#This man is too precious to exist who allowed this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shdysders · 3 months ago

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what we were

pairing: tara carpenter & reader

summary: in which you would’ve married tara, if she had stuck around.

word count: 4.9k

author’s note: just bare with me.

You had never planned on getting married.

It wasn't a conscious decision, just something that slowly etched itself into the back of your mind as the years passed.

Growing up, you'd watched your mother pick up the pieces after your father left, her quiet strength masking the pain that you knew lingered beneath the surface.

There was no bitter divorce or fiery arguments to signal his departure—just the gradual fading of a man who was once the center of your world.

One day, he was gone, leaving only the hollow echo of promises that were never meant to be kept.

Your mother never talked much about it, but you could see the toll it took on her.

How she would stare out of the kitchen window a little too long, lost in memories that were best left untouched.

You learned early on that love, in its most idealized form, was fragile—something that could shatter without warning, leaving you to pick up the shards.

So, you built walls, fortified them with indifference, and told yourself that you didn't need anyone to complete you.

Marriage was a fairy tale, one that you had long since stopped believing in.

That was, until you met Tara.

Tara, was everything you never knew you needed; sharp-witted, fiercely independent, with a heart bigger than she'd ever admit.

The first time you met her, you were caught off guard by how effortlessly she seemed to break through the walls you'd spent years constructing.

It wasn't just her smile, though that alone could've disarmed you; it was the way she looked at you, like she saw past the armor you wore and straight into the core of who you were.

You tried to keep your distance at first, reminding yourself that you didn't believe in forever. But Tara wasn't the kind of person you could easily push away.

She had this way of showing up when you least expected it, making you laugh when you wanted to be serious, and staying when you needed someone most—even when you couldn't admit it.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the idea of a life without her became more terrifying than the fear of losing her.

It wasn't that the old wounds from your past magically healed, or that the doubts you harbored suddenly disappeared.

But with Tara, the possibility of something lasting felt less like a fairy tale and more like something real—something you could hold onto, despite the uncertainties that lingered in the corners of your mind.

You found yourself imagining a future, not in the abstract way you used to, where it was always just you—alone and self-reliant—but a future that included her.

The thought scared you, but it also made you feel something you hadn't felt in a long time: hope.

It wasn't long before Tara started talking about you to her friends, and soon after, you found yourself meeting the people who meant the most to her.

A few months into your relationship, Tara built up the courage to allow you to meet Sam.

From everything Tara had told you about her sister, you quickly learned that Sam was hard to please.

She was fiercely protective, always scrutinizing anyone who got close to Tara, and you figured you'd be just another name on her list of disapprovals.

However, that was never the case.

Tara later explained how surprised she was when Sam actually warmed up to you.

She had told you how Sam had admitted that, for the first time, she didn't feel the need to interrogate or push you away.

Sam had seen something in you that made her feel comfortable, something that made her believe you were different from the others who had come before. It was an unspoken approval, one that Tara knew was rare and precious.

The approval was more than just a stamp of acceptance; it was a sign that maybe, just maybe, you were capable of the kind of love you'd always doubted existed—at least for you.

But even then, despite the closeness you and Tara shared, you never thought you'd be the kind of person who'd want to settle down, to make that ultimate commitment.

Marriage was still an abstract concept, one that other people did, but never you.

You had convinced yourself that you didn't need a ring or a ceremony to validate what you and Tara had.

But as the months turned into years, you started to realize that it wasn't about the validation. It was about wanting to build something with her—something lasting and undeniable.

You found yourself imagining a future where Tara was by your side, not just in an abstract sense, but in every way that mattered.

The thought of proposing crept into your mind one day, completely unbidden, and you immediately tried to push it away. You weren't the type to get down on one knee, to promise forever when you knew how easily forever could be taken away.

Yet, the idea persisted, lingering at the edge of your thoughts, especially during the quiet moments when Tara was asleep beside you, her hand resting gently on your chest, as if she was anchoring you to her.

You'd never imagined yourself as the kind of person who would propose to anyone. The very idea felt foreign, as if it belonged to someone else's story. But with Tara, you started to wonder if maybe, just maybe, you'd been wrong all along.

It wasn't that you suddenly believed in marriage as a concept, but rather, you believed in what you had with Tara.

Maybe this was exactly the kind of story you wanted to write—a story where you weren't afraid to say, "I choose you," not just today, but every day for the rest of your life.

Two years into your relationship, you made the decision to propose.

Surprisingly, you had even gotten Sam's permission, something you never thought you'd need but found yourself seeking anyway, wanting her blessing before taking such a significant step.

The idea had been slowly taking shape in your mind, and now it felt like the right time. You wanted it to be perfect, not flashy or over-the-top, but something that felt true to both of you.

One of your usual date nights seemed like the perfect setting—familiar, yet with the potential to become something unforgettable.

You decided to make the night extra special. When you suggested going to a more expensive restaurant than your usual spots, Tara was visibly surprised.

She had raised an eyebrow and teased you about suddenly getting fancy, almost saying no because of the high prices.

But when you offered to cover everything, her smile had softened, and she had agreed.

You knew that Tara wasn't one for grand gestures or extravagant displays, which is why you kept the details simple yet meaningful.

The restaurant was intimate, with dim lighting and a cozy atmosphere, the kind of place where you could easily lose yourselves in conversation.

You had made sure to pick a spot that you knew Tara would love—somewhere that felt like the two of you, but elevated just enough to mark the occasion.

As the evening approached, you could feel the anticipation building, but there was also a sense of calm.

This wasn't about proving anything or trying to impress her; it was about sharing a moment that would forever change the course of your lives together, for the better.

You had planned every detail carefully, but more than anything, you just wanted to tell Tara exactly what you'd been feeling for so long—that you couldn't imagine a future without her, and that you didn't want to.

When the time finally came, you chose to wear the sundress that Tara had once told you she loved on you. It was a soft, flowing dress in a shade of pale blue that always made you feel both comfortable and confident.

You wore your hair half up, half down, just the way Tara liked it, with a few loose strands framing your face. You wanted to look your best, but more importantly, you wanted to look like yourself—the person Tara fell in love with.

Tara arrived in a sleek, black blouse paired with dark jeans, an outfit that was effortlessly chic and perfectly her.

The way she carried herself always took your breath away, and tonight was no different. But as you sat across from each other at the candle-lit table, you noticed that she seemed a bit off.

Tara was looking around nervously, her eyes darting from the menu to the other diners, then back to you, as if she had something else on her mind.

Your own nerves were starting to bubble up, the weight of what you were about to do making your heart race.

You couldn't shake the anxious thoughts running through your head—what if you didn't find the right words, or if the moment didn't go as planned?

But every time Tara's eyes met yours, you found yourself smiling. It was impossible not to. Even with the nerves, even with the uncertainty of how she might react, you knew that this was the right decision.

As you both settled into the evening, your food arrived, and you began eating, trying to keep the conversation flowing naturally despite the butterflies in your stomach.

You had it all planned out. The proposal was going to happen after you both had finished your meal.

You knew Tara's appreciation for surprises and had arranged something special with the restaurant staff. When the time came, a waitress would bring out a beautifully wrapped box, something you had requested to make the moment even more memorable.

It was a small gesture, but one that you knew Tara would appreciate—a carefully wrapped box with a heartfelt message inside that symbolized the depth of your feelings.

The idea was for Tara to open the box and discover a note or memento that would lead into the proposal.

The plan was for Tara to see the message first, giving you just enough time to reach for the ring and get down on one knee before she fully realized what was happening.

You imagined the look of surprise and joy on her face as she opened the box, unaware that this was just the beginning of the moment you had carefully orchestrated.

You kept up the conversation, trying to keep things light and natural despite the nervous energy building inside you.

Tara seemed a little distracted, still glancing around the room every now and then, but you didn't press her on it. You wanted everything to feel as normal as possible until the big reveal.

Every bite was a mix of anticipation and excitement, your heart pounding as you mentally rehearsed what you were going to say.

Tara, on the other hand, seemed to be in her own world, picking at her food more than usual and occasionally glancing around the room, almost as if she had something else on her mind.

You couldn't help but feel a bit of nervousness from her too.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that soon, you'd be asking the most important question of your life.

As you were both eating in comfortable silence, Tara suddenly set down her fork and shifted in her seat. She looked like she was trying to gather her thoughts, and then she spoke up, her voice soft but uncertain.

"So..." she began, her eyes filled with nervous energy as she looked up at you. You immediately sensed that whatever she was about to say was important, so you paused, giving her your full attention.

"I've been thinking about something," she continued, her words tentative, as if she was unsure how to start.

For a brief moment, a thought flashed through your mind—was she planning to propose too?

But that idea was quickly replaced by a gnawing feeling of concern as you noticed the hesitation in her voice, the way she avoided your gaze for just a moment too long.

"I'm not really sure how to say this," she finally said, her voice wavering slightly. "But... I've been having some doubts lately. Not about us, exactly, but about... where we're headed. About the future."

Her words hit you like a cold splash of water, and suddenly the nervousness you'd been feeling took on a different edge. You forced yourself to stay calm, to keep listening as she continued.

"It's not that I don't love you," she said quickly, as if she could see the worry in your eyes. "I do, so much. But I've been wondering if we're moving too fast, or if maybe... we're not moving in the same direction anymore. I've thought a lot about it, and I keep coming back to the same thing. I don't know if I can keep going like this, if this is what's best for either of us."

Tara's voice cracked slightly as she continued, her words coming out in a rush, as if saying them faster would somehow make them hurt less.

"I've been thinking about this for a while, and I didn't know how to bring it up because the last thing I want is to hurt you. But the more I've thought about it, the more I realized that maybe this is the right thing, for both of us. I don't want you to think that this is about you, or that you did something wrong, because you haven't. You've been nothing but amazing, but I just... I think maybe we've grown in different directions, or maybe I'm just not in the right place to be in a relationship right now."

"I think... I think we need to take a step back. Maybe a break, or maybe... we need to stop this altogether."

She paused only briefly before continuing, her words stumbling over each other as she tried to justify what she was saying.

"I mean, I don't even know if I'm making sense right now, and I'm probably messing this up completely. But I just don't want us to keep going down this path if it's not the right one, you know? I care about you so much, and that's why this is so hard. I wish I could just... make this easier somehow."

You felt your heart shatter with each word, your entire body going cold as the reality of what she was saying set in. Your face must have betrayed the sheer disbelief and devastation you felt because Tara's eyes softened, but it did nothing to ease the pain ripping through you.

Your hands, which had been steady on the table, began to tremble uncontrollably. You quickly pulled them into your lap, trying to hide the shaking but finding it impossible to stop.

The fork you had been holding clattered against your plate as you set it down, your fingers no longer able to maintain their grip.

It felt like your mind was racing and shutting down all at once. You couldn't focus on her words, the constant stream of explanations and apologies blending into a blur of noise that only amplified the void growing in your chest.

It was as though the ground had disappeared beneath your feet, leaving you suspended in a moment of pure, paralyzing disbelief.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it only seemed to grow, making it hard to breathe.

The sting of tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked rapidly, refusing to let them fall, not here, not now.

