#I don’t think he’s capable of subtly

[gabriels-golden-kazoo]

Nothing like dyeing my hair on the floor of my lounge whilst watching the archangel Gabriel eye fuck his brother’s destined vessel

[celesteleoves]

hey! can you do headcanons on Bakugou and Izuku (separate) with a reader who's quiet and doesn't talk much but is Hella strong. How would they react to it? If you do thanks sm! it's really sweet of you!!!! :)

“SO SWEET, WITH A MEAN STREAK.”

KATSUKI BAKUGOU/IZUKU MIDORIYA x reader.

summary: your quiet strength intrigues these two boys, how would they react to you before/in a relationship?

warnings: none!!

a/n: this is such a cute ask!! i hope this is to your liking and if it isn’t and you think something is missing, let me know! this is also quiet short because i have a fever 😔

—

KATSUKI BAKUGOU —

before dating:

i can imagine him being a little skeptical of you, but so intrigued!

he’d definitely want to see how far your strength could go. so, bakugou would subtly challenge you during training sessions, pushing you to see your true capabilities.

he’d nevee admit it but he looks up to you in a way. you don’t boast and scream about your strength like he does - that makes him respect you. he would start to see your quiet nature as a sign of focus and determination rather than a sign of weakness.

he’s so competitive… it’s honestly a little scary. before you two were even close to being friends or anything more, he’d definitely get a competitive drive when it comes to you.

this idiot would definitely think he’s competing with you 24/7 even though you remind him you are not. he thinks doing this will make you become more outgoing and competitive.

“HA! i finished my bowl of ramen before you, loser, i won!”

“we were competing over that?” i’d be confused if i were you too… he’s a little slow but he’s got the spirit!

dating him:

once you two start dating, bakugou becomes fiercely protective of you, admiring your strength and determination even more. he thinks his role in the relationship is to protect you from anything that might make you lose your strength!

he’s so loud (we know that obviously) but with you, he’s loud in a supportive way. he’s now boasting about you and your strength instead of his own!

he encourages you to continue improving and growing, offering both praise and constructive criticism. even if you don’t need it, he’ll keep doing it anyway.

bakugo has never felt like he had a opponent that could really give him a run for his money, until you two train together.

training with him would be so so sweet. if he hit you too hard, he’d immediately worried if you didn’t tell him you were alright. (he won’t outwardly admit he’s worried about you but you know deep down he is!)

“are you bleeding? you shithead! i’m not worried... are youbleedingthoughbecauseifyouarethat’snotgood-”

“fuck, did i burn you? don’t start. i’m not worried about you at all, tch!” he says this as the tip of his ears are burning from lying…

he’d still work hard while training with you but still making sure he isn’t doing too much during simple sparring matches. he likes to learn from your strengths and weaknesses!

everyday is a day where you two grow together and bakugou is proud of you for simple improvements in your strength (you’re stronger than him lol and he knows you could take him down in a second!)

IZUKU MIDORIYA —

before dating:

Izuku notices your quiet demeanor but senses a strong presence and capability within you. he’d write about your strength and weaknesses in his hero notebook. he’d ask you so much questions (totally not to get to know you better… totally…)

“sorry- i’m not trying to be a bother but can you tell me more about your quirk! it’s so cool and you’re so strong!” he blushes immediately after rambling about how you’re so talented and your strength is admirable. meanwhile, your twirling your hair over the fact he thinks your strong!

one time, you caught him drawing out your hero suit and make little point notes about it. you went to your dorm and giggled about it for the rest of the day. it literally felt like a award to be in his hero notebook!

we all know izuku is his classmates biggest supporter, he is always wanting his classmates to grow alongside him and is pushing everyone to become the best hero they can be!

with you, he offers encouragement and support to you, believing in your potential and wanting you to believe in yourself as well.

because of your quiet nature, izuku might try and show his admiration for you in anyway he can. he admires your quiet determination, seeing it as a reflection of your inner strength and resolve.

basically, he’s your #1 fan!

you two initially work well together as teammates, with Izuku valuing your contributions and skills.

once you two start dating, it’s a whole different story!

dating him:

your relationship deepens Izuku’s admiration for your quiet strength, appreciating how you compliment each other. (everyone is class 1-A is still shocked at how well you two compliment each other, even before you guys were dating!)

izuku becomes a source of emotional support for you, understanding your quiet nature and providing comfort when needed. he never tries to push you outside of your comfort zone, enjoying your quiet times when his day has been stressful and filled with loud classmates.

you two continue to train together, pushing each other to improve and achieve your goals. you always tell him about how you want to grow your relationship by training and working hard together!(izuku almost cries when you tell him that, pls he loves you so much)

izuku and you build a strong foundation of trust and understanding, working towards your dreams together while supporting each other every step of the way.

he enjoys your company more than anyone else, not only are you strong physically but you are strong mentally. your words of encouragement and advice after a tough day of training always make him want to jump off the walls! you have that effect on him!

—

for both boys, whether before or after they start dating you, katsuki and izuku come to deeply appreciate your quiet strength and see it as an integral part of your relationship dynamics!

[crows4luna]

759 words. mature, no explicit content. gn!reader. allusions to having sex for the first time, reader identifying as aspec.

Gods, this was embarrassing.

You always berated yourself for feeling different from others, not seeing or understanding the pull of attraction that your friends ogled about. More often, that grimacing discomfort came up amid the overwhelming desires the public had over celebrities. Deep down, the detachment wasn’t from a place of malice or pure hatred.

You just… never had the explicit feel, so to speak.

Even in high school, through college, you thought of crushes as an obligatory part of your generational experiences. (For a brief moment, your mind flashes back to when you were gifted the latest album of your favorite boy band by some guy who was infatuated with you. It ended quick, lasting only for two weeks before you cut things off through text.)

Considering everything you’ve dealt with, you like to say you have refined tastes. It holds up in truth, for you were currently laying in Sylus’ lavish bed, clad in only his burgundy robe he often wore after showers. It was early morning in the N109 Zone, as much as a morning could show itself, and he had gotten up first. You couldn’t help but to let your gaze linger on his slightly sluggish form.

Sylus was everything you’d dreamt of and more, that sometimes he didn’t feel real. He knew the kind of man he was, confident of his status and power. Certainly, that played a part in how you two got off on the wrong foot when it came to your first meeting.

But now, he means everything to you. He means the world. Your heart was sated knowing the feeling was mutual.

He stretches his right arm across his chest, craning his head from side to side to even out the tensions in his shoulders. Your observation is a bit intense, but you can’t even blame yourself.

Sylus was already tall in his stature, maintaining a build that was the result of hard work and priority of physicality. The foundation of broad shoulders, followed by delicately contoured lines surrounding the center line of his back. A slim waist with slightly wider hips and defined, thick glutes. Though his back was facing you, your breath hitches knowing of the frontal plane of his abs and hardened, cushioned pecs.

He was captivating, and though his figure appeared godlike, blessed to even spare a glance, you’ve seen it in action countless times. The very same figure that protects you like a natural reflex, that trains with you to heighten your own senses and defense.

“I can feel your stare, sweetie,” his deep voice rumbles, a low, amused chuckle filling the room. “Enjoying the sight, are you?”

Quickly, you avert your gaze, curling in on yourself and now focusing on the tousled sheets of midnight silk. You clear your throat, speechless and overwhelmed that it is Sylus who dedicates himself to you. The heat that pools in your stomach makes itself evident when your cheeks warm up — then you feel a dip in the bed.

Your eyes flicker up, now face to face with those sharp, red eyes.

Sylus grins, tracing his finger over your jaw, “Don’t get shy on me, now. It’s quite alright—I like that you’re enjoying yourself.”

Damn it. Say something, you coward.

Cautiously, you lift your hand to cup his. The slow motion is familiar and tantalizing, practicing it the same way Sylus’ touch would linger on your skin. You’re perceptive to the way he inhales just slightly, anticipating your next move. The mystery of your initiation.

“I…” You begin to say, your voice nearing a whisper, “I think… I wanna try.”

He raises a brow, subtly smirking: “Try…?”

“Sylus, please. You know what I’m—it feels embarrassing to say.”

“We’re both adults, capable of voicing our thoughts and consent,” he surmises, shifting his hand away to lean into your palm. He lets his cheek rest for a second, before turning to press a soft kiss. “I told you before, I won’t make a move until you gain that confidence to tell me what you want. I want you to be honest with me, and only honest.”

Your expression softens, nodding slowly in understanding. You lean forward a bit more, now cupping his face with both hands. Your thumbs brush over the areas beneath his eyes, admiring him.

“...I want… you. To make me feel good.” You tell him, your voice firmer this time, contrary to moments ago, “I trust you. I want this, and I want you.”

He lets out a relaxed sigh, chuckling again. He nods, “Okay.”

[gothcsz]

oh to have javi come over and seduce you when you're out at a bar and then fuck you so good you can't even think straight

tags: f!reader, mentions of infidelity, established relationship, no use of y/n, roleplaying, smut, unprotected p in v sex (be safe), any typos/grammar mistakes are of my own doing and i apologize in advance, if i missed any other tags pls let me know ok thx.

~ 2k w/c - gif cred

a/n: you guys must be stopped! leaving me sexy prompts like this! i have no choice but to write themmmmm! i got an ask a few weeks ago talking about roleplaying with javi and well... i had to incorporate it somehow. also, that one scene in narcos (hence the gif…) hehe enjoy cariño 🖤

You sit hunched over your martini glass, idly swirling the ice. The air in the bar is warm and hazy, filled with laughter and conversations you’re barely aware of.

It’s been a long week—the kind of week that crawls under your skin and leaves you in desperate need of a drink.

You had left work with no destination in mind, eventually finding your way here, hoping your favorite cocktail would smooth out the edges before you had to face the quiet of home.

You take the last sip of your drink just as the bartender places a fresh one in front of you, her lips pulled into a knowing smile. “Courtesy of the cute guy down there,” she says, jerking her head toward the end of the bar. Instinctively, you turn to look.

And he’s… well, calling him cute feels criminally inadequate.

He’s handsome as hell, with dark, captivating eyes and features that would look more at home on the big screen than here, in the half-light of this neighborhood bar.

He smirks like he knows exactly the effect he has. You meet his gaze, lift your glass in acknowledgment, and take a careful sip.

That’s all the invitation he needs. He slides off his stool, weaving his way through the scattered crowd until he’s beside you, easing into the empty seat with a smoothness that feels almost practiced.

The confidence only adds to his appeal.

“Didn’t know people still did this,” you say with a wry smile, though you’re subconsciously reveling in the attention.

You shift your hand subtly, so the glint of your ring catches the light—a reflex, a reminder to yourself and a warning for him.

His gaze sweeps over you with an unapologetic gleam. “Did I come off too strong? Couldn’t help myself, especially not with a beautiful woman drinking alone. Feels like fate.”

You laugh, the sound escaping you before you can stop it. There’s something invigorating about his brazen confidence, and he seems to notice, leaning a little closer.

“He must be out of town or something,” he murmurs, his eyes drifting down to the diamond on your ring finger. “No way he’d let you sit here all by yourself.”

You tilt your chin up a little, defiant. “I’m perfectly capable of going out on my own, thank you very much.”

He hums, a low, amused sound as he lifts his glass and takes a slow sip. The scent of bourbon reaches you, mingling with the subtle notes of smoke and black teakwood radiating from him.

“So you’re married,” He murmurs, more of an observation than a question.

“Three years,” you reply, and when his brow arches with playful curiosity, you can’t help but feel the tiniest thrill. There’s something intoxicating about a stranger’s interest, especially one with beautiful brown eyes that linger just a second longer than they should.

“Three years… Happily?” His words are gentle, teasing, yet they strike a nerve, and you can’t help but tip your head back and giggle, feeling the warmth of the alcohol and his presence loosening something inside you.

“Is this your thing?” you ask, feigning suspicion as you lean toward him, a mischievous glint in your eyes. “Chasing after lonely, married women at bars?”

His head tilts slightly, intrigued. “Lonely?” he echoes, the word rolling off his tongue like a test. His brow lifts just a fraction. “Now, don’t tell me he’s not taking care of you.”

You straighten, getting a little defensive. “He does, trust me,” you say, and though you mean it, there’s a flicker of something—a crack in the polished surface you present. “It’s just… his job. He works long hours, and it’s been hard, not seeing each other as much as we used to.”

You’re definitely tipsy, venting to this stranger that’s hitting on you about your marriage and how it’s fallen into a rut recently. To keep yourself from digging yourself a deeper hole, you drink more of your cocktail.

As if sensing the vulnerability behind your words, he leans in closer, his attention unbreakable, drawing you in like a force of gravity. His eyes move, tracing the shape of your lips against your glass, dipping down to the glimpse of lace beneath your blouse.

He lets out a low, exaggerated sigh, shaking his head as he lifts his drink again. “Shame, really,” he murmurs, eyes flicking back to meet yours. “If it were me, no job would keep me from a wife as stunning as you.”

His words hit you like a warm gust of wind, filling you with a sudden, startling awareness of how long it’s been since anyone looked at you like this, made you feel desired. And you can’t really blame your husband, you knew what you were getting yourself into when you said yes to his proposal—how demanding his job is.

But all of your logical reasoning seems to disappear entirely in the presence of this rugged, attractive man.

Your cheeks heat, and instinctively, your thighs press together. He notices, a spark of amusement lighting his face as he leans just a bit closer.

And then, his hand lands on your thigh, his fingers spreading out over the fabric of your pants. It’s a daring move, but there’s something about it that thrills you, and you feel a low hum of excitement settling in your core.

Oh, he’s bold.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, though there’s no true bite in your voice.

“Just testing the waters,” his hand inches slightly higher, fingertips grazing your skin. He leans in, breath warm against your ear, and your skin curls. “Seeing if I’m readin’ things right.”

“Are you?” The words are barely audible, more of a breath than a question, but he hears you.

“Why don’t you tell me?” he murmurs, his thumb rubbing circles that send electricity up your leg.

You swallow, feeling a surge of reckless abandon taking over as you ask, “What’s your name?”

“Javier,” he answers, “Call me Javi. Or whatever you want, really.”

“And what makes you think I’d throw away years of my relationship for one night with you, Javi?”

His smile morphs into a cocky smirk, confidence radiating off him. “Because,” he whispers, eyes glazed over with a heat that makes your pulse race, “I’d make it worth your while.”

For a second, you consider letting him take you on this bar in front of all these people. His hand squeezes your thigh gently, the pressure igniting a spark low in your belly. 

He leans back, his gaze fixed on you as he studies your face, waiting, watching for any sign of permission.

