good." rotxo said, his hands pressing onto your stomach, harder. oh crap. oh fuck. oh no. fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckshit really like oh my fuck no. "breathe in." he said, you obliged, shakily. "breathe slowly out." you obliged, still shakily. your heartbeat increased with each second he has his hand on your stomach. "your heart is still fast, relax, y/n." rotxo said— and as if you were waiting for that command, as if you were waiting for an order to obey— you instinctively did. you tried to excuse your actions — thinking, wow, rotxo has such a relaxing voice. yet, lo'ak, neteyam, and tsireya looked at eachother— collectively smirking. lo'ak most of all, knowing that this was gonna be peak teasing material.

you were absolute putty in rotxo's presence.

what you were aswell, was inlove. you were unconditionally, irrevocably inlove with rotxo of the metkayina clan. you had admitted it once, in your dreams— you dreamt that he was accepting your confession, and he kissed your hand and it all felt so real— and he just felt so real because his eyes were so real and if you didnt know any better you'd never have left that dream but you had to. and it hurt. there was a world in which he was already yours, except it wasn't this one. you wish it was this one. you dream it was this one.

after that dream, you settle on relaxing— your feet in the water , swishing around — and it really takes your all to just not drown yourself. why are you making a big deal out of this? why are you even inlove with him? he's not all that. he's just a boy.

that's what you told lo'ak, when he came to tease you about it —

"you look like a viperwolf in love." his voice cut through the solid silence. lo'aks voice was full of mischief, "you know, because you're inlove with rotxo and also you're , like a viperwolf , on the brink of insanity." you scoffed, "go drown, lo'ak." he snickered, sitting next to you and dipping his feet into the water aswell. "you know, it's not that bad."

"what is?"

"being inlove."

"wouldn't you know, mr. 'tsireya is my soul incarnate'" you replied, teasingly. he raised his hands up in defense. "you know you love a girl when you love a girl! but still... tsireya and I worked out, so why can't you two work out aswell?"

"because he doesn't like me, jackass."

"you don't know that." he shrugged.

"yes I do, shut up." you snapped.

"woah! getting defensive there, n/n. listen, he basically has heart eyes for you. confess or I'll do it myself, and maybe ask him out on a date for you. because you're such a wuss. and a pussy. and a scaredy cat and a —" he began to list off all the insults he could possibly imagine from the top of his head— and you could've sworn you were going to confess to rotxo just to get him to shut up, but the problem is, you swore it and you actually considered it. at that moment, you tuned everything out. it was weird, honestly. considering an idea that lo'ak , infamous for getting everything wrong, made up. yet, you couldn't believe it, but you .... really had nothing else to do, and nothing to lose besides a friend. and its his loss!

"you know what, lo'ak?"

"undercooked chicken nugget from earth that has a hard piece in it , direwolf shit —"

"lo'ak!"

"sorry, what?"

"I'm gonna do it." you sighed. he jumped, shaking you by the shoulders.

"for real?! ohoho, goodluck! goodluck! literally! I'm so proud right now, you're stepping up! good on you!"

eywa, if you're listening, I need your help. I need this boy to stop shaking me and I also need the other boy to accept my love for him. please, mother, help me.

you cant believe you're doing this.

rotxo is sitting with you, feet in the water, and he's painfully awkward and you can tell because all he can look at is the water and yet all you can look at is him. just him, and his pretty face. why are you being so silent right now? you are literally the one who asked tsireya to lead him here. she was happy to help too. but you know, you're still nervous as shit.

a hand is placed on the back of yours. you shiver, once again.

"I noticed it." rotxo starts, voice quiet. he moves his hand, up , up , and up until your shoulder, and your neck— and then he trails down again, to your side. and then to your hips. he places his hands on your stomach.

your heart near jumps out of your skin.

"why do you react to my touch that way?"

you look at him, eyes widening— to be honest, you didn't think you were being subtle. but you didn't know you were that obvious. you dig into your brain for an answer, and realize that you shouldn't dig for answers. not in your brain, atleast. in your heart. your heart, that has waited patiently for your mate. your heart, that shaked each time rotxo was in your vicinity. your heart, that sent all systems into haywire when he touched you. your heart, whose veins would only ever align with rotxo's. rotxo's heart, not yours. you hate to stoop this low, but in his presence, you are his.

"it is not that I mean to," you start, voice calm. "it's that you are just..." you pause, how could you word it? how could you describe rotxo in one word? how could you even begin to encompass his beauty? his kindness? his gentleness? his thoughtfulness? his nice voice? what could possibly describe everything about him? you think, for a moment. you think and you think, until finally—

"it's that you are just... lovely."

"lovely?" he chuckles, "is that what you think I am?"

"yes." your answer is confident, and that only makes him laugh more.

"you are sure of yourself, that is admirable. what makes me lovely?"

"you just are."

"am i? I do not think ao'nung would agree."

"I do. because I love you."

rotxo looks like he got hit by a truck. rotxo is aghast & unprepared to take your confession, he backs away a bit aswell. you look at him calmly, already expecting nothing but the worst. his mouth twitches, and he looks at your lips, and suddenly all he wants to do is kiss you. he's liked you for some time, now. it feels real good to be confessed to by someone you've liked. really, really good.

"y-you are ... good at the element of surprise." he speaks, "very good."

"am I? personally, I believe I'm better at loving you than I am at the element of surprise."

direct hit to the heart.

you smirk, powered by the surge of confidence. he's deteriorating just by looking at you. you like boys like him. very easy to tease. very cute.

"breathe in, and then out." you say, and he does that— and he is relaxed, naturally.

rotxo looks at you, chest heaving from the amount of times his heart had beat when you had made direct moves on him. he looks at you, smiling. he's happy. still flustered, but he's happy. you, having just recovered from that high, are also happy & flustered. you look at the sky, wanting to look at anything else but him— but he doesn't want to look at anything else but you. your eyes crease up in a smile as you hear his next words,

"I think you are lovely too."

#lo'ak #lo'ak sully #rotxo x reader #rotxo #rotxo x y/n #avatar rotxo #tsireya #rotxo awow #atwow rotxo #neteyam #neteyam sully #metkayina clan #ao'nung #aonung

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imelliesgf · 1 year

Text

mom ellie, headcanons

pairing: wife!ellie x wife!reader

warnings: modern!au, super fluff, ellie being a crybaby.

author's note: english is not my first language, so lmk if i made any mistakes pls

not proof read

ִֶָ 𖥻 ٫ ໋ It was you who got pregnant, since Ellie's biggest dream in life was to see you pregnant. You, of course, agreed, as you were excited to experiencing pregnancy.

ִֶָ ִֶ 𖥻 ٫ ໋During your pregnancy, Ellie would talk to your daughter all. the. fucking. time. like, she gets home from work and the first thing she does is kiss you and immediately goes on her knees to talk to the baby.

"Hey little one, how was your day? Did you take care of Mommy like we agreed, uh?"

ִֶָ 𖥻 ٫ ໋ Her worst nightmare it's you making any effort, even the smallest. Sometimes she won't even let you get out of bed by yourself, saying "Honey, you can't do too much effort. It is dangerous for you and the baby" and kissing your forehead after that, while you keep cursing her under your breath.

ִֶָ 𖥻 ٫ ໋ Admires you all the time, like, seriously, it's kinda creepy sometimes. You'll be brushing your teeth and suddenly be startled to find Ellie's reflection in the mirror, staring at you with her beautiful green eyes, muttering "You look so wonderful" even though you're disheveled and looking like you just woke up.

"Baby, you're so beautiful, and hot, and cute, and pretty, and—" "Ellie! I'm peeing!"

ִֶָ 𖥻 ٫ ໋ When your body starts to change due to pregnancy, she uses every possible compliment to enhance your beauty.

