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small-sinclair · 3 months

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Smut below. Never written smut so be nice—

Bo Sinclair x fem!reader

⚠️NSFW 18+ ONLY⚠️

Okay but—

Bo telling you how much he doesn’t deserve you, whispering it against you ear, as he thrusts hard and rough, tender and lustful, deep inside you. He knows he’s the worst and he knows he’s a monster; he doesn’t deserve you.

His rough hands by your head as he takes the pace painfully slow, rutting fast, then slow again. He kisses your neck then your shoulder. His heart hammers at your whimpers and moans. He doesn’t want to be near your, but he wants to be beside you. He can’t imagine himself without you in his life anymore.

“‘M no good, no good,” he breathes heavily as his pace quickens. His hands hold your wrists above your head as he angles himself to hit your g-spot better, the spot that makes you unravel like yarn. “God, you deserve better… so-so much better. To-fuck— to perfect for me.”

He watches your eyes roll back as you come close to your fourth or fifth climax, but he won’t stop because he’s too lost in his own need. Sometimes, he’s scared of himself when he’s lost like this because he doesn’t want to hurt you too bad, but the bruises he leaves behind on your thighs and kiss-stained mark on your neck does something to him.

His other hand roams up and down your body, feeling your chest and sides. Marble statues are jealous of you. He leans down and kisses hard and long, taking your lips in like it’s the last water in the world. He loves the way you call his name and kiss his skin. He goes faster and faster, lifting you up as he does and uses you as a fuck-toy. He holds your back and supports your head as he hears your pleas to slow down but he can’t, he won’t. His eyes burning with flames that were never blown out. He feels how you clinch and how you squirms as he chases his high.

“Never been good for your body. Never-never been good for your hands,” he grunted as he feels your hands around his neck for support. “Never been good for your love. No good for you! You’re too-too perfect. Too innocent and pure-pure for me.” His hips rolling into yours. “Fuckin’ perfect. Too perfect for me.” He bites your shoulder as he slams himself in you unapologetically. He tastes your blood and can feel your heart in his teeth and it makes his eyes roll. “I don’t deserve-deserve your fuckin’ pussy. Don’t deserve how tight it is— shit. I don’t deserve you.”

With one last hard thrust, he feels your walls clinch around him. He hears you moan out his name like a prayer to an elder god, but he doesn’t deserve it. He doesn’t deserve your voice saying his name like that.

He comes closer to you as he pushes his seed deep inside your body, feeling it mix with yours. Slowly, he lays your body back down into the mangled sheets and kisses the bite marks he left behind. He breathes deeply out and shivers when he breathes in. His callous hands run over your skin as he lets go of you. He doesn’t want your hands over him but he craves it like a drug.

“No… shit, no good for you,” he repeats as he rests his head against yours. “Someone’s better than me.” He leans into your hand and he marvel that if feels like the finest silk. “Fuck, I love you.”

He’ll slowly pull out once he feels your body relax into the blankets and pillows under you. Bo’s not one for aftercare, but his hands smooth your legs and sides, kissing the handprint bruise on your hips. And you see his body in the dim moonlight, and you can see his scars from the past and from the fights. You see how tired his eyes are and how much he’s love struck with you.

As he climbs out of bed, your hand catches his and he kisses your knocks before letting go. Hes right back with a cold wash rag and some lotion. He kisses your body tired until your numb from his love. He washes your body and sings praises to you, calling you his, calling you perfect, calling you darling. He lotions your legs, arms, and throat, and he’s being so gentle with you. When he’s done, you rust on his chest and trace his scars.

“…if you keep lovin’ me like this,” he says in a husky voice, “I’ll never let you go… never let you leave me.” He’ll look down at you then kiss your head. “Never leave me.”

You’re too tired to answer as you rest your head over his heart. You belong here in his arms and he’ll never let you go. Not for a second.

#house of wax #house of wax 2005 #bo sinclair #house of wax (2005)#house of wax fanfiction #house of wax fanfic #bo sinclair x reader #slasher x reader #bo sinclair house of wax #bo sinclair smut #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair imagine #bo sinclair fanfic #slasher x y/n #slasher smut #slasher fanfic

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uncouth-the-fifth · 13 days

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good morning, charlie - Leon Kennedy/Reader

read it on Ao3.

Pairing: Agent!Leon/Detective!Wife!Reader Tags: domestic fluff with the tiniest dustings of background angst, married life, hugging, kissing, and snuggling. Words: 3k (yes, I'm capable of keeping something this short) Notes: read this in a WWE announcer voice: THAT'S RIGHT! UNCOUTH HAS COME CRASHING BACK INTO THE RING AFTER YET ANOTHER MONTHS-LONG HIATUS. i'm magical, truly. here is the first Leon fic I promised last month! There's so much I want to say about this little drabble, but I'll save that for my curious ppl on Ao3. this is going to be a big 180 from my spn content, and I sincerely hope that's okay with the public 😭 for my RE people: enjoy domestic Leon bullshit!

At two in the morning, Washington D.C. is pouring everything it has into crafting the coziest atmosphere of all time. A pleasant window-tapping storm had rolled in right around when you resolved to stay up working. Some late-night radio host is making soft, fizzing chatter in the next room, and coupled with a stellar view of the city from fancy floor-to-ceiling windows, you have a prime opportunity to pass the fuck out.

Unfortunately, you have made some spectacular life choices that don’t mix well with a full night’s rest. Nope, no sleep for you. Despite all of fate’s attempts to stop you from being a cop, (including throwing a city-wide outbreak at you on your first day), you are still here, gripping your job with both hands. At two in the damn morning.

Since scrubbing your eyes hadn’t woken you up the first five times you tried it, you give it another shot as you pace the length of your living room rug—from the coffee table you’ve stacked with files, then back to the whiteboard pasted top-to-bottom with pictures of missing young women. The whiteboard had been Leon’s idea. After the fourth time you’d transformed a flattened cardboard box into a morbid case-board for work, he’d cajoled you into letting him buy one for the apartment.

But I won’t be able to stab the tacks into it, you’d pouted.

Oh, the agony, your husband had drawled. He was a master of delivering a good, dry look.

You’d propped your fists on your hips and tried your best to look serious. The red yarn connecting everything isn’t just a detective-movie thing, y’know! It’s actually really useful. And I need my tacks to stick the yarn in—

Leon had cut cleanly through your building sass with another look, this time one glimmering with humor. Then I’ll get you magnetic ones, detective. Don’t you use whiteboards at the precinct anyway?

You’d grumbled. Because, yes, you did use whiteboards at the station, and they did have the little tacks with the magnets on the bottom. But you’d refused to deal with Leon being all smug (he was unbearable pretty when he was right), and had teased back instead, Whatever, nerd. Why don’t you and the other two angels go call Charlie already?

The reference had gone clean over Leon’s head. Of course, he hated being left out of a joke, so he’d roped you over by your wrist and pinched an explanation out of you until you were squealing with giggles.

Summarizing Charlie’s Angels to Leon had been a lot like offering a paper rocketship to an aerospace engineer. But, hey, picturing him running around in skimpy outfits and escaping action movie explosions on a motorcycle is a whole lot more fun than… than the real deal.

You don’t want to think about what his missions are really like. Not that you’re even allowed to know in the first place. Being Leon’s wife permits you a government-issued phone with his handler’s number, and on antsy days you can push Ingrid for details if you want. But after so long you’ve learned it only hurts both of you—for her, in the inability to answer, and for you, in the excruciating pain of being unable to know. Where is he? That’s classified.

She can’t always tell you when he’s coming home, either. So much of your life is hinged on her check-ins, and even more is forced to live off a simple, He’s okay.

For the seventh time, you scrub at your tired eyes and suck in a deep breath. You’d gotten that fabled text from Hunnigan—he’s okay—earlier today, and like always you crawled through the rest of your shift roiling with anticipation, waiting for Leon to materialize back into your life.

You force your gaze back to the whiteboard, littered with notes and pictures hung up with magnetic tacks. The faces of five missing women bore back. The ten-ton weight of your caseload slams down in full, and again, you scold yourself for floating back into comforting memories of your husband. These girls have lost all comfort in the world since they were taken. Your Captain gave you the responsibility of finding them, and after all you’ve been through, after all the other cases you’ve closed, there can’t be any room for failure. Think.

Your legs ache from being on your feet all day, chasing leads, but dropping into Leon’s armchair for even an instant will just have you nodding off again. More pacing it is, then. This is your pattern for the next half-hour: pace, re-read witness statements, turn, sip your coffee, pace, cross-reference alibis. He’s okay. Two of the girls were taken from Queen’s Chapel, two from Takoma, one from Woodridge. He’s fine. The last victim breaks the profile. What’s different about her? Why take her? Think think think— You know what Leon would do. He was the kind of person you could put in front of a problem, and no matter what he would find a way to shoulder his way through. With physical force, sure, but mental force too. He would sit and just look at the puzzle, and sheer willpower would lead him to some kind of answer. But you’d been pushing and pushing for days now, pursuing every lead, pressing every witness, yet nothing will give. The whole thing feels like a punching bag you’re beating at over and over again, knuckles raw and bloody—

Keys rattle just outside the front door.

First the big deadbolt scrapes open, unlatching with a heavy thud, and that sound alone is enough to shock you awake. More than any coffee could. Then comes the doorknob. Leon hasn’t even turned his key before you’ve twisted the lock open, yanked the door out of your way, and sent it whipping into the jamb with his keyring still swinging from its slot. You give him one full blink to register that it’s you before you’re throwing yourself on him without a single lick of shame, legs and all.

Of course, Leon bears your weight with grace. He grunts out an oof! when you come in for landing, and the living, breathing sound drains into one gruff laugh. You’re scooped up under the thighs and teddy bear squeezed against him. He reeks of cheap motel soap and something faintly coppery—then mint, a whole world of plush, wet spearmint when he nudges your face up with his nose and lays a hello kiss on you. The taste of his gum and the scratch of his stubble on your chin make your skin feel like it’s fizzing, inside-burning-out, every inch of you stood on end by his static charge. Jesus, this guy. He feels like fucking magic, and you’re confident that the laws of physics don’t quite apply around him. Everything in the room, in the too-big apartment that’s painfully empty without him in it, tilts toward Leon.

You shove your face nose-first into his neck and clutch the back of his jacket in both fists. Swallowing hard, you manage, “Hey, angel.”

“Good morning, Charlie,” Leon says.

If you had any resolve for today left in you at all, the wash of his sizzling butter voice would squash the last of it. You’d been trying to be sweet, but your husband has to be funny about fucking everything, of course. Even after weeks spent apart. You love him so fucking much.

“Don’t tell me you found time to watch that stupid movie.” Your voice is muffled by his coat, and you’re grateful for an excuse to hide.

You’re moving. Leon carries you inside, his wedding band pressing into your leg and his other big, warm hand spooned around your back. “Boring plane ride. I wanted to get your jokes.”

Your front door is toed shut, and with all the efficient maneuvering of a proper agent, Leon gets the place locked up behind you. Somewhere in all the commotion he’d dropped his go-bag by the welcome mat, and you hear the dramatic thunk, thunk, of his fancy work loafers being kicked off beside it. Only then does he slip you onto your own feet again.