At last, you let out a breath, reaching down to place your hand over his. With a polite smile, you slide it off your leg. “I can tell that handsome face of yours always gets you what you want. That won’t be the case tonight, but I’m flattered. Thank you for the drink, Javier.”

He drags his thumb across his bottom lip, a slow, almost contemplative gesture as his gaze rakes over you one last time. “No problem,” he says, voice dripping with an almost playful disdain. “Have fun with your husband.” His words dance in that gray area between teasing and tempting.

You know better than to stay any longer, aware that another moment with him will get you in trouble. It’s already dangerous that you let his hand linger on you, already a risk that your mind wandered to how blissful a night with him would be. You’re not the kind of person who cheats—or at least, you didn’t think you were.

He downs the rest of his drink, his eyes fixed on you with that lingering, dark curiosity before he finally pushes back, letting the warmth of his presence slip away like a tide retreating, leaving you almost breathless.

You can’t believe yourself, how part of you feels ready to throw caution to the wind for one more minute in his attention. 

A surge of longing—a need to feel desired, to feel seen—overcomes you. Before you can stop yourself, your voice slips out, soft but clear. “Actually…”

He halts, that cocky smile curling at the edges as he turns, his eyes glinting as he faces you, slowly, like a cat stalking back into a room. His grin grows wider, a spark of victory there as he watches you, waiting for what you’ll say.

“I think I could use another drink.”

Your body is flush against Javier’s, his skin hot and slick beneath your fingers as you straddle his lap on the couch. Every inch of you feels alive, heightened, as you move with purpose, grinding down on him like the cock starved woman that you’ve turned into.

He fills you perfectly, stretching and pressing in ways that make your toes curl and your mind blur. Sweat slips down your spine as you cling to him, feeling his mouth on your neck, trailing heated kisses that turn into little bites on your chin, each one sending another jolt of pleasure through you.

His hands are rough and possessive, gripping your ass and guiding your movements, matching the frantic, hungry rhythm you’ve both built together.

There’s nothing but him—the heat, the pressure, the way he’s burying himself in your cunt.

You’re mindless, every thrust bringing you closer to that tipping point. You can feel your pussy tightening around him, already on the edge.

You’ve lost count of how many times he’s coaxed you to release tonight. On his tongue, his fingers—each one drowning you in white heat and leaving you gasping.

This one on his cock, though, is building with a tantalizing pressure, leaving you almost immobile as you near it.

Your body is already feeling sore.

“Look so pretty bouncing on my cock.” His praise, laced with his own need, sends you over.

You shudder, your walls clenching around him as you gush your creamy release all over his cock. Your head falls back while another orgasm surges through you, crying out his name.

He growls in response, shifting you beneath him, your back hitting the cushions as he moves over you. His hips snap forward, each thrust sending another shock of pleasure through your oversensitive body until he pulls out with a grunt, fist jerking his cock until his milky release paints across your skin, warm and sticky.

You’re both panting, bodies sated and tangled together in a haze of lust and satisfaction.

He leans his weight onto you, pressing close without a care for the mess between you as he buries his face in your neck, letting your heartbeats slowly calm in sync. 

“Lonely, huh?” he murmurs, his voice gravelly, breaking the cozy silence.

You can’t help but snort softly, fingers finding their way into his dark hair and giving it a playful tug, a gentle reprimand. “It’s true.”

Javier pulls back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes tender and filled with that unmistakable love, deep and unguarded. “I’m sorry, baby,” your husband whispers, shifting up on one arm while his other hand finds your cheek, his thumb brushing softly against your skin. “I promise it won’t always be like this.”

His words settle into you and you nod, still feeling the lazy warmth in your body from his touch, his kiss. Your legs wrap snugly around his waist, pulling him close. “I know, Javi. I don’t always feel like that, and I see how hard you work to make it home to me.”

He leans down, brushing his nose against yours. You close the distance, pressing a light kiss to his still-swollen lips, savoring the feeling of him so close.

After a beat, he chuckles, a playful glint flickering in his eyes. “Gotta say, the whole ‘strangers at the bar’ thing was kind of hot. Had me wondering just how many guys try their luck when you’re out there alone.”

Your lips curve into a smirk, mirroring his. “Likewise. You’re a natural flirt without meaning to.”

He scoffs playfully, shaking his head. “Other women haven’t existed to me since we met, mi amor.”

Then he goes and says things like that, a reminder of all the little ways he shows you how much you mean to him.

started a tag list for my works here, so if you're interested— pls check it out 🖤

🏷️ : @almostempty . @auteurdelabre . @persephone-girl . @magneticecstasy . @miss-oranje-disco-dancer . @pepperstories . @greenwitchfromthewoods . @maiyart . @pedrohoe04 . @natalieispunk . @thewisesalmon . @bitchesuntitled . @puddles221b . @swankyorange . @bbyanarchist . @thottiewinemom . @heyhihello-4771 . @danaehldy . @sunflowerfive . @libre-sol . @harriedandharassed . @untamedheart81 . @moel-jiller . @honeyedmiller . @alexxavicry . @angiewatson . @sunshinefive . @oldenoughtoknowbettersstuff . @dinanabuu

[mya-valentine]

Can I have some headcanons for Izuku, Katsuki, Shoto, and Tenya meeting a General Studies student, (1-C) and who’s personality is the embodiment of someone with their head in the clouds, just very relaxed and aloof and just in a permanent drunken sleep state.

(Also, Thank you for the spicy ramen scenario!.. It made me laugh so hard!.. With the League dying due to the spice, Kurogiri being a mom, and the ending with a young girl showing up a bunch of dangerous villains XD.)

Headcanon: Izuku Midoriya, Katsuki Bakugo, Shoto Todoroki, and Tenya Iida Meeting a Relaxed, Aloof General Studies Student

Izuku Midoriya

Izuku is instantly intrigued by your laid-back and dreamy nature. At first, he’s a bit confused by how relaxed and nonchalant you seem, especially when you don’t stress over the little things like he does.

He’s curious about how you function in school with such an aloof demeanor, so he starts observing you and jotting down notes on your behavior.

“How do they manage to stay so calm in stressful situations?!” he wonders, almost envious of your ability to not get flustered easily.

Izuku tries to strike up conversations with you, but he quickly realizes your responses are sometimes... delayed. You might trail off mid-sentence or get lost in your thoughts, and Izuku has to gently guide the conversation back.

Over time, he finds your presence calming and actually enjoys spending time with you because you remind him to take a step back and not overthink everything.

Katsuki Bakugo

Bakugo’s first reaction to your aloofness is pure annoyance. He can’t stand how you seem like you’re in a permanent daydream, and it drives him crazy.

“Oi! Wake the hell up and pay attention!” He probably yells at you more than necessary, thinking you’re just slacking off.

However, when he sees that your aloof nature doesn’t mean you’re incompetent, it throws him off. You're actually quite capable, just moving at your own pace. He grudgingly starts to respect you.

Bakugo tries to get a rise out of you with his usual brashness and insults, but when you just shrug or smile lazily, it leaves him speechless. “You’re not even gonna react?!?!”

Eventually, he learns to just let you be, realizing that nothing he says will get under your skin. He might even start finding your constant calmness a little admirable (not that he’d ever admit it).

Shoto Todoroki

Shoto doesn’t mind your aloof, relaxed attitude. In fact, he relates to it a bit. He’s not one to get overly emotional either, so your chill vibe doesn’t bother him.

He appreciates your company because you never pressure him to talk or react in a certain way. You both can sit in comfortable silence, and he likes that you’re not overly talkative or demanding.

Shoto finds your dreamy, “head in the clouds” personality oddly fascinating. He might ask you questions about how you stay so carefree, genuinely wanting to know your secret to avoiding stress.

Occasionally, he’ll catch you zoning out, and he’ll subtly snap you back to attention with a quiet, “You’re drifting again.”

He finds your aloofness refreshing. It’s a change from the more intense personalities around him, and he might even start adopting some of your relaxed mindset during calmer moments.

Tenya Iida

Tenya is baffled by your carefree attitude. As someone who thrives on structure and discipline, your constant relaxed state throws him off completely.

He’s initially worried that you’re slacking or not taking your studies seriously, and he feels the need to correct your behavior. “You should be more focused! This is an important time in your academic career!”

When he realizes that despite your aloofness, you’re still doing just fine in your classes, Tenya is confused but impressed. He tries to understand how you balance being so laid-back while staying competent.

Tenya becomes determined to make you “wake up” a bit and focus more on your surroundings, often lecturing you in his usual intense manner. You, of course, just smile and nod, which leaves him both exasperated and slightly amused.

Over time, he softens around you, realizing your personality is just different from his. He might still give you friendly reminders to focus, but he’ll start to appreciate how calm you are, especially when he’s feeling stressed.

.

.

.

Masterlist

[ceaselesswatchersspecialboy]

Offering an NPD perspective on Ford Pines, because I feel the most common discussions surrounding his narcissistic traits tends to go in two ways — from what I’ve personally seen — and that’s defending him, and denying the mere possibility he may have NPD because it’s seen as a negative, or using NPD as a way to villainise him, and thus demonise NPD. Or, the alternative, this part of his character is completely overlooked.

That isn’t to say I haven’t seen some wonderful analyses on Ford and NPD, rather, I find it surprisingly lacking when his character might be some of the best representation of my own experience struggling with narcissism (alongside Bill).

I believe a lot of it stems from the misconception and stigma around NPD, and the fact Ford goes again common, typically incorrect, ideas, such as showing genuine care for other people, and accepting his failures and where he went wrong in the end, trying to repair his relationship with Stan, and realising that he doesn’t need to be recognised worldwide, as he’s found happiness with his family instead. All of these do not correlate with the media idea of a narcissist, but the fact is, narcissists are no different from any other disorder or mental health issue. We come in all different forms, and the idea we are inherently abusive or evil is such a widespread misconception that it becomes difficult getting help or support.

And that’s why I find Ford so important.

This alone, to me, describes in simple words how it feels to deal with NPD, and though you could argue Bill is projecting here, I think the point is they’re so similar, the lines blur. Both struggle with this same mentality, but Ford is able to reach out, and accept help, and Bill lets himself sink deeper and deeper into his own lies. Also, I’d argue it isn’t Bill projecting, because we sees evidence of this behaviour in Ford in the show and the journal.

He’s someone who believes himself destined for greatness, and won’t accept the bare minimum, such as when Fiddleford suggests he publish his research as is — No, he can’t have that. He has to be the one to uncover this grand theory. He has to have his name cemented amongst the greats. He believes himself to be special, different and more capable than other people, and yet he longs for the company of others all the same. He lives off of validation and praise, and strives for it, his own ego clashing against his lack of self-worth. Bill’s manipulations work on him because Ford eats up this sort of validation — it’s like one big high. It’s confirmation he is special. He is meant for greater things. He was right.

Ford notably struggles with empathy, which is likely both related to his autism, and also his narcissism. Other people simply don’t make sense to him. It takes effort for him to be able to understand people where they’re at, and he is willing to put in that effort notably, taking note of Fiddleford’s habits for example.

He also does struggle with manipulation and being deeply self-centred. A great example being Dipper’s apprenticeship. Ford is very subtly manipulating the situation here, and he doesn’t even notice, which is, in my own experience, common with NPD. He’s also unable to see Dipper and Mabel as, well, Dipper and Mabel, rather putting his own issues with Stan onto them, especially Dipper. He sees Dipper as a younger version of himself, and is trying to point him in that direction, never thinking whether it’s actually right for Dipper, or whether it’s for himself.

I could probably go on, like how he tends to have a black and white view of people, with his opinions on them easily flicking between extremes as a method of coping, or how he panics at the idea of his life’s work being destroyed, despite knowing the dangers.

Whether you agree he has NPD or not, Ford definitely has a lot of narcissistic traits, and yet, despite that, despite every mistake he’s made, everyone he’s pushed away, he gets a second chance. He gets to be loved and understood. He finds happiness. He gets to recover.

It’s very rare that characters with so many narcissistic traits get endings like that!

Ford is not a bad person because he’s a narcissist, he’s just a person, one who’s fucked up, and who’s still learning, and still healing, and that’s why he works. That’s why he’s such a comfort.

On a final note, If you are someone who’s going to argue vehemently against this idea, I kindly ask you simply scroll by!

[dreamwritesimagines]

The Eye of the Hurricane [34] - Cage

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful feedback, you made my day! ❤️I hope you’ll like this chapter as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think! ❤️

Summary: Lack of honesty can cause resentment.

Word Count: 2700

Pairing: MobBoss!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Warnings: Violence, guns, crime, blood, explicit language, dysfunctional relationship, mentions of sex. This is an AU, friendly reminder that I don’t condone any of the actions depicted on this story and please read with care.

Series Masterlist

If anything, your day started out pretty calm.

You were petting Alpine with one hand while scribbling on the paper with the other, and you stole a look at Bucky when he entered the kitchen. He ran a hand through his damp hair and you inhaled the scent of his aftershave as subtly as you could, pretending to be busy with the file in front of you while he made his way to the coffee machine to fill himself a cup of coffee.

You could feel his glances on you as he leaned back on the counter, sipping his coffee but you ignored him until he cleared his throat.

“So when is that asshole leaving?”

You stopped petting Alpine and lifted your head to look at him better.

“Who, Rhett?” you asked. “He just got here.”

“Doesn’t he have a city to rule?”

“He left his right hand in his place, apparently,” you told him. “Why?”

“Just curious.”

You hummed, spinning your pen between your fingers.

“You should be nicer to him, you know.”

He scoffed into his coffee mug. “Yeah sorry, I’m not capable of being nice to dickheads who gaze at my wife longingly.”

“What?”

“I’m already being civil by not shooting him, and that’s only because you told me not to.”

“You’re not going to shoot—he doesn’t gaze at me longingly, Bucky.”

“Oh he does,” he shot back. “In fact, I bet he has a plan.”

Your frown deepened. “What plan?”

“He wants to—he wants to take you to Chicago,” he said, motioning vaguely and you tilted your head, your mouth slightly open. “Yeah, he’ll feed you some bullshit about never being over you—”

“He is very much over me.”

“And he will ask you to go rule Chicago with him, and then I’ll shoot him and feed his fucking body to the dogs—”

“Can I just interrupt that very creative theory with some truth?” you asked him as Alpine jumped from the counter to the floor. “Number one, even if he weren’t over me, it wouldn’t fucking matter because I am over him.”

His eyes searched yours as if he was trying to see if you were telling the truth. “…Are you?”

