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hazbinfallinginaspiral · 1 day

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Hey Love your stuff! The Vs being protective of Retro, preventing them remembering anything bad or near murder that they do, is actually cute considering what Retro's dark side.

So here is a thought I had after reading Valentino covering up his near murder that Retro saw. What if Retro, most likely in the tower as i can't picture them ever doing this in public, was to try and flirt with Vox and Val?

I don't expect anything more than Retro maybe trying on a risky outfit, maybe getting nervous, and getting caught of course.

I just wonder how they would react as Retro making that kinda move seems outta character for your wonderfully created Hidden Serious killer 'house wife' Sea Bunny.

Sorry if my suggestion made you uncomfortable feel free to ignore it.

Anon, you are amazing. Don’t worry about it at all! I actually have a really adorable idea because of this, and I hope you like it! (Slight spice warning? I guess. It’s just a picture of the outfit in question, nothing really happens)

Something New!

“Vel, babe,” I said, with a nervous smile. “I have a teensy tiny favor to ask of you.”

“Oh?” Velvette asked, over the phone. She motioned for her models to shut up. “And what would that be?”

“Just- please come to my room when you can,” I said quietly. I was already blushing, and I hadn’t even told her what this was about.

“Of course! I’ll be over before you know it,” she said with a grin. I never asked for favors, much less from her. She knew that whatever this was, it would be good. “Love ya sweetheart, see you soon!”

“Love you too,” I said, a small smile on my face.

She hung up and dropped everything. “Everyone! Leave! Now!” She said, pointing towards the door. “I’ve got an emergency to cover.” She made another call on her phone. “Yeah, hey, Vox? Shut off the cameras.”

“What- why?” He asked, sounding suspicious. He was watching me fidget nervously in my bedroom- he was in his office, watching from the cameras- as I awaited Velvettes arrival. “Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all! If my hunch is correct, this could be great,” Velvette said, sounding excited. “I just need you to turn off your stalker cameras for a bit- at least the ones near and around Retro. If you’re watching, they might bail.”

“Bail on what?” Vox asked, sitting up straighter. “Vel, what are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” she said in a sing song voice, already headed to my room. “Nothing you need to worry about, at least. This will be fun, trust me.”

“Fine.”

“Yes!”

“But you only get two hours,” Vox said sternly. “Then the cameras are on and I get an explanation, understand?”

“You got it, babes,” Velvette said with a grin. She hung up and knocked on my door. “Retro? I’m here, love. May I come in?”

“Hm?” I looked at the door, surprised. She’d gotten here quick. I opened the door and stepped aside, letting her in my room. “Uh, yeah, definitely.” I closed the door behind her. “Uh. Don’t you- I thought you had work?”

“Hm? Oh yes, it was a slow day,” she said, waving a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it. Now, what was that favor you needed?”

“Oh! Right,” I said, my face heating up already. I looked away and sat on my bed, fidgeting again. “I, uh… I was wondering….”

“You were wondering,” Velvette repeated, sitting down besides me. My reaction was practically confirmation of her guess, but she wanted to hear it from me. “What is it, love? You know I can’t help unless you tell me.”

“Can you- could you help me find a good outfit to wear?” I blurted. God, I was so tense and nervous. It was silly, really. This wouldn’t be my first time wearing something risky, but I was still anxious about it. I loved them, and I was afraid I’d screw it up. I was having second thoughts already. “Something for Vox and Valentino. Something they’d like.”

“Oh!” Velvette said. She put a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with surprise. She thought it was something of this nature, but to have me actually say it? Me admitting it? Damn. The way I was acting made it adorable to her. “You want something… suggestive? Or just showy?”

“W-what?” I asked, looking at her. Now I was confused. “Wait, there’s a difference? What?”

“Oh sweetheart,” she said, taking my hand in hers. “I have so much to teach you.”

For what seemed like forever, Velvette showed me an outfit and I said no. She was showing me lingerie, bondage gear, and the like. She quickly realized I was not used to this sort of thing (and I didn’t want to do anything, I just wanted to tease the boys), and toned it down. Eventually, we settled on a top and some normal pants.

(Left if you don’t have tits, right if you do. Or you could wear something else, I don’t care. I just don’t know how to describe this lol)

So, I got changed and hesitantly walked out from behind my dressing screen to show Velvette the outfit.

“So, uh… what do you think?” I asked, doing a little twirl for her. “Do you think they’ll like it?”

“Oh. My. God.” She gasped and walked over, admiring how I looked, and her handiwork. “Babes, you have got to do this more often! You look stunning. Here, let me get a picture.”

“No! No,” I said immediately pulling away. I was blushing furiously. “Please don’t. Oh my god, I should’ve known this was a bad idea. God, I feel so stupid…”

Velvette frowned, looking disappointed. She felt a pang of guilt. She hadn’t meant to make me feel that way, she just wanted something to remember the occasion. She reached out to explain, but before she could, the door opened. Vox and Valentino walked in, looking serious.

“Alright, times up,” Vox said sternly. “I turned off the cameras, now I expect an-” he cut himself off when he saw me.

“Oh,” Valentino said with a grin. “This. I like this.”

“Fuck! Fuck, no, shit- you aren’t supposed to- oh my god,” I panicked, ducking behind my dressing screen. My face was as red as a tomato. I was so embarrassed. “Please leave!”

“Wait, what?” Vox asked, looking to Velvette. He was confused by my reaction. Was he not supposed to see me like this? Hadn’t I just spent the past two hours preparing for this? Why was I reacting this way? He wondered if he did something wrong. “Did I…?”

“No, it’s not you,” Velvette said quickly. She stood and walked over to the two, looking guilty. “They’re just… a bit shy. They aren’t used to this, you know? I kind of startled them, by accident, just before you came in.”

“Oh,” Vox said. He was still processing. And overheating slightly.

“Honey bunny,” Val said softly, approaching the dressing screen slowly. “It’s okay. We didn’t- we don’t-” he sighed. He had no idea what to say. “Sweetheart..”

“It was a silly idea,” I said quietly, on the other side of the screen. I was sitting on the floor, my knees tucked to my chest. “Sorry.”

“No, no, don’t be sorry,” he said. “May I…? Please?”

I didn’t respond but I didn’t stop him, either. I was conflicted. I wanted them to see, I was just afraid. I was afraid of a negative reaction. “I… I guess.”

He pushed the dressing screen aside and folded it up, then sat down next to me. “Come here, mi amor, it’s okay,” he said gently. He reached out to touch me, but didn’t, awaiting my permission. He was being so considerate, it was unlike him. I leaned towards him, allowing him to touch me, but I didn’t meet his gaze. “You look beautiful,” he said, wrapping his arm around my waist. He pulled me up against him.

“Thank you,” I said, with a small smile.

I looked over at Vox, who seemed on the verge of a system crash. His screen was flickering and he was clearly overheating just at the sight of me. Velvette was trying to help. She was not very successful. I laughed a little to myself and smiled wider- more genuine.

“He likes it too, you know,” Val said, nudging me playfully.

“I can tell,” I said, my expression softening. I was less tense now, more relaxed. “I’m glad.”

“So… will you be doing this again?” He asked with a grin.

“We’ll see,” I said with a small laugh. “I’m not sure Vox could handle it.”

“He’ll just have to get used to it! I won’t let him stop me from seeing you all dolled up and gorgeous like this,” Valentino said with a playful huff. He gently ran his fingers along my bare skin. “You look wonderful, mi cariño.”

“I agree!” Vox said, apparently having snapped out of his little spiral. His screen had a pink tinge to it- I imagined that was his way of blushing- but he had a smile on his face. He walked over and sat with us, Velvette following close behind. “I’d love to see you like this more, if you’re comfortable with it. You look stunning, either way, my dear.”

“Thank you,” I said, blushing again. He chuckled and pulled me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me.

“Not a problem, darling,” he said softly. He gave me a kiss on the top of my head and smiled wider. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“And I love them more than you!” Velvette declared.

“Hey!”

“I love them most!”

“HEY!”

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your-nanas-house · 23 hours

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Hi Nana!! I hope you're okay ✨

I hope you don't mind but I have another kitten request ! Hear me out: Kittens your roommate and you accidentally walk in on her naked but she's not shy so she's like "you can touch me if you want?" Giving you the puppy dog eyes and she's also like "since you've seen mine, show me yours!" And while having actually fucking she admits that's she's wanted you for awhile! So smutty and fluffy! Please please please! I'm begging🥺🥺🥺🥺

Hey dear!! Sorry that it took me so longgg. I love this idea 😭 and no prob, you can always send a request! Even more than one, I don't mind at all. 🥰

Oops... I did it again.

◇ Pairing: Kitten Braden X fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, handjob, Kitten's little 'pussy', fluff, roommates, swearing

◇ Summary: Y/n finds her roommate naked waiting for her... again.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English. Shitty writing 🙇🏼‍♀️

"Kitten—" Y/n called out while entering the apartment to find her roommate, her hand grabbing the handle to open the door and walk in, ready to find the woman sitting on her bed or in front of her makeup table— and not naked with a magazine in her hand.

It was the second time that she had walked on her like that, the first had happened weeks earlier but luckily the young woman managed to close quickly the bathroom door and leave before apologizing for an either week.

They didn't talked about that "incident" but during a roommate night of theirs, the brunette woman mentioned suggestively something about being... comfortable without clothes, loving to just wander around her home with no care or fabric covering her stunning self. Sadly, Y/n was too drunk to understand the flirty tone and the meaning behind that simple statement to actually react at it like Patricia hoped.

"Oh hi, sweetheart. You're bit late, thought you would be back nearly an hour ago" Kitten's sweet provocative tone said to break the silence that the view of her bare body had created, hiding her amusement when she glanced towards the front door catching the funny expression of the young woman.

Her jaw had slightly dropped and her eyes wide in surprise, astonished by the confidence that her roommate was emanating by talking to her so casually as if she wasn’t naked and vulnerable in front of her.

"Y-Yeah... my parents kept me longer than expected" Y/n's voice came out weaker than intended, her eyes staring only at the beautiful woman's face... focused to not wander lower, although it was definitely difficult to not glance down at her smooth freckled thighs or at her alluring movements of her groomed hands

"Aw, that's cute. Can't wait to meet your family someday" Kitten beamed out while getting up from her sitting position, now showing off her god's given gift which was her body as if she was posing just for her; almost as if to barter— the vision of her body in exchange of her submission and devotion.

There really was no shame, it was quite arousing to see. Enough to make Y/n's heart beat faster, drumming in her chest, and her breath to get caught in her throat while she clenched casually her thighs together in an attempt to find some friction as her pussy got wetter.

Fucking hell... Kitten and her damn antics.

"Why do you look so shy, darling?... You can touch if you want" she offered while moving closer, her narrow and sexy hips swaying hypnotically till she came to a stop in front of her.

Her light blue eyes checked Y/n slowly out as her groomed hands moved sensually to allow her slender fingers to brush the skin of her arms, down to her wrists to take a good hold of it and help her roommate take things further by placing her hands on her waist... letting go to rest her own on her shoulders.

As Y/n looked up to meet her gaze, she could tell that Kitten had it all planned, her little naughty smile was sharing her true intentions and expectations while her small touches where doing the little work that needed to be done to break her definitely.

"You're unbelievable" the young woman commented as her thumbs caressed the soft freckled skin, pulling her body closer to her own "Truly unbelievable, Kitten" her voice added lowly as she brushed her nose against her jawline, feeling the woman's curly hair tickle her face as her scent enveloped her.

That damn... beautiful, arousing woman.

A tiny purr escaped Kitten, her breath was getting heavier at the feeling of her hands wandering around her naked body, resting on her ass to knead the flesh while her mouth worked on the tender skin of her neck

"O-Ohh... just like that" Patricia soft voice whined out, her hips buckling forward unconsciously in an attempt to find some friction for her leaking cock.

Her tip was already off an angry red, sticky due to her fluids and her balls heavy, in need of touch "Please, pretty please, Y/n baby" her plead escaped her glossy lips, asking for more while leaving wet kisses on her shoulders and every spot of bare skin she could reach.