Your hands slide down his arms as you make contact with the floor. Somewhere in the back of your mind you’re aware that he’s damp from the rain, but that fact hangs in the little alternate universe he’s made in your front hall. Standing there and being able to look at him straight-on, Leon doesn’t feel real. It’s like your constant thoughts of him have manifested a ghost in his shape, mimicking the smiley rookie you remember.

He greets you with a quiet, beaten-down smile, and you understand immediately that the world has thrown its fair share of punches at him, too. You’ve both had a shit week. The Kennedy surname just brims with good luck, huh?

Your hands work on autopilot as you take him in, slipping under the fabric of his jacket and lingering over his thudding heart. His warm blue gaze swims over your face, and you can almost hear the clicking mechanisms in his head as he forces himself out of operative mode and into home mode by looking at you.

“It’s a really bad movie,” you say, choked up.

Leon’s jacket hits the floor with his shoes. There’s a swath of ugly, purpling bruises crawling up his bare arm, old enough to be greening at the edges, and your stomach churns when you see it.

He taps your chin up, pulling you away from the damage and back on him. His voice rolls over you like bourbon in a glass. “Absolutely. So-bad-it’s-good, even. We should watch it, make fun of it together. Like, why the hell does…”

Leon flawlessly falls into an analysis of the movie’s poorly-written espionage elements. The movie you made one offhand joke about several weeks ago, mind you. He’s pulling at straws, saying whatever the hell comes to mind to make you laugh, so exhausted he’s literally swaying on his feet. You can’t believe he’s trying to distract you with something so trivial, but this is your husband. One flash of that weary closed-mouth smile, one brush of those callused hands down your wrists, and your whole world resumes its orbit around him.

You laugh at the jokes he’s obviously crafted for your benefit, a weak chuckle your heart isn’t in. With his hands looped around your wrists, he guides your arms around his neck and welcomes you back into the toasty bubble of his touch. Leon’s even warmer from being tucked underneath his coat. Pure goodness and safety glows off him like a fucking nuclear reactor, and it dawns on you that you haven’t felt safe at all since he left. Anyone can be plucked off the streets here.

One more scratchy kiss and then he’s leading you deeper into your apartment. No one on Earth would believe that he’s a chatty guy, but he talks the whole way through. Too often he’s left to sit in his own mind on missions, and you’re treated to two week’s worth of his backlog in the next ten minutes. All the little things he wanted to say to you. The streams of smart-mouth commentary he was famous for at the academy are all inner monologue now, but you’re confident the Leon radio show still runs twenty four hours a day. He chatters so much in his head that it slips out of him like water sometimes—

“…that close to an explosion would disintegrate you, but fuck physics I guess—“ Leon interrupts his own flow of thought to squint at you. “Quit looking at me like that. It’s unfair how pretty you are when you’re tired. What was I—not like the laws of physics apply to that movie anyway, but…”

—and you’re stupidly charmed by it. He talks to comfort himself, and because the two of you are one unit, one person to him, he does the same for you.

With your hand tethered in his, he clicks off the radio in the kitchen. One of Leon’s side-stories replaces the random late-night station that’d been playing, floating over the din of the rain like bass over relaxing drums. He pours out the dregs of your coffee. He closes the files full of gruesome crime scene photos on your coffee table, and you watch, barely able to keep your head up, as he flips your whiteboard over to its blank side. You’ll get his second opinion on the case tomorrow.

Leon sweeps the place with you in tow, and once the security system’s armed and you’re almost sagging against him, the lights come off. Though you’ve had plenty of time to adjust to the Leon that returned home from training, you’ll never get used to the little alien ticks it’s given him. He navigates to your bedroom in complete blackness. He avoids the creaky floorboard just outside your door without seeing, deathly silent. The broad presence of him looms in the dark.

One wall of the bedroom is nothing but paneled glass, throwing a long square of dark blue moonlight over your rumpled comforter. While the view of the Potomac and Capital Hill is stellar from up here, you’ve always felt out of place among the things Leon’s generous salary has earned the two of you: a flat with a private elevator in the nice part of town, fresh-off-the-press sports cars, a getaway cabin up north. So much of it you end up enjoying by yourself. It only ever feels worth it when he’s here, smacking his elbow into the digital wall-panel that controls your A/C.

“—s’ supposed to be a touch screen,” he sidebars himself for the tenth time. Softer, Leon adds, “Brush your teeth. I’ll be right there.”

You rope your arms around his middle and press your face into the heart of his back, careful of the bruises he’s doing his best to hide. “Wanna wait for you.”

Leon doesn’t protest. There’s more little beeps as he screws with the temperature of your mattress or something, deciding, “We live in a damn spaceship. Are we too good for plain old-fashioned buttons now?”

Apparently you are, since old man Leon fails to figure out how to crank the heat up. You let him play with it for a little while longer (it’s not his fault he’s rarely home), and then intervene with a few quick taps when things get dire. The heater hums to life under the floor a beat later, and he turns in your grip to scoff, mystified by your vast and incredible knowledge.

“My smart girl,” he hums.

Just that is enough to chip off a piece of your strength. Had he said that to you over the phone, a million miles away in god-knows-where, your knees would buckle. He is the only one who talks to you like that—with so much simple, uncomplicated love. Too tired to put your thoughts into words, you flatten a hand over his heart and kiss the sun-freckled nape of his neck.

“Clingy,” Leon mutters. You’re pretty sure it’s supposed to sound dry and funny, another one of his jokes. But then he’s smoothing both of his palms down your arms in two long handsy swaths, and the gesture tells you everything about just how clingy he’s feeling, too.

His stories make getting ready for bed an even slower affair. You couldn’t mind if you wanted to. As you help him out of his starchy dress-shirt button by button, he surprises you with a rare explanation of where he’s been for the last weeks. The UK. Truly, your husband is the special secret agent to end all special secret agents: he talks around his job as if it was a bump he’d hit on the way home, entertaining you instead with his Leon-ified vision of London. Touristy as shit. Loud as shit. Smelled like shit.

“Just like DC,” he chuckles, and then a second time when your fluffy head pops through the collar of the sleep shirt he’s dressing you in.

It’s too much rough, cinnamon spice laughter for one woman to stand. You duck away to brush your teeth and groan into your palms like a schoolgirl over him, but sure enough, Leon trails you, fingers chasing the hem of your shirt (his shirt) in a sleepy daze. He always keeps you in view. Nervous, maybe, to have you out of his sight.

This tradition continues when the two of you crawl into bed. Your eyes have adjusted to the darkness, and so has your body, able to sense him on the stupidly expensive mattress beside you. He thinks you can’t tell, but his gaze roves over you again and again—down your back when you flop face-first into the plush bedding, over the slope of your shoulder when you wiggle under the covers. Leon draws you into the glorious halo of his body heat with a gentle hand on your belly. If you could bottle this feeling, the whole world would be sick and stupid for him in hours. Minutes even.

You feel so safe that the word doesn’t even come to mind. Just vague, peaceful shapes of things you know, home, sleep, cologne, cozy. His work-rough palm with his body-warm wedding band slips under your tee to sweep over your ribs. Then comes Leon’s face, just on the right side of stubbly as he shoves it between your shoulder blades without a single lick of shame. The breath he takes of you is so heavy that his whole frame shudders with it, top to bottom.

You remember how you’d burrowed into his jacket the second he got home and think, You are me and I am you. We’re always on the same page.

With that, the stage is set. DC’s faraway glittering cityscape lights up all the raindrops on your window, and you watch them run as the two of you melt into one another. Leon’s warm breaths slow across your neck. Time for you to deliver your line.

You wet your lips and murmur into your pillow, “Do you want to talk about your mission?”

Legally, he can’t say yes. Government secrets, bureaucracy, yadda yadda. Leon isn’t always emotionally ready to crack open a coffin he’s just finished sealing, either, but while it is his job to close your case files for the night, you’re his wife. You’re the only person who can knock on that door. With how little choice he has left in his life, you try to give him options whenever you can. Regardless, you know the man you married—strong-willed on a mythical fucking level, and just as self-sacrificing. He’ll always try to spare you.

Sure enough, Leon says, “Tomorrow. Do you want to talk about your case?”

You shake your head at him, exhausted to the point of dizziness. “Tomorrow.”

A tender kiss is pressed to the nape of your neck, and the whole world goes silent for the perfect, husky whisper you’ve ached to hear. You feel his wry smile against your skin. “We’re always on the same page, baby.”

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy/reader #resident evil #resident evil four #re4 remake #leon kennedy drabble #uncouthre

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xhopelessheartx · 1 year

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Revenge Blanket Grid Pattern

This is a grid pattern and some notes from me, but I will not be teaching you how to do any of it as such. This grid can be used in crochet or knitting, but I have only provided instructions for crochet.

To complete this project you will have to be able to do the following:

Chain stitch

Double Crochet (UK) (US Single)

Turning chain

Make a tension square

Seamless colour change in the middle of a row

Seamless colour change at the beginning/end of a row

Work from a grid pattern

I have made this pattern free but if you do use it I would love it if you would give me a tip on my ko-fi so I can make more patterns in the future! Please also give me a follow and check out my shop :)

I made my blanket using DK weight yarn and a 4mm hook, and used a double crochet stitch throughout. it ended up being roughly 121cm x 121cm.

Make a tension square:

For this grid to look correct when worked you need to have a tension that is creating a perfect square.

This project has the same amount of stitches as it does rows (220 stitches, 220 rows) so a correct tension square for this project will have the same amount of stitches as it does rows, and will measure the same on all sides creating a perfect square. If your tension square is in fact a rectangle, your whole project will be distorted to a rectangle.

For example; with DK yarn and a 4mm hook, I made a square that was 20 stitches wide by 20 rows tall and it measured 11cm on every side. this was how i knew my blanket would end up as a square.

If you know your tension already then this should be pretty easy, but this part is really important so make sure you get it right.

Changing colours:

You will want to be doing a seamless colour change to avoid having weird looking ‘steps’ up and down from each colour. People change colours and deal with multiple stands of yarn in different ways so you will need to find which method is best for you.

Seamless colour change example, the way I do it: Begin with black. Insert hook into the next stitch, yarn over and pull up a loop. You'll have two loops on your hook. Drop the old colour and pick up the new colour, yarn over and pull through both loops to finish the double crochet.

You can carry your yarn through your project in different way rather than cutting and adding new pieces with each colour change -I dropped my yarn behind on the back (wrong side) and picked it up again instead of carrying it through as I found the contrast of the colours made the carried yarn too visible, but you can do this in whatever way you want.

The grid:

I have not provided written instructions for this grid but there are some things to remember:

You will be working with a Right Side (RS) and Wrong Side (WS). The RS is the side where the text reads correctly, from left to right and the image looks correct.

You can work this grid from any side, it doesn't matter, although it makes more sense to start at the bottom and work up. Just remember to keep track of which direction you are going in and where you are. A big thing to remember is when you turn your work at the end of a row you will then be working in the other direction (switching from RS to WS and vice versa).

Because this grid is so large I recommend using stitch markers to break it up into sections that are more manageable, and transferring those markers to your grid so you can better keep track- this will help you to avoid mistakes.

To begin this grid, chain 220. Turn, and make a turning stitch - you are ready to begin the first row of your grid.

(you will probably need to save this image to be able to view it in full quality)

After I finished my grid I added a row of double crochet all the way around and then did a row of granny clusters to give it a nice border but you could add any border you want or none at all! I am also planning on backing mine with some fleece or flannel to make it tidier but this isn’t necessary.