Your lips parted, as if to say something, but no words came out. How could they, when everything you wanted to say felt too small, too insignificant compared to the enormity of what was happening?

The silence between you was suffocating, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat a painful reminder of the reality you were struggling to accept.

Tara's eyes were fixed on you, wide and pleading, as if she desperately wanted you to understand, to say something that would make this easier, but there was nothing you could offer her.

Your hands, now hidden beneath the table, clenched into fists so tightly that your nails dug into your palms, the pain barely registering against the overwhelming numbness that had settled in.

You could feel the warmth of the room closing in on you, the walls seeming to press closer as you fought to keep your composure.

Tara's voice broke the silence again, softer this time, almost a whisper. "I'm so sorry," she said, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I didn't want it to be like this. I wish I could take it all back, but I can't. I just... I didn't know how else to do this."

Her apology only added to the weight in your chest, and you could feel a tear finally escape, slipping down your cheek before you could stop it.

You quickly wiped it away, but it was too late—Tara had seen it, and the sight seemed to break something in her too.

She reached out, as if to comfort you, but hesitated, her hand hovering just above the table before she withdrew it again, uncertainty written all over her face.

It was as if she knew that any attempt to console you would only make things worse.

"I never wanted to hurt you," she whispered, the words barely audible as she looked down at her hands, now twisting together in her lap. "You have to believe that."

You wanted to scream, to demand why, to tell her how wrong she was, how she was breaking something that had been so good, so right.

But all you could do was sit there, frozen, as the weight of her words continued to sink in.

The future you had imagined, the plans you had started to make in your head—it all felt like it was crumbling before your eyes, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

The silence stretched on, heavy and oppressive, as you sat there, staring blankly at your lap. Tara's words seemed to hang in the air, and the weight of them was almost unbearable.

The tears you had been trying to hold back had started to fall more freely, slipping down your cheeks in a steady stream.

Tara watched you with a mix of anguish and desperation, her own eyes brimming with tears that she was struggling to keep at bay.

"Please," she said, her voice breaking as she finally spoke, "please say something."

Her plea was almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of her regret and her need for any kind of response from you. She was clearly tormented by the sight of you in pain and the realization that she was the cause.

As you sat there, lost in your turmoil, the restaurant's ambiance seemed to fade into the background.

The clinking of dishes and the soft murmur of conversations around you felt distant and muffled. The weight of the conversation you'd just had with Tara hung heavily in the air, each word echoing painfully in your mind.

Just then, the sound of footsteps approached your table, and a waitress appeared, holding a small, elegantly wrapped box. She smiled warmly as she set the box down in front of Tara. "Congratulations!" she said cheerfully.

The unexpected greeting cut through the somber mood, and Tara's eyes widened in surprise. Her gaze darted between the box and you, the reality of the situation hitting her with a jolt. "Oh... um, we didn't order anything like this," Tara said, her voice a mix of confusion and discomfort.

The waitress smiled politely. "It was actually a special request from someone who wanted to celebrate with you. I hope you enjoy it!"

Tara's face turned pale as the waitress walked away, leaving the box on the table. The cheerful congratulations seemed to hang in the air, contrasting starkly with the heavy silence that had enveloped the two of you.

As Tara stared at the box, the realization began to dawn on her. The weight of her words, the hurt she had caused, and the timing of this surprise all seemed to collide in her mind.

Her gaze fell back to you, the gravity of the moment settling in even more deeply. The congratulations, intended for a joyous occasion, now highlighted the painful irony of the situation.

Tara's hands trembled slightly as she reached for the box, her fingers hovering over it as if touching it might make the reality of what was happening even more real. "Is this... is this what I think it is?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mix of disbelief and dread.

You didn't respond right away, your eyes fixed on the box as well, but not really seeing it.

The moment you had spent weeks planning, imagining how it would unfold, had turned into a twisted echo of what it should have been.

The anticipation, the joy you had envisioned on her face, was replaced with this heavy, suffocating silence.

Tara's voice grew more desperate, almost pleading as she repeated, "Were you... were you going to propose?" Her eyes searched yours, looking for some kind of denial, something that could make this all less real, less painful.

You nodded slowly, your throat too tight to speak. The words you had prepared, the heartfelt confession of love and commitment, were now stuck somewhere deep inside, unreachable.

Tara's fingers trembled as she carefully unwrapped the box, her breath catching as she lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in a bed of velvet, was the ring—delicate, simple, and exactly her style. The realization hit her all at once, leaving her breathless.

She stared at it, eyes wide with the shock of realization.

She paused, her breath shaky as she tried to form a coherent thought. "I... I thought we were on the same page. I thought... God, I didn't mean for it to be like this."

You could see the tears welling up in her eyes, but you couldn't bring yourself to say anything. The words felt too heavy, too final. All you could do was sit there, the ring between you like a painful reminder of what could have been.

She looked up at you, her eyes filled with regret. "I... I didn't think..." she started, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words.

The box, meant to be a celebratory gesture, now seemed like a painful reminder of everything that was unraveling.

The sight of the box, coupled with the realization of how her actions had intersected with the surprise, only deepened the sadness in the room.

She knew that the box was part of a carefully planned proposal—a gesture that was supposed to mark a new chapter in your lives together.

Her thoughts were consumed by the realization of what you had intended.

She could almost see the moment you had envisioned: the box opening to reveal a heartfelt message or token that would lead into a proposal.

Tara had always admired how much thought you put into your plans, and she could imagine the love and hope you had poured into this gesture.

The irony of the situation hit her. Hard.

Here was a beautiful, wrapped box that was meant to symbolize a future together, and yet, it was now sitting in front of her at a moment when the future seemed so uncertain.

The very thing that was supposed to be a celebration of your commitment was now a reminder of the choice she had made.

Tara felt a deep pang of regret as she thought about how much you wanted to marry her, how you had envisioned this proposal as a milestone in your relationship.

How you had trusted her enough.

She grappled with the realization that while you had been preparing to take a significant step forward, she was now pulling away.

The box represented everything she was suddenly unsure about, and the emotional weight of that contradiction was almost unbearable.

The anticipation and excitement she might have felt for the proposal were overshadowed by the painful reality of the moment, making her wish more than ever that things could be different.

As Tara struggled with the emotional weight of the moment, another waitress approached your table with a notepad in hand.

"Excuse me," she said with a bright smile, "are you ready to order your desserts?"

The question seemed to pierce through the heavy atmosphere, and you sniffled before looking up with tear-filled eyes. Your voice was barely above a whisper, trembling as you said, "I don't think we're staying for dessert. I think we're going to leave."

Tara's heart broke at the sight of you, her own tears threatening to spill as she saw the pain in your eyes.

The sadness in your voice, coupled with the way you tried to hold yourself together, was almost too much for her to bear.

The image of you standing there, so small and hurt, was a stark contrast to the joyful proposal you had imagined.

As you began to stand up, Tara's voice cracked as she reached out, her hands shaking. "Y/N, please don't leave."

She paused, searching for the right words, her voice filled with desperation. "Please, let's just... talk this through. I don't want to lose you like this. There's so much I need to say."

Tara's gaze was locked on you, her eyes pleading as she took a shaky breath. The pain of the situation was evident in her expression, and she hoped against hope that you would stay, if only for a little while longer.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure as you finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's fine, Tara."

But your voice betrayed you, shaking as you said the words, even though nothing about this felt fine.

You wanted to say more, to explain how lost and hurt you felt, but the words caught in your throat, and all you could do was shake your head slightly. "I just... I don't know what to say."

You sniffled, quickly wiping away a tear that escaped before Tara could see it. "I'll talk to you later, okay?" But even as you said it, the words felt empty, like a promise you weren't sure you could keep.

Without waiting for a response, you stood up from the table, your movements stiff and mechanical, as if you were on autopilot.

Tara watched you, her eyes wide with guilt and fear, but she stayed silent, her throat tightening as she saw the pain etched on your face.

You turned to leave, and Tara instinctively stood up, almost as if to follow, but she stopped herself.

Her hand gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white as she held herself back. She knew she couldn't make this better right now, and the weight of that realization pressed heavily on her chest.

You pushed open the door, the night air hitting you as you stepped outside.

For a moment, you paused, feeling the tears threatening to spill over again, but you forced yourself to keep walking, each step taking you further away from the person you thought you'd spend your life with.

Inside the restaurant, Tara remained standing, her heart aching with a crushing guilt she couldn't shake.

She wanted to call out to you, to beg you to come back, but the words wouldn't come.

All she could do was watch as you disappeared into the night, the echo of your voice—the pain in it—ringing in her ears.

And as the door swung shut behind you, Tara was left standing there, alone, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on her.

She didn't move, didn't sit back down, just stood there, staring at the spot where you had been, feeling like everything had just slipped through her fingers.

But she knew, deep down, that following you wouldn't fix this—that nothing she could say right now would take away the hurt she had caused.

And that was something she would have to live with.

So she stayed where she was, the guilt heavy and suffocating, knowing that all she could do was wait and hope that this wasn't the last time she'd see you.

But she also knew that, for now, there was nothing more she could do.

Walking away, every step was taking you further from the life you thought you'd have, the future that had seemed so certain just hours before.

You had believed that you and Tara were writing the same story, that the future you both wanted was shared, built on a foundation of love and dreams whispered late into the night.

But standing there, with her words unraveling everything you thought was certain, you realized that while you had been planning a lifetime together, she had been questioning if that future was ever truly meant to be.

The hardest part wasn't just hearing her doubts—it was understanding that she had quietly let go of the future you were still holding onto.

She had left that future behind long before she ever said the words, moving on from the life you thought you would share.

And now, all that was left were the pieces of a dream that you had been building alone.

#jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x fem!reader #vada cavell x reader #wednesday addams x reader #mabel x reader #melissa barrera x reader #sam carpenter

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dollypopup · 6 months ago

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People don't give Penelope enough props for the absolute BRAVERY it took in asking Colin for a kiss!!! I am tired of the rancid takes of 'oh, it makes her look pathetic-' no. Penelope asking for that kiss is VITAL in her growth, and pivotal to Polin's love story. Some flowers for Colin, first, for having put in years of work into their relationship so that Penelope trusts Colin to the point where she would even dare to ask it of him, but flowers to Penelope for asking. She trusts him and she's familiar with him and she KNOWS she's safe with him, and she took a leap of faith. So much of Penelope's arc is hiding what she wants and who she is, melding into the shadows, putting on a front. She doesn't confide in much of ANYONE. Not even Eloise knew about her love for Colin, or her existence as Lady Whistledown. Penelope keeps so much close to the chest.

Which makes it such an amazing moment when she opens up with Colin. When she reveals what she desires, and when he responds with 'If you want this, I'll give it to you'. So in that scene, when she's heartbroken and sad, after she has written of her own humiliation in Lady Whistledown to circulate amongst the ton, adding her own name to her list of bullies, when she thinks she is well and firmly on the shelf, and Colin comes to check on her, and he won't allow her to think badly of herself, and he even goes so far as to bribe her maid to have a moment with her, she opens her heart up enough to ask him for what she wants.