“Absolutely,” you said. “Number two, whoever he is with -which is not going to be me, by the way- will not be ruling Chicago with him. Chicago’s rules are different, the crown moves through blood there. Spouses are irrelevant, they’re treated worse than heirs, or right arms. Don’t get me wrong, I hate the bitch who he’s going to marry because she’s a terrible person, but I kind of feel bad for her too because no one will ever take her seriously. King consort or queen consort, doesn’t matter because they have zero power, except for providing heirs and strengthening the loyalty of families.”

Bucky blinked a couple of times. “Jesus, and we say we have medieval rules.”   

“Exactly,” you said. “And number three, I know we both keep forgetting it but we are in fact married. Even if I weren’t over him, me going to Chicago would be grounds for war and only an idiot—”

“Trojan War started the same way, didn’t stop anyone.”

“I appreciate the compliment but I’m not the underworld edition of Helen of Troy,” you pointed out. “That’s not what’s going to happen here. Unless Eric Bana shows up, that is.”

“Which one was he in that movie, Paris?”

“Hector,” you said with a sigh. “The things I’d do to him…”

“I’m glad we had this conversation because now I will have to add him to my hitlist as well.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“The point is,” you said. “I’m not starting a war between Chicago and New York for an ex. Because that’s what Rhett is. An ex.”

“He doesn’t see you as just an ex,” Bucky told you. “You said it yourself. He trusts you.”

The sight of Rhett’s car by the campus outside your building made you stop dead in your tracks only for a moment. You could feel the smile pulling your lips as you approached him, and he took off his sunglasses to grin at you.

“Hey stranger.”

“Hey,” you said. “Look at that, you survived.”

“Mm hm.”

“I take it the same can’t be said for Lucas?”

“For him or any of his men,” he stated, leaning back to his car. “He was waiting exactly where you said he was.”

You nodded your head. “How pissed off was your father?”

“Very pissed off,” he said. “But I think it worked out pretty well, you know? Now we have sent a message.”

“The ultimate golden heir is not to be crossed or challenged,” you teased him with a small smirk. “That’s a good message.”

He heaved a sigh, his tongue darting out to wet his lips.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you warn me?” he asked. “I mean, aside from the orgasms I gave you—”

“That was a mutual transaction,” you pointed out, making him let out a chuckle and hold up his hands.

“It really was,” he said. “But seriously, we were broken up. And I know what promise he dangled in front of you. What, you didn’t even consider it?”

You made a face, shaking your head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“New York values loyalty over power,” you said. “That’s what I grew up with. I don’t do business with greedy backstabbers, neither would my father or anyone else in New York. Once a traitor, always a traitor.”

Rhett’s gaze was fixed on you, a light crossing his eyes as he let out a breath.

“Jesus…” he muttered. “One last transaction, cupcake?”

“Nope,” you said with a laugh. “Then we will get attached and we can’t have that. You have a city to take over, and I’m too smart to be put in the background in someone else’s empire.”

Rhett smiled softly.

“My father won’t do business with anyone in New York,” he said, and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I know. Everyone knows.”

“Neither will I,” Rhett said. “Until you need my help.”

Your eyes shot up to his, your stomach doing a happy flip.

“You’d do that for me?” you asked and he nodded.

“You saved my life, and proved that I can in fact trust you,” he said. “Chicago values loyalty above everything else. The least I can do is pay back the favor.”

A smile warmed your face. “I’ll come to collect, Rhett.”

“Looking forward to it,” he said and extended his hand. “Pleasure doing business with you, cupcake.”

You let out a giggle, and shook his hand.

“Yeah,” you said. “Likewise.”  

“Because I earned his trust,” you told him as his phone vibrated and he checked the screen, then typed something. Even if you wanted to ask who it was, you managed to control yourself, biting inside your cheek.

“Dr. Raynor rescheduled the therapy session for the evening,” you told him. “Your assistant told you?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I have a meeting with Anna before that so I might be a bit late but I’ll be there.”

Your brows shot up, that familiar bitterness burning your mouth. “With Anna?”

“Mm hm,” he said. “Gotta go, I’ll see you there,”

With that, he walked out of the apartment and closed the door behind him, and Alpine jumped back on the counter, meowing at you in a very demanding manner. You heaved a sigh, stroking over her soft fur.

“We’re not going to threaten Anna,” you told her, “Because that’s a fucking insane thing to do, and we’re very logical, rational individuals, right Alpine?”

Alpine meowed again and you nodded your head.

“Mm hm,” you muttered. “Exactly.”

                                               *

“I mean it’s not that I’m jealous,” you assured Becca who only watched you with her brows raised. “Obviously that’s not what’s happening here.”

She hummed, sipping her coffee.

“It’s just that she’s a bit too friendly with him I feel like.”

“Like Rhett is a bit too friendly with you?”

“That’s very different!” you protested. “Rhett and I are going to make a deal!”

“Anna already has a deal with Bucky.”

“Whose side are you on?” you asked, sulking and she let out a laugh.

“Yours, obviously,” she said. “But I’m just saying, maybe before pointing fingers, acknowledge the fact that Rhett liked you. A lot.”

“Liked,” you repeated. “Back then. Besides, I have no feelings for him and as I told Bucky, he will get married.”

“And he will have mistresses.”

“Probably,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Alice will kill them I’m guessing. She was quite obsessed with him even while we were dating and now that Rhett says he will marry her, I do not want to think about the lengths she’d go to.”

 Your phone buzzed on the table and you checked the screen, then tilted your head. “Huh.”

“Who is it?”

“Ethan,��� you said. “We haven’t talked in forever, apparently he was too busy and so was I. He wants to grab coffee sometime.”

“What is it with all your exes wanting to fuck you?” Becca asked, making your jaw drop.

“That’s not true!”

“No seriously, what are you doing to those guys?”

“I don’t do anything to them—you know what, we’re changing the subject,” you said as you put your phone back on the table. “Do you think I’ll be able to pull it off?”

“The deal?” Becca asked, “I’d say you already have.”

“Nothing is on paper yet.”

“It doesn’t matter, he flew here for that deal. He will make it.”

You drummed your fingernails on the table. “My father will have so many things to say about it I’m sure.”

“He can say whatever he wants—oh!” she sat up straighter. “Guess what I heard.”

“What?”

“Apparently, Ian is learning how to fight.”

You pulled your brows together. “I’m sorry?”

“Mm hm. His right hand is teaching him, the hot Hercules guy—”

“Ryan.”

“Yeah, him.”

You scoffed a laugh. “How did you hear about that?”

“Your father told my father and my father told my mom at breakfast,” she said. “Never too late to start I guess?”

“I mean he’s the heir,” you said with a sigh. “If the cage fight is happening…”

“You know how I feel about the cage fight tradition but for Ian’s case only, I will enjoy it,” she said. “I hate the son of a bitch.”

You squeezed her hand. “How Leila?”

“That’s actually why I wanted to meet up with you,” she said, huffing out a breath. “My mom kind of forced my hand.”

“How?”

“She and me and Leila are having brunch tomorrow.”

Your eyes widened. “What?”

“So I need you to tell me Leila won’t decide to dump me tomorrow.”

A small laugh escaped from your lips and you shook your head.

“She won’t,” you assured her. “Do you want me to be there? I will invite myself to that brunch, I don’t care what Winnifred thinks.”

 She looked like she was genuinely considering the idea before she made a face, then shook her head.

“Nah, I need to deal with this myself,” she muttered and you pressed a hand over your chest.

“Aw,” you said with a grin. “They grow up so fast.”

“Shut it,” she said, kicking at your shoe with hers, making you gasp. “But I’m going to need all the moral support I can get, so you will be by the phone the whole time, alright?”

You let out a laugh. “Deal.”

                                                    *

Bucky was late to the therapy session as he said he would be by fifteen minutes, and when he got there, he was rather tense. Even if you wanted to ask what had happened, you knew you couldn’t in front of the therapist so you raised your brows at him but he shook his head.

“So,” Dr. Raynor said, “Let’s pick up from where we left off the last time. How have things progressed in terms of your communication with your ex-boyfriend in the picture?”

“Him being my ex-boyfriend doesn’t play a part in our communication or lack thereof,” you said quickly and Bucky clicked his tongue.

“It definitely does.”

“I think what plays an important part in our communication is the fact that Bucky doesn’t exactly trust me.”

Bucky blinked a couple of times and turned to look at you better.

“I don’t think you should be pointing fingers here, Charm.”

“I do trust you!” you protested, making him scoff.

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“You know what, if you’re being like this because I didn’t give you one tiny little detail about my plan—”

“One tiny little detail?” Bucky repeated with a laugh. “Try the whole plan.”

“You wouldn’t even spare me a glance if I pulled the shit you did back in that back alley,” you finished your sentence as if he didn’t cut you off and that seemed to take him by surprise. He gawked at you, then licked his lips, shaking his head.

“Are you serious right now?”

“What happened in the back alley?” Dr. Raynor asked, her voice almost too calm and Bucky gritted his teeth, leaning back in the couch as if he was uncomfortable all of a sudden.

“It was ages ago,” he said curtly and you hummed.

“And you never apologized.”

“I did apologize—”

“Asking me if I’m still mad via text does not count as an apology, Bucky.”

“What happened?” Dr. Raynor asked and you took a deep breath, then crossed your arms.

“I had a silly little crush on Bucky years and years ago,” you said. “Before I left for college, I made the mistake of telling him about it.”

“Charm.”

“And it’d be fine if he only turned me down but nope,” you spat, that bitter taste burning your throat again. “He had to humiliate me.”

“I didn’t humiliate—”

“Yes you did,” you cut him off and he ran a hand over his face, then motioned at Dr. Raynor.

“Are we seriously going to do this in front of her?”

“Why not?” you said. “That’s what the therapy is for.”

“And you resent him for it, Y/N?” Dr. Raynor asked and Bucky scoffed a laugh.

“Oh she hates me for it,” he corrected her and you shrugged your shoulders.

“I’m not saying I don’t trust you, I’m just saying that if I didn’t trust you, it would be with a reason.”

“Right.”

“Was there a reason behind it, Bucky?”

“No there wasn’t, other than the fact that he wanted to humiliate me.”

“Charm.”

“Y/N, open communication is very important and a huge part of it is listening,” Dr. Raynor said, making you shake your head.

“No, he really didn’t have a reason other than the fact that he was the city’s golden prince who thought—”

“My father wanted us to end up together,” Bucky cut you off, making you pull your brows together in confusion and you turned your head to gawk at him.

“What?” you asked after a beat and Bucky clicked his tongue.

“Yeah,” he said. “He kept talking about how it would be good for the business, how I should visit you in Chicago when you’d leave for college and…all that bullshit.”

You blinked a couple of times in complete silence and Bucky bit inside his cheek.

“I mean obviously I didn’t see you that way back then, but I wouldn’t have been that much of an asshole to you if that was the only reason,” he told you, his voice almost inaudible. “I thought…I thought you were yet another cage he would drag me into, that’s it.”

You could barely hear anything from the way your heart was pounding in your ears and Bucky swallowed thickly, then stole a look at Dr. Raynor and took a deep breath.

“Yeah no, I’m not doing this shit in front of a stranger,” he muttered and got up from the couch as if he was too restless, then walked out of the office and slammed the door behind him. The sound snapped you out of your haze and you jumped on your feet, grabbing your purse.

“Thanks Dr. Raynor,” you said in a haste and walked out of the office as well but by the time you stepped outside, Bucky’s car had already driven off. You let out a breath, then leaned back to the wall on the building and rubbed at your eyes.

“Oh…” you murmured more to yourself. “Fuck.”

Chapter 35

[shizuturnspages]

Yandere Sumeru boys headcannons

Characters: Alhaitham, Cyno, Tighnari, Kaveh

Warnings: Curse words

Author's Notes: I don't usually write headcannons, but it's 3:51 am right now, and I'm bored :)

The images do not belong to me. They have been taken from Pinterest. Credits to the original owners.

Alhaitham

❥ Alhaitham is a logical, rational asshole. But that’s exactly what makes him a terrifying yandere. He doesn’t go for the crazed, irrational shit. No, he's cold, clinical, and he will plan every damn move like he’s playing fucking chess with your life. You're a puzzle he has to solve, and the solution? Oh, it's him. Always. No fucking escape.

❥ In Alhaitham's mind, once he's figured you out, that’s it. No one else deserves to even fucking look at you. His understanding of you is so complete that it becomes his sole justification for controlling every aspect of your life. He knows what’s best for you, even better than you do. He will cut off your ties to others in subtle ways, leaving you wondering how the hell you became so isolated. Oh, it was him, sweetheart.

❥ This dude’s not gonna stab someone in broad daylight like some psycho—he’s a fucking genius. He’ll use your own thoughts against you. He’ll subtly gaslight you into believing no one else is as capable of understanding you like he does. You’ll start to think maybe he’s the only one who truly gets you, and by the time you realise what’s happening, it's too late. You’re trapped in his web.

❥ Alhaitham would be the kind of yandere who sabotages your other relationships without you even knowing it. Oh, your friend suddenly moved away? Strange. That one guy who liked you stopped talking to you out of nowhere? Weird, huh? He’ll always be there to comfort you, his stoic mask hiding the fact that he's orchestrating every single one of your problems just so he can fix them.

❥ Alhaitham’s biggest strength as a yandere is his ability to keep his shit together. You’ll never see him snap, never see him lose his cool. But the second you try to leave him? Fucking hell breaks loose. He’ll track you down using logic and strategy like you’re nothing but a lost book in his library. And when he finds you? Oh, he’ll make sure you never even think about running again.

Cyno

❥ Cyno is all about justice. Well, that translates to some next-level protection for you. But not the cute kind. We're talking "anyone who looks at you wrong is gonna fucking disappear" kind of protection. He’ll see himself as your personal guardian, and no one—and I mean no one—gets to mess with you. He doesn’t care if you think it’s creepy; he knows what's best. Fuck your opinion.

❥ This guy’s got a black-and-white sense of right and wrong, and guess what? You’re always right in his eyes. But everyone else? They’re a threat. He’ll punish anyone who comes near you, ‘cause in his twisted sense of justice, they’re infringing on what’s his. He’ll never let you out of his sight because that would be “irresponsible” on his part. Yeah, he’s doing it for your “safety,” but really, it's all about keeping you locked down.

❥ Cyno is fiercely loyal, and as a yandere, this loyalty becomes suffocating as fuck. He doesn’t know how to do things halfway. You are his, and that’s not up for debate. You don’t get to leave, you don’t get to argue. He’ll follow you everywhere, even if you don’t want him to, always showing up like some shadow you can never fucking shake. And trust me, he won’t tolerate anyone trying to come between you two. That’s a death sentence.