I apologise for this being so haphazard but I do hope you enjoy making it! If you have any questions please shoot me a message on any platform and I’ll do my best to answer!

Again, if you are using this grid here is a link to give me a tip so I can carry on crocheting and making patterns: https://ko-fi.com/xhopelessheartx. Thank you :)

I would also love it if you tagged me on instagram or twitter with your projects!

instagram: x.hopelessheart.x

twitter: caffeinatedeyes

please do not reproduce this grid or claim it as your own, it is for personal use only and is not to be sold

#pattern #crochet #mcr

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kiame-sama · 2 months

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Omggggggg Zestial would be the BEST yandere papa out there istg I love your new fic 💜💜💜

Warnings; Same for Hazbin, platonic yandere, gender neutral reader, stalking

~~~~~~~~

"This day doth become itself. With luck, Pride shall be treated to acid rain come the eve."

Zestial hummed with a pleasant smile gracing his inhuman features as he walked along the sidewalk by your side. He had been a fairly persistent companion to you ever since you struck your deal with him. Though it had been several months, you were only now adjusting to life in Hell.

That first week Zestial never left your side, and not a single sinner dared look your way for too long. The only other sinners you really interacted with were overlords and even they were rather far and few between. It wasn't easy to get used to the constant din of Hell, but you did what you could.

You were quick to warm up to your room in Zestial's manor and he often let you have free roam so long as you stayed inside. It was a very quiet place compared to the rest of Hell and you figured that Zestial was not one for being doted on or fawned over. Still, he seemed to value your presence in his home so you refused to question him on it.

Month one ended in a difficult way as you learned just why you were called a Sin Eater. You had gathered that you consumed an overlord your first day in Hell and that's likely why it took so long for the hunger to set in again. When it did finally take hold of you, Zestial was swift to intervene and found a soul of his own to satiate that howling emptiness. Returning to awareness was not pleasant but the ancient Overlord was a gentle comfort in your distressed state.

You learned to recognize the signs when your hunger was about to set in and warn Zestial of it prior to a black-out. He was always quick to aquire or procure a sinner for you and never seemed bothered by it. When you did finally question him he had just smiled and told you he knew what he agreed to by making a contract with you.

It was at the three month mark you realized the contract was both to protect you from Hell and to protect Hell from you. Zestial finally allowed Carmilla to tell you what other Sin Eaters had done prior to your arrival. There was a reason they were destroyed quickly and without mercy.

Carmilla still didn't trust you, but she trusted that Zestial had a good grasp on the unfortunate nature of your soul. It was with her approval that you started to venture out without Zestial by your side in constant. Unbeknownst to you, he simply stayed in the shadows and still followed your every step.

Now at the second day of month four he was walking with you to see Carmilla. Though it was what one could consider a sunny day in Hell, you weren't feeling as happy or pleasant as Zestial was. Something had happened that first day of the month and you were worried how Zestial would take it. Coincidentally that was also the first time Zestial truly let you navigate Hell without hovering over your shoulder.

"What weighs upon thy soul, young (Y/n)?"

Ever perceptive as always, he picked up on the way you seemed so occupied with your thoughts. Deciding to give a gentle nudge at first to see if you would share willingly. Though he did not want to command you to tell him, he still felt he needed to know what had you so distracted.

"Nothing."

"(Y/n), thy soul spins another yarn, do not presume to lie."

"I... Something happened yesterday."

"Do tell."

"it- it wasn't something big. Just... Some sinners seemed to think I had money they could take."

"Did it come to blows?"

"No... I just didn't fight back when the started taking my stuff and they left after realizing I didn't have anything they wanted."

There was a moment of silence as you tried to play it off like it wasn't a big deal, but you had managed to keep your voracious nature under control. However, Zestial was less than pleased. He was not angry that you got into a fight, he was upset you didn't call for his aid or kill the other sinners. He would rather you kill them than let others harass you and take advantage of you.

"Tell me, (Y/n), doth thou not place value on thine own life?"

"But... I thought I wasn't supposed to fight-"

"Child," Zestial interrupted, turning to face you fully, "thou art supposed to call upon me in times of strife. Thy deal is in place for a reason."

Zestial was clearly displeased and you felt genuinely bothered to have upset him especially when you had been trying so hard to not be a problem to the elder overlord. As you saw it, Zestial was both patient and caring towards you, so upsetting him was a difficult pill to swallow.

"I'm sorry, Zestial. I didn't mean to make you mad. I- I'm sorry."

He let out a soft sigh, the frustration seeming to melt from his person as he straightened up.

"It is not anger that occupies me, Child. It is concern. A Sin Eater may be thine title, but thy soul doth belong to me. Those who target mine own souls doth incur my wrath upon their house. Thou art one of my treasures and thy soul was at risk. And had they been displeased to find no items of value upon thy person, they could have turned to pleasures of the flesh instead. Call me to thy side whenever anyone tries to give thee trouble, that is an order."

"Ye-yes, Zestial."

The elder sinner frowned slightly before he pulled you to his side, checking you over for any sign of mistreatment. He almost finished his inspection with nothing to show for it before he paused, seeing the ring of deep bruises around your wrist where one of your assailants grabbed you. There was a long moment of silence as he stared at the ring around your wrist, his eyes all widening as the top two gained red irises with black pupils.

"The second thou doth lay eyes upon these sinners again, thou shalt immediately call upon me so that punishment may be delivered. This is also an order."

"Yes, Zestial."

"Clearly it was my folly to believe that thou could walk amongst the streets of Pride unattended. It is not a mistake that shall be made again."

When Zestial released your wrist, the ring of bruises was gone and he had returned to a much calmer state. One large hand rest upon your shoulder as he began to walk once again, leading you towards Carmilla's home among the streets of Hell.

Sinners ran and hid the second they saw Zestial in broad daylight, but there were eyes that still trailed after the soul by the overlord's side. Cameras turned and focused on the little soul, wondering just what use the oldest overlord could possibly have for them. Certainly another valuable soul was on the market and the ever watchful Vox of the Vees was looking to cash in.

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #platonic yandere #yandere Zestial #gn reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

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The Lost 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, mentions of loss, grieving, death, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: nomad!Steve Rogers

Summary: You move into a shared flat and encounter a mysterious man.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

When your shift ends, you leave the shop, heading down the same way you came. You stop at the corner of Mason and think better of going that route. You take that man’s advice and go along Doxtator instead. It’s quieter, there aren’t as many businesses so not as many people loitering and tossing cigarette butts.

You come up to the shared house and enter through the side door as usual. You wouldn’t call it routine yet, you haven’t been there long enough, but a ripple of deja vu comes over you. You keep your head down as you enter the kitchen. As you do, there’s another person in there.

You don’t know if you should say hello. You haven’t seen this man before. He must be one of the others. He pulls a box of rice crackers out of the cupboard and ignores your presence. You follow his lead and don’t say a word as you set your bag on the counter and pull out the drawer. You write your name on the few items you got from the store before you left; a box of cereal, a carton of milk, and some packets of ramen.

You put it all away as the other resident traipses off down the hallway, shuffling footsteps reverberating off the shabby walls. You shut the fridge as you hear the outside door open and shut. As you turn, the other man enters; the big one with the shaggy hair. S as you think of him.

He nods at you as you fold up the paper bag and shove it in the bin. He goes to the cupboard and opens the door. He sighs and takes out the same box of crackers as the last man. He shakes it and tuts. You see then the S marked on the side.

You leave, not wanting to get involved. You feel bad that someone else took his food but you also don’t need the drama. You hate conflict. At least now, you know to watch your things. Maybe later you’ll sneak out and retrieve your ramen so you can preserve a few meals.

You’re not very hungry. Your appetite is sparse these days. Maybe it’s this place. You can’t quite settle in, maybe because you hope it’s only temporary. Yet, you can’t say if that’s because you’re holding onto hope that by some miracle you could go back to your former life or that you might even forge a new one.

You lock the door and turn on the standing lamp. You fold your coat over the metal frame of the bed and sit to untie your shoes and peel off your socks. You change into a loose pair of sweatpants and a plain tea with a Pepsi logo on it. Not your clothes, another set of charity tatters.

You lay down and stare at the wall. You used to have a television in your room. You’d watch the old sitcoms they replayed on the public access channel. Or you’d listen to music and knit something. You had at least a dozen scarves more than you needed. You might be able to afford some needles and yarn after your first pay.

The cone of light casts a low haze through the tight space. Your eyes slowly close as thoughts of shutting off the lamp fade into your subconscious. You’re asleep before you can feel yourself drift off.

🚪

You wake to a strange sound. Your eyes flick open to the yellow lamplight as you lay stiffly on your back. You groan as your cramped muscles tug. You stretch and the bed frame creaks with your movement.

The scratching continues. You’re not surprised. You would expect mice in a place like this. There were some at the shelter too. They mostly left you alone, just skittered by as they searched out crumbs.

It gets louder as you sit up, tilting your head as you try to loosen the knot between your shoulders. You stand slowly, daunted by the pang across your hips. The mattress is thin and you can feel the frame on the other side.

“I know you’re awake, sweetie,” the voice startles you as it slips beneath the door. You stop your arm midreach as you go to click off the lamp. You peek over and see the shadow shift under the door. “Sweetie? I can see your light’s still on, why don’t you open the door?”

You don’t know the voice. It’s pitchy and uneven. The sickening tune behind it makes your stomach wrench. You stay far from the door as the handle jiggles, the deadbolt keeping it from opening.

“Sweetie. I just wanna talk. You don’t have to open the door. Just talk to me…”

You hug yourself and gulp. There were men in the shelter who tried to talk to you, the ones who got too close, who would stand over you while you slept. You were lucky they went away when they were caught.

There’s another shift and the floorboards groan. You hear an odd scuff and see something slide beneath the door slowly. Little by little. It’s a hand mirror, just thin enough to fit. Oh my god.

“Sweetie, I wanna know your na–”

The click of a mechanism and the grind of hinges interrupt your unwanted visitor. The mirror stills and the floor creaks again. You chew your lip as you listen with bated breath.

“Oh, hi,” the same voice greets someone.

“Go,” the deep voice orders gruffly.

“You can’t make me–”

“What are you doing out here?” The other man asks. You recognise S’s timbre.

“N-nothing. I live here too. I can be in the halls,” the strange man responds.

“I’m trying to sleep.”

“I wasn’t making noise.”

There’s a pause. Footsteps follow, getting closer, and you hear the squeaky voice utter a ‘no’ as the mirror wiggles slightly then is kicked further inside, scuttling over the floor.

“What the hell?” S growls, “you leave her alone.”

“I wasn’t bothering her–”

“I know what you were doing. I know who you are. What you are. So go before I crush you like the worm you are,” S’s words make even you shrink in fear.

“Ha, you think you deserve her. Because you look like you do,” the other man accuses, “you don’t scare me.”

“I don’t care if I scare you, I’ll break you in half if I see you at her door again,” S sneers and there’s a thump on the door, followed by an ‘oomph’. “Got it?”