And that is beautiful. It deserves props and recognition. To ask for what we want as women is radical, and I'm frankly sick and tired of people thinking she's 'pathetic' for it. Penelope is brave in this scene. She is brave and vulnerable and Colin is there to tell her that is okay. That it should be rewarded. That he will catch her and he is there and she is right to trust him. He is the safety net as she tumbles and steps into the unknown.

Penelope Featherington looked the man that she loves in the eye, and she asked him to kiss her. How many of us would have the iron spine necessary for that? Sure, maybe she thinks she's hit rock bottom, but she could have swallowed her truth as she so often did. She chose not to. Penelope Featherington, who only ever voiced her opinions on a page, anonymously, stood before him with nothing to protect her heart, bare-faced, and told Colin Bridgerton she wanted him to kiss her. That she wanted to be loved.

And he did. He did and it was lovely. It was a fantastic kiss, and in that moment, you can tell that she *was* loved. Is loved. He held her like she was starlight, precious, delicately grasping her chin, brushing her cheek; he pecked her once and then went in for more. That kiss had desire and longing and tenderness in it. It was gentle and wholehearted. It was them learning each other, the both of them flaying away another layer for the other to keep. Penelope asked him for what she wanted and she got it. And it was ultimately the catalyst for all her desires to come to fruition.

I feel like we as women are told we must be passive so often: don't be too loud, don't ask them out, don't look 'desperate'. But fuck that: Penelope is an active participant in her love story. She asks Colin for what she wants and he provides it for her eagerly. That kiss made him realize that what he felt for her was far more than just friendship, and it started with 'Would you kiss me, Colin?' and ended with him outrunning HORSES to catch up with Penelope so he could, on his knees, profess how much he wants her and how he can't stop dreaming of their kiss. She toppled that first domino. May we all be so courageous. May we all be so bold. May we all be so loved.

Penelope put her own love story into motion with that kiss. We should fucking applaud her.

#polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #bridgerton #i will hear NO first kiss slander not a fucking iota of it

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the-kr8tor · 17 days ago

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Can I please have Cardamom and ❣️??

So basically Hobie brown and reader are spider people, and they haven’t seen each other for like a looot of time. So then, Hobie decides to sneak in and he’s just so smitten by reader that he’s just a lovesick puppy for her

So yeah, thank you!!!

Thank you for requesting! I was giggling while writing this lol

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader/ Spider-Punk x fem! Reader

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw injury, established relationship, spider person! Reader, lovestruck! Hobie. Fluff

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

When Hobie heard through the grapevine full of gossiping spider people that you've finally come back after a month-long mission in a dimension where the only difference is that garlic didn't exist, he half sprinted all the way from the other side of the society towards the infirmary. He can already sense your presence through the door as he practically rips it from its hinges.

With the back of the door banging on the wall, doctor spider groans audibly, eyes rolling when he hears Hobie's roaring voice echo throughout the busy clinic as he calls for you.

“Your lover boy's here.” Doctor spider says monotonously while he rips away the bp machine from your arm before you launch yourself at Hobie. “Doesn't he know that he's not allowed inside yet?”

“Hobs!” You sit up, ignoring a certain doctor. Clutching your side but despite the throbbing ache, you make grabby hands at the very happy Spider-Man bounding towards you.

“Love!” He weaves around fellow spider people expertly, dodging their hands, and their yells telling him that he's not allowed inside the busy clinic just yet. His eyes are glued on you while you sit on the cot; warm hands already upon his own the second he reaches you. “Fuckin' ‘ell, who did this to you?” His smile falters as he sees the various gashes on you, some are still fresh and angry on your precious skin.

“I'm fine,” you flex your battered fingers around his palm, thumbs rubbing along his life line. “Nothing I can't handle.”

He tips your face to the side gently with his index, wincing when he sees stitches just below your ear. “What happened ‘ere?”

“Got too close to Doc's arms. Don't worry, he looks way worse than I do.” You take his wrist, flipping and placing it atop your thigh while you flip away at the hem of his glove to massage along his tensed muscle. His concerned eyes continue to scan you for injuries, frown deepening with every bandage and bruise. Sighing, you reach for his cheeks, poking each of them playfully. “Hobie, I'm good, and I'm home in one piece. C’mon, you must have stories to tell that I've missed while I was gone.”

His soft smile returns, arms reaching for your waist, rhythmically tapping your hip carefully; a nervous tick of his. With a chuckle, you let him in your space, half hugging you as he rests in the middle of your legs, back half bent, and forehead pressed atop your shoulder as he breaths you in. Soot and all.

“We found out that Gwen's allergic to peanuts in the worst way.” He finally says after a moment of languishing in your presence.

“Oh shit, is she okay?” Rubbing his back, you can see that doctor spider has had enough from Hobie's ‘intrusion’, he walks towards you, clipboard and stethoscope in hand. You wonder if he's about to use it as a weapon.

“Yeah—” he senses the doctor stalking behind him. Before he could get a word in and kick Hobie out, in one swift movement, Hobie pulls the curtains closed around your cot. “Where were we?” You can hear the disgruntled doctor huffing behind the curtains.

Chuckling, you cradle his face in your hands, thumb ghosting over his lip piercing. “I think we were about to be on doctor spider's shit list because you were about to ask me to come home with you.” You smugly say with a scrunch of your nose.

Hobie grins lopsidedly, lips reaching for the pads of your thumb to press a quick kiss on it. God, you've missed that. You missed him. “I didn't know you were clairvoyant, lovie.” He lifts you up carefully, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist as he carries you at his front. His arms are tucked around you, careful of your injuries. “I've been growin’ garlic for you in the garden.”

You sigh longingly, eyes focused on him and not the angry Miguel silhouette behind the curtains. “I love you.”

“You're about to love me more.”

With a peck just below your jaw, Hobie opens the portal to home and jumps in before Miguel could even finish yelling his name.

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mostly-marvel-musings · 2 months ago

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Baby whisperer

A/N: My baby fever with Mr. Stark is baacckkkk. Anyone care to join me???

Pairing: Tony Stark x F! Reader

Warning: 18+ fluff

You were on the verge of tears at this point.

It had been hours and you were still struggling to get your baby to settle. You had tried everything that normally would get her to fall asleep, you’d fed her, bathed her, placed her in her favourite rocking chair, even sang to her but it wasn’t working tonight.

Nothing was.

With the ever raging hormones, you felt like a failure who couldn’t even get her two month old child to sleep. Her wails were proof enough that you weren’t doing enough.

You were pacing back and forth in her nursery, patting her back gently while she screamed, your clothes already ruined when she spit up earlier. You’d have to take another shower, you thought. But all you wanted was for your baby to settle so you could too.

Like every new parent, sleep was non-existent these days but holding your precious daughter, watching her toothless grin and listening to her incoherent babbles made everything worth it.

She was everything you and Tony ever wanted.

Speaking of Tony, you asked the AI where your husband was, not hiding the irritation in your voice as she informed he was down in his lab, as always.

“Tell him it would be grand if he cared to visit his daughter and distraught wife, would you FRI?” You grumbled, still pacifying your baby whose cries had settled to a certain extent, but she was still fussing about.

“Did someone summon Daddy Stark? How are my favourite girls?” Tony’s arrival didn’t hinder your pacing, his eyes widening slightly when you threw you him your ‘you’re in trouble’ glare.

“She won’t settle today. I’ve tried everything.”

Immediately your baby squirmed in your arms, it was as if she was waiting for her father to hold her. Passing her to Tony carefully, you let out a sigh and took a seat in the plush armchair that sat next to her crib.

“Hazel M Stark, I heard you’ve been a little cranky today. How about we close those beautiful eyes and show Mama we can behave, huh?”

You watched in awe as Tony spoke to Hazel, his voice soft as ever, holding her against his chest as she settled down in minutes. He began humming a lullaby in Italian, one that made her drowsy in no time.

You knew this lullaby since he would often sing it to you during the last few weeks of your pregnancy when you were getting little to no sleep thanks to the discomfort that came with growing a baby in your belly.

He had been a calming factor throughout when you had initially presumed he would freak out the most. Whenever the baby’s kicks woke you up in the middle of the night, all he’d have to do was place his hands over your tummy and she would settle.

It was from then you knew that she’d be Daddy’s little girl. And every day ever since, was just proof that you were right.

It was heartwarming to watch, but equally annoying in times like these. All he would do was lovingly take her in his arms and she’d be content. But to be fair, you were the same when you’d initially got together with the man.

Shocked and offended as you were, you were relieved to see your baby finally calm and quiet, fast asleep before Tony gently laid her in her crib, making sure she had her stuffed rabbit and blanket secured around her.

“Are you sure you don’t secretly have more kids running around?” You joked, shaking your head in disbelief as you gazed down at Hazel, who was now sleeping blissfully.

“Excuse me? If you must know I have three.”

You chuckled, accepting Tony’s hug as he rubbed your back soothingly, placing a loving kiss against the side of your head. It was then when you allowed yourself to fully feel the exhaustion you were ignoring, the ache in your muscles, the heaviness in your eyelids, all of it. If you could, you’d sleep for sixteen hours straight but you knew there was only a couple of hours you would be rewarded with before your newborn would wake up for her feeding.

“Come on, Mama. Let’s get you to bed. I got another special lullaby for you.”

#tony stark x reader #tony stark x female reader #tony stark fluff #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark imagine #tony stark x you #tony stark #the stark squad #mostly marvel musings #marvel fanfiction

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heartlesscorpse · 10 months ago

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Pyramid Head thoughts 🩸🔪 △

Catering this to myself and my hornee NEEDS and anybody else’s ig because I’m a dirty boy rn and I have too many thoughts in my head revolving around my man and I need to spill my guts before I lose this precious brain rot. Oh yeah this got some nsfw shit (it’s gonna be like further down) so be sure to read at your risk, and don’t mind the occasional out of context shit bc that’s just my comments and me giggling so hard abt this fine mfer— this was pretty fun to make too ngl, I might do more in the future if I ever get anymore ideas from things or from people, Idk we’ll see.

Pyramid Head’s possessive asf over his s/o, when you’re living inside a hellhole of a town full of monsters and a cult run by a bunch of lunatics, who else is gonna protect your ass none other than this 7’0” deity??? Man wouldn’t even hesitate to kill anybody or anything that came way too close to you.

Man’s not even gonna let you out of his sight for a second, wherever the hell you’re going he’s coming with you, you’re a fragile little thing after all. He doesn’t want anything bad happening to you, not on his watch.

The size diff between you and Pyramid Head is endearing as well as arousing just thinking about how he could manhandle you into any positions he wants and watch you struggle to take him in. You’re just so short compared to him, he finds it cute. <3

It’s fun to carry you around everywhere he goes because of how short you are compared to him. Doesn’t matter if you get a say in this or not, he’s gonna carry you whenever the hell he pleases and he’ll never let go.

Pyramid Head would’ve associated you with the colour white and some times gives you white clothing because you’re pure and the only non-sinner in this shit hole of a town.

