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azsazz · 3 months

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Midnight Muse (Part 15)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: Mentions of throwing up, doesn't actually happen.

Word Count: 4,008

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Masterlist]

Notes: ENJOY. Also, someone plz tell me they got tagged this time 😭

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Everything fucking hurts.

Your head is throbbing like someone is repeatedly hitting you with a hammer. You can’t even open your eyes because the dots of light in your vision are swimming in circles, and you’re pretty sure if you crack your eyes open and squint into the room you’ll surely lose the contents of your stomach, which is still mostly alcohol from last night.

You groan in agony because it’s the only thing you can do. Curling in further on yourself, you tug the covers up over your head, trying to block as much of the sun, creeping steadily in through the windows, as you can.

A deep inhale to try and ease your stomach brings along the scent of freshness; like night-chilled mist and cedar. The smell is so perfectly balanced, familiar and fresh in your aching lungs that it almost lulls you back to sleep. It’s effortlessly masculine and with another luxurious inhale, your brain connects the scent to its familiarity. It’s the same as the soap you’d used when you were forced to stay the night at the apartment next door, while Feyre and Rhysand had been having their public nudy show in your living room.

You want to snuggle into it, wallow in its comfort all day, but your mind is quickly catching up to you, running that specific thought back a second time, but slower.

It smells like the same soap you’d used when you were at Azriel’s apartment after the rainstorm.

Your eyes snap open and your body jolts into an upright position that makes your stomach roil, shoving your head down between your knees.

Fuck. You drank way too much last night.

You blink away the bleariness, the dizziness from your vision, staring down at your lap. You’re still wearing the clothes you’d ambled over to Cassian’s party in, and the fabric sticks to your skin uncomfortably. You feel like shit all around, sick from the alcohol, dirty from the night spent dancing and sweating, and you’re pretty sure your breath smells like you’d licked the floor of the local dive bar.

Another blink brings the sheets into focus, certainly ones that are not yours. These are a deep charcoal color, softer and smoother than anything you’ve ever touched. The thread count must be in the thousands. The mattress beneath your aching body feels like a cloud, and all of the effort that went into curating such a lovely bed surely shouldn’t be wasted.

You’re impressed for all of a few seconds until you lift your head and realize where you are.

Azriel’s room.

It’s easy to tell because your memories of last night slowly roll in like flipping through pages of your sketchbook.

“Look,” Cassian grunts as you stumble again and he has to put you on your feet again. He’s faring slightly better than you right now, but only because there are women to flirt with. “I know our friendship is still kind of new, but if you keep hanging all over me like this you’re going to scare away the ladies.”

You can’t help but to laugh. It feels good, so good that your chest aches with it. Your cheeks are red with drink, and Cassian hasn’t ever seen you grinning so much.

It kind of scares him.

“Where are your keys?” he continues, his hands warm on your hips where he’s trying to keep you from falling flat on your face. Maybe that last shot you’d taken together had been one too many. “Can I pat down your pockets?”

“I know you wanna feel me up, Cass,” you slur playfully, and his name sounds snake-like, with the way you drag out the S.

“Of course I do, (Y/N), any man would be stupid not to want you,” he comments but his words don’t register because the floor is slipping out from under your feet again.

“Feyre has the keys,” you hiccup. Then, “Are we on a roller coaster? The room is spinning.”

Cassian curses, poking his head out of the crowd to search for your missing roommate. She’s with Rhys, no doubt, but he doesn’t see them in the mass of bodies crowding his apartment. What he does see are a lot of disappointed, single women.

He gestures to you and then slices his hand under his chin in a cutting motion, signaling that he’s not with you, even though you’ve wilted against his chest, rubbing your cheek into the soft fabric of his shirt. Cassian watches his message land, their eyes sparkling in intrigue again, and he doesn’t care, he needs to get you somewhere safe so he can take that pretty brunette and her friend to his room.

The safest place in the apartment he knows is Azriel’s room.

“Oh my fucking Gods,” you groan, holding your head when your curse rings in your ears. Of course you’re in Azriel’s room, because you’re fated to end up in situations that will make him hate you even more.

Slowly, you shove the blankets away, slipping your legs over the edge of the bed. The good news is, you feel like you’ve slept for a hundred hours. The other good thing is that you didn’t throw up anywhere in his room that you can see, or smell.

The bad news is that you don’t know where Azriel is.

But at least he’s not currently here to witness you rising from the dead.

Blindly, you reach for you phone, patting across the table next to the bed. In the back of your throat sits a lump that you consciously work to swallow down. Later, you might regret not purging the rest of the sickness from your body, but the last place you want to do that is here, in Azriel’s room. What the fuck did you end up drinking last night? You remember the flaming shots and Cassian throwing out a partygoer who looked awfully familiar.

Then there had been Mor, who had told you all about Rhysand growing up over a few drinks. The longer Cassian had forced the two of you to talk, presumably so he could sneak off to flirt with girls while you were distracted with each other, the more Rhysand’s cousin seemed to relax. Those cutting looks had turned from pinning you to your spot to glaring at any of the girls who came up to the both of you to ask about the hosts of the party.

Mor’s stories had you seeing your roommate’s boyfriend in a different light. And the embarrassing ones were even better. Like the one time they had gone sledding down the slope of Mor’s family home in Colorado. It had been a steep incline and they’d been warned many times not to go down there, but the fresh snow had been all too tantalizing not to.

Their punishment had been to walk back up the hill to the house, and when they were small the trek felt like it was ten thousand steps high. And they had to carry their sleds behind them. Rhysand had thrown up halfway and Mor had gotten sick from the tears of laughter streaming down her face afterwards.

Cassian’s words cut through the smile trying to sluice across your face. Azriel had said something about a date. Your stomach revolts but you don’t know why. The thought of Azriel missing out on one of Cassian’s parties doesn’t seem out of character for the broody man, but going on a date? This is the first you’ve heard about Azriel doing so. You know much more than you’d like to know about his roommates’ sexual lives, but you didn’t think Azriel was even open to going out. You don’t know why you care.

You don’t.

It doesn’t sound as convincing as it may have once been.

He’s ridiculously attractive, so why wouldn’t he be going on dates? He probably has a plethora of phone numbers from girls begging to go out with him. So many that it makes your teeth grind at the thought.

Your fingers connect with your phone and your head throbs at the brightness of your screen, rivaling the sun’s rays spearing through the blinds.

And then you see the time.

“Shit,” you curse, scrambling for the shoes someone had kindly taken off for you. They’re piled at the foot of the bed.

You’re late for class.

Gods, you don’t remember the last time you drank like this. Must have been sometime last year because even with all the wine you’d consumed during your pottery painting with Feyre, Cassian, and Rhysand, you hadn’t felt this badly. This is a next level hangover.

You brace yourself when your hand lands on the doorknob to his room. There’s a lock and it’s flipped shut, so you turn it back carefully, breathing a sigh of relief when the click is quiet.

You freeze in your tracks, breath catching in your throat when you slide the door open.

Azriel is lying on the couch, his body splayed out in a long line. His shirt has risen from where he’s lifted his arm, resting it over his eyes to block the sun coming in through the windows, revealing the cut of his hips. There’s two tattoos painted on the skin that you hadn’t noticed the other night, a pair of feathered wings lining the defining muscle of his hips.

You lick your lips before realizing that in the quiet of the apartment, Azriel is fast asleep. The steady rise and fall of his chest helps give him away. That, and the fact that he’s not snarking at you or shooting daggers in your direction.

It’s your saving grace.

The coffee table shoved in front of the couch is littered with cups and rolling paper wrappers, alcohol spilled across its surface. You have no idea how the glass tabletop has survived the rowdy part unscathed, because you’re pretty sure there was one point in the night where you saw a girl standing on top of it, readying herself to fall into the crowd of people congregated in the living room.

The floor is much the same, and you feel like you’re walking a minefield as you tiptoe around questionable puddles and garbage. The stench of alcohol in the air makes your head spin, your stomach protesting and you press a hand to it, trying to comfort the ache.

You escape the apartment without waking Azriel, breathing a sigh of relief that has the remainders of your final drink swimming up your throat.

You make a run for your apartment next door, and thankfully, Feyre answers your knocking.

You don’t like the knowing look she’s wearing, but she doesn’t pester you while you make a break for the bathroom.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Surprisingly, it doesn’t take you long to get ready for class.

You’d told Feyre to go on ahead without you when she had knocked softly on the door while you had your head in the toilet, but the sound still clanged through your head like a gong. She was going to get coffee with Rhysand before class and asked if you wanted anything, to which you gratefully accepted.

Even though you have plans to meet Lucien at the coffeehouse for a drink, you need something now or you’re afraid that you won’t make it through the day.

As badly as you want to go and be a hermit in bed all day, you don’t want to miss your classes. Alis is bringing in another model and grading what you come up with in class, and you don’t want to be docked points for missing out.

Your other class for the day is Art History, and you need to show up to be able to drink in as much of the different styles of art as possible.

Dressing quickly, your clothes stick to your freshly-showered skin. You shove a baseball cap over your hair because while you had the time to wash your body, your hair had been left neglected until later tonight.

Slinging your backpack over your shoulder, you snag your sketchbook from your desk, shoving all of the loose papers hanging out the edges inside. It’s a haphazard job at best, but you’re already running too late for your liking, and you can organize them later.

Like as you wait for the Gods-awful elevator your apartment building has.

The queasiness in your stomach has gone down but the piece of toast you’d forced yourself to eat threatens to come right back up when you spot Azriel, his own backpack slung over his shoulder, waiting for the elevator.

You can still turn around and hide away, there’s definitely still time to—of course he’s turning around at the sound of your approaching footsteps.

His golden eyes glitter with amusement and you can’t shove away the shiver that slides down your spine like a paint filled brush as he trails you from head to toe.

“Sleep well?” He asks gruffly, and the sound of his voice makes your knees weak. Tripping on your next step, your sketchbook goes flying from your hands, spilling the loose papers you’d just stuffed in there everywhere.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you can hear Azriel curse in surprise, but you feel the hot mortification slicing through your body. There are sketches of his hands fluttering to the ground. Ones you had drawn while working on your last project for Alis’ class, the one where you drew Leonardo’s Study of Hands. Azriel’s had been your inspiration, and there’s sketches of them in all sorts of poses, some more promiscuous than others, and you’re completely fucking mortified.

You drop to your knees, face burning red as you scoop the papers closer to you, praying that he doesn’t see. Azriel’s already crouching down with you, helping gather some of the drawings, and the fact that this is the first time he’s ever seen any of your work is overshadowed by the fact that there’s a piece of thick drawing paper right next to his boot. It’s creased from its fall, half of it turned up at an angle. You can see the wavy lines you’d tried so hard to recreate from memory. If he picks that up and looks at it you will have to transfer schools.

“Don’t touch that,” you almost screech when his fingers close around the edge of the paper. You watch it in slow motion, the clench of his jaw, the way that his eyes flick down to his hands, marred flesh fully on display. Oh Gods, you think you might throw up all over again. He thinks you mean that you don’t want him to touch your things because of his fucking hands. Your throat tightens, heart beating so fast in your chest that you’re sure it’s going to burst through your skin. Quickly, trying to rectify yourself, you plead, “No.” Your voice cracks around the lump forming but you shove past it. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Azriel’s face is tight as he stands. You scramble, collecting your papers into your arms. He towers over you, even standing, and you don’t like the flicker of muscle in his jaw because he’s clenching his teeth so hard.

You don’t like the shadows writhing through the gold of his eyes, molten with anger.

He hands out the papers he’s picked up and an apology is on the tip of your tongue. Reaching out, you’re just about to grasp them, croak out a thank you, when Azriel drops them.

