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#a mask to hide the beast
dyketubbo · 2 months
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its like nearly 4am my time but i am so desperate to know actually ive only met like one or two people who know about this but pleaaaaasseee tell me one of yall know about the fucking newscapepro minecraft undertale roleplays. shubble was in them she played frisk theres a whole channel trying to archive all the content related to it who else watched this. bc i remember being a kid and watching the whole series and being obsessed with it including the extra content too
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ccruelgods · 3 months
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strangedt thing that jappened in a nightmarewas actually a quote.imvactively repressinf the nightmareitself but there was an interactionbetween 2 characters on the dreamtv where one of yhemhad a mask covering their face and the other ripped it off. and itwent domething like "now that you know it was me all along, you can't kill me!!" and the other characterwent "no, now i just want to kill you even more!!" and someone outsideof dreamtv said something about how knowing the person hurting you or causing a lot of pain usually makes it harder to get rid of them and i think thats an interesting convept
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cityandking · 6 months
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oc asks: not-so-nice edition
alone: How does your OC deal with loneliness? Have they ever been completely alone before? How do they act when there's no one around to see them?
betrayal: Has your OC ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? Has your OC ever betrayed someone who trusted them?
bound: Has your OC ever been imprisoned or captured? What happened? How did they get out? Did the experience leave any scars?
break: What would cause your OC to break down completely? What do they look like when that happens? Has anyone ever seen them at their lowest?
desire: What's one thing your OC wants more than anything in the world? Are they open with that desire? Why or why not? What would they do to fulfill it?
failure: What's your OC's greatest failure? Have they been able to move past it? Does anyone else know about it?
fear: What is your OC's greatest fear? What do they do when confronted with it? Are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?
future: What's the worst possible future for your OC? Are they taking steps to avoid that outcome? Are they even aware it's a possibility?
ghost: Who or what haunts your OC? What happened? How do they live with their ghosts?
guilt: What is your OC guilty about? How do they handle their guilt? Do they try to avoid guilt, or do they accept it?
hate: What does your OC hate? Why? How do they act towards the object of their hatred?
heartbreak: Have they ever had a relationship that ended badly? Experienced some other kind of heartbreak? What happened?
hide: What does your OC hide? Why do they hide it?
hunt: Who or what is your OC hunted by? A person, a feeling, a past mistake? Is your OC able to let their guard down, or are they constantly alert?
mask: Does your OC wear a mask, literally or figuratively? What goes on beneath it? Is there anyone in their life who gets to see who they are under the mask?
midnight: What keeps your OC up at night? Do they have nightmares? Fears? Anxieties? What do they do in the small hours of the morning when they should be sleeping?
mistake: What's the worst mistake your OC ever made? What led to them making it? Have they been able to fix it? How have they moved on?
monster: Is your OC monstrous in any way? Is there something that makes them monstrous? Are they aware of their own monstrosity? Do they accept it or reject it?
nightmare: What does your OC have nightmares about? How do they deal with their nightmares? Do they tell people, or keep it to themself?
pain: What's the worst pain your OC has ever felt? Do they have a high pain tolerance?
secret: What's one secret your OC never wants anyone to know about them?
skin: How comfortable is your OC in their skin? Do they grapple with anything that lives inside them—a beast, a curse, a failure, a monster? How do they face the smallest, weakest, most horrible version of themself? Are they able to acknowledge it at all?
torture: Has your OC ever been tortured? Would your OC ever torture someone else?
wound: How does your OC handle being wounded? Are their wounds mostly physical? Mental? Emotional? What's the worst wound your OC has ever experienced?
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ew-selfish-art · 6 months
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Dp x Dc AU: That one episode of teen titans where they all dress up as Robin + Tim being a gremlin about his legacy + Danny look alike/twin AU.
So there is that episode of Teen Titans where Starfire, Cyborg, Beast Boy and Raven all dress as Robin (Dick) while he's out and it's admitted that the outfit makes them feel cool. Imagine a young Tim hearing that story mentioned in passing by Dick while trying to manage what becomes Young Just-us. And then when Damain becomes Robin?? Gremlin mode activated.
Tim hosts regular 'Robin' Parties, where the idea is that you come in Robin colors, get a mask at the door and everyone gets to basically hang out in civilian clothes without the identity crises for those just getting started. "age appropriate" drinks, games, and good music are all staples. The parties become more frequent once Damian becomes Robin and he pointedly doesn't attend Tim's parties which... Neither of them are really happy about. Family is complicated, but finally, after a few years of cooling off, it's decided that Robin will actually host this years Robin party.
Meaning Tim shows up in casual clothes (MIT sweatshirt) and a mask, and Damian is actually dressed as Robin when the party is starting to get into the swing of things. The point of it is to make sure all the young heroes get to come and start to befriend each other, so there are a few people who show up and have to actually say that they're *insert alias* and this is met with basically "Dope, nice to meet you Robin" etc.
Insert Danny Twin AU (Or just look-alike fuckery) (for either brother but my brain is on Tim Twin au mode).
Danny decides to show up as his human self, grabs a mask at the door before coming in, and is slowly integrating himself into a conversation when someone grabs his arm- "Hey Red your brother is fighting with a newbie about meat products again-"
And Danny doesn't have a brother but my god has he heard this fight too many times with Sam and Tucker- He's going in and he's defusing this situation because he cannot handle the thought of this argument taking over his new friend group. He deals with it enough, okay?
Robin (like, the real one) looks at him curiously while Danny is talking down the other hero Robin (insert here), and the whole room notices when Robin doesn't take the opportunity to dismiss or belittle his older brother (Lmao because its danny). Damian cannot place his unease about Drake (again, Danny, who is not hiding his identity beyond a mask), and simply decides that this isn't worth the effort.
The party moves on but now instead of everyone calling themselves Robin, Danny is distinctly being called Red. It confuses him a bit, he didn't even know Red Robin was going to be at this party (he hasn't met the guy and doesn't know the lore), but he rolls with it because he's made fast friends with Robin (Bart), Robin (Cassie) and Robin (JON). The kid was full little bro energy and it made Danny laugh, he was so surprised when the real Robin joined them and fell into easy conversation with Robin (Jon).
Danny is playing games with a few others when someone goes to grab a broom to clean up- Turns out Red Robin and his boyfriend Kon had been making out in the closet for most of the party- and the whole room looks at Danny like he's tried to trick them. Tim is at first uneasy that so many people mistook him, but once he's in front of his dupe, puzzle pieces start to move around in his head.
"And who are you again, Robin?" Tim asks carefully, though he suspects he has his answer.
"Uh, Phantom, but you know, a lot of people were calling me Red tonight and I didn't get why until just now." Danny laughs nervously.
"Yeah I bet- Find me monday and we can see about a geneology test."
"That leaves us the whole weekend, to do what exactly? Fuck with people by pulling a parent trap style swap?"
"Nature vs. nuture and all but I don't know how you could be anything but my brother with a question like that." Tim grins and they get to scheming.
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bi-writes · 4 months
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i have brain rot about simon riley and need to write this down somewhere -> thinking about childhood-bestfriend!roommate!ghost x fem!reader
more bestfriend!roommate!simon (part 1/?)
slight nsfw (18+) thoughts ahead...
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it's your first day of work at your new job. you took up something at the diner nearby, a 24/7 little place that served greasy eggs and day-old coffee in cracked, porcelain mugs. the floors were sticky, half of the menu was crossed out in scratchy black ink, you had to wear this god-awful uniform, but the pay was decent and the cooks were kind.
the diner had a theme, and that theme meant you were buttoning up a terrible uniform. a red and white striped dress with a frilly white apron wrapped around your waist. it cinched at the waist, the skirt was too short, and the neckline showed off too much cleavage, but you needed the money, so damn the uniform.
your hair was slicked back, showing off your light makeup and red lipstick. you fit the hat over your head and slipped the white sneakers on before grabbing your bag and coming out of your room. "and where are y'going lookin' like that, luv?" you froze, closing your eyes and sighing as you gripped your purse tighter.
"im going to work. im gonna be late." "that right? let me look at ya."
you turned around, opening your eyes. simon was standing there, leaning against the kitchen doorway holding a fresh cuppa. you swallowed hard, trying to be subtle as you looked him up and down. black cargo pants, compression shirt rolled up to his elbows, hood over his dirty blonde locks, a surgical mask covering his pretty face.
he put the mug down and straightened his posture at the sight of you. his dark eyes honed in on your figure in the dress, but he tried to hide the way his pupils dilated at the sight of the low neckline. if he moved just right, he could see the white lace of your lingerie peeking out from just under the lapels.
"bloody christ..." he hissed, clicking his tongue.
"shut up, simon, okay? im gonna be late. i know i look ridiculous, i--"
you gasped a little when you felt warmth against your neck. his palm caressed your jaw, fingers tightening around one side of your face. his hand nearly took it all, your cheek smushed against him as he examined you. his eyes grazed over your long lashes to your soft blush to the red of your pouty lips.
he thought it might look nice on him everywhere else. kiss marks on his neck, his chest, his scars, the inside of his mouth--
"dont look ridiculous," he corrected you. "look like a fuckin' doll."
you sucked in your breath as he smoothed a thumb over your bottom lip, his finger coming back a little pink with your lipstick. so pink, so cute, so adorable, just like your glazed, doe eyes and the sight of your tongue sliding along your teeth. you were holding back a whine, that much was obvious.
"simon..."
his other hand moved up, tracing along the edge of the lapel and just barely skimming over the lace of your bra. you held back a shiver, and you felt a warmth bubbling inside of you when you noticed him lean a little closer, his eyes peeking cheekily down the valley of your breasts.
"you let me know when your shift is over," he murmured, letting you go slowly. he knocked his knuckles under your chin, making you look right into his eyes. "im gonna need to walk you home, luv."
"you don't need to do that--"
"wont be taking no for an answer," he narrowed his eyes. "bloody beasts will eat up a pretty thing in this fuckin' dress."
your lips part slightly, your eyes half-lidded as you wonder what it might be like to push the mask up and lick into his mouth, taste the ash on his tongue and the warmth of his breath.
"beasts like you, simon?"
"aye."
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diejager · 1 year
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:)
His hands, big, warm and strong, gripped your hip. His veiny forearms shone from sweat and blood, leading you up and down his shaft. His head rolled back, large mask tilted back as to not his you with the rounded edge of the pyramid’s tip. He growled and grunted, adoring the tightness of your heat, wrapped around him and fitting him like a glove. His shirt was opened, hanging from his shoulders, and his pants fallen to his feet, his whole body - a glory of burning muscle and scarred beauty - naked and on display as he trusted upwards.
Your cunt was sleek, leaking down your ass and soaking his cock and balls in your juice. Every pump had his balls slap your ass, the sound downright wet and dirty, echoing in the shed you were hiding in. It smelled of sex and sweat, your voice whiny and pleading, but your warm heat took him so well. His large cock sending shocks of pleasure up your spine each time he thrusted, he couldn’t believe your smaller - much smaller - body submitted to him, let him take you as he wanted, like a beast, like a monster. All he had in mind was to fuck, breed and care.
Your nails raked his pectorals, drawing lines of red down his chest, scars you would keep giving him, a proof of your coupling. He loved them, he wanted more of them, he would cherish anything you gave him. You left him bloody and he left you bruised but satisfied, sated and filled until the next time you’d see him - tonight, he hoped.
He bounced you up and down, rolling your hip back and forth, his bulbous head hitting your sweet spot, pounding against your cervix and shoving his way into you. He was rough - you told him to let loose, promising that you wouldn’t break - and you cried for more. You gripped him tightly, feeling the veins that ran across his cock and the upward curve of it.
You were amazing. You were perfect. He loved you and kissed the ground you walked on. If he could talk, he’d tell you how good you felt, how perfect your voice sounded, how he loved the pain you gave him, and how he wanted to knock you up if he could. Just the thought had Pyramid Head hard, dick twitching with the promise of a second load from him.
He couldn’t get enough of you.
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You don’t get to tell me about sad
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Next chapter
a/n: blame TTPD for this… idk why I keep doing this to myself.
summary: Azriel gets an assignment he can’t seem to decline. Now he has a princess full of attitude under his protection. The only question is whose cold heart will break first.
warnings: past trauma, mean people, age gap but everyone is of age so calm down.