ִֶָ 𖥻 ٫ ໋ When your little girl was born, Ellie nearly exploded with happiness. Her eyes glowed such an intense shade of green, you have never seen them before. She looked radiant, happiness suited her.

"Hey little one, you're finally here," she said with adoration written on her face. The small baby in her lap, moved curiously at the familiar voice. "It's momma baby, do you remember my voice?" as soon as the word 'momma' left her mouth, a toothless smile formed on the baby's face. "Of course you do."

ִֶָ 𖥻 ٫ ໋ Ellie is so SO attached to your daughter, any little noise she makes and Ellie is already running towards the baby, screaming "I'm coming little one, don't worry, momma is coming!" hearing Ellie's voice, the baby in your lap would giggle in the cutest way possible, making you giggle along with her.

ִֶָ 𖥻 ٫ ໋ When Ellie managed to convince you to go out with Dina for a while to clear your head since you were lying awake all night while the baby was crying wanting to be fed, you felt a little bad about the situation. Like you were being a weak mother or something, even though Ellie assured you that you were the strongest woman she knew, and certainly, the best mother your daughter could have. When you got home after a fun and exciting day with Dina, you melted to find Ellie and the baby sleeping cuddled together in your bed.

ִֶָ 𖥻 ٫ ໋ The first word the little girl said wasn't momma or mommy how you guys expected to be, but boo boo. The first time she said that you and Ellie looked at each other with interrogation points on your faces, but as time passed, you figure out that it was a name for your breasts. Every time she's hungry, she would say "boo boo" and try to reach your breasts while saying this. Ellie would find it the cutest thing in the entire world.

"Mommy, boo boo!" the little girl said with a pout on her lips, her little eyes twinkling in your direction as she tries to scoot off Ellie's lap to reach you. You took her in your arms, turning back to Ellie when you heard a growl come out of her mouth. Ellie had an even bigger pout than her daughter's on her lips, her green eyes glistening with tears. "I want boo boo too."

ִֶָ 𖥻 ٫ ໋ Ellie turned your daughter into a child obsessed with dinosaurs and space. Buying countless dinosaur plushies and shiny sticky stars for her bedroom ceiling. And since the little one was old enough to start playing with dolls and stuff, Ellie always play with her, always making sure to include dinosaurs.

"Oh no! The bad dinosaurs are trying to catch Mr. Bunny!" your daughter said with exasperation in her tone. "That's not going to happen, 'cause the super good dinosaur is here to save Mr. Bunny!" Ellie appeared in the room with a huge plush dinosaur in hand. You smiled wildly seeing the happiness in both their faces.

ִֶָ 𖥻 ٫ ໋ The first day at kindergarten, Ellie cried a lot. And when I say a lot, I mean, she cried like a baby, like she was never going to see her daughter again.

She had been the one to walk your daughter to class after she said goodbye to you. As you waited by the side of the car for a little too long, a kindergarten worker appeared, gently holding Ellie's shoulder as she sobbed through her tears and walked to you. "Oh my God, baby what happened?" your voice was full of concern as she got close enough for you to put your hands on the sides of her face. "I-i a-already miss h-her," she said with difficulty, hiding her face in your neck and crying desperately.

lmk if u guys liked :)

#ellie williams x you #ellie williams hcs #ellie headcanons #ellie tlou x reader #ellie x you #ellie williams tlou #ellie x reader #ellie williams #modern!au

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noahsresources · 10 months

Text

how would your muse describe mine? (negative associations)

send an emoji (and/or the description of them) to let them know! if it helps, think about finishing the following sentence from the perspective of your muse: "i think you're _____." (terms source)

😡 [RED ANGRY FACE] — aggressive

😒 [UNAMUSED FACE] — aloof

🤬 [FACE WITH SYMBOLS OVER MOUTH] — angry

😰 [ANXIOUS FACE WITH SWEAT] — anxious

🫵 [INDEX POINTING AT THE VIEWER] — argumentative

👅 [TONGUE] — arrogant

😉 [WINKING FACE] — cheeky

👶 [BABY] — childish

🪃 [BOOMERANG] — cocky

🪞 [MIRROR] — conceited

🩸 [DROP OF BLOOD] — cruel

🚪 [DOOR] — cynical

🔫 [WATER PISTOL] — dangerous

💥 [EXPLOSION] — daring

🌑 [NEW MOON] — dark

⚠️ [WARNING] — defiant

😣 [PERSEVERING FACE] — difficult

🗯️ [ANGRY SPEECH BUBBLE] — dishonest

🖕 [MIDDLE FINGER] — disrespectful

🫠 [MELTING FACE] — ditsy

😭 [LOUDLY CRYING FACE] — emotional

🖤 [BLACK HEART] — evil

😱 [FACE SCREAMING IN FEAR] — fearful

🗑️ [WASTEBASKET] — filthy

💔 [BROKEN HEART] — fragile

🌧️ [CLOUD WITH RAIN] — gloomy

🤑 [MONEY-MOUTH FACE] — greedy

🙎 [PERSON POUTING] — grumpy

😓 [DOWNCAST FACE WITH SWEAT] — harsh

🧨 [FIRECRACKER] — hateful

🤣 [ROFL FACE] — hyper

🙄 [FACE WITH ROLLING EYES] — ignorant

🧒 [CHILD] — immature

😖 [CONFOUNDED FACE] — impatient

😪 [SLEEPY FACE] — impolite

🛹 [SKATEBOARD] — impulsive

🐣 [HATCHING CHICK] — innocent

⚡️ [LIGHTNING BOLT] — intense

💦 [WATER DROPLETS] — irrational

❎ [X MARK] — jealous

🥱 [YAWNING FACE] — lazy

🗣️ [SPEAKING SILHOUETTE HEAD] — loud

😩 [WEARY FACE] — moody

🫲 [LEFTWARD HAND] — needy

🫦 [BITING LIP] — nervous

😝 [SQUINTING FACE WITH TONGUE] — obnoxious

❌ [CROSS MARK] — offensive

👎 [THUMBS DOWN] — pessimistic

🥢 [CHOPSTICKS] — picky

🧊 [ICE] — prejudiced

👏 [CLAPPING HANDS] — proud

😤 [FACE WITH STEAM FROM NOSE] — pushy

🤐 [FACE WITH A ZIPPER MOUTH] — reserved

🍾 [BOTTLE WITH POPPING CORK] — rowdy

💫 [DIZZY SYMBOL] — sarcastic

🐍 [SNAKE] — sassy

😋 [SMILING FACE LICKING LIPS] — scatterbrained

📒 [LEDGER] — secretive

🏴‍☠️ [PIRATE FLAG] — selfish

🥺 [PLEADING FACE] — sensitive

🫣 [FACE WITH PEEKING EYE] — shy

😴 [SLEEPING FACE] — sleepy

💄 [LIPSTICK] — snobbish

👆 [INDEX FINGER] — strict

🥶 [COLD FACE] — stubborn

🤨 [FACE WITH RAISED EYEBROW] — suspicious

😥 [SAD BUT RELIEVED FACE] — timid

🤯 [EXPLODING HEAD] — unstable

💀 [SKULL] — untrustworthy

🤜 [RIGHT-FACING FIST] — uptight

💅 [NAIL POLISH] — vain

⚔️ [CROSSED SWORDS] — vicious

☄️ [COMET] — volatile

🙅 [PERSON GESTURING NO] — vulgar

👿 [ANGRY FACE WITH HORNS] — wrathful

#rp ask memes #rp ask meme #rp memes #rp meme #ask meme #ask memes #ask game #ask games #emoji meme #emoji memes #emoji ask game #emoji ask games #symbols #games #mine

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throneofsapphics · 8 months

Note

haunt me like the wind that blows part 2 or both your pillow sides will stay warm forever 😔

haunt me like the wind that blows (part two)

(part one) (part three)

Feysand x f!Reader

Summary: They weren’t her dreams. They couldn’t be, not after how hard she fought to get away from them.