Who the fuck needs a bed when you have Pyramid Head??? Hell, he’d probably prefer you to sleep on top of him so he could hold you in your sleep and protect you from all the dangers of Silent Hill. Not to mention he’d like the feeling of how squishy you are in his embrace, particularly your thighs, he likes wrapping his hands on them and squishing them gently in your sleep. Might be a form of comfort saying “I’m here, everything’s okay”, or he’s just admiring them. Who would’ve thought a large monster living on violence and inflicting pain on sinners would be so gentle with you? (Unless you wanted him to roughen you up a little of course then by all means, he’ll fuckin’ do it.) >:))

Because Pyramid Head only exists in Silent Hill and doesn’t know a lot about the outside world, it’s rather adorable watching him get all confused with that head tilt of his whenever you explain certain things to him couples do on a regular basis besides sex, but he does show some curiosity on said topic and possibly willing to do those things with you as well.

Pyramid Head enjoys receiving attention from you, be it either hugs from behind or give him kisses on his helmet or the tongue— anywhere else is prolly gonna give him some other ideas of sorts, rnskfbsjfbw.

OH BOY the fucking dirty brain rot persists. If this man ever happened to be feeling horny he honestly wouldn’t hesitate taking your clothes off in one tear the second he has your consent.

Did I mention abt the size diff last time? Making you take in his cock nice and slow isn’t gonna do much, he’d want you to get over with the pain fairly quick so he’ll just push it in without warning lmao, of course once he’s in, he’ll allow you a brief moment to adjust to his size and once you’re all good he’s going to pound the fucking daylights out of you.

AGAIN WITH THE SIZE DIFF it’s just so satisfying and enjoyable to him watching you writhing and moaning underneath him like that, accounting to that just seeing you stuffed full of his come and utterly blissed out is adorable. (Like man I— let him rail me already PLEASEE)

And he’s for sure going to tease the fuck out of you to overstimulation until your mind is nothing but a puddle of mush and you’re begging for him. <33

Aftercare in the end is amazing, he’ll help clean you up by fucking eating you out with his tongue and then he’ll lay there with you in his arms, with a blanket big enough pulled over top to cover the both of you while you snuggle up in the mean time. A possible guarantee you’re gonna have a blast trying to walk in the morning./j

🥩⋆♱✮♱⋆🔪 🩸

#pyramid head #dead’s dying #dead’s hcs #smut #fluffies #gn reader #pyramid head x reader #slasher x reader #brainrot hrs

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tteokdoroki · 2 years ago

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Isagi is golden retriever behavior. Tell him to bakr he will do it. Tell him to kneel he will. He will protect you with his whole being even if he seems to be nice guy. He isn’t afraid to throw hand s

*ੈ🌩️‧₊˚— as close as strangers + yoichi isagi.

૮˶ᵕ ༝ᵕ˶ა synopsis — while at a bar with your sister, a stranger comes to your rescue and he’s not afraid to come to your defence.

⭑ warnings — please read + mdni ! characters aged up to 20s, fluff, strangers to lovers, meet cute, reader has a younger sister, weird men at bars (harassment kinda? but it’s minor), pro player!isagi, fem!reader - not beta read !

⭑ words — 1.4K.

⭑ notes — thank you nonnie for sending this in!! I got a little itty bit carried away but i hope you like it !! - m.list ✩

unironically, a bar can be one of the most dangerous places on earth. with its overpriced and watered down drinks, loud and disruptive patrons, and not to mention the countless number of men that can’t seem to take a hint. you find the sticky table tops gross and the peanut shells on the floor uncouth but you’re here for your little sister — who wanted no more than drinks and to catch up, filling you in on the details of her latest fling (who she’s sure is the one, despite it being the fifth time) since you returned to Japan.

you work a lot, you travelled abroad for college too so it’s been ages since you’ve last breathed the same air and walked underneath the same sky. you’d feel bad for missing this opportunity to meet someone important in her life while you still had it.

and you love your sister, so while she powders her nose in the bathroom as you both wait for her boy toy, you’ll put up with the stench of beer and the sleazy stranger arms length away from you who just can’t seem to get it through his head that you’re not interested.

“c’mon sweetheart, just one drink. lemme buy you a beer.” the stranger slurs over the top of his own beverage that threatens to spill into you as he encroaches on your personal space.

shaking your head politely, you lean away. “no thank you. i’m not to keen on beer.”

“then whas’ your drink of choice, cutie. let me know what i can get’cha.”

nothing. you refrain from rolling your eyes. nothing that he could afford. grabbing a handful of peanuts to distract yourself, you de-shell them with ease and chew on them to avoid speaking any further.

“no thank you.” you say plainly, reiterating yourself.

he still doesn’t seem to understand, cosying up to your side — his alcohol tainted breath cascading over the shell of your ear. “then let’s get out of here, i’ll get you somethin’ you can really enjoy.”

“i’m waiting on someone.”

“who? a boyfriend?”

“yes,” you lie as easy as breathing — you’re almost certain he wouldn’t leave you alone if he found out you were with your sister. “he’ll be here any minute.”

the stranger lets out a chuff, “i don’t see him, gorgeous girl—“

he reaches for your hand and it causes a wave of uncomfortable goosebumps to rise along your skin. you shudder, hold back a gag, and if only the bartender was closer you could signal for some form of help but you can’t bring yourself to move.

that is until a warm arm slips around your shoulders— and instead of being slimy and unsettling, the presence of this stranger behind you is comforting and safe. “there you are precious, sorry for being so late, i got caught up with work.” this man’s is smoothe like molten chocolate or rather honey running through your ears, and you find yourself enticed — leaning into him as if he’s a safety net.

you turn, only just, catching a glimpse of the stranger’s handsome side profile — his skin is golden, glowing as if it had been blessed by the god’s of the son. his eyes are a blue im a shade that you cannot match, it’s almost unreal to you. his hair his soft, his face calm and again, he feels so safe.

“i missed you,” you breathe the words into existence as if they’re natural, allowing a smile to overtake your features. “it’s okay.”

the dark haired man gives you a firm nod before looking over your head at the drunkard who had been bothering you. he offers a hand to him. “hi isagi… the boyfriend. do we have a problem, here?”

you recognise the name from somewhere but say nothing, letting isagi handle the situation from here.

“n-no sir! i-i’m so sorry i didn’t realise that—“

“good,” isagi’s voice lowers an octave, far less welcoming and kind than when he had initially addressed you as your fake boyfriend. “then next time you’ll take a hint and learn to leave women alone when they tell you no the first time. fucking creep.” he spits, squeezing you into his side protectively.

the stranger’s eyes blow wide and he lowers his head apologetically but you’re too focused on how flustered isagi’s whole act is making you feel. “a-again! i’m really sorry! i’m a huge fan i would never—“

“are you just that dense or do i have to repeat myself? scram.” isagi growls once more and does so until the man that had been bothering you flees the scene. within an instant, the tall dark and handsome man jumps away from you with an apologetic smile — and you embarrassingly admit to yourself how much you miss his embrace. “i am so sorry for touching you without asking. i-it’s just that i could see he was making you uncomfortable and no one else was jumping in so i just—“

turning around to face isagi fully, you shake your head and offer him your brightest grin. “it’s okay, if it hadn’t been for you i don’t know what would have happened. thank you…”

you pause to give him time and isagi trips over his words to give you his full name. “yoichi. yoichi isagi!”

you respond with your own name, trying not to dwell on the familiarity of his.

the pair of you spend the next few minutes chatting about everything and anything. you find out that yoichi likes soccer and has since he was a child. that he was an only child as well, travels a lot and has seen the whole world, though he thinks it gets a little lonely. you shyly admit that you feel the same — especially when work drags you across the globe and away from your family here in Japan.

the flow of your conversation is only interrupted by your little sister emerging from the bathroom excitedly, her nose effectively powdered as she waves an arm at you. “i see you’ve met isagi already!” she beams, sliding into the bar stool on your left while isagi takes your right.

“wait, you two know each other?” you squeak — how mortifying would it be that your younger sibling’s new boyfriend is the man you’ve been crushing on for all of fifteen minutes. “is he…the one?”

the duo share an amused look over the drinks that your new friend had ordered, your sister shaking you as if to snap you out of your trance of crazy. “god no! isagi is way too polite to be my type. my bachira is a little more adventurous!” she rambles, all love sick like. “no offence yoichi!”

“none taken,” he laughs before focusing all of his attention on you , making you squirm under the surface of his ocean blue eyes. “i’m just here for moral support. bachira was nervous about meeting you so i told him to take a lap around the parking lot to calm down before he came in.”

“wait bachira— as in meguru bachira? that one player from the blue lock team? i just styled him for my magazine in the US last month? that’s who you’re dating?” you ramble, eyes wide — which only seems to amuse isagi even more.

“uhuh, and this,” your sister grabs you by the shoulders and rotates you to face isagi, who’s cheeks flush red with nervousness. or shyness. “is yoichi isagi. blue lock’s heart and soul and your date for this evening. you’re welcome!” she sings.

“oh my god! i thought i recognised you! s-she used to have posters of you in our room back when bluelock was streaming!”

“you’re the one that used to kiss them!”

“you’re the one that’s dating his best friend!” you counter her stubbornly, but her attention is quickly stolen away by the world famous dribbler that slips through the doors — bachira’s own face lighting up when he spots her from across the room. your sister melts, running over and jumping into his arms. you can’t help but swoon, realising that whatever she has going on with bachira is obviously more serious than whatever chance at love she’d had before.

they look happy. you’re happy for her. “they’re cute together, aren’t they?” isagi mumbles, elbowing you gently with the wisps of a smile on his lips.

“oh yeah, big time.” you agree, taking a sip of your drink as you scoot closer to japan’s beloved striker. “you’re not mad that he swiped her from right beneath your feet?”

“nah,” yoichi responds simply, scooting closer to you as well. you let your gaze drift over from the happy couple to meet isagi’s fond one, looking down at you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world. “i’d rather have that kind of happy with the girl who was making out with my merch.”

you punch isagi in the shoulder out of embarrassment, and when his timbre laughter fills the room — you can’t help but think you’d want that happiness with him too.

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piratecaptainscaptainpirates · 1 year ago

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We all know OFMD has been tremendously healing to watch when you're queer, but it's honestly just amazing to see as a person of color, too. I am so, so used to characters of color being the only non-White cast member, or stereotypes, or being told that "hey, x Disney character is Black now, aren't you happy about that?"

And OFMD has so many characters of color that are allowed to be complex and nuanced. I'm almost never able to enjoy historical fiction because of how the genre often treats characters of color, but OFMDs characters of color feel like real people who I know in my family and community. Olu isn't a big scary Black man, he's so sweet and practical and a little bit awkward around his crush. Frenchie is comically superstitious and able to pull off an awesome con. Roach loves piratical violence but he also makes lovely assortments of tapas and is delightfully offended when Stede insults his cooking. Jim is allowed to be cool and mysterious and a little bit goofy. Fang is so precious I smile every time I think about him. And don't even get me started on how amazing it is to see an indigenous Jewish man as a romantic lead!

One of the worst things about historical fiction, for me at least, is how all the characters of color are almost always there just for trauma porn. It so often feels like Black characters especially are just there for White audiences to feel bad for. But in OFMD, anti-racism and anti-colonialism are baked into the narrative. Racism exists, but we always get the last laugh, whether that's by knifing a racist through the hand or setting a boat of rich racist assholes on fire.