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Azriel wasn’t sure who or what he was blaming for the situation that was unfolding. He could blame Rhys, who had put him on this duty. Could blame himself. He had been sloppy during his last assignment and nearly died in the middle of it. Meaning that he had to knock it down a tad. Just until he was fully recovered. And then he could raise his middle fingers at fate. Because she was laughing at him now. He should have just stayed put for a couple more months. Keep it to himself that he was itching to do something. Not sit there practically begging for an assignment. Well, now he dug his own grave, and he was forced to lay in it. 
Letting out a deep sigh, Azriel pushes back from the outside wall. Fluttering his wings a couple of times. A short-term thing, Rhys had said when he slipped the document onto the table. It had taken one glance for Azriel to feel the bitter taste in his mouth. But he hated saying no. Even if babysitting wasn’t on his list of duties.
"Ah, sir, it’s so lovely to see you. It is an honor to have the shadowsinger in our presence," an unfamiliar voice pulled him out of his thoughts, making Azriel’s head spin to the side. He had truly been just standing outside the villa for way too long. “Azriel will do just fine," he breathes out, turning to who he assumed was one of the servants. The sweet older man smiles, “I assume you are here to see the high lord." There’s no bitterness in his voice, and there's a true sense of pride there. “Unfortunately...", Azriel grunts, making the male practically gasp under his breath before he quickly pulls himself together. A fake version of the smile he had given Azriel, now neatly plastered on his face, “This way, please.”
Azriel doesn’t let his eyes wander as he walks through the halls. They were never familiar to him, and he doesn’t plan on changing that ever. So he strides along with the servant, wishing he could walk just a little faster. But by the sudden sharp turn, Azriel is quick to realize that no one is taking him to the belly of the beast. A side sunroom. That almost makes Azriel smile. He liked that he wasn’t trusted enough to be greeted in the main office. 
"Azriel," a voice that never failed to make Azriel frown, greets him as soon as the wooden door opens. "Eris," Azriel says, fixing his eyes on the male in front of him. A male who looked surprisingly awful. Eris loved looking good and not letting others see the real thing hiding behind the fox mask. "Sit," the new high lord gestured to the plush armchair, but Azriel shakes his head, “I rather not.” Eris lets out a sigh. “I’m sure you’ve seen the request," he says, rubbing a hand over his chin. “Bald of you to request anything truthfully," Azriel crosses his arms over his chest. A slight smile tugs at the fireling lips, “Maybe I like stooping low from time to time.” 
But Azriel refused to let on, “You hid her. You went behind the law." That was the first thing he had said to Rhys as well. But, of course, there were exceptions for the royal families even there. “I didn’t hide her," and here it was in that much firmer tone, one that always jumped out when one accused Eris of anything, “Beron did. Used her to control me. Too many souls know that she is a weak link”, “Surprised you didn’t just leave her by the border the way you did with Mor" Azriel cut in, letting that bubbling frustration ooze out. Even if he had promised himself he wouldn’t stoop so low, “She was also a weak link, wasn’t she?”, he jabbed, making Eris clench his fists. From the fire burning in his eyes, Azriel knew that the bite back would be as lethal as it probably would have been if not for the noise outside the room. The sound of feet and a figure practically falling through the door. 
"Eris," the voice was breathless, notes of laughter still on it. Tapping of the paws followed suit. As two hounds brushed past the folds of your skirt, rushing towards their true owner, "Eris, look..." your voice hitched as your eyes landed on Azriel. His face remained as cold as it was before, but he had to admit it. Azriel was waiting to see a scrawny girl. Not a young and mature female. Sharp autumn features. And those breathtaking green eyes...
“Oh, I...”, you quickly lowered your head, “I will come by later," but before you didn’t even turn, before Eris grunted, “No, come in, YN." You blinked a couple of times, clearly confused as to why you might be needed here. “What’s going on?", the question was practically a whisper as you wiped the dirt-covered hands on the skirt that looked nothing like the kind a princess should wear. 
“There will be changes happening," Eris said, placing his hands on the table, “You’ve been misbehaving." A light chuckle slipped past your lips. “What?" you breathed, shaking your head. “I do not have the patience nor time to run after you," the high lord said, waving his hand in the air. And that was all it took to make your shoulders droop. Your big eyes staring back at your brother, but Azriel sensed the shift in your energy. He saw the twitch in Eris’s hands, but he didn’t back down. “The spymaster will be taking you with him. You’re to behave accordingly,", “I will not go anywhere with that… tree of a man," you hissed, pointing to Azriel, who almost laughed at the insult. If one could even call it that. “What is this nonsense you’re weaving?”, you stepped forward, demanding an answer. 
“Mind your tone, young lady," Eris growled, pointing a warning finger at you. The room grew quiet. You could hear the flickering of the candles. A heartbeat. One, two, three. “I will stay in my room; I won’t go anywhere, I promise," you begged. Desperation. A nice weapon. But Azriel doubted that it would work on Eris. “You said that the last time and then proceeded to sneak out with Makoa."  Eris reached for the glass bottle, pulling a glass out. He had already settled on his decision, and he was showing you just that. “That was one time," you whispered, desperately trying to catch your brother’s eye. 
“Don’t lie to me," Eris chuckled. “I’m not," and you weren’t. Azriel felt it. He knew that Eris felt it too. “Pack what you need. You’re to leave as soon as possible. Further instructions will be given to you through the spymaster," and that was it. Dismissed. For a moment, Azriel thought that he would have to watch you cry. Beg maybe. “That’s all?”, you hissed through gritted teeth. “You want me to kiss it better?”, Eris asked. A breath hitched in your throat. Knuckles turning white from how hard you clenched your fists. You just spun on your heel. Candles dancing in your movement. A harsh slam of the door. 
Eris let out a shaky breath, but Azriel couldn’t help the laughter that bubbled from his lips. “You are a different breed," the spymaster said, shaking his head. “It will be easier this way," Eris muttered, not taking his eyes from the door. “I beg to differ," Azriel pointed out, turning to leave as well. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, shadowsinger," the fireling bit back. Azriel turned to face him once more. “But you asked for my help," and he knew he had a winning card in his hands. “I’m not doing this because you asked. I'm doing this because she is innocent in all of this."  That was the last thing he said before he stepped out too. 
He had barely made it to the outside terrace when he saw you practically stomping toward the woods. “Mother, give me patience," he muttered under his breath before leaping into the sky. “Where are you going?", he called out. But you didn’t stop. Your steps didn’t falter as you pushed past another branch. “To your fucking court," you hissed, taking your anger out on the poor bushes as you stepped over them.
“Are you sure it’s that way?”, Azriel called out, landing just a couple of feet behind you. You halted, turning left. “Save us both the trouble and let me winnow us there," he said, reaching for your hand, but you turned so fast, pulling a shining dagger from your belt and aiming it at Azriel’s throat. “If you touch me, I will skin you," you grunted angrily. Azriel lifted his hand, pushing his fingers beneath the blade. “You would have to aim a bit higher, princess; you wouldn’t hit the vital artery." He watched the way your jaw practically grinned your teeth to the nerve. 
“Don’t worry, I can always aim for your balls," you snarled back, turning away. Azriel rubbed a hand over his face, letting you walk a few feet ahead. “So, the plan is to walk through Autumn, Winter, Dawn, and Day, and let’s not forget the under-the-mountain part," he pointed out. You stopped once more. Even with your back turned to him, Azriel could tell the way your chest was rising and falling rapidly. 
Turn around; he practically begged in his head; don’t make me regret this even more. But just as he had concluded before, this was Mother’s way of making him pay for everything bad that he had done. Because you stepped forward, inching deeper into the forest. Azriel shook his head. For a moment, he considered letting you walk away, but he took to the skies instead.
You weren’t even sure if you were mad. Were you sad? Annoyed? Confused? It was all fine. Just last week, you were both swimming in the lake. You and your brother. Laughing. He had even pulled out his carving knife. It was fine. Lucien was going to come back, too. Angry tears rolled off your cheeks as you push back another branch, ducking under it. At least that winged bruit had chosen to leave you by. But they all do. A bitter laugh slipped past your lips at the thought of it. A burden from birth—that’s what your father told you day in and day out. Maybe if he had finished what he had started that night...
That thought snaps the same way as the branch beneath you. Your feet twist, making you yell slightly as the pain shoots up your leg. But that’s the least of your concerns, as your weight makes you topple over, hand-breaking the fall as the edge of the dome looms closer. Maybe fate has decided to give you a helping hand. But before you can blink, a strong hand wraps around your middle, pulling you up. 
“So you actually can’t be left to your own devices," a deep voice mutters, and you are cursing Mother once more because she could have sent anyone else, but no, that winged male had to be the one. “No one asked for your interference," you grunt, trying to push out of his grip. “Your manners are shit for a princess," he says, and you can’t wait to put him in his place, but the moment you manage to wiggle out of his grip, putting all of your weight on your feet, shooting pain rips through you. You hiss, stumbling over. The spymaster grips your elbow, steadying you. 
“What hurts?”, his voice is solid, but there’s no anger in it. "Nothing," you say through gritted teeth, thankful for the sunset that had already draped the forest in shadows, letting you hide your splotchy face. “Nothing?”, he asks again, “So, if I were to let go?”, “I said nothing.”You pull your hand away, turning back. You can hide a limp. You’ve hidden worse. Right? But you don’t get to take a single step back. Your ankle betrays you as a pained cry slips past your gritted teeth. 
And in a heartbeat, he is there. His big palm once again splayed against your stomach as he steadied you against his chest. Your heartbeat jumps up, but you don’t even get to gasp when he turns you around, lowering you to the nearest fallen trunk. You watch him with a frown. But don’t dare to fight anymore. What’s the point anyway? 
He kneels, his hands moving towards the hem of your skirt. You expect him to just lift it, but his hands halt as he tilts his head up. You can see that he stutters slightly at the sight of your puffy eyes. “Can I?”, he asks. You grit your teeth, “Don’t you own me now? You can do what you want." He frowns. True confession there. “I don’t own you. I am here to protect you. A bodyguard if you will," he says, and even if you want to call him out for lying, something tells you that he is not. “I don’t need protection," you say, crossing your arms over your chest. “Considering that you just nearly went flying over the edge," the spymaster gestures over his shoulder. You huff, lifting your left leg. Wincing from the movement alone. 
He reaches for it. His hands… Your heart skips a beat at the scars all over them. You can’t see much, considering that he’s wearing long-sleeved leather, but his whole hand... “You sprained it; it’s already puffing up." His voice makes you jump slightly as you nod along. He glances at you. “I’m afraid your journey through the five courts will have to be cut short, princess." He tries not to show it, but the bastard is practically oozing satisfaction. “Don’t call me that," you say, pulling your leg out of his grasp, cursing under your breath. “Princess?”, he asks almost smugly. “I still have two hands, you fuck," you grunt, trying to stand up, but the spymaster works quicker. His arms snake over your legs and back, and you’re up in his arms in the blink of an eye. You cross your own arms over your chest, refusing to hold onto him. “A tree, a fuck. All very original insults," he says drily, “Try Azriel next time, though. We’re trying to be professional about it after all.”
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azsazz · 29 days
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Hide (Part 2)
Eris x Rhysands!Sister Reader
Summary: Anon Req: Literally in love with every fic you write. I know your requests are closed but in the future, could you write something where Eris and the reader see each other and there’s a lot of tension and they’re secretly mates but no one knows? I’m curious to see how you’d end it!
Warnings: Angst
Word Count: 1,428
[Part One]
Notes: Obsessing over this one.
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You swallow harshly at your brother’s question, eyes darting over to catalogue your mate. You try not to startle in your seat when a wall of harsh autumn winds slams between your bond. He’s only protecting you; you must remind yourself. There’s a fine tremble to your hands, so you clench them together in your lap. 
Azriel notes the move, your restlessness as Rhysand stares down your mate like these are his last moments on this plane of existence. You have no idea what Rhysand’s going to do to Eris, but with the thick darkness rolling from his shoulders and slowly filling the room, whatever it might be will not be good.
You cannot let that happen. 
“Rhysand—"
Your brother holds up a hand, his glare swinging towards you. The thin line of betrayal ringing his eyes makes your stomach roil. You hadn’t meant to break his trust and you never intended on keeping secrets from him, but with the courts on the edge of war…
“Do. Not. Speak.” Rhysand’s demand is a death knell of its own. When you were young, you remember how he’d always been the one to listen to any of your problems, even when they felt silly. He would always offer you a solution if you were looking for one, or a piece of cake if you only wanted to wallow in your feelings. 
The smell of burning wood answers his harsh words. 