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: dark feysand, kidnapping, physical/mental abuse, dubcon, a sprinkle of smut, blood, suicide attempt, gaslighting, not proofread well

A/N: that’s one way to motivate me. mind the warnings please y’all!

Rhys had dragged her back to Velaris, and Feyre waited with a beaming smile on her face. She welcomed her back as if she’d taken a small trip away - gone to visit a friend or relative, not fled in desperation.

“I’m so happy you’re home,” she murmured and gathered her in her arms. She had to force herself to remain stiff, to fight the urge to melt into Feyre’s embrace. She despised how right it felt. Nothing about this was right, being dragged back here against her will, stolen away in the middle of the day, from the home and life she built for herself.

She separated herself from the High Lady, taking a few steps back. Feyre watched her warily, like one might watch a feral kitten.

Her eyes darted between her and Rhys.

“Whatever you’re thinking of,” he hissed, “don’t.”

“I’m sure she’s just readjusting,” Feyre soothed, stepping towards her. “Aren’t you my love?” Y/n swallowed harshly and didn’t answer. She frowned at her, and her voice grew a tad colder. “Aren’t you?”

She flinched as Feyre’s hand gripped her shoulder, her nails digging in painfully, but tilted her chin and rolled her shoulders back. “I hate both of you,” she forced as much venom into her voice as she could. Feyre recoiled slightly and she felt Rhys’s glare on her, branding into her side.

Talon’s gripped her mind painfully and she forced her walls up. Her body shook slightly under the effort, and she was rendered helpless as another force battered into her. One of them, she could hold out against but both of them it was nearly impossible.

She grasped her head between her hands, screaming at the top of her lungs. It hurt it hurt it hurt. “Please,” she sobbed, falling to her knees. The pressure was too much, it felt like she would explode - burst into a thousand pieces, her mind gone to the wind and leaving behind a thoughtless, brainless form. As if it was never there, the pressure disappeared.

Both of them bracketed her sides, pulling her hands away. “What happened?” Rhys asked her, his eyes searching her figure for any wounds. As if he hadn’t just …

“You …” she looked at Feyre who had the same questioning look on her face. No indication of what they’d done, a perfect mask crafted on both of their faces. “You tried to break into my mind,” her voice grew shrill and loud - screaming into their faces.

A small sting hit her cheek. Not harsh enough for her to recoil, but enough to surprise her.

“You will watch your tone,” Rhys’s voice was smooth and cold as night, his eyes filled with warning. She lifted her hand to cup the warmth, the small red patch left behind by his palm.

Feyre tilted her chin and pressed a kiss over the patch. Y/n had forgotten about this part of them somehow. One would play good, the other would play bad, and they switched roles frequently to leave her reeling.

Tears filled her eyes, and to her shame they dripped down her cheeks.

Rhys brushed one away, “You’ll be crying a lot more by the time we’re finished teaching you a lesson.”

“Rhys,” Feyre chided, but didn’t counter him.

Her backside was bruised for a week, and that was only the beginning.

“Did anyone else touch you?” Feyre asked so casually she almost missed the intent behind it.

“No.” An honest answer, she didn’t let anyone, neither did she seek anyone out. No matter how much she despised them, it felt wrong and she couldn’t bring herself to do it - even though she wanted to.

“And you?”

“Pardon?” She turned to meet the female’s gaze, finding blue grey eyes filled with predatory intent.

“Did you seek anyone else out, did you touch another?”

“No.” She answered firmly, and saw how some tension left Feyre’s shoulders. They would be able to scent if she had. “I wanted to,” she continued before she could think through it. Feyre’s eyes narrowed, her shoulders tightening again. One hand clenched into a fist, before releasing. She’d already dug herself a hole… “There were plenty of offers,” she shrugged casually, and turned away from her, back to the book she’d picked up. Maybe through some strange stroke of kindness, or desire to endear her to them, Rhys had found the book she’d been reading and bought it for her.

She felt Feyre’s presence standing in front of her, but didn’t look up. Y/n reminded herself that they don’t deserve her attention, her affection, they have no right to it. A gust of wind blew the book away and she bit the inside of her cheek. A hand fisted in the back of her hair, yanking her head back, exposing the arch of her neck. Her mate was furious. Absolutely enraged. Her satisfaction at pissing her off quickly dissipated as she ran a finger down the column of her throat.

“You belong to us,” she hissed, pulling her up to stand.

“I belong to no one,” her voice shook but she forced the words out. The grip on her hair tightened painfully and she winced.

Feyre winnowed them to the bedroom, and she scrambled as soon as they landed - putting as much distance between her and the High Lady as possible.

“You need a reminder,” Feyre said softly, deceptively gentle, “don’t you, my love?”

It wasn’t a question that needed an answer, if Feyre decided she needed one, she would be getting one whether she wanted it or not.

She knew they were in her mind. There’s no way she would’ve developed these kinds of feelings on her own. Dreams of a peaceful life with him and Feyre, of her accepting them wholly - dedicating herself to them.

They weren’t her dreams. They couldn’t be, not after how hard she fought to get away from them.

If they couldn’t get to her in her waking moments, they would attack her in her sleep - and she was completely defenseless against that, the only solution would be to not sleep, but if she was to escape again she needed to be alive and well to do it. Although, with each passing day escape looked less and less likely.

It was early, nearly sunrise, and she felt heat coiling inside her, her entire body tightening, a moan of pleasure left her lips as she writhed on the bed, a strong arm holding her waist down as her legs were propped up on shoulders. Long hair tickled the inside of her thighs as lips sucked against her clit. She arched her back, “Feyre,” she moaned … She shot up in bed.

“Something wrong?” Rhys asked, rolling over to see her. Imprints of the sheets lined his cheeks, but a knowing smile played across his features.

“No,” her throat bobbed with the word as she ignored the wetness pooling between her thighs. “Just startled.”

Rhys had shields surrounding everything. Every window had a shield on it, the door, the entire river estate - if she were allowed outside. She has no doubt in her mind he had set some sort of alarm to tell him every time she opened one, or went out onto the grounds. Half of the time, she’s able to leave the house, although not the estate, but the other half she can't. He, apparently, hadn’t forgotten her idea for permanent freedom because every time she entered a room - any knives or weapons would disappear. As soon as she finished eating, cutlery would disappear.

She stood in the kitchen, alone. Or she thought she was. She eyed the ceramic mug in her hands - one of her favorites. The impulse came over her, and she acted before thinking it through - the mug crashed to the floor, leaving a few sharp pieces behind. She scrambled to gather them, dropping to her knees and ignoring the sharp sting as a part embedded itself into her skin, she would have to dig that out before they got home.

The pieces were stored in her pockets, hidden as best as she could. She cleaned up the remaining bits and hoped Nuala and Cerridwen wouldn’t notice one missing mug.

Somehow, she managed to keep the pieces hidden for a few weeks, long enough for her to be able to use them.

They weren’t due back for another few hours - a visit to Hewn City, and Nuala and Cerridwen were nowhere to be found. Probably spying for Azriel. All the better for her. Over the last several months, she’d spent time trying to earn their trust. Of course, she was still resistant to them at every turn, but showed enough softness for them to start doubting her desire to escape. Enough to balance the line between keeping true to herself, and getting her the time and space to do what she wanted, what she needed.

She found the sharpest piece, and stood by the mirror. Would she really do this? Go through with it. She has no doubt they’ll find her in another lifetime, but they’re immortal - it would give her centuries of peace. Centuries of freedom. She took in a deep breath, and slashed the piece across one wrist. Then the other.