“Got… it,” the breathy hiss chokes out, “let me go.”

A sudden scramble of footsteps, as if thrown off balance, clatter across the floor. They continue, quicker and quicker until you can’t hear them. You hear a sniff, then a sigh. A shadow appears at the bottom of the door.

“Hope you’re okay in there,” S says, “I’ll keep an ear out for that creep.” He pauses as if waiting for an answer but you can’t find one past the hammer of your heartbeat, “have a good night.”

The floor groans with his weight as he retreats and his door gently clasps. You can’t move. You lean into the wall and let your legs fold as you slide down onto your bottom. You’ll leave the light on for tonight. You don’t think you can face the dark.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #nomad!steve #drabble #series #the lost #avengers #captain america #mcu #marvel

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slippinninque · 4 months

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Fontaine, Seduced

(alternatively : Fontaine Tries To Be A Gentleman But You Aint Ask Him For All'Dat)

Warnings: 18+, SMUT, Minors DNI, long fic, cursing, use of the n-word, thirsty Fontaine, ramblings, slight corruption kink, praises n' begging, P-in-V, light bondage, Slips' First Smut

A/N: So sorry for the wait! Sooo, this is in answer to the anon who asked how Fontaine would be if he was trying to hide his nasty. i really hope i did you proud! I've

He...may have a problem.

There you were, the light of his life, seated on the floor and in a nest of your own making. Blankets and pillows spread with you nestled in it's center. A skein of yarn to your left as whatever it was you were creating grew in your lap with snacks to your right.

Absolutely adorable while you watched an old western with him. Fontaine knew you were warm and soft as a cake from your shower and shea butter, he could smell your hot chocolate with every sip you took.

Your furry socked feet rubbed together in your contentedness and every so often, you'd lean back on Fontaine's legs to look up at him until he leaned down to kiss you.

He wanted to see you cry.

It was terrible, he was terrible. You've been nothing but good to him and here he was wanting to see those pretty eyes rolling. It was a problem, he knew it.

Still...

He wanted to bend and twist you, he wanted to hear how close he could get you to screaming. Fontaine wanted to bite from your neck to your ankles, he wanted to ruin your sheets. He wanted to ruin the back seats in his ride, take you on a walk and lay you down beneath the moon and hear you call for him.

Fontaine knew how pretty you'd be taking his dick down your throat and he wanted to see it first hand.

But....it was you.

He could imagine wrapping a hand around those pretty locs and tugging them down to swallow his dick, but he wasn't sure if he could bring himself to do it.

Because it was you.

What if he hurt you? What if he did something you didn't like and you didn't tell him?

What if he scared you?

The idea alone distressed him.

He wouldn't risk it. Fontaine wouldn't risk anything when it came to you.

"Tea time? I think its tea time."

Your words drew him from his thoughts, movie long forgotten as he watched you stretch. You rolled partly onto your side, humming and unaware of the chaos you were causing as your cami rode high and your nipples pebbled beneath the fabric.

"You want some tea?"

You were laid out into your back now, lost in a other stretch and Fontaine took a breath and nodded.

He was fine.

It was fine.

:::

It was not fine.

"I know it's a lot, but I made a promise." You sighed, looking over your shoulder and into the full length mirror in the back of the bedroom door. Fontaine sat only a few feet away, the polishing his sneaker in the same damn spot.

The promise was modeling a line of beautifully crafted crystal-bikini sets. Your locs were piled up carelessly as you struggled to clasp the top piece.

Fontaine has never seen anything like it, but you often ran with an artsy crowd. You often brought home strange and beautiful things to either model, store, or complete.

He really he hoped that you get to keep this one.

"You good, baby, you good. Tell what's it made of." Fontaine cleared his throat and stood, coming up behind you to take over.

"Fluorite and clear-quartz, you can see the lil' silver bells, right?" she said. "It reminds me of those flapper girls! But without the, uh, middle part, y'know? Look!"

You took a step back and twisted your hips with a soft, "Swish, swish!"

Fontaine whistled lowly. All he saw pretty titties and tasty thighs. When you turned and bent over a bit, wagging your bottom at him, he moved before thinking.

He cracked you right across the ass.

You squealed, putting your hands on your cheeks and looking at him with wide eyes.

"Ooh, shit, my bad baby!"

Fontaine's heart fell into the floorboards, regardless of giggle fit you were in. He pulled you close with one arm, pressing apologetic kisses to the top of your head while his free hand rubbed your cheeks.

What the fuck was he thinking? Okay, he's gave you a little pop every now and again but that--that was out of line.

'You fuckin' up, nigga.'

"It's okay, it's okay. Really, it was really the sound that surprised me--okay?"

Fontaine looked you in the eye, saw your glimmering eyes and the giddy smile. He kissed your cheeks, wanting to feel your blushing face.

Then he nodded.

You kissed him on the lips, then had the nerve to bat your eyes at him.

"Y'know...I do get to keep this."

:::

"--od, Big Dawg?"

Fontaine's head snapped up and saw that Big Moss was trying to pass him a blunt. He shook his head at himself, taking the blunt and then taking a pull.

Big Moss shook his head as well, "C'mon, tell me what's up."

"I'm good, 'Moss. Jus' got a lot on my mind."

"Is it about your lil' shawty or somthin'?"

He grunted. Feeling his stare, Fontaine turned to face Big Moss who's expression was expectant.

"Well? Tell ya mans what's goin' on!" On went the fan and Fontaine knew it wasn't going to be let go.

He took another hit and passed the blunt back, "She's a good girl. Ain't like the others I had, I ain't gotta tell you that. Can't treat her like normal."

"Can't treat her... normal?"

"Can't treat her normal, y'know wha' I'm sayin'?"

A beat of silence. Then Big Moss' eyes widened in understanding,

"Oh! can't trea--yeah, a'ight, I see, I see."

Fontaine sighed and told Big Moss about losing himself when you were trying on the bikini-set, how bad he felt.

"Did she feel bad?"

"What?"

"I know you heard me, nigga. Like, did she cry or cuss yo' ass out? Get up and leave? anythin'?"

Fontaine didn't have to think hard to recall your smile, the breathy way you laughed, "...No. She wasn't mad. I was the one most fucked up by it."

Smacking his lips, the Big Moss put a hand on Fontaine's shoulder,

"Lemme tell you somethin', this yo' first Good Girl--ain't it? I'll tell you somethin' about 'em. The sweetest little faces be hiding the nastiest shit, cuz."

Fontaine scoffed, unbelieving. He recalled your inexperience at the beginning of your relationship. You were nervous but you did make up for it in unlimited enthusiasm...

"Hmn."

Big Moss continued, "I'm telling you, man! She's probably shy 'bout some shit and just need a lil encouragement from her man. Trust me on this, Big Dawg. I've seen how ya'll are--"

His free hand went up innocently at the look Fontaine gave him,

"All I'm sayin' is that ya'll rock with each other. Work with her, man. It'll all be cool in the end, ya dig me? Whatch it be something small, I'm tellin' you!"

Fontaine thought about it.

Then he nodded. Big Moss nodded back, handing over the blunt and not bothering to hide his grin.

:::

Fontaine had a plan.

He was thinking about it every since he left Big Moss, their talk still echoing through his head.

'Take it slow if you that worried, Big Dawg.'

'Moss was right. Fontaine took it slow made sure to be careful when dealing with you, and it's gotten him nothing but sweetness and warmth back.

He went to your place without even thinking and you welcomed him in with an excited smile. That smile grew nearly manic when you saw the take out in hands.

He took in your plushy romper and slippers as he followed you into the den. That winter weight that you've been commenting about was nothing but God and Fontaine knew to be grateful.

"Damn girl, whatchu been up too?" He rose a brow at the whirlwind of yarn and notebooks.

"Ah, just trying to keep hands busy!" you said with an embarrassed little laugh. You hurried to make space for him on the couch, moving your next to the floor after tossing down a few blankets.

You went onto your hands and knees, spreading out all the corners and pulling a few seating cushions closer. Fontaine followed the lines of you, right to the lil' bit of booty that was peeking out.

"You gonna be sittin' away from me?" Fontaine mumbled, eyes stuck to your ass.

"I'll come closer." You promised with a coy smile, then told him to get comfortable. You asked if he needed anything as you both settled down.

Fontaine nearly purred at your care of him, reminded of how good he had it with you.

He just had to go slow. Get used to checking himself, making sure he wasn't doing too much. Fontaine would contain himself.

A soft touch brought him outside of his head.

"Whatchu doin' down there, pretty?"

Your hands slid up his jean clad thighs and aimed those bright eyes at him. You still laid your cheek on his knee, still rubbing as you blink slowly at him without saying a word.

Fontaine's tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He wasn't prepared for this. All he could do was nod and you gave him a candied smile as you pulled down his zipper. He groaned inwardly, bracing himself as the lust for nearly boiled over.

He was trying to be a good.

Your soft hands found his dick already half hard. Fontaine shifted to make more room for you, utterly enthralled by the way you licked your lips and wriggled closer.

A few pumps were all he needed and without preamble, you slipped his dick right to the back of your throat.

His ears rang and he finally released the remote he's been clutching, arms going out to span the back of the couch. What the fuck was this?

Your head went in small bobs, never letting the head of Fontaine's dick from the back of your throat. Your tongue was wet and wonderful. Nearly serpentine as you jerked the base of him, pulling back and giving his tip saccharine kisses.

He breathed heavily, hips jerking only once before he remembered himself. You hummed disappointedly and pulled back, looking at him with a small frown

" 'Taine, you need to relax." You still stroked his length, "Are you not into oral, we don't have too--

"Naw, that ain't it," Fontaine interjected quickly,

You rewarded him with another wet kiss to his tip, "Then why aren't you putting this where it belongs?"

He blinked as your words rang through his ears, the sweetest faces...

"You always go stiff as a board when I'm down here, never let me stay as long as I want." you sniffed and rubbed your lips against his dick.

His voice was faint, "I ain't want you to think you had to."

"I'd love to, Fontaine, that's the thing. More than often, preferably." You sighed, "I love that you're careful with me, but have you ever...wanted to...not be?"

Fontaine's hands balled where they were still up on the back of the couch.

You made the face when you were going to be really patient with him about something. Your gave his dick another kiss, soft as silk.

"Would you still be into me if I wasn't acting sweet all the time?"

He never understood whiplash until this very moment, but Fontaine focused when he saw the furrow in your brow.

"I don't care how you act, you're gonna still be mine at the end of the day." Fontaine was certain there was nothing that you could go through that he wouldn't be there to stand with you.

"Exactly. You ain't gotta be on your best behavior. You have me and all I want is you. How ever you are. I'm yours."

You laid it out so easy for him, the right words strung together to settle perfectly in his mind. Your words, your words...

Fontaine sat up, his focus zeroing in on you. Your back straightened as you continued.

"So what if I want to act...like-um..."

He sat up, "What? You wanna act up, pretty girl?"

The way you rubbed your thighs together in anticipation ignited him. You were a delicious little morsel on your knees trying to ask if you could swallow his dick again.

The sweetest fuckin' faces...

Fontaine reached out and cupped your cheek, his thumb running across your lips. Your brown eyes were nearly black with a craving similar to Fontaine's.

He gently wagged your face, "Tell me what you want, baby."

"Everything."

He chuckled lowly at your whining and leaned in close enough to brush your noses together.

"You know what you askin' me?"

"You said you'd give me anything I need, didn't you? I need you, Fontaine."

Your voice carried off into a gasp, Fontaine had reached behind you and gathered your locs up into a gentle hold before tugging. With your head drawn back, Fontaine had the pleasure of seeing your pink tongue sweeping across your lips.

"You look hungry, pretty girl."

Your answer was a breathy little moan. Fontaine groaned as he leaned in to claim your lips, his reason slipping into the back seat of his mind.

:::

Arms tied behind your back, you could only rock and whine in Fontaine's lap as he pinched and plucked your tender nipples. One hand pulling the satin scarf that he used to bind your hands. It kept you taut and nearly immobile, enough for him to move you as he pleased.