Cassian shifts in his seat, eyeing Eris. He leans further back in his chair and places his hand on the table, the wicked curve of the short blade clutched firmly in his hand pointing directly at your mate.
Your bond flares, eyes going hard at the sight of the threat to your mate. You’re ready to jump out of your seat, scramble across the table to tackle the male, no matter how much you consider him family. You know all of Cassian’s weak spots, and your gaze is calculating as you decide which maneuver will draw him away from your mate.
The single look Eris sends you keeps you from reacting. 
Instead, you settle back in your seat, showing Eris your unfaltering trust for him. You will allow your mate to say his piece to your brother. You might be crossing your arms over your chest with a hard look all your own, but you will heed Eris’ silent ask of you.
Eris is a mask of nonchalance, and you wish he hadn’t blocked you from his feelings, but it’s better this way. He cannot have your reactions to your brother muddling his own feelings. It’s safer for the both of you to keep to yourself right now, no matter how much you hate the idea of being apart from him like this.
“I will ask you once more,” Rhysand’s voice is filled with smoke. “How long have you been putting your filthy fucking hands on my sister.”
Something flares in Eris’ russet eyes that makes you want to bite, to snarl at your brother for his cruelness. You gnaw the insides of your cheeks to keep from snapping. 
“Would hearing that answer please you, High Lord?” Eris snarks back. He sits easily in his seat as if this isn’t an interrogation at all, as if they’re all bantering over the weather and Rhysand isn’t looking at him like he’s about to unleash the beast within him that he keeps on a short chain. The only give to Eris’ temper are the burnt handprints on the armrests of the chair he’s lounging in. “To know that the fires of autumn light the stars of night?” 
You want to hiss at him for his words. You should’ve known better that Eris would do nothing but taunt your brother. He is nowhere near as powerful as Rhys, especially since he is still under the rule of his father, but his specialty is that mouth of his. 
You try not to think about how he uses that mouth when he’s with you, the yearning for him flooding your body so deeply you clench your thighs together. Another motion that Azriel tracks, cocking his head a little as he watches you with that unnervingly stoic face of his. You shoot him a pleading look but are unable to make out how he reads into your pleas not to hurt your mate.
Rhysand bares his teeth in warning. The flare of his nostrils and the stars winking out of his eyes tells you that he’s moments away from unleashing his wrath upon Eris.
“Two years,” you blurt and all gazes swing your way. You don’t look at anyone else except for Eris, your eyes soft and pleading. His eyes flicker back and forth between yours and his shoulders slump a little, cracking the steel trap blocking your bond to send down a cool rush of apology that you accept with a soft nod. “We’ve been mated for two years.” 
There’s a sharp exhale coming from your brother but you can’t look away from your mate. Two years since you offered him that dessert from your favorite bakery the one time you’d been able to sneak away from your brother and his friends to meet Eris at the portal where Night crossed into Autumn. 
Two years of fiery, passionate nights, hidden away in your own solace. Two years of a fresh breath of autumn, of copper hair and russet eyes and the warmest hands you’ve ever had the pleasure of touching. Two years of unyielding loyalty. Two years of too much time spent apart—
No more. You won’t have it. Rhysand can act as protective older brother as much as he wants but it isn’t going to stop you from being with Eris any longer.
Darkness of your own ekes out of you as you plant your hands on the smooth surface of the table and rise. You stare Rhysand down as the tendrils of black wind around his, Azriel, and Cassian’s wrists, pinning them to their spots. You are in no way matching Rhysand’s power, but he seems at a loss for words as you stand up for yourself, watching with those all too calculating feline eyes of his, allowing you your time.
Stalking around the table, you don’t break the High Lord’s gaze. You hold your chin high even if there’s a pinch of terror in your gut for this continued betrayal to your brother, to your court. But he has no idea what you’ve given up for this bond, how you’ve suffered being kept from your mate. 
One day, you hope Rhysand will understand. Will understand why you halt a step behind where your mate is still trapped to his chair. Why you place a hand on his shoulder, the feeling of him after so long filling your lungs to maximum capacity. You haven’t ben able to breathe fully since you’ve been away from each other. 
He’ll understand why it is that your actions look like you’re swearing fealty to another court, when you’ve already been a patron of autumn ever since you and Eris completed your mating bond. 
“What are you—“ Your brother breathes when he realizes the severity of what you’re doing.
“I will not be kept from my mate any longer.” Your words are loud and sure. You think you’ve done a good job at standing up to Rhysand, until his eyes flicker and the house shakes on its studs.
All of the air is sucked from the room at your words. The strip of skin you’re touching on Eris’ neck warms, but it does little to settle you. You’re not out of the clear yet.
Slowly, all too slowly, Rhysand leans back in his seat. The way he’s looking at you makes you shift in your spot, the disbelief and  in his eyes a bright streak before he snuffs it out, returning to the easy role of High Lord he’s practices meticulously for centuries. 
It hurts to see.
With a careless flick of his hand he breaks through your shadows with ease. All of the darkness in the room dissipates, ever faithful to their master. You only hold an ounce of power compared to him. 
The corner of his mouth curves, and if it’s a smirk or a snarl you don’t know, but neither is as harrowing as the words that slip past his lips. “I wonder which will get you killed faster—your loyalty or your love.” Rhysand stands, turning his back on you as he stalks towards the door. “Get out of my court.”
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Tagging those who commented if you don't want to be tagged on this just lmk <3 Some of you couldn't be tagged btw
Hide Taglist: @littlestw01f @aelin-thefirebreathingbitchqueen @naturakaashi @lexluvswriting @chybay22 @roseliey @acotar-thirst @teenagellamaangel @minaethrym @tothestarsandwhateverend @coolepowersthings @lena-davina @xyzmeh @meritxellao @shadowdaddysposts @callsigns-haze @mrs-azriel @eminvelaris @daily-does-of-sass @kennedy-brooke
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simonrillleyyysss · 2 months
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jordi jordi!!! how do you feel about simon with reader who is price's daughter, obviously she is of age and most definitely not a minor!! lots of love always, aura raye! ᥫ᭡
ooohhh!! love this!!
fem rdr!
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you n’ simon have to keep your relationship secret, obviously. big bad captain john price wouldn’t appreciate one of his best—if not, his best soldier messing around with his darling girl, tainting his gorgeous little angel :(( he would be distraught—ruined even!
but; that doesn’t stop simon from spilling all of his pent up affection behind closed doors—large palms encasing your waist as he kissed your puffy cheeks, ignoring your protested giggles and little nudges, he’s just teasing!
you fell first, he fell harder. you both met when you came to see your papa at work, plastic baggie filled with little treats weighing your arm down, smiling brightly up at the masked beast whom labelled himself as one of your daddies mates.
‘yr’ lookin’ fr’ who?’
‘john—beard, tall—‘
‘price?’
‘mhm!’
he wasn’t shocked to find out you were prices daughter when all the lads seen you at their pubcrawl after they insisted price brought their youngen along, but he was so shocked to find out price was the creator to such a gorgeous girl, so angelic and soft-thought; too nice! too oblivious to soaps attempts to get your hand in his boxers :((
dropped you home after price decided to stay with the rest of the crew at the pub, gave him your number as a friendly gesture and headed off, next few weeks you both grew closer, and ended up fucking him atop your father, and his commanders couch, shamelessly, and heading on a few cute dates! cafes, parks, movies in your bedroom, iceskating in the winter :((
he’s careless, if you get caught? you’re both adults, but he knows how angry his boss would be—and how heartbroken price would be, so he’s willing to hide it for you, grumpy that he has to kiss you in private, touch your pretty tits only when you’re laid on his counter, that ur only allowed to suck his thick cock when you’re locked in his bathroom, but he doesn’t complain!
who would? he has you. his cock, and your cunt.
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petrapalerno · 2 months
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Submitting to the Alien Barbarian #4
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Alien x fem reader, a dom/sub erotic short.
TW/CW: rough consensual sex, primal play, knotting, breeding, aliens, dominance/submission, blood play, spanking, breath play, and violence.
MASTER POST
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PREVIOUS
You reach for him, but find nothing but a fistful of purple fur. Maybe he’s finally gone back to the orgy and found something else to rut. 
You blink, trying to clear your crusted eyes of sleep. Could you even find your way back to the spawning pits on your own? You weren’t really paying attention to what direction he walked when you were slung over his shoulder. 
He couldn’t have walked that far, could he?  
With a deep breath, you push your body up to sit; every muscle feels overworked and stiff as you move. Bringing your hands down to your pussy, you wince. 
Being overworked is an understatement. You’re ninety-nine percent sure that you’ve torn something. 
Sure, you like it rough, but everyone’s got a limit. You could stay here one more night and soldier back to the pits for more fun before you’re taken to the Volkroth nesting grounds. 
The actual giving birth part of the breeding program isn’t really the thing that excites you, but it’s kind of package deal. Luckily, you’ve been assured that the gestation time is short and birth is much easier than for normal humans. The Volkroth deliver very undeveloped young and are brought to term outside the body at the nesting grounds. 
When it was being described to you, they made it seem like they reproduced similarly to pandas or kangaroos— but no pouch was required. The tiny baby bean goes into some kind of pod, and you can go about getting fucked roughly for the rest of the spawning season. They raise the young communally too, so there’s no expectation of parenting for you either. 
Looking at the sheer size of the Volkroth, the whole idea of a tiny bean of a baby seems ludicrous. But then again, you’re no expert on alien reproduction. 
You’re just here to be ripped apart, and you’ve still got three months left until the spawning season ends. One rest day won’t put that big a damper on your orgy fun, will it? 
The fire you slept next to is low, and you nudge a puck of the fuel you saw Drohako stoke it with last night into the flames. They instantaneously spark and the fire greedily engulfs the puck of dried vegetation and mud. 
You’re just about to lie back down when you hear grunting and the hide that covers the cave’s entrance flies open. 
The sun blasts into the cave, and your eyes struggle to adjust to the alien sun’s intensity. Slowly, two forms begin to block out the light. 
Drohako stands, one arm up, holding the lead to some huge alien animal. As he guides it through the opening, it limps on one of its four legs. 
“Stupid Grasyi, I hope the run was worth it.” He barks at the beast that looks like a cross between a Bengal tiger and a moose. As he ties the animal up, you see its legs are far too tall to belong to a big cat, but its blocky head is feline. A set of large and branching black antlers curl around his head. Its striped yellow fur is thick and fluffy, but you can tell it masks how vicious the beast is. The animal’s almond eyes flick over to you as it licks its lips lazily, revealing a viciously sharp set of teeth, it's incisors lengthening out like a snakes fangs. 
“Drohako?” 
“Who else would it be?” He turns to me, annoyed and scowling. 
“I don’t know. I figured you headed back to the spawning pits. Don’t get pissy with me.” I stand slowly and with a great deal of shaking effort. 
“And now you’re hurt, too? You, little human, might have eyes bigger than your cunt.” He gestures down to his crotch. His massive cocks are covered with some kind of loincloth. It does little to hide his thunder, so to speak. 
You scoff, but he’s probably not wrong. Taking a step forward, your knees unexpectedly give out. Closing your eyes, you expect to fall face first into the fire. 
You feel the heat on your cheeks, but not the licking sting of the flames. Bringing your hand up to your chest, you feel Drohako’s brawny forearm. It grips your chest tightly, holding you just above the fire. 
“You move pretty fast for a big guy,” you chirp, still woozy. 
“You are injured,” he tells you earnestly. 
“No shit, Sherlock,” you mutter under your breath, and he pulls you into his arms. 
“You will tell me next time you’re injured. You won’t be stupid like this again,” He scolds as we walk further into the cave. 
My stomach grumbles and clenches uncomfortably. “Maybe I’m just hungry.” 
Drohako groans, “You are both, and you’ve informed me of neither.” 
“Sorry, I thought you hit it and quit it,” I laugh. “I’m sure I would have figured it out once I made it back to the spawning pits—“
Drohako wraps his hand around your hair and tugs your head back hard. 
“You are not going back to the spawning pits. In fact, you will not leave the home cave,” he seethes. 
“What? Were you serious last night? Isn’t that the point of me being here?” He steps over some kind of ledge, and you realize he’s lowering you both into the hot spring you saw last night.
Drohako tucks his legs under him, sitting over his crossed ankles, and cradles you as he slowly brings your body under the water’s surface. Now that you’re actually in it, you don’t think it’s water. It’s not sticky, but it is thick like syrup. It clings to your body and displaces in ways that water wouldn’t.  As you lay across his lap, he looks at you with a sour scowl and tugs your hair back into the pool, “Hold your breath.” 