It was quite amusing to watch, in fact Y/n's mocking face cracked to leave space to a smile, enjoying Kitten's needy self, as her eyes kept taking her whole in while her right hand brushed her stomach to reach her cock... the little 'pussy' of hers.

"Look at your pretty pussy, dripping for me, right Kitty?" Her voice hummed as her fingers caressed her lenght, grabbing it at the base before starting to stroke using her spit as a lube.

The evening light that entered from the window that faced the silent street, made Kitten look just divine, causing her pale skin glow tenderly and Y/n's stomach react with butterflies.

"Yes, that's it, honey" the young woman cooed, increasing the speed while hearing Kitten's pornographic like moans, her expression changing due to the pleasure

"Want me to go faster? Make you cum" she cooed softly again at the woman's reaction, allowing her to bury her face more into her neck while her hips kept meeting her strokes. Soft moans and pleads kept escaping from her soft lips which were pressed right against her skin, feeling her pulsing heart with them.

A couple of more strokes and Kitten shoot her load, dirtying her roommate's hand and clothes; making amends immediately with a low sensual moan that sent shivers down Y/n's spine.

"Woah, darling" the woman's voice murmured, her confident self coming back to surface "It's not your first time for sure, hm... Why don't you remove your clothes as well. I mean it's only fair, right? You saw me like mommy made me" her soft voice persuaded Y/n teasingly, making her strip in front of her and meet her baby blue eyes again.

She could tell that Kitten was loving what she had in front of her, her groomed hands twitching slightly as she held back from touching

"Why do you look so shy, darling?... You can touch if you want" Y/n stated using her previous comment against her, keeping a little smirk on her amused face as her heart kept beating like crazy, shame and nervousness eating her as she stayed still and bare acting confident as best she could.

"You aren't that shy like you want me to believe, hm? Your little pussy is getting soaked again just by seeing me like this, right.. baby?" The young woman mocked, pulling Kitten's face closer to meet her soft lips with hers; the sweet taste of her lip gloss lingering on her tongue as soon as she granted her permission.

Patricia's hands reached for Y/n's naked hips when their kiss got more passionate, their heart was beating fast and almost in sync as their lips met in little pecks when they slowly laid down.

"Wanted this for so long—" Patricia's soft but sensual voice revealed to her roommate as her hands pushed Y/n's body down to take control since her 'pussy' was throbbing, her pre-cum smeared all over the young woman's stomach.

Kitten was about to spread her roommate's legs and position herself at her entrance when she suddenly fall forward due to the grip of her, who wrapped her arm around her lower back to nudge her legs apart, carefully to not hurt Patricia.

Both with spread legs so that their genitals were touching together.

"Grind that pretty pussy on me, honey" the sentence made the woman shiver and move her hips that matched hers. Her balls soaked by Y/n's juices as her 'pussy' kept rubbing against her soft skin wetting it more with pre-cum.

As Patricia's light blue eyes met Y/n's, her cheek flushed a darker pink and her mouth opened slightly to let sinful moans escape her. She had waited so long for that moment, for the occasion to cause that sensual expression on her friend's face, cause the blush and messed up hair, as well as the sexy moans and praises directed at her.

It was sinful, a sensual but sweet dance that got dirtier as soon as they both reached their peak.

"Gosh" Kitten breathed out with a chuckle, her curly hair tickling Y/n's skin while she rested on her chest to catch her breath and get cuddled, feel loved.

Their both were coming down from their climax, enjoying each other's warmth as they gathered the strength to get up and clean

"Best roommate ever, hm?" Y/n hummed, earning a positive answer followed by a chuckle from the curly woman.

#kitten braden x reader #patricia kitten braden #kitten braden #kitten braden x you #kitten braden x y/n #patricia braden x reader #patricia braden x you #patricia braden x y/n #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy fanfic

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 4 months

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strangling my past self How Did You Write Reasonably Sized Fics So Easily

#IVE FORGOTTEN HOW TO NOT GET CARRIED AWAY HELP #sitting here with scenes that should NOT BE 5 THOUSAND FUCKING WORDS LONG HELLOOOOOOOOO #my brain: You Have To Show Every Single Thing. Every Convo. Every Action. They Have To Know #NO! THEY DONT! ITS CLUTTERED AND BORING AND AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #see this is what happens when you don't write seriously for FUCKIGN MONTHS-#its fine we're fine im Calm #trying to edit my own stuff is like wrangling some Wild Beast with my bare hands #she has horns! i am bleeding from Several large punctures! i will not let go!#absolutely unprompted #past me: bangin out 2k-5k fics that include multiple scenes and conversations each of perfect length #me now: and so this simple 'good morning' exchange will take ten pages-#WAILING WAILING #but god damn i need to create Something i have to i have to #i feel like im losing my mind....#I WANT TO BE POSTING FIC AGAIN CMON CMON

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trans-leek-cookie · 10 months

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someone talking about the ways media and common tropes/depictions of things that are either explicitly or implicitly linked to marginalized people are demonized and presented badly is not a fucking opportunity for you to flex how you're doing it Differently And Better

#I'll rb the post but I domt want to add it on cause it feels. Not my place maybe #Anyway fun fact! You can think that all you fucking want! Close your God damn mouth about it and figure out if it actually adds to the #Conversation! Marginalized ppl don't have to hear about how you're hashtag Not Like The Others!!! TAKE IN THE INFORMATION AND CONSIDER IF #THE THINGS YOU DO TRULY DEFY STEREOTYPES OR ARE STILL IMPLICITLY INSPIRED BY THESE BIASES!!! AND DO IT QUIETLY OR WITH SOMEONE WHOS WILLING #TO LISTEN! NOT ON THE POST INFORMING YOU OF THE PROBLEMS EXISTENCE #Also I'd move this tag up but genuinely idk if I can do that atm. But I'm LITERALLY guilty of the same shit. I immediately jump to no true #Scotsman the subject because I want to defend it!!! Yes I recognize the pattern is wrong and yes I genuinely believe it isn't necessarily #Inherent! But I still have to confront the fact that it's so prominent and to many people inseparable from the subject #(That being disability and body horror). I will say: my immediate instinct was to disregard any body horror that is just like Real Shit Tha #Happens To People as body horror but that's not helpful! I can't just say well it's not body horror BECAUSE PEOPLE STILL CALL AND SEE IT AS #BODY HORROR!!! I HAVE TO STOP AND CONSIDER THE LARGER IMPLICATIONS. My PERSONAL OPINIONS do not matter and the pedantic discussion is #Something to be had with friends or used as it's own criticism of the genre not ON THE POST CALLING OUT A REAL ISSUE! Anyway just.#Both artists and consumers have to be critical of What we see as body horror/what others tell us is body horror/what we accept as body #Horror bc/what we create as body horror etc. We NEED to confront that and we can't just say I Wouldn't Do That! We need to understand that #It goes deeper than that!!! Also YOU DONT INHERENTLY KNOW WHATS POSSIBLE FOR A HUMAN TO EXPERIENCE #There's so many things that ppl can experience and Live With! There are obviously things that are fatal so u rarely hear abt them but human #Beings can survive a lot of things!!! And here's the thing: the rarer something is the shittier it feels to have it misrepresented!!!#At the very basic level: CHECK IF THE THING YOU WANT TO USE AS BODY HORROR IS A RECORDED PHENOMENON AT LEAST!!! FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK #DO THE BARE MINIMUM

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thebewilderer · 1 year

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nothing quite like (APPARENTLY?!) the cw show supernatural to get me just as pissed off about christian mythology as i was when i first learned of it as a kid

#supernatural #like IMAGINE creating a species SPECIFICALLY with Free Will And Consciousness #and then getting supremely mad and damning them and all of their descendants to Eternal Pain And Damnation And Suffering #because they... used their Free Will And Consciousness... that they were given...#like look i get it: if i design an ai and it does something i don't want imma be mad but #if i design an ai and SPECIFICALLY GIVE IT THE ABILITY TO DEFY ME #imma expect it to defy me #because that's what it was built to do #and punishing it for defying me is just fucking evil #like if y'all wanna have a god based on filial piety then just... do that?#you don't need to make it a hypocritical god that Demands Filial Piety but ALSO gives Free Will and then punishes the use of said Free Will #just make a asshole god why is that a problem #and THEN there's the whole lucifer thing oooh dont get me started on THAT particular bit of hypocrisy #roses supernatural rewatch #ih #i got a bit out of hand here lmao #its just such a hypocritical set of beliefs #i aint met a single person who can convince me 'all loving and forgiving god' and #'existence of hell and also damnation of adam and eve' can coexist #and like i grew up w this religion i went to mass and everything #still think its hypocritical and bullshit and awful #fndm

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jaythelay · 8 months

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People say "limitation is necessary for art"

But I don't think everyone hearing that thinks of it in the right direction.

To simplify it, "limitation" does not mean negative, or worse. The better word is "barrier"

To visualize, imagine pouring water on a table, it goes everywhere, it's not very interesting, no work was put in to make it unique.

Now make barriers, into a maze-like pattern, and watch as you pour, it instead squeezes past the barriers to an endpoint.

The idea of limitations isn't one to be viewed negatively. It's why old movies, games, comics, music, are worth going back to. A creator worked within limitations, that's not something worth discarding, it is the essence of creation. You can learn from all creation, even when those, barriers without choice, are gone.

The sign of a good artist, is one that recognizes limitation simply means building a story with pieces you set up, to make the flow of it something mesmerizing and worth experiencing.

But the sign of a true artist is one that chooses their limitations when they no longer have any.

#some gay ass shit I thought of and walked away from then came back and finished #creator advice #like seriously don't take it so up my own ass as it be #it just is #I literally thought of this because I got mad at myself thinking of a video where some dude shits on indie games for mostly being “retro”#themed #and like buddy #the fuck does that mean #It's so surface level and hardly touches anything #If someone wants to make a game within the artistic barriers of a PS1 style #that's just some dude creating something #like why does it need to be negative #Or NES retro stuff #like dude again you're making a fucking youtube video #they're treading grounds a FUCKLOAD of people already covered and know EXTENSIVELY more than anything modern day #Like no fucking shit the small dev chose the Literal Best Barriers for their budget #No fucking shit they chose a path you consider “easier”#you fucking tuber #It was an artistic choice every god damned time #sure there's some that are worth pointing out have nothing past the visuals #but you don't just stop at the visuals and turn your fucking brain off #cmon man #It's like being pissed people are using a rake instead of a leaf blower #get over yourself #okay stupid tag rant over #and pretentiousness

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xo-cod · 6 months

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this wasn't supposed to be a poly thing but here we are lmfaoo, nsfw version <3 rushed/ooc/the usual. i'm not that happy w this, could've more nsfw but 🥴

cw: p in v, cockwarming, eating out, unprotected sex, a bit of everything 😭 18+/mdni!

sfw version

POSSESSIVENESS!!!!

oh my god, they are all so possessive

if you've spent too long with one of them, the other immediately scenting you in their musk

"you smell much better now" he finally grumbles having finished removing the scent from the other man and he can finally take you in his arms

high libidos, i mean they're big burly men 🤭 it's both a blessing and a curse </3

price is a passionate lover. you've got him hooked on your taste and he damn well sure explore every nook and cranny you've to offer. he will learn your body like the back of his hand, knowing what parts usually respond to and what gets you turned on. how to touch you, how to caress you, this is all his forte

ghost is an intense lover, especially when he's been away from you. instantly marking you and devouring you the second he gets his hands on you. really hands on with you, his tactical gloves thrown behind his back and his mask rolled up over his nose before he's kissing you like a starved man

gaz is a doting lover, he's all about the small moments :") kissing you when the head of his cock rubs against your slit, holding your hand when his thrusts get deeper and longer, whispering the most prettiest words when you're whimpering against him :((

soap is a fun lover. sex isn't serious with him unless he's been away and couldn't have you. he likes all the sounds you make and he encourages you to make them, he loves seeing your pretty smile as he makes you feel good. wants to try different positions but heavily enjoys the ones that have you as close to him as possible

price and ghost are definitely the type to make it their personal mission to get you to moan louder when you've spent the night with another man, being forced to hear your pretty whimpers and losing it completely when they hear you cum

won't burst into the room but will bide his time until the night where he'll do everything and anything to get you a moaning mess

"does he fuck you like this? tell me princess, is he better than me?" you'll hear some taunts during the peak of your orgasms and depending on the mood, he might just even withhold your orgasm 😗

soap and ghost really like cockwarming afterwards, purely to feel close with you after a particularly hard day <3

something about feel you so close to his body, your warm cunt gently squeezing around him as he lays on your chest brings him the most joy <3

price and gaz hold you in their huge arms and whisper sweet words as you both nod off to sleep, his touch lingering against your skin as he drifts off

fivesomes when you're bored lmfaoo 😵‍💫🫣😮‍💨

price situates himself in the back, ghost in your cunt, soap in your mouth and gaz in your hand.

your body is sandwiched between the thick warm bodies of price and ghost, both of them kissing and pawing at your skin to feel more

price taking control over your hips, gently rolling against it so not to overwhelm you, "taking us so well pretty, eh?"