You watch them flutter to the ground again. The elevator dings and the doors squeal open, but you can’t stop staring at the paper on the ground now. You swallow hard, the mortification bubbling into annoyance.

Azriel’s boots twist in your vision and he enters the elevator without another word.

Your eyes prickle but you don’t know why. The breaths you’re releasing through your nose to keep calm are harsh and shaky. Like Azriel’s hands. You need to go to class, and he can fuck off now.

You dip down and snatch the papers from the hall floor, not caring if they get crumpled in your haste. The doors of the elevator begin wheeling shut but you slip through before they can shut completely, trapping you inside with Azriel.

The tiny, metal box that grinds down the elevator shaft is filled to the brim with tension. You can feel the stiffness wafting off of Azriel’s body, though he’s leaning against the wall like he doesn’t have a care in the world, head currently buried in his phone.

Your anger emits in waves, and you feel like you’re drowning in it. What you had said came out the wrong way. You had in no way meant it in the way that you didn’t want his hands touching your work, but the way you’d seen Azriel go preternaturally still, something flash in his eyes, still makes you sick to your stomach. You want to cry, because they’re not tainted in the least. If anything, his hands are the most beautiful hands you’ve ever seen, imperfect yet so, so perfect.

Of course he had retaliated in the way that he did. You would’ve misconstrued the comment as well, but there’s an itch on your side that tells you he didn’t have to react like that, throwing your papers back to the ground. Another misunderstanding between the two of you.

You open your mouth to speak, but there’s a screeching that’s more horrible than it usually is, and the elevator is jerking to a grinding halt.

You stumble a little, and Azriel steadies you before removing his hands just as quickly. His brows are pinched and the lights in the tiny space flicker before going out completely.

“What the fuck?” You question, pitched higher because of your nerves. You’re stuck, the elevator has stopped working and you’re stuck in it with Azriel. “Oh my Gods, we’re trapped!”

Azriel grunts, punching the buttons on the door. An emergency light flickers on, casting the metal box in a low, fluorescent light. Nothing that he’s doing works, and you’re officially beginning to freak out.

You watch Azriel try to pry the doors open, but even with the bulging of his biceps he’s no match for the metal jaws of death.

Throwing a look over his shoulder, he says, “What are you standing around for, princess? Call the fire department or something.”

“Right,” you respond weakly, pulling your attention from his muscular form. The dispatch is nice about it, sending someone your way and all you have to do is stay calm and await assistance. “Thanks, “ you reply to her, hanging up the phone and turning back to Azriel. “So we wait.”

He looks like he wants to ask more questions, but he nods instead, sinking down and making himself comfortable against the wall. Looking up at you expectantly, you sigh, dropping your bag from your shoulder and collapsing to the floor across from him.

His legs are so long they nearly stretch across the entire elevator, and you can’t help but follow the path back to his eyes, glowing as he watches you. You avert your gaze as quickly as possible.

You don’t know how long it will take for the fire department to get here, so you shoot a quick text to Feyre with your predicament, letting her know that you won’t be able to make it to class and to give your coffee away. Then you send a sad emoji because you really, really needed that caffeine.

Across from you, Azriel’s phone buzzes. He reads it, and then his eyes flicker up to yours in a glare.

“Cassian seems to think that this is funny,” he says, and you don’t know why the deep timber of his voice feels like fingers brushing across your skin. “Why did you tell them?”

“I texted Feyre,” you huff defensively. Crossing your arms over your chest, you level him with your own glare. “I don’t control who she tells.”

Azriel rolls his eyes, shutting off his screen.

It’s silent for a long time. There are no sounds coming from outside of the elevator, and you wonder if anyone has even noticed that it’s trapped. The godsdamned thing takes so long to arrive at any floor that you think most patrons take the stairs now, or give in when the elevator of doom never reached their floor.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, mostly to break the silence. Azriel raises a straight brow and you flush. Sheepishly, you continue. “I didn’t mean what I said in the hall like that. I just—I didn’t want you to see my sketches.”

It’s the most you can give him without spilling the truth of exactly what the drawings were.

Azriel’s jaw works, and it looks like he’s contemplating something important, with the way he’s assessing you. Maybe he’s trying to read if you’re telling the truth, if your apology is sincere or not. The intensity of his eyes makes you want to pull your hat down over your own face to hide it from sight.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” He surprises you by asking.

Your lips part in shock. “What?”

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” He asks again, because he doesn't know how he can word the question any differently.

The question throws you. Azriel’s ignored your apology, and instead he’s asking what you’re doing tomorrow night? Has the elevator getting stuck somehow transported you into the Twilight Zone? Is this even really Azriel sitting here with you?

“Um…nothing?” you respond, and he quirks a brow.

“Is that a question or an answer, princess?”

“An answer. I’m doing nothing. Why?”

He shrugs nonchalantly, tipping his head back to rest against the wall, as if he’s contemplating even finishing his question. He looks ever the picture of nonchalance, but what you can’t see is the way he’s curling his fingers to stop their trembling, the rapid beating of his heart.

“I’m having an exhibition tomorrow night. Would you like to join me?”

What? You’re even more dumbfounded now than if that had been the end of the conversation. An exhibition? Tomorrow night? And he’s asking you of all people?

“Who are you and what have you done with my douchebag neighbor?” you ask, shifting in your spot.

A wry smile cracks his mouth and it makes your heart flutter. “Still here, princess.”

Your mouth twists sourly at the nickname. “Let me get this straight. You want me to go to an exhibition with you tomorrow night?”

“Yes,” Azriel nods, agreeing with the echo of his words you’ve just replayed back to him.

“Why don’t you ask your roommates to go with you?”

“They don’t know about it.”

Huh. You don’t know why Azriel wouldn’t invite Cassian or Rhysand to an exhibition he’s having. Well, you could see Cassian wreaking havoc and drinking too much champagne, but Rhys? It seems like the perfect spot for someone like him.

You mull it over, analyzing him. Azriel waits patiently as you study his eyes. The gold is bright under these lights, looking like two golden bars of sun. He’s never been easy to read, and even right now, as you’re trying with all of your might, you can’t find any flicker of anything that tells you this may be a joke.

You tut, crossing your arms over your chest to stop yourself from wringing your fingers in your lap. “Why me?”

“No one better to go with than someone I’m not trying to impress,” Azriel answers seriously. And, he has a point there. You won’t have to hold back from telling him your honest opinion of his work.

You hope that he’s terrible at art, but you have a feeling he’s anything but.

“That doesn’t give me a lot of time to find something to wear.”

His eyes flash and you wish you knew why.

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s not a no.”

Azriel nods, and that’s that. “I’ll pick you up tomorrow at eight, then.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Midnight Muse Taglist: @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r

If you are not being tagged, please make sure that your account can be tagged, you can do this by going to “account settings -> general settings -> mentions -> who can mention (your username)”

#midnight muse #tattoo artist!azriel #artist!azriel #art school au #acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel au

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signedkoko · 2 months

Note

You are such a sweetie! Since your requests are open, if you feel inspired and motivated by this (otherwise you can 100% ignore it, writing is hard - I know), could I request a one-shot for Vox who falls in love with a imp!reader? Would love to see how you write their "forbidden" love, how would Vox feel and what if the other Vee's found out about it. It doesn't have to be a story, you can do it in headcannon format if you feel like it suits better! Just try to have fun ♡ -Nia

Intern [Romantic]

In which the techy overlord falls for one of his new hellborn employees, much to his dismay. Reader is genderneutral.

Song - Break My Heart by Dua Lipa

Any hellborn would die for the opportunity that graced you. Well, graced was not the right word; you fought for months against many candidates, beefed up your resume, and pulled some strings to get an unpaid internship for the Vee's. More specifically, a three-month internship at VoxTek with the potential to be hired in immediately after.

It was a position people could only dream of, especially hellborn. Sinner-based companies had a tendency to place sinners above hellborns, but you knew that and used it to your advantage. You couldn't go in as equal; you had to know you were less and make up for it.

The job itself wasn't all that bad, either. It was a lot of unpaid hours, from the crack of dawn to the dip of the sun or later, but it mostly involved the small details. Coffee, sorting, and delivering mail between sections were hard to mess up.

There was the rare extra task where someone messed up and they needed someone to cover quickly.

Today was one of those days. You were at the right place at the right time, sitting by the coffee machine, grabbing yourself your first cup of the day.

That was when he entered, his shoes tapping on the floor with confident clicks, and when he spoke it commanded attention.

Mostly because he spoke through every speaker in the building at once.

"Who here can follow me? No questions asked."

Before anyone could chime in, his monitor did a full rotation of the room, his eyes narrowing when they landed on you.

Your ear piece buzzed to life.

"You, follow me. Now." The overlord spoke directly into your ear using the device, and knowing this may be an opportunity of a lifetime, you followed.

There was no question about who it was: a monitor for a head, control of all technology, and a towering seven feet tall. Vox was the top of the top, and it was hard to believe you were allowed to so much as stand next to him.

It was hard to keep up with his speed-walking pace, but he eventually led you into the mail elevator, hitting the twelfth floor while he muttered something about incompetence amongst hires and how he always had to take control of every production if he wanted it done right.

With a ding and the slow release of the elevator doors, he took the lead once more, though this time he was walking slower and backwards, navigating with ease despite looking directly at you.

"Alrighty intern, ready for your shot at becoming something more? Because our previous voiceover person just walked out on us, and now you'll be covering for them." He stopped with his back against a door, grabbing the handle and awaiting your reply.

"But I only just spoke to..."

"You're cute, you know that? How many videos do you think are out there with your voice? I listened to them all the moment I saw you." Vox only smiled wider when his words sunk in; he saw the usual flash of embarrassment as you pondered what he might have seen. Without waiting any longer, he pushed the door open, spinning so he was finally walking normally.

It was a recording studio, and there were several other employees waiting, mostly those handling the recording equipment and some holding papers.

Vox sat himself in a comfortable rolling chair in front of the glass window that overlooked the recording studio, spinning to hand you some papers that he took from a demon next to him.

"Here is your script; all you have to do is read. Make it sound exciting! Something new, something beyond anyone's imagination, is now available to the public!" He put on a voice as he continued, demonstrating what he hoped you could manage. Someone ushered you into the booth and plopped some headphones over your ears.

"From the top! 3...2..."

The whole process was a thrill, but you managed to run over the script in three separate recordings, of which Vox cited them all as 'stunning' or 'absolutely perfect!', though the producer claimed to need multiple for any potential recording malfunctions.

For an overlord, he had been oddly kind and encouraging throughout the process, and he walked you out himself when everything wrapped up.

Vox continued to speak about what the script was for and how excited he was for the launch, all while leading you through parts of the building you had never been to before. You thought after that he would have sent you back down and forgotten everything, but eventually you found yourself in front of your supervisor.

"Vox! Sir- oh no, had our intern upset you?"

"No, no, not at all. Sorry, what was your name again? Ally? Yeah, listen, Ally, I need you to handle the paperwork they were assigned. Oh! And I want them promoted to my personal studio for tomorrow, too."

Before you or the sinner could ask questions, Vox was already out of there, chipper as ever.

That evening, you went home with an upgraded badge and access card, along with details on your new position and expectations. It was a lot to get through, but you felt extremely proud of yourself for doing so well. Hell, you met THE Vox, and he wanted you to be the voice of VoxTek?

While flipping through the pile of information, the most surprising aspect was the six-figure salary you were about to get started on.

. . .

Surrounded by monitors, Vox watched various camera feeds as they traced your steps home. Vox saw you smile from several angles, the electricity between his antennae flickering. Each monitor had some kind of file or piece of information on you, and he was only pulled out of his trance when he got a call from Velvette.