You don’t do it fast enough, and some water gets into your nose and lungs. You choke when he lets you up, gasping for air and forcing the warm water out of your chest. 
“What the fuck? You’re mad that I’m injured, so you try to drown me?” You sputter at him. 
“The frustrating fact that you have no self-preservation skills, and also can’t follow instructions, isn’t my fault…now is it? Quit complaining before I gag you again. The planet’s blood is healing.” He acts like he would rather do anything other than caring for you…but does it all the same. 
“Planet’s blood? Healing?” You ask, but realize that he’s right. Your muscles are relaxing, and even your crotch isn’t as sore. 
“How injured is your cunt?” He asks as if you’re talking about the weather. 
“It’s sore,” you say, trying to mitigate how painful it actually is. 
With a sigh and an eye roll, he spins you so that your head rests just below his pecs. You feel pint-sized when he’s manhandling you. 
You don’t resist when he pulls your knees apart wide enough so that your feet fall on the outside of his own legs. You watch him with curiosity as he slides a big purple hand between your legs. He rubs broadly over your mound and lips, working the healing water over your pussy. 
You ease into him as some of the stinging is instantly soothed. 
Your mouth parts as his hand dips lower, and two of his thick fingers run up and down the lips of my pussy before pressing into you entrance. You flinch slightly as he touches your torn skin. 
“I should fuck you even rawer for not telling me you were hurt,” he says through gritted teeth. 
You wonder if maybe he actually did scrambled something in your brain when slammed it into the ground. A cord tightens inside you as your arousal grows. It would fucking hurt, but in a way, you feel you would like. 
You buck your hips a little, maybe giving him the gentle nudge he needs to fucking wreck you again. 
His other hand wraps around your neck, squeezing the sides hard. You bite your lip, unable to help the warmth spreading over your body.
“You are an insolent thing who will only get fucked once she listens. You’re going to have to earn these cocks.” 
You expect him to move his hands a little faster, perhaps slipping at least one of his cocks up into you. 
But he doesn’t. He rubs your torn pussy slowly, and you can almost feel it mending itself, thanks to the weird alien liquid. The new skin that grows is more sensitive than what was there before, and it doesn’t help you lessen your arousal. 
“Do you want this seed filling your belly, growing my spawn?” He breathes into your ear, and all the while, his hands move torturously slowly on your no longer painful pussy. 
“Yes,” you sigh as he squeezes your neck all the harder. 
“Do you want your tight little human cunt to milk these cocks?” He rasps, letting his fingers find your clit. Because the liquid your in, the planet’s blood, is thick and viscous, it lets him glide over the sensitive spot at your pussy’s apex with ease. 
Your legs shake as he runs circles around the bundle of nerves, your muscles clasping, begging to be filled up with his thick cocks. You want to feel the delicious swell of his knotting dicks again. 
“Please Drohako,” you moan, arching up. 
“Do you want to come, little human?” He bites your ear lobe hard. 
“Fuck yes,” you say, so close to the edge of no return. 
“Then you will fucking listen to me from now on,” his tone changes from sensual to angry in the span of a heartbeat. 
You’re surprised when he stops petting your pussy and pushes your knees shut. You're still throbbing with need when he pushes you forward into the pool so he can leave it. 
“Did you really just do that?” You pant as you watch him walk back toward the front of the cave, pushing your own hand between your thighs. If you don’t find your release, you feel like you’ll explode and your fingers work furiously, trying to expedite your own ecstasy. 
“Don’t you fucking dare touch yourself,” his voice booms as he snarls at you. You jump almost as much as the strange creature tied up by the cave’s entrance. “You will come only when I allow it, and right now, you don’t deserve it.” 
Oh. This is a thing, a thing you like. Do you get off on withholding? 
“You will let your body heal, you will eat the food I’m about to bring you, and you will stop talking about returning to the spawning pits. You took my knot, you are my mate.” He balls his fists up. “I will teach you some gods’ damn discipline if it’s the last fucking thing I do,” His purple face is flushed near blue as he points an accusatory finger at you. 
“Your mate?” You ask, bewildered.
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NEXT
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dollfat · 2 years
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made great progress in the vampire au for my ocs, im gonna replay it in my head 30 more times so i dont forget it
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miniwheat77 · 1 year
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Wolf. (König x Reader.)
!CW! NSFW, Smut, size kink, p in v sex, rough sex, blood, wounds, stitiching, guns (let me know if I missed any.)
(Summary): König likes to admire his little sheep from afar until he has to confront his feelings. Like a wolf stalking it's prey, it has to pounce at some point.
PLEASE FORGIVE ME IF I BUTCHERED SOME OF THE GERMAN I TRIED SO HARD ;') PLEASE CORRECT ME IF IT'S WRONG.
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There is this sickly sweet feeling König gets when he's around you.
His mind starts to play into it, and he fantasizes about everything he can do to you. You’re much smaller than him, obviously. He’s a beast of a man, even he knows it.
He thinks about how easy it’d be, to overpower you. Take what he wants. He just knows how small your hands would look wrapped around him, how it’d feel like he’s splitting you apart with his cock. He catches himself, sometimes. He’d be out doing work, daydreaming as he stared at you. His mask helps him sometimes, hiding the way he stared at you. Sometimes when your eyes met his, you’d look down, crimson creeping up your cheeks. He thought maybe you were scared of him. That maybe his glare intimidates you. But that’s not really the case at all.
Because everything he thought about doing to you, you’ve thought about too. Him overpowering you. Doing sinful things to you.
The few times you’ve ever interacted with him, it’s always been short and you usually end up scurrying away quickly. It hurts his feelings a little bit. Knowing that he scared you. You’re on the same side, anyways. He was too shy to talk to you, too shy to make a move on you.
You weren’t scared of him. Sure his size intimidated you just a little bit. The sheer size of him alone probably causes nightmares to some people.
But it only fueled fantasies in your brain.
You’re brand new to the military. Still training as a combat medic. You’ve done nothing but get insulted and grilled for being too soft. You didn’t have a very good start. Most of the time, when nobody was injured for you to look after, you spent it doing research in a back office. The military base you were on was massive. And there are 4 medics including you.
You’d traded shifts and got a couple days off to take a little time to yourself, or so you thought. The other medics were older women, that seemed annoyed by your presence. They only seemed to show you certain things, only when you asked. Most of the information you knew, you got by just doing hours of research. König noticed it. He noticed the way everyone just shrugged you off. And the small look of sadness you usually gave when they did made him wanna rip their heads off for hurting your feelings.
König knew there was a mission coming up. A VERY important mission.
They were reclaiming their own territory from terrorists, it was dangerous.
You sat inside of an office. Typing away at the computer, the door opening brings you away from it. It’s your commander. “There’s 1 medic on duty, 2 are resting. We need you for this mission.” He says sternly. You nod your head, body filling with nerves. You knew the basics, what to load up, your commander directed you with the rest. You sat in the back middle seat of the Humvee. Waiting. The door to your left opens and a man climbs in, sending you a smile. “Hello there sweet cheeks.” He smiles. The door to your right opening.
It’s König. His stomach falls immediately when he sees you. He knows you’re untrained, knows you shouldn’t be out here alone. Who the fuck made you come out here alone?
“First time ah?” The other man beside you breaks the silence. You nod your head.
“Thas’ alright. We’ll help guide ya. Usually you stay in the humvee unless there’s an incident. I’m sure you were taught a different way, but that’s how we like to do it, especially on missions like this.” He explains, and you nod your head. König keeps quiet. It's not how you were trained at all.
It’s about an hour later when the few Humvee’s full of soldiers come to a stop. Everyone climbs out and König knows he should say something to reassure you. But he’s too nervous, he can’t. As everyone leaves, you stay put. Not moving and keeping quiet. Waiting for anything. You watch each of the men disappear into the building. And it’s silent for a while. You notice movement to your right, but as you move to look, a loud boom rattles your brain, sending your hands to cover your ears, rubble and debris fly everywhere, the humvee turning over onto its side immediately. The back of your head crashes into the window behind you, and you have to pull yourself up. You feel water rushing down your face, worried that it might be flammable fluid from the humvee. An arm reaches over through the door, grasping onto you. You hope it’s someone to help you, but your hope diminishes when you see their unfamiliar face, along with a gun pointed at you. Your ears are still violently ringing, and you can’t hear anything he’s yelling at you, but he’s getting angrier and angrier by the minute. You're so disoriented you can't do anything but sit there.
Just when you’re sure he’s going to pull the trigger, you see a gloved hand come into your field of view, pressing a gun to his temple and pulling the trigger. His body goes limp, falling to the ground immediately, and König’s face comes into your view. You can’t tell if he’s said anything, ears still ringing from the sheer amount of noise produced by the bomb. He picks you up as if you’re weightless, moving quickly with you in his arms to get to an abandoned building, before more of them show up.
König is furious. Absolutely mad that they’d send you out here alone like this. You’re brand new, never been on a mission, and this is the mission they choose? This is an important mission, a very dangerous one at that.
He thinks about what he'll do when he gets back to the military base. He feels like he's going to lose his shit on every medic there for allowing this, your commander too. He doesn’t care the kind of trouble he gets into. Once he gets you inside, cloth over the wound on your head, he picks up his radio.
“Why are you giving this to me?” You take the cloth away from your head. “Because you have a gash on your forehead. Don’t move it.”
You listen to him, holding it there.
You thought it was water rushing down your face when in reality, it was your own blood.
“This was an ambush. Our medic is too hurt to walk, stand down.” He breathes into the radio. Voice stern and aggressive. “We’re so close already. We have to keep pushing.” They call back.
“Our ONLY medic is too hurt to offer any kind of aid. If ANYONE else gets hurt, she cannot help you.” His accent is aggressive, you can barely hear it but still hear how aggressive it is.
“That’s just a chance we’re going to have to take.”
König shakes his head, looking through the window and seeing bright bursts of gunfire. This goes on for a few more minutes.
Everything goes silent, and he’s watching. The front doors burst open and they’re carrying a soldier out. He’s bleeding profusely from somewhere, “Hurensohn.” He growls.
“I’m.. I’m okay.” You push yourself off the wall, limping towards the door. You'd been watching it all unfold. He helps you over to the front of the large building he'd already been inside. “Put- him inside.” You point to one of the two remaining humvees. They set him inside and you climb in, grasping the first aid kit. You cut open his shirt, seeing the bullet wound is right in the middle of his abdomen, which is concerning. You raise him up, still disoriented, noticing an exit wound on his back. You apply pressure as hard as you can, trying to get the blood loss to stop. Everyone loaded up and you did your best to address the wound. With an exit wound, there was most likely no bullet fragments still inside. You just needed to stop the bleeding until you could get back to the camp to flush it out.
You held the cloth on him the entire ride back, when you got back, they helped the wounded man, who you didn’t know the name of inside. König followed after you, to make sure you’re okay. “The hell happened?” One of the medic asks, seeing you’re covered in blood. König wants to yell at this woman but he can see the aggression on your face as you push past her, going to aid the other. You’re pulling the cloth off him, examining him more closely to make sure the bullet hadn’t hit any major organs. “Y/N, you need to be treated too, I can take it from here." you roll your eyes.
She grasps your arm, and you rip your arm away from her. “I got it.” You growl. She raises her hands in surrender and König has to hold back a smile. He’s seen this particular woman being mean to you more times than he can count, so to see you fire back at her brought him joy. Once this mans wounds are cleaned, dressed, and the bleeding has stopped, you back off, sitting on a chair. “Need to let her look at you now.” König mumbles. You nod your head. “She’s going to need to put stitches there, Liebes.” He taps his own forehead over the mask. You wondered why he stuck around, waiting for you. Maybe to just make sure you’re okay. You sit down on one of the cots. “König, you mind sitting with her, in case she passes out?” König nods his head, sitting down next to you.
It’s a long process, and it pains him to watch. You flinch and try to hold still but it’s painful. “What happened?” She asks, finishing up the stitches. “Got ambushed. Bomb blew up the Humvee I was in.” You stare straight ahead. “She needs more training. Research on a computer because you and the other medics shrug her off isn’t good enough. Poor girl had no idea what to do, and the rest of us only know the bare minimum when it comes to medical. It’s the blind leading the blind out there.” König’s accent is deep, he’s angry but he’s holding it back. The medic nods her head. The aggression Y/N had shown earlier showed her that. Intentionally or not.