Blood loss quickly overcame her, but she felt a sense of peace - as if her brain was going quiet. The last thing she remembered hearing was Rhys’s yelling - what, she couldn’t tell, and a pair of arms catching her as she fell.

She groaned as she woke, sun rays shining through the windows. She blinked heavily, trying to wipe the sleep and grogginess out of her eyes. Soft sheets surrounded her, an elegant canopy bed … she startled, trying to launch into sitting, but chains yanked her arms behind her, giving her just enough room to sit but not to go any further. Her bedroom, her shared bedroom, at the river estate. A failure, she was a failure.

“I’m quite glad you failed,” Y/n heard Rhys drawl. She ignored his voice, and tugged at the chains. Soft bandages wrapped around her wrist, dulling any sting or scraping from the iron manacles clamped around her.

A shadow loomed over her, and fingers tightly gripped her chin, forcing her to look at him. She met his eyes, and even as fear began to drip through her she tried to throw every bit of defiance she could into her glare. But, something like fear shone in his eyes. Fear and misery and anger. Could it be a mask? Something he’s throwing on to try to …

“No, it’s not.” He interrupted her train of thought.

“Get out of my head,” she growled, narrowing her eyes. Rhys didn’t release his grip on her, and forced her to keep looking at him.

“You have no mental walls left.”

She felt for them, tried to reach them. “You destroyed them.” Her chest tightened, her fists clenched, her breaths grew heavy. Violated, a complete violation of her privacy.

“We did,” he admitted, finally releasing his grip on her. “You lost the right to any privacy when you tried to kill yourself in our bedroom.” The bed shifted as he sat next to her, running one hand down her thigh. She supposes he thought it would be comforting, or soothing. Her body agreed, but her mind hated it - absolutely hated that he was touching her. She took some satisfaction, a tiny amount, in knowing that if he listened he would know just how much she hated it.

His hand trailed up her thigh, pushing the nightgown as he went, exposing more of her bare skin. Her breath caught as he traced the inside curve of her thigh. Against her will, a tightness started to build in her core, just a bodily reaction, she chanted to herself, trying to ignore how arousal crept into his scent.

“I do like you in chains,” he purred into her mind.

“Stop.” She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to separate herself from the sensation. His fingers dragged along the inside of her thighs - ghost like touches that left goosebumps in their wake.

His fingers curled and dug into her skin, harsh enough they would leave bruises behind. “I don’t think you want me to,” hands pushed her shoulders back, laying her out on the bed as he straddled her waist.

She couldn’t do anything about him on top of her, and wasn’t sure she wanted to.

“That’s right,” a midnight soft voice echoed in her mind as he traced a knuckle beneath her breast, before his thumb brushed over her nipple. Her hips keened on reaction, bucking up into him. They didn’t move, not with him atop her, but he didn’t miss the motion and a feline smirk crossed his beautiful features.

His thumb tugged at her bottom lip, releasing it from her teeth. She hadn’t realized she was biting it, or how harshly. A drop of blood had gathered on his finger. His thumb pressed against her lips, and her mouth parted automatically. She tasted her own blood and the slight tang of salt from his skin. His eyes gleamed as her tongue swirled around it. He didn’t have time to pull away as she bit down harshly. Not enough to draw blood or break skin, but just enough to leave imprints behind. He snarled and tugged his finger free, gripping her chin to force her mouth open.

“Still a brat, I see.” He murmured almost reverently.

“Did you expect anything else?” She resisted the urge to spit at him.

His body shifted, and his forearms caged either side of his head. His face, only inches away from her. “I’d be disappointed otherwise.”

A draft hit her as the door swung open, and soft footsteps padded over to their side.

Rhys shifted to lay next to her, moving her so Feyre had room to lay on her other side. Caged in between the two of them. Trapped.

A sickening part of her, the one she wasn’t sure was real, delighted in it. Delighted in being trapped between her two mates - at their mercy. Similar to Rhys’s movements earlier, Feyre stroked up and down her leg, sending a shiver down her spine. “See, this is where you belong,” her voice flittered through her mind.

#READ THE WARNINGS PLEASE #acotar fic #acotar x reader #feysand x y/n #feysand x reader #poly!feysand #poly!feysand x y/n #poly!feysand x reader #rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #feyre archeron x y/n #feyre archeron x reader #dark!feysand #acotar smut

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danikamariewrites · 9 months

Text

Welcome Home (SMUT)

Cassian x reader

A/n: idk where this came from but I’m in a smutty mood so enjoy

Warnings: smut (18+ please), light choking, and praise

As Cassian’s feet hit the balcony you rushed over to him from the lounge chair. “Cassie!” You screamed as you flung yourself around him. “Baby!” He screamed back. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he held you up by your butt.

“Missed you while I was away.” Cassian mumbles, his face resting in the crook of your neck. It had been weeks since you’d seen him and you missed him so much. You hated when he had to make trips to Illyria, mainly because of the toll it took on him.

You didn’t just miss him emotionally but physically too. Your fingers weren’t cutting it anymore and if you had to go one more week without him you were going to explode. You needed him desperately.

As you’re wrapped around him, you thought about how good he’d feel inside you. His thick cock wrapped in your walls. Getting deep inside you, rubbing against that spot that made you see stars. At your thoughts, he scented your arousal. Clearly Cassian had the same thoughts, you could feel his hardness rubbing against your thigh. Cassian started kissing and nipping at your neck

“Fuck, baby I need you.” He breathed out, his voice deep and full of lust. “Need you too Cass.” You whine out. Cassian wastes no time whisking you away to your shared bedroom. He unceremoniously throws you on the bed. You both strip, almost ripping your clothes off at an intense speed.

He climbs on top of you, spreading your legs so you’re on display for him. “Need to get this perfect pussy ready for me baby.” Cassian plunges two thick fingers into your dripping pussy. He thrust his fingers at a brutal pace. It felt so good to have him back with you.

Your pleasure was building and you felt that familiar coil tighten in your stomach. Your toes curled as Cassian brought you to the edge. He felt your walls tighten around his fingers and he pulled out. You whine as your orgasm ebbs away.

Your slick now coating your folds dripping down your thighs. You could see his cock was painfully hard, precum beading at the tip. “Please, please Cass, need you to fuck me.” You couldn’t think straight, you just needed him inside you.

He smirks at your neediness. “Yeah? Just need my cock in you baby.” You let out a whimper as Cassian roughly grabs your hips, flipping you on to your stomach. He pulls your hips up so your ass rubs against his cock. You arch into him desperate for any kind of friction.

Cassian brings his hand down hard on your ass. You lurch forward a little, crying out in pleasure. He rubs his hand over the sore spot. You were sure he left a handprint. Just thinking about being marked up by him made you even wetter.

You bury your face in the sheets moaning as Cassian spreads your knees with his own. He chuckles darkly, “It’s ok princess, I’ll give you what you need just be patient.” He runs his fingers through your folds collecting your slick. Cassian wraps his hand around his cock, coating himself with you as he strokes himself.

He kisses the base of your spine and thrusts his hips forward. Teasing your entrance with the tip of his cock. You try to move back to meet him but Cassian still has a bruising grip on your hips. Another whine leaves your lips and Cassian’s resolve breaks.

He thrusts into you, you moan at the rough feeling as he stills, letting you adjust to his size. The stretch of his cock after not having him for so long feels intense. Soon the odd feeling melts into pleasure. “Move Cass, please fuck,” you moan out. “Fuck,” he says under his breath as he pulls out and slams into you again.

You moan again as Cassian sets a brutal pace that out does his fingers. After being apart for so long this was what you needed. The sensual touches could come later. When he fucks you like hed never have you again it felt too good.