"look at 'er, such a good love" ghost chuckled softly, pressing down on the bulge he's created in your stomach causing both of you to groan.

soap's cock in your mouth, his hand caressing the bulge he's making in your neck as he eases himself more, "that's it, bonnie. such a good fuckin girl"

gaz cooing at how much of a good girl you are while you stroke him, his lips peppering soft kisses on your neck no doubt leaving behind marks in their wake, "so beautiful like this, sweetheart"

will 100% buy you an anklet with all their initials on it

will go absolutely feral over you when one of them needs you and another wants you

testosterone levels hitting the roof, a fight will break out if they're ansty enough. will not share, he needs you for himself ‼️‼️

they are obsessed with your cunt

there has been times when you've been incredibly overstimulated from pleasure and how much they've latched on to your clit, his face buried as deep as possible while he licks and sucks

soap and ghost could honestly spend hours lapping at your clit, spreading your walls to get in deeper. using their fingers to stimulate the bundle of nerves hidden inside, enjoying how responsive you are

you'll usually have to push their faces away, their eyes blown and their bottom half of their face covered with your slick

gaz loves to suck your nipples, his mouth latched on to your chest while his tongue rolls over the sensitive bud over and over. releasing with a pop and a string of saliva before he gives the same attention to the other, his hands pressing into your back to bring you closer <33

price loves marking you anywhere he can get his lips on. loves sucking your skin and the taste, pressing a tender kiss afterwards.

they love fidgeting with you!! :")

ghost would have you in his lap, his cock buried deep inside your cunt as he goes over his work. his hips occasionally rolling up a little to give you some friction while he works away, his hand snaking down to gently rub circles on your aching clit while he presses sweet kiss to your shoulder blade, soft promises that he'll be done in a half hour or so

price would have you on his lap, one hand in your panties while the other works on his paperwork. his fingers toying and teasing your clit, running down to press his middle finger inside up at the first knuckle before going back up to tap at your clit again. loves making your folds all puffy and sensitive :(

soap having you under his desk all cosied up as you suck him underneath, licking lazy strokes over the head of his cock. lapping up at his precum, gagging softly when you push your head down until your nose touched the soft tuft of hair at the base of his cock. his legs wrapped around your body, holding you steady cooing softly at how good you are <3

gaz touching and caressing your body while he has to finish a task price set up for him. absentmindedly stroking your your thighs and hips until they reach between your legs, his fingers gently stroking against your eager cunt. not enough to actually get you off but enough for the tiniest bit of pressure, lazily separating your walls and fingering you with his middle and ring finger as he works <3

they all 100% have breeding kinks and together?? 😵‍💫😵‍💫

"wanna put my baby in you, you'd look so fuckin beautiful" ghost panted, watching him cum drip out of your hole fucking it right back in. making sure not a drop is wasted

"one kid might not hurt, what do you say gorgeous, hm?" price's breath was shuttered as he leans on his forearms, his eyes sparkling with desire and passion. the king of breeding, he'll continue to thrust his cum into you until your stomach bulges a little from how stuffed you are

"so so beautiful" gaz hummed, hiking your legs higher on his shoulder while his hand gently pressed down against your stomach, your whimpers music to his ears as his balls tightened. sending him over the edge as he thrusted his cum deep inside your womb

"you'd look so fuckin beautiful pregnant with my kids, wouldn't you bonnie?" his groans are echoing with your moans, with every powerful drive of his hips you can feel your control slip further away. he's so feral, not giving you a chance to even speak before he holds you close and his cock filling you up with his seed. overfilled and you can feel it rush out, dripping down between your bodies

heaven forbid another recruit even hands you a compliment, their ears will have picked it up no matter where they are

and the tension levels in that room will have risen to the skies

silent death stares, stiff postures, the poor recruits looking around wondering why his superiors are suddenly giving him the meanest death glares known to mankind and why ghost looks like the grim reaper

you'll spend the evening with all four of them, not moving a single inch unless you absolutely have to

price and ghost get jealous when you have toys, why would you need them when you can use him??

soap and gaz like the toys to bring you orgasm after orgasm, watching you break apart in his arms from the pure pleasure

threesome with price and ghost is very intense. both men are the top dogs, trying to beat the other and competing with each other. it usually ends with several orgasms from uou before either one of them has cum

gaz and soap are devious, finding different ways to stimulate your body and new ways to pleasure you. gaz kissing you, his tongue working your mouth while soap's mouth has latched on to your wet cunt, nuzzling and lapping while he holds you down with his hands

soft sex!!! all of them crave it :") <33

they're not all rough and tumble all the time

price and gaz love having soft sex in the early morning, not only to get his day started right but the morning is so peaceful with the birds singing and the sun barely peeking over the horizon

soap and ghost are more night time enjoyers, the peace and quiet of the darkness and the silence that comes with it. he just wants to be fully immersed with you, not a single thing on his mind

"how's that feeling, beautiful?" price murmured out, brushing away the strands of your hair as he pushed inside you again. he can feel his shoulders slump against yours tiredly, you always manage to make him feel so safe his guard is almost always down when it comes to you. you look so beautiful underneath him, he can't help but stroke your skin pulling you in closer so that he's snuggling right on you <3

"feel so good around me lovie, so good f'me" ghost whispered in to your ear as he caged you between his huge arms, putting you in a mating press as he angles his cock in deeper to your sopping cunt. drawing soft mewls from your lips which he drinks up eagerly with his own lips. he lives for the soft moments, his arms wrapped snugly around your waist while his lips kiss yours, never wanting to leave the safe haven he's found between your arms <3

"squeezin me so tight, baby" soap's breath was hitched as he gently bottomed out, his lips finding yours as he presses tender kisses. his life can become so hectic and chaotic, he really does cherish every single second he can with you and he loves how close he can be to your body. and for him, it's not even about the sex. he just wants to bury himself as much as he can in you <3

"that's my girl" gaz nuzzled into your neck, his hips rolling lazily against yours while he cradles you close to his chest. a soft groan leaves his lips when he feels the pressure around his cock, his head still hazy from sleep and pleasure. bringing you closer as his face rests in the crook of your neck, just able to be kyle instead of a soldier <3

aftercare is a must for all of them, no matter how intense the sex was.

each of them have their preferred way but they all bundle you up close to them, holding you tightly to their chest as their heartbeat provides a steady rhythm in your ears

gentle tender kisses pressed on your forehead, your back gently stroked as their voices offer you water and a snack

depending on each of them, you'll either find yourself being cleaned very softly with a towel thoroughly before he holds you close as you settle to bed

or you're being carried in his arms for a shower, him mostly taking care of everything for you <33

#call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #john soap mactavish #john price #john price x reader #john price x reader smut #soap mactavish x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader smut #kyle gaz garrick #simon riley x reader smut #141 x reader #cod 141 #task force 141

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pellucid-constellations · 3 months

Text

Reversal

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: When protecting your mate brings out a side you swore to keep hidden, you have to deal with the consequences.

Word count: 3.7k

Warnings: Violence, injury, angst, some self-deprecation

a/n: This is loosely based off of this request <3 thank you for sending it!! I hope you enjoy and I also love comments!! ♡

Masterlist ♡

In the heat of battle, there was kindness.

That was a ludicrous sentiment, and Azriel had reminded you of that many times, but it was something you believed in.

War was hot flames and blood and the clashing of metal, but it was also reassurance and soft hands and wisps of healing light. If war was cruel and it stole, you were kind and you gave.

The first war had been a teacher, guiding you to your role. The second war had been reinforcement, showing you what it meant to be the Night Court’s healer. And then you thought you were done—done with attempting the impossible.

But then Beron took a stance that no one could foresee, and you were not done.

With the soldiers of Autumn Court came an impenetrable heat, and it was your job to quell the scars that plagued Rhysand’s frontlines. You were the one set to heal the broken and save the damned, and you were the one set to protect the court with kindness.

It was awful work.

Azriel was always quick to agree.

Your mate hated these wars more than you did, and that was an almost impossible feat. Azriel was never close to you in the throes of battle. There was always a cluster of shadows on your trail, but he could never be there himself. You knew it ate away at him, distracting him when he was supposed to be zeroed in on the enemies.

But, you had reminded him as he held you close in the tent the night before, you hadn’t died yet, and maybe you’d never die from a war. Maybe you weren’t destined to.

He had only pulled you closer at that, pressed his lips to your head as his wings hid you from the camp that made far too much noise. He held you so tightly you felt his pulse on the skin of your cheek and you pretended you were back at home.

Because although you were the kindness within the war, you wanted to go home.

Gods, did you want to go home.

Flames raced along the outskirts of the blue shield that had enveloped you the moment your knees hit the ground beside the unconscious Illyrian soldier. They pushed and pried, trying to force their way past your mate’s protection as you trained your attention on the wound marring the soldier’s skin.

Azriel would protect you.

He always did, even when he couldn’t be beside you.

“I’m… going to die,” the male beneath your hands huffed out, a line of sweat at his brow.

“No,” you assured. “No, you’re going to be okay. I just need a few more moments.”

You couldn’t see what was making him so assuredly pessimistic—couldn’t see the way the flames were creating cracks in the shimmering blue light. They were covering every inch of the shield, making the air in the circle red with heat and promised death.

You noticed a moment too late.

It was unbearable, the suffocating fire. You threw your body over the soldier as if that would make a difference, arms and shoulders wrapping over his head as your leathers scorched and your lungs burned. The male screamed, his legs thrashing. You wanted to replicate the sound, but you were kindness. Kindness did not scream.

It ended as abruptly as it began, flames dissipating into blackened embers. You felt a crack in the bond during the disappearance, Azriel’s fear and rage embedding itself into the golden thread connecting you. That, too, ended as abruptly as it began; Azriel shut his side down, saving you from the ravaging emotions.

You whipped around to search for him, eyes up towards the sky. You found him quickly, with a practiced eye. You’d looked for him in every room you’d entered for almost your entire life. It was easy to find Azriel. As easy as breathing.

That breath was stolen from you the moment your gaze locked on his form.

He was falling.

He had charged—alone—into the group that was to blame for your injuries, for the flames that had almost consumed you, and now he was falling.

He was falling and he wasn’t conscious.

You think you screamed, but that couldn’t be right. Screaming led to panicked patients, and panicked patients led to worse outcomes. Your screams were not welcomed in war.

You tugged at the bond, desperate to rouse him into saving himself. But it was no use; he was plummeting to the ground and there was nothing you could do.

When you looked back on it later—when it fizzled as dim memories within your dreams—your actions would become more clear. You’d remember that you stood up, and then the ground shook. That the years of training required to be a field healer included so much more than twisting bursts of soothing light.

And something within you had awoken that day, the moment you saw wakefulness leave Azriel’s being… something that was not kindness or giving or calm.

It was rage.

A piece of you recognized that Azriel had been caught. Cassian’s wings had most likely ached from the speed with which he dove to catch his brother, but both members of your family were safe. Harmed, but safe. Not dead.