❥ Oh, he loves his jokes, right? Well, as a yandere, he’ll still joke, but those jokes come with a deadly edge. You piss him off? He’ll laugh it off with some dark humor, but you can feel the unspoken threat in every word. And if someone other than him crosses you? Cyno’s “justice” is swift, brutal, and final. There’s no trial, no second chance—just his fucked up sense of justice.

❥ Cyno’s got that chill, deadpan vibe most of the time, but holy shit, when he cares about something—or someone—he becomes intense as fuck. If you ever tried to leave or betray him, that calm exterior would fucking crack. He’d hunt you down like he’s enforcing divine judgment, and there’s no place you could hide. His cold, calculated demeanor makes him even more dangerous because you’ll never see that rage coming until it’s too fucking late.

Tighnari

❥ Tighnari’s a fucking genius when it comes to the wilderness. You think you can run from him? Oh, hell no. He’ll use the forest itself to keep you in line. Poisonous plants? Deadly traps? Oh, he’s got all that shit covered. He’s not gonna let you leave his side, and if you try, well… let’s just say the forest has a funny way of making people disappear.

❥ Tighnari’s soft-spoken and gentle on the surface, right? But underneath that shit is a fucking possessive streak you won’t believe. He’s always making sure you’re “okay,” and by okay, he means under his control. He’ll play the caring, concerned partner, using his knowledge of herbs and remedies to keep you close, always “healing” you when you don’t even realise you’re being fucking poisoned. Yeah, he’s got that soft look, but it hides something twisted.

❥ Tighnari’s a smart fucker, no doubt about that. He’ll use his intelligence to gaslight the hell out of you. Oh, you think those berries made you sick? Nah, you’re just paranoid. He’ll make you second-guess every fucking thing, twisting your reality until you can’t even trust your own instincts. He’ll be your only reliable source of “truth,” and by then, he’s got you trapped—mentally and physically.

❥ Tighnari’s got a bond with the forest, so you’re basically under its watchful eye too. He’ll set up barriers—physical and psychological—using his connection to nature to always know where you are. The animals? They’re his spies. You try to run? He’ll know before you even take a damn step. And when he catches you? Oh, he’ll smile that gentle smile, reminding you that there’s no place you can hide from him in his territory.

❥ As a caretaker, Tighnari will spoil you, but it comes with a price. He’ll shower you with attention, making sure you’re always “healthy” and “happy,” but his version of care is suffocating as fuck. He’ll control your meals, your sleep, even your thoughts, all under the guise of concern. You wanna leave? Nah, he’ll convince you that the outside world is too dangerous, and only he can keep you safe.

Kaveh

❥ Kaveh’s a sensitive soul. Well, as a yandere, he’s all over the place emotionally. One minute he’s showering you with affection, and the next? Oh, he’s guilt-tripping the hell out of you. You’re his muse, his reason for living, but if you so much as look at someone else? Boom—he’s spiraling into jealous rants, throwing himself into emotional breakdowns that leave you feeling like you’re responsible for his sanity.

❥ Kaveh’s creative mind would turn his obsession into something artistic, but it’s got a creepy edge. He’ll draw, paint, and sculpt you over and over again, but it’s not flattering—it’s fucking eerie. His art becomes a shrine to you, and he’ll get pissed if you don’t appreciate it the way he expects. And God forbid you question why every piece makes you look like you’re trapped. Oh, he’ll say you “just don’t get the meaning.”

❥ Kaveh’s not the type to outright control you at first; no, he’ll do it through passive-aggressive manipulation. He’ll guilt-trip you into staying by his side, making you feel like if you leave, you’re abandoning him in his time of need. He’ll make you feel like he needs you more than you need him, and before you know it, you’re stuck in this cycle of constantly trying to make him feel better while he wraps his twisted little vines around your life.

❥ Kaveh’s been broke before. So now that he’s got his shit together, he’ll use that financial stability as a way to control you. He’ll act like he’s helping you out, offering to take care of your needs, but it’s all part of his fucking plan to make you dependent on him. The more you rely on him, the more he’ll tighten his grip, using guilt and money as tools to bind you. And if you try to break free? He’ll remind you how much he’s done for you.

❥ Kaveh’s the type who’d make everything symbolic. Every moment, every gift, every glance—he’ll attach deep, emotional meanings to shit you don’t even think about. He’ll remember every little detail about your life, and if you ever try to leave, he’ll throw it all back in your face. “How could you forget that time we shared [random moment]?” He’ll weaponize memories, making you feel like leaving him would be the ultimate betrayal.

[lesinquietes]

Summary: Seeking a fresh start, you and three others rent an old house in the countryside. There’s an issue with the boiler, but other than that, the place is in good condition. Your friends fall in love with the mansion’s aged charm and solitude. You wish you could join them in their excitement. Unfortunately, you can’t stop thinking about the basement. Something about the cool, barren atmosphere both tempts and horrifies you. You get the sense that, if you ever tread there, the darkness won’t hesitate to engulf you. Your final breath, as your soul is expelled from your body, will be used to utter the culprit’s name: Alucard. Only in death will you find reprieve. The problem is, he doesn’t intend to let you perish. Pretty puppet, your suffering is merely the beginning of an immortal life by his side. Modern AU.

Pairing: Yandere!Alucard x AFAB!Reader

Warning: 18+ (minors don’t interact), angst, horror, psychological manipulation, sexual themes, violence.

Next l

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

hello yes happy october do some of y’all remember this og story? couldn’t resist rewriting it for spooky season. and make no mistake — when I say spooky season, I don’t just mean october. fall and winter are seasons where odd things happen, usually out in nature. lets make these next few months extra chilling

The Basement’s Monster: Prelude

From the landing and through the open door, stairs made of old, unreliable wood dip down into a black abyss. Stone walls guide their path — wherever it may go — spurring the pleasant scent of damp cement and pungent moss. You can’t see the bottom. And despite this, part of you knows that there’s something there; something that’s ravenous.

You swallow. Both palms gripping the door frame, you feel as though your shoes are embedded in thick glaciers of ice, glueing you firmly in place. There’s a tug in your heart. It implores you to descend. It halfway convinces you that monsters and demons and all beings of lore don’t exist. You’re content that you know better than to indulge in cowardice disguised as logic.

Normally, you don’t believe in this sort of thing. Nothing out of the ordinary has occurred in your life that you’ve been incapable of explaining — until now. You don’t know how to conceptualize what you felt upon walking through the door of this decrepit mansion. A mixture of sorrow and yearning, perhaps, with an additional emotion you can’t put your finger on. In any case, it drew you all the way here, to the basement door.

“(F/n)!”

You perk up. Her voice is distant, but that’s your friend. She’s upstairs with the real estate agent and the others. You open your mouth to call back. You can’t muster a sound. With a shaky hand, you rub the front of your neck. The sensation that there’s a palm pressed against it, squeezing only subtly, is unnerving. Predictably, there’s nothing there.

Defeated, you close your dry lips and direct your attention back to the darkness. You peer through the shadows, as though your eyes are capable of slicing through all obscurity, powerful as the Light of Christ. A sobering quote from Nietzsche’s Beyond Good and Evil resounds in your head. For when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. You would be a fool to think the beast isn’t examining you, too.

On cue, words as bitter and husky as a tannic merlot travel a short distance to rest in your ears. His tone, deep and masculine, grips your shoulders like the talons of a mythical creature. Instantly, it stirs unrest in the pit of your waning soul. You can’t tell if you’re dissociating or on the cusp of a spiritual awakening.

Come, little one. Find me.

Gooseflesh appears on your arms. Your nipples harden when you register the breeze wafting up from the passageway. Your jaw unhooks, teeth chattering softly as you process what just transpired.

Realistically, there’s no way this is real. You hate to sound generic, but you conclude that it must have been your imagination; in fact, all of this probably is. You and your friends have been watching more horror movies than usual to amp up for Halloween. Haunted houses freak you out, and your brain has decided to torture you this evening.

Your knuckles are white from the force with which you’re gripping the frame, frightened that your will, alone, won’t be enough to keep you from exploring. You want to be positive that this truly is all in your head. The basement beckons for you to debunk the reality you’ve dedicated yourself to — the convenient lie that there are solely mortals residing on this plane of existence.

You want to satiate that curiosity of yours, no? Its teasing snicker is innately threatening. Come, pretty human.

Your head spins. Dizziness washes over you, nearly causing a heavy collapse. The voice is anxiety-inducing. You’re hanging onto consciousness by a thread.

You’re going crazy; that’s the only viable solution for this spell of hallucinations and delusions. Ghosts don’t exist. Demons don’t exist. Satan is an arguable concept.

But I classify myself as none of those creatures, sweetness.

When you let your eyelids fall, a silhouette appears in the darkness. You inhale sharply and refrain from blinking. You have to find your friends; unsupervised and weak, you could topple forwards and fall down the stairs.

Though I command fear not unlike the Archfiend, I do so to those who earn it.

Tears pool the bottoms of your strained petals, lubricating your orbs as you battle the trepidation afflicting you. You try to focus on your quivering breath. You can hear its tremble, as well as your quickening heartbeat, in your ears. It’s causing your temples to pound.

You don’t want to blink… but you have to.

You whimper meekly, the demon’s silhouette becoming clearer to you. It’s a being with a blood-coloured fedora and round, reflective lenses. He’s wearing a crimson overcoat, ruffled at his wide shoulders. You can’t decipher any more of his physical features; he’s intentionally shrouded them.

And you have not earned my ire.

In a deranged, wretched way, his claim placates you. If, in any form, this thing that’s haunting you is real, you want to trust that it means you no harm. You know that’s a fool’s game, however; main characters seldom benefit from bearing their neck to the foe.

I’ve been waiting for you, (f/n).

You blink. The silhouette is getting closer to you. Hes halfway up the basement stairs, and you can’t move a fucking inch.

Open your mind to me.

You’re panicking. You don’t want to let him in, but how does one open or close their mind? Again, if this is real, you’re a sitting duck to his influence. He’s far stronger than you could ever hope to be.

Your eyelids shut. He’s almost at the top step. You make out pale skin beneath a white dress shirt that’s accented with a scarlet ascot. Once more and he’ll have you.

That’s it; let me in.

He’s close enough to choke you. These were the hands you could have sworn you felt on your neck earlier; these were the fingers that toyed with the idea of wringing the vitality from your supple soul. Inwardly, you’re frantic. You might have a heart attack before this monster reaches you. Your pupils dilate as the man materializes in the darkness, like a menacing apparition. You wish you could run. Why can’t you run… why can’t you run?!

“(F/n)!”

You gasp. In an instant, his illusion is shattered; the beast retreats in the presence of a love, sucked back into his hole. You blink, and his figure is gone. No part of him, aside from the chilling memories he’s imprinted on you, remains.

You allow yourself to inhale greedily. Your lungs feel empty. Your heart doesn’t cease its galloping — it won’t for a while. An anxiety attack vibrates like thunder in your body. Whether you grasp it or not, this is merely the calm before the storm.

Mindfully, you crane your neck to the side, collecting your gaze from the unpredictable darkness. It’s a feat. The demon doesn’t want to release you from his manipulative hold, but he’s perceivably weaker than before. The presence of another human is diffusing his hypnosis.

There, a few feet away, stands the same friend who was calling your name earlier. Her name’s Ericson. Chocolate brown orbs sweep over you, assessing your physical state. Worry clouds them when she notices your expression. She tucks a long, brown strand behind her ear and swallows.

“Oh, shit… you don’t look so good.”

Fortunately, Ericson isn’t one to waste time. The young woman hooks her elbows beneath your arms and pries you away from the basement door. She helps you into a chair near the landing of the stairs. From there, she does what you were silently begging her to do; she shuts the basement door and secures the latch.

You exhale, unburdened and breathless. Finally, the nightmare has ended. You don’t hear his voice. You don’t see his image. You don’t feel drawn to his domain. You may be free of him. That begs the daunting question, though; if he wasn’t a product of your sanity slipping, what the fuck was he?

You groan, pressing cool fingertips to your warm forehead. Have you been stressed? Sure. Stress, alone, doesn’t warrant hallucinations, however. Until you have further evidence that you’re cracking, you have no choice but to believe what you experienced was beyond what mortals comprehend about existence.

“I… don’t know what just happened.” You confess, at last. “I felt… like I had to see the basement.”

Ericson rubs your shoulders from behind the chair, soothing you. It’s sweet of her. Your thoughts are marathoning at an Olympic pace, but your body is rooted in a slower reality.

“And… there was a guy down there… but… he wasn’t… he wasn’t…”

You’re unable to utter that you don’t think the perpetrator was another human being. It sounds silly, even as you rehearse the sentence in your head. Ericson will think you’re losing it.

“Easy.” She utters gingerly. “Chill out for a sec before you say more.”

She’s right. You could stand to decelerate. You take a moment to recalibrate yourself. What were you doing before this? Right. You were surveying the downstairs portion of the house while the others toured upstairs. You couldn’t shake your compulsion to investigate the basement. From the moment you walked through the front gate of the yard, and ventured up the cobblestone path, an invisible rope was tied around your torso, tugging it towards the monster. Ericson wouldn’t be telling you to settle down if she knew what was lurking directly below her feet.

Did she, or any of the others, feel it, too? You gulp. It wouldn’t hurt to check.

“This whole place feels wrong.” You admit vaguely. “Don’t you think?”

Much to your chagrin, she seems perplexed by your appraisal.

“Actually, we were just saying how peaceful it is here.”

Visibly, you recoil. Oof. Well, you can’t fault them for that. The market for renting a house is steep. You and your friends only found the posting for this estate because you wanted to move further away from the city. The renter — a family member of the previous owner, an old man — is offering the property for an exceptional price. If they don’t go with this one, they may not find a better deal.

“Look.” You start. “I felt something weird when I was standing near the basement… and it freaked me the fuck out.”

Ericson is adhering to you intently.

“What happened? Seriously. You said you saw a guy?”

“It wasn’t a guy so much as it was… like, a ghost or something.”

He wasn’t a ghost or a spectre, a demon or a moniker of Satan; he said so, himself. Nonetheless, at a loss for how else to describe him, that’s the fictional being you elected to choose. He doesn’t look like anything you’ve ever seen before, in books of old, in legends transcending cultures, in hieroglyphs from ancient people long gone — he’s something else entirely.

“A ghost?” She echoes.

“I don’t know.”

The two of you are quiet. She doesn’t buy your story. You can feel her judging you as she walks around the chair. Finally, she kneels in front of you. There’s a solemn emotion on her gentle visage.