After the medic finishes addressing your wounds, you looked tired. “You okay, Schaf?” He asks.
Blush rises to your cheeks. “I'm sorry. I don’t know what that means König.” You giggle, looking down. “Sheep.”
“You called me Sheep?” You smile. He admires the way your cheeks burn. “Uh.. yeah. Sorry.” His shy self coming out again.
“No don’t be sorry. I think it’s cute.”
You try to repeat it, butchering it miserably. He can’t help but laugh at it. You’re so cute.
And it makes him want to ruin you.
“I need to go to my room to change my clothes.” You frown. He nods his head. “I’ll walk with you. You can’t go anywhere alone, you have a head injury.” You nod your head. He follows you along to your room, his footsteps behind you would scare you if you weren’t on the same side. “You can come in, I’ll change in my bathroom quickly.” He nods his head, ducking underneath the doorframe to get inside. You change your clothes quickly, coming out to sit with him. You’re wearing a baggy t-shirt and leggings, and he loves it. “You saved my life. And.. I don’t know how to thank you enough for that.”
He looks down, he’s smiling but you can’t see it. “I feel like an idiot for having such a slow reaction time.” You blush. “You were stunned, being close to a bomb of that magnitude and surviving with only a gash is beyond me. Don’t beat yourself up Schaf, you did what you could do.” You nod your head. The pet name he'd given you makes your heart flutter, butterflies in your stomach. “I will go check on Sergeant Wilford, you try to get some rest okay?” You nod your head. “Thank you, König. I owe you.” You breathe. “I’ll hold you to that.” He laughs. He loves the drowsy smile you give him. He wants to do nothing but hold you close to him for the night.
He disappears through your door, closing it behind himself. You take a deep breath. You couldn’t help but feel like an idiot.
———
Around 3 in the morning, you’re awake. Your head is throbbing, blood is running down your face. A few of your stitches had gotten torn out through the night and you walked out to the medical area, checking on the solider, picking up everything you needed to stitch up your forehead on your own.
You’re standing in a small mirror that was in the infirmary, hissing in pain as you re-stitched your wound. “sheep, why are you awake?” You jump, dropping the forceps and letting out a groan. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s.. it’s okay.” You try to laugh it off. Heart still pounding in your chest. “Wound tore open in my sleep, I think the stitches were too tight so I’m fixing it.”
“You’re stitching them yourself? That’s pretty hardcore.” He chuckles quietly. “Yeah well. You want something done right, you do it yourself.”
“Sometimes.” He smirks under his mask. “What?”
“Nothing.”
You finish stitching it up and clean up your mess. He once again insists on following you to your room, you invite him in for a few minutes, and this is an opportunity he wants to take.
He’s shy, and he knows he’ll probably fold before he makes a move, but he wants to. So badly.
“What happened to your leggings?”
You’re eyes widen slightly, only just now realizing you had taken them off during the night and forgotten to put anything else on over your undergarments. “oh god. I forgot I took them off. That’s embarrassing.” You stand up going for your dresser. “No need mein Schaf, don’t let me ruin your comfort. I like it anyways.” The words leave his mouth before he can stop them. His eyes widen when he realizes what he’s just said, cheeks burning in embarrassment.
You freeze immediately. “What?”
There’s no going back now. He had to play the part. “I said I like it.” He stands up. He takes a step toward you and he looks down at you. “König..” you breathe, his hand moving to slide up against your cheek. Your eyes shut tightly. His eyes darkening as you reacted this way to him. This tells him you’ve thought about it too. He grasps hold of your hand, sitting back on your bed and pulling you into him. “Get up here.” He breathes. You swallow hard, climbing up on top of him, straddling his waist.
You felt unsettled in your stomach. A 6’10 killing machine beneath you, and he wants you just as bad as you want him.
“Deep in thought ah?” He lays back onto your bed, looking up at you. He runs his hands up your thighs and you breathe out, eyes fluttering closed. He smiles, becoming aware of the sudden power he held over you, how easy it was for you to give in to him. He grasps a tight hold on your hips, pulling you forward, pushing you back until you figured out what he wanted you to do. You drew your hips into him, sliding up and back, grinding your hips into him. He bites his lip under his mask, a small groan leaving his lips. “Such a good girl, sheep. My good girl.” He breathes. His words striking you. You’re in complete shock.
Pants start to slip from your lips, growing more desperate with each pass of your hips, sliding over his growing erection.
He still had cargo pants on, which makes you think it was probably his turn for watch sometime in the night. He sits up, and you look down into his eyes. He grasps his mask, bringing the fabric up and over his lips. Pulling you in to kiss him. The desperation is apparent as you kiss him eagerly. He grips your hips tightly, pulling you into him. He slides his hand under your shirt as you kiss him. Pushing the shirt up and over your hips. His hands playing the with the hem of your panties. “Lay on your back sheep, let me take care of you.” He lifts you off of him, and you obey him immediately, something he notices and loves. “You’re hurt, I’ll take care of you.” He whispers. Pushing your shirt up over your stomach. He slides his fingertips up your front, sliding his hand over your breast, squeezing it gently.
You were amazed by the face that his huge hands could feel so gentle on you.
“Please König.” You whimper. Lifting your hips into his.
You wanted him. Wanted him inside of you.
He reaches down. Unbuckling his belt. He was far too shy to take his pants all of the way off. But he lowers them just enough to free his cock from its restraint, your eyes widening at the sheer size of him. “S’alright. I’ll be gentle with you.” He breathes. Noticing your nervousness. Like a predator, he could hear your heart beating from a mile away.
“At first.”
Your clench your eyes closed, so nervous. He loops his fingers over your panties, dragging them down your legs. Admiring the way your arousal glistens in small amount of lighting. “So pretty.” He breathes, running his fingertips over your opening. A whimper leaves your lips, your legs opening more.
So willing.
“So fucking sweet.” He growls. He lines himself up with your entrance, pushing the tip into your opening. Your eyes widen at how much he stretches you. “You’re alright.” He leans down. “Promise it’ll feel good once you’re used to me.”
When he bottoms out, a gasp leaves your lips. “Oh my god..” you whimper.
He struggles to slide back out of you, you were so tight around him. He wanted to stay there forever. Your eyes prick with tears immediately, feeling so full, so overstimulated already. He starts out slow, but as you get used to him, he picks up the pace. And you’re a mess beneath him, eyes watering, lips parted. He has to cover your mouth to stop the noises from slipping from your lips. He’s holding back, the metal of your bed would hammer against the wall if he’s too rough. But god does he want to be.
“Can you take it, sheep? Can you take me harder?” He asks. You nod your head. “Need you to be quiet for me,” he pulls away, standing on the edge of the bed, pulling you by your thighs to move you where he wants you, sliding back inside of you and picking you up. Arms under your thighs, wrapped around your back. “Don’t care what you have to do. Stay quiet, sheep. Or I’ll punish you.” You nod your head. He starts fast, and he’s fucking into you hard.
He’s bottoming out with each thrust, your eyes rolling back. You wrap your arms around his neck, biting down onto his shoulder and he groans. “Fucking hell. so verdammt hübsch” he growls, he grips you tight, cock sliding perfectly into you. Everything he’s thought about doing to you up to this point, he knows he can. He knows you'll allow him to do everything to you, just by the way you reacted to his touch. The sound of his cargo pants manage to muffle the sounds of skin on skin, thankfully. If he hadn't kept them on, the way he was fucking himself into you would be loud. The only sound throughout the room were his almost silent groans, and the sound of his belt rattling with each thrust he took, it became the sexiest sound you'd heard.
"Fuck me, wolf. Take all of me." You whisper into his ear, all of the hair on his body standing up as you say it. He clenches his eyes closed, hips hammering into yours until you want to scream, but know that you can't. You bite down on your lip until you're sure you draw blood. "Lift my mask, sheep. Kiss me when you cum." He breathes. "Want to cum with you." You mewl. He smiles and the only way you can tell is by the small wrinkles that form around his eyes. "Almost there." He groans. "Going to fill you full." He whispers. "You're mine. All mine, mein Schaf." He growls, latching his teeth onto the skin on your neck, dragging a whimper from your lips. "I-I'm so close." Another whimper has him on edge. Right there. "Cum with me sheep, kiss me."
You lift his mask to the bridge of his nose, kissing him hard, teeth knocking into each other as you kiss him with more force than you've ever kissed anyone before. You cry against his lips and he can feel wetness dripping down his lips. He wonders for a minute, if it's your tears but than he notices the metallic taste in his mouth. It doesn't bother him. His eyes roll back as he reaches his high, feeling you clench tight around him, throbbing against him. He groans out as he reaches his orgasm, filling you full until his cum dripped back out of you. When his thrusts finally come to a halt, he's breathing heavily and he sets you back down onto your bed. Admiring the way your thighs shook violently. "Your forehead." He breathes out, the other side of stiches that you hadn't repaired had broken open. "m'sorry." He breathes. You blush, looking up at him, wiping the blood from your face. "no.. I'm sorry. I got blood all over you." he smiles. "I'm yours and you are mine. A little blood isn't going to change that." He tucks his still hard cock back into his pants, goes into your bathroom, wetting down a cloth and bringing it back out. As he walks out, his belt is still undone and it rattles just slightly, wetness pooling between your legs as you hear it. He sits next to you, wiping at the blood all over your face. "I know how to stitch, sheep. You want my help?" He asks. You nod your head. He grasps a blanket, wrapping you up in it and lifting you up. He once again carries you as if you're weightless, something you loved. Once he reaches the infirmary, he sets you down onto an empty cot, being careful not to wake any others up. He cleans up your wound again, sanitizing and disinfecting everything, even though it stings. He tries to be as quick as he can, stitching up the gash once again. "A few days rest. So they don't break open again." He whispers. You nod your head. "I'll take you back."
When he lays you down on your own bed, he hears something he didn't think he'd ever hear. You look up at him, those doe eyes he loved so much. "Stay." You whisper. "Please stay." He smiles. "I don't have clothes, sheep."
"Than sleep naked, wolf." You smile. He rolls his eyes.
He asks you to turn away as he removes his boots and cargo pants, leaving him in just a t-shirt and boxers, and of course, his mask. He climbs into your bed next to you, pulling you into him. He's huge, and so warm.
"Sleep my sheep."
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yandere-romanticaa · 3 months
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Here is a thought, Yandere Diluc lacing up his darling’s corset, that’s it
I adore the simplicity but sheer gentleness of this concept.
Diluc, who is so stoic to the outside world. Diluc, who allows himself the luxury of relaxing in your presence even if it is not exactly consensual at the start. One is often surprised by the sweet desires which Diluc has and most, if not all, revolve around you.
He is not around the manor most of the day so he likes to take his time with you when he is graced with the chance. Diluc is a gentleman and will leave you be to dress yourself but there are times when the overly complex and frilly dresses he likes to buy you get a bit too troublesome to handle.
His fingers dance nimbly across your back, the rough fabric of his black glove a stark contrast to the soft colour of the vintage dress. He is a little ashamed of himself for finding you so appealing in such a state but like with everything else he does, he hides his true desires beneath a mask of cool stoicism.
The look in his eye gives him away though. If he were less a man and more a beast, he would pounce on you if he had the chance.
But, do not fret. He is not that kind of man.
Diluc is quick and graceful with his work, even taking the liberty to add a few little bows on your back here and there. He took great pleasure in dressing you up. He just wished he could be more vocal about it.
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b00kdiary · 4 months
Text
Dreamer | Rhysand (I)
Rhysand x Reader
Rhysand begrudgingly goes to Hewn City to secure a marriage pact that will indefinitely bond the two Courts together- but the fine ladies of the Court of Nightmares are not what he wants or needs.
Instead, he discovers Lady Y/N, and she has no qualms about telling him how he has failed this City and her. This is more than just coincidence, it’s fate.
Warnings: long chapters, mature content (18 +) swearing, eventual smut.
MASTERLIST - 1 and 2
"High Lord, Rhysand of the Night Court."
I reach the top of the dais as my name is announced, my footsteps echoing against the polished floor and the sound bounces through the room, through the tense silence. No one speaks, they barely breathe, as I slowly turn, my face a sheet of ice as I settle onto my throne.
I let a nonchalant smile tug at my lips, the dark mask of a tyrant slipping into place as I eye the endless room before me. A macabre and dreary setting with its ebony walls and onyx ceiling, the beasts carved into the cavernous stone a mirror to the type of Fae who lived in this City.
