#and I lack any kind of cold resistance | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

fangdokja · 15 days ago

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You’re the light he vowed to keep, even if he has to snuff it out first.

❤︎ Synopsis. You’re trapped in the suffocating grip of a man who loves you just enough to destroy you—until you’re nothing but his broken, devoted possession. A love that feels more like a curse than a choice.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Pro Hero! Katsuki x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Pro Hero! Shouto x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Villain! Deku x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Dabi x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. Ruined, Owned, Loved. - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 3,897

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non con, possessiveness, psychological manipulation and conditioning, suggestive themes, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, hints at rough play and sex, psychological and emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non con kissing and touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, mature language, degradation, verbal abuse, kidnapping

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.

♡ Pro Hero! Bakugo Katsuki.

You knew better than to try running. The moment you felt his presence—a simmering furnace of fury and control—it was already too late. He didn’t announce his arrival with words; his footsteps were enough, sharp and deliberate, heavy boots hitting the floor like a countdown to something inevitable. Bakugo’s voice was never soft; it was a serrated edge, ripping through the air as if he had a right to every breath you took. And when he spoke, it wasn’t a question.

“Thought you could get away, huh?” His laugh was cruel, low, and full of condescension. “You’re dumber than I thought. But that’s fine. I like you stupid. Makes you easier to handle.”

His hands were everywhere—calloused, hot, burning like the aftermath of an explosion. You hated how they felt on your skin, hated the way your body betrayed you, trembling when he pressed you against the cold, unyielding surface of the wall. He’d whisper things in your ear, not because he cared, but because he wanted to hear you choke on your protests. He fed on resistance. It made him more determined, more ruthless, as if he needed to prove a point.

“You think anyone else could handle you? Take care of you? Fucking useless brat. I’m the only one who knows what you need.”

There was no romance in his touch, only dominance, a need to mark, to conquer. His lips were blistering against your neck, leaving bruises that would bloom dark and ugly—a reminder of his claim. He reveled in the small, broken noises you made, each gasp a sign of his victory. To Bakugo, love wasn’t soft. It was brutal, raw, and destructive. And you were the perfect canvas for his fire.

———

Bakugo Katsuki was never the kind of man to hold back. Even now, with the faint scent of charred air clinging to him and his gaze sharp enough to carve through steel, restraint was a foreign concept. He didn’t need to be gentle, didn’t care for the nuances of tenderness or quiet affection. His love was a volatile thing, violent and consuming, a wildfire that left nothing untouched. And you, unfortunate as you were, had become the fuel to his blaze.

“You don’t get it, do you?” His voice was a low growl, the kind that sent shivers down your spine for all the wrong reasons. He leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear, each word deliberate, dripping with venomous intent. “You’re mine. Every single part of you. That fucked-up little brain, those stupid tears, even the way you fucking breathe—you don’t get to decide any of it anymore. I do.”

His hands were unforgiving, each touch an assertion of control, as though he was daring your body to defy him. He wasn’t satisfied with merely holding you. He needed to own you, to etch himself into your very marrow, to ensure that every fleeting thought you had began and ended with him. Calloused fingers dug into your flesh, searing heat radiating off his palms like the embers of a smoldering fire. His grip wasn’t just tight—it was possessive, like he was claiming his place under your skin, branding you without the need for flames.

“You’re so fucking fragile,” he sneered, his lips curling into a smirk that held no kindness. “Can’t even put up a proper fight. What would you even do without me? Huh?”

There was something almost mocking in the way he spoke, but beneath it lay a darker truth: Bakugo didn’t just want you compliant—he wanted you broken, a hollowed-out shell with only his name to fill the emptiness. He thrived on the power he held over you, the way your trembling body responded to him no matter how much your mind screamed otherwise.

His kisses weren’t tender. They were bruising, feral, the kind that left you breathless for all the wrong reasons. Teeth scraped against your skin, leaving faint indentations that would fade just enough for him to replace them. His mouth trailed lower, each bite deliberate, as though he were carving himself into you with the edge of his teeth.

“Don’t bother crying,” he hissed, his voice sharp enough to draw blood. “Won’t do you any good. Just makes me want to ruin you more.”

There was no hesitation in his movements, no room for uncertainty. Bakugo wasn’t a man who second-guessed himself, especially not when it came to you. Every touch, every whispered insult, every moment was carefully calculated, designed to tear you apart and rebuild you in his image. To him, love was destruction, and the thought of anyone else laying claim to you was enough to send his temper spiraling out of control.

“If anyone even looks at you wrong, I’ll blow them to pieces,” he said, his tone deadly serious. “And you’ll watch. You’ll see exactly what happens when someone tries to take what’s mine.”

The threat wasn’t empty. You knew Bakugo meant every word, his rage barely contained, simmering beneath the surface like magma waiting to erupt. And yet, there was something disturbingly intimate in the way he held you, his grip firm but steady, as though he believed he was the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.

“You’ll thank me one day,” he muttered, his voice softer now but no less menacing. “You’ll see that I’m the only one who gives a damn about you. The only one who’s willing to do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”

His idea of safety was suffocating, a cage made of fire and ash, but there was no escaping it. Bakugo Katsuki wasn’t a man who let go—not when he’d already decided that you were his, body and soul. And he’d make sure you understood that, even if it meant breaking you into pieces and putting you back together again, over and over, until the only thing you recognized was him.

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♡ Pro Hero! Todoroki Shouto.

Shouto was a contradiction: ice and fire, tenderness and cruelty. When he stared at you, it wasn’t with love but with obsession, the kind that stripped you bare and left you exposed under his cold, calculating gaze. He was too quiet, his presence unnerving, his dual-colored eyes a predator’s trap. There was something unnervingly patient about him, as though he had all the time in the world to break you.

“You look so scared,” he murmured, voice soft enough to make your blood run cold. “But you don’t have to be. I’ll take care of you.”

His fingers were gloved, precise, as if he didn’t want to dirty himself with you. But when he touched you, it was deliberate, calculated, his hands mapping every inch of your body with clinical detachment. It wasn’t passion that drove him—it was control, the need to see you submit, to strip you of your autonomy until you were nothing but a doll for him to play with.

“You’re mine,” he said, his tone flat, matter-of-fact. “You’ll understand that soon enough.”

Shouto’s cruelty was subtle, wrapped in a veneer of kindness that made you second-guess your fear. But it was there, lurking beneath the surface, a monster waiting to strike. He didn’t raise his voice; he didn’t need to. His presence alone was enough to suffocate you. When he leaned in, his breath cold against your skin, you knew there was no escape.

———

Shouto Todoroki was meticulous in everything he did, and when it came to you, that precision was unnervingly intimate. He didn’t rush, didn’t let his emotions spill out in reckless waves like others might. No, Shouto was a slow, deliberate storm, his control more terrifying than any outburst could ever be. He didn’t need to shout or rage; his silence was its own weapon, slicing through you with a cold, surgical exactness that left no room for resistance.

“Do you hate me?” he asked once, his voice a quiet hum of curiosity. His mismatched eyes searched yours, not for an answer, but for the flicker of defiance he knew wouldn’t last. “It doesn’t matter. Hate me if you like. It changes nothing.”

His touch was clinical at first, his gloved fingers tracing your skin as though he were studying the way you flinched beneath him. It wasn’t lust that drove him, nor even anger—it was obsession, a need so deeply rooted it had consumed every rational part of him. Shouto didn’t see you as a person anymore, not entirely. You were a puzzle, a possession, something delicate and fragile that belonged to him alone.

“I’ll keep you safe,” he murmured, his voice soothing despite the steel underneath. “Even if it means protecting you from yourself.”

There was a chilling detachment in the way he said it, as though your autonomy was a trivial obstacle he’d long since dismissed. Shouto wasn’t cruel for the sake of it; every act, every word, was deliberate, calculated to strip you of your defenses. He wanted you pliant, dependent, so deeply intertwined with him that the thought of leaving felt like an impossibility.

When he kissed you, it was neither tender nor rushed. His lips were cold, an eerie contrast to the heat that followed, a slow burn that made your skin prickle and your heart race. He took his time, savoring the way you trembled under his touch, the way your breath hitched when his hand slid to the nape of your neck. Shouto didn’t rush his conquest. He was patient, methodical, the predator who knew his prey had nowhere to run.

“You’re so warm,” he said, almost to himself, as his fingers traced idle patterns across your skin. “It’s comforting. I think I’d destroy anyone who tried to take this from me.”

His dual nature made him unpredictable, a constant tightrope between icy detachment and blistering intensity. There were moments when he’d cradle your face in his hands, his expression almost tender, as though he were something close to human. But even then, his words betrayed him.

“You can cry if you want,” he said, his tone soft, almost gentle. “I don’t mind. It only makes you prettier.”

He didn’t see your fear as an obstacle—it was part of the process, a necessary step in molding you into what he wanted. Your tears were proof of his power, a testament to the control he wielded with such terrifying ease. And when his hands roamed, when his lips found the sensitive curve of your neck, there was no escaping the suffocating weight of his presence.

Shouto’s love wasn’t fiery or wild; it was smothering, a glacier slowly encasing you until you couldn’t breathe without him. His cruelty was subtle, woven into the fabric of his obsession, a constant reminder that you were his and his alone.

“You’ll see,” he whispered, his breath a cold ghost against your ear. “This is what’s best for you. You’ll understand eventually. You’ll thank me.”

He didn’t rush to break you; he savored it, each crack in your defenses another victory in his quiet, relentless campaign. To Shouto, love was control, possession, and the quiet certainty that you would never, ever belong to anyone else.

And he would make sure of that, no matter what it took.

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♡ Villain! Midoriya Izuku (Deku).

There was nothing left of the boy you once knew. His smile, once kind and genuine, was now twisted, a mockery of the hero he pretended to be. Midoriya was no longer a savior—he was a predator, and you were his prey. He didn’t hide his intentions, didn’t bother with pretenses.

“You’re so perfect,” he whispered, his voice dripping with adoration that felt more like a curse. “I’ve been watching you for so long. You have no idea how much I’ve done for you, how many people I’ve destroyed just to keep you safe.”

His hands were trembling, not with nerves but with excitement, the kind that came from finally obtaining something he’d coveted for so long. When he touched you, it was with reverence, as if you were a sacred object meant only for him. But there was nothing holy about the way he looked at you, his green eyes dark with hunger, his grin wide and unsettling.

“You’re scared,” he noted, almost amused. “That’s okay. You’ll learn to love me. You don’t have a choice.”

His kisses were rough, desperate, as if he needed to consume you, to devour every piece of you until there was nothing left. He didn’t care if you cried, didn’t care if you begged. In fact, he liked it. Your tears were proof of his power, of the hold he had over you.

———

Midoriya Izuku had always been obsessive, but the way his fixation on you consumed him was nothing short of monstrous. He no longer sought to save the world; no, his only goal was to possess you entirely, to twist you into something that could never leave him. And he’d succeeded, hadn’t he? You were here, trapped under the weight of his adoration, his hands gripping you with a strength that bordered on desperation.

“Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?” His voice was breathless, his green eyes wide and wild as they roved over you. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “You were always meant to be mine. Every step I’ve taken, every choice I’ve made—it was all for you.”

There was something unhinged in his tone, a mixture of awe and madness that made your stomach churn. He didn’t see you as a person anymore. You were his salvation, his obsession, the only thing that mattered in his twisted, crumbling world. And he would do anything to keep you by his side.

“I’m not a bad person,” he murmured, his fingers trailing down your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Everything I’ve done—it was for us. They tried to take you from me, tried to ruin what we have, but I stopped them. I’ll always stop them.”

His hands were steady now, his grip firm as he held you in place. There was no escape, no room for resistance. Izuku didn’t need chains to bind you; his sheer presence was enough to suffocate you, to remind you that you were entirely at his mercy.

“You think I don’t notice?” he asked, his grin widening as his gaze bore into yours. “The way you look at me, the way your body reacts even when you’re scared. It’s okay to feel that way. I want you to feel that way. I want every part of you—your fear, your tears, your love. It’s all mine.”

When he kissed you, it wasn’t tender. It was bruising, all-consuming, a chaotic clash of teeth and tongues that left you gasping for air. His hands wandered, exploring with a fervor that bordered on worship. He treated your body like a shrine, something to be revered and defiled in equal measure.

“You’re trembling,” he noted, his voice soft but laced with dark amusement. “Don’t worry, it’s normal. You’re overwhelmed, but that’s how it should be. I want to overwhelm you. I want to be the only thing you think about, the only thing you need.”

Izuku’s affection was a double-edged sword, as sharp as it was suffocating. He spoke to you as if he were a hero, as if he truly believed that his actions were justified, that his love for you made the horrors he committed excusable. But his gaze, dark and hungry, betrayed the truth. He wasn’t protecting you—he was consuming you, piece by piece, until there was nothing left of the person you once were.

“Every scar, every bruise—it’s proof that you’re mine,” he said, his fingers tracing the marks he’d left behind. “Don’t be ashamed of them. Wear them with pride. They mean I love you.”

There was no arguing with him, no reasoning with the man who had long since abandoned morality in favor of his obsession. Izuku didn’t see his actions as cruel; he saw them as necessary. To him, you were the center of the universe, and he would destroy anyone who dared to challenge his claim on you.

“Don’t cry,” he whispered, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek. “I hate seeing you upset. But if it’s for me, then… maybe it’s okay. Just this once.”

His smile was soft, almost tender, but there was no comfort in it. It was the smile of a man who had nothing left to lose, a man who had decided that you were his salvation and his damnation all at once. And no matter how much you struggled, no matter how much you begged, Izuku wouldn’t let you go. He couldn’t.

“You’re mine,” he said again, his voice steady, unwavering. “You’ve always been mine. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep it that way.”

To him, love wasn’t about freedom or choice. It was possession, control, the unrelenting certainty that you would never belong to anyone else. And as his hands tightened around you, his lips ghosting over your skin, you realized that there was no escape from the man who had turned his obsession into a twisted form of devotion.

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♡ Dabi (Todoroki Touya).

Dabi was a shadow, a ghost who lingered just out of reach until it was too late. His presence was suffocating, a combination of smoke and ash that clung to your skin like a brand. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

“You didn’t think you could actually hide from me, girl?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, filled with a dark amusement that made your stomach turn. “I’m not some fool who’s gonna let you slip through my fingers.”

His touch was rough, his hands scarred and burned, but he didn’t care if it hurt. In fact, he liked it, liked the way you flinched under his grip, the way your breath hitched when he leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear.

“You look so pretty when you’re scared,” he murmured, his tone almost tender. “Makes me wanna ravage you even more.”

Dabi wasn’t gentle. He didn’t know how to be. His kisses were bruising, his teeth sharp against your skin, leaving marks that would take weeks to fade. He was possessive, his grip unyielding as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he let go. But there was a sadness in his eyes, a flicker of something broken and desperate that only made him more dangerous.

“You’re mine now,” he said, his voice steady, final. “And I don’t share.”

For Dabi, love was destruction.

And you were his favorite thing to destroy.

———

Dabi’s love was a slow burn, a smoldering fire that crept closer with every passing moment, until it devoured you whole. He didn’t rush, didn’t bother with theatrics. When he claimed you, it was with the inevitability of something that had been decided long before you had a chance to resist.

“You didn’t stand a chance,” he said, his voice a husky drawl that carried the weight of certainty. His blue eyes, bright and unrelenting, bore into yours with a heat that scorched you from the inside out. “You’ve always been mine since the moment I saw you. You just didn’t know it yet.”

His touch was calloused, rough from years of self-destruction, and when his hands gripped your wrists, the heat of his skin was a cruel reminder of his power. Dabi didn’t just want you—he wanted to consume you, to make you feel every ounce of his presence until you couldn’t think of anything else. His fingers left marks wherever they roamed, bruises that burned as if his flames had kissed you directly.

“You feel that?” he murmured, his breath warm against your neck as his rough lips ghosted over your skin. “That’s me. Burning into you. Marking you. You’ll never get rid of it. Never get rid of me.”

There was a possessiveness in his every movement, a desperate hunger that bordered on madness. He didn’t want your love—he demanded it, took it without permission, leaving no room for hesitation or doubt. His kisses were rough, searing, his teeth dragging against your lips as if he wanted to taste the fear that lingered there.

“I could burn this whole fucking world down,” he said, his voice low and dangerous, his grip tightening as his flames flickered to life. “But you? You’re the only thing I’d keep. The only thing worth saving.”

But his version of saving was suffocating, a cage built of fire and smoke that left no escape. Dabi wasn’t gentle, wasn’t kind. His love was destruction, raw and unfiltered, the kind that left you trembling beneath the weight of it. He didn’t care if you cried, if you begged for release. In fact, he thrived on it, the broken sound of your voice feeding the darkness that consumed him.