And move you he did. Sometimes releasing your hands to grip at your waist, leaning up to kiss you or lying back and watching you.

The most nasty things flowed from his delectable lips and he definitely wasn't shy about giving your ass a few swats now.

Fontaine has been wringing orgasms out of you like honey from it's comb. The longer it went on, the more it felt like you were being devoured.

On your knees, away from the couch and up against the wall, folded up in recliner, now back on the couch.

Fontaine has never treated you this way. It was sublime. Gone was his careful touches and tender passion. Fontaine fucked you with a single minded determination, content to relish your ecstasy.

"This is what you wanted, pretty thing? Am I givin' you what you need now?"

You nodded, exhaling sharply as he ground into your sweet spot. Tears sprang to the corner of your eyes at the sweet-hurt of being overwhelmed. You needed more to fall over the line, but you didn't want it to end.

You made desperate noises as he backed off enough to leave you on the edge, "Ye-Yes! Yes, 'Taine-- please, please--!"

He kneaded your ass, rough as he moved you on his dick. The pressure had you releasing a sound you didn't know you could make.

Fontaine's echoing moan shadowed a grin, "That's it, tell me who I am. Tell me who's this pussy's for."

"Yo-You, Fontaine, you..." You babbled, "It's yours, it's yours!"

"And it feels good?"

"Mmn, yesss..."

"Is it too much?"

You shook your head. Fontaine's brow lifted and pace sharpened, ripping a keening gasp from you.

He purred as your eyes rolled back and sat up to meet you chest to chest, using one of his hands to squish your cheeks together.

"Use your words, beautiful. Is. It. Too much?" He husked against your lips, pace frustratingly slowing once again.

Your answer was to bite his bottom lip with the best growl you could muster.

Fontaine muttered something you couldn't hear and then he was leaning back, putting his hands on your thighs and driving up into you in earnest.

It felt like running through fire, seeing ever color at once, knowing the name of every star. All through it, Fontaine continued muttering to himself, no longer concerned with holding you steady.

"Mnh, look at that face. Finally gettin' what you wanted. Acting like like I ain't gonna give you what you ask for--that you can't tell me?"

"It wasn't like that." You whimpered at his hands on you again, reaching down to spread you around him. You gasped and lost balance swaying forward to press your forehead into his shoulder. When Fontaine slowed his pace again, you distantly hoped you'd be awake if he ever decided to cum.

"Don't worry," Fontaine's voice was gravel, "Imma teach you good. We'll find out how much you can take, hm? Together."

You were trembling and your brain was probably slush by now, but you've seen the appeal of being greedy.

Fontaine could still give you more, you still wanted more. Together, you could tear down the fences that kept you from each other's pleasure.

You leaned back enough to mash your lips to his, drinking down his pleased moan.

You didn't care how long it took, you wanted this man to tear you apart and piece you back together.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

PHEW

thank you for reading! this took literally too long and it still feels rushed, but I really wanted to challenge myself! Please let me know what you think, any tips would be greatly appreciated as well!

taglist: @megamindsecretlair @thadelightfulone @mag1calenchantr3ss @cocoeffects @wide-nose-and-wonderful @8ttached @thadelightfulone @hobiesmain @thickeeparker @longpause-awkwardsmile @ms-angiealsina @educatorsareslutstoo @mysterychick93

(let me know if you want to be tagged!! 💕💜🌟)

#fontaine x black reader #fontaine x reader #they cloned tyrone #fontaine fic #please let me know what you think #fontaine x black!fem!reader #fontaine x black!reader #fontaine #Fontaine x you #fontaine smut #they cloned tyrone fanfic #john boyega fanfiction #they cloned tyrone fanfiction #fontaine x blackfemreader #Fontaine x black!fem! reader

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angelkhi · 1 year

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santa's little helper - j.m

pairing: joel miller x reader

summary: you get more than you bargained for being santa’s little helper.

warnings: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), thigh riding, fingering, dirty talk, some cursing, unprotected sex in an apocalypse (big dumb bitches), creampie (even bigger dumber bitches), pet names, age gap, low-key feral joel, a little bit of pining if you take off your glasses and squint. idk i’m writing this post crimbo dinner prep i’m tired.

word count: 2k

a little note: the logistics of when the breakout started and when the reader was born do not make sense but that is not my fault i'm not a scientist and i'm bad at math. anyways here's my singular christmas fic. to anyone that celebrates merry christmas, and to those who don't, have a lovely december 🫶🏾 (also not proofread i’m tired and it’s christmas)

Christmas is one of the few traditions kept alive in Jackson, with handmade paper decorations about the houses, small Christmas trees nursed to health with the help of Joel, children running around singing festive songs you'd missed for so many years. You felt truly alive for the first time in a long time.

Joel's smile is light, barely visible behind the beard curated from yarn, but you’re close enough to see his upturned lips. His eyes flick over your outfit, a green t-shirt turned dress, some striped tights and a stroke of damn near magic with long expired makeup transforming you into Santa’s little helper.

"Cute as a button." He mumbles. A steady stream of children enter the makeshift grotto and you don't get to enquire. Not that you would. Your whole body is ablaze with nervousness, Joel's comment striking deep, so deep in fact you probably could've foreign caking deep pink out of date blush to your cheeks. He’s one of the few good men left in this world, and his rugged looks are an added bonus, so it’s no wonder you keen for his approval.

The day goes off without a hitch, the smiles on the children's faces when they got to meet the Father Christmas, the endless amounts of crayon covered decorations each kid got to design, the supply of sugar cookies that dwindled far too quickly. You almost felt bad for the sugar rush their parents would have to deal with later on in the evening. But they wouldn’t care. It’s Christmas.

By the end of the night you’re beyond tired. A few stranglers help with some off he menial tidying, but you send them on their way, your morning plans of self indulgent cleaning spree at risk of being disrupted.

The town is quiet, but brightly lit when you lock the double doors, and you use the rare moment of peace and quiet to appreciate all that you’ve endured.

"Let me walk you home." You yelp quietly, the voice from the darkness unexpected. Though not unwelcome when you spy Joel's broad shoulder leaning against the old barn.

"You scared the shot out of me" You pause to catch your beating. He looks apologetic and for a moment you're worried you upset him "You don't have to do that."

"Walk you home or scare the shit out of you?" You chuckle.

"Not scaring the shit out of me would be nice, but you don’t have to walk me home Joel." In fact you can see your home from where you’re standing it’s so close.

"I know. I want to."

Joel fears that's about as close as hell get to a confession. He admired your normalcy in a world far beyond it. He admired you, albeit secretly.

The two of you walk in silence, until he’s walking up your porch stairs and you’re panicking about the once welcomed silence, filling it with an invitation into your home. He accepts with a quiet smile, taking in the festive lights and handcrafted decor.

You guide him through the small hallway into a tiny living room, filled with random trinkets and furniture that’s worse for wear. Its more homely than his humble abode, and it screams you, warm and inviting.

He leans back into the worn sofa, his legs spread. Even in the Santa Clause get up you're not sure how to place yourself. It's Joel Miller for heavens sakes. A part of him secretly enjoys your nervous energy as you hover in front of him, not sure what exactly to do with yourself.

"Here come sit." Joel pats the faded velour, "tell me what you want."

He suggested it without thinking, and of course you comply. You’d walk into a building full of infected if he asked. Something shifts when you find yourself in his lap, you wonder if he notices it too, the way the air in the room suddenly grew thicker filled with something you’re not sure you’d ever be brave enough to act on. Your palms grow clammy. Breathe.

Joel is dumbfounded at just how perfect you look in his lap. He’d keep you there forever if he could. His hands rest on your thighs, thumbs guiding a small driving small patterns into the striped tights. He dips his head low, trying to meet your downcast eyes.

“I want you Joel.” The admission has your cheeks tingling in slight embarrassment and an underlying fear of rejection.

"That's it sweet girl. Use your words and i'll give you anything you want."

Those hands slip beneath your dress, a wide palm cupping your warm cunt. He holds your gaze, watching and waiting.

“I want you to fuck me.”

“That so?” He hums, eyes raking over your almost innocent face, then down to where your hips meet his. Two fingers tap your thigh and a commanding ‘up’ is spoken. You raise your hips as he asks, you’d do anything he asked in that moment. Joel’s hands snake around the back of your thighs, pausing for a brief moment before gripping the scratchy tights and pulling with vigor. They split easily under the force, exposing you to him. He thumbs the edge of your panties for a moment, the small creases in his forehead deepening when he takes you in.

"Red lace? Where on earth did you get these?" His tone is light, punching through the heavy thickness in his throat and he tries to collect himself, just for a moment.

"I don't scavenge and tell Mr Miller." You chide playfully.

“Don't care where you got em from as long as I get to keep em."

"Then earn them." Joel smiles, not one to back down from a challenge, giving you a small and simple nod.

He’s so gentle when he places you on the sofa you’re lost for a moment, then he’s on his knees in front of you, hands on your thighs spreading you open. His thumb traces over the wet gusset of the almost transparent lace, a perfectly harsh pressure building when he rests on your clit. He doesn’t bother wasting time taking off the pretty underwear opting to pull them aside instead.

All of that sweetness, all of the hesitation flies out of the window when he finally catches a glimpse of you, so ready for him. Joel’s sharp tongue is sweeping against you in a bruising rhythm, nipping and sucking on your exposed clit. He’s impatient and determined, losing himself in how good you taste, showing no mercy when you grind yourself against him, gasping when your clit swipes against the soft bump of his nose. Your hands swipe through his salt and pepper waves, pulling him closer and he decides then that he’d happily die between your thighs. Your soft whimpers grow louder until they’re high pitched whines whilst you chase the orgasm he’s so desperate to give you.

“Fuck Joel.” Your fingers tighten around his soft hair, his rough fingers curling your weeping hole. All it takes is on hooked finger pressing up against that spot, one more soft drag of his tongue and you’re finished. Joel’s hips buck up at nothing when you cum on his face, making those pretty noises, hips clean off the couch cushions as you ride out your orgasm. But he doesn’t let up, fingers moving at a languid pace.

"Gimme one more. One more and i'll fuck your pretty cunt so good you'll feel me for days." Cocky bastard.

You’ve clearly lost all sense, because you nod like you have anything left to give.

He doesn’t stop, not until you’re thighs are practically shaking around his head, and you can barely keep your head on your shoulders. He looks so proud of himself when you find the energy to open your eyes. Like he could walk away untouched, your release giving him all the pleasure he needs.

He manoeuvres your pliant body back into his lap, hands cupping your jaw, thumb stroking your cheek.

"I ain't gonna be sweet on ya." Lies. He's already more than sweet on you, half way to smitten and too much of a coward to confess. If he were one for making rash decisions he'd be on one knee begging you to marry him and making you cum on his face. Though he wouldn't need a rash decision for the latter.

"Don't want you to be soft on me Joel. Please." You grind your hips into his growing bulge, shuddering breaths drowning out your weak plea. You make quick work of pulling down the handmade red trousers, hesitating only for a moment when your fingers rest on the waistband of his boxer shorts.

Joel’s chest heaves a little when your soft hands grip him, dragging the shiny pink head of his cock against your wet cunt, slipping him into your sopping hole with ease.

“That’s it. Take what you need.” He rests a guiding hand on your hip, until your flush against him, taking him to the hilt.

“So good for me.” This man and his fucking mouth.