I emulate the darkness as I lean back, my long legs spreading apart and my fingers curling into the engraved snake form that curves around the throne, the head peering out over my shoulder, my own personal monster.
I cock my head at the dozens of males before me, Council Members, my violet eyes twinkling in amusement as they all remained bowed, knees pressed to the floor, heads lowered and waiting for my word.
"You may rise," I drawl, my tone the picture of boredom, and as Kier and his peers rise to their feet, I see the apprehension and distaste on their faces for me, for my inner circle. Kier observes me, his brown eyes flickering at the prolonged silence. "Kier?"
"As usual, it is an honour to have you here, High Lord," Kier inclines his head, scurrying forward as he speaks, his own mask of reverence slipping into place as he stops before me. "As the steward of Hewn City, I am delighted by your decision to unite our two Courts through marriage, as are the Council present here today."
I see the way my Court stiffens, Mor, Cassian and Azriel all flanked at the bottom of the dais seem to go unnaturally still, the stones in their eyes wholly- unable to hide their disapproval of this whole arrangement.
"We all have our duties, Kier, the Court must always come first," My lips tilt in a mocking smile, and Kier shrivels under the tendrils of dark power that dance around me, an omnipresent threat so at odds with my amused gaze, "My marriage to a Lady of Hewn City will be a victory for us all."
Marriage.
The word tastes like poison on my tongue, any hopes and dreams I had once harboured turning to ash in my mouth at the cold reality I was faced with. To marry a female, I didn't know or love, to mate with her and sire a child, and secure an alliance with the Court of Nightmares indefinitely.
Heavy is the head that bears the crown indeed.
"It will be an alliance venerated for generations to come, I'm sure," Kier smiles, an ugly, wretched sight and I saw Mor shiver in my peripheral, an imperceptible movement, a conditioned reaction to her father. "High Lord, may I introduce to you the fine ladies selected by the Council."
I brace myself, masking my dread with an entertained smirk, drawing on the worst parts of myself, the worst parts of this place to hide the male that roared in warning to me inside. A click of doors opening at my left, and then several soft footsteps echoing into the chamber.
I stare, unyielding and silent, as several young women stride into the room, their heads bowed and back straight, adorned with fine clothes and finer jewellery as they stop at the foot of the dais before me.
They were fine, lovely even, tall, and thin, typical of High Fae female beauty and yet, despite their soft smiles and delicate frames, I frown.
"You can't be serious, even you wouldn't be this cruel," Mor releases a horrified, tight breath and both Cassian and Azriel step forward in unison, an impenetrable wall, as Kier's eyes turn to Mor and his lip curls. "These 'fine ladies' are girls, children, how old are they?"
The room shifted at her sharp words, Kier tensing at the accusation and the males of the Council muttering amongst themselves, their eyes burning as they glared at my cousin- at her supposed insolence for speaking out of turn.
"Their age is of little significance, girl," Kier sneers, that simpering fool mask he wore melting into revulsion and anger as he took in his outcasted daughter. My fingers curled around the throne under me as he spoke, that pit of darkness inside me churning. "They have all had their first bleed-"
"Cauldron," Cassian swore, his dark hair shifting as he moved his gaze over to those girls, and I saw his throat bob at the sight- so young, broken, pawns moved and used in a game of power.
"You're disgusting," Mor hissed, and I heard the pain clawing at her throat, her face pulled into a devastated frown as she took in those girls- and it was as if she were looking into a mirror, to the girl she had once been. "These girls are not chattel; you cannot sell their innocence for your own gain-"
"These ladies are being honoured, girl, an honour that you will never understand," Kier snarled, his emphasis on honour so clear, an indirect assault on Mor's character, on the choice she made to free herself. "To marry the High Lord is a privilege, one these ladies are eager for-"
Azriel's shadows thrum around him, restless, wild, and I knew his control was wearing thin the longer Kier spoke, the longer those girls stood before us, trembling under the burden on their shoulders.
"Enough." One word, low and sinister, and every mouth in the room closed, every Fae in the room turned utterly still at the command.
I grit my teeth, letting the furious power within me radiate into the room, let it dance through the air, brush against my subjects, let them feel the warning, the threat, that I was. I smile as their faces pale, flinching back from the vile magic, a reminder that I could destroy them without even lifting a hand.
"Kier, I am going to choose to believe that this decision was made out of sheer stupidity rather than insolence," My voice is a calm storm, but my eyes- they rage with a current of violence and death, the kind that made males twice my age blanche- and they do. "I will choose to believe that you did not invite me here to waste my time- you wouldn't dare be so foolish, would you Kier?"
I shifted forward in my seat, my eyes narrowing down at the male, and it took all the restraint in me not to shatter every bone in his body, to not pluck his eyes from his head and tear his tongue from his mouth- and he sees that desire to inflict pain upon him in my gaze.
"Never, High Lord, I would not dream of-" Kier barely contains his stuttering words, a mixture of fear, indignation and humiliation lacing through his widening gaze, but like the worm he was, he bowed his head to me in remorse. "It was a grave misjudgement, one that will not be repeated again."
"Good- I desire to sire a child, Kier, not marry one," I sneer, my disgust prevalent across every hard inch of my face as I turn from Kier, moving my eyes across every last council member, "Just as I am sure you all agree, these girls have many more years left to enjoy their youth, yes?"
I make the threat clear in my words, make them clear in my eyes- touch these girls and die.
None oppose me, their hearts hammering in their chests as they nod their head in agreement, subservient and controlled- and a small kernel of satisfaction fills me, that they felt a fraction of what the girls before me did.
"Kier, join me in the Council Room," I stand from my chaise, and as if it were muscle memory, every single person in the room falls to a knee and drops their heads as I descend the stairs. "Let us discuss the consequences you'll all face should you disappoint me again."
***
"Y/N, a union between the High Lord and a Lady of Hewn City is exactly the chance we've been waiting for," Cassandra pestered, her wide eyes pleading with me, but I ignored her again, choosing to instead clean the Council Room for the next meeting with haste. "It's a chance for change."
"Who are you trying to convince, Cassie- me or yourself?" I mutter, raising a dark brow at her as I tuck in the oak chairs, shoving them into place harder than was needed. "This marriage is a farce, and you're deluding yourself by thinking otherwise."
Cassie groans, the sound reverberating through the empty room, and I try to not laugh at her as she rushes around the endless table, her sea-blue eyes rolling as she stops beside me.
"Why must you be such a pessimist?" Cassie demands, her cold, slim fingers ripping the papers from my hand and slamming them onto the table before me. "With a lady from our Court married to the High Lord, we can finally hope, we will have someone on our side- to help us, to fix this Cauldron-forsaken City-"
"And who would that be?" I scoff out a laugh, a bitter, hollow sound as I turn my hard gaze to her, strands of my loose hair brushing my hot cheeks as I move, "Thanatos's daughter despises the Court of Dreams, Kier's nieces care more about fine jewels and clothes than people, and the other daughters are afraid of their own shadows, they would shit themselves at the sight of the High Lord and his inner circle."
Cassie purses her lips at my harsh words, and I frown, sighing deeply at the look of dejection on her lovely face, hating myself for snuffing out the light that had filled her eyes. But it had to be done- some people were not meant to dream.
"I'm sorry, Cassie, I know you wish it were otherwise, I do too," I force back the lump in my throat as I turn from her, hating the way my lip trembled and my hands felt weak, "But this marriage will benefit nobody but the High Lord, his court, and the males of the Council- that's it. They have never and will never care, there is no one on our side but us."
Silence fills the room at my hoarse dead words, and the reality of them, the reality that we were truly and irrevocably stuck in this life, in this cycle of hell made my eyes burn.
"It saddens me that you feel that way, My Lady," A deep, velvety voice rasped from behind me, and the air went taut at the unfathomable power that penetrated the room.
Cassandra gasped, something spilling from her hand and dropping to the floor with a deafening crunch. My stomach twists into knots as I brace myself, all the blood leeching from my face as I turn- to where the High Lord stood, his inner circle and Kier watching on either side.
"High Lord," Cassie choked on the title, choked on her fear and before the male before us could speak, she stumbled down to a knee, her head bowed and her golden hair falling forward to shield the terror on her face.
I couldn't move, not even as the voice inside me screamed and begged for me to bow, to submit myself to him- for I had heard stories of Rhysand.
Of his abilities as a Daemati, able to shatter a person's mind without lifting a hand, of his ruthlessness as High Lord, reducing people to ash with a smile on his lovely face, of all the horrific things he had done in his five hundred years of existence.
And it seemed he saw it on my face, perhaps even saw it in my mind, the nightmares and tales, the horrors spread about him in the City, about the kind of male he was.
His violet gaze narrowed, the constellations in them beaming as he stared at me, as he cocked his head, his lips pursed into a thin line- as if observing me. I shook under the silent act, the unyielding hold he had over me, as well as the gazes of his court at his side.
"Y/N!" Cassie hissed under her breath, her head turning and her silver-lined eyes meeting mine, tears sullying the usually tranquil blue as she pleaded with me to move, to bow.
"Insolent girl," Kier spat, his gaze hard as he glared at me and the breath caught in my lungs as a dark eclipse of magic shot from him, striking against my stomach, hard enough that I lurched forward in pain and then another hit a second later, slamming into my jaw. "Bow before your High Lord."
I groaned as I fell to a knee, the impact of the bone against the polished floor striking through my whole leg and up my body, but that was nothing compared to the throb that burned through my stomach and the cut at my lip, the taste of metal filling my mouth.
I heard a gasp, a feminine sound of surprise and concern from above me as I leaned forward, my eyes pinched shut and every breath feeling like glass in my lungs as I tried to compose myself- forcing down the pain in my jaw, in my stomach, in my heart.
I heard footsteps and then the room went still, as if a blanket of ice had fallen over us.
"High Lord, she-she was being impudent-" Begging and broken words, riddled with fear and my eyes shot open at the sound of a sickening crunch, an agonised scream following it, and the aura of death filling the space.
"No, you are impudent, Kier," That voice again, but now it sounded different- the kind of mercilessness that could haunt a person's nightmares, that could be found in the darkest hollows of hell. "You do not touch her, or any other female, ever."
Another crunch and I recognise the sound now, it was bones splintering, tendons tearing, blood gushing and Kier cried out again, a horrible, strangled sound.
"Leave," The High Lord breathed the command, and I felt the floor shake under his restraint like he was funnelling his power down into the ground as an anchor. "and do not heal that hand, I want you to remember my words today, Kier."
I keep my head low, staring at the floor, unable to look up as footsteps bound away, fast and stumbling and I cringe at the sight of blood leaking against the floor, a trail following after Kier as he exits the room.
And despite the tendrils of pain still wrecking through me- I internally groaned at the thought of having to clean the blood up.
An amazed huff of air left the High Lord, it sounded almost like a laugh, but I didn't dare raise my head. Not even as he slowly sauntered over, his footsteps deliberate and slow, I didn't even look up when that trail of blood vanished, magicked away, leaving behind not even a stain in memory.
He stopped before me, and my heart thrummed so loud I knew they could all hear it.
"My Lady," Rhysand murmured, his voice soft now, like a caress of wind against my skin. I swallow down the bitter taste in my mouth, my eyes fluttering as I lift my head- to see the hand he had reaching down for me. "Please, rise."
I blink at the outreached hand, heat filling my cheeks at Rhysand's tender gaze, any whisper of violence or darkness gone, replaced by something so much sweeter. I gnaw on my cheek, my hand sweating and shaking as I reach forward, gently placing my palm in his.
The second our hands connect, something charges through me, bright and sharp and strong and for a second Rhysand's eyes widen, just for a second, but then he blinks at it's gone- as if I had imagined it.
"Thank you, High Lord," I breathe and his fingers curl firmly around my palm as I wince, my knees shaking and knocking as I rise to my feet. He whispers something gently under his breath, his head glancing sideways, and I sigh when Cassandra rises too, her slender frame curling back as she stands.
I crane my neck to meet Rhysand's eyes, and upon seeing my face, seeing the cut leaking blood at my lip, his expression hardens. He still hadn't let go of my hand, his large, ringed fingers still gripping around me like a vice, calming the trembling shakes that ran through me.
"I apologise for Kier's actions," Rhysand sighed, his dark lashes fluttering as he slowly slipped his hand from mine, moving to the pocket of his jacket, his fingers pulling free the cloth there. My hand felt cold as it fell back to my side, but as Rhysand lifted the cloth between his fingers, my head hazed.