“Don’t cry, doll,” he said, his tone mockingly sweet as he wiped a tear from your cheek with his thumb. The heat of his touch lingered, a cruel reminder of the flames that simmered just beneath his skin. “You’re too pretty for that. Besides, it’s not like you can run. Where the hell would you go?

Dabi’s obsession was a monster in itself, a hungry, clawing thing that refused to let him rest. He needed you in a way that was almost pathetic, a desperate craving that he buried under layers of cruelty and bravado. But it slipped through the cracks sometimes, in the way his voice softened when he whispered your name, in the way his hands trembled just slightly when they traced the curve of your neck.

“You make me weak, you know that?” he confessed, his laugh a bitter, shattered thing as his grip on you tightened. “And I hate it. But I can’t stop. You’re in my head, under my skin. You’ve ruined me, so it’s only fair I ruin you too.”

To Dabi, love wasn’t about tenderness or trust. It was about control, possession, the unrelenting need to keep you by his side, no matter the cost. He didn’t see his actions as cruel—they were necessary, a means to an end. And if he had to break you to keep you, then so be it.

“You’ll get used to it,” he said, his grin sharp and dangerous as his lips brushed against yours. “This is how it’s gonna be. You and me, forever. You don’t get a say in it. You never did.”

There was no escape from him, no reprieve from the intensity of his obsession. Dabi wasn’t just a villain—he was a force of nature, an inferno that consumed everything in its path.

And you were his favorite thing to burn.

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yutarot · 2 months ago

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the forbidden fruit. — req by anon

genre: vampire!jaehyun x reader

warnings: mentions of death

wc: 2.7k

notes; i enjoyed writing this so much, thank u for the request!!

synopsis: your quiet life shatters the night you meet jaehyun—a dark, mysterious stranger who emerges only at dusk. you’re drawn to the intrigue of his haunted character, unaware he’s a centuries-old vampire, burdened by a past he longs to escape. though he tries to keep his distance, jaehyun can’t resist the warmth he finds in you. just as your connection deepens, a even darker rival appears, threatening to reveal jaehyun’s secret and tear you apart. now, you must decide: confront the darkness surrounding you both or risk losing a love that transcends life and death.

you never knew why, but he has always intrigued you. having recently moved back to your hometown to look after your late grandmother’s bookshop, you spend each day stacking books and listening to the crackling wire of her old radio. the weather always seemed to be an abundance of mist, the town nestled between dark forests and ancient mountains. but you never thought you would find love here, especially not with the mysterious, reserved, and almost cold man who lurked between the bookshelves every day before you closed.

at first, it didn’t bother you; you get regulars all the time. but there was something about his quiet intensity, always finding him lurking in the shadows, emerging only when the sun dipped below the horizon. it was strangely magnetic.

so that leads you to now, having to close the store early in order to accommodate some of your grandmother’s old friends. somehow lacking any kind of fear, you walk through the shelves in search of any lingering customers.

that’s where you find him, brooding yet strikingly handsome, holding a copy of twilight in his left hand, gently flicking through the pages with his right. almost immediately, he senses your presence. but he doesn’t look up, instead keeping his eyes trained on the page as he speaks to you.

“you know, i’ve always wondered what the apple on the cover represents,” he says, his voice shockingly gentle. “some say it shows their forbidden love, like the apple from genesis, morally wrong yet intriguingly good.” he puts down the book, slowly lifting his eyes to you. “but i think it’s more than that. i think it shows edward’s desire, his temptation,” he walks towards you, slowly, “his want.”

he stops in front of you, looking down at your expression of confusion.

“what about you? what do you think it shows?”

you’re quiet for a moment. “i think that edward is the forbidden fruit. he’s the bad decision she makes, he’s the sin.”

he smiles at your answer. “i’ve never looked at it that way before.”

gaining confidence, you reply. “meyer quoted genesis in the beginning of the book, but i don’t think it’s the romance that was forbidden. it was him.”

“you really know your stuff,” he replies.

“you’ve read all the books in here?” you say jokingly, but his answer catches you by surprise.

“just about.”

“what?” you laugh, “that would take, like, centuries.”

his eyes darken, jaw clenching. “something like that.”

you didn’t see him for a few weeks after that. he had vanished, completely and utterly removed from your life but, never, from your mind.

he was all you could think about. every passing day you searched for him between the darkness of the bookshelves, his dark hair, his tall frame, but you never found him.

that was until the day you decided to leave the bookshop. you don’t usually leave to go on walks, but amidst the autumn breeze, you needed a break from the essence of old paper and ink.

the leaves crunching beneath your feet and the frost nibbling at your cheeks, you find comfort in the environment around you. it was dusk, your favorite grey color of the sky setting a backdrop for the orange hue of the trees. walking past a frozen lake, you take in the sights, scanning your eyes around to take it all in.

suddenly, you feel a chill arise along your skin.

you aren’t alone.

you turn frantically, feeling the presence of someone moving around you, but your movements quickly betray you as you stumble on your feet, falling backward.

processing what just happened, you stay seated, the urge to get up and leave mysteriously absent.

something—someone—is making you stay.

and that becomes immediately clear the moment you hear his voice.

“yn ln.” it’s the man from the bookshop.

you’re taken aback. “how do you know my name?”

“i’m not stupid.”

“what?”

“you were watching me in that bookstore, ever since the first day i visited, and now your heart aches at my absence. do you wish to explain?”

your heart races as you watch his jaw clench. explain? your mind whirs in circles. in all honesty, you have no idea.

but he’s right. your heart does ache.

he continues, “i was away.” he offers his hand to help you up. “on a trip.” you take his hand.

immediately, the chill you felt before returns. his hand is cold, lacking all and any warmth. it was as if he were sucked dry of life, completely and utterly soulless.

you gain balance on your feet before you speak up.

“who are you?”

that singular question seems to dull his senses, the smile on his face wiped clean.

“who am i?” he repeats, eyes darkening like they did in the bookshop. he thinks for a moment before continuing, “walk with me.”

and so you do. you walk with him. stride after stride, he tells you about his life, about growing up in the neighboring town, about his mother who passed giving birth to him, and about his friends back in his hometown. you listen, not only to his stories but to his voice. it’s soothing, gentle, and something tells you that you’ll wish to hear more of it. but you notice there are important details missing; there’s something he’s not telling you.

when you both reach your bookstore again, he halts, signaling he’s dropping you off.

you walk to the door, but remembering your heartache at his former absence, you call out to him.

“when will i see you again… uh…” you pause, his name unknown to you.

“jaehyun.” he smiles, “and you will see me when you need me. it only takes patience, love.”

with that, you smile back, turning to put the key in the lock. but when you turn back to wave him goodbye, he’s gone, the place where he stood now only a puddle of brown leaves, encased in frost and the scent of the tall, dark stranger you now know as jaehyun.

in the weeks that followed, you saw him more frequently. each time he came into the bookshop, you would pass him a smile, and he would sit, engrossed in the worlds of the books he’s reading. each day you would talk about your shared interests, and each day your curiosity grew. you wanted to know everything about this man. it wasn’t just his looks that intrigued you; there was something aurally magnetic about him. the way he looked at you, like you were something he couldn’t have but desperately wanted. you wished to uncover why.

he had just picked up an edition of crime and punishment by dostoevsky when you come over to him, a warm mug of tea in your hands.

“i brought you this; you must be cold.”

he looks between the tea and you, a polite refusal in his eyes.

“…or not.”

he chuckles at your ability to read him. no one else has ever been able to do that to him. no one, until he met you.

jaehyun doesn’t come back for the books; he’s read every book in this little town bookstore. yet, each night, he finds himself at the front door, hoping for a chance to see you.

he doesn’t want to see you, he doesn’t want to talk to you.

but he needs it.

he folds the book over in one hand, leaning back in the soft, green velvet armchair you’ve placed in the corner of the bookshop.

he speaks, surprising you again with the softness of his voice. “i think it’s interesting.”

your brow twists in confusion before he continues.

“raskolnikov seems alienated from society, no matter what he does or how he does it.”

you listen intently.

“yes, he’s a murderer. but even before then, it was always his pride that separated him. it’s fascinating.”

“you enjoy literature a lot, don’t you?” you say.

he laughs. “a little. why else do you think i’m in here so often?”

a secret part of you was hoping for another reason for him to be here. but your mind was its own fantasy, unrealistic and yet completely tempting.

“you’re different from all the rest of my customers,” you reply.

this makes jaehyun’s face contort into an expression you’ve never seen him wear before: hope.

“how so?”

“i’m not entirely sure.”

your breath catches, caged by the fear of him suspecting the feelings that linger. but it’s almost as if he can hear your heart, beating in your chest. because you’re sure that he knows.

your conversation is abruptly interrupted when you hear the bell to the bookstore door ring, signaling that you’ve got a new customer.

“i should probably go and… yeah… enjoy the book!” you say to jaehyun, who laughs at the way you so easily panic over the tiniest situations. from an outsider, it would seem that someone had walked in with the intention of blowing the place up with the way that you reacted.

as you turn the corner to approach the customer, the chilling feeling you felt at the lake begins to fade into you. it makes you wonder if you were wrong about it, presuming it was just something you felt around jaehyun, but it made no sense. you’re walking away from him.

interrupted again from your thoughts, you arrive at the door, the customers back to you.

you reach up to tap him on the shoulder.

“hello, how can i hel-“

his hand covers your mouth.

“save the talking for when you need it.” the stranger whispers, as you push his hand away.

that was rude, you think to yourself.

the stranger continues. “im looking for… something.”

“what is it? maybe i can help you? it is my store..”

“hmmm. it’s about 300 years old, pretty.. local..”

you furrow your brows. 300 years?

“well, sir that could be anything. gullivers travels, candide, paradise lost?”

his eyes glimmer with amusement. “no, no, none of those. i’ll just have a look around myself.”

confused but albeit very annoyed by the man’s lack of respect, you allow him to look for himself. and you find yourself on your way back to where jaehyun is sitting.

only when you get there.

jaehyun is gone.

but the book remains on the green velvet armchair, open on its final page. you read the words in which had been underlined.

‘They wanted to speak, but could not; tears stood in their eyes. They were both pale and thin; but those sick pale faces were bright with the dawn of a new future, of a full resurrection into a new life. They were renewed by love; the heart of each held infinite sources of life for the heart of the other.’

you threw the book back down, the final sentence echoing over and over in your mind.

your heartache, his cold demeanour. it was as if you both needed each-other for the simple aspect of life.

startling you, you hear a bang across the other side of the bookshop.

you turn on your heel, pushing the thought of jaehyun to the back of your mind as you waver your way through the shelves. but your attempt to disregard your thoughts of him is soon in vain as you find him, holding the stranger by his collar against the shelf. jaehyuns eyes are the darkest you’ve ever seen them, his skin the palest it’s ever been. and his teeth.

you gasp to yourself, clutching your chest and trying to hold yourself up against the bookshelf.

you don’t recognise him, but he looks more like himself than he ever has.

his head turns in your direction and immediately his visage returns to normal, the stranger he’s holding removing jaehyuns grasp on him, chuckling to himself with a smirk.

your mind is spinning.

“so this is why you haven’t come home.” the stranger says to jaehyun.

his words from before come back to you. ‘hmmm. it’s about 300 years old, pretty.. local..’

he wasn’t talking about a book. he was talking about jaehyun.

you have nothing to say, nothing to feel or even think.

but the unease you felt about him before, seemingly has vanished.

everything you had been questioning. everything you were unsure of, has been answered.

the stranger continues, “i knew there was a reason. but i never would have suspected this.”

jaehyuns fists clench, knowing he can’t do anything with you here.

“your choice.” the stranger says to jaehyun before turning to you. “and by the way, pretty, im jungwoo.” he winks, before walking out the door and vanishing soon after.

you stay completely, and utterly still. jaehyuns eyes are only on you. he can’t tell what your thinking and it drives him utterly insane.

“are you okay?” he asks, stepping closer to you.

you should flinch, you should tell him to get out.

but you can’t.

you nod, slowly and indefinitely.

“i didn’t want this to happen,” he says, walking closer, slowly as to not scare you, “but you..”

you look up at him.

jaehyun holds a hand out to push a strand of hair from your face, gently. “you’ve done something to me.”

your eyes widen. but you can’t help but nod, a silent yet powerful indication of the way your feeling. but you know now that he can hear your heart, he can hear the reaction he has on you. he knows it’s not fear. it’s love.

he looks between both of your eyes, soaking in the feeling of being able to breathe in the same air as you. his hand finds your cheek and he leans down, everything is so slow, so gentle.

but before his lips could find yours. he stops himself, his brows crunching as if he’s in pain, hurt by having to let you go like this.

your eyes are full of questions. “why did you-“

“i can’t.” he says, sternly. “i can’t kiss you.”

“why not?”

his jaw clenches, his hand remaining softly on your face.

“i have a choice to make. this only makes that so much harder.”

“what choice?”

he gulps. you’ve never seen him nervous.

“either, i return to my family.” his hand brushes through your hair, reluctantly, and he pulls it away just as he states his next words. “or he tells my father.”

“what will happen if he told your father?”

he looks down, pain on his features.

“he’ll kill you.”

that’s when you realise. the forbidden fruit. it’s what he feels for you, what you feel for him, thats the sin.

‘but of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, thou shalt not eat of it: for in the day that thou eatest thereof thou shall surely die.’

he disappears, vanishes into nothing, as you stand, warmth returning to the air around you.

you let him go.

the next few weeks are tiresome. he hasn’t left your mind, and you haven’t left his. pain envelopes you everytime you think of him, soaring through your memories like dust in a cloud of wind.

in attempts to clear your head, you decide to take a walk again. the fog is heavier this evening, weaving through the trees and laying around the lake as if it were a blanket, soft and comforting.

you listen to the birds, melancholically singing away at eachother. but it only reminds you of your loneliness.

you long for him, mind and soul.

riddled by the effects of the winter air, the breeze makes you shiver. but when the cold doesn’t let up, the feeling oddly familiar, you turn.

there he is. standing before you, a tormented expression of a tortured soul, resting on his features.

this time, you walk to him. this time, you’re completely certain.

you stand before him.

“id rather die in the arms of certainty than to live without a chance.” you breathe, watching him intently.

but he only smiles, searching in your eyes. and at last, he presses his lips to yours.

he’s soft, yet firm.

he shouldn’t want you, he shouldn’t need you. but he does.

for if you died, it would be for this moment.

‘even more, i had never meant to love him. one thing i truly knew–knew it in the pit of my stomach, in the center of my bones, knew it from the crown of my head to the soles of my feet, knew it deep in my empty chest–was how love gave someone the power to break you.’ — stephenie meyer, twilight.

#nct #nct 127 #nct fanfic #jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jeong jaehyun #jaehyun fanfic #angst #jaehyun angst #nct angst #vampire au

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sftykth · 8 months ago

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milk and cookies ⟢ anakin skywalker ii.

banner made by me!

╭ summary: your doll like face will be the end of anakin skywalker he was sure of it. however he must stay away from his disturbing thoughts as he was only your sugar daddy, and you two had agreed on a deal, no physical contact. Though for how long can you both resist the temptation?

╭ pairing: y/n x anakin skywalker

╭ genre: college au!, gap age (y/n is 20, anakin is 42), sugar daddy

╭ a/n: here’s part two of the series:) let me know what you think! any ideas of what you may wanna see, my requests are always open:)

part i

You huffed at the lack of notifications on your phone.

It has been officially two weeks since the last time you had spoken to Mr Skywalker. There was no messages, no calls, absolutely nothing. Your tendencies to please people made you overthink the worst, did he not like you? Were you not pretty enough for him. Shaking your head, you knew that could not have been the case. Though you could not shake the uneasy feeling in the pit of your stomach. You debated if you should reach out first, it was a Friday night and you were incredibly bored.

Reaching for your phone, you chewed on your lip as your fingers hovered over the keyboard. Thoughts racing your head, thinking of what you could say to him. Keeping it simple and short would be best, you thought.

May 2024

[Dollface] hey how are you?

[Sky] Hello, dollface. I'm alright why are you texting me this late at night. No plans for the youngsters hm?

[Dollface] uhh nopee. i wanted to ask you something..

[Sky] Go on. Don't be shy now.

[Dollface] um well you hadn't messaged me at all, did you decide i wasn't up for the role or something..

You slightly cringed at your desperation, but something about him just made you so needy for his attention. You wanted it, no you needed it.

[Sky] I do remember we both agreed to the deal, no?

[Dollface] well yeah.. but its been two weeks i just thought

[Sky] There has been no reason for me to do so. My next event is not until next Saturday which I will send more details over near the date.

[Dollface] oh i see yeah that makes sense haha sorry i will leave you be now.

[Read]

You felt something wet hit your cheek, you didn't even realize you were crying. The cold attitude was something you didn't expect to receive, though you should have knew better. You were always so senstive to people's feelings towards you, always wanting them to like you, doing anything in your power to please them.