Cassian’s hips slap against your ass as he pulls you to meet his thrusts. Your moans mix with his. “Fuck Cass, so good,” your voice comes out high pitched and broken.

He was so deep inside you it made your eyes roll into the back of your head. You could feel every ridge and vein on his cock. You could feel his tip against that spot that always sent you over the edge. He hit it repeatedly as he went in and out, in and out. You were still sensitive from your earlier orgasm being ripped away from you.

At this point you were babbling. His name mixed with a string of swears falling from your mouth. “So fuckin’ perfect for me. You always take me so well, fuck.” He pants.

Your walls flutter around him and he groans, throwing his head back. He stills inside you to pull you up to be flush to his chest. Cassian wraps one arm around your stomach, the other brushing over your breasts, moving to wrap his hand lightly around your throat.

Your eyes flutter shut as your head rests against his powerful chest. Cassian gives your throat a light squeeze and begins thrusting again. You feel that tightness in your stomach return. “I know your close baby, me too. Be a good girl, show me how much you love my cock.”

His lower hand moves down to rub at your clit. You grasp at his arms your moans become louder and louder. The stimulation is almost too much. “Ah-Cass, I’m gonna-“ Your cut off by your orgasm rushing through you. Your thighs shake and you claw at Cassian’s hand on your clit.

He continues to thrust until he’s spilling into you. Coating your walls with his thick come.

He slows as you come down, your breathing heavy and your body going limp against his. Cassian slowly lays you down, and pulls out of you. He lays next to you, pulling you to his chest. You’re both panting, holding onto each other.

You run your hand over Cassian’s sweat coated chest. Tracing his intricate tattoos, kissing them as your fingers leave his warm skin. He pulls you closer and kisses the top of your head. “Cass?” You say, yawning from the workout he just gave you. “Yeah baby?” “Never leave me for that long again.” “Never, baby.”

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader imagine #acotar reader fic #acotar imagine #cassian acotar #cassian acotar x reader #cassian acosf #cassian smut #cassian imagine #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian fanfic

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tsumtsumrry · 11 months

Text

Piper

(3.4k words, literal porn without plot, sub!harry, husband!harry, language ofc, there’s a butt plug, a cock ring, and a very needy harry. )

i’ve gotten so many requests for subby harry so i decided to just write something fun before i have to go back to the serious stuff. k bye

Harry is sitting at the dinner table, knees bouncing and fingers tapping. He feels like he’s losing his fucking mind.

“You’ve hardly touched your food, H.” Piper says, effectively getting Harry’s attention. His head shoots up to look at her, a somewhat frustrated expression on his face. “Are you feeling alright?”

Harry knows that she knows he’s not “feeling alright”, and he thinks that that’s the most frustrating part.

Piper gets up from her seat to walk over to Harry, she brings her hand up to his forehead and he involuntarily leans into the touch. “You don’t feel warm…”

“M’fuckin’ burning up.” he mumbles, praying she didn’t hear him. If there’s one thing about Piper, it’s that she’s somewhat strict with attitude. She hates when Harry gives her attitude, doesn’t tolerate it. Harry is already aching for her, if he upsets her, he’ll only make his situation worse.

Piper moves her hand to the back of his head and tangles her soft fingers in Harry’s hair. His head leans back even more to follow her touch and she smiles at him. “Think you need to sleep it off?”

Harry looks at her, wondering whether or not that was a rhetorical question, but the tug she gives his hair tells him he was supposed to answer. The pull to his hair at least let him know that she’s actually in the bedroom mood, she wasn’t giving him much else indication.

“No...no, m’not tired.”

“What do you need then? Hmm?” she questions even though she knows the answer, her voice going soft like it does when they’re outside of the bedroom.

“You. You please.” he responds and she smiles.

“Alright then. Clean all of this up and then meet me upstairs.”

Harry fights the urge to scream, because he’s about to fucking explode and now she’s making him do dishes? He keeps telling himself when he finishes the dishes he’ll be able to get what he wants, but he knows as soon as he gets to the bedroom he’ll be teased even more.

Harry grumbles and gets to work on the dishes, having to refrain from smashing every plate, glass, or cup he sees and when he finishes he feels like he could cry.

He walks up the steps to their bedroom, fidgeting, barely keeping still. He’s been waiting for this the entire day, it’s all he could think about. He wants everything she’s willing to give him, he just wants her.

Piper hears his quick footsteps, she smiles at how clearly eager he is, and decides to tease him a bit.

“Harry? What’s taking so long, bub?” he can hear the smirk in her voice, and he can’t tell if he wants to growl or melt at it.

He quickens his steps and Piper has to stifle a giggle. When he walks into the room, he looks around and he has to bite down hard on his bottom lip to stop a desperate whimper from coming out. Piper is sitting on the edge of the bed, lip subtly between her teeth.

On the bed, is a cock ring and a butt plug.

Saying Harry is excited is a bit of an understatement.

Piper watches his eyes widen, and she catches an abrupt twitch in his pants. Harry looks from the things on the bed to her face trying to convey his excitement without words, but Piper can definitely tell how excited she is.

“Come here, Harry.” Piper beckons with a quick motion of her index and middle finger. Harry doesn’t waste any time walking over to her, stopping when he’s standing right where she is sitting. She taps his side and he takes that as a sign to kneel. He lowers himself until he’s on his knees between her slightly spread legs and then rests his head comfortably on her thigh.

Piper smiles at how fucking adorable he is, and then brings his head up with her hand. He pouts because he knows that when he kneels he usually gets to taste her. Tasting her is a privilege to him, he loves it, and can’t stand it when she takes it away.

Piper shakes her head at his pout and opens her mouth to speak, “I have an idea.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrow and his pout lessens a little bit, “wha’ is it?” He’s talking slower and thicker due to how overcome with lust he is and Piper fights the urge to shift her thighs at the sound of it.

“Well…” she pauses to give him a slow kiss, “you’ve been working so hard lately, been so good. Was thinking I could dedicate a night to just you. Hmm? Make you cum so hard you see stars?”

Harry’s mouth parts slightly at her words and he tries to prevent his eyes from rolling back into his head at the butterflies that just swarmed through every part of his body.

Piper sees his reaction and gives him an endearing smile, “that sound like a good idea to you?”

You’d think Harry would jump at the chance, but he was seriously debating the idea in his head. He knew that when she said ‘dedicate a night to just you’ she literally meant just him. He’s missed being between her legs, or feeling her clenched tightly around his fingers.

To Piper's surprise, he shakes his head. “I wanna make you cum.” he says slowly, mumbling.

Piper purses her lips and looks off in thought and Harry stares intensely at her, following every movement. When she looks back to him and his eyes are already on her, she smiles. “S’your night. You can make me cum after you do. Understand?”

Harry fights the urge to pout, because he knows she hates when he’s ungrateful, and at least he gets to pleasure her. Even if it’s not right this second.

“Go sit up on the bed babe.” Piper instructs and Harry follows her directions instantly.

Piper is walking around the room, getting what she thinks they need for whatever she plans to do for him and he can’t help but watch and admire her. She’s just so perfect to him, she has been since the day they met.

He asked her to be his girlfriend a month and a half of knowing her, his brain kept telling him he rushed it, jumped the gun, but every time he saw her, just her presence alone seemed to calm all his anxiety (which he had a lot of). And when they got married, it was perfect, there literally wasn’t a doubt in his mind that this was the right choice, that she was the one.

Harry has to have control over a lot of things in his life, a lot of meticulous important things that need constant attention and care. When him and Piper first started getting intimate, it didn’t surprise her that he preferred to relinquish control in the bedroom. Being with Piper was a calm escape from all the bad shit in his life, he didn’t wanna think when he was inside of her, tasting her, hearing her, he just wanted to feel.