"Hello there, Velvette! What can I help you with today?" Leaning back in his chair, the overlord flicked his wrist, which shot the call from his monitor onto one of the many others displaying you.

"I need your guys for a sh- wait. Vox, what the fuck is all of that?" While the fashionista originally had her eyes elsewhere, her gaze quickly fixed on his background, which was quickly followed by all the screens going blank with his logo.

"That? Oh, oh no, its nothing at a-"

"That's the imp you were talking about last week! The one you were trying to get to apply to VoxTek!"

"Well, maybe, but-"

Once again, she cut him off with a gurgling groan.

"Listen, I don't care who or what you fuck; just get your camera crew here and we'll talk about this later. Kay? Kisses!" Before she abruptly hung up on him, he could have sworn he heard a small 'at least they're hot' before the call disconnected.

Tensed from the interaction, Vox could only groan and dramatically fall back into his chair, tapping his claws along the armrest.

So what if he scouted you out? You didn't know that, and you were happy about it anyway! One by one, each monitor opened back up on your data, the overlord grinning.

It was better this way; everyone would think it was the intern going after him, so nobody knew one of the top overlords in hell was dotting on some helpless imp.

Author's Note - I love Vox so much...hes so obsessive but he denies every accusation (its the same w Alastor lmao) like its going to hurt him! But thank you so much for the request Nia, I hope this interests you 🖤

Word Count - 1,219

#koko writez #hazbin hotel #helluva boss #hazbin hotel x reader #helluva boss x reader #reader insert #x reader #vox #vox x reader

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sunkissed-zegras · 4 days

Note

fluffy blurb with luke hughes !!!

─ warnings | fluffy af! just lukey being pookie (as always), luke trying to learn how to braid hair is such a funny concept HAHAH

"wait, wait. i don't get it, this doesn't make any sense." luke's voice came out frustrated as you let out a soft laugh at your boyfriend. luke's hands were in your hair as you explained to him how to braid hair.

since he doesn't have any sisters, the whole "braiding hair" thing was a mystery to him until he started dating you. and now, he was completely dead-set on learning how to braid hair so that on days when you felt tired, he could do it for you.

"okay, okay, slow down," he muttered, his brows furrowed in concentration. "explain it again. slower, this time."

"okay, so, you take this strand over here and cross it over the middle one," you explained patiently, feeling his fingers fumbling slightly. "then, you take the other one and do the same thing. like you know, a rope!"

after a few more attempts, luke finally managed to weave a somewhat passable braid, albeit with a few loose strands sticking out here and there. he grinned triumphantly, looking at his handiwork with pride. "hey, not bad for a first-timer, right?" he said, a hint of excitement in his voice.

you looked in the mirror behind you and grinned at the curly-head. "wait, why is it so cute. do i look like katniss everdeen?"

"hell yeah you do!" luke grinned excitedly as you examined the braid. "whoa, i am such a fast learner. sit down, baby i gotta take a picture and send it to quinn and jack."

"why?" you laughed as luke practically pushed you back on to the bed.

"because they were convinced that braiding was too hard for me to learn," luke took out his phone and snapped a picture, his proud grin still evident on his face.

you chuckled at Luke's eagerness, shaking your head in amusement as he snapped away with his phone. "alright, alright, send it to them then,"

luke quickly typed out a message to his brothers, attaching the photo of your braided hair. as he hit send, he couldn't contain his excitement, practically bouncing with joy. "they're gonna be so surprised but i proved them wrong,"

you couldn't help but laugh, luke was such so adorable. "yeah you did," you said, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately.

luke gripped your wrists playfully and pushed you back, "not the curls! anything but the curls!"

you let out a playful gasp as luke defended his precious curls, pretending to shield them from harm. "okay, okay, i'll leave the curls alone," you teased, raising your hands in surrender.

luke grinned, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "that's what i thought," he said, releasing your wrists and pulling you into a tight embrace instead.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

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thechekhov · 3 months

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Dungeon Meshi Quick Reacts: CH45

Slumber party!

Fair, but consider: She deserves a little murder. As a treat.

Kabru be like "IS THAT MY BACKSTORY???"

That sure is....a ship. With no one on it.

Ah, shit the Americans are here.

Two things: Toshiro being tended to like a pretty pretty princess is hilarious.

And also, the fact that they think the elves can kill Falin......... hmmm.... Pressing X to doubt.

............... oh. Laios. 😂

But also like. How was he MEANT to keep it silent? Put a little something in it? I thought since it was a magic bell you could code it to only ring when it's shaken with INTENT?

Fancy ass house.

Also, Namari...........are you hitting that yet? Both of that?

Oh, it's backstory time.

Okay one: that's fucking tragic, it sounds like the Elves are just forcing the dungeons closed with no regard for how the ecosystem compensates and what people suffer by being in close proximity......

And another thing: Kabru. Kabru, isn't that what YOU'RE after? Having all the power?

Why is this so much like that one meme where the girls at the party are looking at you.

It's the same picture.

Kabru that's. That's maybe not the way to go about it. you're going to give them MORE reasons to go in.

Nevermind the governor not being into this 'good boy, now sign' talk, Toshiro's kinda right. Ya fucked up Kabru.

No matter how far Laios runs, he cannot escape other people trying to tell him how to live his life. Poor guy. But at the same time...

Is this real? Or a red herring?

Laios' father and mother seemed to be living relatively pious lives. They clearly had a good house, but it didn't seem like they were extremely rich. Then again, perhaps he's just a cousin of royalty? Is that why his parents wanted him to have children?

They want to.... halt the growth of the dungeon? Is this another part of the natural ecosystem of things? Dungeons growing seems to point even more towards the idea that it's a gigantic, fleshpit-like creature instead of simply a construct.

Then again, constructs CAN be creatures. Like the golems.

Elves not understanding how old humans are continues to be hilarious because like.

As humans, we HAVE this same concept of variant aging. Like. Dogs. We understand that dogs live less than us, and mature a lot slower. But this is.... COMMON KNOWLEDGE. Most people do not make it into adulthood without understanding that dogs mature within 1-2 years of their birth.

The fact that elves, a species with FAR more time on their hands, who have lived alongside other races for AGES....... have STILL not got the general concept of aging down....means their education is atrocious. Or they're all not paying attention.

.......this. THIS is the most fascinating concept in this chapter.

The fallen.... turned into MONSTERS.

We know that dying inside the dungeon doesn't mean permanent death. But dying above-ground does.

We know that dying in the dungeon doesn't mean your body turns into a monster (aside from ghosts and ghouls?) ..... but dying aboveground.... DOES......?

WHAT'S THE TRUTH.

👁👁

Hm.

If Kabru and Laios fused, they could almost make one functioning human being.

Senshi just beginning to speak in the middle of his own internal monologue is so real.

...... what's going on there with the expression, buddy?

Bread.......are they STILL carrying around flour with them?! How are they getting bread?!

Also, it's awesome that the eggs are canonically hard to crack, because it makes sense that they don't break during their many fighting events.

Izutsumi really said ◉_◉

Don't tell me Laios, who is sensitive to ghosts has ALSO been seeing things?

Not gonna lie, that's highkey terrifying.

Props to that ghost that's been following Laios around, not ever giving up hope that it can bother him into acknowledging it.

And also - hey, it already saved them once! that means it's probably not evil!

That, or it's the king of the bloody dungeon. Wouldn't that be something!

#dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi quick reacts #dungeon meshi liveblog #chekhov reads dungeon meshi

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year

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Porcelain Steve - Part 2

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five🦇Part Six🦇Part Seven🦇Part Eight🦇Part Nine

There's commotion from the house, loud enough for Eddie and Robin to hear it outside. Both turn towards the house, Robin halfway to standing up already, and the door is pushed open, El falling through it to get outside.

Someone calls El's name from inside, but she doesn't even turn around. She marches across the lawn to Eddie and Robin. "They are too loud and angry in there. Take me somewhere else."

Joyce makes it out the door next and with a raise of her hand behind her, one finger up, she stops everyone in the doorway. She descends the steps of the porch and Eddie is in awe about how much power she wields because no one follows after. Not even Dustin, who is the absolute worst at following orders.

"Whatever you need," Eddie answers El. He doesn't think she's blinked since exiting the house.

"We can go to Steve's," Robin offers. She's standing now and roots in a pocket of her jeans before pulling out a keychain with three keys on it. "Maybe it'll help being around all his stuff?"

"We can take my van," Eddie offers.

"That would be great," Joyce says, reaching out and grabbing one of El's hands in her own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Come on, let's get some shoes on."

"Thank you," El says, shooting Eddie a smile before her eyes drop down to look at Steve. A frown returns to her face before she turns and heads back into the house with Joyce.

Robin turns to Eddie, offering a hand to him. She's probably offering to pull him up, but he holds Steve out to her instead. He doesn't understand why she looks surprised at that, but she takes Steve, cradles him close to herself like he had done earlier.

Eddie climbs into his van, starting it and reaching over to turn the dial on the radio down so it's not blasting at the loud volume he keeps it on. Robin hovers with the passenger door open. "You getting in, Buckley?"

"Yeah, eventually. Just thinking if I should crawl in the back. Let Joyce and El have the seats?"

"Oh. Yeah. Probably."

She's absently petting Steve's hair, eyes slightly misty. He watches as she blinks away the tears before letting out a big sigh. "I just want to pass Steve off to whoever will be wearing a seatbelt. I've seen how you drive, Munson."

Eddie catches the teasing tone in her voice and laughs. "Fair. I'll take corners about 3 miles per hour slower than I normally do."

Robin laughs. "That's probably still ten above the speed limit."

"You should not speed," El's voice makes both Robin and Eddie jump. She's standing just behind Robin, and a quick look around shows Joyce on the porch, a worried look on her face but she makes no move to step off the porch.

"Is your mom coming?" Eddie asks. A complicated set of expressions crosses El's face and he's worried he might have asked the wrong thing somehow but then El answers.

"No. Just me. I will sit in the center," She slides past Robin and crawls up onto the bench seat of Eddie's van, scoots across the seat until she butts up against Eddie, and searches for the seatbelt before securing it.

"Here," Robin holds Steve out to El, who takes him, before Robin pulls herself into the van, shutting the door and buckling herself in.

Eddie doesn't go immediately because he's a bit busy watching El look at Steve. She's holding him like she's not sure how. She wraps one hand around an arm and his waist and uses the other to poke a porcelain cheek, right over the two moles just below his cheek bone. He can see the creases of a frown on her face.

"Are you okay, El?" Robin asks, which is good because he was about to, and he thinks his voice will come out more watery.

"I...," El looks up to Robin, then back down to Steve, "I do not know."

It hits Eddie like a freight truck just how young El is. He has to put the van in gear and drive to give his mind something to focus on or he's going to do something stupid, like bear hug El and ugly cry into her grown out buzzcut.

"Hey, that's okay," Robin says, "it's okay to not know how you're doing. This is a complicated situation."

"I barely know Steve," El says, which surprises Eddie. They all seem close, so much so that Eddie still feels like an intruder at times. Still, there is a tone to her voice that seems off to Eddie. "We do not have a reason to hang out. Not like everyone else. Lucas plays basketball with him. Dustin and Max claim him as their brother. Even Erica-"

El stops talking abruptly. Eddie glances towards her but she's staring down at Steve, so Eddie flicks his eyes to Robin, who is already looking at him and making an 'I don't' know' gesture with her hands before Eddie returns his eyes to the road.