Wiping the tears that had managed to escape, you threw your phone to side as you laid down on your bed. You didn't understand him, some moments he seemed to be kind and then other times he seemed so harsh and cold. You wrapped your arms around you, craving warmth as you mind couldn't stop creating thoughts upon thoughts of why he was so mean. Falling asleep that night was near impossible.

One week had passed since you reached out to Mr Skywalker, or your sugar daddy you could say. It felt like a painfully slow week, barely managing to attend your classes not really having much motivation. The nerves on attending the event had kept you up most nights, wondering how will it plan out. Your head perked up at the ding coming from your phone, rushing to your desk you saw the name which made you feel so many emotions at once.

[Sky] Good evening, Dollface. I hope I'm not interrupting you, I just wanted to let you know the details of the event tomorrow.

[Dollface] hey! no no i wasn't doing much. and yes of course

[Sky] Good. Luckily, the event is a local one so travel will not be far. We are promoting a new product so many important figures will be there, so formal outwear is a must for this case. Most importantly, do not be late.

[Dollface] yes i understand Mr Skywalker, what is the address of this place?

[Sky] No need. My driver and I will pick you up at eight o'clock sharp.

A relieved sigh left my lips, having some form of knowledge on the event slightly eased my nerves or perhaps it was the fact I got to speak to him. You shake your head, you shouldn't be feeling this way towards a man who only is there to pay you essentially.

Now you had a major task up your sleeve, try and find something fancy enough. Oh God. You thought, this is going to be difficult seen as your wardrobe was made up of tiny skirts and dresses. You had always preferred clothes that revealed your figure, not really finding the problem in lengths. Though you were determined not to disappoint the man, and rushed to find something that will be acceptable enough.

Twenty minutes. That is how long you had before Mr Skywalker picks you up. You had managed to find a dress that you had long tucked away, a dress you mother had gifted you on your eighteen birthday, saying how you were finally a lady and should dress like one. You remember rolling your eyes at her, never understanding why she found your style to be such a big deal.

Glancing up at the mirror, a big smile crossed your face. The long black gown hugged your figure in every right place, a flower pattern embroidered in the material, paired with some black heels. It was quite see through which did cause a slight doubt in your head but you pushed it away, it surely wouldn't be that much of a problem. Typically, you would have your hair straightened but for tonight you had put it in nice curls, your make up enhancing your docile features even more.

You could only hope he also thought you looked pretty. Cursing yourself for once again thinking about him so much but at this point you could not stop your little mind.

A knock was heard from the downstairs, it must be him. You quickly rushed downstairs, not faring to be a second late. Opening the door it felt like your breath was knocked out of you. There he stood towering over you, his dark blonde curls perfectly styled. A giddy feeling had crept in at the fact you were unintentionally matching, him in a full black suit.

He raised his eyebrow once his eyes had landed on you. Giving you a look over, "You look different." Was all he said before turning around and walking to the car parked in front of us. Your lip quivered, what did he even mean by that. Glancing down at yourself, you thought you looked pretty okay, yes it was very far from your usual style. Approaching the car you tried your hardest not to let out a sob, you didn't want to cry in front of him, he wouldn't understand your sensitive side, you thought.

The atmosphere inside the car was thick, you tightened your arms around yourself. Not a single word had been spoken between you, you felt so uncomfortable. So much so you almost were tempted to stop the car and run as far away from him as possible.

A shake to your shoulder made you jump from your thoughts, arrived already? "We are here. Now remember we are here as a couple so try to be on your best behavior." he says before leaving the car. Getting out the car the slight breeze hit your legs, you should have brought a jacket with you.

You felt someones hand touch yours, you jolted at the touch as you saw he had intertwined your hands together. Your doe like eyes peered up at him, forgetting for a minute at the reason behind such intimate action. He only gave you a tight smile before leading the way towards the building, you could only hope your poor heart won't give up on you.

Entering the massive hall you were surrounded by what you could only assume other rich people. Instantly, a lady had come offering drinks you both had declined her. You were not prepared to get drunk in front of all these people, knowing your self your ass would act out. You were a very emotional drunk.

"Here comes Mr Windu, he is my main opponent at the minute. Always challenging my role, that idiot.." he rambled on, you listened quietly finding it slightly cute at the tiny frown that appeared on his face.

"Just don't say anything got it." you nodded in response, you were unsure what type of man Mr Windu was, you had heard of his role in the state wanting to take Mr Skywalker's position from what you heard on the radio.

"Well well, what do we have here. Mr Skywalker it is a pleasure to see you. Have come all prepared as per usual." the older man grinned as his eyes never left Mr Skywalkers's. You gulped at the intense eye contact between the two. Only for Windu's eyes to glance down at me, your eyes widened like a deer caught in headlights.

His dark eyes looked you up and down, "Oh and what a delight do we have here. I don't think I have seen you here before. Last I seen it was the beautiful Mrs Amidala"

A twinge of pain crossed your chest for a second, you almost forgot about his wife, or ex wife you could say.

"There is no longer a Mrs, Mr windu. If you have forgotten I had divorced my wife long time ago" Mr Skywalker's voice was strained, you could tell he did not want to be speaking about his ex wife with the man right now.

"And this is my new Lady, if you could excuse us now," he tried to walk away but was stopped by the grip Windu had on my wrist,.

"Now now, there is no reason for such a rush leave. I only wanted to learn the name of this gorgeous being, Skywalker. Does she not speak for herself, hm." he questioned as his hold never left my wrist. You winced at the harsh hold, "It's Y/n" you whimpered in response.

Dropping your arm he smirked, "It was nice meeting you Y/n, and of course you too Mr Skywalker." Watching him walk away, a huge sigh left your body you didn't even realize you were holding your breath.

Turning your head sideways, Mr Skywalker was already staring at you. Blushing at the long stare he was giving you, you looked down at your shoes biting your lip. You felt a gentle tug at your chin, raising you to look at him. Glancing at his eyes, you could see concern?

"Are you alright dollface? He should not have dared to put his hands on you like that. No man should. Are you hurt?" his questions made your head dizzy. The unexpected concern for you made you feel something inside. Giving him a slight node, "I'm okay Mr Skywalker, thank you. I just didn't expect it is all."

"Please use Anakin, dollface. It is easier to say and I feel so old when people use my last name so often." he chuckled, reaching for your hand again he held tit so gently this time, giving it a small squeeze as he led the way towards the bar.

You couldn't help but grin at the affection he was suddenly giving you, the cold attitude from earlier fully wiped away. It almost gave you a whiplash. "Would you like something to drink, dollface?" he asked as he ordered himself a whiskey. "Maybe just a coke, please."

"Not a drinker huh?" he questioned, taking a seat to your left on the high stools. "Not really, I just hate how I get when I get drunk. So rather just not cause a scene." you gave him a nervous laugh, playing with the ends of your hair to distract yourself from the piercing eyes that belonged to such a handsome man.

"Oh? And what would that be, dollface?" he raised his eyebrow, eyes never leaving me. The use of the nickname made you gush inside, loving how it sounded coming from him. You debated whether you should answer him but the affections side he shown you made you feel comfortable enough for some reason.

"I-I just get very emotional.. I'm just sensitive when it comes to things I guess. Or well more so than others, my mother always told me I need to grow out of it. But that is the thing its just who I am. I can't change something like that" you rambled on, in that moment it felt almost right.

He hums, "You shouldn't feel like you need to change for anyone, dollface. I'm being serious you know, you need to embrace yourself for who you are whichever way that is." The way he spoke to you was so soft and nothing like before, you almost didn't recognize the man facing you.

"Thank you, Anakin I really do appreciate that." you gave him a big smile in return. His hand reached out and brushed a piece of hair from my face, tucking it behind your ear, you didn't even notice the gap that began to close as his face neared yours.

"Now what do we have here." A stern voice spoke out.

let me know what you guys think!:) and what you may wanna see in future series 👀 also let me know if you wanna be in the tag list!

tag list:

@cl0esblogg @spoolsofgreenspoolsofblack

#anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin fanfiction #star wars anakin #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagines #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker #darth vader #anakin skywalker fluff #anakin skywalker drabble #anakin skywalker masterlist #star wars

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duskier · 5 months ago

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cw objectum (Ghost is dating his rifle and fucks it like he means it!)

Idk about yall I kind of just love pathetic freak Ghost who doesn't care. I feel like he loves his service rifle, carved a name into the lower receiver and called her that name genuinely, like she were a person. (Also called her she, confusing everyone on base for a minute, thinking he somehow finally got a girlfriend.)

He cuddles it in his sleep. He gets used to having the cold, hard metal to wrap his arms around, pulling it against his body. Fingers listless as they dip into the magwell lazily, absently as he drifts off to sleep with his cheekbone against the business end of his dear rifle. It smells like dirt and lead and like home for Ghost, and he needs it to sleep.

When he wakes up in the morning, aching hard and groggy, who else could he trust? The steady, immortal predictability of the rifle's buttstock pressing almost insistently against his own length is too good to resist. So what if he holds the gun steady by the handguard and rocks himself up against it. Hard biting edges giving Ghost the barest amount of pain, sending sparks flying through his core.

It's only a problem when it becomes a habit. Ghost comes home from a long mission, pent up as all hell. Feels like he'll either die or his balls will just fall off from lack of use. It's got him irritable as it's all he can think about. Every little thing that keeps him from beelining to his room needs to be destroyed. He left his gear- including his precious rifle- in the storage room. Not even put away, just leaned against the wall, shoved out of the walkway.

Getting back to his private quarters and not even making it to his bed, just slamming his door locked and gripping his cock over his pants. The gear he could ignore, Ghost doesn't even stop to remove his gloves. Just tugs out his cock and starts frantically chasing that release he's been aching for, the one that has been eluding and tormenting him the entire time.

...But he couldn't reach that goal post. It had become too much of a habit, he couldn't feel the comfort of his bed beneath him nor smell the oil he used to clean his rifle. It's all a blur, then, a miracle he had enough sense to tuck his cock back away as he storms back across base.

If Ghost had been scary before, he was beyond even comprehension now. Angry dark aura infecting the corners of every room he stalked past. Stalking back through the halls with his rifle slung around his shoulders, the familiar weight grounding him just a little.

He beds her like he would any lover. pulling her against him after he's stripped all his clothes off. He wants to feel her against him entirely. Groaning open mouthed at the relief that floods him pressing up against her. He flexes his hips, pushing even just a bit harder. It hurts but she needs to know.

"Can you feel how much I missed ya?" Had Ghost had his wits about him, he might have felt embarrassed for how tender and domesticated he sounded- especially towards his damned gun. "Well I know you was there love, but couldn't hold ya in front o'the lads, not like this a'least. They wouldn't get you like I do."

Rocking up against her insistently. Some fingers gripping the handguard like it's a lifeline, others dancing down her lower and fiddling with her mag release button. The way Ghost is feeling entirely raptured against her form, falling into the heavy daze of lust.

Groaning like a wild animal in a rut, chasing the now swiftly approaching light at the end of the tunnel, Ghost’s tongue flicks out. Licks the sweet bitter rim of the muzzle break. The cold metal still has slag on it, a rough texture that delights his sensitive tongue. He laps at it like it's a hole he's opening for himself, savors the taste as his mind slips slowly further out of his skull. All that's left in him is a need, a hunger.

He scratches his cheekbone on the muzzle when he hugs the rifle tight as he cums- metal and soot and spit and blood mingling together as it feels his body and soul are torn apart. He grunts and moans while his cock shoots rope after rope onto his girl, hips still thrusting weakly as he chases the last of his orgasm down.

#cw objectum #objectophilia #noel.txt #ghost x .... gun?#lol

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sweet-as-an-angel · 2 years ago

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Just hear me out,

Wild west outlaw König.

That's all ,please and thank you❤️

P.s I love love love your work and you inspire me so much more than words can express,so thank you so much

Wild West Outlaw König Headcanons

Warnings: Outlaw König, König Kills People, Obsessive König, König (DEEP) in Love, Looting, Kidnapping, Implied Smut, Non-Explicit Descriptions of Smut, Dominant König, Submissive König, Mention of Ghost, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Petnames, No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You.

A/N: Thank you so much for your kind words, my lovely ! Your kind words have touched my heart, and I hope your creative endeavours flourish <3

Man owns a pair of handcuffs and KNOWS how to use them.

Let’s work on the assumption that he kidnapped you.

Perhaps you were already partially romantically involved but your family would never let you marry someone like König, so he stages a robbery and takes you as part of the ransom.

One he has no intention of accepting any payment for because he’s never letting you go.

König’s monstrous proportions make it easy for him to physically overpower aggressors – other bandits, outlaws, authority figures.

However, he does pose something of a hazard to himself because there’s (much) more of him to hit.

Luckily, he’s straight out of a situation the minute it gets sticky – as if he just disappears into thin air.

Just one of the reasons why he’s called the Phantom Outlaw.

Not to be confused with Ghost, who is also an outlaw but never leaves a trace (or a witness), making his reputation far more ghoulish than König’s.

Though, König does excel in the fear factor, his sheer size and notoriety – his trenchcoat and mask the very visage of Death – forcing everyone who sees him to relinquish their goods in exchange for their lives.

Speaking of, König’s ability to swing thousands in cash makes for a happy home life, given how he spends much of his fortune on you.

Clothes, jewels, literature, instruments, automobiles: you name it, you’ve got at least a treasure trove of each.

Even if you try to resist these gifts, König refuses to let up.

“Can’t have my precious little Engel going without, can I ?”

So, in return, you typically handle all the chores, though König insists you don’t have to.

“It’s not like we can hire a maid to do it for us, can we ?” you tell him. “Especially not when there’s a handsome bounty on that even more handsome head of yours.”

Said bounty is what makes it difficult for the two of you to stay in one place for too long.

And whenever you move, you always try to make the house a safe space for König.

Blankets in his favourite chair, his favourite meal on the table for him whenever you know he’s going to have a rough day, a bit of fun before bed, etc.

You can tell whenever he feels really comfortable, because he takes up three quarters of the bed, just sprawled out like a rapidly growing infection.

And you always fit neatly against his side. Or on his chest.

König calls you his “Little bunny” (or “Bun-Bun”) because of how small you look when you’re nuzzled into his chest.

He never takes you, or anything you do, for granted.

You don’t know this (so keep this a secret between you and I) but König watches you when you sleep. More than you’d think.

Truth be told, the outlaw life terrifies him.

Sure, he has the swagger and the notoriety to make off with thousands in gold, jewels, and lavish material items, but, really, his greatest, most prized treasure is you.

There is only one of you. You cannot be bought, or replicated, or found in the wild like an ore of purest diamond.

Simply put, König’s success is entirely down to the fact that he can’t be caught lacking.

If he ever was to, he knows he’d lose you. Whether you’re taken by a stray bullet in a shoot-out or your town’s rangers come to tear you from his cold, lifeless grip, König takes every precaution to circumvent these tragedies by remaining the fastest hand in the west. And the most ruthless.

Even for an outlaw, his kill count is exceedingly high.

And it’s no coincidence that the numbers began to climb after he met you. Fell in love with you.

People who he’s seen giving you lecherous stares, or those he can sense have poor intentions, he’s taken them out the back and absolved the world of their presence.

And, at the end of every excursion, every execution, every haul, the weight of the world falls from König’s shoulders as he comes back to you.

He takes his mask down around you, hangs his hat upon the coat rack. You’re the only person who he shows his face to.

But, whenever you can tell a fragment of the day resides pinned in his mind, shrapnel of his self-inflicted lifestyle, you make sure to service him before bed.

How he likes to be serviced can change on a day-to-day basis. He’s not fussy.

The only thing that changes is whether he wants to be handled by you or if he wants to slam you into the pillows.

Possessive sex <333.

“Tell me you love me,” he rasps into your ear, pinning you to the mattress with his body, making escape an impossibility to you. “Tell me I’m the only one that will ever have you like this,”

As stated previously; he has a pair of handcuffs and knows how to use them.

Or, if they’re too far out of reach and he needs you bound now, he’ll use rope. Or even just his hands.

Eye contact. The whole time.

It’s as if a different person inhabits him when he gets like this; something dark and jagged, no mere demon, possesses his form. And, by extension, yours.

König’s not stopping until you’re full, he’s empty, and he’s confident you’re not leaving the house for the next few days.

But, when König is feeling fragile, he lets you take the lead.

Just lies back while you’re on top of him, calling him your “Good boy”, “my Prince”, “my protector,” – anything that reaffirms that he holds a great deal of importance in your life.

More often than not, he ends up with tears in his eyes.

Nobody has ever been so gentle and loving towards him as you have. And coupled with how you’re taking him slowly, taking the time to make sure you’re hitting all bases and he’s thoroughly loved, sends him over the edge.

Kiss his tears away and his soul leaves his body.