I didn't breathe, couldn't, as Rhysand gently brushed the soft cloth against the cut at my lip, soaking the material with blood and being so careful that I didn't even feel the pain stinging at the touch. I feel the surprised stare of Cassie at my side, of his family at his back, but nothing deterred Rhysand.
"I should be the one to apologise, High Lord," I stutter, finally feeling like I can breathe as he pulls his hand away, and I blink away the fog, clearing my throat as I step back, as I let the bubble, he created around us pop. "I spoke out of turn, and I should have bowed-"
"You don't need to apologise for your honesty or anything else," He shook his head, the soft waves of his blue-black hair shifting with the movement, and I forced myself to not stare at every inch of his handsome face. "I don't punish Ladies for words spoken in earnest between friends."
I nod, uncertainty and weariness shining in my gaze as I take in his intense half-smile, a smile that seems to brighten when I glance at Cassandra, looking equally as confused as me, and I shrug weakly.
"Though I will admit I am rather taken aback by your words, Lady Y/N," I shiver at the sound of my name on his silver tongue, at the way he cocked his head down at me, a purely predatory move, as he spoke. "I would like to hear more of your thoughts on the matter."
Hear my thoughts?
I go still at his easy words, at the question rather than a command, and Cassie releases a puff of air- like there wasn't enough oxygen in the room to placate her aching lungs.
"What?" I croak and then wince at the insolence behind my words, a habit that I couldn't shake in front of the High Lord. I pinch my eyes shut at the way his lip quirks, and my embarrassment is worsened by the small chuckle that General Cassian huffs out. "I mean- I'm not sure that's-"
"Now, now- don't go all shy on me, My Lady," Rhysand purred, nonchalance highlighted in every inch of his muscled form as he tucked the cloth back into his pocket and grinned at me, like a lion before devouring a lamb. "I think we're past the point of formalities, yes?"
***
"There is no one on our side but us."
The words were so hollow and defeated, the type of ruined that spoke of no hopes, dreams, or future, just nothing. And it was hard to explain what I felt at the words, like a sharp pain as if she had reached into my chest and torn out my heart with her bare hand.
She said that they have never and will never care- 'they' being me, my court, the people around me now and the ones left behind in my City of Starlight.
Sincere words, loaded words, spoken by a female behind closed doors, in confidence to her friend- and yet, I had overheard.
I wasn't sure what to expect when stepping into this room and wasn't sure what kind of female I would be confronted with. I had anticipated a female full of loathing and darkness, a kind of anger that would burn in her eyes, that could be seen through every breath she took, in every inch of her skin as she moved.
And yet, as I stared at the girl before me, I was met with the exact opposite.
The other lady, Cassandra, had become a shaking mess the second her blue eyes laid upon me, her breaths gasping from her as if everyone would be the last. She was terrified because that was all she knew in this city; it was all she knew of me.
But Lady Y/N was different- she was frightened by me, yes, I saw it in her doe-like eyes, saw it in the memories that flashed through her mind of me, the tales of my cruelty and brutality, the blood that stained my hands and the darkness that tainted my heart.
But she didn't look away, as if she couldn't.
Here she was faced with a monster that mothers warned their children about, yet she stared at me as if she saw me- and was as beguiled by me as I was by her.
"Now, now- don't go all shy on me, My Lady," I smile, the tightness in my chest easing as a stain tints her plump cheeks, and her chocolate eyes widen, "I think we're past the point of formalities, yes?"
Her friend swallows, audible and thick, as if struggling to get down air and Azriel shifts on his feet, his brow furrowed as if concerned the girl might collapse. Y/N glances at her, and amusement fills me at the small, confused shrug she gives her.
"You won't uh-" She clears her throat, her hand coming up to brush a stray strand of hair from her face, and I watch every single movement as she tucks the silken strand over a perfectly arched ear, revealing the smooth column of her neck. "You won't turn me to dust, right?"
I snort, a short and amazed sound, and she gnaws on her lip, avoiding the cut there and I have to begrudgingly tear my gaze away when my court steps forward, my brothers half-smiling and Mor looking at Y/N as if she was as charmed by her as I was.
"No, no, Lady Y/N," My mask slips and slips until it's completely gone, and I'm glad that Kier left, glad that none but her saw me like this because it felt freeing, to be in this Cauldron-forsaken place and be able to genuinely smile. "No one will be turned to dust, on my honour as High Lord."
"Please do tell us," Mor steps forward, a small smile on her red-pained lips and Y/N's breath hitches at the eyes on her, at the attention. "Contrary to what you may think, we do care."
Y/N considers, and I can hear her heart hammering in her chest, fast and loud and endless, but despite that she lifts her chin and something raw runs through me at the look in her eyes- the bravery.
"I- I think that Hewn City is a cesspit, full of the worst kind of Fae and every amoral despicable thing a person could do happens here," She breathes, and her soft body trembles with the exhale, as if speaking these words aloud were exactly the catharsis she needed. "And to be honest, I blame you for that."
Surprise- it fills me and every single other person in the room.
"Y/N!" Cassandra gasps, and her eyes seem to widen further, impossibly big, latching onto me and full of pleading, "She doesn't mean that- she must be more delirious than anticipated from the-"
"Cassie, please," Y/N scoffs, a hollow and low sound, and the tension in the air goes thick as they glance at each other. "Someone needs to say it, it might as well be me."
I fold my arms across my chest, my lips pursing as they stare at each other, some internal telepathic conflict waging between them, in their eyes and despite my abilities, despite the fact, that it would be so easy for me to slip into their minds and wade through all their thoughts, I don't.
I glanced back at my Court, who stood just behind me, and their faces were contemplative too- not angry, nor offended, but shocked- here was this girl, no older than twenty, with eyes as soft as a doe's, telling us exactly how we have failed.
"Please, continue," I nod, and I hope my eyes are encouraging, because even if I do not wish to hear her words, she was right, they needed to be said and I needed to hear them.
"For centuries, the Court of Nightmares and the Court of Dreams have been segregated and somehow we've fallen into two categories: good and bad," She swallows, and something aches in my chest at the sorrow on her lovely face, the burden, "But no one is born bad, people aren't inherently evil but growing up in a place like this? What else is there but the horrors we see and endure, what else are we destined to become?"
Another shaky inhale, a more broken exhale, and my magic burn inside me as if every desperate breath from her is like a call and my body is begging in answer.
"Your court has washed their hands of us, all of us because it was easier to believe that we were all damned than to try to help- the small minority have ruined the majority," Silver lines her hardening gaze, and I feel us all, every single one of us, go tense at the single tear that trickled down her cheek.
I hear a strangled sound come from behind me and my burning gaze glances back- to Mor, tears brimming her eyes and her lips trembling, watching the girl before us, and feeling every single atom of hurt as if it were her own.
"Morrigan was lucky enough to escape this City, these people because she had you- but do you truly think that she is the only good person born here, that in all these years, she is the only one worthy of salvation?"
More tears leak down Mor's face and Y/N's, endless, eternal, years of suffering in one single moment and I feel the guilt of my actions barrel down at me, a truth that I have spent years avoiding coming to light, like a thunderbolt to the heart.
I let my magic hold me down, let it root me in my spot- because those tears on her cheeks are tormenting me, ruining me, and it takes everything in me not to reach out and brush them away.
"So, forgive me if I have no hope left, that died in me, in all of us, long ago," Y/N clears her throat, her chest rising and falling in powerful waves and my throat is as dry as sand as she wipes the tears from her cheeks, "I- I think we could have all been dreamers- if only you had given us the chance."
In five hundred years, the mask I wore never slipped, never faltered, never was hard to wear- until right now. Right now, as my gaze locked with her, as I saw all the horrors she endured, because of my neglect, I couldn't even find that mask within me- it was gone.
There's silence, heavy and long and burdensome for what feels like hours as I stare at her, and I don't think I could look away even if I wanted to do and I don't, I don't want to.
Y/N inhales a sharp breath as I stalk towards her and the magic in me dances and whirls and strikes through the air, dark and ominous and wholly powerful. My jaw locks as she grabs out to her friend, Cassandra whimpering as Y/N yanks the girl behind her- a shield, against me.
Brave- so utterly brave. Willing to face off with a male five hundred years her senior and her High Lord, to protect her friend.
A Queen in her own right.
I stop before her, so close that I feel her breasts brush my chest, feel the small trembles that wreck through her body, can smell the lavender and jasmine on her perfect skin. She raises her eyes to me, and I see every ounce of her character, her heart and soul, as she tries to not cower before me.
"How old are you, My Lady?" I mutter, and she shivers under my easy words, her brow furrowing at the non-threat. "And what do you do here, your role?"
"Twenty-one, High Lord." She swallows, her tongue flicking out nervously to wet her lips and my hands clench at the sight, at the moisture on her pink mouth. "My father was Captain of an import chain for the City, I was given the role of Lady-in-waiting as a reward for his work."
I sense the curiosity and shock of my court behind me, the way they imperceptibly inch closer to me, to us, drawn in by my words- by the intention behind them.
"You believe the alliance is a farce, that it wouldn't change anything?" I ask, softer, and my power slips from me, curling around her curved hips and soft thighs, moving through her silken hair and over her sensitive skin- and she shakes her head, unable to speak. "What if I were to find a Lady of Hewn City who shared your sentiments, who desired for change and salvation just as you do- would that make you more inclined to hope?"
Cassandra sucked in a sharp breath, her blue eyes widening- in realisation. And I felt the air tauten, my inner circle going still, knowingly.
But Y/N cocked her head, a youthful move, not seeing what was right in front of her.
"Yes, I think that you marrying a Lady who genuinely cares for this City and its people would be a step in the right direction," She considers, and I can't fight my smile at the tender, sincere, confusion that pinches her lovely face. "Thought I seriously doubt you will find any such female here."
"Hm," A lazy grin stretches across my face, bright and sure, drawing from the feeling blooming in my chest, raw and new and terrifying as I stare down at her, "I already have."
"High Lord? I don't understand-" Her words melt into a gasp as my fingers caress her cheek, moving ever so gently against that sore cut at her lip- and satisfaction fills me when her eyes flutter, a breathy sound slipping from her.
"I have already found the perfect Lady to marry," Her face burns as I run my eyes languidly down her figure, across her entire face and body- and she stills as realisation fills her, "All you have to do is say yes, Y/N darling."
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Text
— mine to have
pairing: wednesday addams x fem!oni!reader
warnings: smut, lesbian sex, cunnilingus, possessiveness (non-toxic), hair-pulling, angry sex, all characters are aged-up
summary: xavier has been getting too close to wednesday lately, and your patience is running thin — a demon's jealousy is a terrifying thing
word count: 1.2k
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"What did he want?"
"Who?"
"Thorpe."
Wednesday looks up at you, big doe eyes wide open — she doesn't remember telling you about Xavier. It's not like she was planning on hiding it from you, rather how perceptive you always are, seeing right through her despite all the walls she has built and the masks she wears.
Should she tell you? Tell you everything about how Xavier keeps following her around, how he glances at her in class, and how he finally found courage in himself to finally tell the gloomy ravenette about his feelings... oh no. That won't end well for him.
Wednesday takes her time to answer, and you can see her eyes slide away from you — you don't like her hesitation. You get up from where you were sat, and advance towards the smaller girl slowly, like a beast on the hunt, gaze never leaving her face, and back her up against her desk.
Your aura is murderous.
"What the fuck did he want with you."
You're fuming — not exactly enraged yet, but you're almost there, and the prolonged silence doesn't help the case. Wednesday avoids your gaze, finds herself looking for the best answer that won't anger you even more... but there's none.
"I'm so fucking sick of Xavier." You growl, hands at the edge of the desk, claws sliding down the wood to leave deep marks.
"Why?" She asks, as if the answer isn't obvious — is she trying to spur you on even more?
"You know why," you snarl, teeth bare, seething, and your palms land on her waist with a possessive squeeze, "Do you want me to fucking elaborate?"
Wednesday's breath hitches when you grab her by her thighs roughly and sit her on the desk, your frame leaving no room for escape — not like she would wish to, anyways. Your hold is tight, claws sinking into her supple flesh, threatening to tear through the fabric of her stockings.
She has never seen you this furious. With anyone else, maybe, anyone trying to cross you, test you, or anyone stupid enough to provoke you. But never with her. And it makes her body flush with excitement.