Harry thinks she’s the most beautiful, alluring, kind person in the entire world (although she often argues that it’s him instead), it’s not hard to fully trust and give everything he has to her.

He’s pulled out of his love haze when Piper taps him on the hip, holding up the items previously on the bed that made his cock twitch.

“Is it ok if I use these on you tonight?” Piper asks, to which Harry nods quickly and adds verbal consent.

She nods and then motions to his pants, “take those off. Underwear too.”

He does as she asks and Piper gives him a soft smile, although she’s being dominant, she’s more of a soft dom. Always assuring Harry that he’s safe, never giving him more than he can handle (although it is always fun to push limits).

“You okay?” Harry nods. “Just gonna prep you for the plug a bit...that ok?”

At this, Harry lights up in excitement, quickly nodding his head and mumbling chants of ‘yes’ and ‘please’ he loves when she uses her fingers.

“Want you to be on your back so I can see you at all times, yeah?” she whispers, bringing her hand up to stroke Harry’s face gently, and then sensually comb through his hair.

Harry moves to the positioning she wants him in, his knees slightly bent in the air. He’s fisting the sheets gently in anticipation, not wanting to wait any longer to finally get what he’s been craving all day. The closeness and the pleasure he feels when he’s with her is like no other. It gets his limbs shaking and his toes curling, he never wants to go without it.

As soon as he hears the sound of a cap opening and closing, his cock twitches, and Piper smirks absentmindedly, still looking at the bottle of lube.

Harry wants to squirm and try to get any type of friction on his cock, but he knows Piper would reprimand him for it.

Piper makes her way over to him and gets in between his legs, “gonna be cold for a second, kay?” They’ve done this plenty of times before, but Piper makes sure to remind him every time. Communication is key in things like this.

Harry nods eagerly, not caring if it’s cold or hot or blue or pink, he just wants her hands on him, or rather, in him.

Piper circles her index finger around his entrance and he gasps softly at the feeling. Piper always makes sure to be extra careful with him, making sure he’s comfortable at all times. Sometimes she’s a little rough with him (per his request of course), but she’s way too gentle of a soul to ever really hurt him unless he blatantly asked for it.

As soon as she slips her finger in, Harry lets out a drawn out moan that Piper smirks at. She toys with him for a couple minutes, hearing moans from Harry along the lines of “yes” and “fuck, right there. That’s it”, until he tells her he’s ready, and when he sees the silver butt plug, with the sparkling jewel on the tail of it, he starts to grow impatient.

“Please fill me. Please, Pipes.”

“Be patient, baby.” she counters and he groans.

She slowly slips the plug inside of him and she gets a keening moan from Harry in response.

“Yes….oh―yes” his pleasured statement starts in a whisper and ends in a hiss.

“Good?” Piper asks him. His only response is rutting his hips down into the mattress, rocking the toy against the inside of him the best way in the process. He does it again, once, twice, before Piper finally stops him by grabbing a hold of his thigh.

He whines but she tuts, “stop, Harry.” He nods obediently, not wanting to upset her and also wanting to get that pure bliss he’s been craving for what seems like an eternity.

Piper had something special planned tonight, something they’ve only tried a couple of times since Piper likes to save it for special occasions.

She had brought out the vibrating cock ring. There isn’t much of a visible difference between the regular one and the vibrating one so she can tell he hasn’t quite caught on yet.

She can’t fight the smirk that’s set on her face when she thinks about how shocked Harry will be when he feels that jolt of pleasure. She knows he’s always been a bit fond of the vibrating cock ring, says it’s one of his favorite things she uses in the bedroom, hence why she doesn’t use it too much. She loves to keep him on his toes, leave him begging for more.

Harry’s trying his absolute hardest not to squirm, he feels his muscles twitching, his hands are clenched into a fist, trying his best to ignore how hard he is. He just wants to be good. Her good boy.

There’s something about the idea of her telling him that he’s getting all the pleasure tonight. Something about the thought that he’s going to feel everything, his favorite feeling of getting lost in the pleasure and not having to think about a thing but how sexy his wife is.

“Gonna put the ring on now m’kay? You remember s’pretty snug, right?” Piper inquires. She’s very adamant on checking on him at all times, them both being comfortable and safe in the bedroom is her top priority.

“Yeah, m’good.” he responds, his voice is so hoarse and filled with gravel and he tries and fails to fight the urge to smirk because he knows it’s causing a pool in Piper’s underwear.

Piper knows exactly what he’s thinking, though, and she can’t wait until she can wipe that cocky smirk off of his pretty face.

Piper takes a hold of his cock, using her other hand to swipe her index finger over his wet tip and he hisses harshly at the contact, “fuckin’―t-teasin’.” he grits out, teeth grinding.

Piper smiles evilly and takes the good bit of pre-cum from his tip, spreading it all over his shaft, getting him properly lubed up for the ring. She thinks a little fun isn’t too bad, she leans down to leave an open-mouthed kiss at his tip, letting her eyes roll back into her head when she hears the moan that leaves him.

“Please stop teasin’ me baby. I―I can’t―.” he’s been waiting for so long for this. He honestly doesn’t think he can take anymore of her cruel teasing.

She pouts genuinely at him, and the obvious strain in his voice. She can tell he’s fighting so hard to be good, and that’s what fuels her to finally get on with it.

“It’s okay, angel. M’gonna take such good care of you.” Piper reassures him and he nods absentmindedly, his eyes fluttering shut.

She takes the ring in her hand and eases it down his cock, Harry squeezes his eyes shut and a quiet whimper escapes him, “good?” Piper asks.

“Yeah, yeah. S’good.”

“I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?” Piper says, causing Harry cock to jump a bit. He breathes out a scoff of disbelief at the effect she has on him with just a couple of words.

Piper joins him on the bed and swings her leg around his waist, sitting gently atop his cock, “you can touch, babe.” Harry’s hands immediately go to her waist, squeezing and prodding at the skin; he’s happy at the contact.

“Thank you, thank you.” he says, his voice nearing a whisper.

She grabs his cock and places it at her entrance, he revels at the warmth she brings and she shudders because she’s finally getting contact on her core.

She decides to take him by surprise, sliding down in one fluid movement, it was easy given how wet she is. He chokes out a shocked moan, squeezing her waist harshly and shifting his hips subconsciously.

She starts to move, urging pleasured moans and whimpers out of Harry. She’s waiting until he’s exceptionally needy to turn the vibrations on. She wants to make the experience that much better for him.

She’s bouncing and swiveling down on him in fast-paced motions, Harry’s hips are periodically ticking up to meet her thrusts, moaning at every slight movement. He feels in heaven.

“That feels so―oh! Fuck, Pipes.” he moans, his eyes rolling back into his head at the feeling of her tightening around him.

Piper figures it’s time.

She reaches behind her, but she’s still bouncing on Harry. He’s so lost in pleasure with his eyes squeezed shut he probably hasn’t even noticed she’s moved.

As soon as she’s got the remote control in her hand, she switches it on.

“Fuck! Fuck, baby.” Harry moans out, louder than he has been the whole night (and that’s pretty fucking loud), “I―baby…it’s so...shit,” he’s so fucking vocal today, and Piper loves it.

“You’re so loud, angel. I’m making you feel that good?” she says condescendingly, knowing he loves it.

Harry’s only response is just whispered chants of “fuck” and keens along with some whimpers. There’s so many sensations, he can barely keep up. His wife is tight around him, much like the cock ring that’s shaking him to his core, and every time Piper moves, the plug he has in nudges his sensitive prostate causing immeasurable amounts of pleasure to course through his veins. He’s never felt this good.