It’s times like these that, more than anything, König wants a simple life. A paroxysmal desire to lead an ordinary existence where the two of you can live together happily, without the threat of being chased out of town every few months.

And, maybe, one day, even have a family together.

Until then, König will continue to dream, to give you a lifestyle of sapphires and gold and every delicacy the human mind can conjure.

And whenever he looks at you before he leaves, he sees his good luck charm, the light at the end of his tunnel. And, most importantly, the embodiment of love itself.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

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mychlapci · 21 days ago

Note

For cybertronians, both carriers and sires produce energon for sparklings. Since the Megamag divorce happened when Sentinel and Optimus were still at the age where they needed refined energon from their parents, they had to get it from Ultra Magnus. Problem was though, Magnus is not doing a carrier's job, it's demeaning of him to be seen with sparklings on his pouches in public all the time. Sentinel and Optimus are bottle fed babies when Magnus pumps his energon alone. They have an awful time with it at first, being unresponsive to the cold bottle put in their tiny servos versus being snuggled up by their mama to drink from the nozzle, but it was bottle or starve so they had to eat.

Optimus and Sentinel grow up, Optimus is on the repair team, and he gets very clingy to Ratchet. He's so fixated on their cranky old medic, he has the worst staring problem in the wash racks as he tries not to get caught watching Ratchet removing his heavy duty plating to clean his pouches. Eventually they get to earth, the stasis thing happens, they wake back up, Optimus gets killed and revived, TFA rundown. The thing is though, when Optimus is revived his systems are still bouncing back from the shock of being brought back from a snuffed spark. His tanks are sensitive and he's having a horrible time keeping his energon down.

Ratchet basically has to manhandle the prime to medbay. His big fussy sparkling of a boss is resisting the help he needs, and Ratchet isn't playing around with him. He gets Optimus into the med berth and pops off his plating to let his breast free, which makes Prime stop struggling instantly. Ratchet sees it as a good sign, so he keeps pushing his luck. He sits Prime up a little, but the damn mech is still bigger than him so Ratchet has to straddle his lap. Now that they're practically panel to panel, Ratchet can pull Optimus' helm down and press his nozzle to his lips. Optimus is a little lost at first, it had been so long since he had this opportunity, but his reflexes kicked in. He snuggled his face into Ratchet's breast and drank away while the medic pet his helm. It was so good to have fuel that wouldn't cramp his tanks, and in his milk drunk haziness he could make out Ratchet say "There you go kid, that's a good boy."

Might come back to this later, but I think Sentinel's lack of breastfeeding comfort comes out in how he treats the jet twins. He's got Magnus' view of sire and carrier relationships, he's the big mech and he's not feeding the bots he made out of his pouches. He wasn't allowed to have milk from the tap, and look how he turned out! Turns out that encouragement actually just makes the twins pin him down and drink from him like they would offline any second so they would not turn out like him -🌱

NOOO they weren’t breastfed as babies, that explains so much about Optimus and Sentinel. I bet that Ultra Magnus had them put on formula the moment he could, immediately turning off his energon production so it’s once again a choice between the bottle or starving. I think this should mean Optimus and Sentinel both are just really weird around boobs. Optimus gets flustered and stares. Sentinel gets flustered and pretends to be grossed out by them.

oh yes absolutely, post-resurrection Optimus needs milkies to keep functioning :) Ratchet has him on a whole feeding schedule, and Optimus is always very eager to suckle on his pouches. He’s like a big sparkling when Ratchet whips out his titties, it’s almost sad. Ratchet can tell Optimus didn’t get a lot of motherly bonding as a sparkling…

Sentinel would totally think that the experience of not being breastfed made him tougher and stronger or some shit like that. When the jettwins brave up and ask to feed from him because the fuel they’re fed makes them sick (post re-frame system jitters i guess) Sentinel scolds them for being needy and weak just like Ultra Magnus used to scold him and Optimus. They get their milkies anyways though :) and i bet it feels kind of weirdly good for Sentinel, who would never admit that.

#valveplug #texty #pregnancy mention #dubcon #breastfeeding #lactation #scheduled

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mysticworks · 10 months ago

Text

I believe in you ~ Lewis Hamilton

Lewis turns up at your workplace...9 years later. You both realise your feelings are unchanged.

Preview ~

Lewis leaned forward, placing his elbow on the desk and resting his head on his palm.

His face had matured; still young and youthful, yet somehow he exerted confidence, charisma, surety.

Your eyes met and neither broke contact first, his big brown orbs staring straight into your own.

"I could get lost in your eyes. For hours on end."

Word Count: 1.7k

Genre: mystery, angst, sparks flying, fluff

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sau Paulo Grand Prix - 2021:

The silence in the room was deafening. Air thick and heavy, weighing down upon you mercilessly. Lewis sat across from you at your office desk, his eyes glaring intently on your FIA Legal Consultant name plaque. If he stared any longer, it seemed the glass would burn up in flames from such a stare.

Lewis’ legal representative sat beside him, shoulders high and squared as if preparing to fight with you. His appearance was demeaning, shirt buttoned right to the top, his thick neck, plump, red and threatening to burst. Tom Priestley wore a grubby smile on his face - sinister and cold.

So much for cooperation.

You resisted the urge to sink into the ground and call it a day.

Clearing your throat you drew in a long, slow breath.

Stay calm. Stay level-headed. Stay powerful.

“Once again Mr Hamilton, I ask for your cooperation, that’ll make this meeting much easier for both of us.”

Since the moment he’d stepped into your office, Lewis had not looked you in the eye once. His head remained lowered, his gaze finding new objects to focus on. Not that you were surprised. It was your first meeting since that had happened.

He hadn't said a single word either, Priestley interjecting for him wherever possible.

“We see no reason to cooperate with you. In any case, my client, Mr Hamilton, is the victim here.”

If you had a baseball bat handy, Priestley's head would be your first target.

You shot him a glare and you could’ve sworn he jumped a little, before clearing his throat. When Priestley opened his mouth again, his tone was rushed, voice slightly squeaky.

“As we’ve mentioned before, the Mercedes car was always built within regulation. To even dare to insinuate otherwise is an absolute farce of a-”

You cut his pitiful rambling off, keeping your tone stern. Your eyes remained trained on Lewis, seeking some kind of response.

“I have no intention to indict Mr Hamilton, or the team. I am here to clear Mr Hamilton from untruthful claims.” You let your words fall powerfully.

You saw Lewis shift his gaze to you for a fleeting moment, looking away as soon as your eyes made contact. He turned to Priestley. “It’s alright Tom.” You’d never expected his voice to be so… lacking in energy. It was quiet. Uncertain.

You saw the pitiful lawyer’s face fall. He looked shocked, destroyed almost, at being asked to leave, but he rummaged his things together and took off from your office, muttering words of distaste that you didn’t bother deciphering.

Tapping the intercom button on your desk phone you reached for your secretary, “Show Mr Priestley the envelope we prepared for him. I’m sure he’ll opt to wait in the car after seeing the contents.”

It was Lewis’ response that made you shoot your head back in his direction. The first time he’d spoken. Unlike what you’d expected there was no malice in his voice. No long lasting hatred.

“Did you just threaten my lawyer?”

Amusement. A suppressed chuckle lay beneath his words and a flood of relief passed through you.

“Well technically I made a fair deal.” You shrugged your shoulders upwards, allowing a small smile to rest on your face.

9 years on and his presence was still the same; warm. The awkward air had shifted - all from his one sentence. The effect Lewis had, was powerful.

The driver’s shoulders visibly relaxed, he raised an eyebrow, “Is that what you’re going to do with me? Make a deal?”

You shook your head, turning away from your laptop screen to look straight at the driver.

“No. I’m going to get to the bottom of this investigation. I’m on your side Mr Hamilton.”

Lewis leaned forward, placing his elbow on the desk and resting his head on his palm.

He seemed so much closer, so much more in reach. You subconsciously found yourself tilting your head forward, taking a better look at how much he’d changed.

His face had matured; still young and youthful, yet somehow he exerted confidence, charisma, surety.

Your eyes met and neither broke contact first, his big brown orbs staring straight into your own.

I could get lost in your eyes. For hours on end.

They were so welcoming. So friendly. In that moment, you realised just how much you’d missed Lewis.

9 years ago, both rookies in your respected positions. He’d just joined Mercedes and you’d been assigned as his press manager. At his side for every interview, every press conference, every media event; behind the camera where only he could see you.

Before the accusations came thundering down.

You pushed the thought away, blinking and breaking contact with Lewis’ eyes.

Clearing your throat you focused back onto your screen, “I just need you to answer a few questions for me, then you’re free to go.”

“Hmm?” He was unfocused, his gaze still piercing into you, and you felt your cheeks heat up.

“Mr Hamilton. The case.”

“Oh right, yeah, fire away.” He looked like he’d just woken up, off guard.

You gave a curt nod of your head, before taking on the task at hand.

------------------------------------------------------------

30 minutes in and you’d finished a full official statement from Lewis’ perspective on his rear wing meeting FIA standards.

“So, do you think we’ll be penalised?”

Lewis had been lit with a different passion in that crucial half hour, eager to prove himself innocent of breaching race guidelines.

You scanned your documents before looking up to Lewis. His eyes were wide open, eager. Desperate. “I can race right?”

“I can't control the outcome Mr Hamilton.” His face fell, eyes dulling immediately. This really meant the world to him.

“But I promise you, you will be in that race. I will do everything in my power to get you in the Brazilian GP.”

He looked slightly more hopeful, yet sceptical, the doubt dancing across his mind.

“You sure?” His voice seemed to have dropped.

“You will be in that race, or I will quit this job.”

Your statement exuded a deep chuckle from Lewis, the corners of his eyes creasing as he grinned wide. “As dramatic as ever.”

That earned him an eyeroll. Just like it used to be.

The diffused tension was calming, making you reminiscent of old days. The ones you now so eagerly missed. “If I get on that podium, dinner is on me.”

You raised your eyebrows, letting your lips curl into a smirk. “You get first place and I’ll consider the offer.”

Lewis’ eyes shone playfully, his head nodding as he considered your response.

“Damn you really do know how to make these deals.”

There was laughter filling your office - hearty and playful. You still couldn’t believe how much he’d grown into a fine gentleman, from his appearance to his aura. Everything was different yet the same. It made goosebumps rise on your skin, your heart thumping faster than ever.

“Shake on it?”

You offered your arm across the table, and Lewis reached out, taking it. But he didn’t shake your hand, he held onto it, his thumb stroking the back of your palm ever so slightly.

His hand was so big and warm - callused yet gentle. You found yourself trapped in his gaze again, enticed by those chocolate eyes.

Your breath hitched in your throat. You felt your stomach go wild.

His voice was low when he spoke. Raspy, on the edge of a whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

You knew what he was referring to. All those years ago…

…the accusations that Lewis had the power to question. The hatred you’d felt from the glaring eyes of all the Mercedes team. The disappointment in Toto’s eyes. The shame. You’d gotten orders to resign hours later - forced to walk away and never look back.

“I never believed what was said. Not for one second, but I never spoke up.” There was a deeper pain in his voice; remorse.

It all made sense now. He’d been consumed by guilt. He never kept in touch because he blamed himself, burned himself with regret.

Yet it made all the difference to you to learn that he never believed any of itl for a second. Somehow, him knowing it wasn’t true made you forgive him.

You found yourself smiling in reply.

“I wouldn’t be who I am today without what happened.”

“I like who you are now.”

The sentence hit you much harder than you thought it would, palpitations running through your heart. There was a throb in your brain, your hands clammy with sweat.

Lewis seemed surprised at his own sentence, recovering quickly with a sheepish grin. He scratched the back of his head, “I’ve never seen Tom more frightened.”

You snorted at his comment, the tension falling again, and Lewis released your hand, picking up his coat before turning towards the door.

You let him leave, the both of you saying nothing else but departing with small smiles of understanding.

Each footstep of his, echoed loud in your ears - ringing.

He was leaving.

You felt a sudden urge to go after him. To say something more. There was a burn in your heart, pulling you to your feet and you rushed out onto the corridor, heels clicking against the marble.

You caught him at the elevator, and your eyes locked once more. “Lewis,”

Your voice was breathy, a low, soft whisper.

His mouth opened. You’d called him Lewis, not Mr Hamilton - electric shocks went flying through his limbs, his hands tingling. He beamed a wide, toothy grin.

“I believe in you Lewis. I believe you can win.” His eyes lit up with a fire you'd never seen before.

The elevator door slammed shut. And you were left in the corridor, standing alone.

The 9 year old burden had been lifted.

—---------------------------------------------------------

That Friday:

6pm and you were calling it a day. The sun was approaching its farewell, its golden rays painting the city skyline a beautiful yellow.

As you wrapped up in the office your phone buzzed. It was an unknown number.

P1 it is.

Deal is on. Be ready in an hour.

You beamed with joy. I knew you could do it Lewis.

#lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 #lewis hamilton fanfic #formula one #lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton one shot #sir lewis hamilton #formula one x reader

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k-nayee · 2 months ago

Text

Fallen Hazbin Hotel ii

wc: 4.7k a/n: i hade fun dipping my toes into the Hazbin universe! and though this might be the final installment of this specific series, expect another HH project soon!

Traveler M.List

Previous |

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

You take a deep breath as you stand outside the door of the Hazbin Hotel.

It had been years since you'd last seen Charlie, and in that time, the little girl you'd known had grown.

Nervously you reach out and press the doorbell with a trembling hand, the faint chime echoing beyond the heavy doors.

As you wait memories begin to surface—filling you with the bittersweetness of everything that had brought you here.

"I...wasn't sent. I was cast out. I—"

Before you could continue a small determined voice cut through the tension.

"Daddy stop!" Charlie's tiny hands pulled insistently at Lucifer's arm as she cried out. "She's my friend. She wouldn't hurt me."

As Lucifer glanced down at her, his grip on the blade eased just a bit, though he still held you firm.

With one final look he lifts his foot from your chest, allowing you sit up with a heaving gasp..

Charlie immediately rushed to your side and threw her small arms around you in a comforting hug.

"See?" she said brightly as though this simple gesture proved everything. "She's nice!"

Lucifer's expression shifted into something more reserved, his eyes cold still wary as he regarded you. "Why have you fallen to my realm?"

After a moment of struggling for words you took a shuddering breath.

"I'm not a...a spy. I...did not come here willingly." Your voice cracked slightly. "I was cast out. Kicked out of Heaven...by someone I trusted."

The Accuser of Humanity's gaze softened ever so slightly. He seemed to weigh your words carefully, watching you closely for any hint of deception.

Finally with a nod, he extends a hand toward you. "Come with me."

Too tired to resist or even question you follow him out of the scorched landscape.

The Magne-Morningstar home was grand and imposing—its sharp gothic lines softened only by the warm glow of lights spilling from the windows.

Inside the atmosphere felt surprisingly welcoming, and yet there was a kind of grandeur to it that reminded you who exactly you were dealing with.

No sooner had you crossed the threshold Charlie whipped towards you with sparkling eyes.

"So what do you want to do first?!" She's bouncing on her feet in excitement. Before you could answer she lets out a gasp. "Wait! I can show you my favorite stuffed toy. I'll be right back!"

With that the golden haired child goes rushing down the hallway and around the corner.

Your steps felt heavier with each one you took the further Lucifer guided into the home. That's when you felt it: a gentle warm presence of comfort that seemed to fill the room before you even saw it.

You looked as a tall and graceful woman appeared.

Lilith. The first wife of Adam.

You had heard stories of course. But none of them did justice to her beauty or the aura of calm authority that surrounded her.

She had an ethereal quality as her golden hair flowed softly over her shoulders. Her gaze was serene yet sharp—it was as if she could read the depths of your being with a single look.

Though that expression softened upon seeing your weary form; your lack of a halo and the unmistakable redness around your eyes telling her all she need.

"Oh...you poor thing," she murmured a motherly sympathy in her tone. Without another word she crossed the room to gently place a hand on your shoulder.

Her touch was a kind of nurturing kindness you hadn't felt since your time in Heaven.

It caused the last bit of your composure to crumble.

Your wings sagged behind you, mirroring the despair you could no longer keep inside.

You found yourself blubbering, barely coherent as you recounted everything—Adam, the discovery of his plans, his betrayal, the Fall...

Lucifer and Lilith exchanged a look of shock, their expressions reflecting the enormity of what you had just shared.

Lilith moved closer to wrap her arms around you in a comforting embrace.

"Shh it's all right." Her hand gently rests on your back. "You're safe here" she whispers soothingly.

Meanwhile Lucifer's jaw tightened as his eyes flashed with a barely restrained fury.

You could hear the anger in the heavy steps he took leaving the room, muttering something about "speaking with Heaven" as he stormed off.

Left alone with Lilith you felt the weight of exhaustion settle over you like a heavy blanket.

But before you could sink too deeply into it...