Your rage didn’t care.

Something deep within you snapped, and light was pouring from the tips of your fingers. It wasn’t the same hue that healed. It was darker; a hungry red.

The enemies from the sky fell.

When those on the ground saw the damage you had inflicted, you became their target. And fine, let them, because this power coursing through you had no sense of who was to blame for your mate’s injuries. To you, everyone was a threat. Everyone was to blame.

With a practiced grace, tainted by years of disuse, you attacked. The scene was cloaked in a red hue. Fae after fae charged at you, but it was all fruitless. You felt pain, injuries covering your skin, but it was all muted by the overwhelming desire to end this. To somehow soothe the ache you felt from watching your mate fall.

Time became obsolete.

Morals became blurred.

You were a machine, a complete reversal from the position you had assumed all those years ago.

“Y/n!”

Through the fog, a scream.

“Y/n, stop!”

Another far away call.

“It’s done. It’s over. Stop. Look at me and stop.”

Something was pressing against your cheeks. It was firm and grounding and the focus returned to your gaze.

“That’s it. Look at me, y/n.”

Cassian. When all was righted, Cassian stood in front of you, his posture hunched as he leaned down to catch your eyes. He was dirty and his leathers were torn, but all you could focus on was the panicked frenzy marring his face.

When he spoke next, the words were no longer accompanied by the incessant buzzing that had invaded your ears. “You with me, sweetheart?”

Your lips felt numb.

“Give me a nod or something. Az will kill me if you go catatonic on us.”

“I’m okay,” you whispered, voice rough. “Azriel, he—”

“He’s here.” Cassian turned your head in his hands, showing you the shadowsinger propped up against a dirt bank. “That self-sacrificing idiot is fine.”

He wasn't fine, not really. His breaths were labored and his hand clutched at his side with a shaky grip. You wanted to move towards him, to try and take away some of his pain, but your legs were stuck. Everything was stuck and you couldn't move.

It didn’t matter, anyway. When your eyes trailed up from his body, the look on his face would have deterred you from even speaking to him. He looked… horrified. Hazy eyes blinked across the battlefield—the one you decimated—and they shut just as fast. They squeezed shut, clamping down so tightly it looked like it hurt. Azriel seemed to shiver at the carnage.

When your chest heaved at the realization, your body seemed to shut down. You felt your legs give out first, heard the curse shot out by Cassian, and felt the hands pressing to your back as your mind gave way to unconsciousness.

When you woke, the heaviness in your body was not entirely physical.

There were, of course, a few broken bones. You could feel the aches and pains from battle and knew that you hadn’t gotten away unscathed, but that was all manageable. Fae healing was fast-acting and you would be fine within a few days.

But it wasn’t the physical pain keeping you from opening your eyes.

It was the reminder of Azriel’s face.

The disgust written into his features.

You were supposed to be his antithesis.

When Azriel came home at the end of a day, he was supposed to be comforted by your warmth and softness. You were kindness and light and graceful silence. You were a healer, granting life, and he was an angel of death.

Before you had met him, that had not been the truth. You were a healer, yes, but you were a field healer. The continent you hailed from prided themselves in being both the saviors of life and the bringers of death. You were to be the judgment—deciding who received which fate.

But then you met Azriel, and with him came balance. With him came the need to be only one part of you.

So you hid away the side of you meant to be cruel. You trained softly in self-defense only and you shied away from the instinct to protect with fists and power.

And you loved the way he looked at you because of it.

You loved the soft eyes and silent laughs; the tender way he held you and the sweet way he brushed his lips to your innocent skin. He coveted you, protected you, and you were the one he sought comfort in.

You were his mate, his equal, his mirror.

You wished your eyes could remain shut forever.

“Will she wake up soon?”

Mor, you could deduce.

“The healers said there was no way to know. She… Gods, Mor, you should have seen her out there. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Cassian.

“I wish I had been there. It sounds like she kicked some ass,” Mor smugly replied.

Cassian huffed out a laugh. “That’s an understatement.” A pause. “It was more than just that though. It was like she was using her healing in a different way. She cleared the field in front of her. There’s no way that just… came out of her.”

“You know what the mating bond does to people. What it can unleash.”

“I get that. But it looked natural for her. It looked practiced.”

You heard Mor sigh. A hand brushed against the top of yours, taking it into a soft grip.

“I just hope she's alright,” Mor murmured.

“She has to be.”

When you awoke next, it was alone. You had been fighting sleep for what you assumed to be the better part of a day and decided that was enough. Eventually, you had to face the consequences of your actions.

You swung your feet over the side of the cot, feeling surprisingly rested and well despite the few pains shooting along your limbs. You took hesitant steps towards the mouth of the tent, propping open the canvas billowing in the wind before taking a more confident step onto dirt and rocks.

“Good, you’re up.” It was Rhysand who spotted you first. “Just in time for our debrief.”

The casualness with which he spoke left you disoriented. The High Lord only blinked at you, a small, impassive smile on his face as he waited for you to take the arm he had outstretched. Your mouth parted as if to speak, but nothing was coming out.

“I know you’re recovering, y/n, but I need my best at this meeting,” he encouraged, elbow jutting towards you. “Come. We’ll speak and then we’ll return to Velaris. We will go home.”

Your reservations were odd when you compared them to the understanding on Rhys’s face. He wasn’t upset or disgusted or angry; the High Lord’s smile turned up at the corner of his mouth and his expression spoke of sympathy, as if he already knew about the turmoil raging within you.

“Azriel—”

“Is there already. Unhappy, but there.”

Unhappy.

Of course.

Who would want a mate that ravaged battlefields?

Your lip quivered, but you bit it to stop the emotion from showing. “Right,” you nodded, and you let Rhys guide you to the large tent in the middle of the camp.

It was full; you had to push your way in to meet the rest of your court. Azriel was the only one seated amongst them, and you could tell by the twitch of his wings that he had been placed in that chair begrudgingly.

Your eyes skated across his for a fleeting moment. You were quick to turn away, focusing on the material of Rhys’s jacket as he stopped in the corner of the tent.

There was a faint tug on the bond, muted by the wall you had erected. You thought about letting it down, but you were scared of what you’d feel. Azriel was a good male; good enough to attempt to hide the revulsion he was feeling.

But you’d be able to parse it out the second you dropped your mental shield.

You kept your eyes forward as the high lords spoke around the tent. The large table in the center was covered in maps and wooden pegs and you flowed in and out of focus as treaties and strategies and plans all mingled in the space.

Another tug at the bond.

Another shield placed around your mind.

“And what of her?”

Rhys took a step in front of you, covering half of your body from view. “What of her?” he countered, a calmness in his tone as he replied to the High Lord of Spring.

Tamlin raised a brow. “Are we just supposed to ignore that your ‘healer’ is a danger to all of our courts?”

“You are a fool,” Feyre spat out, hands splayed on the table.

“She is a weapon,” Tamlin seethed, finger jutting out towards you.

You flinched, and the room exploded in shadows.

You heard several gasps, a few weapons being unsheathed, but over everything was the low rumble of Azriel’s voice.

“Don’t speak of her as if she is an object,” he threatened. “Don’t speak of my mate at all.”

“Reign in your dog,” Tamlin spat, but that only spurred on the hostility in the room.

A chair screeched back, crashing against wood as loud, reverberating footsteps echoed in the otherwise silent tent. No one made a sound. Some of the shadows gave way, retreating to wind around your body, and you were met with the scene across the table.

“I will show you a weapon, High Lord,” Azriel promised, chest-to-chest with Tamlin.

The sight made you sick.

Azriel was a protector. You were used to that truth. But before, things were different. Before, he was protecting you while you were still pure, still innocent in his eyes.

Now, it was after. After you had killed and killed for him. After he had hurtled to the ground and awoken to find the death his mate had caused. And he was still protecting you, defending you, despite it all.

Were you really worth this?

You were worth it before.

Now, you weren’t so sure.

On shaking legs, you shouldered your way out of the tent, breath caught in your lungs. The ringing from the battlefield returned to your ears, blocking out the conversations starting in your absence. The shadows stayed with you, twirling with alarm and flowing through your hair in an attempt to gain your attention.

A weapon. That explained you well—the ability to save lives and take them away. If they all considered you a weapon, where would you go? By Tamlin’s logic, being locked away would be best.

Maybe that was best.

You wondered what Azriel would think was best—where his weapon of a mate belonged. Because it was certainly no longer in the calmness of the home you shared.

Your shaking continued as you brought your hand up to your forehead. Azriel did that sometimes, when you were panicked or anxious or scared. He’d place his scarred touch on your forehead and lean your head up to grant you more air. He’d follow with his lips and then pull you into his arms, but you knew none of that was coming.

So you leaned forward and felt the sobs creeping up your chest to take the place of air. Your knees fell to the dirt and you collapsed into the feeling of your family, love, life changing forever.

Until the shadows retreated.

You glanced up when their swishing stopped and found another pair of knees pressing to yours in the dirt. The leathers covering them were fresher than yours, cleaner, but they were also wrapped in bandages and stabilizers that matched the ones along their ribs and stomach.

Another crane of your neck and Azriel was leaning down to catch your gaze, mouth parted. Maybe he’d been speaking for a while; the buzzing made it impossible to know.

“Are you alright, my love?” he asked, low and so, so concerned. Much more concerned than you deserved. Much more gentle than he had spoken in the tent.

And all you could think to say was, “I’m sorry,” and you sobbed out the words with gut-wrenching sincerity.

“I’m sorry, Azriel. I’m so sorry. I never meant—I never wanted this—“

Azriel shushed you, his fingers working to guide your hair away from your face. You felt selfish for needing that from him as his body was bandaged and his wings were wrapped.

“I’m sorry I’m not who you thought I was. That I’m a monster. You were just falling so fast and I couldn’t stop it. I couldn't stop it,” you gasped out, giving in to your instincts as you grappled at the material of Azriel’s shirt. “I wanted to protect you and there was nothing I could do. You’re supposed to feel safe with me and I’ve ruined everything.”

With each word came more tears and more heaving breaths. Azriel held you through each of them, his hands firm at your elbows, his head shaking as you laid everything before him. Occasionally, your name fell from his lips in a soft whisper, but he never interrupted you.

“I’m not supposed to be this person to you. I’m supposed to be all of the good parts, and now I’m—now I’m someone else and you can’t—you’re not going to love all of the parts and—”

“Look at me, angel,” Azriel softly interrupted, sliding his fingers along your hairline, his eyes searching every inch of your face. When your gaze snapped to his, a bittersweet smile graced his pretty features. “There she is.”

A hysterical laugh left you, your emotions mingling with his as the bond flowed freely between you. You didn’t have the energy or willpower to block him out anymore. A rush of relief was sent through you as Azriel realized the opening.

“You are not a monster.” Azriel’s whisper was so clear, so close. “And I love every part of you, y/n. Especially the part I saw on that field. You saved me—protected our court and family. How could I not love that?”

“I saw your face,” you whispered back, the words brushing Azriel’s lips as your foreheads met. “You looked—”

“I looked disappointed in myself.”

“In yourself?”

Azriel brought both hands to your cheeks. “I lead you to that carnage. Y/n, I’m sorry that I wasn’t there to take that load for you… to shoulder that burden.”

“You aren’t… disgusted by me?”

“My love, I love you more. What you did for me… you’re so strong. Cassian told me how amazing you were. Why have you never told me?”

You shifted back on your knees, blinking under Azriel’s adoring, forgiving gaze. The shadowsinger didn’t let you get far, however, sliding his hands down your jaw, your shoulders, and settling on the tops of your thighs.

Touching you, it seemed, was imperative.

“When we were mated,” you began, tears still lingering in your throat. “I was new to Prythian—new to having a family. Everyone kept telling me that we were equals in opposite. They said I was a blessing from the cauldron to be so different from you but so in love. And then you… you called me things like peace and safety and calm. I saw the work you did and I knew I couldn’t tell you what I was trained for. Being a healer was enough.”