"Mike does not care for Steve much," El continues suddenly, the tone still there and Eddie feels like he knows it, "I spent so much time with Mike that I think I did not care for Steve, either. Not on purpose. But- but in a way that you do not care about a thing because it is not important in your life?"

No one says anything else, because what can they say? Shortly after, Eddie pulls into the driveway of the Harrington residence behind Steve's Bimmer. "Alright ladies. Once more unto the breach!"

They crawl from the van and Robin unlocks the door. El and Eddie step through first. El moves into the house, clutching at Steve like he's her favorite stuffed toy. Robin freezes in the doorway, looks like she's not even breathing.

"Buckley?" Eddie is whispering and he doesn't know why.

"Sorry, sorry," Robin exhales a shaking breath. "It's just- Nancy and I- sorry. Uh, El, do you need us to do anything?"

She glides past Eddie to catch up to El and he is left to close the door. He wonders if, maybe, Robin should have also stayed at the Byers-Hopper home. It had been her and Nancy that had come to check in on Steve just this morning. It wasn't unusual to not hear from Steve sometimes (everyone needed their time to just be alone) but today must have marked Too Many Days for Robin because she'd called Nancy for a ride, and they'd found this. A locked house, Steve's car still here, and resting against the pillows of Steve's bed had been the porcelain replica. Nothing out of place, no ransom notes, nothing to make it seem like nefarious going ons had been taking place. Just the Harrington house, devoid of a flesh and blood Steve Harrington.

Coming back must be surreal.

"Eddie, you okay?"

"Oh, uh, yeah," Eddie startles a little. He'd been lost in his own head for a moment there.

"Can El have your bandana? She needs something to use as a blindfold."

"Yeah," Eddie moves through the house, to the living room where El has sat herself on the floor in front of the TV. Steve is lain in her lap, a mirror of the image Eddie must have made on the front lawn. He pulls the bandana from his pocket, folding it diagonally before offering it out to El.

She takes it, eyes flicking up to Eddie's. She looks sad. "Can you make the TV staticky?"

"On it."

Robin closes all the blinds and curtains, making the house a bit darker and Eddie gets the TV on, white noise filling the room.

They sit in that white noise for what feels like an eternity but when Eddie checks his watch, is actually about 22 minutes, before El suddenly yanks the makeshift blind fold off with a frustrated huff.

"It is not working!" She shouts.

Eddie looks to Robin, but she looks just as lost about all this as Eddie feels. Well. Eddie's always been good with kids. He'll make the attempt. "El, you said earlier you didn't know if you were okay. Maybe figuring that out will help? It can't be easy to get into the right headspace with other thoughts floating around. "

She looks down at Steve, then back to Eddie. Her eyes are wet. "I am scared."

Eddie nods, "me too. This is scary."

"I am scared I will not find him," she says, then drops her voice to a whisper to continue, "but I am more scared that I will."

He really wishes Joyce would have come with. Or Hopper, Jonathan, Will, anyone who actually knows El. He thinks she need a kind of comfort he and Robin cannot provide. "Well, El, what's the part that's really scary?"

She's quiet for a long time. "Steve has never needed saving before. Not by me. What if I can't?"

"Oh El, it's not on you to save him," Robin says, sliding off the couch to be on the floor with them. She must have more information than Eddie about why El would say that, which makes since, because Robin was part of the conversation when they'd decided to have El try and reach out to Steve. "It's not fair that it's only you that can do this, but we didn't ask expecting you to fix it. That's not the pressure we meant to put on you. All we want is a confirmation. And if you can't, that's okay, too. That'll be okay."

El frowns, bottom lip quivering before she reaches down and picks up Steve, shoving him into Eddie's arms before she launches herself at Robin, arms around her neck and burying her face into Robin's neck. Robin looks startled, eyes wide going to Eddie. He pulls Steve to his neck, in an imitation of the position El is in, then hugs him with one arm and uses his other hand to pet at Steve's hair, trying to make meaningful eyes contact with Robin. She gets with the program, hugging El and petting the back of her head.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. You want us to call Joyce or Hopper over?" Robin soothes, her body now gently rocking with El in her lap.

There's a muffled, quiet 'no' from El but that's it. She doesn't say anything else, or move, for a couple minutes.

El pulls back finally, away from Robin to sit up straight. "Okay. I am ready again. Please hand me Steve."

He does, belatedly realizing he was still cuddling and petting Steve. Oh. He really hopes that if Steve is the doll, that he doesn't have any sort of touch receptors going on. That'll be embarrassing.

Steve settled in her lap again, blindfold back on, El tries again.

It takes about two minutes before Eddie watches a bit of blood trickle out of her nose. He shoots a worried look to Robin before lifting a hand, intent on reaching out to El, but before he fully extends his arm, Robin stops him with a shake of her head.

Another eternity passes before El gasps and pulls the blindfold off.

"What happened? Did you find him?" Robin asks.

El looks from Robin to Eddie, then down to Steve, then back up to Eddie, a small smile on her face. "Yeah. He wants me to tell you 'thank you, for taking the time to explain because Dustin never does.' He said you would know what he was talking about?"

"Holy shit." He and Robin say it at the same time. Robin scrabbles over the couch, rather than around it, and dashes out of sight. Eddie doesn't think he could make his legs work if he wanted to. Steve can hear them. (Ha Dustin!)

El deposits Steve into Eddie's arms. "It is him. He does not know what happened, either. He can hear and see. He appreciates that you did not let the sun blind him."

"El, you are the most amazing person I've ever met," Eddie says and watches the grin grow on El's face. "Alright. Well, the first step to a solution is knowing and now we know."

Robin pops back into view behind the couch, "everyone is on their way here now. I tried to tell Will we'd go back to them, 'cause y'know, less people and cars to worry about but I guess they want the base of operations to be here. How mad do you think Steve would be if I got copies of my key made for everyone?"

"I can ask him," El offers.

"Nah," Eddie grins, "it's always better to ask forgiveness than permission. And you'll forgive us, won't you, Stevie?"

Steve, of course, does not answer, but it does settle something inside Eddie knowing that he hears the question.

Steve's a doll. They know that for sure. Now, they can find a solution.

#steddie #platonic stobin #my fic #why am i like this guys??? ill get back to my other fics eventually #unfortunately this porcelain doll AU has consumed my little gremlin brain #anyway i LOVE the El&Steve sibling dynamic but i think El should get to have complicated feelings about steve first #porcelain steve

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cripplecharacters · 3 days

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Do you have any tips (or previous posts) about how to write a young person who’s first-time cane user? This one is for a character who escapes a lifetime of being experimented on, and learns in the aftermath of being rescued that this rather compromised her ability to walk well again. I’ve written characters with other mobility devices for getting around. But never canes. I myself am physically disabled but have never needed anything like these before. I’m always eager to learn.

Hi!

If your character is a first time cane user, here's some things that could happen:

She will need to learn how to walk with the cane first. When you're starting, it's easy to mess up (though it could be my dyspraxia speaking) and overfocus on how you should walk because you're just getting used to it. She could randomly stop and correct her gait, or look down a lot to check if she's still doing the motion (left arm and right leg forward, or the other way around).

She's probably gonna drop that thing a lot. Especially if she has a weaker grip in the cane hand - now, I don't have this problem (the opposite, rather) - but the overall thing is a really common occurrence for most of us. Walking and hit the smallest pebble imaginable? Cane on the ground, somehow. Tried putting it against the wall or table? It's on the ground. And then you need to reach for it... it's a struggle sometimes.

If she's not helped in picking the cane, she will spend some time figuring out what grip and height are comfortable for her. (Grip depends on personal preference, no one's preference has ever been the doorknob handle, height is generally to the person's wrist from the ground up.) I think that this could be an interesting opportunity to talk about disabled communities - maybe she's frustrated with the process and goes to an older (more experienced) cane user to help her?

If it's during the winter, her hand is gonna be freezing - and the opposite in the summer - and she might not be prepared for it. The handle can get HOT and it can be an issue. Depending on what her actual disability is, she might try switching which hand to hold it in. If she's able to do that, another character could warm up her cold hand :)

The first couple of times walking with a cane are an Experience. You feel way better, but also everyone is suddenly staring. Some people care about that, some don't. But it can be somewhat overwhelming either way.

Spatial awareness is gonna suck at first. She will bump into what feels like everything with the cane. Especially doorframes. It's always doorframes for some reason. Or mess up and have her cane slip down because she hasn't realized how close to the curb she was.

She will hit her shin. It will hurt.

She's probably going to be speedy with that thing! Getting a cane is like getting a speed boost. Without it, I have episodes where I'm extremely slow (my highest, extreme-pain speed would be slower than a person walking very casually) and with it, I'm faster than a lot of able-bodied people! It's fun and she would have fun with it.

She will not know what to do with the cane when she doesn't need it. For me, using backpacks always cause issues because I don't know how to hold it without dropping it, but I also need to swap hands, something gets stuck on the handle... it's a whole process that takes a comical amount of time at first. Same when going to the public bathroom, where are you putting it when you aren't using it...? It's a lot of trial and error and a lot of "eww, my cane just touched the dirtiest surface humanly imaginable".

In the real world, people are (overly) interested in young cane user's business and tend to stare a lot. Now, it doesn't have to be like this in your story, but it's often just an annoying part of life. Your character might feel awkward and feel like she needs to explain herself, but this goes away after some time. You just get desensitized after a while.

In the real world, people are sometimes interested and nice about it! For example, a lot of older people can be insecure about using a cane, exactly like younger people. I've heard stories about older people asking younger users where they got their cane from, how are they so confident with it, etc. Another opportunity for a disabled community moment!

I hope that my suggestions were helpful, it's been a while since I was a first-time cane user so I wrote down what I still remember, haha.

Mod Sasza

Hi!

I agree with Sasza on pretty much every point and wanted to add some things from my own experience.

It's really, really hard to hold both a cane and an umbrella at the same time. Sometimes I'll give up and get wet. Sometimes I'll give up and store the cane. She might do either of those, depending on what she hates more: being wet or walking without the cane. Or she could get a raincoat if that works for her.

Speaking of umbrellas, sometimes you need your umbrella and you need your cane and you also need a free hand. This Sucks. What I do for this sometimes (and maybe she or other people have better, smarter, more useful solutions than this) is shove my umbrella into my shirt or backpack strap or something, so the umbrella is Held Up by it. This is not very effective, and will not last long. But if I need to look up a map on my phone or adjust something on my clothes or get my keys, it can work. Sort of.

Just like mod Sasza said, people will take interest in your cane, younger and older alike. I've had people of all ages compliment my cane (it has flowers) as well as people of all ages tell me I'm too young to need a cane or ask what's wrong with me. An older woman once asked me where I got my cane as she had been wanting a 'pretty' one, and that was a nice moment.

She might develop a new awareness of mobility aid users. When you're new at using one and trying to figure it out, you're probably going to be frustrated, because it's a new skill like any other. But it might make her (like it made me) notice more people using canes. It's not that I never saw them before, but that they were more common than I ever thought, and I never would have noticed how common it was if I hadn't had to slow down and practice my skill.

Cane tips get dirty, and cane tips wear out. These both depend on where your character is using her cane (outdoors vs indoors, scratchy asphalt vs smooth wood) as well as how often. A cane with a worn-out rubber tip really sucks and is more unstable and if the cane is made of aluminum and the tip is worn out and you hit the cane the wrong way, you can damage the cane. Ask me how I know.

That's all I can think of right now that I had to learn to deal with when I started! As you can see I still don't have a solution to the rain thing and it's been like two and a half years...