"Are you okay?" You look up to see Charlie had crept back into the room, stuffed tortured teddy bear in her tiny hands as she watched you with concern in her wide eyes.

Lilith turned to her daughter with a hint of a reprimand in her tone. "Charlotte, I thought I told you to stay in your room."

Charlie's face fell. She looked down as her shoulders lowered in a mix of disappointment and shame. "I'm sorry Momma..."

Seeing her so crestfallen, you wipe away the last of your tears before putting on a small reassuring smile.

"It's all right, really," you glance at Lilith. "She's just trying to help."

Hesitating at first, the Queen of Hell Lilith steps back allowing Charlie to approach you.

The small child's face lit up instantly. She sidle up next to you and began spewing out questions—she wanted to know everything about you.

Where you'd come from? What Heaven was like? Do angels really sing all the time like they did in stories?

You found yourself chuckling softly and indulge her endless inquiries; each answer drawing out a little more light from you.

Lilith watched with a hint of a smile curving her lips as she observed the two of you.

Seeing her mother's expression, determination gleamed in Charlie's red eyes.

"Are you going to stay here?" her tone was both hopeful and expectant.

You shoot a glance to Lilith. There was a warmth in her gaze as gave a small nod. "If...if it's alright."

The First woman stepped forward, resting a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"Of course," she replied, voice as gentle as ever. "You're welcome to stay as long as you need."

The words settled over you like a warm blanket and a sense of belonging slowly started to take root.

You offered her a grateful smile as a tear slip down your cheek, though this time it wasn't from sadness.

Charlie was practically buzzing with excitement. She threw her arms around you in a hug with a loud squeal making you laugh.

You hug her back, your wings curling around the two of you in a cocoon of soft feathers.

In that moment, you felt a strange sense of peace, a flicker of hope stirring in the depths of your heart.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

You were playing an intense game of tag with Charlie.

She had grown over the years, now physically around eight or nine, her features beginning to show hints of maturity.

Life in Hell wasn't as foreign as it once had been. And though it would never be Heaven, the Magne-Morningstar family made it bearable—especially Charlie.

Since Lilith's disappearance you had unofficially become the Princess of Hell's nanny.

A steady presence in her life, you were the one who instilled in her the belief that not everyone deserved damnation if they chose to change.

"Gotta be quicker than that!" Charlie teases as she continues to dart and giggle around you.

This has been going on for a while now of you being It; your body beginning to tire out as she zips around with gleeful squeals.

It was just by chance you manage to tap her shoulder. A grin decorated your face as she skidded to a halt, pouting at you with a glare.

"Fine fine...I'm It," she grumbled. Then a mischievous glint flickered in her eyes, her lips curling into a sly grin when a red glow began to faintly surround her body.

Your brows raise at this. "Using your powers to cheat? Now Charlie..." you warned despite your smile betraying you.

In a blink of an eye she appears before you and shoves against your chest a victorious grin "Tag you're IT!"

The moment she touched you a sharp intense pain coursed through your body, cutting off your laughter and leaving you gasping.

The playful atmosphere vanished.

Your hand flew to your chest where her fingers had brushed against you and you stumbled back, eyes wide and pained.

"Oh no!" Charlie's voice wavered with panic, her eyes wide as she stepped back. "Are you okay?!"

Her small hands fluttered nervously as she saw the pain cross your face and her concern only deepened when you couldn't answer her.

Tears pricked at her eyes. Without waiting, she bolted from the room. "Daddy!" she cried out. "Daddy come quick!"

As her footsteps faded you dropped to your knees, the pain slowly ebbing but leaving an unusual warmth in its wake.

Your breathing hitched as the intense sensation spread throughout your body.

You looked down in shock as your hands began to darken, the pitch black color pooling at your fingertips before spreading upward to your forearms and stopping in an ombré-like effect where it faded back to your original skin tone.

The once soft and pure white feathered wings darkened, shifting into a sleek obsidian black as the top layer took on a hardened almost shield-like form while the inner feathers retained their soft down.

You sensed you could control the layers, making them sharp and protective or soft and welcoming.

Hands flew to your face where you felt your incisors growing sharper and longer before moving up to your ear, feeling where they tapered into a subtle elfish point.

In the corner of the room you caught sight of a mirror. You stumbled toward it, your breath catching as you saw your reflection.

Your eyes...

What was once warm and full of light had now turned black as a void. Even the whites of your eyes dimmed to an eerie black, reflecting no color or depth.

The hollow look was unsettling; it made your smile look fake and deceptive—a contrast to the kindness you still felt inside.

You sighed. Seems like the delayed transformation of your Fall finally happened.

Just then, hurried footsteps echoed from down the hall. You turned as Charlie burst back into the room dragging her father along with her.

Lucifer's usual composed expression faltered as his eyes landed on you.

"Um...you look..." He stammered at a lost for words. "...you...look—"

"Amazing!" Charlie interrupted in awe. Her eyes sparkled with uncontained giddiness as she looked you up and down, not the slightest bit put off by your new appearance.

Before either of you could react, she darts forward and leaped into your arms, immediately peppering you with questions.

"Does it hurt? Can you still fly? Oh your wings look so cool now!" Her hands eagerly brushed over your blackened hands while eyeing the new texture of your wings in infectious excitement.

You glance over her shoulder to meet Lucifer's gaze.

He rubs the back of his neck with a sheepish smile. "This is...going to be a while."

The opening of the front door snapped you back to the present. You stood at the entrance of Hazbin Hotel, taking in the familiar figure who now occupied its doorway.

Charlie was all grown up. She had changed so much in the years since you'd last seen her.

She looked taller, her face holding an edge of determination and resilience, but the warmth and earnest in her eyes were exactly the same.

You found yourself tilting your head just to meet her gaze, memories of the little girl she'd once been rushing back as you saw the woman she had become.

Charlie's expression froze as she took in the sight of you. "....____" she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Overcome with warmth and nostalgia you gave her a soft smile. "Charlotte Magne-Morningstar," you whispered fondly, your voice catching as you took her in.

She look to the ground with an embarrassed but happy smile playing on her lips. "It's...just Morningstar now. I've decided to just use dad's name," she said softly, a hint of sorrow in her tone.

You gently cup her cheek and lift her face to meet yours. "Morningstar...Magne...Either way it's a beautiful name no matter what. Just like you."

At that her composure broke and she flung her arms around you into a fierce hug. You held her close as the years of separation seemed to melt away in that single embrace.

After a few moments, she pulled back, laughing a little at her own tears as she wiped them away.

Regaining her cheerful spirit once more she turns back to the open doors. "Well come inside—I've got so much to show you. And I can't wait for you to meet the rest of the team!"

As you entered the hotel you couldn't help but marvel at its vibrant chaotic charm. It was a colorful place, full of life and personality—a reflection of Charlie's dreams for redemption.

She led you through the lobby in excited chatter, clearly eager for you to meet the others.

The first person to approach was Vagatha. She regarded you with a cautious look, and as you moved forward to greet her you saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes.

You already knew her from Charlie's early days, and though Vaggie wasn't much of a hugger, she allowed you to pull her into an embrace.

"Vaggie~" you cooed with a gentle squeeze. "You've taken such good care of her haven't you? I always knew Charlie had the best taste—and here you are as strong and dependable as ever."

Clearly not used to such open displays of affection, Vaggie stiffened, but a hint of a smile cracked her otherwise serious expression.

"Yeah well...someone's gotta make sure she doesn't get herself into too much trouble," she mumbled as she awkwardly patted your back before pulling away.

You grinned, giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder. "I knew you'd be the perfect match for her Vaggie. You keep her grounded."

"Well, well, who's this classy broad Charlie dragged in here?" A tall slender figure with an almost impossibly long set of legs strutted into view.

His spidery frame was clothed in a light pink blazer with white stripes running down its length and a grey miniskirt.

Standing in a playful arrogant stance, his hands was on his hips as he leaned closer to examine you, a mischievous glint in his cerise pink eyes.

"Well look at you," he drawled, a smirk curling over his lips as he eyed you up and down.

"I usually don't swing that way, but for you sweetheart...." his voice lowered to a flirtatious purr, "I'll even give ya a 99% discount."

You held his gaze, raising a brow with an amused smile as you gave him your own once-over. "Oh I'm flattered. But I'd be careful with discounts that high—someone might think you're giving it out for charity."

For a split second the Sinner's confident expression wavered. He blinked, obviously thrown off, before tossing his head back with a little laugh. "Feisty huh? Well your loss."

In attempt to regain his composure, he wiggles his brows with a smug grin. "Name's Angel Dust. First official Sinner to sign up to this joint! My man works here too, at the bar no less."

"Fuck no I'm not!" A gruff voice immediately barks from across the room.

You turn to see another demon slouched at the bar. He had scruffy looking cat features with large red wings that were speckled with roulette wheel designs.

His top hat sat low over his eyes as he stood with an aura of a man who'd seen more than his fair share of life's troubles.

With a bored look, he lifted his glass and tossed back in one go, muttering something under his breath.

Angel Dust lean toward you as if to share a secret. "That one's Husk. He's our resident grump. Don't let the wings fool ya though; he's got about as much pep as a wet mop."

"Yeah yeah," Husk grunted in response, his piercing yellow eyes briefly landing on you with a look of mild indifference. "Nice to meet you whoever you are."

Before you could reply, a small blur of energy barreled into your chest with surprising force.

Years of experience with a young Charlie had honed your reflexes so you managed to keep your balance as a little figure attached itself to you.

You look down to see a pint-sized girl already looking up at you with a her big sparkling eye.

She wore a frilly maid dress, her pinkish-red hair in a messy bob and a bright sharp-toothed grin that made her appear younger than she probably was.

"Hiya!" she squealed, practically bouncing in your arms. She quickly slipped free and darted around you; poking and prodding at your wings, your clothes, your hair—her curiosity boundless. "Oh wow! Are you an angel? Why do your eyes look like that? Are your wings real? They seem sharp, are they sharp? Why're you here? Can I help you clean something?"

The fuzziness in your heart grew as you took in her enthusiasm. She reminded you so much of young Charlie—curious, innocent, and full of boundless energy.

"Well aren't you just a little ray of Sunshine?" you say warmly. "And yes the wings are real. I'm just visiting here to help Charlie."

"Oh I love helping!" she announced proudly as she beamed up at you. "I'm Niffty! I clean the whole hotel and I can fix things and catch bugs and—"

"Well Niffty it's nice to meet you." You ruffle her hair at her eagerness. "I'll be counting on you to help me settle in then."

Niffty giggled, bouncing up and down on the tips of her toes. "You got it! I'll show you the ropes don't you worry!"

Just as she gave a mock salute a sudden chill washed over you. Your entire body went rigid, feathers ruffling and bristling instinctively as you scanned your surroundings.

The shift in your stance didn't go unnoticed—everyone around you paused, watching in confusion as you snapped your head toward a shadowed corner of the room.

In one smooth motion you scooped Niffty into your arms and shielded her with your wings.

She blinked up at you in surprise but was content enough to stay nestled in your arms.

The others exchanged puzzled glances as the room continue to fill with a static-like energy.

"Interesting," came an eerie voice from nowhere. The sensation of dread sharpened, twisting in your gut as air in the room thickened with glitching shadows that warped with a pulse.

"My my my...How delicate your radar must be my dear!" the voice drawled, distorted and warped, as if coming from an old radio.

The shadows swirled together in a grotesque display of shapes and symbols, each flickering with demonic intent.

Glitching in and out of focus, a figure began to take form, limbs stretching unnaturally until they merged into a humanoid shape.

Finally, the figure solidified into a man in a tailored red suit adorned with a permanent razor-sharp smile.

He was tall and dapper with crimson eyes that gleamed with amusement as he tipped his head.

"Radio Demon," you murmured, a slight edge still in your voice as you took him in.

"Ah! I see my reputation precedes me." His grin sharpened as he extended his hand with exaggerated elegance. "A pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."

Your gaze move down to his extended hand. Then, steeling yourself, you reached out and grasp his with your fingertips delicately.

"The pleasure is all mine Alastor." Your gaze remained steady.

He chuckled lowly as his gaze dart to Niffty.

The little demoness remained calmly in your arms—an unusual sight as she was normally a bundle of energy bouncing around the room.

Noting her stillness his eyes widened ever so slightly before his smile stretched further.

For a flicker of a second he looked truly entertained.

"Why Miss Niffty, so well-behaved," he commented smoothly, his voice laced with mock surprise. "I must say this is a rare sight indeed."

You held her a bit closer. Alastor chuckled softly, clearly amused by the subtle tension lingering between you and him.

It was as if the very air was alive with a quiet electric anticipation.

The weight of his stare was sharp and calculating as if he were trying to decipher something deeper about you. "Quite rare to meet someone here with such an...elegant composure, don't you think?"

"I like to call it being prepared. After all, if Charlie's advertisement caught my attention it's only right to be ready for any characters I might encounter in this..." Your head tilt just slightly "...endeavor."

Charlie's cheeks flushed. "You saw that?" Her face grew redder as she nervously glanced around at the others with an embarrassed laugh.

"I mean of course you did! I was um...reaching a broader audience," she stumbled over her words.

You couldn't help the playful smirk that tugged at your lips as you raised a brow at her.

"Yes. It was very...persuasive I'd say." you teased gently, a glint of humor in your eyes. "I suppose you didn't inherit your mother's love for subtlety?"

Charlie scratched the back of her head with a sheepish smile. "Hey well...I had to make sure people would notice right?"

Alastor chuckled, the sound both amused and mocking. "Oh I assure you, it was quite unforgettable darling."

The tension in the room gradually began to ease and Charlie's slight embarrassment gave way to a warm grateful smile as she turned to you.

"I can't say I knew for sure you'd come, but I hoped you would." Her voice was with relief, "You've already done so much for me and now that you're here...I feel like maybe this really could work."

You met her gaze, your expression softening as you gave her a reassuring nod. "Then it sounds like I'll be sticking around."

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

Time passed at the Hazbin Hotel and the chaotic yet oddly comforting environment began to feel like home.

You had settled into a familiar rhythm of helping Charlie manage the place and creating a warm, nurturing atmosphere for anyone who entered.

From helping with the more eccentric residents to patching up old furniture and sewing comforting quilts for the rooms—even the smallest gestures seemed to lift her spirits.

To the Princess of Hell, her dream of redemption had finally gained some grounding.

She took on the role with a fierce optimism and you couldn't help but admire her dedication.

One of the more surprising connections you formed was with Alastor.

He frequently appeared whenever you were working alone, often in the most unexpected ways, with that trademark grin of his.

At first his intense fascination was unsettling; his attention always lingered just a moment too long, his eyes following you with a glint of curiosity that felt...predatory.

But over time a strange rapport developed between you.

Alastor had a habit of calling you My Doe, a nickname laced with a sinister charm that made you wonder if he viewed you as something to be admired—or as prey.

You gave him a half-smile the first time you heard it; equal parts wary and intrigued. "I'm honored you think so, Alastor. But I can't imagine you chose that nickname out of respect for my innocence."

"Oh no," his eyes gleamed with a mischievous spark. "I simply enjoy...delicate creatures, especially ones who wander into the woods so willingly."

He often observed you as if studying an intricate puzzle, letting out certain remarks every now and again to test your reaction.

And yet you handled his presence with the same calm poise you extended to everyone else.

One particular afternoon, you were sitting in the hotel lounge, carefully sewing a quilt to place in one of the rooms for a newly arrived sinner.

Each stitch was precise—your hands moving rhythmically as you worked on the fabric.

Alastor lounged nearby in an armchair with a newspaper in hand, though his eyes frequently drifted over the top of the paper to watch you.

"You're quite the homemaker my Doe," he remarked as he lowered the paper slightly to catch your reaction. "It's rare to find such...dedication in these infernal lands."

You look up to meet his piercing gaze with a small amused smile. "Someone has to bring a bit of comfort here. Besides, it helps Charlie's mission if the guests feel more welcome."

Alastor's smile widened with a hint of mischief.

"Ah, ever the gentle spirit. I must say it's fascinating to watch." He leaned back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other as he continued to observe you with that keen predatory interest.

"Perhaps one day you'll teach me your ways," he added, voice dipped in mock reverence. "Though I can't promise I'd make as lovely a hostess."

You chuckled as you folded the edge of the quilt. "I think the hotel is charming enough without your help Alastor. But perhaps I'll teach you a few things...that's if you're willing to learn."

His eyes glinted with amusement as if accepting a challenge. "Oh I'd be delighted my Doe."

Just as the banter between you settled into a comfortable silence, a faint sound echoed from the entrance hall.

You chose not to care but Alastor's sharp gaze flicked towards the source, his smile fading as he gracefully stood up with an unsettling swiftness.

The shift in his posture was immediate; he was no longer relaxed but rather alert, as if sensing something powerful approaching.