The hands on your thighs tense. Azriel’s shadows pooled beneath you, swirling like a puddle of darkness.

“I never meant for you to hide,” he murmured.

“Azriel—”

“Never, angel. You could burn down the world and you’d still be my peace. You could be a weapon and I’d find my safety in you.”

He sighed out a disbelieving laugh.

“I love you,” he affirmed, eyes so sure. “I love you when you heal the broken and I love you when you decimate battlefields.” A small smirk. “I wish I had known about the second half a little sooner. I might not have teased you about your book choices as often.”

You scoffed, a watery smile finally lighting up your face. “Don’t start.”

“Should I tell you all the other times I should have been wary? Or maybe all of the reasons Cassian should be afraid now? It seems that’s the only way to get you to smile, and seeing as you are the reason we won the war, you should be doing far more of it.”

The bond shone within you, bursting with joy as a laugh escaped your lips—a real laugh. The sound was soon smothered by Azriel’s kiss, and you knew things were changing.

And that was okay.

#azriel x reader #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x you #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel fanfic #azriel angst

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tsaritza-mika · 29 days

Text

Sorry not Sorry guys...

I respect all your inter-companion romance ships, and I hope they bring you joy and endless inspiration, but I have a primal need for something different. I don't need my companions dating each other.

I need them to be the most dysfunctional yet supportive found family they can be

I need Karlach to be literal 'Mama K' and grab Shadowheart and Lae'zel by the scruff and put them on coat hangers, telling them that if they can't say anything nice, then shut the fuck up for five minutes and if they can do that, then she'll come and let them down

I need Astarion and Gale to get into such a spat that all dignity and posh goes out the fucking window, and they devolve into two grown-ass men having a 13-year-old style slap fight while calling each other the harshest of obscenities, but if anyone from the outside tries calling either of them less than fabulous, they join forces and fuck them up

I need Wyll, Shadowheart, and Lae'zel to do each other's hair while discussing all the ways they've taken down various opponents and monsters, and how they would have done things better

I need Jaheira just smacking everyone upside the head whenever they say or do something stupid. Because gods dammit why is she always the only one who can see trouble from a hundred miles away, only to have her perception check fail and stumble right into a trap Halsin had set up to catch food for dinner

I need Astarion to embroider offensive cross stitch into every other companion's tents when he's left behind at camp, for no other reason than he's feeling salty that day

I need Halsin to wildshape into a bear just so he can surprise Karlach with an actual bear and Clive having a tea party with flower crowns and drawings of the horrible ways Gortash will be killed

I need Shadowheart being a petty bitch and letting anyone who was being especially stupid in a fight get a little too close to death as punishment before finally healing them. Because that's just what healers do

I need Gale pranking people with his spells. Use mage hand to yank the rug out from under Lae'zel after she insisted that he was too squishy to fight properly. Casting 'create water' over Shadowheart to ruin her makeup in retaliation for saying last night's stew was a bit bland. Use Telekinesis to fling Astarion off in some random direction because dammit Gale just woke up, and the man needs his coffee before he can properly deal with all of that first thing in the damn morning

I need Lae'zel to take pillow fights just a little too seriously

I need Wyll begging Halsin and Jaheira if they can wildshape into a bear and a shark just so he can ride both of them through the Chionthar while recklessly casting Fireball and Lightning Bolt at the sky, because just think of how cool he would look doing it

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ohdeerfully · 3 months

Note

Requests? I got you 😌

Reader who made a deal with Alastor, be his informant, and he'll provide aid when needed. And reader was damn good at holding up their end of the deal, while Alastor hasn't really needed to uphold his since aid hasn't been asked for.

So what might happen when his dear little informant hasn't came back from gathering info on the Vee's?

EATING IT UP idk i love this kind of stuff thank you so much. im making this a two-parter! it was getting kinda long and i wanted to get something posted (:

Your Half of the Deal (i)

Alastor x Reader part i part ii part iii TW: kidnapping, cursing, alastor is manipulative (per usual), alastor is in denial if you want to be tagged in the next part, let me know! ═══ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ══════════ ◈ ═══

Deals with Alastor were, for a lack of better words, a big deal. Not something to mess around with. His twisted nature allowed him to create so many loopholes for himself, forcing one to do more than what they bargained him for. It was unfair, but that’s what happens when you make a deal with the Radio Demon.

You weren’t as lucky as the other demons at the hotel, not receiving the typical advice Vaggie debriefed any newcomer. Alastor got to you first. He got you soon after you fell into Hell, before you even knew exactly what was going on or the whole ‘soul’ thing.

“My,” A light voice cooed from the shadows, causing you to jerk your head up. Your ass still stung from the tumble you took after falling down into god knows where. You were curled up in a dark, moldy corner, a brief respite from all the freaks that you kept running into. Your fingers–no, claws?--still aches after defending yourself from a pair of spiked thugs.

“What a poor sight. How dreadful!” He continued. You could barely make out the form of the speaker. You just knew he was tall. With blazing red eyes. His voice had a radio-like filter over it, with a general low frequency humming around himself during the silence.

He had seen you, a new fallen demon, fight yourself away from those two earlier, a wild look in your eye. How it pleased him, seeing that look somebody gets when they are desperate for their life. But you, in particular, piqued his interest. To be able to acclimate to a new body, in a new place, and fight for your life at the drop of your hat.

You seemed capable, and he liked that. He knew you were naive, fresh meat always was. And he liked that.

You had yet to speak, only looking up at him from your fetal position. But he could tell you were tense and ready to spring, if need be. He played a grin on his face and leaned down closer to you.

“Oh, how rude of me! I’m Alastor,” He held his hand out to you from his bent over position. You shook his hand cautiously. “I saw that scuffle earlier, and dear if I may say, you fight like a wild tigress.”

You quirked your brow at this comment. “Thanks,” You replied plainly. “(Y/N).” You didn’t want to talk right now. But, you were at least glad to see a face that didn’t immediately go through your throat.

Alastor, of course, didn’t go after those of the ‘fairer means,’ as he would put it. At least, not in a violent way. He was all for the typical manipulation.

“Even still, a fair lady such as yourself needs someone to protect her! And,” He stood up straight again, a dangerous glint in your eye. “For a price, I could be at your beck and call.”

“A price..?” You responded weakly. You had to admit, seeing this tall, confident man in front of you did seem to put you at ease. He seemed kind. And it wouldn’t hurt to have some help, if there were more creatures wanting to attack you.

“Your soul!” He said, all too cheerfully. Your mouth dried up at this. With everything that has happened to you so far, you had a hunch that the term ‘soul’ actually carried meaning in this place. But, how much..? Was it worth the protection he promised?

“More like a mutual contract, really! Mutual benefactors!” Alastor lied, seeing that hesitance in your expression. “I get your soul, you do what I ask, and I protect you! Simple enough.”

The expression he held, with that tall grin of his, didn’t do much to calm your nerves. As chipper as he seemed, there was something to it. Something more, but you couldn’t quite tell.

“Deal?”

His glowing eyes seemed to darken as he squinted them in anticipation, his smile somehow growing wider. The static in the air seemed to crackle with more energy, almost violently, as you considered his hand that he had held out. There was an ominous aura that made your skin crawl.

Ah, what the hell. Flashes of those thugs from earlier was enough to put you on your feet. You could only imagine the other shit that lived in this place, and had a feeling they were the bottom of the barrel. You had only just managed to get away from them.

You made eye contact for a couple of seconds, the prickling sensation on your skin becoming harsher and more aggravating the closer you stepped to him. You grabbed his hand.

You were thinking about your unlucky situation–which you often did in your free time–as you gave yourself a onceover in the mirror, black eyes examining your tight outfit. A little spy getup–a little stereotypical, something you would definitely see in the movies. But, hey, it never failed you.

Thinking back, you could tell now that his words and smile were filled with deceit and manipulation. You often got pissed at yourself for how naive you were. You hadn’t even called on him once since then, and you’ve been stuck as his little pet for nearly four months now. He runs you around like a doll in a big playhouse, sending you this way and that to get intellect from his various enemies.

“I’m much too popular to be roaming in those areas!” He had claimed when you questioned why he, the Radio Demon, couldn’t just do it himself. “Demons flee at the sight of me. The Vee’s would see me from a mile away.” You had a suspicion that he just didn’t want to be seen in public making such a petty fuss over his television rival.

There was no point in dwelling on it, but you couldn’t help the occasional feeling of regret that twinged your chest when you thought too long. You were stuck as his, whether you liked it or not.

Slicking back your hair, you finalized your sleek outfit. Another day of being thrown into precarious situations by that red asshole. It was becoming a weekly thing, with Alastor requesting more and more information, especially from those Vee’s he hated so much. In fact, now that you thought about it, they were the only demons you snuck by. How obsessed they were with each other.

It was no easy task, getting through the security of that place. In fact, it was nearly impossible, seemingly getting harder every time. You had a cautious feeling that they knew what you were up to, and kept falling short of catching or stopping you. There were cameras pointed in every direction, every angle, in the highest quality imaginable. Every trip left your heart racing with adrenaline.

“On your way now, are you?” Alastor asked coyly. He waited for you at the entrance to the hotel, a glint in his eyes. Oh, how he loved playing with you like this. Watching you bend and break for him. He loved it. And you hated him for it.

“Yeah. Maybe I’ll get killed this time,” You said snidely, referencing the increasing danger of each trip. “Wouldn’t that be a treat for me.” You said this in a whisper, but Alastor still heard.

He bent at the waist to be eye level with you, that sinister grin of his lowering slightly. It seemed he had wanted to say something, his teeth parting for a moment before closing again. His grin perked back up and he straightened himself into a stand. He simply reached out and patted your head.

“Now, don’t go out with that kind of mindset! Why, you know our deal!” His lips curled in reference to the rather one-sided promise you made each other. To be honest, considering you never had to call for Alastor’s aid, you weren’t even comforted by the notion. Who’s to say he even shows up? How will he even know if you need help?

Alastor stepped towards you, his hands flapping as he shooed you out of the door. “The night is only so long! Go along!”

So, now you’re here. Tucked behind a corner near the Vee’s residence. There were cameras everywhere, obviously, and you swore you saw more than last time. What point does Alastor even have, making you come here so often? What more could he want? You knew him and Vox were rivals, but it wasn’t like Alastor didn’t know how to take care of the TV-head.

You had a sick feeling that Alastor just enjoyed making you do bullshit for him like this, and didn’t care much for the actual information. The thought drew a sneer on your face. If you weren’t literally soul bound to this guy, you would probably just let yourself get caught and likely killed on the spot. But, of course, your deal made that dream impossible.

With a couple hops on your toes, you began your brisk walk towards the back of the manor. You were hyper aware of all the cameras, and hoped that your dark outfit helped blend with the shadows.

However, the second you lifted a window and stepped foot into the building, lights flashed and an alarm rang. Fuck.

The television demon himself got to you surprisingly fast. As if he had been waiting. Which, honestly, wouldn’t have surprised you. You briefly wondered why it took them so long to have an alarm system in the first place, and began frantically looking for a way out. The window behind you had shut and locked. The hallway was incredibly narrow and Vox stood in the way.

Fuck it, you made a mad dash for the Overlord, hoping to catch him off guard. You raised a clawed hand and swiped at his television head. A pointless attack, you realize, as the screen nearly flickered for a moment; his wide, pixelated grin staring into you. Before you could move again, his arm tightly gripped at your throat. You felt an electrifying sensation, stinging through every nerve, and blacked out.

“Heyy, Al?” Charlie’s voice rang through the doorway of Alastor’s radio tower. “Have you seen (Y/N)..? She was supposed to help with some decorations.” She had opened the door without warning.

He paced back and forth in thought, gripping the top of his cane with one hand and tapping the end of it in his other. He didn’t respond to Charlie, but the question did ring in his head over and over. You hadn’t come back from the night before. You always came back before the day broke.

He didn’t know the feeling that stirred in his chest as he watched the minutes pass by. The hours pass by. All without a sight of you. He never thought to keep watch as you worked, refraining from sending his shadow to spy on the spy, as he always saw you as capable enough.