“What can I do to make you feel better?” She asks. “I can install, like, ten locks on the basement door.”

You smile. It might not permanently solve the problem, but it does make you feel safer. Crazy or not, you want to stay separated from the basement. If you all agree to seal it up tight, you may be willing to accommodate their desire to rent. After all, you have no qualms with it beyond the monster that’s made a home in its guts.

“I’m just sketched out.”

She nods.

“Seems like it.”

“I just— I really think I saw something down there.”

“I believe you.”

She doesn’t, though. It’s uncomfortable to be the sole one who has an issue with this place. To the untrained eye, it looks like you’re purposefully being difficult. Guilt and shame wash over you. Is it fair for you to be writing this home off without hearing the opposite to your opinion?

“You all like it here?”

You prompt your friend.

“We do.” She shrugs. “It’s a forty-five minute drive to work for Nelly.”

That’s another one of your friends. She’s keeping her profession in the city, so it’s necessary for her to approve of the distance between there and her new pad. A commute of under an hour was one of her requests. Her second and final request is that the house is quiet. That’s two for two.

“Cree wants to head into town to look for work.”

Unsurprising. Cree didn’t do anything with his degree. He’s saving up to attend graduate school. As for town, it isn’t anything extravagant. There’s a small grocery store with a liquor hub inside, and a convenience store that’s open ‘til 9 beside it. A pharmacy is on the same strip of land, along with a hardware store. Pump-your-own gas is a couple kilometres down the street. Two cafes and a bookstore caught your eye when you were driving in. A couple of fast food joints, as well. Doesn’t Cree want better opportunities for himself? Maybe he can earn more money elsewhere.

“The previous owner didn’t have access to the Internet, but the realtor tested the connection and didn’t have a problem.” She explains. “So, I’m thinking I’ll do data entry and school.”

That makes sense. Ericson doesn’t need to leave the homestead often, so she’s comfortable in any location with wifi. A chill runs down your spine at the notion of her in this hellhole alone. That would make her easy prey.

“You said you’d need the Internet for work too, right?”

“Oh… yeah.”

That’s true. Your job is remote. You and Ericson can look out for each other, if all else fails. It might not be so bad. With one car shared amongst the four of you, and no community bus stops in this county, it’s not like she can forsake you. Already, the prospect of not being by yourself feels better.

Ericson studies your expression. She can tell you’re deliberating hard on whether or not to move into this option. Biassed, she prays she can convince you. She racks her brain to determine what she can use to show you how secure you’ll be with them. Beyond wanting to live here, she doesn’t care for the fear in your eyes. Although she doesn’t subscribe to the idea of supernatural creatures, she makes it her mission to comfort you.

“Nelly pole dances.”

“What?”

“Nelly pole dances.” She reiterates. “Do you know how much upper body strength that woman has? We’re safe with her.”

You suppose she’s an asset when it comes to physical threats. You ponder. Does the creature in the basement manifest itself into this sphere; could Nelly hurt him?

“And Cree offered to smudge us before we move in.”

You lift a curious brow.

“Smudge us?”

“Yeah. Like, he’ll cleanse the house too, obviously, but he said he wants us all to enter this chapter of our lives in a good place.”

Cree is an indigenous man. Proudly, he bears the same namesake as his people. His father was a healer, and thus, he carries with him similar techniques and energies, passed along by lineage and teaching. Again, you feel safer knowing he’s got the best intentions for you.

“And you know me.” She winks cheekily. “Orange belt.”

You chuckle shortly. She recently graduated from yellow to orange in her adult karate class. Soon after, she admitted that she knows a few defensive moves. She’s certainly not someone you’d want to rely on during a physical altercation, but she’s great for introducing logic into the conversation and, of course, comedic relief.

“With these things considered, would you be willing to give this place a chance?”

You want to be down; you want so badly to be down. You can tell this is where your friends wish to move, but you can’t shake the sensation that renting it would be a horrible idea. It isn’t your anxiety talking; there’s a predator beneath you.

“I need the realtor to check the basement.”

That’s your condition. If the realtor agrees to verify that no one else is in the house, and nothing is amiss in its depths, you’re willing to give the ageing building a shot.

“Right now?”

“Yeah.” You authenticate. “And the day we pick up the keys.”

The entity could be attached to one of the former’s tenant’s personal items. If that’s the case, moving his things out will eliminate the issue entirely. You’ve heard stories like that before, wherein a spirit is tied to a belonging and not the house it inhabits.

“Done.” Ericson claps. “Anything else?”

You shake your head. If things get exceptionally bad, you understand that the option of subletting your room will always be there. As much as you don’t want to contemplate having to abandon your companions, this thing only seems to be attacking you for now. Removing yourself could turn out to be the route you have to take in the end, should you want to retain your sanity.

“I’m in, so long as nothing strange happens during the inspections.”

Directly below your feet, the creature hums. Nothing weird. Fine, that’s a condition he can meet if it means he gets to keep you. He’ll shrink himself when the realtor steps into his space. The room will be welcoming. You’ll have no room to argue about a foreboding atmosphere without losing credibility. You’re a smart woman; you won’t disagree with the verdict for the sake of appeasing your friends.

He’s amused by your silly antics to hopelessly protect yourself. Smudging won’t help. He isn’t a spirit, and your ancestors can’t save you from the type of creature he is. Undead, he may be, but not the sort that hovers inches above the ground and howls mournfully through the tombstones; on the contrary, he’s a vampire.

He observes you with pleasant curiosity, as Ericson embraces your silent form giddily. She successfully convinced you to take up residence in this home. He didn’t have to influence her to do so; the house sold itself. But you understand the dangers that lurk down here, don’t you? Yes. Sweet little lamb, your pure heart calls to his pungent blackhole, coaxing him like prey frollicking through a clearing. He will have no choice but to pounce, should he entrance you into his domain.

You were correct to think that he’s bound to an item. He can go no further than the top landing, just beyond the basement door, and therefore, his influence over mortals is weak. The last time he roamed this earth freely was decades ago, in London, England. After a grand battle over two decades ago, he was bound to an amulet by a member of the Hellsing family. Miserably, it was his old master, Integra’s, last bitter gift to him; she never wanted him to taste true freedom.

Unfortunately, the old man has no relation to that family. If he was, the nightstalker might have given him a slow, painful death to make reparations between him and the Hellsings. Unceremoniously, he simply found the amulet at a thrift store. He demanded to see it outside of its locked display case. The second he held it, the vampire took advantage of his feeble nature. He bought the piece of jewellery. From then, until the day his relatives put his home up for rent, one name slithered through his transfixed mind: Alucard. He served only Alucard.

Disappointment rocked him when he realized that the male’s aged body was unable to handle the tasks required for him to be released from the amulet. He can’t kill a woman and spill her blood over his jewel. He can’t restrain you and force the gaudy thing around your neck. And he sure as hell can’t slit his own throat with all the dull blades he has lying around; he lacks the physical strength.

Planning to remove the old man for his senile behaviour — particularly when most of his oddities were spurred by Alucard’s sinister influence — was a rich outcome that the shapeshifter prayed to Death for. He wanted to lure someone like you into his clutches. He was waiting for an opportunity to be freed from his constricting prison.

He knows the amulet can’t be placed anywhere in clear sight. The realtor will see it if he makes the hiding spot too obvious. He’ll have to make one of your roommates discover its location — or, maybe you’re the perfect candidate for the task. He hasn’t decided how he wishes to orchestrate his release from this cursed piece of jewellery yet. One thing’s for certain, though; you’re going to play a crucial role in his resurgence. The others may perish in what is to come, but you? He’s growing a soft spot for you.

You’re guided upstairs to rejoin the rest of your crew. There are two more people on the second floor, not including the agent. He smirks. Oh, how he enjoys culling a delicate herd.

He reflects on his past. Earlier in his life, when he was being stalked along the slopes of Romania by van Hellsing and his crew, he took an interest in two young women. Lucy Westenra and Mina Harker were the epitome of innocence, both in different ways. The true enjoyment lied in corrupting them, sometimes gradually, as they descended into darkness with their hesitant hands in his. Seras Victoria provided a similar rush of exhilaration, centuries later.

Over time, the amulet is weakening, allowing for him to use more of his powers in the confined space that he has. What kind of sharp adrenaline will rush through his icy veins as he hunts you? What sort of lust will you stir in his chest, a dead garden with thorns sharp enough to puncture, and long branches that impale? Perhaps your story as (f/n) will come to a close when his fangs dip into your neck, syphoning your life for his pleasure, and begin anew as his beautiful, undead wife, destined to serve him for several eternities.

[xreaderwrites]

Grey Areas

Summary: Cheating Death is so much harder when she claws her way out of the dirt.

Tags: scheming, complex feelings, pining, Teen is Billy Maximoff, to be continued

Words: 1k+ | AO3

A/N: a story is a-brewing but the story must marinate…gestate even

A hand bursts from the ground and you shove Billy between yourself and Agatha. He doesn’t protest, his eyes stuck  on the woman clawing her way out of the dirt as he yells about reanimation.

It’s worse. Instead of the spell going horribly wrong it’s gone horribly right, with the best Green Witch they could have possibly gotten. Death herself.

You swallow harshly and pull Teen back with you (and he is Teen now. No other name shall be uttered with Death so close). He’s in such a grey area that both sides can be made. He was never technically alive, not in the way the people Death take are, so him coming back doesn’t break any rules and yet it is his soul that is here on this plane, something she very much deals with. 

Both sides can be made but you are much weaker than she is. You won’t stand a chance.

Agatha screaming and clawing for Death sends your stomach plummeting. It’s good that they won’t be teaming up against you together, your chances of success in that situation are so infinitesimally small, but now you’re fighting on three fronts.

This isn’t the first time you’ve regretted Teen finding your work but this is the first time you’ve hated yourself for it. To have him die so young during his second chance of life…Wanda will never forgive you. In this life or the next.

Agatha storms off and it isn’t long before Rio skips after her.

Teen calling your name makes you realise how harshly you’re clinging to him.

“Are you okay?” he asks worriedly.

Your gaze stays firmly locked on the two witches ahead. Rio sends you a knowing smile mid-twirl. 

It makes you sick. Instead of bringing Wanda back, you’ll be protecting the boy she lost her mind trying to save.

“I’m fine,” you give his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and, ignoring the looks the other three are giving you, you follow Rio up the Witches Road.

Jen and Alice start up behind you and what would’ve been a fun conversation about liking scary women is made easy to ignore with Teen beside you.

“Do you know her?” he asks cautiously. 

He knows how touchy you can be with your past. You have to push the guilt away to concentrate on the question. You’ve to be so careful with everything you say for so long one would think it would be easier by now.

“I know of her, yes,” you allow. “She’s extremely powerful. A good catch for the Road.”

“But?” Teen pushes.

“But…” how to put it, “Her connections to others can be weak, or at least slow to build. Not a quality you want when facing the trials.” Your eyes slide to Agatha, “But that isn’t exactly a new danger. We couldn’t trust Sharon to get us out of a bind, either.”

A frown creases Teen’s face.

“But she was so nice.”

You cast him a long look. Does he really not know she wasn’t a witch? It’s so hard to tell.

“She was incredibly weak, power-wise, and her knowledge was extremely limited. We couldn’t trust her to help us because she wouldn’t have been able to. It’s nothing against her.”

This seems to ease him as his body relaxes and his usual smile begins to poke through, dampened by seeing death so closely. 

It’s your turn to frown. You wish you had known him before the sigil. Then you’d be able to know how much of his naivety is real. He’s a sixteen year old witch and he broke his mother’s curse. That isn’t a small thing. He shouldn’t be this powerful and yet have so little knowledge of what the world is capable of.

You don’t even know what he’s looking for at the end of the Road.

Your frown deepens as you watch Rio shadow Agatha.

It’s no use telling Teen to keep his distance. He’s been glued to Agatha’s side and Rio seems intent on subtly doing the same. Not to mention being on the Road means distance from one another is deadly. This whole situation is frustrating to say the least. But what were you really expecting when traversing the Witches Road?

He gives you a look and you manage to nod your head without rolling your eyes. He scampers ahead to Agatha’s side.

Rio was a few step behind her but she allows a gap to grow as Teen passes her.

You sigh to yourself and catch up to Rio. Matching her pace, you allow the distance between you and Teen to grow before speaking. 

“Interested in a trade?” you ask her. 

Her sharp grin has the hair on your arms rising.

“Do you have anything interesting?”

No, that’s why you’re on the road. It’s too late to offer a life for a life and Wanda would never forgive you if you went to the lengths needed to bring her back whole. Lengths that have only ever been rumoured.

You ask the question anyway to get to the one you want to ask most.

“My life?”

“You know the rules.”

“Yes, but if something much more…powerful than myself attempted to bring her back, would you stop it?”

Her calculating gaze is more terrifying than her crazy grin.

“The Road gives you what you’re missing,” is her only response.

It’s not the straight answer you were hoping for but it’s also not a yes. Which means your plan isn’t completely fucked. 

“While I have you here,” you say before she flutters off back into Agatha’s orbit, “I would like to make it very clear that any delusions I had of revenge or…roadblocks regarding Agatha have been thoroughly discarded with your arrival.”

Rio flashes a smile that is pure threat. 

“Smart girl.”

It’s easy to ignore the effect she has on you when are currently so aware that the threat extends to Wanda too.

You also want to tell Death about Wanda not being a threat to Agatha but you can’t. It may be true now, but who knows what will happen to Teen between now and when you see her? Your best will mean nothing to the Road. Your life probably will too.

[pascaloverx]

DEVIL (+18)

Summary: You are a demonic creature, capable of doing whatever you please, whenever you wish. Your goal on Earth is to terrorize as many souls as possible. Until, in a small community, you find the perfect victim for your mischievous games: Father Charlie Mayhew.

Author's Note: Honestly, I’m not sure if this story will have more than one chapter, but it will contain adult content and inappropriate language. Violence may also appear. Frankly, I just needed to write something about this character portrayed by Nicholas Alexander Chavez. The character and others, apart from Y/N, are not my creation. They belong to the Grotesquerie (2024) universe created by Ryan Murphy. To anyone reading this story, I hope you enjoy it.

ONE THREE

TWO

The man knelt before you, pleading for more time. He tried to bargain, claiming he was on the verge of creating a scheme that would corrupt countless souls for you.

"My dear, don’t waste your breath. Our pact was sealed long ago; I used you for the purposes I desired, and now Satan wants your soul. It’s quite simple—it won’t even hurt. It was pleasurable while it lasted, wasn’t it? I gave you every sinful delight imaginable. Now, it’s time to pay the price," you murmur as you crouch down to speak face to face. The man, now sobbing, desperate to avoid death, shakily points a gun at you. His hand trembles as he aims it at your face, and you can’t help but find it almost endearing that he’s so determined to live.