It encourages me to feel like I can ask for more from other TV shows. I don't have to just roll my eyes and put up with yet another historical drama where the only Black character's arc revolves around the trauma of slavery. It's so refreshing to see. I can't wait for more of it in season two!

#ofmd #it's a good show guys

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manias-wordcount · 1 month ago

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Angel's Choice (Tomura Shigaraki, Dabi/Touya Todoroki)

Kinktober 2024 Day Fifteen: Cucking

𝗟𝗼𝗰𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝗢𝘂𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗛𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝗦𝗰𝗲𝗻𝗲: 𝗼𝗻𝗲 || 𝘁𝘄𝗼 || 𝘁𝗵𝗿𝗲𝗲 || 𝗳𝗼𝘂𝗿 || 𝗳𝗶𝘃𝗲

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙚?

If you were to ask pretty much anyone, you were Shigaraki’s.

That didn’t mean the rest of the League didn’t have their fair share of you, of course. They’re too insatiable to let you exist normally. Especially since you’re locked away in their compound where your only purpose is to heal injuries and pull your panties to the side whenever someone starts unzipping their pants behind you. So naturally, it seems like hardly a day goes by without someone putting their cock in your mouth. And you can always tell based on how a conversation starts whether or not you’re gonna be placed on someone’s tongue while being called Angel-Chan and being begged to spill some of your “precious nectar” for your “loyal followers.” Whatever that meant.

But there’s a reason why they stopped buying you clothes other than panties and hoodies with Tomura’s favorite characters and games on them after he had decayed everything that was stolen from your apartment. There’s a reason why when Tomura comes around, you’re supposed to stop what you’re doing and listen to him like some type of eager puppy. There’s a reason why your room is Tomura’s room and the arms you sleep in every single night belong to a man who could kill you if he so much as accidentally slipped a glove off one of his hands as he tossed and turned in his sleep. It’s because if you were to ask pretty much anyone, you were Shigaraki’s.

But if you were to ask Dabi…

“You’re really gonna cum just by watching me fuck her? Pathetic.”

…he would just make sure you knew not to ask him such a stupid question ever again. Because you’re his. You’ll always be. He was the one who found you first, after all.

“Mmm…” You let out a weak sound at Dabi’s words, but it’s practically drowned out by the sound of skin slapping against your skin as Dabi pounds into you from behind. It was supposed to be the start of a sentence. A sentence that told Dabi not to antagonize Tomura so much. Unlike him, you’re not exactly built for combat. But you know Dabi wouldn’t care. And you know Dabi wouldn’t let you get away with such a thing either. So it’s a good thing you could barely speak right now.

And it’s a good thing Tomura is too wrapped up in watching you get fucked stupid to even care about what Dabi says to him.

Usually, he isn’t this placid when he sees you getting fucked. More often than not, you usually find him annoyed that someone had the same idea and he did and beat him to the punch or eager to join in and have one of your other holes for himself. But something was different this time. The Tomura you knew would have thrown a fit when he saw Dabi barge into his room and snatch you out of the bed. The Tomura you knew would threaten to kill anyone who dared burn your underwear off of your body and bend you over his own bed. The Tomura you knew wouldn’t allow himself to be torn from his precious sleep only to be a willing participant- a willing watcher- in the way that Dabi indulges in you.

But the Tomura in front of you is staring at you with wide eyes and a fist wrapped around his cock. Pumping at it furiously and squeezing around the angry, red head as it aggressively leaked precum all over his hands and sheets. Almost like he’d die if he didn’t cum while watching Dabi fuck you into the mindless, submissive, little whore the League of Villians has conditioned you to be.

“Angel-chan… Need- angle-chan…” You could hear Tomura groan out the very nickname you’d grown to love and hate so much as his hips started to jerk and stutter. You can hardly keep your eyes open long enough to watch. But from what little you are able to observe, you know he really is close to cumming. Just from jerking off. Just from jerking off while watching some other man (one of his subordinates, no less) stick his cock inside of his precious Angel-chan. “Need angle-pussy…need it…need to- need to have it…”

“Freak,” Dabi barks out almost immediately at Tomura’s words. You couldn’t help your own reaction to his words either. The shiver down your spine was involuntary, despite being far too familiar with Tomura’s obsession with you. Even still, neither of them makes much of a move to address the other “You’ll get Angel's pussy when I’m dead. Just shut up and watch her take it.”

In front of you, Tomura starts to mash his teeth together and thrash violently. It looks something like the beginning of a meltdown. Something you absolutely hate to witness due to his sheer destructive and unpredictable nature. But even so, he doesn’t move too far from his original spot on the bed. He doesn’t reach out for you either. Nor does he reach out for Dabi. Not to push him off of you. Not to kill him either. It goes to show you that there is some level of restraint at the moment.

As much as you know you should hate him- hate both of them- you don’t like seeing Tomura like this. The (involuntarily-retired) nurse in you can’t stand it. You can’t stand the way Dabi’s chest is now leaning over your body either. Allowing him to fuck you deeper as he whispers words far too sweet and almost romantic to come from a murderer’s mouth. And allowing him to look directly into Tomura’s eyes while he tosses a few cruel taunts into the other man’s direction. Egging his boss to do something about the way he’s making you feel. Trying to get a rise out of his leader and remind him that Tomura isn’t the only one who has your affections.

But even if you wanted to, you couldn’t do anything about it. You couldn’t do anything about the way Dabi bares his teeth and shows you off to the other man. You couldn’t do anything. To help. To hinder. Nothing. In fact, Dabi’s ironclad grip on your hips is the only thing keeping you upright at this point. Well, if you could even call this “upright” anymore. Your arms have long since given out on you- too worn and exhausted to even try to brace yourself at this point. But to Dabi, it’s perfect. This position is perfect.

For both of them.

Dabi enjoys seeing your face from time to time, sure. He likes to make comments about how you screw your nose up and squeeze your eyes shut when you’re about to cum. He likes to kiss you deep and hard so he can save all your moans for him. It helps that keeping you quiet is one way to ensure he can keep you to himself at least a little while whenever he sneaks off with you. But he likes it even more when you’re face is pressed down into the mattress and your ass is up for him. He told you once that this position made him feel some sort of way. That you made him feel some sort of way. Like he was powerful. Like he was corrupting you. Like you were nothing more than just a set of tight holes and a pretty voice.

At the time, you had a bit more of a fighting spirit. So you spat out that you were being corrupted. That you were being treated like nothing more than just a set of tight holes and a pretty voice. But Dabi didn’t like the way you said it to him. He didn’t like the sudden burst of attitude that he got.

So in response, he just fucked you harder. Perhaps even harder than he is right now.

But Tomura? Tomura always liked being able to see you. To Tomura, your body was perfect. But it wasn’t because you had exactly what he wanted to stick his dick in, ready at any given moment. Your body was perfect because it was yours. Your boobs and ass were perfect not because they jiggled whenever you were being tossed around or put on all fours. It was perfect because it was attached to you. It was perfect because in whatever position he had you in when it was his turn to fuck you, he could watch them as much as he wanted. Only to turn his head a second later and look at the blissed-out little faces you would pull whenever you’re starting to feel a little too good.

However, that was only when he was in control. When he could set the scene. Because that’s when he could have you in any way he wanted without having to share you with the rest of his subordinates for “morale-boosting” reasons.

So you thought for sure he’d hate this. You thought for sure he’d hate you see you whithering and moaning and whining and whimpering on some other man’s cock in front of him. Wearing one of his hoodies and gripping his sheets. Making a creamy mess of yourself and his bed as your wetness gets everywhere. Moaning a name that isn’t Tomura or Shigaraki or even Tenko in front of him. You thought for sure he would despise this. You thought for sure he would despise you for this. But…

“Gonna…gonna cum, Angel-chan…”

If he hated you, would he really be fucking his fist as hard as he was right now? If he hated you, would he be beating his dick and staring deep into your eyes and calling out your name right now?

He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Because after all the stunts you’ve pulled with him? After all the times you’ve tried to run or fight or disobey or even hurt him, Tomura still tells you that he loves you. Tomura still tells you that he needs you. He needs Angel-Chan. He needs her as much as he loves her. His Angel-Chan. His Angel-Chan. His Angel-Chan.

Who occasionally, yet always, belongs to Dabi too.

Still, you have a difficult time believing that the scene in front of you is true. Because right now, you’re crying out with every snap of Dabi’s hips- minding going blank at every thrust. You’re practically sobbing through your every moan and tightening up with every thrust. And now, your vision is blurry, and you swear Dabi has got you going cross-eyed with the way he keeps shoving himself inside of you and poking at your g-spot without so much as a care in the world. But Tomura?

Tomura is just angling his cock in front of you as his fingers move up and down at lightning speed around him. Tomura is just begging for you to open your mouth- pleading with you so that you may catch some of his cum in your mouth. So you could make him happy. So he doesn’t feel like he’s losing you to some other man because he was too entranced at the sight of someone else roughing you up to put up a fight he knew he could easily win. And Dabi?

Dabi is fucking you even harder than before and challenging him so that he could make you cum before Tomura can even begin to smear his cum on your face. Because Dabi likes what he’s seeing. Dabi likes that you’re tightening up at the mention of a little less than friendly competition brewing between the two of them that hinges all on the moment that you finally cum. Dabi likes that the very same man who orders him around is rapidly turning into some sort of whiny mess right in front of him.

All because it’s Dabi whose cock is buried in the side of your perfect little cunt while Tomura is forced to fuck his fist instead.

But what could you do? What could you do when your every breath is stolen by thrusts that are too rapid and deep and perfect for you to string together a few words. What could you do when you have a quirk for healing physical wounds and a body worth creating new injuries and enemies for? What could you do when you know for a fact that you can’t decide between one or the other. You just can’t.

Because they both think they own you.

Because they both want you for your body. Because they both want you for your quirk. Because they both want you to be the little piece of softness waiting for them at the end of a long day. Because they both want you to be the little piece of heaven that proves they’re worthy of something villains never get. Worthy of something like love. Affection. Perhaps even happiness. But that’s all the more reason why you can’t decide between the two of them. That’s all the more reason why you can’t decide between one or the other. You just can’t. You can’t.

Not just because you don’t who you’re more scared of. Not just because you know all too well what they’re both capable of. But because you’re afraid you’ll have to face the cold, hard, ugly truth: the fact that you love them. The fact that you’ve come to love them. And that fact that you’ll inevitably come to love one of them more than the other. Because you will. One day, you will.

But for now, you’ll catch Tomura’s cum on your tongue and you’ll let Dabi fill your pussy with his cum until his balls, are nice and empty and drained. And then you’ll let them flip positions and start the process all over again. Over and over and over again. Because you won’t do anything to stop it. Because you can’t do anything to stop it. Because it’s better if you don’t.

If it means keeping the peace, it’s a small price to pay. If it means staying the course, it’s just a drop in the ocean. It means keeping yourself- keeping everyone- alive, you’ll do it. And you’ll do it well. It’s an Angel’s job save, isn’t it? So the very least you could do is save them from themselves. The very least you could do is save them from each other.