He presses his mouth against yours, kissing you and claiming you all at once. His lips are surprisingly soft, a heavy contrast to the way he’s gripping your hips, pulling you flush against him. It’s not lost on you that he’s doing all the work but there’s not a single thought left in your head, just Joel and how he feels and sounds.

"Got you nice and full don't I?" You try to speak, honestly you do, but all that comes out is a pathetic whine. "Too fucked out to speak. Look at ya', so perfect all for me."

There is nothing that could pry you away from each other in that moment, your panting breaths, the slight tinge of sweat, burnt sugar and pine in the air. Joel's illicit grunts and your soft screams.

He finds some restraint and pauses, somehow placing you flat on your back, the soft couch cushions moulding around your body, worn out springs creaking beneath the weight of you both.

He cages you in, relishing as you practically melt into the worn leather sofa. His fingers hook under your knee, lifting your thigh higher, the small amount of strain forgotten when he sinks back into you hard and deep.

He takes almost as much as he gives, driving his hips in a harsh rhythm chasing his release, watching the way your body responds to him. Pretty lips parted, eyes closed so tight, pussy clenching around him. Nothing will ever feel this good. Joel thumbs at your clit once again, and he completely surrounds you. He’s so deep you can just about breathe, his deep grunts and guttural moans floating about your once boring living room.

He gives you your third orgasm of the evening, and you feel everything but nothing all at once. There’s nothing but him and you and the knowing that you’d never felt this good before and nothing would ever come close again. His thrusts are relentless, your wet cunt clenching around him sending him over that perfect ledge. Your name is the only thing on his lips when he cums so deep, you’re not sure where he ends and you begin. He’s completely still, muscles taught goading himself through his orgasm, the feeling nothing short of euphoric.

Joel’s hands find your face again, that softness ever present and he melts into your body, your lips.

“Honey you with me?" He asks after a short moment, his voice hoarse. You nod at first, but he’s looking for words, words you’re struggling to find with what little bit of energy you have left.

"I'm with you. Seeing fucking stars but i'm with you." Joel's shoulders grow less tense at your reassurance. He nods, calloused fingers exploring your cool skin all over again. You gasp in unison when he slips out of you, tucking himself into his boxers and pulling your panties back into place.

"So. Did I earn my keep?" The elastic twangs against your skin and the pair of you share a breathy laugh.

"Sure did. I'm all about giving, in the spirit of christmas of course." He smiles, more triumphant than cocky, though it morphs into a look of pure determination when you speak again.

"Did I mention I have them in black too?"

#smut #tlou smut #tlou #tlou hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal joel miller #pedro pascal smut #the last of us smut #the last of us hbo #joel miller x reader smut #christmas fic

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thewulf · 9 months

Text

A Week Too Long || Remus Lupin

Summary: Request - As always I have another request. Can do you a small thingy of Remus x sleepy reader? Like just always tired and would rather nap together than go out. Maybe she falls asleep at breakfast and then the rest of the marauders go looking for them two and find them napping in bed together? Just something cute and simple about cuddles and being sleepy together 💕💕

A/N: I love sweet and soft Remus. Thank you for the request @loving-and-dreaming !!

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Y/N

Word Count: 1.6k+

It had been another night of rather tragic sleep. It happened every year when you got back to Hogwarts. It’s like your brain failed to comprehend what the hell sleep was. You didn’t know if it was the excitement of being back and being around everybody again, the nerves for a new school year, your worry for your werewolf boyfriend or what had you up all night, but sleep evaded you for the better part of it.

“Hey.” Marlene giggled waving a hand in front of your face, “Are you even listening to me?”

Your glazed over eyes snapped back into focus, “Sorry Marls.” You sighed, “I didn’t sleep well last night.”

She frowned, “Again?” Looping her arm with yours she guided you along the corridor towards the Great Hall.

“Every year.” You shrugged bringing your hands up to your eyes. You tried to rub the sleepiness away, but it didn’t seem to help much. Your eyelids felt like cinder blocks that kept wanting to be dragged down and down.

“What’s that about anyway?” She asked spotting your friends from the doorway.

You let a yawn out before answering her, “I dunno. Think I just got to get used to it again. I’ll be fine in a few days.”

She all but dragged you over to the table. You felt like you were going to fall asleep with your eyes open at this rate, “Remus, your girlfriend.” Marlene unhooked herself from you before bouncing off to sit somewhere else. Did she just drop you off with your boyfriend?

“Darling,” His smile dropped when he saw your state, “Sit down, what’s wrong?” Shooting up from his seat he made you sit down with a gentle touch. You were so tired you hadn’t heard the snickers from his, and now your, friends from behind you.

“Rem, I’m fine. Just tired.” You let out another yawn. Your brain desperate for some oxygen to wake you the hell up.

“Yeah Remy, she’s fine.” James teased turning his voice up an octave earning a glare from Remus as he sat back down next to you.

“Bugger off James.” Remus turned back to you making sure to flip his friend off in the process.

“Didn’t know Remus had it in him.” Sirius just had to add in. He leaned forward on the table, an amused expression gracing his lips as his eyes bounced between the two of you. The two of you were nothing new, having been going strong for over two years now. Naturally, you’d grown quite close with his shithead friends that you really did love. They were everything and more for Remus and that meant to the world to you. An incredible human loved by more incredible humans.

You peaked over giving him a broad smile, “James, Sirius, Peter… lovely to see you all again. How was your holiday?” You asked to nobody in particular letting out another yarn trying your darndest to keep your eyes open.

Without hesitation, Remus guided your head to his shoulder. He should’ve known. He saw you like this last year and you’d always mentioned how the start of the year left you sleepless.

“It was fine.” James grinned seeing the soft side of his long-time werewolf friend come out. James would never admit it, but he dreamed of a relationship like the two of yours. The two of you were each other’s safe spaces. You told each other everything. You also gave the other person enough space to grow and flourish on their own. Only pulling them back when they needed it.

Sirius nodded turning back to you. His smile grew into a sneaky little grin seeing your eyes close on Remus’ shoulder, “Let’s just say I’m glad to be back. And she looks like she is too.” You felt Remus’ hands run through your hair. You just knew he was throwing a glare at his best friend. Probably telling him to shut the hell up. Remus always made sure to put you first, even in front of his friends. It never ceased to make your heart swell with the utmost love.

You smiled letting the group know you heard them. Truth was you were glad to be back. You were more than thrilled to be back with your best friends and boyfriend. How cool was it that you got to spend the next ten months with them? Coming from a muggle home the concept of Hogwarts never ceased to amaze you. You were more than thankful for everything your life had thrown at you, no matter how stressful being twelve was. Imagine, you thought you knew the world and then you were thrown into an entirely new one.

“When the bell rings what do you say we skip potions and go take a nap instead?” He asked whispering into your ear

You opened an eye looking right at in not knowing if you heard him right, “Did my studious boyfriend just suggest skipping class?” You soft smile turned into one much wider knowing you’d corrupted him down to the core in the most innocent way possible. Sleep and snuggles were now his weakness. You, sleep and snuggles was all he needed to survive in this world.

He nodded quickly peaking his eyes back at his oblivious friends, “Slughorn probably won’t even notice love. Let’s get you nice and rested up for charms after lunch. How does that sound?” He gave your nose a quick kiss earning a gag from Peter and a snicker from James. Menaces, all of them.

You nodded almost breathless from the sheer intimacy of the moment, not even his friends could ruin it, “That sounds amazing Remy.” You nodded with the lightest touch of a blush on your cheeks. Even after all this time he still made you feel those butterflies like it was the first time all over again.

As if time was reading your mind the bell chimed letting students know it was time to get a start to their day. Remus waved off his friends letting them get a head start. He knew they wouldn’t get nervous until class started and the two of you didn’t show up. He knew their alone time was limited so the second they disappeared from the Great Hall he tapped your shoulder whispering, “Let’s go love, let’s get some sleep.” He pulled you up beside him softly before walking you back to the Gryffindor common room.

It was all a blissful blue of happiness up until you heard James’ obnoxious laugh echoing from the bubble Remus placed around you. Perks of having a genius boyfriend, he knew all the useful charms. You grinned seeing your boyfriend try and shush his loud roommates trying not to wake you up.

He looked back, his shoulders visibly deflated seeing your eyes open. You heard a faint, “You guys woke her up!” Before he cast the charm away with a simple flick.

“It’s our room too!” Sirius whined sitting down on the foot of his bed.

Peter nodded agreeing with his friend, “Yeah!”

You yawned stretching your arms out towards your boyfriend. A lopsided grin crossed his face seeing you reach out for him so needily. He obliged, walking towards you quickly. You nuzzled your head into his chest once he pulled you back into him, “It’s okay boys. I needed to get up anyhow.” The steady beat of Remus’ heart had other plans for you though. Your eyes shut again once he began running his hands through your hair letting you sink fully into him.

You didn’t notice that Remus cast the spell once more silencing you into a bubble once more. He shooed them out successfully letting you fall asleep for another little bit. Remus continued to stroke your hair smiling down at his sleepy girlfriend. He couldn’t believe how truly lucky he was to have you in his life. He planned to have you in it for a long, long time more now knowing he could do it. He could be a part time monster and you still loved him.

“Hi Remy.” You soft voice tore him away from his thoughts.

He looked down at you with a sweet smile, “Hi love, sleep okay?”

Nodding quickly, you answered him, “Better than I have in a while.”

Leaning down he kissed your temple, “Good.” He kissed you once more before continuing, “I missed you.”

You giggled, “it’s only been a week since I’ve seen you Rem.”

He shrugged, “A week too long.” He pulled you in closer to him. He smelled your hair always loving the scent of your shampoo. It always brought him comfort when he needed it most. The two of you had made it a point to see each other a few times throughout the summer when the other wasn’t traveling. Yes, he’d seen you a week ago, but it was too quick of a trip to your parents’ house. He wasn’t able to do this, no not at all. This was what he wanted and craved. You in his arms snoozing away. This was his version of heaven. You were the something he’d always dreamed of.

You nodded, “A week too long, indeed.”

He leaned down to capture your lips on his. His sweet kisses always seemed to catch you off guard. When he pulled away your cheeks were ablaze, pupils blown out in love, terribly breathless. Remus grinned seeing the state he left you in, “I love you, Y/N.”

“Love you so much Remy.” You grinned laying your head down on his chest once more letting him hold you. You knew he’d get you going for charms if he really wanted to. This too was your version of heaven and you too weren’t terribly keen on giving it up.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom

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taybatwo2 · 1 year

Text

Spelldon Monster High Custom

Once I saw that G3 Deuce had green skin, I knew I had to try my hand at making Spelldon Cauldronello. I re-haired him and flocked the sides of his head with yarn to imitate dreads. I sewed him a jacket, shirt, joggers, and socks. I made his little potions (out of beads), earrings (also out of beads), necklaces, gloves, pointed ears (I wish I could have gotten them smoother, but they were so delicate that I could not sand them without them breaking), shoes (out of paperboard and papier-mâché), and repainted his face (my first full face repaint and daaang was that difficult to try and make his eyes and eyebrows look related to one another).

He’s not perfect, but he was super fun to pose and creating him was a HUGE learning experience (like to start sealing all of my thread knots with fabric glue).

You’re more than welcome to draw fanart/make your own based on mine, just tag me- I’d love to see them. Feel free to comment what you like/dislike think I should improve on. :)