"Ah my sweet daughter. Did you really think you'd get away with such...ambition without inviting your dear father to see the spectacle?" A deep voice, with an edge of malice, boomed into the lounge.

Footsteps echoed down the hall before the room was filled with an aura of that seemed to make the very walls shudder.

Dressed in a crisp white suit trimmed in red with a wide-brimmed hat topped by a gold snake and crowned with a gleaming red apple, the sleek black cane in his hand tapped the floor as he entered.

Lucifer Morningstar had arrived.

He stood tall and regal as he exuded his usual aura of authority and charm. Sharp crimson eyes shining with amusement swept over the room.

But when Lucifer's gaze fell on you, his entire demeanor shifted.

His stern expression softened and his eyes brightened as a wide smile crept across his face.

"Ah...there you are." His voice dropped to something tender and almost bashful.

The First of Fallen practically beamed at you, a blush dusting his cheeks. "I...missed you," he murmured, a touch of nervousness coloring his tone.

He crossed the room quickly, eyes fixed on you with a gleam. The moment he reached your side, he gently took your hand in his and pressed it to his chest with a dramatic sigh.'

"My dear ____," he was filled with a childlike glee. "I've missed you more than you can imagine. It has been simply dreadful without your presence. Every day felt like an eternity."

You couldn't help but smile back, equal parts amused and fond. Reaching up you give his head a gentle pat on the head. "Lucifer it's only been a month."

At the touch his face turned a deeper shade of pink. "Yes but two weeks without you," he insisted, his voice soft and adoring.

A faint giggle escaped him as he tilted his head toward your touch like he was savoring every second of it.

The room had fallen into an almost comical silence.

Charlie stood frozen in shock, mouth slightly open as she watched her father—Lucifer Morningstar, the King of Hell—behaving like a lovesick puppy.

Vaggie's usual expression of skepticism heightened to the point where she looked like she was witnessing a miracle.

Angel Dust had to physically stifle his laughter with a three gloved hands pressed to his mouth as he shook with barely contained glee.

But it was Alastor's reaction that stood out the most.

His trademark grin had faltered; head tilted slightly as his eyes narrowed at Lucifer's affectionate display with you.

It was as if he were analyzing each expression, each movement—trying to understand the spell you seemed to cast on Hell's most feared figure.

Whatever it is, he couldn't help but feel like this was just beginning.

Tag-list for this series!:

@6jack6rabbit6

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bits-and-babs · 1 year ago

Text

✧ 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟑 ✧

with one week until october, i've decided it's time i return to writing. i've planned out a release schedule for a kinktober celebration, and hope that i'll be able to complete it this year ! please enjoy, i can't wait to release work for you all again ! ღ

from the 1st - 31st i will be posting one smut fic a day with different prompts featuring different characters. all fics relating to this event will be tagged kinktober 2023. this masterlist will be continually updated as i go.

minors dni: please note all writing in this event is not suitable for minors. if i find minors interacting with my work, you will be blocked.

content tags: please be mindful of the content tags on my fics. each fic will have it's own separate cw section, detailing any sensitive or triggering content. i give ample warning, so if you don't like do not read. all fics will be written as f!reader.

tagging: i will be tagging my usual taglist for the characters I write each day. if you wish to be tagged on each day of kinktober, please sign up via the taglist below.

navigation blog rules taglist

𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐎𝐍𝐄 ─

OCTOBER 001.

camgirl | simon 'ghost' riley x camgirl!reader summary: a new client sends a request for a solo-cam performance. his lack of detail and scarce details leave you unprepared. cw: f!reader, sexwork, dirty talk, breast-play, m & f masturbation, use of sex toy, use of honorific 'sir' but no real power dynamic.

OCTOBER 002.

touch starved | din djarin x reader summary: the child has been getting in the way of you and mando spending time together. after weeks without your touch, he's finally reaching his limit. cw: f!reader, needy din, slightly ooc din to fit the theme, begging, oral (m receiving), cumming early, reference to f oral.

OCTOBER 003.

phone sex | johnny mactavish x reader summary: on leave, johnny can't resist pestering you while you're at work. or perhaps he just can't resist you... cw: f!reader, sexting, dirty talk, voyeurism(?), begging, masturbation (m & f), orgasm denial, inferred voyeurism. this one made me blush.

OCTOBER 004.

aphrodisiac | grand admiral thrawn x reader summary: grand admiral thrawn has a unconventional way of convincing neighbouring planets to pledge allegiance to the empire. cw: aphrodisiacs/sex pollen vibes so dub-con, fingering, cum eating, political mind games.

OCTOBER 005.

clothes on | joel miller x reader summary: trapped inside a wardrobe whilst hiding from infected, joel ups the ante of survival. cw: f!reader, threat to life, mentions of gore, quiet or die kind of vibe, unprotected sex, p in v sex, cream pie, autassassinophilia – arousal in the fear of being killed.

OCTOBER 006.

nipple piercings | captain john price x reader summary: three months into your sas training course, chief directional instructor captain john price drills you on cold-water-shock survival. cw: f!reader, cold water shock, power imbalance (recruit x directing staff), secret relationship, breast/nipple stimulation, unprotected sex, p in v sex, cream pie.

OCTOBER 007.

incubus | maul x reader summary: a bizarre creature comes to visit your dreams, promising to satiate the desperate yearning of your body that it sensed across the plains of the force. cw: incubus! – somnophilia and dub-con by default, size kink, rough sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, cream-pie, choking, breath play, use of pet name ‘dove’

𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐓𝐖𝐎 —

OCTOBER 008.

roleplay | könig x reader summary: as with all of your bedroom antics with könig, you plant the seed. but when he finally succumbs to your devious plan, you struggle to withstand the heat. cw: roleplay hostage situation, faux attack, faux disregard for partners comfort (konig cares a lot though, i promise) oral sex (m receiving), rough oral sex, face slapping, rough deep throating, swallowing.

OCTOBER 009.

witch!reader | din djarin x reader summary: cw:

OCTOBER 010.

cheating | captain john price x reader summary: cw:

OCTOBER 011.

breeding kink | grand admiral thrawn x reader summary: cw:

OCTOBER 012.

caught sex | joel miller x reader summary: cw:

OCTOBER 013.

morning sex | john mactavish x reader summary: cw:

OCTOBER 014.

hate sex | oberyn martel x reader summary: cw:

𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 —

tbc...

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #spooktober #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley fanfiction #john soap mctavish #john soap mctavish x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #star wars #star wars smut #mwii smut #thrawn #grand admiral thrawn x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #tlou smut

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ask-jiro-kirisaki · 3 months ago

Text

Relationship Headcanons

Being in a relationship with Jiro would require a large amount of patience at first. Given his lack of social awareness, he would often need to be told what you need from him. You would need to sit him down and have a conversation about what kind of affection you like as he often just does what he's told. Finding out what he likes would take a bit of exploring. He rarely thinks of his own needs, so it's likely he doesn't even know what he wants. Once he does figure things out, you'll find him just going for what he wants, within reason. Don't be surprised if hugs and kisses come out of nowhere. He might pull you to sit on his lap or carry you someplace where he can keep you to himself. Jiro takes the path of least resistance, so be sure to tell him what you're not okay with. He will do his absolute best to commit it to memory. The goober sometimes forgets his own strength, so you may find your feet leaving the floor more often than you think. After a while, you'd begin to wonder if it's an accident or if he's lifting you on purpose. I think once he gets a taste of physical affection, he'll start to crave it. He'll hold you close while you're snuggled up together and he's reading a book. He'll start absently playing with your hair or leaning on you. He might even reach for your hand if you're close enough and otherwise unoccupied. The feeling of your warmth is a pleasure that he seeks over and over again. He tends to run a little cold in his extremities, so brace yourself for cold hands. Once he knows what you like, he will dote on you as much as he can. He has a hard time expressing emotion, so he compensates with these acts to make sure you felt as loved and appreciated as you make him feel. If there's ever a proposal, don't expect any grand, sweeping gestures. One day, when he feels it to be the appropriate timing, he'll just bring it up as casually as asking what's for dinner. He doesn't see the need for anything else when it's just a simple question. If you end up saying no, it wouldn't hurt his feelings any. He'd simply conclude it's not the right time and try again later (unless you explicitly say marriage isn't in the cards). Patience will still be required as he has a chronic illness. He'll need frequent treatments. He can't eat or drink anything without assistance. He gets sick easily. His wounds reopen frequently. Even so, he tries to work and make you happy, so it might become your job to make sure he gets rest. He can be easily coerced back into bed with some cuddles if he's not feeling well though. I'll make a separate post for the NSFW stuff once I figure that out.

#jiro kirisaki #tokyo debunker #headcanon #mun wants to think about happy things like relationships #Ask box is empty so headcanon posts incoming #Posts like this already exist but I wanted my turn to speculate

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catscidr · 11 months ago

Note

Could you make a scenario with sick reader and Yandere doctor please 😭

need him to walk into my room in a nurse outfit and take care of me when i get sick... but Alas he's not real... woe is me(༎ຶ⌑༎ຶ)..... WHATEVER i can always write about him anyways so im WINNING EITHER WAY...... (inhales copium) ⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝⸝ cw: yandere dottore, he's a little overbearing, reader has a cold. that's pretty much it (lmk if i missed anything!) includes: gn reader, dottore, iota (youngest segment) wc: 1,3k

Ooohhhh he would be mad. Not in an explosive way, but in a “I’m not mad, just disappointed” way except he IS mad, he’s just really good at keeping his emotions under wraps. You know this, too. He made sure that you did.

It didn’t matter what kind of illness you came down with; a common cold, the flu, something worse? He’s freakishly good at reading you, and he didn’t need to hear you blowing your nose or sniffling every other second to know you had gotten sick. The skin around your nose blossoming into a darker, reddish tone and your eyelids drooping just a bit lower than usual was enough for him to know you weren’t telling him something you should have.

It also didn’t matter if you didn’t even see him- he had eyes everywhere, quite literally. It was rare for you to be anywhere in the palace or the lab without one of his clones attached to your hip, whether it be a younger clone tagging along to do something more interesting than breaking open a ruin guard, or an older clone staying by your side, taking a break from work to enjoy your company.

So, of course, even if the doctor happened to be especially busy when you suddenly caught a cold, you’d still be stuck with him being the equivalent to a mother hen because of how seriously he took your health.

Usually you didn’t mind his attention, you’d even bask in it, but this time you couldn’t stand it. Your state had been manageable for the past two days and, thankfully, Prime and his clones were none the wiser to your nose overproducing snot nor the way your eyes had more crust around them when you woke up in the morning. But you feared that today would be the day he’d catch you and promote you to being his bedwarmer- literally. Last time you got sick and went to him for help you felt like you were in urgent care, forced to stay in his bed, having at least two of his segments stay with you 24/7, making you eat four meals a day despite your lack of appetite and desperate need for sleep.

You could insist all you want that you were fine, that you just needed to vegetate in bed for a day or two and you’d be back on your feet in no time, but no, he refused to have any of it. He’d ask who’s the doctor here? in the same condescending voice he used whenever one of his lackeys displeased him (and you’d reply with you didn’t even graduate if you weren’t so tired), and then would throw you over his shoulder to bring you to his spotless bedroom so you could rest while he keeps an eye on you.

The one thing you were happy about was how Dottore wasn’t prone to blatant violence. Nothing physical, at least. When needed, he would slip medication into your water to help you sleep, would graciously lift your sleeve to give you a shot while you were knocked out cold and give you special medicine to make sure you had all the vitamins you needed. He wouldn’t do any of that if you had cooperated with him in the first place, though; so, you couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him. At least not for long.

Like clockwork, you were currently going through that same order of events.

In retrospect, it was a bad idea to indulge Iota and go out in the snow to make a snowman with him- but how could you resist him! The lab could feel so stuffy as it was, and the additional smell of blood covered up by strong cleaning agents only did so little to help you resist his pleas. So, you grabbed Dottore’s Harbinger coat and got yourself dragged outside by the small but mighty youngest segment as he eagerly talked your ear off about having a snowball fight, making a myriad of snow angels and other winter activities you weren’t familiar with.

After getting absolutely pelted with snow (Iota was good at snowball fights, surprisingly) you hung up Dottore’s coat to dry and made your way to the bathroom to wipe off any snow and water that had gotten on your skin despite the large, fluffy cloak you wore. Iota waved you off with a boyish grin and a taunting better luck next time! as you watched him saunter off into the direction of his creator’s lab. Your fingertips felt cold but as you dried your skin thoroughly you felt your body gradually warm up, and that was enough for your standards.

Placing the towel on a rack to dry, you then headed over to your room to relax your aching muscles after the remarkably intense snowball fight. You laid down underneath the covers, grateful to be able to take a nap. However, when you awoke about two hours later, you thought you felt your arms weighed even more than before, and your head throbbed an ache that wasn’t there previously. And surely, a day later, you find yourself sneakily throwing away your used tissues somewhere that Dottore won't find them, else he subjects you to his overbearing methods of... curing you.

You did your best to make your footsteps as careful and light as possible, lowering the chances of one of them finding you with a trash bag full of snot-filled tissues. Unfortunately for you though, maybe you should have worn something other than pyjamas because, as luck had it, although a segment hasn’t seen your physical state, a patrolling agent did.

He spoke into a walkie-talkie quietly enough that your ears didn’t pick up the sound of his voice and, as you're about to step outside to throw the trash bag out, you feel a hand on your shoulder. A cold, gloved hand that you could recognize anywhere with your eyes closed. You halt your movements as the (not so) mysterious figure behind you stays silent, waiting for you to say something first.

Your shoulders slump forward in defeat, and you sniffle. “I don’t wanna be locked up in your room again,” you say quietly, voice slightly slurred from your cold. He scoffs, his hand squeezing your shoulder gently enough for it to be comforting. “Maybe if you didn’t try to go outside while having a cold I would reevaluate your options,” he sighs. “Alas, you leave me no choice. What were you thinking?” Dottore turns you around and frowns, tilting his head to the side. If you were anyone else you would have been dead where you stood, but here you are; wearing one of his old shirts and a loose pair of sweatpants, one of your hands gripping a trash bag, and the other wiping your nose. You stand awkwardly, looking away sheepishly, not particularly enjoying being caught red-handed like this.

“It would be unhygienic to keep all of those used tissues in my room,” you respond with a nonchalant shrug. He holds back the urge to sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose, mask lifting just a tad from the action, and exhales slowly. You would be the death of him eventually, he thought tiredly.

Dottore bends down low enough to grab the bag from your hands and looks over his shoulder, tossing it to a poor unsuspecting fatui soldier. The soldier in question stumbles back slightly, just barely keeping themselves from tripping over, as Dottore signals for them to throw it away themselves. You don’t have the time to speak up before the person scurries away.

“Next time don’t be so obvious,” he says quietly enough that only you can hear him. He bends his torso forward slightly, holding his face leveled with yours. “And next time you decide to get sick,” he begins with a raspy tone, holding your chin up with his palm, “come to me immediately. Lest you want me to wrestle you into my room again.”

You’d be blushing if you didn’t know what was going to happen. Dottore straightens his back and outstretches his hand to you, looking at you from below his mask. Defeated, you interlace your fingers with his and jut your lip out as you hold back the urge to whine. A small smile graces his face as he guides you back to the lab.

#୧ ‧₊˚orderup!#genshin x reader #genshin x you #dottore x reader #dottore x you #dottore x gn reader #il dottore x y/n #il dottore x you #il dottore x gn reader #il dottore x reader

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brendaareiss · 3 months ago

Note

any caldre fluff hcs for when one of them is sick?

SICK CALDRE HEADCANONS!

I hope these are good enough!

-Cal

So, Cal gets sick pretty easily. He's the kind of person to always be sick, but never something that serious. He always catches stupid colds here and there, winter is truly hell for him. He has the worst immune system, due to the lack of real nutrients in his body (he basically just eats chicken tenders bro tf). So, Andre is used to it.

- Andre everytime Cal doesn't go to school, he comes to his house afterwards to basically check on him.

- He cleans Cal's room and does his laundry. Of course he makes Cal REAL food that most of the time, Cal absolutely hates, but he's forced to eat it anyways.

- He very rarely gives Cal any sort of pill, because he freaks out everytime Cal is in contact with those. But he gives him painkillers sometimes, when he's sick sick

- Cal is a lot more clingy than usual when he's sick. Andre wishes he could say he hates it, but he truly doesn't. He loves having Cal laying on top of him or holding him, running his fingers through Cal's hair or caressing his back, giving him pecks on his forehead and shoulders. Even if andre is in the furthest spot on the house, Cal would crawl to his arms, saying something like: "my head hurts.." or "my throat is sore..".