Especially since you no longer have the chance to save yourself.

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yourheart-inmyhands · 1 year ago

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YOU HAVE A CAT?! ME TOO?!

She hates me tho :(

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Zhongli, Neuvillette and Dottore

With a fox!darling that is always with animals and isn't social at all due to heavy torture in her past and they discover it? 💀

Man I'm in need of some gore rn 💀💀

- Weird anon ✨

i'm so sorry but i just couldn't write neuvillette for this prompt, he's too precious DX

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including being held against will, delusional behaviors, torture, breaking of bones, and other potential topics. Please Read At Your Own Risk!

Yandere!Zhongli sympathizes with you, and since it’s clear that the animals bring you comfort, he allows you to keep a couple when he moves you in with him. He even goes the extra mile and builds a special enclosure so they’ll be just as content as you are, even if you aren’t receptive to his love yet.

When he finds out about your past, which is inevitable with how overbearing he can be and how good he is at finding out things from the locals, it almost hurts his heart a little. But the more sickening side of him is thrilled because now he knows exactly how to get to you, exactly how to make you his perfect little spouse.

Whether it’s be reintroducing trauma through breaking bones, locking you in a cold, damp room with no lights for hours on end, or even things that border on torture, he’ll use it against you so long as it won’t entirely ruin you. While he wants you compliant to his whims and wishes, he doesn’t want you to be a shell, it would’ve been a waste of his time to break you to that point;

Zhongli would never stop as low as hurting your animal friends, but if need be he could certainly find ways to turn them against you. It’s almost amusing to him, the way you care so much for creatures who you’ll outlive. How you care so much for creatures who don’t even really know you, funny.

The sickening crunch of bone echoes through the room as Zhongli stands over you, the heel of his shoe digging into the freshly crushed bones in your leg. The makeshift gag, a towel from the kitchen, dug into the sides of your mouth as it muffled your screams and cries. The Geo Archon almost feels bad for using his strength in such a brutal manner, but it would all be worth it, at least that was how he justified it to himself. It wasn’t about the now, but rather what now would soon be bringing him. By breaking you down bit by bit, sending you spiraling back into some of the worst moments of your life, he could slowly rebuild your shattered pieces how he saw fit. What use was a puzzle if the pieces weren’t in the correct order, right?

Yandere!Dottore is sick, sick, twisted, and absolutely disgusting. If he wasn’t the cause of your original trauma, you could surely bet he’d be the driving force behind re-traumatizing you.

Whether he chooses to reenact every step, or to simply do something far worse than what had previously done it all dependent on how he feels that day. Some days will be so similar to your past that you’ll truly feel like you were back there, all those years ago. Other days are so awful it almost makes what happened in your past seem insignificant as if that were a stone among boulders resting on the ocean floor.

Dottore does think it’s funny though, using it as both amusement and research opportunities. It wasn’t often that animals such as yourself came across his table, so of course he’d taken the prime subject as soon as he’d laid eyes on you.

In his lab, you aren’t seen as anything but a thing that exists only for Dottore’s own gain. If you’re lucky one of his more sympathetic clones might take pity on you and actually give you a day to rest when he’s out of the Palace, but they’re expected to keep up the same treatment he inflicts in his absence.

It was almost sickening to the segments as the watched the fox-human endure soul shaking torture day in and day out. Everything from injections to straight up live surgery to see how much pain the body could take whilst awake had occurred on the cold, steel table. They were often left to clean up the mess, expected to stitch you up, administer antidotes to anything too harmful that had been administered today, and even sometimes bathe you due to the mess that had occurred. You’d been fed little since you arrived, given water only when necessary for your survival, and hadn’t seen sunlight in days- or months maybe? With the sickening way time seemed to pass, you couldn’t tell how long you’d been here. Your only reprieve would be when the doctor left for something more pressing, leaving you in the care of his segments that only sometimes took pity on you. Some seemed to hold a little more humanity than others.

#genshin x reader #genshin x male reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin x male reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli x male reader #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere zhongli x male reader #dottore x reader #dottore x male reader #yandere dottore x reader #yandere dottore x male reader #yandere zhongli #yandere dottore #yandere genshin

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daisybianca · 1 year ago

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pairing: lewis hamilton x yn

summary: lewis is kind of a mafia type of guy here, but he still remains the best f1 driver in history with 8 championships (!). mafia means that he kinda kills people. he's always hot put now he is double hot. idk if that's even possible, but anyway. you're his girl, and he sees that someone made a bruise on your hand. spoiler alert: i doesn't end well for the guilty man.

warnings: lots of cursing words, sexual actions, mentions of death, etc

(a/n): it is written in 1 pov, from his point of view. though it couldn't get any hotter? nah, it can.

WHEN I UNLOCK my mansion's door and come see my girlfriend crying, three completely different options pass through my mind.

One. Killing someone.

Two. Making someone regret.

Three. Doing both of those after kissing my woman's tears until the don't exist anymore.

I rush to her on the couch, not even bothering to shut the door behind me. "What happened, baby?" I get on my knees and try to hold her close to me. She doesn't meet my gaze. She's hidden her face behind her little hands, but I can still take a glimpse of her scorching hot, red cheeks. "Hey, y/n, talk to me." I try to persuade her, even though it seems impossible.

"P-please," she stutters, and something dark and colorful captures my attention on her left wrist.

Fuck.

It's a bruise. A fucking bruise. A huge one to be exact.

I try to compose myself. It's not even enough. I think my jawline starts to tremble, and I don't even notice at first. "Y/N," I force her to look at me, forcing her hands away off her beautiful face. Her features are soft but her precious eyes have turned swollen and her lips are tighter than ever. "Who did this to you?" The words come out sharp. I don't even think about them to be honest.

She is my fucking woman. These are the rules. Nobody is allowed to touch her in a way that she doesn't want to. Not even me.

I cup her small face with both my hands. "Who hurt you, baby?"

I hear a soft cry and then she tries to speak again but doesn't manage to do it properly without stuttering.

Fuck, I won't look good in jail clothing.

I bit my lip in order to not lose it just at this fucking moment. My fists become a ball. My girl notices and places her little ones over my hands to stop the shaking.

"Baby, please," I mouth. "Tell me who the bastard is, and I swear, he'll never see sunlight again to touch you." Forcing myself to stand up, in a matter of seconds, I sit on the couch, and she's moved on my lap. I think I'm losing my mind each time she looks at me, and I don't know who to kill. "Just tell me a name, Y/N."

She finally stops crying. Fuck.

My heart jumps each time she attempts to speak but is unable to due to the silent sobs.

A few seconds pass.

A few more, too.

Eventually, I feel a hand pressing on my chest and immediately blood rushes straight to my cock.

Damn it.

Of course, my dick doesn't get the whole situation. It has a whole brain of its one. In fact, we are under hard circumstances right now. And surely, there can't be anything harder than that at the moment.

She hides her face in my neck. I place my hand on the back of it and wait.

I think my blood pressure is on its fucking limits when she turns to face me. "It's my ex." She blurts out suddenly. I want to laugh but I don't.

Oh this fucking bastard again... Though we were done with him by the time I threatened him with his life if he ever got close to my girl again. But he definitely isn't the type of guy loyal to anything. Not to promises, not to threats, not even to his ex-girlfriend.

"He asked to meet me. I said no, but he wouldn't understand. He was waiting outside my place this morning, claiming he'd like to talk. I wanted to get away from him, but he grabbed my arm and..." her voice breaks.

I hold her for a few seconds as the sobs initiate again. Afterward, I get up and make a very important call. Returning, I am very pleased to meet a much-better-looking, without-any-tears woman sitting on the couch and scrolling through her phone.

Noticing me, she looks at me. I try to smile. "He'll be dead till midnight." Sitting next to her, I take her on my lap and kiss the dry tears off her cheeks.

And then I start undressing her, not because my dick is asking for it since one hour ago, but because she seems in the mood for it.

"I just want you to fuck me, Lewis." She says as I press my palm around her neck and spread wet kissing along her breasts. "Fuck me like you hate me."

I smile. "Baby, I could never hate you."

"Just do it for an hour," she moans against my ear. "Please."

I stop to look at her, laughing. "An hour?" I rise my eyebrows. "Love, you underestimate me."

She laughs too, and we're off to upstairs, where one of the mansion's bedrooms is located.

I want to make love to her, truth to be told. Passionate and delicate. But she asked for a rough fuck.

She knows I'm a man capable of doing both. So I proceeded to doing them.

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n0cturn4 · 2 months ago

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A Moment Like This

Character: Jason Todd x Reader Summary: Word Count: 818 Music: So This Is Love - Cinderella

The morning was born slowly, painting the room in a soft golden hue, as if the sun itself hesitated to disrupt the stillness that enveloped you both. Light poured gently through the gaps in the curtains, drawing delicate shadows across the bed, where the two of you rested, entwined in the warmth of the moment. The world outside kept spinning, chaotic and relentless, but there, amidst the soft sheets and Jason's tranquil breaths, there was a bubble of serenity that neither of you dared to break.

You awoke before him, your eyes gradually adjusting to the tender glow of dawn. The weight of Jason's arm, casually draped across your waist, brought a rare sense of security, as if that simple gesture conveyed all the unspoken things he still couldn’t put into words. Your bodies moved in perfect harmony, every shift of his echoing within you like a distant murmur of something profound, something eternal.

His face, relaxed for the first time in so long, was a portrait of peace. The usually hardened features, etched by battles both physical and emotional, were softened by a calm that only the quiet of morning could offer. You traced each detail — the fine scars along his jaw, the subtle lines life had forced upon him too early, now seemingly dissolved in the softness of the moment. Each mark was a map of the life he had lived, a story told silently under the morning light.

You breathed deeply, feeling the gentle caress of the fresh air drifting in through the open window. It carried the scent of the distant city, mingled with the faint perfume of clean sheets and Jason’s warm skin, creating a subtle melody of sensations that filled the space between you. There was something sacred in that silence, as if time itself was holding its breath, allowing you both to exist there, together, unhurried.

Jason shifted slightly, his eyes fluttering open with the softness of someone unaccustomed to waking up in peace. When he looked at you, the deep blue of his eyes seemed to capture all the light of the dawn, glowing with an intensity that always accompanied him, but now, in this intimate moment, was tinged with a tenderness you rarely saw. He said nothing at first, just watched you, as if he were trying to commit every detail of you to memory, as if he knew moments like this were fleeting for him.

He ran his hand down your face with a delicacy that seemed to contrast with everything he was — the warrior, the vigilante, the survivor. His thumb traced the curve of your cheek, slow and reverent, as if every inch of your skin were a precious discovery.

"You make the world... feel quiet," he murmured, his voice husky, barely breaking the silence around you.

Your heart tightened at those words, so simple yet loaded with meaning. Jason, who had spent his life battling against the noise — both external and internal — now found in you an island of tranquility, something he had never expected to find. You leaned in, your lips brushing his gently, a kiss slow and soft, as if time itself had paused in that brief instant.