Edit: thank you for all the sweet comments in the reblogs guys. You’re all making my day. :)

More under the cut

Close ups of his left side (I like how this ear turned out the best).

And his right side. I couldn’t get this side smoothed out to save my life, haha. Hopefully his earrings distract enough from it. Keeping beads from old bracelets come in handy! These were just the right size for him. I repainted the lower earring in black, with a stripe of purple, and added silver Ancient Greek designs on either side.

One more close up of his left ear and earring (I added a purple pentagram in the center of the silver Greek designs and the color shift sparkle paint around the rim). His upper earring is the same as his right lower earring, but has an orange stripe.

His face-up took awhile, but it is very rewarding to finally give him a face. I tried to make it look like the factory g1 monster high face up and took a lot of inspiration from his older sister Casta’s pupils. I gave him darker purple eyes, with the yellow/gold zig-zags. I gave him three moles, instead of just the one that Casta has, to mix it up a little. I did take a little inspiration from G3 for his eyebrows to add some orange and purple streaks in the front and a cut in his left eyebrow (I don’t know if that is still trendy, but I think it looks cool). The eyebrows are still not super symmetrical, but I already sealed it. I went back and forth on what I wanted his lip colors to be (I know I wanted something two toned) but finally decided on a dark purple upper lip, with a green outlined lower lip.

Also G3 heads are SUPER difficult to try and reattach (and remove) and have to be VERY squishy to put back on their bodies (even after I had trimmed down the neck peg).

Okay, onto his wardrobe! I wanted to imitate Casta’s color pallet: black, orange, purple, silver (and sparkles and studs), while bringing in more “witchy” themes (the buckles, stripe socks, and pentagrams), and his scaritage from his mama Circe (hence the potions, boars on his shirt and shoes, the greek vase designs and the boar designs being black on orange -like the Ancient Greek vases). Even on the Greek designs, I put some teeny tiny pentagrams (namely on his jacket sand socks).

His jacket took the longest (his shoes were the second longest). It is fully lined (the sleeves have a white lining to keep staining to a minimum), and working pockets. I liked the sparkly material I found, but does it shed like crazy (I used it for his collar, cuffs, pockets, and the bottom of his jacket in the back, and wrong side-out for his sleeves -they still have silver sparkles showing though and it doesn’t shed…but it will catch on things). I used thin ribbon for the outside of his pockets (next time I will fabric glue the ends shut on all my ribbons and a thicker ribbon for the bottom of his coat), and bent some wire into buckles. I also used ribbon wire and looped black thread over it to make it look like a zipper. I used fabric paint for the pattern down the front and REALLY hope it stays on there.

I really wanted a mesh back to his coat (I love how that part turned out), and then added this purple sparkly ribbon to his sleeves. He was going to have another pentagram in the back but it was too much (but it left a cool shadow of the star after I removed it).

His gloves are made of mesh and ribbon (with glitter fabric glue continuously added on top of each other, and then painted silver, to make the spikes on his knuckles -same thing I did with his choker and shoes). His nails are painted black with the same color flash glaze paint as part of his earrings.

Okay onto his main outfit without the coat (he’s much more fun and easier to pose without his jacket).

“Spelldon, please move your necklace out of the way, so we can see your shirt better, thank you.”

Close up of his wild boar and Greek vase designs on his shirt (done in fabric paint). I REALLY love how the boar turned out as I was SUPER nervous I was going to mess it up. Having a boar/Greek vase design on an orange shirt was also inspired by @spookberry ‘s design of Spelldon. His necklace pendant was another bead I had (and it worked great for attacking thread too).

Side and back of his outfit (you can see some of that stray black glitter).

“‘Scuse me Spelldon, can you lift your shirt so we can see you joggers better? Thank you.” His joggers/capri’s and socks were inspired by @peppapigvevo ‘s Spelldon design. Once again I used ribbon, that sparkly material for his waistband and cuffs, and silver fabric paint for Greek vase design.

I attached a chain to his joggers and added these potion bottles (while Casta looks like she uses more magic spells and incantations through her singing, I like to think Spelldon uses potions -more like his mom). I made these potions out of wire, beads, thread and air-dry clay.

Onto his shoes and socks. I made the shoes out of paperboard and paper-maché. I wanted them to be boar themed while still having pentagrams and studs on them. They turned out a bit wonky (and a tad too long -but it helps him stand up, haha), but I spent too much time on them to redo them, haha. His shoe sole I also painted with that sparkle flash glaze paint too. I also gave him the striped socks, because I love striped socks and tights on witches.

“Thanks for holding still Spelldon, and being patient with me.” I’m going to make another post or two with comparisons with his sister, some of my other customs, and some vampire that claims he knows him or something, heehee.

Oh yeah! My sketches for him:

#spelldon cauldronello #spelldon #monster high doll #monster high dolls #monster high #mh #doll custom #monster high custom doll #monster high custom #spelldon doll #spelldon Custom #customsbyaleta

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heartfullofleeches · 8 months

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God I really need random blurb of Pin to quench my fluff thirst of him (and ideas). Speaking of Pin, can he eat? like, can he munch down the foods or just straight up swallow everything like a black hole

[They do have a mouth technically - how they eat will remain a mystery. Here's a blurb with my favorite Yan doll and reader who likes to bake/throw parties]

"Sorry... I can't make it."

"Maybe next time?"

"I'm sure others will show."

If only they had let you know sooner.... Or at all.

You always took the smallest thing into accountability when planning. Work schedules, events with family, the weather. You found the perfect day when all of your friends should have been free and sent the invites out a week in advance on the cutest little cards you found on your last trip the supply store. A couple of them had excitedly messaged you about the party, gifting hope soon to be crushed as you sat alone at the dinner table piled with cakes and cookies, and all the other treats you had prepped for their arrival.

You guessed not every adult wanted to visit what was essentially a glorified tea party with no real reason to celebrate, but it would've been nice if they just said that instead of wasting your time and effort. You wouldn't feel as bad if they texted you beforehand, but as always you were left in the dark. They only wanted your skills when it meant something. You were who they called to cater for birthdays and engagement parties - what was the harm in gathering just to see each other?

It sucked, but at least you weren't completely alone.

"At least I still have you, Pin."

The doll's round eyes point down at the large slice of cake on their place, hands posed on either sides of the table. You used the left over ribbon from decorating to make a bow tucked into their hair, keeping their yarn locks parted from their smiling face. Frosted stained their stitched grin from the first time they'd fallen over when you seated them in their chair. It was nice to know someone appreciated your baking - even if they were made of cotton and fabric.

The first to arrive and the only one who stuck around in the end. You found them at the same supply store you bought all of your decorations, but sometimes it felt like they were the one who found you. The oversized almost squashed you when it came tumbling from another prop you'd been checking out. When you couldn't find a price tag and the store owner claimed to never have seen them before, they gave you a fair estimate and you went about your day with a new friend and roommate. Pin had always been there when your friends weren't. You had an entire album full of pictures of your many celebrations together and costumes to match. If there was anyone you could depend on to brighten your day - it was them.

"I'll never leave you!"

Your first smile of the day - all because of the scripted lines of a giant doll. "Thanks, Pin. Glad I can always count on you."

Detangling your fingers from the cord attached to their back, the string pulls once more as you yank your hand away.

"I'm all you'll ever need!"

Your smile falls. "You just might you're right about that.... Well, it's getting pretty late. I should start cleaning up. Enjoy your cake while I do, okay?"

You gather the empty plates and cups on the table, returning them to the cabinets with a heavy heart. Next time will be different. It has to be. You leave Pin in their seat as you change into something more comfortable. Their button eyes follow you from the reflection of a mirror on the wall. While changing, you wonder what to do with the leftovers since there's far too much to eat alone before it all spoils. Reentering the dining room, it would seen that wouldn't be as much of a problem as you thought.

Sprinkles and crumbles coat Pin's face as they hang slumped in their chair. The fork that was once in their hands lies on the floor and their fingers were covered in just as much frosting as their shirt. There was even some on that zipper on their chest you were never able to get down even with pliers. Where an entire cake once sat was now the final envelope from the invite cards you picked up earlier that week. Your name was written in bold lettering on its back along with a little drawing of the missing cake.

"Y/n! Thank you so for always inviting me to your wonderful parties and making me feel like I belong. I wish we could talk more, but I'm a little shy. Your cakes are so delicious, and I'm really sorry your friends didn't come, but that just means more for me! I'm sure they'll come around someday, but if not you know I'll always be around to cheer you up. I love love love you, and appreciate everything you do so please don't ever stop doing what you love.

Sincerely, Pin."

#yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere #yandere blurb #yandere doll #Pin my oc #yandere imagines #yandere drabble

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radioisntdead · 26 days

Note

(To maybe save our hearts from the angst, how about a cuter idea? could be any gender really and be seen as platonic or not just very vague fluffy fun)

A reader who is similar age to Susan and is the opposite type of old person, a gentle Grandparent who has old person candies at all times. Most importantly however is the only one who can calm Susan's feral chihuahua energy, only when they need to of course.

They play cribbage on weekends, and definitely both chat about the youngins- maybe playfully feud on which is better Knit or Crochet

Good evening my dear! This is a little shorter then I wanted but I did write it in a hair salon, where at the time of posting I'm still in.

Bitter and sweet

Warnings!!!

Cannibalism, Reader is GN but gives off old lady grandma vibes, this is written in little drabbles mainly because I wrote them in an hair salon

Susan had a neighbor, she lived to the left of her house, while Susan's house was more stale and strict appearing her neighbor's was more soft colors, with gnomes outside and a lovely garden filled with all types of hell's flora,

You'd think the two would be at odds but they got along well, going out for tea each day, on weekends they'd go to bingo or play a game of cribbage, although they did get into tiffs about what was better between crochet and knitting, like how crochet is easier for some to pick up with the sole hook, or how knitting uses less yarn then crochet, They were dear friends, and this is some tidbits with them.

You and Susan had opposing aesthetics but that didn't stop the two of you from matching outfits in some way or another, she wore her usual pinkish dress? You were two feet away from her in more brighter attire.

"Kids these days are getting more and more foolish each day, fucking crying in the middle of the streets!"

Susan said, sat on a bench looking across the street at some poor cannibal gal sobbing as her dearest assumingly ended things

When you didn't respond she looked over at you only to see that you were gone,

"Where the hell- [Name]!"

You had dashed over to the gal, swatting at her former lover with your handfan, scolding him for breaking things off in the middle of the streets inside of somewhere private or inside a restaurant as the girl sobbed into your arms,

"Shh, it's alright you deserve better, someone with manners!"

You said patting her back, glaring at the unmannered former lover while Susan groaned from her seat, you just had to butt into other people's business didn't you!

Like she didn't do the same at times.

......

"You uncultured, red-40 looking, bad dental hygiene, modern technology radio man!"

Susan raised her cane to the Radio Deer man, you had just entered Rosie's Emporium for a snack,