- mod Sparrow

#mod sasza #maybe-its-beyond-words #canes #mod Sparrow #mobility aids

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angelltheninth · 2 years

Text

Genshin Men Having A Quickie With You

Pairing: Kaeya, Diluc, Itto, Thoma, Pantalone, Dottore, Zhongli x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex (Itto, Pantalone, Dottore), cum marking (Kaeya, Itto, Zhongli), blowjob (Diluc, Dottore), fingering (Kaeya, Diluc, Thoma, Pantalone), creampie, (Itto, Dottore, Zhongli), table sex (Diluc, Dottore, Zhongli), wall sex (Itto, Thoma), breeding kink (Kaeya, Itto, Dottore, Zhongli)

A/N: Hopefully I'll hit those 5k tomorrow so you can all que up some wholesome, and maybe some slightly darker, ideas for your favorite Genshin men, or you know any other of my fandoms.

Kaeya has become something of an expert at having quickies with you. Whenever he sees that horny look on your face but he knows he has mission soon, with no way of knowing how long it will take he'll waste no time pulling your panties to the side and plunging his fingers deep into your cunt, getting you nice and ready for his throbbing cock. He'd savor that first minute of being inside you, your walls clenching around him before he starts to establish a rhythm for the two of you. He loves to finish inside of you, telling you how good you look when you're full of his cum, when you're dripping and covered in it. He will never get tired of seeing you painted white with his cum, and he knows you love it too. Shame he has to be a little careful with it when you're trying to make this fast, and not as messy.

Diluc is a little hesitant with quickies. He prefers to take a it nice and slow, but listen, if you're on break and you're on your knees for him, sucking his cock, licking him from base to tip, massaging and cupping his balls, edging him until there's no time left he will bend you over the desk, pull your underwear down around your ankles, give you a few fast, rough pumps with his fringes just to get more of your slick flowing before he sinks his dick inside your slick cunt. He loves watching his cock appear and sink back into your swollen cunt. His pace is almost desperate, his voice high and needy in your ears as you massage his cock with you pussy, urging him to spill his cum inside you, to make you into a sticky mess. He can't refuse such a nice offer now can he?

Itto is usually the one to initiate quickies, he can get horny at the most random times and needs a quick release before someone comes around and sees. He would be quick to pin you against the wall and sink you down on his hard cock, bouncing you up and down his length as you bite at his shoulder to stifle your moans and whimpers at the stretch of his length. He knows he should be more careful than this and he promises to kiss it better latter but right now he just needs to see you full of his seed, he needs you to take it deep into your pussy, he needs to breed you, and he needs it now. When he finishes inside of you there's so much cum that you can't possibly take it all. He knows that his loads are big so he pulls out, letting some shoot up and stain your face and your lips. Seeing you lick it up makes him even hornier. He needs to get you home, to his bed where he can spend hours fucking you until your voice is gone from screaming his name, and this time he doesn't need to make it quick.

Thoma knows better than anyone how stressful it is to have him running around all the time and not being able to spend as much time together as the two of you would like. Because of this quickies are quite frequent for the two of you. Any surface will do. Most of the time it's a wall or a door so that you have something sturdy to lean against as he fingers you. If he could keep his fingers inside you all that he wouldn't complain. Same goes for his dick. Unfortunately that isn't an option at the time so for now he'll settle for fast and brief, but pleasurable squeezes of your pussy around him. Normally you'd want him to stay inside longer, he's usually a lot slower when it comes to sex early in the morning, which is your favorite actually, you get to feel every inch of him that way. But feeling his dick piston in and out each time hitting your sweet spot makes you come around his dick much faster than either of you would like. He wouldn't finish though, only tug himself back into his pants and will the erection away. He would much rather have time to watch his cum slowly trickle out of you.

Pantalone would have you laid across his table as his fingers go in and out of you at a rapid pace. And what a pretty sight you are, all needy for him, asking to have his cock already, there's not much time. He's not gonna let you have it easily, he needs you to come at least once, he doesn't care of you ruin a document of two, he can replace them easily. Your pleasure is all he cares about. He loves the small whimper you give him when he bottoms out and pulls you flush against him. Sometimes he wishes he could freeze time and have all the time in the world just to fuck you. Unfortunately he knows he has to make this fast. He goes hard, making the table creek from the force of his thrusts. Your orgasm hits you fast, you're fully intent on making him finish inside of you, your legs wrapping around his waist so you don't make an even bigger mess of his desk. He has no problem with that. When he finishes he pulls you further to the edge of the so that the cum flows to the floor. easier to clean up that way.

Dottore may love quickies but he also likes to have them multiple times thorough the day. When he calls you into his lab at the most random time you know you're more than likely gonna walk in and see him stroking his hard cock, motioning you to get on the floor so he can use your mouth as he pleases. He holds off on creaming inside your mouth, his load is for you cunt to take after all. You follow him to the table where you already know to bend over and present your dripping cunt to him, using your fingers to spread your lower lips for his cock to enter you. His pace is merciless and at times painful as he gives you load after load, wanting to make sure you've taken every last drop and let none escape. He wants to make sure you're pumped full of his cum, that it's dripping down your thighs when you stand up, marking you as his personal slut. His to fuck and to breed whenever he wants.

Zhongli is quite a busy man. When the mood gets going though he can do little to go against his instincts to bend you over and breed you, make you full of his cum, bite you, mate you, make you his. And over time he's learned to give into those desires. He will fuck you against every flat surface in his office, coming time after time, making you a complete mess with him cum. Oh he knows he should do it even faster, after all what if someone happens to walk in on you two? Well he wouldn't stop. He wouldn't stop until every drop of his cum is either in you or on you. No matter how many times he needs to do this in quick successions through the day as to not arouse suspicion of your whereabouts. That is mainly your concern though, he's pretty sure that half the Liyue knows how much time you spend with his cock hitting that sweet spot of yours.

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animezinglife · 3 months

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Hot take:

What I like about Elucien is that it's not the scorching, fire-hot chemistry that's overwhelming either or both of them. It's not those charged interactions that make you think they're going to tear into each other at any given moment.

They don't know each other well at all. There's deliberate distance; hesitation and control. They're a bit shy around each other and definitely awkward. It's such a far cry from that snarky, silver-tongued, sassy emissary in Lucien we're used to, and Elain's essentially having to start her life completely anew. They both have a long way to go, and they both have a lot of healing to do.

He never pushes her. He doesn't "prowl" towards her, loom over her hitting her with the kind of look inviting all kinds of temptation, or even hint at any sort of dominance with her.

Because that wouldn't be right for Elain. Not right now or anytime soon, at least.

He's trying to get to know her as a gentleman would: talk with her, learn a bit more about her. Get a sense of her interests/hobbies and things that make her happy. He keeps his distance when he knows she's not comfortable, and he doesn't cross that line. He buys her an achingly thoughtful gift, but doesn't insert himself into the equation and merely leaves it for her when things get tense with Feyre.

Yes, we all love to joke about that a fire in his blood and all its burning implications, but to me, it's his mind and self-control that make him so sexy.

I love that Elain--who's more shy and uncertain of her agency than her sisters ever were--doesn't have to contend with someone who's constantly undressing her with his eyes or making every excuse he can to touch her. He looks at her, sure, with sadness and "longing," but there's a gentleness to it and how he is with her that makes both him and them as a potential couple refreshing and all the more "earned."

It's different for this series. Slower and sweeter. It's also achingly painful as a reader, but the potential for something beautiful to form is addicting.

I just think it would make it all the more powerful when--if--they do finally truly choose each other. That foundation could become so incredibly strong, rooted in deep understanding, then friendship, then love.

Don't get me wrong: I'm not downplaying the potential for some excellent spice, but I like to think it'll play out very differently with a little sweeter meaning. I'm convinced she'll be the one to unravel if they ever share so much as an otherwise-innocent kiss.

But right now? Lucien's basically doing the equivalent of giving a girl his number so she can call him when she's ready to talk and go out.

Do I think her sisters treat her with kid gloves? Sure. Do I think they underestimate her and what she wants out of life? Absolutely, but that doesn't mean she's still not a little more reserved than they are (and likely always will be to some degree).

He'll meet her halfway and is allowing her to choose where that point is.

#elucien #hypotheticals #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elain x lucien #lucien x elain #it's been a long stressful day. let me have this #acowar #acowar spoilers #acotar

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tonyspank · 11 months

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HEART 2

Summary: Rumours spread like wildfires and you have to convince the ex-pirate that you’re not such a bad person.

Warnings: Idek!

A/N: she’s so cute

Words: 2.0k

Tara Carpenter x Female! Reader

PART ONE

It was a calm Friday evening, the wind was blowing, the street lines were on and you were walking down the slightly busy paths of Blackmore University. With Chad, of course.

You two had just finished football practice, and it had been three days since the Halloween party. Chad was sweaty, his grey Nike compression shirt had a dark stain on the back, while, you were completely dry.

And the only reason you were was because you had gotten in trouble with your coach about your actions at the party. Should Chad also have been in trouble, yes. Did you take the blame for him, yes.

For your coach, the story was that you had started an altercation with Frankie, turning into a fight which led to Chad jumping in to separate it, which only lead to him getting hit in his nose.

There had also been stories going around about how Sam Carpenter, the 'mastermind' behind last year's killings in Woodsboro tased you. Saying that they wouldn't expect less from a murderer.

"Are you excited to see Tara?" Chad teases, bumping your shoulder with his fist. You shake your head as a small laugh leaves your mouth.

"About that..." Chad furrows his eyebrows, "Don't tell me she cancelled your date."

Now it's your turn to furrow your eyebrows, you turn your head to Chad, no longer watching the path in front of you. "Date?! What do you mean date!"

"What do you mean, what do I mean date?!" He says, repeating your words even louder. "It was never a date?" You state, confused.

Was it a date? Tara had given you another note the day after the party, asking you to meet her at a park not too far from the university.

"Y/N! Why would it not be a date!"

You shrug your shoulders, "I don't know!"

Chad lets out a loud groan, slapping his forehead with his free hand, "If a girl gives a note. Right?" You nod at his words and he continues, "And it says HEART, right?" You nod again, but slower.

"Then it flipping means it's a date. She put heart, twice! Not once, but TWICE!"

You stop walking. Chad also stops, and you can't help but mutter, "Fuck!" You throw your head back, continuing to walk. "It was a fucking date. But I'm not ready for a date, I mean I am!— I don't wanna end up hurting her or I just!—"

Chad stops your rambling, "I know that you're scared to date again, but Tara's not Kayla, Y/N. And she doesn't even watch football, she watches futbol, so I highly doubt she even knows who you are."

You bite on your lip, "Actually... I think she does." Chad turns his head to you, "What do you mean?"

"Yesterday... I was walking and I called out Tara's name and she sent me the meanest glare I've ever seen in my entire life. And I think I know why."

"Why?" You pull out your phone, showing Chad the articles they had written about her sister and you.

"Y/N Y/L/N attacks someone at a frat party, shortly after that the star receiver is assaulted by Sam Carpenter, a born serial killer. The victim says they were scared for their life once seeing Carpenter lift a weapon." He reads, confused. "Wait? What? You didn't even make a statement about what happened?"

"Exactly! And I didn't even physically see Sam lift a weapon, I just felt it." You say nonchalantly shrugging it off.

"Tara probably thinks you did make that statement." He mumbles, "We gotta go see her." Chad picks up his pace, and you can't do anything but follow him confused. "Wait! You mean now?" You shout out, jogging after the fast-walking athlete.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" You ask Chad, he had just knocked on the door of the Carpenter-Bailey apartment. Chad stares ahead waiting for the door to be opened, "Of course. Just hide a bit."

You step out of the view of the peephole, "Oh. Okay?" A few more seconds pass and there are multiple clicks heard before the door opens.