Besides, he thought to himself. What a waste of my time that would be. Fretting over a single demon.

“Alastor,” Charlie said again. He craned his neck to her, stopping his train of thought. His grin had a strain to it and his nose wrinkled in aggravation. Why was she in his space? He hated intrusions.

“What?” He said bluntly.

“(Y/N)?” She spoke your name again, hoping to prompt some conversation out of the Radio demon with the implied question.

Alastor composed himself, acting unphased by the… worry? That he felt. “Why would I know where she is? I take care of this hotel, but not so much the residents.” It was a true enough statement, as he preferred just watching the demons Charlie try desperately to rehabilitate and fail miserably every day.

“Now, if you don’t mind,” He interrupted Charlie before she could say anything, her mouth hanging open and words dying on her tongue. He briskly turned on his feet and walked towards her, standing at the doorway. “I would prefer you knock next time.” He shut the door on her.

He couldn’t handle the heavy feeling that threatened his lungs as he thought about what was happening at the Vee’s residence.

Did he really care to go out, risk a scene, risk the intel, just to get you? To make sure you were okay?

Yeah. He had to. He hated that feeling in his chest, especially as it just grew heavier and more overwhelming. He just chalked it up to the deal he had made with you putting a pressure on his own soul to hurry up and deal with it. But he couldn’t help the tightness that consumed him when he thought about what you were doing in that place. Or what they were doing to you. He brushed the emotion aside, trying his best to ignore it.

He argued with himself that yeah, he was only going because of that deal he had made. No, no way did he have a soft spot for you. No way in Hell. He was just doing this to hold up his deal. Yeah.

With a heavy sigh and a twitch at the corners of his lips, he brushed his talon-like fingers through the fringe of his hair, pushing it back before letting it fall into place again. He tried to maintain a leisurely composure, but a wild glint in his eye was proof enough that he was stressed out.

Best to get this over with. He had a deal to uphold. He opted for the faster route, melting into his shadow.

part ii part iii

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #tw: kidnapping #kidnapping #alastor doesnt realize he Feels stuff

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grison-in-space · 11 months

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also, hot take, but speaking as someone who has volunteered to work on big projects tackling difficult issues out of community love in the past, I am just. is the otw probably a really toxic place to volunteer and work right now? Sure is, probably! Is public pressure that doesn't come with an influx of new people volunteering to do the messy work of figuring out what a better policy is, how to create anti harassment safeguards, and otherwise fixing the problem actually useful? Fuck no it is definitely not!

like I will be 1000% honest, I have in fact been asked personally to volunteer to help a community transition on a much smaller scale to fix problems of this magnitude to encourage a much smaller scale organization to work and perform a community service. and I took that job with a strong sense of "ye gods this is going to suck and I'm going to piss people off by doing things wildly imperfectly, but if I don't help provide my work it might not get done because this is fucking hard and no one is paying."

and I did it and I stopped as quickly as humanly possible. now that shit is someone else's volunteer problem and I'm delighted, because let us be real I'm a disabled middle aged lady with a day job and I don't have full time professional effort to dedicate to stuff I do in my spare time for free. that's one of the fun things about disability actually, it constricts the total store of focused labor hours available to me to put in, especially on landmine topics like extending the scope of my archiving projects to create a farsighted anti harassment policy that can't be weaponized.

so like. the work needs doing. anything anyone does is going to be imperfect and problematic and bad, because it is being done on an almost purely volunteer basis by people who are for whatever reason willing to donate high level professional skills and labor for free and don't need to do stuff for actual money and support instead. like sure the budget is enormous for servers but none of that goes to labor.

Outrage is going to do jack shit unless people volunteer to roll up their sleeves and start doing the work to donate a better policy, or better management. This shit is fucking difficult, exhausting, and impossible to do without pissing people off. I am damn sure not getting involved right now, and that's why I have not been commenting. Public pressure is not going to do jack shit if it didn't come with support.

If this is an issue that is important to you, you have to back up your outrage with resources. Since the AO3 does not exchange money for labor, that means showing up to offer to help build something different. as I said, I am a middle aged disabled lady who finds fandom and archive repositories to be important and helpful and I don't have any labor left to donate, so I have been reserving comment on complaint. If this is a thing that matters to you, congratulations! Public pressure is only useful insofar as it can be used to make the org let you help. It's up to you to actually help.

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agirlcandream84 · 2 months

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Neighbor!Frank Giving Daddy Vibes When He Offers To Help You

This isn't smut but it also isn't fluff but it is comfort but also hot? Like listen, I want Frank to step in and make.things.better. And you know he would.

Frank Castle x Reader

Word Count: 1,732 (~6 min read)

You felt like an idiot, sobbing on your living room floor over a damn futon. It wasn't even the futon, really, it was the colossal mess that acquiring the futon created. As a single girl, you should have guessed Facebook Marketplace was a sketchy place to buy your furniture but you were broke and desperate.

You'd been in your new apartment for a month and your living room was still an empty box with some pillows on the ground as a sad replacement for a couch. You saw the listing for a futon for $50, including delivery, on Marketplace and jumped on the offer. The guy had seemed nice enough and you arranged a time for drop-off on the front stoop of your building but the man pulled up in his truck with a hunk of dissembled futon parts instead of the assembled futon in the picture. Your heart sank instantly and you told him you didn't have the tools to assemble the futon.

"Not my problem," was all he grumbled as he opened his truck bed and started unloading the parts onto the sidewalk, clanging with every toss.

"Please, I'm sorry, I can't take this. I don't have any way to assemble it," you shout over the rattle of the pieces amassing on the sidewalk. He ignores you and continues to unload until the last scrap is cleared from his truck.

"I'm not paying for this," you tell him indignantly. "This isn't what the picture looked like."

He spits on the sidewalk as he strides over to you, grabbing your wrist roughly and yanking the $50 from your hand and mumbles, "Yes you fucking are."

As he drives away you contemplate just leaving the pieces there but your landlord has security cameras and the problem will circle back to you quickly enough. And so, after 30 mins of hauling parts up four flights of stairs and nearly two hours of attempting to assemble the futon using god knows what tools you had lying around the apartment you find yourself in heaving sobs on your living room floor.

The sharp rap at your door snaps you out of your spiral as you mumble a faint, "hello?" towards the door.

The voice on the other said says "Hey, uh, it's me. It's Frank." Frank kept to himself but you had both settled into a kind rhythm with each other. You occasionally dropped off your leftovers (he didn't seem like the type to cook much for himself) and he'd occasionally help take your trash out to the dumpsters or made sure your windows had working locks.

He wasn't one to talk much, usually just ringing your bell and grumbling something before lending a hand, and you assume it's by design. The thing is, you worried about Frank. Though he'd never say anything about it, you saw the way bruises would occasionally bloom across his face. Or the way he'd limp back to his unit down the hall. Sometimes he seemed to be gone for days on end. But despite all signs screaming, DANGEROUS MAN, you trusted Frank and he always treated you nicely. His presence was a comport even, if he did seem to attract danger.

"Oh, uh, coming," you mumble as you weave through the maze of futons parts scattered across your floor and quickly the wipe the tears from your cheeks. You open the door to find Frank leaning with his raised forearm against the doorframe, his hulking form above you, and his eyebrows furrowed.

"Hey Frank, everything ok?" you ask, eyes cast upward toward him, door only cracked a little to conceal the mess you were currently in.

"Came to ask you that question," he responds, chin jutting up to indicate your direction. "Thought maybe I heard some cryin' in there," he adds.

Shame flushes your face and radiates through your body. You weren't above asking for help when you needed it but to be caught in the middle of your mental breakdown was another humiliation entirely.

"Oh god, I'm so sorry. I didn't realize you could hear. I hope I didn't bother you. I'm so sorry," you rush out, your cheeks a vibrant pink.

"Hey, no no," he stops you, those brows furrowing, "don't apologize. Jeez sweetheart, I came to see if you're ok. Somethin' I can help with?"

You couldn't decide if it felt infinitely more embarrassing to accept Frank's help or if it was a tremendous relief.

"Well, I don't know. It's this.." you trail off, motioning to the room he can't see.

"Let me see, a'right?" he offers gently, "Can you open the door a bit for me?" he asks, his hand landing on the knob. You nod and step back, making room for Frank to enter.

"It was a Facebook Marketplace thing... the guy was a jerk," you start and describe what transpired. Frank appears to be growing more agitated at the story continues, his arms crossed across his chest and big breaths huffing out through his crooked nose.

"fuckin' prick," he mumbles under his breath when you finish as he squats to the floor to inspect the task. "These are the only tools you got honey?" he asks gently, not meaning to embarrass. After nodding your head yes he replies, "Yeah, no wonder you were frustrated. This is a nightmare. I'm gonna get my toolbox and I'm coming straight back, ok sweetheart?"

You nod your head again and he's gone for a moment to his own unit. You will yourself to take a few deep breaths to not only wash away the last of the tears but to calm your nerves. Frank always made you nervous. It was that energy of his -- always in charge-- it was simultaneously immensely comforting and slightly frightening.

You hear his footsteps approach from the hall as he calls "S'me honey," so you wouldn't be frightened. He enters with his toolbox at his side and crouches low to get to work on building.

"Are you sure about this Frank? It's so much work, I know it's a pain," you ramble, twisting your fingers in knots, your embodiment of anxiety. You know he's capable but the man probably had other plans for his afternoon.

His eyes land on your twisted fingers as he replies "Happy to do it, alright? I gotcha," and you relax just a bit. After getting him a glass of water you decide to busy yourself in the kitchen, washing last night's dishes and tidying up. After 30 mins of work, he's nearly complete.

"Hey sweetheart," he shouts into the kitchen, "can you do something for me?"

"Yeah, of course," you reply entering the living and tossing the dish towel aside, "how can I help?"

"Alright, you see this piece here," he says pointing at a bent metal bar that wasn't aligned to the screw hole, "that asshole mangled this piece when he disassembled it so we gotta force back in place. Need you to screw it in here when I start bending it back alright?" he asks as he indicates to the screw hole. You nod in understanding as he hands you the manual screw driver. He places his hands on your hips and says gently, "need you stand here honey," to guide you to stand directly in front of him, the futon in front of you. He feel heat flame your cheeks and thank god Frank is facing the back of your head.

Frank engulfs your form, his chin hovering over your right shoulder as his arms reach around either side of you to land on the bent metal bar. You hear the comforting rhythm of his breath in your ear and squeeze your eyes shut a moment to shake the heat rising in your cheeks. He steps forward an inch to get the right leverage on the bar, his broad chest grazing your back.

"this, uh, this ok?" he mumbles in the shell of your ear, his voice soft and rumbly, confirming your comfort and managing to raise the temperature in the room by about 50 degrees. You can't manage an audible yes but you nod instead. With that, you feel him lean closer, a grunt escaping his lips as he forces the bent bar back into place. You watch as his broad hands grip the cool metal, the ropes in his forearms taut as he bends it back to shape. As the holes line up, you begin screwing as fast as you can, securing the bar in place.

He pants as he releases the effort, an "attagirl" tumbling from his lips as his calloused hand wraps around yours, making the last, hardest 90 degree turn to tighten the screw in place. "Practically built the thing yourself," he teases, releasing your hand.

"I can't thank you enough," you start, turning to face him, his face now only inches from yours, the expanse of his shoulders nearly consuming the room. "I.. uh I..." you mumble, the rest of the thought terminated as you stand close enough to smell the mossy freshness of his deodorant.

"Yeah, hey, like I said, happy to help," he responds, one landing landing on your upper arm and squeezing gently before grazing down to let go. He adds after a beat, "Listen, you talk to me about it next time sweetheart, yeah? I’ll take care of it. Don't go gettin’ in a mess like that," his brown eyes nearly boring into yours.

"What do you mean... take care of it?" you ask, nearly a whisper, tiptoeing over a boundary you weren't sure you wanted to know more about. What was Frank's definition of "taking care of" something and why did you think it involved more bruises? Or worse.