"It wasn’t going to hurt. I wasn’t planning to harm you—I was going to leave that to the demon in charge of your soul down in Hell. But you’ve just lost that privilege," you say, your voice calm as the man frantically throws objects at you, screaming for help. And then you touch him and immediately he catches fire. The flames cover his entire body, as he agonizes and screams in pain, almost roaring for help. When you get bored of seeing a man like that, you touch him again; and it's as if he had never been burned.

"What have you done to me, you demon?" he yells, charging at you like a raging bull, which only makes you laugh.

"I gave you a little preview of your future, darling. Now, brace yourself for your next adventure." You mockingly reply, and before he can reach you, you make him vanish, sending him to his rightful place. Being a demon certainly has its ups and downs, but truthfully, you're growing weary of it all.

Perhaps it’s a good time to visit your favorite priest for confession. It's been a week since you last made contact. You slip into a red lace lingerie set and throw a black coat over it. Naturally, you can’t forget your rosary—it’s essential for keeping appearances. With a final touch, you teleport to Father Charlie Mayhew’s location.

You appear in his room, where he’s half-naked, engaging in self-flagellation while reciting scripture. "Ephesians 6:11: 'Put on the full armor of God, so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes,'” he says, inflicting pain upon himself, still unaware of your presence. His back was covered in cut marks, bleeding everywhere, his eyes closed as he felt the pain rack his flesh.

“Father Mayhew, need some help? There are parts of your back that remain untouched,” you say, catching him off guard. Leaning casually against a piece of furniture near a crucifix on the wall, you smile wickedly as he jumps in shock. The towel wrapped around him nearly slips, the only thing keeping him covered. Your eyes glint with amusement, knowing you’ve disrupted his supposed sanctity once again.

"Are you really here?" Father Mayhew asks, standing up, now nearly face to face with you. His gaze is intense, as though he had been thinking about you long before you appeared in his room. You move around the room slowly, admiring the details, your movements deliberate as you subtly encircle him, using your body language to create a sense of dominance. His eyes follow your every step, conflicted between fear and desire.

"How could I not be here, my dear Father, when you bring me such satisfaction?" you say, your voice laced with dark amusement. "I’ve heard you’ve kept your sinful habits, wishing only for my return. I believe you’ve earned a reward." Your fingers lightly trace over the fresh wounds on his back, sending shivers through him, eliciting a soft groan from his lips. His eyes stay locked on yours as you slowly remove your coat, revealing the red lace lingerie beneath, a sinful gift crafted solely for his eyes. His breath hitches as he takes in the sight, the temptation too powerful to resist, his internal conflict laid bare in the silence between you.

"Galatians 5:16: 'So I say, walk by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the flesh,'” Father Mayhew murmurs, moving closer to you, his eyes fixed on your chest, tracing every curve and detail of your body. If you weren’t a demon, his gaze might have made you feel shy.

“I’m usually the one who hears confessions, but I must confess to you... I longed to see you again, with a fervor far beyond what is permitted,” he whispers, his voice barely audible as he stands mere inches from your face, as if yearning for a kiss, the tension between you palpable. You regard him with playful amusement, as if he were your favorite source of entertainment.

"Confess to me, Father. Show me what you desire, and prove what you're capable of," you say, your voice laced with a subtle challenge as your fingers brush against his chest. He inhales sharply at your touch, his eyes reflecting the battle between restraint and temptation. The air between you is thick with tension, and despite his struggle, you sense the pull of his desires growing stronger.

The priest kneels before you, gazing up as though seeking your blessing for survival. "Forgive me, in all Your glory, Lord. For I am devoted to You and should turn away from sinful desires, striving to be a good man," he says, yet his eyes remain fixed on you, laden with a sinful intensity. It’s as though his words are meant for God, but his confession is entirely yours. The feeling of power surges through you. Your hands glide over his face, which now seems to exude a wickedly sinful allure. Your fingers lightly trace his full lips, the touch both tender and commanding.

"You must be devoted to me as well. Embrace your darker side, Father. Do not hide it behind your robes. Accept who you truly are," you whisper, your hand gliding along his neck as his head tilts back, eyes wide and fixed on you.

"And who am I, demon?" Father Mayhew asks, his voice trembling slightly, as if he genuinely seeks the answer. His gaze is locked on you, watching intently as you kneel before him, the tension between his devotion and his desire thick in the air.

"You are mine. You belong to me—not only your body, but your soul as well. Punish yourself as much as you wish, but never forget, it is I whom you must worship and fear," you whisper softly, standing before him, your presence enveloping him. The weight of your words lingers in the air, both a command and a promise, as his gaze remains locked on yours, torn between submission and resistance.

"For the love of God, you are the most tempting creature I have ever encountered. How am I to remain pure in your presence?" Father Mayhew exclaims, his voice filled with helplessness as he gazes at you, nearly unraveling before you.

"Father, you're taking the Lord's name in vain... what a naughty boy," you respond with a playful laugh, lowering yourself slightly to kiss his neck. His body shudders under your touch, a wave of tension and desire sweeping through him as your lips brush his skin. Then his fingers trail down to the underside of your lingerie. You lift yourself up a little to help him touch your pussy over your lingerie, biting your lip when you feel his cold fingers touch there. It doesn't take long for him to tear the fabric and finally massage your wet pussy, making you moan softly. His fingers touching you, gently massaging your clit as you touch his strong arms, encouraging him to continue fingering you.

"Say that you are mine as well, demon. Tell me that you are under the spell of what I do to you. Beg me for forgiveness," Father Mayhew demands, his voice taking on a more assertive tone, as if he wishes for you to confess your own sinful desire.

You move toward him, pulling him close, and without hesitation, your lips meet his in a heated kiss. It’s a battle of passion, a wordless exchange of defiance and submission. Neither of you yields, tongues entwining in a struggle for dominance, each unwilling to surrender to the other.

"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," you moan against his lips, the words flowing like a dark and twisted prayer, as if reciting a beautiful, forbidden verse.

"I forgive you..." he murmurs, his voice thick with desire as his lips crash against yours in a heated, desperate kiss. It's as if he needs the taste of you more than he needs to breathe, each movement of his mouth against yours betraying the battle within him, torn between what he knows is wrong and the temptation he can no longer resist. His hands caress your body, stopping at your thighs, and as he grabs them, you open your legs so he can penetrate you.

"Father Mayhew, are you there?" A woman's voice calls from outside, her knock firm against the door. You and Father Mayhew lock eyes, both silently exchanging glances that hold the weight of unspoken words. He knows your nature, the dangerous allure you carry, and in this moment, he acts on instinct. As he tries to compose himself, he quickly places his hand over your mouth, silencing any response that might expose you both. His expression is tense, a silent plea for discretion, as the tension in the room grows thick.

"Yes, Sister Megan. Do you need something? I'm just finishing getting ready," Father Mayhew calls out, his voice steady despite the situation. He glances at you, a flicker of anticipation in his eyes. It’s clear that, though he might never openly admit it, he's waiting for whatever mischief you might stir. He craves it—your demonic influence, your unpredictable nature—and the subtle tension in the air reveals that he is far more enticed by the chaos you bring than he dares to acknowledge. You then use one hand to masturbate Father Mayhew, who moans in response to the sensation of your hand touching his cock, which is already covered in pre-cum. Your fingers running the length of Father Mayhew's cock as he closes his eyes feeling you touch him.

"I would love your opinion on an article I'm considering publishing. It's quite intriguing, I must admit. It discusses some recent murders that are likely related to the church. I thought we could discuss it over a meal," Sister Megan says, her enthusiasm palpable. Father Mayhew shuts his eyes tightly, his hand still covering your mouth as he stifles a few muffled groans. The tension in the room is thick, a stark contrast to Sister Megan’s casual demeanor, as he struggles to regain his composure, caught between his duty and the forbidden thrill of your presence.

"Wait for me at the church entrance... I will, I will be there in a few minu...tes, now please allow me to dress in silence," he stammers, urgency lacing his voice as he attempts to gather himself. His eyes flicker to yours, a mix of desire and desperation evident as he fights to maintain his composure while you continue to captivate him. Your hand closed around the contour of his cock, moving back and forth, sometimes touching the head of his cock. He is on the verge of cumming, one hand under your mouth, the other under your breast, squeezing your breast, causing you a pleasurable sensation.

"I'll be waiting for you, Father," Sister Megan says before leaving, her footsteps echoing in the silence. You couldn’t care less about her departure. The tension in the room escalates as you release your grip on him, locking eyes with the Padre. He removes his hand from your lips, frustration etched across his features.

"Why did you stop?" Father Mayhew asks, a sultry grunt escaping his lips, revealing his longing for your sweet touch. His gaze searches for you, desperate and yearning, as he grapples with the overwhelming desire you stir within him. The air crackles with unspoken words, the thrill of the forbidden intensifying the moment.

"Next time, give me more importance. Your attention must be entirely mine, just like your devotion, but right now, neither belongs to me. I'm sure you can call Sister Megan in here to assist you if you wish. Until our next encounter," you say, your tone tinged with irritation as you reprimand him with a piercing gaze.

As he reaches out to touch your face, murmuring a soft, "I'm sorry," it’s too late. You vanish into thin air once again, leaving him frustrated and uncertain, haunted by the question of whether you will truly return. The echo of your presence lingers in the room, a reminder of the intoxicating temptation he now craves.

[grandline-fics]

Hi! Liquid Courage introduced me to your work and I love the way you write so I thought I should trust you with a request of mine:)

Law x reader; in one point in time one of them subtly confessed but the feeling seemed to be unrequited They both are pining for each other, both have a sweet spot for each other and a connection beyond friendship but both just turn a blind eye to it/not think too much about it. One night after drinking a bit much Law(or reader) starts getting a little touchy but not in a sexual way. (ex. they are sitting next to each other and he slowly hooks his pinky with hers) The touches convey untold truths that are still felt the next morning. After that the touches and the longing stares continue until one of them breakes by the intensity of the moment and decide to confront the other.

I will leave the fate (and the nature) of said moment up to you. Thank you in advance for considering it! Cant wait to read more of your work<3

ps if it helps you in any way in my mind this is kinda angsty. I love angst+possessiveness but I don’t mind how it will come out for you! Really I don’t t mind if you switch up the whole scenario… whatever works for you

If you’re inspired by music, these two play in my mind: All i need- Radiohead + Just pretend- Bad Omens

DESCRIPTION: You’re both silently in love and finally decide to confront your feelings

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol consumption, brief angst at fear of unrequited feelings, mostly fluff

CHARACTERS: Law

WORDS: 1,591

A/N: Thank you so much for this request. I hope I was able to create something that matched what you were looking for and that it's to your liking.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST | PROMPT LIST

———————

From the day you joined the crew Law knew you were someone different. You had a presence he relaxed around a lot faster than others he’d encountered in his travels. You managed to gain his trust and proved yourself a capable and crucial member of the team and situated into the crew to the point no one could really remember a time before you. It felt effortless to be around you and Law counted you amongst one of his most trusted and closest friends. And for the longest time friends was all he considered you to be. Whether through a mix of sheer obliviousness and professional refusal to indulge his feelings any further than that. The line was clearly established that you two were just friends. 

However the heart wants what it wants and emotion is very separate to logic. Despite you both maintaining a friendship as deep as they came, your bodies still sought each other out. When it came to chores you were always close by. If not side by side you where always in the same room. When he was working on medical tasks you were his second, working in silent tandem with your own set rhythm that no others could match if they tried. While it annoyed the crew to no end why nothing deeper ever happened between you both, they decided to say nothing out of fear that if they did point out the obvious connection then that flow and peace between you both would shatter and be destroyed. 

One evening the entire crew were in the communal area celebrating Bepo’s birthday with a lot of drink and laughter. You called it quits after a round of a drinking game was finished and moved cautiously to the closest sofa for safety, knowing that you were less than graceful when you’d been drinking and the last thing you wanted was to injure yourself and disrupt the festivities. Law smiled down at you as you slumped into the space beside him, resting your head lazily on his shoulder. While he hadn’t been actively playing with the game he had been steadily drinking and was at the same level you were. “Sure you didn’t want to play to the end?” He asked curiously.

“Nah, another round and I’d have been passed out.” You mumbled, shifting slightly to get more comfortable. A slow content smile spreading across your lips when Law also moved to accommodate you, his hand curving around your waist so you slotted better against him. Neither of you paying much mind to the position from both the alcohol in your systems and the natural feeling that overcame you both to be seated like this. As you both continued to watch and laugh at the antics of the crew who were still conscious and playing their game, your hand rested over his, your fingers absently looping around his. 

Occasionally through the remainder of the night Law would subconsciously play with your fingers that were looped through his, he only became aware that he was doing it when it was finally time to go to bed. When your hands parted and you reluctantly shifted your weight off of him to stand you both became acutely aware of the lingering sensation of each other’s warmth and touch still clinging to your skin. The walk to your own room was a hazy blink but as you settled into your bed, you couldn’t help but touch your hand, doing all you could to memorise the feeling of his touch as you fell asleep. 

The next morning you woke feeling a strange kind of weight on your shoulders and mind that had nothing to do with all that you’d drank the previous night. It was a good thing you knew your limits with alcohol so you could wake relatively hangover free, still a little stiff and dehydrated but nothing that would leave you bedridden all day. No this feeling was the awareness of how you felt with Law and being in his presence brought you. The more you thought about it the more you saw that you’d felt this way for the longest time, you just hadn’t truly brought it to the forefront of your attention before. 

You got out of bed and readied yourself for a new day, grateful that it would be a day of minimal tasks and filled with a lot of free time given how heavily the crew had been drinking for Bepo’s

birthday which meant you had the time to organise your feelings and adequately deal with things between you and your Captain. You were also grateful that the abundance of hungover crew meant you would have extra privacy in case things weren’t resolved amicably. You walked down the corridor and stopped outside of Law’s office. Regardless of the previous night’s party he was always here first thing in the morning without fail. As always you knocked once out of courtesy and entered, closing the door firmly behind you. When you met his gaze you felt yourself freeze. You could see the realisation and hesitation you were feeling mirrored in his eyes. As comforting as that should have been you still couldn’t bring yourself to move closer or speak. 