Piper’s struggling with the added amount of sensations too (another reason she usually keeps the vibrating cock ring locked up), between Harry’s cock hitting the right spot with every swivel and bounce and the vibrator feels like it’s literally passing through every part of her body while also nudging her clit. She can’t get enough.

She feels her release brewing in her stomach, knowing from his tell-tale signs of his legs shaking and his moans reaching a higher pitch, that Harry’s close too.

“You aren’t allowed to cum until I say so, okay?” Piper rushes out, she can see how he’s trying to chase his release.

“I won’t. I won’t cum. Please don’t stop, please.”

Piper is tipping over the edge, her chest is heaving, legs shaking, her moans getting more frequent, louder and louder and higher and higher, she’s quickly losing her resolve. Thinking about Harry and how he’s feeling the best he can right now, plus how fucking good he feels inside her, is what sends her pummeling over the edge.

“Oh my fucking―I’m coming, fuck! Harry, Harry!” she continues to chant out his name like it’s a prayer, completely losing herself in the earth-shattering high she’s experiencing. She crashes down into Harry’s chest, almost completely taken out by that orgasm.

So much so she almost doesn’t hear Harry’s whimpering and pleading, only then does she remember that she told him he couldn’t come until she gave him permission.

“Baby? Baby I c-can’t―you feel so― I need, I need―fuck. Please, please please...please. Can I come? Tell me I can come, please.” he’s barely coherent, babbling out whatever comes to mind, whatever he thinks will get him the orgasm he so badly wants.

The room is filled with the sound of the steady buzzing, Piper’s pants and Harry’s incessant pleading.

He feels himself toppling over the edge, it feels so strong and he honestly cannot put any more of his energy into trying to postpone it. He wants to be good but it’s becoming increasingly harder as time goes on.

His voice starts to get frantic. “Piper, Pipes. I need―Need to come. T-tell me I can come, Pipes. It’s―it’s too much.”

Piper finally grips her bearings, barely recovering from the pleasure she just experienced. “It’s okay, my good boy, you can come. Come for me, you deserve it. You’re so good.”

Harry’s hyperventilating at this point, so much so that Piper is worried that she might need to grab his inhaler, “thank you thank you thank you.” he’s rambling, near losing his fucking mind and he loves it.

He finally comes with a loud strangled moan, emptying himself into her warmth, finally feeling that indescribable bliss he’s been yearning for for so long. He sobs out obscene moans, legs shaking and chanting “thank you” underneath his breath.

Piper just watches it all happen, and it’s exactly what she wanted, she wanted him to feel like this. It’s how she always feels when she’s with him.

His hips tick up a couple more times lazily, almost as if it’s involuntary and small whines and whimpers slip through his plump lips. Piper hisses from the hint of sensitivity, but takes it.

She feels Harry’s tense muscles finally lax under her and she sighs, leaning down to take his lips into a passionate kiss.

“How the fuck was that, huh? You did so fucking good. Took everything so well” she says with an adoring smile on her face, combing her hands through the matter and tangled bush of brown on Harry’s head

“You are so perfect, insane. It felt insane. Just…” he brings his hands in front of him and mimics an explosion “...wow.”

“Glad you liked it,” she giggles, “I loved it too.”

“You up for a bath?” Piper asks. At that, Harry lets out a loud cackle throwing his head back, showing off a vein that was protruding earlier.

“Baby I don’t think I can use my legs,” he laughs “just cuddle me for a bit, yeah?”

Piper nuzzles her head into his shoulder and nods, fighting to keep her eyes open, knowing that if she falls asleep, they’ll never get up to have that bath and they’ll stay just like this with him tucked safely inside of her.

But really, what’s so bad about that?

#harry styles one shot #harry styles writing #harry styles smut #sub!harry #subrry #harry smut #old

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tadc-ragatha · 6 months

Text

It's Symbolic - Chapter 1: Puke

TW: Screaming, (painless) torture (what Pomni went through in the teaser), vomit/general sickness, centipedes (bugs), knives, a large/dangerous animal, (censored) swearing

Type: Fic; platonic

A/N: "You wake up somewhere new feeling very, very sick." Teen gender-neutral reader. Based on a post of mine available here [x]. I did my best here alright. I'm still working my way into characterisation.

"What—what's going on?! What the hell is going on?!" a voice screamed.

You looked around. Everything was a fuzzy mixture of dark colours, and your head was spinning. Reaching out, you grabbed onto the ground and tried to feel your way around.

"Now, are you ready for the show to begin?" a different more masculine voice boomed. A silence followed. "I said, are you ready?"

You were feeling at wooden plank flooring. Everything was dark, making it hard to find your way around as you felt like your brain was going to explode. Vomit was filling its way up your throat as you struggled to get to your feet.

"I'm ready, Caine!" said a third voice. It was cartoonishly cheerful and pierced into your brain.

Your legs giving way once more, you decided to crawl your way forward. It was hard to tell what direction you were going with your eyes yet to adjust to the darkness. However, feeling with your hands, you felt yourself brush up against a soft fabric. Using it as a guide, you crawled in its direction.

Yet just as your head was beginning to calm, a loud drum roll erupted. Instantly, your head was pounding again, and the nausea returned. Threatening to spill, you clamped your hand over your mouth.

Only, as you did so, you did not feel your mouth nor your hand. Instead, you felt thick hair all over your face and a cold round piece of metal. Moving your hand around, nothing changed. Every inch of your body was covered in long hair. Except for your hands, which as you felt them were wide slightly curved in metal circles—nothing like a normal human hand.

The drum roll stopped as a bounty of music filled the air. It was so much louder than the drums and sent your head splitting. With a sharp inhale, you tried to crawl through the pain. But with each crawl you were met with the music becoming louder. They were ear-splitting, head-smashing, brain-melting circus tunes.

"First up," the masculine voice who you assumed was Caine continued, "we have our jester Pomni on the amazing knife-throwing wheel!"

A "fwip" sound followed by a thud was heard.

"Hey! hey!" the voice from the start pleaded; one you assumed belonged to the so-called jester Pomni. "I didn't sign up for this! Let me go!"

Next you noted on the list of ear bleeding-inducing sounds was a comically stereotypical sound of something metal being revealed. You assumed it was a knife. And you guessed you were correct, as based on the blood-curdling screams from Pomni as the knife hit something with a thud.

The screams died down as Caine went on to say, "next up, the mind-boggling Gangle with her comically large and dangerous pet tiger!"

You heard the fwip and thud again, which was no help to your increasing headache. The tiger growled from somewhere nearby. Vomit was threatening to shoot out your mouth again. You spat all the saliva you could get out.

From the same direction as the growl was blubbering. Soon, it turned into full blown crying as the tiger growled louder. But you didn't care; the headache was too much.

The tiger's growling came to a stop as you heard the schlop of something wet hitting the floor. Yet the crying continued. Meanwhile, Caine went on to introduce something else.

"And now, our bravest Ragatha will dive head-first into a pool of writhing centipedes!"

"Caine!" a feminine voice complained. You heard the fwip and thud a third time. "You know how much I hate centipedes!"

"Is she going to do it?" The cheery voice asked.

Caine replied, "well, Bubble, I don't know! Why don't we give her a little encouragement?"

"Wait! No! No, no, no--hold on!" Ragatha pleaded. Without what you assumed was any care, something happened to Ragatha and she started screaming.

It was starting to get hard to spit the saliva out without having vomit come up your throat. As you tried to spit some more out, a pile of bile spilled out of your guts and onto the floor. Everything was spinning again as you felt another wave of vomit coming up. Finally, you gave up on moving and sat there on your hands and knees trying to keep steady.