"Chad, hey?" You hear Sam say. "Hi! Is Tara here?" Sam steps aside, showing Tara sitting down on the couch, along with Mindy.

"Hey, sis!" Chad waves, he then proceeds to grab you by your shoulders guiding you in front of him and into the apartment. Sam's slight smile leaves her face, along with Tara and Mindy's.

"What is she doing here?" Sam asks, obviously upset by the fact that you're standing in her apartment. "She's here to explain."

You send everyone a nod and wave, "Uh, yeah. Um, I didn't actually say those things... I didn't even make a statement. I only talked to my coach and I never even mentioned that you tased me, I just said that I got into an altercation with Frankie. Then I took the fall for Chad." You announce to everyone present, Chad nods his head agreeing with your words.

"Exactly! So whoever wrote that article lied. Who wrote it by the way?" Chad then asks you, you pull out your phone and pull up the article searching for the publisher's name.

"It says," You drag out, "Um. Kayla Burke."

Tara scoffs from the couch, "Wait, what? Are you serious?" Chad doesn't even let you answer him before he snatches the phone, and it indeed says, Kayla Burke.

"What the fuck!"

"Wait, who's Kayla Burke?" Mindy questions and Sam nods, wanting to know as well.

"Kayla Burke is Y/N's ex-girlfriend." Mindy's mouth turns into an 'O' shape, and she lets out an "Ohhh! The one that cheated on you, right?"

You take in a breath, looking at the ground and then at Chad who speaks up for you almost immediately, "Mindy. Not right now." The twin holds up her hand in surrender, Sam steps up voicing her input. "So, are you going to make a statement? To get all these rumours situated?"

You quickly nod, "Yes, I can ask my coach about it so that you're not thrown under the bus." You can almost see Sam visibly relax, "I'm sorry, Sam. I didn't know people would say things like that."

"It's not completely your fault, I'm sorry for tasing you." You wave her off, "Already forgotten."

"So you're just going to take the blame for everything that happened at that party?" Mindy asks you with squinted eyes, it was clear she didn't trust you or just didn't believe you had a clear motive.

"I mean? Yeah? I'm already in deep shit for even fighting Frankie, so if it helps Sam clear her name, why not?" You shrug.

Mindy unbelievably nods at your words causing you to slump your shoulders.

"Tara," Her head lifts at your voice. "Can we talk?" She stares at you, waiting for you to speak.

"Um," You look around the room, all eyes on you. "Alone?" You feel Sam's eyes staring into the side of your head. "Just downstairs, please?"

Tara gets up, and walks out the door, not even looking back to see if you were following her or not. You give everyone one last look along with a tight-lipped smile, before following Tara who's seated at the end of the stairs.

You plop down beside her with a sigh, "Hey."

Her eyes stare into yours, and you can practically see the mental battle she's having with herself. She doesn't know if she can trust you, not after reading the articles about her sister and you.

And after reading the article about only you, after figuring out you were some sort of big deal to the school, she looked your name up. She found out about your ex-girlfriend and Frankie, and she believes you only helped her at the party to get back at Frankie in some way.

She also believes that you're a dickhead due to the leaked DM's people have posted of you into multiple 'Stab' subreddits.

But what she doesn't know is that you didn't want to get back at Frankie, you wanted to help her. She also doesn't know that those DM's are fake, and you don't even have any social media to direct message, anyone.

And she doesn't know the fact that you didn't know your hangout was supposed to be a date, not just a friendly get-together.

"Hey." She replies, leaning against the rail beside her. "I'm sorry about what Kayla said about your sister. I didn't even know she was back in journalism."

"Is it true about what you said about that girl?" You furrow your eyebrows at her question, "What?"

"You said something about Amber Freeman last month, right?" You shake your head, confused.

"Amber Freeman?" You say though it says more like a question. "You were texting people about Amber Freeman and how she was the peak of the ghost faces, and she deserved to get away with it."

"Tara—" She interrupts you, continuing. "Amber Freeman was my best friend, well, I thought she was until she tried to kill me. First, she stabbed me seven times, then broke my leg. And Chad, stabbed him seven times as well. So, you'd prefer to see her get away with stabbing your best friend?"

You swallow your spit, not looking away from the hard stare Tara was giving you. "Tara... I never wrote any of those DM's."

Tara's face falls, but she doesn't say anything letting you proceed to talk. "I used to live in Woodsboro and people found out, so of course they wanted me to get involved in all that Ghostface shit, but I never said anything about Amber or anything else about Ghostface."

You chuckle to yourself, "I don't even have any social media to text stuff like that."

"Well, shit." She mutters, "I'm so sorry—"

"It's okay, I have a question though." She furrows her eyebrows, "What is it?"

"Was our hangout tomorrow supposed to be a date?" Tara's face heats up, "Um. I don't— If you wanted it to?" She stutters out, a smile on her face as she finishes.

She looked so cute when she was flustered.

"I think I do want it to be a date now."

"Now?" You stand up from the stairs, holding out a hand. "What about before?" Tara grabs your hand, standing up with you.

"Y/N! What'd you think before!" She yells out after you as you walk up the steps.

You can't help but laugh at the girl.

She stops you from opening the door by grabbing your arm, forcing you to face her. "What'd you think before!"

"Wow! You really hate being out of the loop." Her smile increases, "There's a loop? More people know about this?" You laugh.

As your laugh dies down, you inspect the shorter girl's face in front of you, who smiles up at you, her dark freckles scattered across her face, and her deep dimples prominent in her smile. Along with those pink plum lips you can't help but stare at, noticing this she licks them, and you look back at her eyes, only to find them staring back with a steady gaze.

"Has anyone told you that you have a cute face," Tara whispers, you chuckle, she probably doesn't even know what she just told you as she's so caught up in the moment. Her hand reaches to your face, trailing over all of your features before lingering on your cheek.

Your heart was pounding, and you were almost scared that Tara might've heard it herself. You began leaning in slowly, drawing your lips closer to hers, she felt so warm and inviting.

Her lips part slightly, and she closes her eyes leaning in with you, you could feel her breath on your lips until you finally connected them.

At first, the kiss was soft and delicate, inside your stomach felt like a sanctuary for butterflies, but on the outside, it felt like fireworks going off, your hands found her waist, deepening the kiss and earning a slight noise from the ex-pirate.

In Tara's mind, she found herself already addicted. You and this kiss were so intoxicating, and she knew once it ended, she'd want it to be repeated.

You pulled away, and Tara shamelessly chased your lips, you chuckle. "Does that answer how I felt before?"

"No, you might need to tell me again."

Your smile, pulling her back into another kiss.

#reader insert #jenna ortega x reader #wattpad #jenna ortega #jenna marie ortega #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x fem reader #tara carpenter x y/n #tara carpenter x you #scream 6 #scream #fem!reader

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pathetichimbos · 7 months

Text

First Meeting - Part Two

((part one here))

((part three here))

Thomas Hewitt/GN!Reader

taglist: @goodiesinthecloset21

---

You've run away from home, hitchhiking around Texas as you come up with your next plan, only to find that life has plans of its own when a simple ride with a group of friends lands you at a lone gas station in Travis County, drawn to a mysterious man most seem to avoid.

---

You let out a sigh as you exit the store, a bounce to your walk as you head in the opposite direction you came from, moving rather quickly in order to cover as much ground as possible before the dark of the night hits.

It doesn't take long before a large, familiar figure comes into view ahead, his pace much slower than your own.

Realizing your only options are to either ignore him and pass him, or slow down and accidentally look like a creep following him, you sigh and jog ahead, slowing down to match his pace as you catch up.

"Funny seeing you again," You catch him off guard, making him jump a little as he looks at you in surprise, "...Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you, I just saw we were headin' the same way and I thought I'd just say hi."

He sighs, seeming to relax a bit after your mini jump scare.

"So..." You start, realizing he wasn't going to reply, "...You live out this way?"

He nods.

"Seems quiet."

Another nod.

"Kind of like you." You give another smile, shrugging, "I was always told I could talk the ear off of a dead man."

He lets out a small, humored chuckle, and you feel yourself relax a little.

Conversation begins to flow easier as the two of you walk along, with you talking about the people you'd met and the places you'd seen in the last month and a half. The more you talk, the easier it becomes to see the good in your adventure, the ache of your empty stomach and sore muscles fading into the background as you retell your stories.

“Can't say I'd be able to find it again, but man, it was a really beautiful place. I'd love to go there again.”

Thomas nods, a genuine smile on his face from hearing the way you described the lake you had found last week.

You can feel the long grass reaching its way under your jeans, scratching at your ankles as the two of you walk side by side down a narrow dirt path you had absent-mindedly followed him down.

“Maybe I will go back...” You hum a little, hands resting in your back pockets, “Can't be that hard to find, right?”

He lets out a low hum of agreement as the two of you break the clearing in the trees and a large white house slowly comes into view.

“Whoa...” You mutter as the two of you reach the porch, “You live here?”

He nods.

“Wow…” You gaze at the house. It was old, sure, the white paint peeling off, the windows dusty and missing a couple of panels, but it was huge, and absolutely gorgeous.

The worn porch swing creaks as a summer breeze slowly pushes it, and you can distinguish the faint sound of animals echoing from the barn that sat a bit further back from the house.

You look at the overgrown property and sigh before smiling at Thomas, almost sadly as you realize it was time to leave.

“Well, I guess I should–” Your words are cut off by a deep, growling sound.

The Texas sun was no match for the heat in your face as you realized the noise was coming from your stomach.

Thomas tilts his head and you quickly look away, biting the inside of your cheek.

“I, uh–” Southern pride keeps your mouth shut as you stumble over your words, eyes boring holes in the dirt as you try to think of an excuse.

You're pulled from your own embarrassment as a strong hand grabs your arm, pulling you up the old wooden stairs and into the house.

It was just as big on the inside, greeting you with a large hallway that stretched to the other end of the house. To your immediate right was an opening to the spacious living room, and a little further down was a staircase leading to the second story.

You, however, were directed to the left, to a small table sitting in a rather big kitchen- though it didn't seem quite as big as the living room sitting across the hall.

“N-no, it’s no problem-!” You try to protest, but he doesn't hear a word of it as his firm grip gently nudges you into a chair.

You sit there, now quietly flustered as Thomas looks through the fridge.

“Tommy what the hell are you doing!?” A new voice suddenly came from beyond the kitchen, and the owner followed in.

It was an older man, wheelchair bound and missing the bottom half of his legs. He looks to Thomas, and then to you, a look of confusion and annoyance on his face as he does so.

“Who the hell is this?”

“I, uh, I’m Y/N…” You offer, knowing Thomas doesn't speak, “I met Thomas down at the station and walked with him.”

“Does Hoyt know about this?” The man ignores you as he continues looking at Thomas.

He finally turns around, a plate covered with tin foil in hand as he shakes his head to the other man.

“Ah, shit, Thomas. I ain't dealing with this. Don't try to say I didn't warn you.” He scoffs before turning back and leaving the kitchen.

You stare at the doorway he just left through, realizing that everyone you had seen so far in this town seemed to either know or be related to Thomas in one way or another.

Perched on the old kitchen wall was a picture of the older woman from the station, though she seemed a bit younger and less grumpy. The sheriff- Hoyt, you had remembered her calling his name- had called her Mama, and the man that had just left mentioned him as well.

You wondered if they had any other family filling the rooms of this large home, though right now it seemed quiet, save for the faint echoes of a TV playing from a room you hadn't seen yet.

Thomas pushes a plate in front of you, catching your attention as he grabs a fork and hands it to you as well.