“About last night.” “We should talk.” You both spoke in unison, a hurried mess coming from both of your mouths as opposed to your usual calm and relaxed way of speaking around the other. You fidgeted where you stood and gestured for him to speak first while clearing your throat. Law watched you carefully and let out a long sigh, noting how tense you stood and how you kept looking into his eyes and dropping your gaze again only to repeat the action less than a second later. Were you only trying to maintain eye-contact with him out of respect but failed to do so because of shame? Was it regret? He knew how he felt but the last thing he wanted was to force something on you. “Last night I overstepped the mark. Yes we’d been drinking but that’s no excuse. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

“Oh…” You were taken by surprise by his somewhat stilted declaration. Had you misread things? You hadn’t thought so. Now you were even more confused and found disappointment spinning in your stomach, the feeling only furthering your awareness that you had genuine feelings for Law. You weren’t known to be insubordinate but today you felt like pushing things because his statement truly didn’t seem like the man you thought you knew. “Captain, you held my hand and I returned the gesture. That’s not overstepping the mark. That’s barely walking in the mark’s direction… Do you regret doing it?” As you spoke you couldn’t help but run your thumb over your fingers that had been in his hold mere hours ago. “Because I don’t.”

“Regardless…It’s unwise to further this topic.” Law tried to sound firm but he was honestly thrown, he hadn’t been expecting you to feel the same as he did but he’d spent all last night and this morning trying to convince himself his feelings were one-sided and that it was fine that way because he shouldn’t pursue a relationship with a member of his crew. He wasn’t one to get his hopes up and at the same time he was also one to deny himself of something that made him happy to prevent the pain of losing it in the future. “We would be better to leave things as they are before they escalate.”

“Does that mean you want things to escalate?” You asked coyly finally taking a step towards the desk he sat at. 

“It wouldn’t be right for me to start something with my subordinate.” Law offered the argument, not able to give much weight to his words as he openly watched you approach, giving no inclination for you to stop or to leave. You both knew that had he wanted you out of his presence he would have either ordered you away or used his Devil Fruit to accomplish the task himself. 

“Captain, we’re pirates. What’s right and wrong and rules don’t exactly apply to us. Do they?” You asked simply, keeping the desk separating you both to allow him his personal space as you smiled at him. “All that matters is what we want. I’ve been honest, will you be honest with me, Captain?”  

Law stood and braced his hands on the desk, beginning to close the distance between you both. You’d made convincing points and deep down he hadn’t wanted to find a way to argue against them, not when it came to you and the feelings he’d finally accepted to himself that had been there for a very long time. “Are you sure about this?” He asked, offering you one final chance to take it back because he knew once this started he wasn’t going to let you go. Your answer was a simple one, you leant in with a smile and curled your fingers around his that were braced against the surface of the desk. The wordless but deep connection you had with each other was reestablished and cemented even further as you leant in, able to share a soft and tender kiss with your Captain. However the moment couldn’t be savoured for long because within seconds the chorus of calls echoed through the Polar Tang as the rest of the crew had awoken and were suffering their hangovers and calling for their Captain to help them cure it.

[pholla-jm]

Brawn

IMAGINE: BRAWN~ ZORO X READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: non-established relationship. slight cussing. not proof read. a/n: when I found out that zoro's chest size is 110 cm. i was baffled... and i honestly wish i can just lay my head on his chest. to put things in perspective, 110 cm is about a 38DD. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was no secret that Zoro was a big man. Standing at 181 cm and weighing around 90 kg. Most of it being pure muscle. 

It doesn’t help that he would sometimes walk around shirtless, and there was something that kept grabbing your attention… his chest. 

You often wondered how big his chest was. So you kept looking at his chest because they looked so squishable and you really just wanted to lay your head on his chest. You bet that they would be a great pillow. 

However, your staring was as discreet as you thought it was. He had caught you staring and he was a bit confused. With a bit of thinking, he figured out that you were staring at his chest. Which definitely boosted his ego. So whenever he caught you staring he would subtly flex them. He even started walking around shirtless more often. 

About a week of this went by until he finally confronted you about it. 

“Hey, why do you keep staring at me?” He suddenly asks when you’re alone. Your eyes widen at the sudden question. It was unprompted which threw you off guard.

Your face turns into a pinkish color while you try to avoid eye contact with him. If he knew that you were staring at his muscles, you knew you would never hear the end of it. 

After a minute of silence Zoro speaks up again, “see something that you like?” 

You look at him in disbelief, “when did you become so bold?” Zoro opens his mouth but you wave him off, “you know what. Don’t answer that.” 

Zoro just smirks, resting his chin on the palm of his hand, “well?” 

You pout a little, “I rather not say.” “I’ll keep bothering you until you tell me.” 

You look at him, seeing that he is being completely serious. “Ugh, fine. I’ve been staring at-” You motion at his chest, “they just look so… so comfortable. It’s not fair.” “I know.” 

Your eyes widen, “what? You already knew? About me staring?” He nods his head. “Ugh, why did you even ask me?” “Because I wanted to hear you say it out loud.” 

“You’re an asshole!” 

His smirk turns into a grin, “at least I have a bigger chest than you.” You gasp, “that’s not fair! I’ll let you know that my chest is a normal size for my body.” His eyes flicker down for a split second, but you still caught it. “Yeah, right.” 

“Hey!” You shout while pushing his shoulder playfully. 

Zoro just laughs at your reaction, “if you ever want to do more than looking at them, just let me know.” 

Your mouth falls agape as Zoro walks away. You didn’t even know that Zoro was capable of saying something like that. You’re glad he couldn’t see you because your face was now a tomato red.

[pinkgy]

okay, ignore the previous ask, i can't be more blind and stupid (💀).

so, if it isn't a bother, may you write some headcanons about the kings (satan, mammon, beelzebub and leviathan) with a reader who's slightly chubby and dislikes their (reader's) body.

thanks in advance, dear.

–☕ (wishing to end myself after this one.)

Hi ! Thank you so much for your request and congratulations for being the first request that is not about sex lol I needed a break.

Here it is! I loved writing this request and I hope you like it ♡

It's a bit OOC in some parts (Leviathan), but in my defense, it's not easy to write fluff about them.

Also, I'm sorry if I didn't focus much on the body type part, I'm not a great fan of specifying the reader's body type, race, and sometimes even height, but it's okay! I tried my best.

Also, this is my contribution to the soft and sweet Mammon HC.

𝗪𝗛𝗕

𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦

"𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨𝗦𝗘𝗟𝗙 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗜 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘 𝗬𝗢𝗨"

♡

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗡

✮ He’s in denial, Satan has you on a pedestal and he genuinely cannot believe that you think this way about yourself, simply because it’s a completely different opinion than the one he has of you.

✮ If you dare to mention any discomfort with your appearance in front of him, he will laugh in your face telling you to stop joking about such things, and when you look at him completely serious he might realize that he was wrong.

✮ Satan genuinely doesn't have any specific body preference, in his eyes you’re perfect, all he cares about is that you’re healthy both physically and mentally. 

✮ Once he fully realizes, you won't EVER hear him joking about it, and if someone else dared to they’re dead within seconds. The same goes for you "jokingly" mistreating yourself, that's the biggest offense for him and the lecture your life awaits you.

✮ This situation would become a priority for satan, he's capable of leaving aside all his work just to do the impossible to make you feel better about yourself. 

✮ He gets very frustrated every time you talk negatively about yourself, and he feels sad every time he notices that you feel insecure about your body, Satan somehow puts himself in your shoes, and that makes him take everything too seriously.

“Stop looking at yourself like that, I know what you're thinking and I don't like it” He hugs you from behind "Let's talk, you're too pretty to be thinking those things"

𝗕𝗘𝗘𝗟𝗭𝗘𝗕𝗨𝗕

✮ He might believe that you’re joking if you tell him, and he also might jokingly tell you something like “Yeah, I don’t like your body either” Clearly no offense intended, he would genuinely think that you’re not being serious.

✮ Beelzebub won’t realize that his “Harmless comment” made you feel bad unless someone else tells him that he screwed up, probably many days later he will approach you and actually apologize.

✮ Don’t expect any elaborate apologies from him, he will tell you what is necessary. But after he has taken a long time trying to remember everything you said to him that day, he will subtly start looking for ways to make you feel better about yourself. 

✮ Believe me, Beelzebub is going to make sure you hear every chance he gets about how perfect you are, and in case he forgets to tell you, Bael is under strict orders to remind him. 

✮ He’s really supportive but he sucks at showing it, his main goal is to distract you from your insecurity by at the same time trying to not distract himself, and somehow, it works.

"And who said that being yourself is not okay? As long as that beautiful body of yours is well-fed and healthy, you are the hottest person out there"

𝗠𝗔𝗠𝗠𝗢𝗡

✮ He would get offended, but like, really offended, the moment he notices or when you tell him about it he acts like those Latina grandmas when their grandchild tells them they're gay,

literally him.

✮ He's never seen anyone more ethereal than you, how do you even dare to dislike yourself?

✮ He genuinely doesn’t care about your body type, your weight, etc, as long as you’re healthy he’s going to love every part of you.

✮ He’s an amazing listener, Mammon will encourage you to vent to him while he slowly caresses your hair, and every time you say something he’s not okay with, he kisses your forehead.

✮ He wouldn't think you're joking, the opposite, Mammon would take this really seriously, but like, too seriously, to the point where you’re not getting out of Tartaros without loving your body as much as he loves it, and believe me, that’s a lot. 

“How can you hate such a beautiful body like yours? Every inch of you is perfect and just looking at you feels like a privilege, so don't overthink too much please”

𝗟𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗡

✮ Leviathan will genuinely get mad at you, if he finds out, he will ignore you, and if you tell him, he will leave and ignore you too, but it’s temporary, he will get over it in a few days. 

✮ He kind of sucks at comforting people, but he can and will try his best with you, just don’t expect much from him, and know that he’s genuine about it.

✮ He will make an annoyed face every time you comment something negative about yourself, and trust me, you will notice.

✮ Leviathan has a very good memory, and he’ll make a mental note of every part of your body that you mention that you don’t like, and every chance he gets he will make sure to kiss or caress that part. He won’t be very obvious, but somehow, he will find a way to discreetly improve your opinion of yourself.

✮ He would hang anyone who dared to make jokes about your body, and would also hang anyone who complimented you, only he has the right to do that.

✮ And on those days when you feel particularly bad about your body, Leviathan will be sure to find a way to distract you with something else, he’s very observant so he wouldn’t need to listen to you to know how you feel, he’ll just suddenly leave his work for a few hours and take you to one of your favorite places, even if he hates the place, he hates more that you have a bad opinion of yourself.

“Get those thoughts out of your head, people should be jealous of how you look, okay? Don't be ridiculous”

[skybluewritings]

Last Summer Part 2, Felix Catton x Fem!reader

word count: 2K

Masterlist

She would be staying with the Cattons for a month then return home a couple days before her flight to finish packing and give her tearful goodbyes. She paused the track on her iPod when she saw him pulling up to the station. Felix had insisted on coming himself to collect her despite her insistence that she was happy order a taxi.

The car came to a stop, she picked up the handle of her suitcase and walk down the steps of the station. Felix got out of his car, despite having seen each other only a week ago she couldn’t contain the rush of joy that seeing him brought. Her suitcase was momentarily discarded, she squealed as she flung her arms around his neck. His arms wound around her waist, he laughed as he lifted her a little. The wood and spice smell of his aftershave was intoxicating.

Once he had set her down she unwrapped her arms from his neck, grinning up at him. She glanced down noticing his arms were still around her waist, his palms resting on the small of her back. He also noticed this and immediately pulled away from her.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry about that.”

Heat spread through her stomach. “No it’s uh quite alright.”

Neither spoke for a moment, Felix clapped his hands together. “Right, shall we?”

“Yes, yeah, let’s go!”

She went to pick up her suitcase but he had beat her to it.

“I’ll be taking that.” He told her.

She scoffed. “I think I’m more than capable of carrying a suitcase.”

He shrugged. “Nope don’t care."

“You vex me.” She sighed, opening the car door and dropping into the seat.

“You love me really!” He sang, taking the suitcase and opening the car boot.

He was closer to the truth than he would ever know.

*

The car sped through the countryside, it was a bright and blazing day. The roof the convertible was down, the wind making her hair dance all around her. The upbeat tempo of music vibrated through the vehicle. She rested her arm against the window ledge, choosing to subtly gaze at Felix through her cat eye sunglasses. It was unfair how good he looked in his ray-ban sunglasses, her eyes traced the sharp curve of his jawline.

“I can feel you staring.” He said.

“I was very much not!” She replied defensively, looking away from and at the rode ahead.

“I’m not blind.” She couldn’t see him but she knew he was smirking.

“You flatter yourself too much.” She teased.

“I don’t think I flatter myself enough.” He replied, she playfully smacked his arm knowing he was joking. It may have seemed like a narcissistic thing to say but when it came down to it there wasn’t much about Felix that was self obsessed. He was not unaware of his own attractiveness but he didn’t carry himself in the way most vain men would.

“So how much further?” She asked.

“Another couple minutes I reckon.”

“Is there anything you haven’t told me that I should know? Like that your family is actually a coven of aristocratic vampires.”

“Just my mum!” He told her, before shaking his head. “No, there isn’t much that you don’t know already. My family can be somewhat traditional but pretty welcoming overall.”

“Will I be presented to your mum in the fashion of a debutante at court?”

He laughed. “Yes then you’ll be forced to dance a waltz with my dad.”

This made her laugh. “Sounds sexy.”

“Thank you for agreeing to come I really do appreciate it.” He told her taking her hand and giving it a warm squeeze.

She squeezed it back. “You’re welcome, I’m always here for you.”

“You too.” He said finally letting go of her hand.

Her pulse was far too fast and so was her spiralling mind. How was she going to manage a month with him?

*

They finally drove through the gates of Saltburn, as cliche as it sounded her mouth nearly fell open in sheer shock. It was the most elegant home she had ever seen. She knew he came from a lot of money but was still taken aback by the extravagance of it all. The car drive came to a stop inside a large garage full of a variety of old expensive cars.

 

Felix came round to her side opening the car door for her, in a gesture she thought only happened in old films.

 

“Thank you.” She told him with a smile.

 

He smiled back. “My mum would never forgive me if I didn’t.”

 

“I would have thought someone else parked your car for you?” She pointed out.

 

“Sometimes I like to do things for myself.” He explained matter of fact.

 

She supposed that was a fair answer, truthfully, she had no clue how the rules of anything of this worked. This was an extreme version wealth which she had never encountered before.

 

He opened the boot of the car, and she took out her suitcase pulling it behind her as they left the garage.

 

They reached the main foyer of the house, it had wide cavernous ceilings with various patterns carved into it. An older man in a suit dipped his head at them politely.

 

“(Name) this is Duncan the head Butler.”