"Because here, it's just us," you whispered against his lips, feeling his warmth blending with yours, the world outside fading away in that small eternity you shared.

Jason closed his eyes, resting his forehead against yours, your hearts beating in unison, and in that simple gesture was a depth of vulnerability. He was so strong, so unyielding to the world, but there, in your arms, he was just Jason — the man, not the soldier. A sigh escaped his lips, as if he were allowing himself to relax completely, for the first time in so long.

“I didn’t know I could... let myself feel this way,” he whispered, the words so low they almost dissolved into the air, but you caught them, feeling the weight they carried.

You ran your hand through his hair, the touch light, as if soothing a storm on the verge of breaking. “Now you know,” you answered softly, with the certainty that only love can bring.

Silence fell between you again, but this time, it was comfortable, like an old song you both knew by heart. The sunlight continued to spread across the room, but for the two of you, time was still suspended. Jason, lying beside you, seemed more vulnerable than ever, and you knew that despite all the chaos surrounding him, he had found peace, even if it was only for that brief morning.

The love you shared was like that — a refuge amidst the darkness, a golden light shining even in the darkest corners of Jason's life. And in that moment, as the warmth of the morning wrapped around your intertwined bodies, you knew, with the depth of every heartbeat, that this was the home he had been searching for: not a physical place, but you.

#x reader #jason todd/you #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd x reader #jason todd #jason peter todd #jason todd x you #reader insert #dc x reader #fanfic #jason todd/reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd drabble #red hood x you #n0cturn4 whites ♡

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writteninlunarlight-years · 2 months ago

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Poet on the Broadcast

This is another one based on a song; it's a more sappier side of Alastor. It was also written for a close friend, @willowaudreykeyes. They gave me this bittersweet idea in an RP that we are working on. I hope you all enjoy it! Song: Rule#46 - Poet By Fish Inside a Bird Cage

TW: AFAB Reader, death, self sabotage, hallucinations, poor living experiences, violence, Hurt-> Comfort

Time was a cruel mistress indeed, an unrelenting thief that snatched away the very things we hold most dear. With every tick of the clock, she mercilessly stripped us of youth, laughter, and loved ones, leaving only echoes in her wake.

You were no exception. You bore witness to Alastor's fall—the haunting shadow of his demise forever etched in your memory. The freezing winds whipped through the snowy woods as you ran, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum. Hounds barked, their growls reverberating through the trees, a sinister chorus to the chaos all around you. Gunshots rang out like thunder, each a heavy reminder of the danger that lurked just behind you. Every breath felt like a precious treasure, stolen not just from you, but from the man you loved, who had been a light in your dreary life.

Time granted you fleeting moments of respite, allowing you to catch your breath as you evaded the hounds as your partner wished in his dying breaths. Yet, it also forced you to confront the harsh reality of survival, time and again brushing against death for the sins of your beloved. For the enemies he created and formed in the years he stood by your side.

You lived a modest life, flitting between the opulence of high society and the grit of the streets. Each day was a delicate dance, a balancing act between the world of privilege and the shadows of hardship. But with every birthday that passed, a bittersweet yearning filled your heart—a longing to reunite with Alastor.

Then, just as that desire reached its peak, you closed your eyes letting time take you to the great unknown with the man you lost years ago. Except time no she is a cruel mistress indeed. You were awoken in a different body, younger, in a time that felt both foreign and familiar.

How cruel is time, to gift you this love only to rip it from your grasp again and again? How many lifetimes must you endure, each one marked by the haunting memory of him, always just out of reach?

In this second life, you became a PhD student, a mind lost in the pursuit of knowledge, but also a vigilante in the shadows of the city, fighting for those who had no voice. Yet, the memory of your beloved Alastor lingered, a ghostly echo of a man who was both psychotic and completely yours.

As the years drifted by in this new existence, the lines between memory and imagination began to blur. Why had you been granted this second chance? Was it a blessing or a cruel curse? Was the vision of Alastor beside you, whispered in the dark, merely a figment of a child’s imagination, a way to escape the unrelenting horrors of your reality?

As your birthday came and went once more, a darker fate awaited you. You found yourself thrust into a hellish red landscape, a cruel irony considering you had committed no sins. Roaming the streets of this infernal realm, you quickly adapted, your years spent fighting alongside Alastor sharpening your instincts, allowing you to rise swiftly within the ranks of hell.

Then, four years into your torment, you heard a broadcast that sent shivers down your spine. The Vee's were in an uproar, and you felt an inexplicable pull to the source of their distress. You tuned in, and the voice that emerged from the static struck a chord deep within you. It was a voice you had longed for, a melodic tune you remembered all too well—a voice that transported you back two lifetimes ago, when you would sit by the window at dusk, eagerly awaiting his return.

Could it be? That past life, once dismissed as mere fantasy, began to feel so so close to real. The stories he spun during that late-night special were ones only you knew the other half of, secrets woven into the fabric of your shared existence that you feared were long forgotten to time.

With your heart racing, you began to search for him, following the trail of his voice to a hotel for Hazbins seeking redemption. There, amid a myriad of misfits longing for a second chance, was a figure that made your heart leap—a deer demon who looked so painfully familiar yet foreign, a man shaped by the passage of time.

What is time, if not a relentless force that dulls the senses yet sharpens the soul? It is a cruel teacher, reminding us that every moment counts, that love, once lost, can sometimes be found again.

Driven by hope, you joined the redemption program, longing to get close to the man who resembled the Alastor of your memories. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and as a year slipped by, you found the courage to ask him the question that hung in the air like an unspoken promise.

“Are you Alastor, from New Orleans, 1920s, engaged to Y/N?” The question trembled on your lips, heavy with anticipation. You braced yourself for the lash out, for the fierce anger that had always danced in his eyes.

It was the very fire that had once ignited your passion and fear alike. But instead of a storm, you were met with a soft, bewildered stare. The smile that tugged at his lips was both awe-inspiring and heart-wrenching.

“How do you know about Y/N? Answer wisely, or your screams will be broadcast next for all of hell to hear.” His voice was low, edged with disbelief, and for a moment, the deer demon seemed almost vulnerable—a rarity in any world you knew him in.

“I am Y/N…” Your voice quivered, a fragile thread of conviction woven with longing. You hoped he could see the truth in your eyes, but as his expression morphed from shock to confusion and then to a flicker of spite, you understood that time was still playing its cruel game.

“No, no, you aren’t! Otherwise, you would have found me ages ago!” He stalked over to you grabbing yout collar. He growled in frustration and his grip tightened around your throat, lifting you to eye level, his horns casting ominous shadows. “How dare you pretend to be her? Who told you about that part of my past? Who do you know?”

Steadying your breath, you summoned every cherished memory, every detail only you could recall. The words poured from your honey-coated lips like a sweet symphony, and as he slowly let you down, a fond smile broke across both your faces.

“Lastly, you thought it blasphemous that I would put ice, honey, and lemon in my tea when you made it for me, telling me I might as well not be drinking it anyway.” As you spoke, the memory unfolded like a picture book bare before you, and before you knew it, he had pulled you into a tight lasting embrace.

Was this it? Had time finally allowed you to win? Had you endured enough in this limbo of two unfair lives? This embrace realigned everything that had felt lost for so long, a warmth spreading through your very being.

“I waited for you! I waited for years—ninety long years, my dear!” His voice trembled with emotion as he produced a collection of scripts, each one a fragment of his past, a thread leading back to you. Stories from the early days to the most recent broadcasts, all crafted to help you find him.

“I’m sorry it took so long, Ali… I truly apologize. I would wait a million years to stand beside you. But I am not who I once was. I am broken, scared, and changed by the lives I’ve lived. Would you really want that beside you?” Insecurities threatened to seep into your resolve, but the deeper you delved into the truth of your rough pasts, the more you realized how time had shaped you both.

He looked at you, confusion etched on his face, and then he laughed—a sound free of static, pure and unfiltered. Gently, he pulled you closer, his sigh a whisper of shared pain and understanding.

“You are stronger than you know. When you’re ready to let that strength show, let me guide you. You have every right to be scared; I have walked those same shadowed paths myself. When you’re ready to let go, I will be right here. I will always wait for you.”

At his words, tears welled in your eyes, a torrent of emotions spilling forth. No matter the hardships time had imposed or the years spent apart, you recognized that this love spanned lifetimes—enduring, unwavering. If he was willing to wait for you, then you would fight for him, heart and soul, against the cruelty of time.

Thank you for the support, my Moons~

#x reader #lunarwritings #moons #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x reader fluff #alastor x you fluff #hazbin hotel alastor #hazbin alastor #alastor imagine #alastor fluff #alastor #alastor the radio demon #the radio demon

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missy4176 · 3 months ago

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-A Rare Smile-

Kim dokja x reader

In the vast, unpredictable world of scenarios and uncertainties, there are very few things that can draw out a genuine smile from Kim Dokja. His existence has been one of solitude, marked by a deep understanding of narratives and the bleakness of reality. He knows the weight of every choice, the price of every action, and the transient nature of happiness in a world governed by stories. Yet, amidst all this, there is one exception—you.

Kim Dokja’s smiles are not frequent. They are as elusive as a gentle breeze in the midst of a storm. To most, his face remains a mask of neutrality, his eyes reflecting the depth of his contemplations and the burdens he carries. But for you, his significant other, you’ve come to recognize the subtle changes in his demeanor, the slight upward curve of his lips that speak volumes of the emotions he seldom reveal

Reader Perspective

In the beginning, you weren’t even sure if what you saw was real. Kim Dokja’s expression was often hard to read, and even when he did smile, it was fleeting—like a shadow passing through the light. But over time, as your relationship grew, you started to notice that these rare smiles weren’t so rare when you were around.

Every morning, before the sun fully rises, you wake up to find him already awake, sitting at the edge of the bed, his back turned to you. There’s a calmness in those early hours, a rare moment of peace before the chaos of the day begins. You often find him lost in thought, his eyes distant as if reading through countless scenarios that have yet to unfold. But when you softly call his name and he turns to face you, there’s a softness in his gaze, and for just a second, the corners of his lips lift ever so slightly. It’s a smile meant only for you, a silent greeting that speaks of a love unspoken, yet deeply felt.

Kim Dokja isn’t a man of many words, but you’ve learned to cherish the silences between you. Whether you’re reading side by side, your head resting on his shoulder, or simply walking together without a destination in mind, there’s a quiet comfort in these moments. It’s during these times that you catch him watching you from the corner of his eye. When you turn to meet his gaze, he quickly looks away, but not before you catch that faint smile tugging at his lips, a small, precious token of his affection.

There are times when he surprises you with small, unexpected gestures. Perhaps it’s a cup of tea he makes for you after a long day, or a blanket he drapes over your shoulders when he notices you shivering. These actions are always done quietly, almost as if he doesn’t want to draw attention to them. But you always notice, and when you thank him with a warm smile, he can’t help but return it. It’s in these simple moments that you see the walls around his heart begin to crack, revealing the tenderness he so carefully hides.