His eyes flick away for a moment before finding yours again. "Yeah, that's nothin' you need to worry about honey," he responds, more breath than voice, and you had decided you didn't prefer to know any more.

After a few minutes collecting and packing his tools, Frank made his way to the door and you followed him behind, thanking him again for the help.

"Yeah, it's no problem. Let me take care of you sometimes, yeah?" he replies, leaning in to kiss your cheek, his hand landing softly on your opposite cheek for only a moment, before turning to walk towards his unit, leaving you with a new problem: were you in love with Frank?

#frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #frank castle x you #frank castle fanfic #frank castle smut #frank castle x y/n #frank castle fluff #frank castle comfort

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ma1dita · 3 months

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feed the fire

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader

words: 1.2k

summary: (pre-established relationship) The one where his focus is not on spilled food, but on you. The fight never ends, but food service does, and well, you’re pretty when you’re mad. Lucky for you, your dad doesn’t really need offerings. Lucky for Luke, you’re in a sharing mood. Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader

a/n: Chiron isn’t gonna bet his kids against each other he on the side of love wym -.- (unbeta'd and purely made by caffeine)

(posted 1/22/24)

—

“If that was your definition of fun Castellan, you are most possibly the worst person alive,” you grumble, bumping past Luke in the dinner line. The weight of his plate is as heavy as his stare, eyes following you as you turn to look at him and he knows you’re pissed after his team won capture the flag.

Again.

After years at Camp Half-Blood and years of arguing with you, everything gets a bit repetitive. But he can’t help but bite back a grin at this routine you two have created—it’s never boring when you’re around. You get as close as you can to his large frame, nose turned up for another face-off and he shouldn’t find your anger…so attractive. He shouldn’t be so interested in someone who looks like they’re about to wring his neck. However, Luke eats up the attention from you like he’s starving and wanting seconds, so he eggs you on just to see how this turns out.

“But a damn good demigod right? You’re just a sore loser, trouble. Gonna have to do better than that to impress me,” Luke jabs at you, holding his tray in one hand. His grin gets impossibly bigger once his half-siblings rumble with laughter behind him, and the frown on your face deepens.

Where you two are involved, there’s always a spectacle. Rumors of campers placing bets and keeping score to the point of updating Mr. D with the count of who comes up on top each time you two argue. He’s past the point of assigning you two extra chores and taking away leisure time since you’re much older now (and essentially run the camp for him), so the god has resigned himself to placing bets with the kids (without Chiron knowing). But every week after capture the flag, Luke unknowingly bumps up several points just by existing. It’s damaging Mr. D’s stakes so much that he might have to bet against you, his own child, next time. Plus, there’s something about Luke that always riles you up.

“Who said I was impressing you?” You scoff, blocking him from walking to his table and he looks down at you (both figuratively and literally) with a raised eyebrow.

“I don’t know, with the way you won’t let it go, some people might think you’re obsessed with me, sweetheart. Can’t blame you, though.” Luke’s words slip through his lips like water, and this time he’s unable to place what the expression on your face means as you stare back at him blankly with your fists clenched.

The only thing he’s able to perceive as a warning is the twitch of your eye before you’re on him, climbing him like a tree as you slam into him, knocking him to the ground and screaming, “YOU’RE SO FULL OF IT, CASTELLAN!”

Luke braces for impact as your hands are flying at him though there’s no intent to cause injury—he’s felt your right hook before and it took the air out of his lungs. This, was just you being petty, hands slapping him across the head and chest before you pulled him in by the front of his shirt, and then…it was over before it even started.

“DAUGHTER! What do you think you’re doing?” Mr. D’s voice rings across the dining pavilion and your eyes meet Luke’s as you both remember where you are.

On his lap, with everyone watching.

Air escapes him again as he feels the weight of your hips against his hands and he doesn’t quite remember when he moved them there, or when in all of these arguments he’s stopped fighting back.

But was it ever really a fight, Luke wonders looking up at you, not even hearing anything coming out of Mr. D’s mouth right now. Your hair is framing your face and the harsh overhead lighting in the dining pavilion surrounds you like a halo. You look like you’ve been blessed by Aphrodite herself, ethereal and strong… and a new funny feeling in his chest makes him suddenly unsure of everything you two have ever done together. This isn’t part of the routine.

Shit.

He’s in trouble.

The fist in his shirt loosens and he falls hard, head bumping against the hardwood floor. Luke can see his tray facedown on the ground, the grapes and his dinner roll bouncing away underneath the tables.

“He did it,” you blurt out like a kid caught with their hands in the cookie jar. You can feel Luke’s chest rumble with laughter under your fingertips and you push up off of him, extending a hand to help him up. Your dad is gesturing at you to clean the mess, but by the time you finish your angry gestures and eye rolls to turn towards the utility closet, Luke’s already back and sweeping up the fallen food without any complaints.

“You know, for the strongest swordsman in 300 years, I took you down pretty easy, huh, Luke?” You say cheesily, bumping his shoulder as he chuckles.

“You just caught me off guard—throwing yourself at me like a deranged satyr.”

“Oh because you’re a dainty nymph in distress,” you bite back, walking away to get dinner.

By the time he’s done cleaning up the mess, food service is over. He scratches the back of his neck and goes to sit next to Chris, who’s wolfed down most of his meal already, but to his surprise, you’re sitting in his usual seat with a plate piled high enough for two and some extra prayers.

“You here to rub it in? Gonna have to eat air for dinner because of you.” He falls onto the bench, leaning on his hand as he gazes at you with a slow smile, and then watches you brandish two forks in the air.

“I’ll gouge your eye with a fork if you don’t start eating.”

Your knees are touching under the table and his hand slightly shakes as he pulls the utensil from your fingers.

“Sometimes I think I like it better when you’re mean to me,” he jokes but takes a hefty bite of pasta anyway.

“You love it.”

He can’t help but agree.

—

Clarisse walks over to Mr. D who’s watching you two from across the dining pavilion with an emotion akin to confusion and possibly disgust. You’re both laughing at something indiscernible to everyone else around you, together, not at each other…and it’s unsettling. The daughter of Ares stands in front of the Olympian with her palm extended.

“Pay up. Luke clearly won again.”

Mr. D’s eye twitches as he holds onto his drachmas. He was supposed to be entertained by this, not be the entertainment.

“Did he though? They both look like they’ve tamed down. This is starting to get boring.”

A hand comes out of nowhere, snatching the drachmas out of the god’s hand, and Clarisse’s eyes widen at Chiron, who’s been behind them all along.

“I’ll take that. Don’t think either of them are gonna win this in the end.”

The three of them watch Luke say something to you with a mischievous grin and you gape at him as you shove a bread roll into his mouth angrily.

Mr. D tuts and it catches your attention, your middle finger directed at him as you push the rest of your plate towards Luke.

“What, no offerings for your dear father?” He calls out disgruntled by your audacity.

“You clearly eat enough, D!”

Luke elbows you as he laughs behind his bread roll, and Chiron smiles, knowing what’s forming between you two, even if you both don’t see it quite yet.

—

“There’s something between us; a sort of pull. Something you always do to me, and I to you.” F. Scott Fitzgerald

ask to be added to the general/luke taglist! 🥹

luke taglist (some won't let me tag, turn on my post notifs?): @kissingyourgrl @dorcas4meadowes @lorarri @andrewgarfldsgf @noodlesketchbook @10ava01 @poppysrin @ashisabitgay @timhalamet @liv1104 @leeknows-wife @mxtokko @bugcuti3 @luvvfromme @midmourn @2hiigh2cry @yuminako @niktwazny303 @lukecastellandefender @intergalactic-padawan @iliketopgun @annybah @dangelnleif @thegrinningghost @alyssajunelle @obxstiles @m00ng4z3r @visndcaitswhore @b0ok-lover @elegant-face-tree @this-barbie-is-having-breakdowns @amortencjja @idonevenknow1359 @maliaaaa @targaryenluvs @sakyira @dhdjdjjdhsjdiri @number-onekidqueen @nininehaaa @bradynoonswife @stevenknightmarc @hoodedhavok @happy-mushrooms @homebyeleven @anotherblackreader @too-deviant @liviessun @lilacspider @theadventuresofanartist @sucker4seresin @simpforsunwoo @zanzie @starrystormwritings

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x dionysus!reader #pjo x reader #pjo show imagine #luke castellan x reader fanfic #luke castellan fluff #made by ma1dita ♥︎#trouble!verse #thank you for reading my love ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

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jgmartin · 9 months

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i don't know who needs to hear this, but 'perfect' writing is a trap. all writing is subjective. what we create today, we may see as flawed tomorrow. what we see as flawed today, we may see as perfect tomorrow.

writing is the act of transmuting the human experience through words. and the human experience? it's a messy, chaotic thing filled with rough edges and uneven lines and mistakes and failures. you can erase all of that. you can. but then you're left with something sterile and artificial. you've effectively squeezed the soul out of your work, and i can think of nothing less appealing.

this isn't to say don't edit your work. please do. but keep it within reason, and make sure you're moving forward and not backward. momentum is key.

don't sit on an idea for three decades waiting for that dance with inspiration, or that dynamite first line, or that eureka plot twist, or the words to flow like magic from your fingertips. because it won't happen. and if it does, it'll strike like lightning and disappear twice as fast. the only surefire way to finish a story is to start.

so write. for the love of god, just write.

along the way, things will fall in line. i promise. and if they don't? then they already have. the magic of art is that everything we create is a snapshot of who we are at the time of creation. it's like a time capsule of human experience, and there's a beauty in that authenticity-- in the mistakes we make and the wrong turns we take. don't run from them. embrace them.

let their lessons flow through you and channel them into something tangible. if it's hard, then start with one word and keep going. don't erase it. don't start over. don't let yourself believe your story isn't worth telling because if you don't tell it, then no one else will. and that'd be a damn shame.

so one word a day. one sentence a week.

whatever it takes.

it might be tough letting go of the idea of perfect. silencing your inner editor. your inner critic. it might be tough realizing that your story will never meet your standards, not completely, but it won't be half as tough as looking back and wondering where all the days, weeks, and years went; that in the pursuit of perfection, you forgot to ever write a story at all.

so leave perfect behind. readers don't want it. why would they? they can't possibly relate to perfect-- none of us can.

instead, give readers a window to your imagination, stormclouds and all. you'll be surprised by how many stick around for the rain, how many relish the sound of your thunder, and how many cherish the worlds that only you could bring to life.

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wutheringcaterpillar · 7 months

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Take Your Medicine Sweetheart.

Summary: Going behind Tommy's back you decide to terminate your pregnancy as you did not want to raise a child around him or around the company he keeps. When Tommy finds out he ensures that you will be pregnant, and you will carry to term, on his terms.

Warnings: Noncon, very Dark!Tommy, blood play, gun play, p in v, anal sex, physical abuse, Tommy is very OOC, misogyny, abortion, breeding, forced pregnancy, forced marriage.

GIF credit: thesoldiersminute

This is a very dark fic, please don't read if any of the warnings are triggers for you.

“Darling, are you alright? You look rather pale?” Your surroundings began to spin, and it looked as if there were three of Tommy. Something wasn’t right.

“I-I- think someone put something in my- my-“

The last thing you remembered before your eyes closed was Tommy’s hand on your thigh while he looked at you in satisfaction with a sadistic smile.

When you awoke Tommy was standing before you shirtless at the end of the bed, cigarette hanging from his plush lips.

“Good morning sunshine, how you feeling?” Your head was pounding as fear entered your body at the sight of your intimidating husband Tommy paced the room, letting you gather yourself.

“All you had to do was follow my orders, eh? But you couldn’t do that. Instead you thought it would be a grand idea to go behind my back and dispose of our child.” A lump began to form in your throat.

How did he know?

Who told him?

“I have eyes and ears everywhere I know your every move Y/N. The perks of my reputation in Birmingham, people crawl on their hands and needs to please me, you know that more than anyone. Whether you like to or not is not of my concern. You’re my wife. Nonetheless Y/N.” He aimed his cigarette at you.