“Thank you, but you really don’t have to–”

He cuts you off by tapping the table beside the plate.

You sigh, the clench of your empty stomach reminding you that you weren't going to gain anything by not eating it.

You pull back the tin foil to reveal a full meal, something you hadn’t seen in days. The food was piled up, and your mouth was practically watering at the sight. You take your first bite, the flavor exploding in your mouth and making your stomach growl again.

It had been so long since you'd had proper food, you didn't even mind that it was cold, simply excited to get something in your system.

You eat as much as you can, having to turn away over half of it after your shrunken stomach protests eating anymore.

Feeling more comfortable, you gave him a smile and thanked him again, “Did you cook that?”

He shook his head and pointed to a picture on the wall, the same picture of the station clerk that you noticed earlier.

“She's your mother?” You question, earning a nod in response.

You open your mouth to continue when a car door slams shut outside and an almost familiar voice calls out.

“Thomas!” The man screams from the front yard.

“Is that… The sheriff?” You ask, looking back to Thomas who was staring at the door, his face now grim and shoulders tense.

“Thomas, get your ass out here!” Hoyt hollers for him again.

Thomas stands from the table, another voice echoing in from the outside.

“No, no, please, let us go!” A woman screams, her voice blood curdling and scared.

You stand up as well, a worry in your voice, “Is that Katie?”

Thomas puts a hand on your shoulder and shakes his head, a warning.

More screaming comes from the front yard, the voices of the sheriff and Katie mixing together as they yell at each other.

Thomas tugs your arm, pulling you to the kitchen pantry. He motions for you to stay quiet before shutting the door, his fading footsteps leaving the kitchen.

You sit in the dark, heart racing as your mind tries to piece together what was happening.

The slam of the front door makes you jump as the sheriff yells again, his voice much louder and clearer as he had apparently come inside, “Goddamnit, boy, when I holler for you, that means you come!”

“Please, please, let me go, I won’t tell anyone, I swear to God…” Katie was sobbing, you could hear it in her voice and the way she hiccupped between her words.

“Here, Tommy, put her in the kitchen. We’ll let Momma deal with her when she gets home.”

Your body seems to move on its own as you crack the pantry door open, watching Thomas drag Katie across the kitchen floor.

Blood is soaking her clothes, leaving a mess trailing behind as Thomas ties her hands to the kitchen table.

He glances up, intense eyes staring you down as he shakes his head, a silent command to shut the door.

You do as you're told, hands covering your mouth as you start to hyperventilate, adrenaline rushing your system as you start to shake.

You can hear Thomas' heavy footsteps leave the room again over Katie's crying, the table scraping the floor as she futilely pulls against her restraints.

What the hell did you get yourself into?

Your mind starts racing as you try to contemplate your options.

You could stay hidden here, sure, but for how long? What if Thomas wasn't the next person to open the door, and what would you even do if it was?

Would you take the risk and bolt? Would he even let you?

Your breathing starts to become shaky and uneven as the fear takes over your mind. You shut your eyes and lean against the door, trying to ignore the sounds of the girl on the other side.

She was crying, still, asking no one in particular, “God, why me? Why us, God, why–” She cries out, sobbing violently as her sentence is cut off with a broken sob.

After a few minutes of this, the front door opens once again, and footsteps, too soft to be Thomas' or Hoyt’s, come in.

You peer out of the door again, watching as the older woman from the gas station steps into the kitchen.

Katie notices her as well, immediately crying out, begging for help.

You watch as she stops in front of her with a sigh, “Oh, dear. What has that Hoyt done now…?” She mutters before walking past her.

She doesn't notice you as she walks out of view and comes back with a bowl of water and a rag.

“I don’t know why he always has to be so messy.” She shakes her head, gently running the rag across Katie's face.

“Please, please, let me go, please…” Katie pleads with her, only for the woman to hush her, “Why are you doing this?”

“Well, we’ve got company coming over, and you don’t want to be all dirty, do you?” She coos slightly as she finishes washing her face, “There we go, that’s better, isn’t it?”

Katie sobs again, yanking at the ropes once more.

The woman ignores her, walking out of view once again, you assume to get rid of the bowl of water and now bloody rag.

You close the door again and sigh, pressing your forehead against the door as tears begin to slip down your cheeks.

What was going to happen to you?

You sit there in that pantry, silent and listening to Katie’s tears as you wait to find out.

You can hear the woman come back into the kitchen and begin making something, and eventually the whistling kettle hints at tea, or maybe even coffee. At some point another woman joined her and they both took a seat and began chit chatting.

You barely listen to their conversation, only picking up on the first woman’s name, Luda Mae. You didn’t catch the second woman’s name as they chatted casually, exchanging small talk about the weather and the tea. If it wasn’t for Katie’s crying, you’d assume nothing was out of the ordinary at all.

“Oh, here, let me go get you some from the pantry.” Luda Mae's voice pulls you from your thoughts as you listen to her shuffling footsteps come closer and closer.

Your heart stops and sinks all at once and you feel sick realizing what was about to happen.

You push yourself away from the door, holding your bag in front of you as if it could somehow keep you hidden, silently pressing yourself against the back shelves as you brace yourself.

The door handle starts to turn.

A feeling of complete helplessness settles in as the door swings open.

Your eyes screw shut as light floods the pantry, waiting for the worst possible outcome as you shake, holding your measly bag in front of you.

"Please..." You mutter, whether it be to her or to a God or yourself, you don't know, "Don't hurt me..."

#first meeting #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #thomas hewitt x y/n #thomas hewitt x s/o #slashers #slasher fandom #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slasher x s/o

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hwayangyeon · 1 year

Text

NSFW sunoo x g/b/xf reader x bf sunghoon // sunoo fucks reader while sunghoon watches // cuckold, voyeurism, exhibitionism, praising // 700 words

already undressed, out of breath and with lips plump from making out, you lay down on the bed waiting for sunghoon to join you but instead you see him walk over and sit on the armchair. before you can react to that you feel sunoo position your hips behind you. he squeezes your waist hard, the feeling of his hands on your skin completely unknown, shocking, yet so exciting.

he enters you gently, wary of his hyung's expression, worried he might change his mind any second now. sunghoon only spreads his legs to sit more comfortably and rests his head on his hand, looking directly into your eyes.

sunoo picks up his speed, it's getting hot and heavy, the alcohol you drank a few minutes earlier doesn't help you muffle your moans either, but it feels so wrong to let them out. you look up once again to seek approval in sunghoon's face, however he's really hard to read, or it's just your vision getting blurry from how good sunoo is making you feel.

"fuck," you can't hold it any longer. you break eye contact with him when the cheating sound leaves your mouth.

"look at me," your boyfriend commands. you hesitate, worried to meet his angry eyes. sunoo moves your hair away from your face, which doesn't allow you to hide anymore and eventually you lift your head up, "you're usually more vocal. don't let sunoo feel bad about himself."

he's right, sunoo is making you feel so good it's crazy. it feels wrong, but so good. his dick is penetrating you so well, his thrusts more delicate than sunghoon's, you are not really used to the slower pace and it's driving you insane.

sunoo leans forward to rest on your back, breathing into your neck and biting your earlobe whenever he hits the sweet spot and you clench around him. his moans are higher than sunghoon's too.

carried away, you decide to check on your boyfriend again. seeing the growing bulge in his pants makes you feel more confident.

"you can touch yourself, baby," you say between catching breaths, "help yourself."

"oh, don't worry, baby," he leans forward slightly to get closer to you, "you will be the one helping me later."

your brain freezes. you already feel worn out from sunoo's irregular pace and you're getting close to your release, how are you going to take him? even sunoo shots his head up confused, his wet hair sticking to his forehead, glossy eyes and parted lips make sunghoon's dick twitch but he won't confess to that.

sunoo can't get enough of you, his hand brushes your arm, grabs your neck lightly, moves your face to the side so he can hear your moans better. it's not that you're his hyung's significant other, he's just really passionate. he also wants sunghoon to feel good about this.

and he does. he enjoys seeing you melt from sunoo's touch, you deserve this. but sunoo is only preparing you for the rest of the night you're bound to spend with your boyfriend, he's going to show you who really fucks you brainless.

sunoo comes right after you, your final moans fill out the room with beautiful melody, it makes sunghoon heat up instantly. sunoo barely can hold himself up, sweat from his nose occasionally drops onto your back.

sunghoon stands up, fixes sunoo's hair and pats him on the head, then squats down next to you and places a kiss on your forehead.

"you did so well," you could fall asleep any moment now, the activity really wore you out, you– "sunoo, can you leave us alone, please?"

the second you hear the door close behind you, sunghoon stands up and starts unbuckling his belt.

fuck.

after hotel.

————

please let me know if there's any way i can upgrade my work ! it's my first time posting smut here, i'm not sure if i'm using the right #'s and warnings <3

#enhypen smut #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #sunghoon smut #sunghoon hard hours #sunghoon hard thoughts #sunghoon x reader #sunoo hard thoughts #sunoo hard hours #sunoo smut #sunoo x reader #after hotel.

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munsonsreputation · 10 months

Text

A MOVIE I'VE SEEN BEFORE

steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: [2.9K]

warnings: warnings: no use of y/n, strangers to lovers, idiots in love, steve not knowing how to feel about truly being appreciated and loved, nightmare (stevie is ok), reassurance, tooth-rotting fluff, PLENTY OF KISSING AND TOUCHING BUT NO SMUT & ANYTHING EXPLICIT, basically a lotta love and little angst!

summary: this feeling is all sorts of new to steve harrington -- actually being appreciated and loved. he doesn't know how to take it, let alone know if it really is real or not. maybe you're too good to ever exist, just something he thought up in the middle of the night? who knows? just the ceilings he stares at as he thinks of you.

It felt really cliché — high school teenagers who finally got to be in the same room alone with their crush cliché.

But only you and Steve were, in fact, not teenagers, nor were you two in a room. It was more like the crowded space in the front of his car where you had to maneuver yourself into a position comfortable enough so your lips could lock with his.

Even with the shift gear bearing into your ribcage, you felt none of it. Not with his lips on yours and definitely not with his hands roaming your skin, gracing it with his tender touch.

Time slipped by too fast tonight and you wished it would go by slower, not wanting to go another second let alone day, without him near. Almost like a drug that you couldn’t stray far away from because he was that addicting. Not merely his touch, but just him.

Steve felt the same way, not knowing how he made it this far without you in his life. For a moment it felt you and him were just doomed to be strangers who ran into one another at a party then spent the rest of your lives wondering what would’ve happened if either of you made a move.

But regret wasn’t something you nor Steve were going to live with, so it was inescapable to find yourselves here. Sitting in his car, parked in your driveway, making out like lovesick idiots after your second date.

The first one was when you two ditched the party and went up to the roof of the house to talk over lukewarm punch then proceeded to make out for hours.

The second, or what is supposed to be your first official date was the movies. Watching a new release with your head snuggly leaning on his shoulder and his arm desperately drawing you in, needing you closer despite the barrier between the chairs.

Now with rain thudding against the windshield, wet kisses echoing in the vehicle, and the late night radio long forgotten — this was the closest you’d been to Steve all night but you both just wished for more.

Only the clap of thunder bouncing off the exterior of his car and the quick flickers of light you saw beneath your closed ones let you both know that it was slowly going to be over soon.

Too soon.

But maybe the moment wouldn’t need to be ruined so soon.

Shivers raced up your spine, throwing your head back away from his lips when they faltered to the spot right below your ear. Chest rising up and down, you fluttered open your eyes, met with the scene of Steve adoring every inch of your skin he could reach.

Your hands clutched his shoulders, squeezing as you felt his lips detach from your neck.