In the world of stories, where reality often blurs with fiction, Kim Dokja’s life has been a series of battles, both external and internal. But in the safety of your presence, he allows himself to be vulnerable. After a particularly difficult scenario, when the weight of his choices becomes too much to bear, he seeks solace in your arms. You hold him close, your fingers gently running through his hair, and as you whisper words of comfort, he buries his face in the crook of your neck. And when he finally pulls back, there it is—a smile. It’s faint, weary, but genuine, a silent expression of gratitude and love that only you are privy to.

To the rest of the world, Kim Dokja remains an enigma—a man who navigates through the labyrinth of narratives with an unfathomable understanding and an unwavering resolve. But to you, he is so much more. His smiles, rare and fleeting as they are, are a testament to the depth of his feelings for you. They are a reminder that, despite the countless scenarios and the uncertainty of the future, there is a part of him that is irrevocably yours.

In those precious moments when his smile graces his face, you are reminded that you are not just another character in the story of his life. You are his anchor, his source of light in a world that often seems too dark. And though he may not always say it, each smile tells you that you are the one who has managed to reach the heart of a man who has always kept the world at a distance.

Kim Dokja’s Perspective:

Kim Dokja is fully aware of how rare his smiles are. He’s spent so long surviving, strategizing, and keeping his emotions in check that the very idea of letting himself feel anything beyond necessity is foreign to him. But with you, it’s different. You make him feel things he thought he had buried long ago—things like warmth, safety, and, dare he admit it, happiness.

He knows that his smiles are fleeting, but he also knows that you notice every single one. It’s something that both scares and comforts him. Scares him because it means you see through his defenses, and comforts him because, in a world where everything can be taken away, you’ve become the one thing he can hold on to.

So when he smiles at you, it’s not just a reflex or a reaction. It’s a choice. A conscious decision to let you in, to show you a side of him that he doesn’t show anyone else. And in those moments, Kim Dokja allows himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he deserves this small slice of happiness in a world full of uncertainties.

#kdj x reader #kim dokja #kim dokja x reader #manhwa x reader #omniscient reader x reader #orv x reader #x reader #reader insert #romance

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quitealotofsodapop · 6 months ago

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Known your not feeling well and I'm sorry to ask but this idea for jttw stoen egg au just kept nagging at me. This takes place during the Journey of course since it's, essentially, during and right after the Camel Ridge incident.

After the rather disastrous meeting of Wukong's brothers, whom entire existence explains way too much about their most chaotic member for the Pilgrim's comfort, particularly in regards to his habit ofmputting himself into danger without a second thought and reavted to even the alightest hint of failure, Tripitaka determines they need a break. So they find an inn.

Macaque, he lost his eye. Unlike in the other aus, it wasn't Wukong who took it. It was Azure. And Wukong is absolutely distraught over both how things escalated and how he had unintentionally been forced into the position of a damsel in distress by Azure. The way his trusted elder brothers, whom he had looked up to, had turned against him and how the man he had admired had crippled his precious mate to whom he only recently reunited with he himself unable to do anything due to his baby! How he had intentionally kept Macaque away from him, he later discovered. It all culminated into a very, very upset monkey.

Macaque for the most part is okay with the loss of his eye. As far as he's concerned, it's a small price to pay for to make up for how horrible a mate he's been to his Peaches and what any person would do to protect their mate. He's too injured to really do much of anything, but he tries to stay as close to Wukong as possible. Ao Lie finds it sweet.

Tripitaka, however, is not happy. He had trusted in the bonds of Wukong's family, having had nothing but good, if terrifying experiences with them, and had nearly lost Wukong because he'd trusted the wrong demon! He isn't mad at Wukong or Macaque, as neither were really at fault since nobody expected Azure to pull that stunt, but the fact it happened angers him. To discover his first disciple had suffered and been betrayed by one he trusted enough to call brother is nothing less than an outrage to him. The more he learns about Wukong's treatment by the Brotherhood from Macaque, the more Tripitaka wishes he had not been a pacifist.

Wujing and Baije have had their worlds rocked in an irreparable way. They'd already accepted that their belief about Wukong being the monster they had once thought he was most certainly had been destroyed by then. Zu Baijie has even come to tease Wukong as his Little Big Brother and looked forward to being an uncle for Wukong's cub! But to discover all of Heaven's beliefs about the Havoc and the War thay followed was a fallacy created by one man who manipulated their brother into doing the crimes he did when he was but a cub... it doesn't sit right for either of them, and they notably stand closer and more protectively of Wukong for a bit. As close as his overprotective mate will allow them, at least, yikes! And Baijie had thought Ao Lie was aggressively protective! He's got nothing on the shadow monkey!

prev.

Ohhhh the idea of Mac losing his eye to Azure in the Jttw SE au is galaxy brain. Since Mac lost his eye in his canon fight with Wukong, losing the eye whilst choosing to protect Wukong is a really good story twist!

The Pilgrims and the Brotherhood are not having a good first meeting, and Macaque sees it all go down.

He hates the Pilgrims personally; dragging his King away from the island where he's needed, forcing him to act as an errand boy for the Buddha, that disgusting circlet with the mantra even he feels in his skull.

Macaque had watched Wukong and his travelling companions from afar long before revealing himself to them. He had overheard the jubilant calls from Flower Fruit Mountain that the King had returned - but also heard the disappointed confirmation that he had chosen to continue on a pilgrimage with the Tang Monk to Thunderclap Monastery. The shadow monkey had leapt from his employment with Jiuweihuli to devote himself entirely to tracking down his returned mate (the vixen had not minded, she understood that her protégé's heart was yearning).

Macaque trailed the group for weeks before the Brotherhood ever thought to ask him for his input. Macaque had spat his hatred for the hypocritical monk, the perverted swine, the thoughtless fish, and the useless dragon-horse, so venomously that the three demon kings were convinced of his loyalty to them.

However, Macaque's disdain for the Pilgrims did *not* mean his devotion to Wukong swayed. Because something disgusts him even more than this whole Journey;

How his former brother Azure treats Wukong.

Treating Macaque's King, his Peaches, his Mate; like he owned him. That Wukong surrendering was tantamount to betrayal. They speak of him as though he's one of the gods that repressed them. Their sworn brother, the person who sacrificed his freedom for their survival!

Then Azure grabs Wukong by the shoulder and orders that the king stay in Camel Ridge. Giving their former leader an offer that sounds far too layered and provocative to be one of mere loyalty...

Macaque: "I'm going to have to stop you right there Azure. Wukong goes where he damn well pleases. And if he doesn't want to stay here with you, then he should be allowed to leave." Azure: (*dumbstruck by Macaque's outburst*) Peng: (*shocked but impressed bird noise!*) Yellow Tusk: (*calmly prepares for the rumble thats about to go down*) Wukong, in awe at Mac's protective act: "Mihou..." Macaque, rushes over to Wukong: "Peaches... I- I thought it was wrong for you to go on this pilgrimage, but you've... healed. You were really hurt when they sent you under that mountain, I saw it first hand, and even though I don't care for your companions-" Zhu Bajie: "Hey!" Macaque, continues: "-they clearly have your best interests in mind. They jump to protect you, even though they know you're strong enough to bend the sky in half. I've seen the Monk allow himself to be tossed from a horse's saddle just to convince you to ride instead of walk in your condition." Wukong, happy tears: "Master's cassock is still stained from that day..." Macaque, happy laughter: "And I still have the bite wound from when I first approached you. From the monk!" (*Wukong & Macaque press their foreheads together with affection*) Macaque: "This is going to sound... absolutely insane, but from what I've seen and heard in the few weeks... I'd like to stay along for the ride. If you'd have me." Wukong, trying to hide his joy: "You mean it?! You'll come with us all the way to India!?" Macaque: "Yup. Beyond that too." (*gently places hand on Wukong's mid-section*) "I wanna be there to see the Egg come into this world. And be there to see how much havoc they cause our kingdom." (*Romantic monkey noises ensue!*) Tripitaka: "Um... I'd hate to intrude-" Zhu Bajie: "No you don't." Tripitaka: "True. But we are currently in the middle of being attacked by three of your former sworn brothers." The Brotherhood: (*already mid-battle with Ao Lie and Sha Wujing*) Macaque & Wukong: "Oh yeah..." "Forgot they were still here..." Macaque: "Be back in a moment peaches." Macaque: (*Rushes at Azure and turns into his Kaiju form*) Wukong: (*purring and heart-eyes*) (*♥ω♥)

The ensuing fight is pretty brutal, all things considered. Even though Wukong does swing his staff around, the others don't want to risk his health in his condition. Tripitaka and Ao Lie in particular keep trying to route Wukong away from the battle entirely.

Macaque and the dragon end up forming a tag team to take down Azure, whilst Bajie and Wujing deal with Peng and Yellow Tusk respectively.

Azure suddenly changes course, aiming his sword for Wukong's middle.

Macaque jumps ahead of the swing.

Wukong screams as blood sprays both him and Azure.

Macaque crumbles to the ground, his face a red mess. A massive gash stretching across his face and cutting through his right socket.

Wukong feels his heart stop.

And within seconds; Yama and the Ten Kings greet the three rogue celestial animals in their court. The bodhisattvas and the Buddha's most trustworthy arrive shortly thereafter, looking supremely disgusted with their steeds' actions.

Macaque is out cold for days afterwards. The Pilgrims find the nearest inn brave enough to operate in demon territory. The monkey is silent and unmoving, but his heart still beats. Wukong refuses to leave his bedside for even a moment.

The Pilgrims finally understand how much both monkeys mean to one another.

Bajie does his best to comfort his little-big brother, feeling the sympathy of a hundred heartbreaks. He takes over cooking duties without being asked for the first time in forever. He starts making soups.

Ao Lie sneaks into the room in his smaller dragon form, curling against Macaque's body and whispering for him to please wake up and not leave brother Wukong to raise his pup without his mate.

Tripitaka is furious. Not at his disciple or even his disciple's antagonistic mate. But at the Brotherhood, at the Taoist Gods, himself - every level of anger he's every felt in one lifetime. Wukong even hears his Master attempt to take his rage out on his holy vestments (he had thought to strike a tree or rock but decided against it). The cassock and hat are noticeably crumpled the next time Wukong sees him.

Sha Wujing is the one to suggest that they all come together and meditate and pray in this dark moment. His qi exhausted from (without his brothers' knowledge) astrally contacting any and all people who may wish to see the Macaque one last time. He felt it was the least he could do.

Guanyin appears, called forth by each Pilgrim praying for the shadow monkey's survival. A certain king's prayer the loudest of them all. All the goddess can provide is a drop of her healing waters to awaken Macaque from his coma.

Macaque right eye is permanently blinded. Azure's divine attack destroyed it entirely. A blow meant for Wukong - no, meant for the Egg. Without even caring for his injury, Macaque immediately springs forward, worried about his King.

Wukong cries so hard with relief that he gets hiccups. Him and Macaque do not part from their embrace for hours.

The Stone Egg begins kicking for the first time.

#jttw stone egged au #post jttw stone egged au #shadowpeach #sun wukong #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #lmk tripitaka #lmk zhu bajie #lmk ao lie #lmk sha wujing #lmk the brotherhood #lmk azure lion #pregnancy mention tw #lmk aus #lmk #lego monkie kid

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