- Andre is initially very bratty about kissing Cal while he's sick, but he can't resist. By the end of the day, their lips are glued together. Andre hardly ever catches anything Cal has, so it's okay. He doesn't really care though, he just acts like he does

- The only time Andre really freaks out is when Cal starts gagging out of nowhere. He runs to the kitchen to bring a bowl or whatever he can find, he desperately looks for a plastic bag in Cal's room or directly grabbing Cal's hair and yanking him to the bathroom. He freaks out because, if Cal pukes, he's vomiting all of the real food andre gave him, leaving him with nothing inside, which means he won't get better any soon. But when Cal has to puke, of course Andre is gently grabbing his hair, giving him a glass of water afterwards and even brushing Cal's teeth.

- Andre basically stays in Cal's house until Cal is better. At this point, Andre takes more care of him than his own mom 😭

- Andre brings stupid little things Cal's been wanting to make him feel better/happier. A dumb little pocket knife Cal has mentioned before? Andre buys it and brings it to Cal when he's sick. Some of Andre's lighters that Cal said that he really liked? Andre gives them to Cal. Anything to make him feel better

- Andre doesn't smoke or drink when Cal is sick. He knows full well that Cal doesn't care and can't even smell it, but he feels bad when he does it. Like he is doing something wrong.

- Cal's siblings get really jealous. Frederick (I think that's Cal's younger brother's name, correct me if I'm wrong 🙏) gets jealous because he really likes Andre, and when Andre stays at the Gabriel's because Cal is sick, he basically doesn't get out of Cal's room. And when Frederick wants to go inside of Cal's room to spend time with his best bro (andre), his mom won't let him or Cal will kick him out of the room. Cassie (Cal's younger sister) on the other hand, gets jealous because she HATES andre with all her guts. When Andre's is staying at the Gabriel's because of Cal's sickness, she can't spend time with her sweet dear brother (by spending time I mean Cassie putting makeup on Cal's face and giving him all sort of hairstyles). So when she tries to get inside Cal's room, her mom won't let her or Cal, of course, will kick her out.

-Andre

So... When Andre gets sick, contrary to Cal, it's serious (haha zero day haha). He doesn't catch stupid colds or just a slightly headache, he only catches the WORST stomach aches and he has the WORST migraines. Cal is terrified every time that happens, because he doesn't really know how to act or what to do, so he really tries his best.

-Cal usually imitates what Andre does for him when he's sick when Andre's sick. Well, at least he tries

- When Andre can't go to school because he's sick, Cal always doesn't go either. He fully stays in Andre's room until he's better

- Cal always makes sure that the room is as darkest and quieter as possible

- contrary to Andre, Cal brings all the pills Andre has in his house. He doesn't know which one does what, so he just brings all of them.

-Cal is always running his fingers through Andre's hair, trying to soothe his migraines. Same goes when Andre has a rlly bad stomach ache, Cal would unconsciously start giving him belly rubs.

- By the way, when a stomach ache is the case, Andre is really freaked out, because some of them are contagious. So, if Cal is already dying with a dumb little cold he catched because of the temperature change, imagine if he catched the kind of things andre catches.

- Following by this, Andre doesn't really let Cal kiss him when he's sick. Even if he has only a migraine. He doesn't like having to kiss someone while sick, so he would just basically order Cal to not kiss him on the mouth. Cal would end up kissing the top of Andre's head gently and his neck.

- so, Cal doesn't know ANYTHING about cooking, so, he would just bring the food that Andre's mom made to Andre's room.

- Mel would sometimes be kicked out of Andre's room. When Andre has migraines, it pisses him off hearing the constant noise of Mel's collar and watching/feeling her running around his room or getting inside of things where she shouldn't (his drawers, for example). She also steps on Andre's stomach when Andre has stomach aches, so yeah. Cal would sometimes just get her collar of off her and letting her walk around Andre's room, or, just kicking her out

- Of course, andre is a lot more bossy and pissy when he's sick. Cal doesn't really care though

- Cal is basically like a doll when Andre's sick. Letting him hug him and cuddle with him whenever Andre wants and in whatever position Andre wants, it doesn't matter if it's uncomfortable. Cal is too worried abt Andre to think about being comfortable. But they usually cuddle in the big spoon/little spoon position (Cal being the little spoon) and Andre laying on top of Cal.

- Cal tries to stay as quiet as possible or talk as softly as he can (YOU KNOW WHEN IN THE MOVIE, HE SAYS THIS TO MEL: "don't tell dad, okay"? SO THAT'S HOW HE TALKS TO ANDRE WHEN HE'S SICK 😭) because he knows, most of the time Andre's head hurts more only by hearing noises (fucking migraines). He doesn't even try to make Andre laugh, that would be worse, because when Andre is sick it basically hurts to laugh

- All of their day is basically Andre laying on top of Cal. Cal with his legs wrapped around Andre, running his fingers through his hair and giving him gentle pecks on his forehead and the top of his head. When Andre has a stomach ache, just add "watching a random movie" to what I said before

#FINALLY! FLUFF!#cal gabriel #zero day #zero day 2003 #calvin gabriel #caldre #zero day movie #zeroday #andre kriegman #zd 2003

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seenoversundown · 8 months ago

Text

For Death Or Glory : Chapter One

Jake x Charlotte (Fem OC)

Warnings: Anxious theme, Bickering, Brotherly Taunting, Uncomfortable situations, Yearning (oh the yearning) Smoking, Alcohol (it's a bar- feels self explanatory but just for safety) Shitty dad jokes, and silly goofy boy time!

Word Count: 3k

Summary: Jake has spent most of his 20's single or just random dates here and there. Unfortunately for him, his brothers and their partners are all on board for trying to find him the love of his life.

Author's Note: hehe hi :) I couldn't resist any longer. I hope you love Jake as much as I do.

Beggars Song - Matt Maeson "Oh yeah, I'm a beat down, washed up, son of a bitch, I got one more cigarette and all my money is spent, but I'ma Be damned if I let it keep me down."

The soft ‘click’ of the door latching behind me as I sneak out of Willa and Quinn’s apartment. It stopped snowing a few hours ago, so the plows have had time to take care of the roads. Hopefully, they could get out of there quickly enough to make it home. I can’t be shocked that we all got roped into a slumber party, especially with Josh involved. I honestly didn’t even mind it; sometimes, spending time with everyone is nice, not in the bar. My heart was whole, watching everyone laugh and smile together.

Their apartment complex wasn’t too far from the bar, but I don’t trust the roads enough to drive the speed limit.

‘Oh, what a night,

Late December back in ‘63..’

“Oooh, this one hits,” I say as the song fills the car. Turning the volume, I tap along on my steering wheel. Taking my time, I can appreciate how the snow softly coats the trees, which kind of makes up for the lack of leaves. The sun feels extra bright today, bouncing off all the snow piles and practically making the ground light up.

‘What a lady, what a night.’

“Oh, I, I got a funny feeling when she walked in the room,” I quietly sing along. I’ve always been a little partial to the “oldies” as they say on the radio, but I grew up listening to all of it. Maybe I’m just a sucker for nostalgia.

Pulling into my usual spot, ‘Oh, what a night,’ I sit for a second, contemplating whether I should run upstairs real quick or go into the bar. I probably should at least change. I’ve been in these clothes for almost twenty-four hours.

As fast as I can, without busting my ass on the ice, I walk to the stairwell. It’s unfortunately not the most insulated, so I hustle upstairs; the first chilly days always catch you off guard. The warmth hits me when I get into the apartment, my body letting out one last shiver, shaking the chill from outside off.

After finding a clean button-up and switching into new pants, I feel like a new human. I take a few minutes to brush my teeth, spray myself with some cologne, and then make a cup of coffee. The warm drink on a cold day routine never misses. I scroll through my emails while waiting for my coffee to finish brewing before heading to the bar.

The brisk air has me running down the stairs, fumbling with my keys to unlock the back door to the bar. I quickly turn the keys, hearing the heavy ‘clunk’ of the deadbolt flipping over. I scoot myself inside, pulling the door shut behind me while letting out another shiver.

My body freezes when I hear sounds coming from the actual bar. Jesus Christ, NO. My heart rate spikes as I creep down the hallway, not wanting to give myself away. As if whoever or whatever is in here didn’t hear the door, you dumbass. I still can’t see out into the bar, but the faint sounds are becoming much less muffled as I get closer.

“Fuck, what do we do?”

“Just get dressed, baby. Go, go, go.”

Is that Danny? I take a few more steps before finally seeing his tall figure standing shirtless near one of the end booths. He’s clearly buttoning his pants when I see a pair of smaller arms reach out behind him. Oh my god, Melody. I watch as he fumbles around, trying to flip his shirt from inside out, when he turns around and locks eyes with me. I can see any ounce of life drain from his face from a mile away.

We stare at each other for what feels like an eternity. Still, it is realistically ten seconds before I spit out the only question I can manage to think of, “What the fuck is going on?”

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“Jake, really, I’m so sorry,” Dan is about to plead his case now.

Looking at him, I take a deep breath, knowing he genuinely feels terrible about this. “It’s fine,” I say, touching his arm.

“I will just take the day to really clean the bar, I suppose,” letting the smile sneak onto my face to ease the tension.

He lets a small laugh, “I’ll help since it’s my bad anyway.”

“Oh god,” I let slip. That was supposed to be an inside thought, but here we are.

“What?”

I silently point to the camera behind the bar. I won’t lie: Watching the emotions cycle through his face wasn’t a little funny. Melody looked wide-eyed as the realization hit her as well.

“Oh shit, oh my god,”

“You quite literally helped me install them,” I let out an uncomfortable laugh, “I don’t know how you forgot.”

He runs both hands over his face before finally asking, “Can we just.. delete that.. ALL of that..please?” His voice is coated in desperation as he keeps looking over at Melody.

“I’m certainly not going to watch it, Danny.” Relief washes over him as if he really thought I would watch that.

“Let’s agree to never bring this up.. again.. Ever?” I cock an eyebrow at him, taking a quick glance at Melody as well. She nods aggressively.

“What are we never bringing up?” Sam’s sing-songy tone radiates through the bar. God damn it.

Josh’s loud voice followed suit, “Oh, I love a good secret!” Of course, he came with Sam.

“That is between you guys and Danny,” I put my hands up, “I have cleaning I need to get done.” I look over to Dan, trying not to laugh. The look on his face is screaming that he knows he’s screwed now that Josh is here. Everybody is about to know his little secret.

“If you need to go for a little bit, do what you need to,” I lean in and whisper to Melody as I pass her. She gives me a thumbs-up and mouths, ‘Thank you,’ as I head down the hall.

“Goodmorning, brother,” Josh’s voice comes from behind me as I grab some cleaning supplies from our storage closet.

“I’m surprised you guys got here this early?”

When I left the apartment, I didn’t think anybody would be moving for quite a while. The few of us in the living room, all sleeping on the makeshift bed we crafted with extra blankets and pillows. Sam dipped at some point in the night to Willa’s bed, what a party pooper.

“I couldn’t fall back to sleep after you left, and I heard Sam moving around,” he tells me, “We figured you could use some help getting the bar situated after last night anyway.” Reaching out to take the broom and dustpan from me.

Surprised that they wanted to help, I quickly said, “Oh, well, thanks bub.” Not that they didn’t usually help out if I asked, but it was a bit more dependent on me asking, which I’m candidly not great at doing.

“So, what exactly needs to be cleaned?” Sam finally caves.

I smile at him, knowing what he’s trying to do, “Let’s just say we’re taking the opportunity to really make sure everything is clean.” Grabbing a rag and some disinfectant to start wiping everything down.

“Well,” he instigates further, “I just didn’t know if there was like a specific booth or something.” He unsuccessfully chokes back a laugh.

Josh quickly cut him off, “I’m sure he asked for specifics,”

I bite my tongue so as not to laugh at the argument that will start. If there’s anything I know, it’s that these two can’t help but start shit with each other.

“It was just a question, Josh.”

“You’re just picking at him for no reason. He said we’re cleaning everything, so just clean.”

“You know why we’re cleaning. That’s why you’re being defensive,” Sam says, his voice rising as he realizes.

Josh gasps dramatically, “You DO listen to your girlfriend. Oh my god, I’m so proud of you!”

“Oh, fuck off,”

Josh laughed loud: “It doesn’t take much to figure out what happened, Samuel. Just use that little brain of yours for a minute, and maybe you’ll piece it together.”

I sit in a booth to wipe the table down, just listening to them go back and forth. Josh isn’t wrong.. If he really did just stop to think about it, he would figure it out. Or, literally, just ask Danny. I never said he couldn’t ask him.

“I’m not that stupid, I know that-” Sam starts but immediately stops when he sees Danny walk back in.

“What are we yelling about?”

“The two of them are bickering about why we’re cleaning,” I say plainly, with my eyebrows raised and a tight-lipped smile.

His eyes widen, clearing his throat before saying, “Yeah, uh, people were a bit frantic last night trying to get out of here when the storm started, and we also didn’t want to get stuck too long, so we just.. didn’t have time to clean.” He couldn’t be worse at lying, but I think Sam will let it slide because of how uncomfortable he looks right now.

“Now, why couldn’t you just say that?” Sam turns, looking back over at Josh. Jesus Christ, here we go.

“Because that’s obviously not the reason, they clearly–”

“Good morning, Krusty Krew!” Quinn sings through the bar, thank god.

“Did we interrupt something?” Willa asks through a laugh.

“Yes, thank you,” I speak before the other two can.

It’s fun to watch as they both make their way over to their respective partners. Josh and Quinn always seem like they haven’t seen each other in years, even if it’s only been 20 minutes. The way they just curl into each other at any given moment. And then there’s Sam and Willa. Her laugh radiates through a room whenever Sam is around; they constantly pick on each other about something. He presses a kiss to the side of her head before she starts to walk away, but not before he swats at her ass, and she flips him off. She’s a saint for putting up with him.

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I listened to everyone’s chatter until Josh and Sam started bickering again. I motion to Danny to say that I’m going outside for a minute before grabbing a cigarette from my office. Walking out the back door in the crisp air, I pull out my lighter and try to beat the wind. That first inhale is always the most rewarding. I told myself when I left the shipyard that I would cut back; the guys I worked with were heavy smokers, and it’s easy to fall into that trap. Now, I settle for one a day, and honestly, some days, I don’t bother; I find that when I’m stressed, I tend to go for it, but I’ve stuck to my guns and not gone back to smoking aggressively.

I walk across the street, finding my usual spot to watch the boats slowly sail out to the ocean. I like to come here when I need a moment. I’m unsure why I’m feeling more anxious today than usual, but my chest feels heavy. Why do I feel so alone?

It’s not that I can’t be alone. I obviously have made it this long without someone; I have just spent the last two years watching everyone close to me find love. I never really feel lonely because they are all part of the family at this point, but I do have days where I can’t help but be almost..jealous. My mind keeps wandering as I take another drag. Is there something I’m doing that just makes me not worthy of dating? I’ve never understood why, out of all the dates I’ve been on in the last handful of years, none of them have worked out. God, I sound so pathetic.

I enjoy the last moments of my smoke break, forcing myself to focus on the boat coming into the dock. I can’t seem bothered when I go inside, or they’ll notice.

Finally, making my way back inside, I see Josh and Quinn in one booth and Sam with Willa in another. They don’t seem to notice that I’ve snuck back in, so I just spend some time cleaning up and organizing behind the bar while there’s nobody to actually tend to.

I start mindlessly wiping down the wine glasses, trying to make them as clean as possible. Josh and Quinn are in my line of sight; it’s hard not to notice how in love they are. Always sitting on the same side of any table, whether it’s a booth or a typical table setting, they’re attached at the hip. They’re always touching. Whether it’s just sitting close enough, one of them can move their leg closer, or right now, where Quinn is just tracing their finger along his jawline and down the bridge of his nose. They lean in, pressing a kiss to his nose before he tugs them in quickly for a real kiss. This is dreadful. I really can’t remember the last time I kissed someone. Am I that touch starved that I’m jealous of my brother? The squeak from the glass reminds me where I am. I shake my head, putting it back in its place and grabbing a new glass.

I glance over to the other booth; Willa has her head propped up in her hand as she looks at my brother. Even though they instigate each other most often, it’s always with love. She has a soft smile plastered on her face as she nods to whatever he’s saying. Running his hand down her forearm every so often, it’s weird seeing Sam so.. domestic? Willa really is perfect for him, though. I knew the moment she put him in his place while on a date with SOMEONE ELSE. How she looks at him like he’s the greatest thing ever created is incredibly sweet. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but I can see the way her eyes light up before she calls him ‘babe.’ I put the last glass back in place, tossing the towel under the bar.

I think I have scrubbed every inch of this bar today, I think to myself, leaning into my hand. The music is lower since there’s nobody here, and everybody is currently preoccupied. I let my mind wander for a minute.