 

Head Butler?! She thought. Was she in Pride and Prejudice?

 

Duncan gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Pleasure to meet you.”

 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you as well.” She replied trying to mimic his formal tone.

 

“I will have your luggage taken to your room.” Duncan told her.

 

(Name) waved her hands. “Oh no really it’s okay I can take it.”

 

Duncan’s face became more pinched. “No please I insist.”

Yeah she was not going to try argue with him.

 

“Well thank you then.” She said awkwardly.

 

She looked on helplessly as Duncan commanded another butler to take the suitcase.

 

Felix clearly sensing her discomfort pat her on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s go to the conservatory my mum will be dying to meet you.”

 *

 

There were three women in the conservatory, they were all sat on ornate chairs that faced opened glass doors. Two of the women were engrossed in a story the blonde woman was telling them. She stopped speaking when she noticed her friends had stopped paying attention to her and to instead the new arrivals. The blonde woman turned to see what they were staring at, her whole face lit up.

 

“My goodness darling you do know how to pick them don't you.” The blonde woman (who she had worked out was his mother) said to Felix.

 

She elegantly stood from her chair and practically sauntered toward them.

 

“This is my mum, Elspeth.” He told her.

 

“Lovely to meet y-“ Her words were cut off when Elspeth grabbed both sides of her face tilting it to one side then the other. (Name) winced at having her face manhandled.

 

“Mum stop that!” Her best friend scolded, gently swatting his Mother’s prying hands away.

 

Elspeth bought her hands to her chest. “I do apologise it’s just that I’m trying to figure out what it is about your beauty that draws my son in. I think it might be your eyes they’re rather lovely.”

 

It was a strange compliment, but still a compliment she supposed. “Oh thank you.” She said with a nervous smile. “However I’m pretty sure my physical appearance doesn’t really play a part in my friendship with Felix!”

 

Elspeth furrowed her brow. “Friendship?” She looked to her son. “Felix I thought she was your girlfriend.”

 

Girlfriend?!

 

He sighed. “Mum, I explicitly told you I had a friend coming to stay.”

 

“But the way you so lovingly spoke about her-“

 

“Anyway,” Felix said slightly too loud. “I am sure (Name) will want to get settled into her bedroom, we’ll see you for dinner.”

 

“But really it is wonderful to have you stay dear.” Elspeth told her kindly.

 

She found herself smiling genuinely. “Thank you.”

 

Felix led her out the conservatory with the same speed she led him out of the party.

*

Felix fell back onto the bed in the guest bedroom. He covered his face with both hands groaning into them. “Oh god I’m sorry, that was so embarrassing.”

 

She perched on the bed next to him. “I-I mean it wasn’t too bad. Your mum seems to at least like me!”

 

“Yeah I guess.” He removed his hands from his face. “But how could she imply that you and I-as if I am not capable of just having female friends.”

 

“You seemed to be pretty good friends with a lot of the girls at Oxford.” She snickered, pretending it didn’t hurt to know that.

 

He rolled his eyes. “How do you know?”

 

She flopped down next to him and playfully elbowed him. “I mean you weren’t exactly subtle in hiding it everyone kind of knew.”

 

 “Is that really how you see me?”

 

She turned to lie on her side. “No of course not-sorry I was only teasing.”

 

He didn’t look at her, instead picking at the buttons of his shirt. “I don’t like the idea that a bunch of people can just decide something about me, like they know me. I always made it clear I never wanted anything more from the people I was with. I’m not some heartless fuck boy. It makes me feel uncomfortable that some people might have that view of me...”

 

“Well I don’t.” She said softly. “No one’s perfect but you aren’t a bad guy, people know that even if they see your exploits differently to how you did.”

 

He now looked at her. “What do you think of me?”

 

Where should she start? “I think you’re just one of the kindest people I’ve ever met and that well-I can’t believe I’m existing in the same room as you.”

 

Maybe the last part was too much, but she couldn’t help it if she meant it. His lips parted at her words, he seemed at a momentary loss for words as he stared at her stunned. His full lips looked so inviting parted like that, it wouldn’t have taken her much to lean forward and find out. She chose to sit back up this was becoming too dangerous for her.

 

She cleared her throat. “Do with that what you will.”

 

He seemed to snap back to reality gradually sitting up next to her. “I’m sorry it took me a minute, it’s just- no one’s ever really said anything like that to me before.” He swallowed hard.

 

“Maybe it’s time that someone should.” She admitted.

He gave her a grateful smile that made everything inside her melt away. The moment passed when he stood up from the bed and offered out his hand to her which she gladly took as he pulled her to her feet. “Come on I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”

Tag list: @emitaylorsverson

[masuchu]

“𝐈’𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐇𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐃𝐀𝐘” [ZHONGLI]

what happens when you propose the idea of being zhongli’s birthday gift and letting him have you however he likes? ‧₊˚

genre. smut! very dom zhongli, mentions of punishment, kinda bratty reader, birthday sex!!! , mentions of dragon!zhongli, manhandling?, marking, roughness, biting, he cums inside, just pure filth ig, reader is afab and described as a woman !!!!!!!!!

pairing. zhongli x reader

love, masu. ohohoho. how could i not write a little something for my love? on his birthday? teehee, i hope you guys enjoy! lmk if there are any typos UGH

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, my dear. Are you insinuating you wish to celebrate my birthday by engaging in intimacy?”

You sighed at Zhongli’s blunt and perplexed words. Dating a man who had lived through many a millennia absolutely had it perks; it wasn’t everyday you could hear the history of tea distillery and other obscure topics. But in times like these, you really struggled to explain things that were a bit more ‘in this day an age’ to your ancient lover. Especially things regarding sexual matters.

“No, it’s— Because it is your birthday, the idea is that I am your present! That you can enjoy, um, however you like…”

“But you already gave me a present?”

A groan escaped your lips, “I know I did! It’s not literal, more— conceptual? I’m not actually your gift, I’m giving you a chance to let your fantasies run wild, for term of phrase. Do you understand?”

One of his gloved hands traversed up to his lips, and he gave the lower one a gentle tap of consideration. “I think I understand. It is less of a tradition or a custom, but more of a way for you to treat me in a more intimate manner, because it is my birthday. Am I correct?”

A gentle yet flirtatious smile engulfed your face. “You are correct, indeed. Sooo, will you … take me up on my offer?”

Zhongli’s eyes were overcome by an imperceptible change, so subtle and abrupt that no regular person would have noticed it. But you weren’t any regular person, you were his prized lover. The only soul in Teyvat that has ever had such a firm and unshakeable grip on his heart, leaving him with an inconsolable ache in his being whenever he was not with you. You understood him and saw every twitch or flip of his mood, no matter the size. So, that raging fire set you alight in his eyes did not go misunderstood. He wanted you.

“I think I shall take you up on your generous offer. But you may regret allowing me such freedom over your body tonight. It seems you are the only person capable of stripping me of my prided self control.”

You would have swooned over Zhongli’s words if it weren’t for the rasp in which they were spoken, the way his eyes traversed over your now quivering form, and the warning he gave that seemed to have left his lips calmly, yet seductively.

One of his arms suddenly wound around your waist, the other creeping up to take a stiff hold on your jaw; it juxtaposed greatly with the gentle caress of his thumb on your lower lip.

“I want you to go upstairs, undress completely, and wait for me on the bed. I will be up with you shortly. And believe me, I will not be going easy on you tonight. It is my birthday after all, and you are my gift. Do you understand, my dear?”

A humorous gulp resounded throughout the room, you embarrassingly realised that you were the source of the noise.

“Yes, sir.”

The wait felt like an eternity. The soft bed sheets you were perched on prettily were no consolation or comfort to the uncomfortable ache in your core; in fact, they only fuelled on your lewd imaginations of gripping them whilst Zhongli’s cock pounded into you mercilessly.

God, you were an enemy unto yourself. Why were you so hellbent on fuelling your own neediness and loss of coherent thought? Your pussy throbbed with greed and impatience, and without thinking of the consequences, you began to rut subtly and clumsily with into the soft duvet. Unbeknownst to you…

“I am disappointed. Misbehaving on my birthday, my love? I was only gone for a minute or two.”

An awful squeak was plundered from your lips, your cheeks warm and flushed having been caught red handed. You halted your ministrations and began to plead for forgiveness.

“Zhongli, I am so sorry! I didn’t mean to, I swear—“

Your begs were cut off when a forceful hand ran through your hair and tugged your head backwards. Zhongli’s grip was not harsh enough to cause pain in your scalp, but you understood the intention of his action. It was a warning.

“Morax, is what you shall call me tonight. You must show me proper respect on my birthday. And I am willing to ignore your little… mishap, so long as you are on your best behaviour for the remainder of tonight. Isn’t that generous, hm?” His words reverberated and echoed throughout the room, soothing and tender, but filled with undertones and reminders of his power and heavy dislike of disobedience. The underlying threat of punishment almost compelled you to spend tonight pushing his buttons and testing his thin patience, drawing out his harsher hits and crude tongue.

Almost.

“Very generous, Morax. How would like to— how do you want me?” You whimpered, his dominance having an extremely powerful effect on your slowly escaping pride and dignity.

“Ah, offering yourself up so plainly? I am honoured my love. On your back, please. I would like to see the expressions my gift makes when I ravish it tonight.”

Oh Archons. A sudden rush of wetness overwhelmed your aching cunt, jaw falling humiliatingly wide at his lewd speech. You remembered his order when he gave a you a gentle tap and a raised eyebrow, and you scrambled to present yourself on your back, pussy entirely on display to your partner’s hungry eyes. A dreadful moment of incomprehensible staring ensued before Zhongli finally uttered words that left you even more shamelessly horny than you even thought was possible,

“Absolutely exquisite. Hold your legs up for me, my hands are going to be occupied.”

You did exactly as you were told, like an obedient pet. Something aggravatingly inexplicable about Zhongli made you want to heed to his every call, devote your entire life to him, and pleasure him at every waking moment. Of course, that was impossible. You were an independent woman, and in normal circumstances where you were capable of rational thought, you were always firm about working and making a living for yourself— Zhongli always in agreement with this. But in lustful moments like these, when his pretty digits travelled to your slit and traced along it like he was inspecting a gem, when his other palm encompassed your breast and kneaded them softly? You desired nothing but to be a pampered little cum slut for your precious Geo Archon.

On the other hand, Zhongli was in turmoil. His hard on was uncomfortably trapped in the confines of his trousers, and his mind was dazed with possibly draconic, but absolutely primal urges to fuck you into a pitiful mess. His fingers roughly shoved into your hole, and your drawn out moan was nothing but pleasure to his ears.

“Aren’t you so lovely? Always so obedient— well, mostly. So beautiful spread out like this for me. Carry on making that face, and I won’t be able to wait any longer, darling.”

You couldn’t take his incessant rambling any longer. Could he not just ram you into next year already?!

“Then don’t! Please— I’m begging, just fuck me already! You made me wait, won’t you have mercy on me, Morax?”

Your cries were silenced by a soft pair of lips harshly planted onto yours. The Archon’s tongue traversed your mouth and his canines bit into your lower lip. All the while, his fingers were still plunging in and out of your wet pussy, causing horrendously lewd squelching noises to ricochet off of every wall in your extravagant shared bedroom.

Too caught up in pleasure to notice, you realised to late that Zhongli had taken his rock solid cock out of his pants, only registering the act when he roughly slammed it into you.

“Ah! Zhong— Morax, please!” You had no idea what you were begging for. Less? More? Both at the same time? Your brain was clouded with pleasure, nothing but cock and kisses appearing.

“What are you begging for, my love? You can’t possibly by overwhelmed now. I warned you that I was holding nothing back with you today. Were you listening, or is my cock that pleasurable you have gone dumb?”

“Ngh! Shut— ah, up!”

You regretted your words as soon as they left your bitten lips. Zhongli’s hips slammed vigorously into you, his balls slapping against your ass, and he hit the perfect spot— before stopping entirely.

“My apologies, I must’ve misheard you. You couldn’t possibly have told me to ‘shut up’ just now, hm?”

A rough thrust censored any answer you could have possibly given.

“Not when you have been so good? Not when you are spread out so divinely for me? So at my mercy? Enlighten me, my love, would you really like to find yourself tied down for hours, left with nothing but what I have already given you, whilst I resume my work?”

A sharp pinch at your clit told you the question was not rhetorical. “No, Morax! I am so sorry, I wasn’t thinking—“

“No, I didn’t think you were. Are you going to let me enjoy my gift without any further interruptions?”

“Yes— Agh!”

You could not even utter another syllable before your lover was pounding into you once more. With every snap of his hips, a new spot within you was discovered and abused so harshly you could think of nothing but him, him, him.

His still gloved finger perused over your clit, a string of heightened pleasure dangling above you so meanly. Zhongli did not care, his fingers danced along your sensitive area whilst his lips came down to you once more, this time to leave deep, red marks along your neck. At a long, desperate whine, the God chuckled and pressed down skilfully onto your sore bud.

“Zhongli! Oh my— please, please, please, please!”

“Are you going to cum, dearest? You have my permission, you are allowed to— ngh, come whenever you like. Paint my cock with your juices, I need it.”

His words, his thrusts, his lips on your neck, scenting you. It was all so much, too much. A familiar yet arguably foreign feeling bubbled up in your core. A fervid ache began to grow inside you, encouraged by Zhongli’s never ending praise and vulgar words. His resolve was beginning to crumble, too. You could tell vaguely through your state of disrepair and desperation that his moans were becoming louder, his thrusts ever so slightly sloppier. As if you had been transported to another dimension, everything that had built up began to burst.

“Ah, yes! Cum for me, darling. Don’t hold back, give your Archon everything.”

A screen of white filled your vision, unable to think, unable to feel, unable to breathe. You barely noticed Zhongli’s orgasm happening simultaneously, not until a burst of hot, gooey liquid erupted inside you. Everything felt holy, indescribably divine. The same climax Zhongli had effortlessly brought you to innumerable times, it whirled within you and left you completely immobile. A moment passed before Zhongli carefully fell on top of you, moving to avoid suffocating your almost lifeless form.

A moment of heavy breaths and mutual tenderness passed before Zhongli took at glance at your sore body and spoke,

“Ah, are you in any pain, my dear? I do hope I made you feel the amount of pleasure I felt.”

You breathily chuckled, “You did. Archons, you absolutely did.”

Zhongli came closer a smiled against your lips, before saying in a deepened, all too familiar tone,

“Then I do hope you are not too sensitive. I still have much in mind for my… gift. Remember to never underestimate the stamina of an Archon, my dear. Now, on your front.”

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