"Susan! No! That is terribly rude!"

You shouted dashing over quickly before Susan could do anything, pushing down her cane, while apologizing,

"My apologies! I'll escort her out, here buy yourself something tasty"

You said taking the radio demons hand and placing some money and a few pieces of candy into it before linking an arm with Susan and taking her outside while scolding her as she grumbled, leaving the Radio demon lowkey stunned and missing his mother.

You were how he imagined she would've been if she lived to be elderly.

.....

"For fuck's sake! Why are you in my house?"

Susan shouted as she walked into her kitchen only to see you adorned in an old lady apron chopping away at some vegetables while some type of meat simmered on the stove,

"Making us lunch obviously! I have news about that lovely gal we met on the street a few months ago! She's going steady with my nephew, the one with the good job not the one that's married, and I must tell you what her scandalous ex lover had to say-"

You rambled on, mixing up slang from different decades Susan could care less about the gal who was sobbing on the streets but you seemed to hellbent on telling her about the 'tea' as you called it.

.....

"Susie, let's listen to what the princess has to say before booing her off the stage, this is why she called you an old bitch''

You said linking an arm with Susan before shouting over at Charlie as Rosie pulled her aside,

"My apologies!"

You chased down Charlie at a later date to give her some candies for her troubles with Susan,

You paid visits to the hotel after that, bringing treats for the residents.

....

"Knitting is superior, it uses less yarn then your hook, knitting takes far more skill and that little crochet thing seems easier.''

Susan said knitting a scarf as you sat across from her, crocheting a net.

"Susie, you are my dearest friend and I love you, But I can and will surplex you into a wall if you say that again."

Hearing that while you wore the sweetest smile would strike fear into the average sinner.

......

"Are we thinking barbecue? Grilled? Perhaps baked? Oo I recently picked up some new seasonings we could try!"

You shouted over to Susan as you threw a net at an exorcist pulling them down and stabbing them with an angelic weapon before discarding them to the side to harvest their wings later,

"I don't give a donkeys ass as long as they taste good!"

.....

"Susie?"

"Hm?"

"I'm dying again."

"Don't be dramatic!''

She smacked you gently on the head with her cane as you broke out in laughter, angel wing in your hand and gold around your mouth.

Good evening folks! I am actively dangling Susan around like a keychain, I should invest in a Susan keychain, are Susan keychains a thing???

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #susan & reader #hazbin hotel susan #hazbin susan #hazbin hotel

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quiteliterallyilliterate · 3 months

Note

If you are open to requests, I would like to request anything with Fae!Hyrule or maybe a feral Fae!Hyrule (follows classic Fae rules, protect your name, don’t thank a Fae, don’t make a deal, etc) , or even a cute fluffy Fae!Hyrule X Reader fic. There just isn’t enough fairy Hyrule, especially X reader fics, they are practically nonexistent. I just read your last post of a fairy/malice Hyrule X reader and am hooked. Your previous work has fed my obsession, thank you 🙏 .

Order up!

Sorry that this ended up taking so long! Just wanted to make sure everything worked out. This unintentionally got really long and i didn’t wanna convolute things as I intend to do. Special thanks to @litrllyvoid who proofread this.

Hope you enjoy~

tw: Dementia loosely described

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝

Your mother always told you that you were blessed. You’d watch from your little stool as she weaved her fabrics, shuttle passing through the rungs of yarn with precision. Her words were low and hushed, embellishing every word with an air of mystery. You were six months old, she said. The forests were cold and menacing as they still were, and within those woods, she sung. An odd act many of the people now would warn against for the very same reason she did it. The fae. Tricksters of the woods with sharp tongues and sly deals, your mother had them bless you. Now, you see the price. While you never were injured as a child and never fell ill, your mother took the brunt of your illnesses. She sat now in her rocking chair, hands too worn to use her loom as her mind withers. Wrapped in the great blankets she used to weave, she doesn’t remember that she made them. She doesn’t recall who she used to be. You read her books about the fae sometimes and her tall tale is all she ever mentions anymore. The small smile she has is all that’s left of her —truly her— anymore. So, with a book, a green cloak and some payment, you set off into the forest with the hopes of recovering what’s since been lost.

You’ve since grown increasingly thankful for your cloak, the furry lining keeping you blessedly warm as the fog only grows thicker and thicker. The light begins to dwindle from your path despite it only being sometime around noon. The birds are gone now. Their chitters and chortles are replaced by wind whispers and the quiet sway of your breath. You stop at an odd formation of rocks stuck in the ground, crocus and clover flowers blooming around the edge of each rock that forms the circle. Carefully you step in, leaving a velvet bag of silver coins as payment for your intrusion. The air stands still and the humidity increases, each breath uncomfortable.

“Hello there” The voice is as cautious as you feel, and yet clearer than your vision at the moment. You turn to see a thin, scruffy looking boy, brown-blonde waves of hair tousled like a sea of their own. His head is tilted to the side, hazel eyes combing over you carefully. He holds out a hand in expectations. You hesitate as you hand him the bag, especially as his thin lips twitch towards a frown. “I do not want your money” He shakes his head, his nose crinkling at its bridge.

“Wh-“ You turn fully now to face him and he doesn’t feel as scary as the stories paint his kind to be, perhaps that makes them even more terrifying. “Then what do you want?” His lips part to a tight smile, the edges of his teeth showing, you can’t tell from where you stand if they’re pointed.

“Your mother could sing, couldn’t she?” A chill skitters down your spine as his deceptively innocent voice calls. You don’t even dignify him with a response, suddenly feeling unwelcome on the grass you stand. “My mentor actually dealt with it— not me” He chuckles at the end of his words, complimenting them like birdsong does to sunrise. “We love a good song you know” You can’t for the life of you tell what it’s supposed to mean, what he intends behind the simple words. And yet his pointed ears wiggle as he smiles reassuringly, as if you weren’t bargaining over a life.

“That’s the thing-“ You choke over the words, feeling yourself root down to your cause. “She’s unwell because-“ Looking at his curious eyes picking you apart, you feel bad at the sentiments you hold. It feels as if your mind is being mixed, and yet there’s nothing apparently wrong. “Because of the deal. I want to know how to fix it.” You’re unsure exactly of how you managed to keep your voice so even, but the boy in front of you buys into it. He nods in acknowledgement before his lips pursed, his sharp cupid bow shifting.

“An eye for an eye” The wind picks up, ruffling the trees. Suddenly the small boy in front of you no longer feels nearly as harmless. “A life for a life, one must understand.” His eyes close and he sinks in on his feet, speaking so calmly of mortality. Truly because his kind holds so much over it “To save yours, she sacrificed her own. That cannot be easily undone” His words make you sink as well. Nothing to be done. Not even for the ones who’ve done it. “Be not afraid. There is a solution” His smile is back, tight and lacking the warmth of a human. “A life for a life.” He giggles, as if the words were funny “Say you managed to bear me a child- Oh that won’t do. Too cliche. And horribly disrespectful” A freckled hand curls around the base of his chin as he ponders. “Are you unwed?” His eyes glint with a silvery light that you failed to see before. In the pure shock of the moment, you shake your head, shuffling back slightly. “Really? Wow- Sorry. If you are willing to spend the remainder of your life with me, I will save your mother. Only if we are married —wholly married, not simply for the sake of the spell— then will I save your mother. You'll still be able to visit and what not, but you'll live with me, as is proper.” He holds a hand out to you, and your fingers twitch at your side.

“Uh-“ You sip in some of the uncomfortably humid air and feel your head get lighter. An eye for an eye. Your life for hers. She was a good woman, one of unfortunate circumstances. Feeling calloused hand meet your own sealed your fate to something you could only hope to be respectable. The fae aren’t known for breaking deals. Nor are they known for breaking their pacts. Till death do you part, afterall.

#yandere link x reader #linked universe #link x reader #yan!link #yandere linked universe #lu x reader #fae!hyrulexreader #fae!hyrule

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aromanticbuck · 4 months

Text

Crochet Commissions!

For those who don't know me, I'm Alex (she/they), and I started the year off with Covid. Because I had to take two weeks off work, I'm really hurting for money right now, so I'm opening up a limited number of slots for crochet commissions to try to fill in that financial gap.

ALL of the materials I use are machine washer/dryer safe

Pictures of my recent work and prices are below. Including: stuffed animals, dice bags, holiday stockings, blankets. As well as: shipping info, custom request info.

For further questions or to request a commission: message me here or email me at [email protected]

When I did my poll, most people voted for stuffed animals, and I recently finished a few that I can show my skills with. The blue penguin is my latest finished piece, with the purple penguin the first thing I ever crocheted side-by-side for comparison of how much I've learned in the last ~7 months. The mouse is technically unfinished because the eyes aren't embroidered yet, but I made it in about a day and a half, for timeline purposes.

I also just finished the above dice bag octopus about an hour ago for my roommate, which took about three hours of non-stop work (I turned on a movie and got through the stitches pretty quick). I can make them in any color you want, with either the plastic safety eyes or embroidered eyes. Most of these can be entirely customizable, just let me know what you're thinking and I'll see what I can do!

Dice bags: $10 + $5 domestic (US) shipping Stuffed animals: $15 + $5 domestic (US) shipping optional crinkle filling (washer/dryer safe): + $2 (stuffed animals only)

10 slots total (4 REMAINING)

I don't have any pictures of any of the hats or scarves I've made because it's been a few years, but I made some stockings for the apartment for Christmas last month, and that's one of my most recent projects. The green one was the last one I made, and probably the most accurate to what my capabilities are now.

If you'd like a stocking for Christmas 2024, let me know! I have an unlimited number of slots for them as the holiday is far enough away that the time crunch isn't so rough.

Hats: $20 + $5 domestic (US) shipping Scarves: $30 + $5 domestic (US) shipping Holiday stocking: $24 + $5 domestic (US) shipping

5 total wearable (hats/scarves) slots

The least popular item in my poll was the blankets, which I understand. And I'm only going to open one slot for them at a time because they take so long and so much yarn to make. The wave pattern (both blankets pictured above) is my favorite to do, but I have patterns for most simple designs, or I can likely easily google it and put it together for you. Prices are based on the time and materials these take to make, but because they're so much more expensive than the smaller items above, domestic (US) shipping is free.

Baby blanket (top left): $50 Throw blanket/afghan: $100 Full size (length shown in bottom picture): $200

1 blanket slot (0 REMAINING)

Custom requests:

If there's a pattern you've found on Etsy/Pinterest/etc that you want made, contact me by using the contact information above. We can discuss prices or my ability to accomplish that for you. ***patterns must be CROCHET patterns as I do not knit (yet)*** 5 custom slots total

International shipping:

Let me know when you request a commission where you are located, as shipping prices vary wildly from country to country. I'll go over the actual cost with you before you commit to the commission and make sure the price works for both of us.

Current open slots:

Stuffed animals and dice bags: 1. [FILLED] 2. [FILLED] 3. [FILLED] 4. [FILLED] 5. [FILLED] 6. [FILLED] 7. [OPEN] 8. [OPEN] 9. [OPEN] 10. [OPEN]

Wearables: 1. [OPEN] 2. [OPEN] 3. [OPEN] 4. [OPEN] 5. [OPEN]

Stockings: [NO LIMIT]

Blankets: 1. [FILLED]

Custom requests: 1. [OPEN] 2. [OPEN] 3. [OPEN] 4. [OPEN] 5. [OPEN]

#crochet #commissions #crochet commission #crochet commissions #yarnworks #yarncrafts #yarn craft #yarn work #crochet art #crochet stuffed animals #crochet dice bag #crochet blanket

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