"And now, please put your hands together for Kinger and his--" Caine was cut off. As the fwip was heard once more, light poured into your eyes as you gave in and puked your guts out. Wave after wave and pile after pile of pure bile spilled out of your mouth and onto the floor. It was too painful to take in the gasps around you, nor the fact that your vomit was black like ink.

Slowly, the spewing came to a halt. As you looked down, you finally saw what a mess you had made, and how your body did not at all look like how it was supposed to. Where you could feel hair was exactly that—thick long brown strands of hair covering everything—and where you could feel metal were gold circular metal plates. Cymbals.

"Looks like someone had a rough transition!" Bubble exclaimed.

Wearily, you looked up and around to try and get a sense of what you were dealing with. All around you were six strange figures of different colours, sizes, and proportions. Levitating in the air were two of the figures; one a clear bubble-like sphere with sharp teeth and beady black eyes, and another that seemed to be a living set of teeth and eyes atop a red suit. A giant tub of centipedes, a tiger, and a dart board sat off to the side.

The sphere, who you assumed was Bubble with its cheery voice, levitated towards you. Opening its mouth, you froze. All that ran through your mind was based on the screams of terror you had heard you were going to die. Yet just as you closed your eyes and prepared for impact, Bubble stuck out its tongue and began to lick at the puke.

The teeth man sighed. Based on his voice you assumed he was Caine. But his expression quickly changed as he pointed his cane towards you.

"Well, it seems our activity for today has been interrupted by a new human entering the realm!" He smiled.

From behind you, a red curtain was lifted up. From underneath, a purple rabbit poked his head out. He walked out into the area, took one look at the mess you made, and grimaced.

"What the hell is goin' on here?" he asked. "Is this a new sucker?"

"Not a new sucker, Jax," Caine responded, "but a new friend!”

You groaned. Your entire throat was burning from the bile and your headache was worse than ever. The sudden light made your eyes hurt. Meanwhile, you were trying to take in all the information around you. Reaching up to your face, you tried to grab at something around your eyes. But there was nothing there.

“Where am I? Where’s the headset?” you mumbled.

All of a sudden, you felt yourself be yanked up by the arm. A new wave of vomit threatened to spill. Looking up, you found yourself face to face with Caine.

He said, “my dear, you have stumbled into the world of the Digital Circus!”

“I’m gonna be sick—”

“Now, now, no time for being sick here!” he cut you off. “You’ve made your way into the world of wonder and amazement!” he paused. “Hence the name.”

“What the hell is going on?” a different voice called out. Poking their head out from behind the same curtain Jax emerged from, they revealed itself as a strange amalgamation of different brightly coloured shapes. The two eyes on their pink triangle head widened when it saw you. “What the f-%$@!#?” they yelled, the curse word they said bleeped out in real time. “Another one?! Pomni was only a week ago!”

“Zooble! Language!” Caine pointed at her with the cane in his hand. Zooble didn’t say anything.

“Okay, everyone, let’s just calm down.” A different person stepped forward. She wasn’t the shortest of the bunch—being taller than the small jester you assumed was Pomni shivering off to the side with knives stuck in her—but she wasn’t the tallest, either. Flicking a centipede off her long dress, she said, “you know how stressful this can be. Let’s just take a minute to help them adjust.”

“Come on, Ragatha.” Jax rolled his eyes.

“Who…Who are you people?” You looked around the room.

Jax put his fist on his hip and cocked his head to the side, grinning.

“Why don’t you tell me who you are?” His smile spread wider, showing off a set of yellow cartoonish teeth. It concerned you how he managed to speak without opening them.

“Jax!” Ragatha snapped.

“I’m…” you started. Jax continued to stare at you, still smiling. “My name is…”

“Can’t remember?” he finally spoke up.

You turned away from the group. With your head resting on your hand—or cymbal—you tried to think. The headache was still pounding in your head, and it was hard to formulate any thoughts. Wracking your brain for an answer for a good few minutes, your breath started to quicken. Slowly, the answer dawned upon you.

“Oh my God!” you groaned. Jax chuckled from the side. “Oh my God! What’s my name?!”

“Don’t fret, my dear.” Caine rested a hand on your shoulder. “Nobody can remember their name here! One beauty of coming to the digital world is being able to form a whole new identity for yourself! So, what would your dream name be?”

“What’s my name?” you mumbled.

Caine cleared his throat, repeating, “I said, what would your dream name be?”

“I—I don’t—uh, [Y/N]. What’s my name?” You tried to rest your face in your hands; it was uncomfortable.

“[Y/N] it is!” He spun up into the air, voice booming. Meanwhile, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes.

“I just wanna go home. How do I go home?”

He cleared his throat, “well, um…There—well, there is no…Exit, per se.”

“Wh—what?!” you spluttered.

You looked at the group for answers. Instead, they looked at you with varying degrees of frowns and upturned eyebrows. Except for Jax, who grinned, and Zooble, who looked at you with a claw on his hip.

“How old are you?” they asked. “You don’t sound any older than seventeen.”

“I’m fifteen,” you replied. “How—why—why’s there no exit? How do I leave?”

“Fif—” she cut herself off. “Holy f-%$@!#, Caine! What’s your problem?!”

Caine gasped, “‘fifteen’? My, my! Finally, a real young person here to enjoy the Digital Circus!”

“What, you sayin’ I’m not young?” Jax scoffed.

Zooble groaned, multicoloured and oddly shaped antennae on her head twitching, “God, Jax, just shut up for one second. This is a child!”

“Fifteen?” a meek voice sounded from off to the side. Looking over, you saw a spring of red ribbon with ribbon legs and arms. Lying on the ground beside it was a broken mask, the same material and colour as the crying face mask it wore.

From beside them, Pomni watched. Eyes darting from person to person, she looked extremely uncomfortable with the commotion. Slowly, she backed up from the group.

“What’s going on?” she whispered. Nobody took notice.

“Okay, okay, listen!” Ragatha tried to instruct them. “Our number one priority should be making sure [Y/N] feels safe and comfortable here, not fighting with each other!”

“You’re right, Ragatha!” Caine said, voice still jolly. “Poor [Y/N] here hasn’t even gotten a tour of the grounds yet!” He lowered down to reach for your arm.

Ragatha reached out her own arm to block him, yelling, “wait! Caine, would it be alright if we did the tour later? I think [Y/N] would like to see their room first, right, [Y/N]?”

You didn’t reply. Your mind was spinning, but no longer from the headache or dizziness. While the nausea had subsided, your thoughts were swarming you. Theories and concerns flooded your brain, nagging at your conscious and slowly tearing it down. Sitting there on the ground with your head in your cymbal-hands, you swayed back and forth.

“Right. Well, I’ll let you get to that. Come on, Bubble,” he called the sphere over to him. Once it was within reach, he popped it. With that, he bowed with his top hat and disappeared in a poof of smoke, the tiger going with him.

For a few seconds nobody spoke. Looking up, you saw Zooble’s antennae still twitching while they frowned at Jax, who watched you with an open-mouthed smile. Ragatha took a deep breath and walked over to you. Holding out her hand, you took it, and she pulled you up to your feet.

“You can tell Kinger it’s safe to come out now.” She motioned to a pile of pillows behind the group. From inside popped out the head of a giant white chess piece. It wore a purple king’s robe; its uneven eyes blinked out of sync.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

“Y—yeah, what’s going on?” Pomni asked, still shaking.

Ragatha answered, “we’re going to take our newest friend [Y/N] to their room. Anyone want to come?”

Nobody answered, until the ribbon figure spoke up, saying, “okay.”

“Great! Come on Gangle. [Y/N], I’ll show you around.” Taking your hand in hers, she and Gangle walked towards the edge of the stage. Looking back, you saw the group watching you intently. But no sooner had you looked over at them that you were pulled away, view blocked by a black curtain.

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