"(Y/n), I'm not- "
"I'm so fucking sick of him. I'll kill him for you," your fingers move lower, to the fabric of her underwear, and there's no teasing — you don't linger your touch on her plush thighs like you usually do, instead choosing to hook your fingers on the garment and tear the lacy fabric of her panties in a single sharp movement of your talons, the sound wildly lecherous, and she gasps at the blunt display of strength, “I'll come to you drenched in his blood. So everyone else will know. So you know.”
You're mad — a hurricane of teeth and claws and angry snarls, seeing only red, red and Wednesday, sprawled out before you and caught completely off guard, the sight so unusual it makes you want to capture this moment forever. You grab at her thighs, manhandling her closer to the edge of the desk, — her skirt is still in the way, and you flip it in a hurry, — and dip your head to sink your teeth into the milky flesh of her inner thigh, and Wednesday shudders, a sigh leaving her dark lips. You don't linger there for long, licking over the mark you've left and moving closer to her gorgeous pussy, wetness glistening, and you almost salivate at how pretty and delicious she looks — you want all of her.
You open your tusked mouth and stick your tongue out slowly, slithering, the demonic muscle long, pointed and rough, one made to lick flesh off of bones, and Wednesday can't help feeling like your prey, a being for you to feast on as you glide it over your lips, over your teeth — and then lean in.
The first swipe of your tongue through her silky folds has the ravenette gasping breathlessly, and she clenches around nothing, hands reaching down to grasp at yours where you're gripping her thighs, the only leverage that's keeping her from going absolutely insane. You groan into her, vibrations sending more tingles of pleasure down Wednesday’s spine, and push yourself closer for a better taste — her thighs wrap around your head, but you force them apart with a growl, like a hungry animal getting aggressive over its meal. You look up, gaze meeting hers, and she groans at the intense warning in your slitted eyes — don't fucking do it again.
Wednesday could almost sob, her fingers carding through your hair and pulling at the (h/c) tresses, and she isn't sure if she wants to pull you away or closer, as close as possible, but she quickly chooses the latter, chasing the feeling of your mouth around her clit, of your tusks scratching at her velvet walls, making the pleasure almost unbearable.
Your pace never slows down, and it's like you don't even need air — the rage bubbling inside of you mixes with the taste of her heat, spurring you on like your personal aphrodisiac, and every inhale you take, you take right into her tight cunt, breathing her in. She's your air, and you'd gladly trade oxygen for her smell.
Juices trickle down your powerful jaw as your hot wet tongue slides in deep, and Wednesday can't hold back a whine, God, she whines, completely uncontrolled and carnal, and if you weren't feeling wild before, you surely are now, the sound a fuel to your own flaming desire. You're eager to bite — and the rows of your big teeth close around her pretty pussy, wanting to devour her whole, because she's yours, only yours, yours to have like this, to please and to drive to the brink of madness.
Her legs shake in your hold, and you know she's close, but your hunger is barely sated yet. You bury yourself even deeper, slurping at her arousal between puffy lips, lapping at her most sensitive parts — and Wednesday snaps, a hoarse moan tearing from her throat, her warm thighs finally catching your head to keep you in place, and you allow it.
Your lips leave her heat, and you nip at her flesh again, leaving a dark bruising slash of color on the pale canvas of her skin, and you think it's enough for now, for Wednesday looks beautifully spent, a sated mess, her arm draped over her eyes as her chest rises and descends with every heavy breath she takes.
You rest your cheek on her soft thigh — it's too early to go, and you feel at home between her legs, — and slide your tongue over your teeth, licking her syrupy arousal off your canines. A different thought crosses your mind, one you can't fight, because you're a woman addicted, the drug right within your reach, served on a silver platter.
Wednesday feels you wrap your arms around her thighs, putting her legs over your shoulders, and looks down at you through her thick lashes, her eyebrows knit.
"(Y/n)." She breathes, a silent plea, but you don't listen.
"Don't wanna waste any," you murmur lowly, the flames of your fury slowly dying down, making way for a much more tender but no less powerful feeling, "I need to clean you up."
You dive in again, and the beautiful arch of Wednesday's back almost resembles that of your grin.
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clanwarrior-tumbly · 5 months
Note
Could you do a scenario about Nemona, Penny and Arven with a real who has type null please? Maybe something about it transforming in Silvally?
YES NULL/SILVALLY TIME
I have one in Sword who I call "Bestie", and it's carried me through the Crown Tundra DLC. I want it in Violet so badly aaaa
Also this just reminded me of my fic that I wrote prior to Sun/Moon's release. Ya'll can give it a read if you so desire <3
That being said, this scenario will be like a sequel of sorts
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........
Revealing Type: Null--or "Nully" as you've affectionately called it--to your friends was something you were initially nervous about...
But today was finally the day.
Moving away from Alola to attend school here in Paldea was quite the stressful journey, especially for your masked companion who had never know any place besides stark white labs and sandy beaches.
People kept warning you about how dangerous it was, but you never listened...and now your bond with the mysterious normal type has never been stronger.
Ever since you rescued it from an Aether Foundation facility that exploded due to its rampage, it put its trust in you and loved you unconditionally.
Learning the truth behind that supposedly "good" organization and its leader broke your heart. Although nothing devastated you more than realizing Nully had been held captive there as both experiment and prisoner.
You've tried researching its species, checking for notes and hacking into secret files the foundation kept under lock and key--and you discovered that Type: Nulls were basically created as "tamer" versions of Arceus, even having memory discs similar to the plates manufactured. They were meant to kill the Ultra Beasts should they invade Alola.
Instead, they went on a rampage (of course, that's what happens when humans try replicating a god's powers) and were confined to masks and put into cryogenic stasis. The whole project was deemed a failure.
As tragic as it was...you were relieved to have found Nully when you did and get it away from that horrible place.
Even so the mask still made it feel absolutely miserable, but unfortunately you couldn't find any further information on how to remove it without causing your precious Pokémon serious injury. There were no visible clamps to unlock, pulling it off would only cause it great pain, and cutting seemed too risky.
The only benefit was that it made Nully immune to critical hits, but the cons definitely outweighed the pros.
Maybe one of your friends knew more about the Type: Null species, and so you decided to call them all over for a picnic if they had free time.
All you could do was pray that they didn't lose their cool and scare your companion.
That's the last thing either of you needed.
Arven was the first to arrive, with Mabosstiff at his heels as usual, but he stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing the bizarre-looking Pokémon standing by your side. You could tell he was trying not to look too worried, considering the poor thing was hiding behind you now.
Still, it's obvious that he didn't have the slightest clue what he was looking at, so you explained everything to him: where you found Nully, why it looked like a rejected Arceus, and the memory discs you kept in a small folder.
So far, you haven't figured out how to utilize them in-battle. But despite the space they took up in your bag, you refused to throw them away.
"Are you sure there isn't a slot for these somewhere on its mask?" He stared at one of the floppy discs, before glancing back up at Nully, squinting. "It looks like there should be one."
"We've been pals for nearly three years, Arven..I'm pretty sure I would've found the slot by now if there was one." Shaking your head, you took it from him, sighing. "My only option is to get that thing off. The slot's probably on its body somewhere."
"Right...maybe there's a stomach hatch or-"
"¡Mira! You were right, Penny! They do exist!!"
"Nemona, slow down!! They're not going anywhere!!"
Hearing the shouts of two certain ladies from afar, you and Arven looked to see both Nemona and Penny coming over the horizon. The student council president was dragging the poor girl by the arm, with her stumbling to keep up and not lose her glasses.
When they arrived, Penny was dazed and annoyed as she scowled at Nemona, tearing her arm free of her iron grasp. But her attention was quickly set on the peculiar Pokémon who was cowering behind you yet again.
"Wow...I..never thought I'd see one up close before.." Adjusting her glasses, she gazed at Nully with interest.
"You've heard about them before?" You asked.
"Back in Galar, I found some top-secret stuff about Macro Cosmos trying to make their own instances. They literally stole the blueprints from the Aether Foundation."
"...yikes." Nemona remarked, tilting her head as she tried getting a better look at Nully herself. "It seems shy. Maybe a battle will help it-!"
"No battles, at least not right now." You smiled apologetically, patting it on the head as you looked at each other. "I know you're nervous, Nully..but it's okay. They're nothing like the jerks back in Alola who used to pick on us. They're my friends. You can trust them, I promise."
Nodding its head, it relaxed its haunches as it cautiously stepped away from your side, gazing at the trio and seeing their smiles, too.
They weren't looks of pity.
They seemed genuinely thrilled to meet it.
It stood there for some time, taking in everything you've said to it and thinking about how far it's come since you rescued it that fateful day.
Somehow, it knew it was always meant to be your companion--from the very moment you held it as it cried in the Pokémon Center, reassuring it that it's not a monster, but a sweet creature worthy of love and care.
Ever since then, your friendship has grew...and now it feels stronger, willing to put its life on the line for you if need be. Even though most of its powers have been concealed, it didn't feel like some weak and helpless lab experiment.
Oh no.
It was far from that now.
Thanks to your bond, it felt unbelievably strong.
So much so that....the normal-type realized an extraordinary change was imminent.
And you were about to witness it.
"Look! Nully's glowing, [y/n]!" Nemona pointed, her eyes widening as your companion was basked in a familiar light. "Is it evolving???"
"Oh my god...I think so." You gasped, never realizing the possibility of it evolving, but you're now certain that friendship is what triggered it at last.
The most noticeable thing were the cracks that started appearing all over its helmet, pieces of what you assumed was indestructible alien material falling apart. Nully shook its head vigorously, trying to get rid of it as much as possible.
Then it turned its attention to a nearby boulder, letting out a cry before performing a move similar to a Headbutt, ramming into it and letting the rock shatter the helmet completely.
At last, it was free.
When the glow faded, you and your friends gazed in awe as Nully looked back at all of you.
With its mask finally gone, what lied underneath it was a beautiful creature made of both nature and machine, with a beaklike mouth that smiled proudly.
"Nully...?" You murmured, stepping closer.
"Ally." It chirped, walking up to greet you.
Tears began forming in your eyes as your grin widened. "I can't believe it...friendship was all it took to-"
Suddenly, your rotomphone decided to ruin the sweet moment by flying out of your pocket.
It displayed a new entry in your Pokedex, and you grabbed it to read what it had to say, while Arven, Penny, and Nemona checked their own phones.
"I see, you're Silvally now." You gazed back up at Null--Silvally, watching it bow its head respectfully. With a small laugh, you mimicked the gesture, before petting it lovingly as you sighed. "Wow..."
You noticed one of the metal bolts on its face open up like a CD player, indicating that something had to go in there-
"Wait.." Remembering the memory discs, you took one out and held it up. "Do you want me to use this?"
Silvally nodded, although before you could do anything, Arven interjected.
"Hold on, which memory is that?"
"The Dark Memory. It probably just changes its type, but I believe this represents all the pain Silvally had to endure while being trapped in that mask, not knowing what it did wrong or why people shunned it for simply existing." You placed a gentle hand under your companion's jaw. "But now I think it's ready to turn that painful memory into power. So let's see what happens.."
"Silllllv!"
Carefully inserting the disc into the open slot, you watched as it closed up. Then you stepped back, seeing the colors and spikes on its body turn smoky black.
Even its eyes changed, and when they opened they looked even more menacing than ever.
And they stared directly at you.
With a low growl, it crept closer to you, while your friends held back..tense and worried that the pokedex entries were correct: this wasn't something you could so easily control.
There was probably a very good reason for the mask-
Yet any hostility Silvally seemingly expressed disappeared, as it smiled and licked your cheek affectionately, causing you to laugh once more. "Hey, that tickles! C'mere you!"
Hugging its neck, you grinned as you received even more kisses, hearing it purr with happiness. You petted its feathery crest, relieved that it completely trusted you now.
"Wow..it's way cooler than Arceus!" Nemona laughed. "Do you think I can battle it-??"
Silvally just shot her a wary look, and she immediately fell silent, a nervous smile on her face. "Haha, you're right. Not yet. But I swear we're gonna have an epic battle one day!"
"Yeah, one day. But for now, I have something special for this big guy."
"Sill?"
You managed to regain its full attention with a simple yet supereffective move of your very own:
It's called "chin scritches", something that none of your other Pokémon could resist receiving.
The mask obviously made it difficult for Silvally to receive proper affection back then...and you vowed to find a way to break it so you can do just that.
Now it was free of that awful and heavy thing, having a brand new life to look forward to: battles, friendships with other Pokémon, and more.
Even better?
Your three closest friends in all of Paldea were here to witness its evolution--a sign that despite all the odds...your bond was unbreakable.
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