“D-Do you maybe wanna stay the night?”

A pang to Steve’s heart when your words hit his ears because he was totally going to be a fool if he passed up on the offer you laid out.

He’d spend all his nights with you if it meant just getting to be close enough to hear your heart beating because it meant you were really real, not just a dream that he conjured up and had the honor of hallucinating about.

Steve’s lips were a rosy pink-reddish hue from the pressure and time spent with them on you — a direct mirror of what yours looked like, but he was sure you looked like an actual angel that was sent from above and kissed him stupid.

His thumb and forefinger grasped lightly at your chin, setting your gaze straight at him where he buzzed softly, eyes coated with reassurance just to be certain.

“A-are you sure? You don’t—”

You nodded against his touch with a small smile appearing on your face, “I’m sure I really really want you to stay the night.”

God, you sounded so desperate, like you were longing and needing for him to say ‘yes’ when, in actuality Steve would never make you beg for him to stay.

Not now.

Not Ever.

Because he was the one who desperately needed you in order to know that what he was feeling was true. That, for once, someone wanted him the way that he wanted you. Reciprocation of the sweetest yet petrifying feelings that could disappear in the blink of an eye if he wasn’t paying attention.

But all of his attention was on you, never ceasing.

He couldn’t help but lean forward, pecking another sweet kiss upon your lips as his fingers shut off the ignition. Racing out of his door, he rounded towards the passenger side, opening it and leading you out with his hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the wet pavement and rainfall.

Laughter ensued with his arms making its best attempt to shelter you from the unforgiving pelts of rain while you searched your purse for your house keys. And while Steve hated the rain on most days, with you it seemed to be lovely, like a sort of privilege to be rained on with you.

His shoes were surely full of water and his socks were totally soaked, like the rest of you and him, but that didn’t matter. Not when you looked so cute applauding yourself for eventually unlocking the door and swiftly reaching your hand back to pull him in by the shirt.

“That was cute,” Steve chuckled, closing the door behind him and stopping beside you at the rack of shoes at your front door.

You giggled, reaching down to undo the straps of your sandals while he shagged his hair with a shake. Tiny water droplets glistened on the exposed skin of his arm even with the dimness in the corridor.

“I’m glad my cuteness makes up for the downpour…it seriously looks like we just came out of a hurricane.”

He grinned, peering up to see you combing your fingers through your hair as he began toeing off his shoes, not worried at all about the rain damage his Nike Cortez’s just endured. Your palms squeezed the ends, letting the excess drip onto the running rug beneath your bare feet — he would totally advise you later about the mold that could grow because of the humidity, but right now that wasn’t his concern. It was more so the soft chattering of your teeth and the way he saw your shoulder bounce unevenly from the cold.

He stepped closer, letting his warm hands run up and down your water beaded arms. “S’ok, we can get warmed up.”

You blushed, looking up at him through your rain-sodden lashes. He looked just as flushed with cherry red cheeks not realizing that his words came off with a sexual innuendo that you caught.

“Aren’t you such a flirt, Harrington?” You teased, letting your fingers walk up his torso, stopping at his heart, feeling the pulse right under your fingertips.

He swallowed, tongue running over his lips, “I, uhh, I didn’t mean—we don’t have to-”

“Hey,” your teasing voice now came to him in a soothing one, your fingers moving from his heart to over his cheekbones, pulling his eyes to yours.

“I was just teasing. We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. You know that I just want to be here with you, ok?”

He couldn’t believe you were real.

“I know…I want to, but maybe not tonight. I wanna take my time with you, show you how much I really like you…what you deserve.”

Turning down sex with the prettiest girl in front of him was not what he pictured himself ever doing. The old Steve would jump at the idea of hearing you say how much you wanted him. But he wanted you, desperately, and when he got the chance to have you, all of you, he wanted it to be special.

“I’d love that,” you hummed, eyes softening as you perched up on your tiptoes, letting your lips graze over his plump skin.

His lively hands left your arms, instead wrapping themselves across your back and hoisting you up as you yelped and giggled against his lips, “Wanna direct me to the shower?”

Your legs tightened around him, palms holding his face in your hands as you broke the kiss in between directions not wanting to waste a second away from him.

“Down the hall, the first door to the left is my bedroom. The door on the right wall is the bathroom.”

Precious cargo you were in his arms, doing his best not to stumble as you continued to kiss him, trailing from his mouth, to his cheeks, jaw, neck, right at the pulse point where you could practically hear his heart thudding for you.

The slight squeak of the door hinge opening prompted you to pull away, smothering your giggles against your shoulder, hearing him sputter out obscenities as he used his elbow to switch on the light in your bedroom.

With your bathroom door already open, he didn’t waste any more time heading straight there and placing you gently down on the empty space of your counters. His hands slapped at the light switch on the opposite wall, illuminating up the tight space and letting the both of you see each in the bloom.

He cradled your face in his hands, dropping his thumbs in up and down motions on the apple of your cheeks, observing and feeling the way your skin tugged up with the smile that coated your face.

“You’re so beautiful, baby.”

Baby.

His baby.

You.

He wanted to call you every sweet name there was in the universe but baby seemed to be the sweetest in the moment…probably ever.

“You’re the real sight for sore eyes, Stevie.”

He was melting right before you and he couldn’t pinpoint if it was the sickly sweet nickname or the sappy compliment. Either way, both were coming from you — it was you he was melting for, undoubtedly.

“I’m gonna kiss you again, okay?”

Steve wasn’t sure why he was giving you a warning, as if he had given you signals to the never ending kisses he gave you all night, but it felt right. Him giving you the heads up that he was going to kiss you right now and probably not stop until you told him to.

Your nose nuzzled against his, breathing fanning over his face, “Please…and please don’t stop.”

The kisses were slow, meticulous, and deep. Even when your hands began roaming each other’s body, pulling away to ask if it was alright to shred the fabrics away, you both met each other with a passion that you wanted to linger — taking all the time in the world.

New and bare skin to each other’s touch now being worshiped with each skim, clutch, and rub. All of the novelty between the both of you and craving to memorize each part of one another like the world depended on it.

With steam and desire filling up your bathroom, hot water and suds of soap ran down your bodies. It was difficult to feel an ounce of timidity knowing that you’d both let each other explore.

The slopes of his slippery shoulders adorned with tiny countless pecks.

The stretch of your spine lathered with the ample feel of his fingers running up and down.

The fuzz on his chest rubbing against your own with your lips molded together.

The nape of your neck decorated in tattooed kisses you wouldn’t bother to ever hide.

The tips of each of his fingers receiving a peck for all the touches he gave you.

It felt so good to be wanted like this.

To be needed like this.

For this to be enough.

For this to be forever.

Bedsheets rumpled over your nude figures, keeping the both of you warm from the bitter weather that still persisted outside your window. Both of damp heads squished under one pillow, but mostly you laying on his chest, feeling his heartbeat right below your ear.

Your soft legs tangled with his stubbly ones, wrapping over his thighs and hips, marrying you two close together like you couldn’t stray too far even when sharing the same bed.

His arms enveloped you to him, feeling your chest rising against his biceps and your back falling under his palm. The soft snores running from your parted mouth, giving him reasons to know that you were comfortable enough to fall fast asleep with him here with you.

Watching you sleep was a sight for sore eyes. He did it for a few minutes after you fell into slumber. In your sleep, your face didn’t mask any smiles from his jokes or worry from hearing his problems. It was just you in all of your glory — reduced and tranquil.

Eyelashes kissing the space under your eyes. Your eyebrows and the crease between them at ease. Cheeks full yet resting from the grins he knew you’d be giving him tomorrow. Lips still chapped from kissing, now given a break until daylight.

His heart couldn’t take the scene in front of him, as if it was too surreal to think someone like you could ever spend the night here with him like this.

So he settled for the plaster on your ceiling, the bumps and ridges that smeared the wall and kept the two of you protected. He contemplated his feelings as he stared at the beige, gray above him, wondering if the walls could talk, would they tell him all about you — not your secrets, though. He didn’t want to hear about them, not if they weren’t coming from you willingly.

He just wanted to know…know that this could last for eternity.

To get to hold you like this when you two fell asleep and still feel you in his arms by the time he woke up.

To get to call you cute all throughout the day and see the blush that would rush to your cheeks each time.

To get to lie here with you and have to bite his tongue in order to fight the urge to wake you up and tell you he was head over heels in love with you already.

To ruin the moment.

The thunder resounded louder.

The rain fell harder.

The ceilings above you two began to crumble, sinking down, down, down until — splash.

Now he was laying under chaos.

“Steve, I said I have to go now…”

His eyes snapped open, you in his passenger seat with a look of confusion plastered on your face. It took him a minute, blinking lazily and letting his eyes fall to the surroundings in order for it to hit him.

It was just a dream, one that he thought up on the spur of the moment, something that was too good to be true.

“Oh…umm, yeah! Sorry, I just—” He shook his head, clenching his eyes shut, annoying for behaving this way in front of you.

But you didn’t wait for him to gather his thoughts, just opening your own door and letting the sounds of the rain and thunder come to him. The wind blew a drizzle of rain inside his car, misting over his face and prompting him to open his eyes.

Your hair blew against the draft. Standing still in the doorway looking straight through him you whispered just loud enough for him to hear through the storm.

“Goodbye, Steve.”

You didn’t shut the door or walk to the front door of your place. Instead, you were gone with the wind, floating and being taken away from him, amounting to nothing but ash and dust.

“No! Come back! P-please—”

He ran out of his car, rain soaking through his clothes and filling his shoes as he frantically looked around. The trees swaying and sky lighting up with flashes with you nowhere to be found, like you didn’t even exist.

“Steve, baby…hey, c’mon. Wake up, please.”

Gasping with a sharp intake of fresh air, his eyes flew open. Met again with the plaster on your ceiling, but with you in the forefront of his sights. Your eyebrows were pinched together and lips tugged worryingly between your teeth, staring at him keenly.

“W-what happened?” Steve choked out, bringing a hand away from your back to cover his mouth as he continued to cough and groan.

You sat up fully, binding the covers across your chest, and dropping a soothing hand over his collarbones, “I don’t know. You were moving around in your sleep…maybe it was a bad dream?”

A really bad one.

He needed to be sure this wasn’t another one.

“You’re here right?” Steve confided in the dark.

He hoped he didn’t sound pathetic for asking, but he just needed to know.

Desperately.

You nodded assuringly, relaxing your shoulders, leaning down enough to hover over him, “I promise, I’m right here.”

“You’ll be here in the morning?” He asked again to be positive.

You smiled tenderly, settling your forehead against his, nodding and letting your lips skim his.

“I promise.”

A kiss to seal the deal and show him just how real you really were — one that he could recall but certainly wouldn’t let be the last.

Laying here long gone from the chaos and now just basking in the comfort of you beside him because it was real and you did exist.

It hit him, closing his eyes, and relaxing under your touch that it wasn’t ever going to be over.

That this was just the start of a movie he had seen before, but this time with an ending that would mark happily ever after.

a/n: i love "ceilings" by lizzy so much and im so happy i got to write this short little imagine! i had the idea in the middle of the night and shared it with my love @/translatemunson and you know i just had to deliver!!! hope you all loved it and know that you deserve all the love in the world, just like our baby girl stevie!!!

let me know what you think: reblogs, tags, comments, and likes are greatly appreciated!!!

leave a comment and let me know if want to be added to my taglist!!

taglist: @translatemunson @kennedy-brooke @manda-panda-monium @tvserie-s-world @givemeth @steveharringtonswife @astolenkiss @loving-and-dreaming @awkotaco24 @engenelxver @elfiaaaa

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