“Nonetheless. You have duties that you will learn to bare.” His eyebrows etched together, yet he hasn’t broken eye contact with you once.

Placing his cigarette down in an ashtray on the dresser, he settled his hands on the soft, delicate mattress. He leaned in so he was directly in front of our face.

Pressing your lips together firmly, trying to hold back tears, you attempted to look in a different direction, anywhere but him.

“You are going to bare my fucking child. If you even think to attempt this little stunt again. I will put you in chains to this god damn bed until you give birth.” In a quick fight or flight moment you jumped up off the bed and ran for your life to get out of this house.

Tommy chuckled darkly to himself, he always loves a challenge, and you hadn’t known of the little side medication he put in your tea this morning. Once you reached the stairs, your head started to feel like it was going to explode from how fast and hard it was pounding.

All energy in you seemed to evaporate, making you almost drop to your knees at the top of the stairs.

The floors creaked behind you, he took his time approaching you as if you were his prey and he wanted to see how far you could get. The sight of you so weak and fragile, sent Tommy into overdrive.

You were his little play toy that he could use however he please. Leaning down behind you, you felt his jaw rest right in the crook of your neck. His frigid skin against yours almost felt soothing to how much you were sweating and out of breath.

“If you want to play games my love, I can play games.” All of a sudden you felt his foot kick into your back, sending you dwindling down the hardwood steps, taking the breath out of you.

Once at the bottom, you managed to turn yourself around so that you were facing the steps but your foot felt like every bone was shattered within.

Tommy stood at the top of the staircase, the moonlight peeling in through the windows behind him, creating a menacing, dark silhouette. “You’re only making things harder for yourself my love.” He paced down the stairs slowly toward you. “If you had just complied with what I wanted we wouldn’t be here now would we?”

In a fast motion, his hand was gripping your delicate hair, causing you to yelp out in pain. As you kicked and screamed, he slammed your head into the ground. All movement in you froze when the sound of a gun cocking echoed throughout the house, as though it seemed to your ears.

“Tommy- please-please don’t do this.”

“Do I have your attention now sweetheart?” You stayed silent.

His free hand slid up your dress, revealing your bloodied underwear. The feeling of guilt and shame washing over you like a hurricane. The sight of it made Tommy’s anger rise.

With a swift movement of his hand the fabric of your underwear and your delicate folds underneath Thomas grabbed between his fingers, twisting them and pinching them while you screamed. “You feel that, eh! This is fucking mine. Your body and what you do with it. My decision.” His grip tightened, sending a burning sensation running through your stomach, he tugged at it over and over.

“Do we fucking understand that, you little fucking whore!”

“Yes! Yes! I understand! All yours Tommy.” He released his grip, and tugged down your panties. The blood was still oozing out of you, slowly starting to create a puddle on the floor. He tossed the gun to the side. The sound of his belt unbuckling came from behind you. You couldn’t stop the tears as they were still continuously falling.

“I’m gonna fucking breed you over and over again, until I’m satisfied and think you’ve learnt your lesson.” You were too weak to fight. Tommy was too strong compared to you, you didn’t stand a chance. Without any warning he plunged his length into, taking your breath away.

The thickness, and length of Thomas was too overwhelming, it often hurt but would start to feel pleasurable and it made you sick to give him the idea that this is what you want.

Vigorously he slammed his lengthy, thick member into you over and over again, while his nails dug into your hips.

You could feel his balls, slapping against your pussy while his length stretched out your tight walls.

Involuntarily your soaked insides were clenching around his dick, making him grin behind you. “You like this you little fucking whore. Like when I fuck your cunt.”

He flipped you over onto your back. He was towering over you, biting his bottom lip. Your pussy was throbbing, as he continued his pace. He filled your sexual needs in ways you’d never felt before, his length, his experience. He knew just all the right places to hit and you hated it.

Grabbing your chin, he forced you to look at all the blood, and more importantly he wanted you to see how much you cum for him, how much he satisfies that tight little hole of yours. It was a reminder you weren’t going to get this anywhere else.

Your stomach began to twist and you were having an internal warfare in your mind.

How could someone that you find so disgusting, so frightened of, make you feel so good.

How can he do this to you every time.

He knew you hated him, knew you did not want to have sex with him, and he’d put you in these positions to where you’d be moaning for him, moaning his name against your own will.

Lapping his fingers under your dripping hole, he took his bloody fingers and shoved them in your mouth. “Suck.”

A wave of nausea washed through you that you could not hold back, turning your head your stomach dispensed of any remains it contained onto the floor.

Without a moment to think you felt two fingers enter your ass, the same ones he had just put in your mouth.

You writhed in pain on the floor, screaming in agony, cheeks red and tear stained.

Thomas stopped all movement aside from pumping his fingers in and out of your tight ass. Your inner walls we’re screaming at you to stop this. Your ass was stinging, and felt like it was on fire.

“Ride me.” Blinking at him, you were trying to process what he just said, you felt like you were on the verge of passing out.

Gasping from the pain of his fingers working your ass relentlessly, you did as you were told to the best of your ability while you lay still on the ground.

You began to move your hips, doing all the work yourself. Taking his length thrust after thrust. Your walls were starting to clench around him, your pussy throbbing from the girth of him.

A wave of pleasure rode through you, your inner muscles starting to spasm just as the tip of his dick found that sweet spot.

You couldn’t help but close your flushed eyelids, while your breathing began to pick up, along with the movements of your hips.

“Atta girl.”

Tommy stared down, watching you take all of him begrudgingly, licking his lips in amusement as he could tell by your facial expressions your body was betraying you.

“Hate me so much look at you fucking me like there’s no tomorrow.”

Disgusted and ashamed was how you felt. Your own body was working against you, and you couldn't help it.

“Fuck you! You fucking piece of shit!” A stinging pain rushed through your cheek as he sent a powerful slap the side of your face.

“Tell me how you really feel Y/N, with my cock buried in you.” He wrapped his hand around your throat to quiet you as he continued to drill into you deeply and roughly. Causing your breasts to bounce intensely.

“Gonna cum in you and make you nice and full again.” You shook your head back and forth in disgust.

His movements sped up more than you thought possible. Involuntarily, you felt your pussy getting more wet with every time he rammed into your sweetness. You tightened around his rather large member, and you could tell he was close as well by the way he was moaning and the way his thighs twitched against your, bruised skin.

“Let me go Tommy, just- just pull out and we can talk about it!”

Your voice was shaky and hoarse, you did not want to bring a child up in this environment, nor did you think Tommy would be a suitable father just by the way he treated you.

Ignoring your pleas, pleasure rose through his body, his stomach tightening up as the mixture of how wet you are and how much you were tightening around him took over every thought in his body.

Pinning your wrists down, he thrusted into you three more times before you felt his warm liquid ooze into you while his moans became more heavy.

You made it through, you did your job and got him off, now you wanted him off of you and to be left alone.

“I’m not finished with you yet. Now it’s time for your punishment my sweet Y/N.” Tommy placed his hands on your hips and flipped you over onto your stomach, forcing your ass up in the air.

He was kind enough to spit onto his hand, but what came after that you weren’t ready for.

Placing the tip of his dick in front of your hole, he popped the tip into you, making every part of your body tense and clenching up.

Releasing a muffled whine from the sudden intrusion, you had never felt more frozen than you did now. Panic set in, and you tried to wiggle your way out.

“Where do you think you are going to go?” To ensure that you’d stay put, without any hesitation or warning, he pushed the rest of his length into your uncomplying, inexperienced hole.

Your screams filled the house as your ass was being stretched in a way that you wasn't imaginable, it felt like he was tearing your skin a part little by little. “Stop! Stop! Pl-please just stop!”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that until I think you’ve learnt your lesson.” Nails scratching at the wooden floors, you seized for this to be over. Tommy placed his hands on both your ass cheeks as they bounced up and down and watched as he forced all of his length in your small hole. Stretching it beyond belief.

Your blood painted his dick and balls a dark cherry red and now he was going to paint your insides that color. “Fuck, such a filthy little whore, taking my dick in your ass.”

Tommy ignored your sobs and continued to drive into you, the girth of his dick feeling like it was obliterating you inside and out.

It felt like the sensitive walls in your ass were being sliced open as Tommy continued to slam his dick into your tight used ass over and over again, until eventually you felt him release himself one more time, covering your insides with his warm seed.

He collapsed onto you, still buried deep within you. Combing back his hair, he was trying to catch his breath. You were a broken woman, the pain swayed within every part of you.

Giving you a light smack on your cheek, he stood up, picking his pants up off the floor, looking down at your fucked out, used body that he claimed as his own. “Let this serve as a reminder. You’re my property Y/N. That’s never gonna change my love.”

The last thing your dreary eyes saw was the wooden clock on the wall, time passing ever so slowly as the pain began to be too much. Your eyes drifted off as you went unconscious on the bloodied floor.

When you awoke, Thomas was at your bedside with the doctor. He informed her that you had, had a miscarriage and wanted to try again, but maybe it was too much too soon for you. “Mrs Shelby, I’m going to be your doctor and this is your nurse. Mr. Shelby has informed me of what’s been going on. The good news is, at this stage even with the miscarriage, if you two have started trying, you are still very fertile from the time that Mr. Shelby told me you had the miscarriage. I-“

“Thomas. Please call me Thomas.” The doctor nodded and smiled, You could tell she was blushing.

Nausea fulfilled you, and your eyes felt heavy.

“It also appears that your ankle, is sprained, Thomas informed me you took a stumble down the stairs. That may have been what have brought on the miscarriage, so we also prescribed you with pain relief medication, and wrapped it up for you.”

You had no one, Thomas charmed his way into every woman, and every man was too much of a coward and frightened of him to do anything to help you. You were certain he did not tell them about anything other than that you had a supposed miscarriage and sprained ankle.

“Now, Mrs Shelby? We’re going to send you home with estrogen pills, that should help with conceiving. Just maybe next time, take it easy, take it slow, and don’t overwork yourself. If you follow all that you should be okay.” You thanked her sarcastically as she exited the room.

Without your consent Thomas helped you change for you to go home. The weather was cold, as the wind blew the autumn leaves around the dying grass.

Thomas was by your side, arm wrapped around your waist walking you out. He didn’t want you to fall, as he knew you were very well still in recovery from the following night.

He was very precautious with you once you were “home”, and you had no energy to fight him anymore.

He drew a hot bath for you and placed a set of towels on the sink while Frances in the kitchen made you a small snack with tea and crackers to help you relax Tommy had assisted you in washing your hair, and cleaning your body, every part of it.

His touch sent shivers down your spine, but you knew it had to be this way. There was no escaping Thomas Shelby.

He tucked you into bed and told Frances to make sure you stay hydrated and eat while he works during the day and to inform him, if you want to go out, see a friend, even come downstairs.

Sliding into the bed next to you, he turned off the bedside lamp and pulled your aching body close to his side.

Regardless of what he did to you, the feeling of being held in warm, strong arms helped you fall asleep as comfortably as you possibly could.

The following morning Frances had made you a full course breakfast and tea, and had your pills placed in a cup next to a glass of juice. “Good morning my love.” Thomas walked into the room dressed in his black and white suit, and his shiny shoes with a smile plastered on his face that money couldn’t buy.

His hair was still wet from the shower he must’ve taken. He sat down in the seat next to you, placing a kiss to your soft lips.

Glancing down at the cup of medication there was a pill that wasn't one your doctor had prescribed. Your eyes began to water, and your hands started shaking.

You eyed the mysterious pill, wondering if that was the sedative he had put in your tea yesterday morning. You glanced up at Tommy, who was watching you intently with his empty, bright blue eyes.

“Do as the doctor instructed.” Tommy unfolded the newspaper taking a sip of his coffee before glancing over at you still staring at the cup. His jaw clenched as he eyed the cup, looking at you without any sign of remorse from last night.

“I need you to be relaxed for later when I breed you more. Take your medicine sweetheart.”

#tommy shelby imagine #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinder imagine #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby x reader #ranaewrites

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