The feeling of being so excited to see someone that your heart flutters. Being able to just hold someone close. God, getting to kiss them endlessly— nothing is better than that. Feeling them smile at you, ugh. Being so wrapped up in each other, pulling her into your lap so you can just have her as close as possible. Someone to call sweet things and have them call me ‘babe.’ Fuck me. I need a wife. Can I just skip to the being in love part? I don’t want to waste my time on girls who will just leave after a couple of months. I just want to fall helplessly in love and spend every day making sure they feel the same.

“Jake?” Sam loudly says, waving his hand in front of me.

My body jumps involuntarily, “For fucks sake.”

“Good daydream, huh?” Josh teases. I fight the warm feeling creeping into my face, rolling my eyes subtly.

“What do you guys want?”

“Will you make us drinks, please?” Josh asks, trying to recover from his taunting.

“Quinn and Willa too?” I double-check as I’m grabbing glasses. They both nod in sync.

I kept letting out little sighs, which, to be fair, I didn’t think were that obvious. Turning and setting one of the drinks in front of them, my eyebrows pulled together.

“Why do you look so angry?” Sam asks.

“I’m not?” I quip back. Unfortunately, it didn’t come out as convincing as I would have liked.

“I really think you just need to get laid or something, Jake,” Josh laughs out, “you need someone to take the edge off!” he laughs, nudging Sam with his elbow. You’re telling me.

“When do I have the time, Josh? Come on,” I can’t help the attitude that comes out, but given the day I’ve had so far— getting harassed for not getting laid is not helping.

“Honestly, you just seem tense lately,” Sam pipes up, “maybe if you actually flirted with one of the pretty girls who comes in, you could get off once in a while.” Josh barks out a laugh towards Sam, but I see Dan pointing in our direction as I listen to my personal peanut gallery giggle.

Rolling my eyes at them as they keep egging each other on, “Trust me, I’d love for my wife to walk through those doors, but I don’t see that happening.”

I turn to finish making drinks for the boys, trying to ignore them, squawking about my lack of sex life. As I set out a few glasses on the counter, I heard a lower, raspy female voice ring behind me, “Could I speak with Mr. Kiszka?”

I turn around to a petite redhead dressed very professionally. Her button-up was a pale yellow, tucked into some grayish-blue slacks. Her hair curled perfectly, and her dark red lips stood out against her pale complexion.

“Which one?” we all answer in unison.

She flips open her folder, looking at whatever papers are in there, and I can’t seem to look away from her. She’s … so hot?

“Um, Jacob Kiszka, I’m sorry.”

She looks up at me, making direct eye contact. Green. Her eyes are green.

I manage to muster up the ability to ask, “What do you need from me, dear?” Dear? Am I ninety? The sounds of my brother’s giggling prevented any level of silence between us.

“Well, I’m sorry to do this to you randomly, Mr. Kiszka,” she says confidently; her voice is so pretty.“Mr. Kiszka is our father. Please call me Jake,” I say, trying to lighten the mood as I extend my arm out to shake her hand across the bar. It feels like a small jolt to my heart as her hand firmly grabs mine, and she tells me, “Charlotte Rhodes.”

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Chapter Two

FDOG Masterpost | Masterlist | Prologue | FDOG Playlist

If you ask nicely, I may be so inclined to drop Chapter 2 sooner than next Thursday .. is all i'm going to say. 🤭

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mioumiau · 5 months ago

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vodnik!Emil Kladivo x male!ghost!reader

Sub!Emil, Dom!Male!Reader, mirror sex, ghost sex, dirty talk (?) —//— English is not my first language and this is my first time writing, I may have used some words wrong 😭

Reader is a ghost who recently lost his life, now you are in front of the vodnik's toy shop admiring his handmade dolls meant to serve as a new body for the restless spirits who wander the world.

Emil looks up from his current work, noticing the ghostly figure standing by his shop, he sets his tools aside and approaches the ethereal being. As he's getting closer, you can't help but admire his exquisite green eyes, green hair, and… Nevermind, everything is green about him.

"Ah, a lost soul seeking refuge in a physical form… Come, let me prepare a suitable body for you." His voice is as soothing as a lullaby, matching the calm and composed man he is.

You walk into the shop, determined to get what you've been longing for.

"I am looking for one with the most stunning dark hair you got, something similar to the one I owned before death got the best of me."

You were always fond of your own appearance, and even though you don't look as good as you did alive, you want to reclaim the beauty you lost to the worms that had nibbled on your cold body.

He carefully selects a doll, crafted with intricate details and delicate features. This one has long, dark locks cascading down its back, just like the ghost had described.

"Ah, here it is… Seems like I got just the right doll for you."

Your eyes scan through the doll, admiring every detail.

"Actually, this is better than I imagined… It must be expensive, am I right?"

He chuckles — "I trade the dolls for materials and some records, if you can bring me some."

"Don't you take money?"

"There is no use of money if I can't spend it, I cannot take the risk on being attacked by feral humans on my way to the city."

"I see…" — You nod — "I suppose I should come back another time, I lack of the materials you need at the moment."

The vodnik's gaze meets yours, a kind smile flashes on his face.

"No, no, that won't be necessary." — He pauses — "I sense your sincerity and desperation. I'll delay the fee this time, dear spirit."

"It is not correct of me to leave without offering you something in return, Mr. Kladivo."

The older tilts his head as his eyes soften, and chuckles — "Oh, it's alright. And you don't owe me anything, but if you insist…"

Emil clings weakly to the mirror in front of him, your hands wander through his chest to his tighs. His moans are barely audible as you pepper kisses and ocasionally nibble around his neck.

His head feels light, only wondering how did you manage to get him in such a lewd position; Yet, the feeling of your fingers poking his entrance was enough to distract him from any thought forming on his mind.

"You're just so perfect, I couldn't resist…" — Emil whimpers at your comment — "Egocentric people are more likely to become ghosts in the end, surely you understand."

Emil turns his face away from the mirror, only for you to direct his face and make him look at his flustered reflection again. The spirit's cold touch against his bare skin only intensifies his arousal, as does the mirror reflecting every moment of his submission.

"N-no more… i-it's embarrassing…" — He whines —

"Is it really? Aw… Then I must be wrong about your erection down here…"

His reflection's whines turn into choked gasps as he feels the ghost's cold fingers wrap around its hard length. The mirror reflects Emil's face, his eyes squeezed shut as the ghost begins to stroke him.

"I- I can't… Ng-hhh~♡"

He arches his back, and lets out a muffled moan as cold, slick fingers begin to stretch his hole. Emil's face is buried in his arms, his body shaking, and completely helpless to the ghost's manipulations. His body convulses, and his legs try to close, only to be forcefully held open. The vodnik lets out a choked, desperate cry, his body feeling hot, in contrast with the cold touch on both his most private parts.

"N-no… it's too much… Feels too much~♡"

"Please, let me show my gratitute by making you feel good, Mr. Kladivo."

His body tenses, and lets out an embarrassed whine. He can feel the hard pressure against his thigh, and aknowledges that it's the ghost's private part, only serves to heighten his arousal.

"P-please…" — He pleads, then you lift him up by his tighs — "O-oh?!"

The vodnik is surprised by how easy you picked him up — How did you do that?

His legs touching his chest, body heavy and helpless as he's lifted up and penetrated from behind. Emil's reflection lets out a series of loud, desperate moans, his body jerking with each powerful thrust. "Ngghh… I-it's too dEep… (Y/N)~♡OH MY~"

Emil's face is a mask of pure pleasure, his mouth open in a soundless scream, tears streaming down its cheeks. Since your ghostly form doesn't reflect on mirrors, Emil can only see his own body convulsing with each thrust, being split open by apparently nothing.

His mouth is forced open, and a cold, invasive tongue slips inside, silencing his desperate cries. The older can do nothing but accept the kiss, his body convulsing with each pounding from behind. "Mmphhh…" He blushes at the wet sound you two make while kissing.

As the ghost continues to pound into him, Emil slowly relaxes, his eyes fluttering shut, mouth hanging open, panting with each breath.

His body grows heavier as he slowly gives in to the sensation and comes closer to his orgasm.

"Nhh… nhh… N-no… I'm gonna…! DON'T SToP~!! ♡"

"How could I stop? Hearing those sweet noises you make…" — You pause only to kiss him again — "I want to keep hearing your voice…"

Emil lets out a final cry as he finally reaches his climax, staining the mirror with his semen. His limbs go limp, and he hangs helplessly in the ghost's embrace, completely spent.

The ghost's hold tightens, and with a final, powerful thrust, buries himself inside Emil's warm walls. The room grows cold, and an icy chill runs down Emil's spine as he feels the ghost's release, he looks at his reflection to see his hole gaping wide open, dripping with fluid.

Emil blinks dazedly, looking at his reflection in the mirror, seeing the mess he's in. He slowly turns around, and you take the chance to shower him in kisses♡

—//—

For context: Misadventures Of Laura Silver is a game about two detectives (Laura and Orewell) who investigate paranormal cases, and a vodnik (Emil) happened to be on their list. I don't think the game is well known, but I wanted to write something for this man🥹 For more context, Emil is this silly guy right here:

⚠️ I really don't know if the creators have anything against using their characters to write this kind of stuff, I'll imediatly delete the post if there's anything wrong!😭🙏

#dom male reader #top male reader #male reader #sub character #emil kladivo #misadventures of laura silver

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neteyamslovrr · 2 years ago

Text

RETURN - PT3

summary: five years ago he left you. left you alone with nothing but memories of your love. so how dare he come back now?

contents: 2.8k words, depression, angst, slight conflict, not very well proof read but that brings authenticity lmao

authors note: thankyou all for being so patient with my upload <33 ALSO LOOK AT WHAT MY BAE @cinetrix made omg (its the header pic) THATS GROWN UP NETEYAM THATS OUR BABY hes so handsome and bae is so talented and kind

previous / next

It had been over a month since they Sully’s had returned to the clan. While they slid back into their forest way of life, like a lost puzzle piece that was finally found you felt like you were back to being a bunch on scrambled up pieces with no way to connect yourself back together again.

Seeing him was a constant reminder of the despair that took over your life for years. The rotted you from the inside out leaving you as a shell of a woman as he took your soul with him when he left.

Those closest to you noticed your decline. Especially Mo’at. Someone you had to start seeing regularly due to your mothers pestering.

“Child…it is not hard to see the way your spirit has left you.” She spoke softly yet with so much truth it felt as is she had stabbed you with a dagger.

You were sat on the floor of her large medical tent that was set up in High camp. It was cold, the cool breeze making the fine hairs in your body stand up as you consciously avoided any gaze that Mo’at threw at you.

“He took it with him.” It felt like a deep dark secret that you had ripped out of your throat as it sliced its way up. Admitting that Neteyam had broken you so much that he had managed to start cracking you away with his return made you feel weak. Made you feel defeated.

“Maybe…he is here to give it back.” Mo’at sighed softly, a kind hand pushing your hair out of your face as she crouched in front of you. “Dear child your heart cries out. You must listen when your body talks to you.”

“I am afraid, so afraid.” Mo’at nodded letting you fall into her arms, a much needed hug that you craved for.

“Fear is never unreasonable child, but do not let cowardice infect your heart like it infected his.”

Neteyam had desperately tried to even get you to look at him after the last time you both conversed. It ended in him running away. As soon as he walked off he wished he could have socked Va’tep. Knocked him hard enough that his grubby paws would never caress your precious skin ever again.

He would try and talk to you only to be shut down by a harsh glare or excuse to leave. However whenever he even entered the same room as you he would immediately watch you excuse yourself and leave.

And Eywa did it crush him. To see how opposed he was to your presence. To see how his face repulsed you so much. He knew it was naïve to think he could return to you running into his arms so he could spin you around and hold you close. It was stupid for him to think you would ever wait for him. Not when he abandoned you.

A habit he had as a child was always to go to his grandmother for wisdom. Something he had sorely lacked the past half decade. He knew you were close with her. He knew she was the wisest woman this tribe had. But he was also terrified of a reality check that would hit him so harshly he wouldn’t know how to react. That’s why he was so resistant on approaching Mo’at.

But when he looked over to the top levels of High Camp where you and Va’tep had sat yourselves as you weaved expertly. He saw the way Va’tep’s smile was not as wide as it could be, he noticed that your eyes never met his even as you talked. He stared closely, squinting his eyes to focus on how Va’tep’s hands would crawl up your thigh and your body would stiffen and squirm instead on relaxing into the touch. As if his hands were grating your perfect skin.

When he saw how miserable you were when you looked away from Va’tep to wipe your eyes subtly. His heart sunk. He could not go on without you, he couldn’t continue without being able to get you back.

Neteyam hesitantly opened the curtains of his grandmother’s tent as he sucked in a nervous breath.

Her ears perked up immediately to the sound. “Neteyam…I expected you sooner child.” Her eyes were always sharp, enough to slice the strongest man in half.

Neteyam let out a soft chuckle. “I assume you know why I am here.” He sat beside her, shuffling awkwardly on the mat so he could watch his grandmother mush together fine pastes that turned into her medicines .

“Is she troubling your mind?” Even the mention of your cut his soul, like a sweet melody that sudden struck the wrong chord.

“Grandmother… I know I messed up. I know I abandoned her… if I could take back everything I did, I would in a heartbeat.” His voice was pained, head hung low in shame. “I just… I just want her back.”

Mo’at nodded as she laid an empathetic hand on his back. “You must give her time…”

“But I have already been here for so long! I know I was gone for so…so long but I thought she may have at least… warmed up to me slightly. I don’t expect her to change completely. I just want to be able to talk to her, look into her eyes. I miss the warmth I felt when I saw her smile…I never see her smile anymore.”

Neteyam tried desperately not to cry, but oh how difficult it was when he felt the weight of your absence lay so heavily on his chest.

Mo’at let out a sigh, one that felt heavy, one that changed the atmosphere as she exhaled. “She is scared child. She was…she was gone once you left. Your absence was sorely missed, but it truly broke her. There was nothing left of her when you left.”

Neteyam said nothing, though his eyes begged for some sort of explanation, his pupils pleaded as his entire focus was centred on the words exiting his grandmother’s mouth.

Mo’at sucked in a sharp breath, repeating your despair was always hard, to think you experienced such depression. “The day you left she didn’t stop crying. For days she replaced the strongest waterfall in the forest. Her sobs racked through the village as she cried your name out. She screamed it in her sleep, she sobbed it as she woke. She was completely broken. But that was not the worst of it.”

Neteyam already felt his heart sinking. It floated down as he thought more about the anguish he had caused you. His ears hung low in shame as he attentively listen as Mo’at continued to speak.

“It was after the tears. The acceptance. The betrayal. She was no longer her, she was a shell, a corpse. The poor child…she didn’t move for months. No one could get her to leave her hammock, she laid there for days, she didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, didn’t speak. She was nothing.”

Neteyam let out a whimper. One that tried to cover up the sob that was aching to escape him. Guilt racked through him as he could barely look in Mo’at’s eyes as she continued to speak.

“Some days I look back and remember the state she was in, the way her body was so frail, so weak. She was so sick, riddled with the disease of heartbreak. My child I know you left her here because it was safe. Child I know you thought were saving your lover. But Neteyam…she does not want to remember her anguish, but every time she looks at you she is remembered of those times.”

“What could I possibly do” His voice is raspy and quiet. Barely able to let out a noise as his throat betrays him.

“Create new memories, let her remember new days with you, why she loved you so much. Enable her to let go of the sadness she holds in her heart that filled in the place you took from her.”

Neteyam nods. His mind swirling as a million epiphanies hit him at once. There was no way he could ever forgive himself for causing you sorrow, but he only prayed that you would be able to feel enough forgiveness to let him put back the missing puzzle piece in the jigsaw of your heart.

Va’tep was Tarsem’s brother, the Olo’eyktan. So Va’tep was his right hand man, right beside him through every decision and every battle. Which meant as Va’tep’s promised mate, had a large amount of expected participation in war party meeting such as this.

“If we attack from the east we will get a clear shot towards the demons.” Va’tep said as he drew out a map with a stick onto the large plot of dirt that everyone was circled around.

You couldn’t help but notice the flaws in his plan. East was directly in front of the base the demons had there. While we would have clear a view…there would be significantly more danger.

“Va’tep…I think we should maybe approach it from the south.” You hated speaking up in these meetings, as all the warriors’ beady eyes locked onto you. It made you queasy, as if you were going to spew instead of saying the words you were thinking.

Va’tep’s eyes sharpen as he looks as if you had slapped him across the face with your suggestion. “The south has many sight obstacles…it will be harder to navigate” His voice was deep, and husky. It was obvious he was starting to fume.

“But the base is right there. It would be dangerous to approach that direction!” You raise your voice slightly, only in a way to show how desperate you were to get your point across.

Neteyam watched this interaction closely. Studying every single inch of your body language. He always knew how wise you were when it came to stuff like this. You were always calculating the best solution for anything that may spring up in the battlefield. When Jake was Olo’eyktan, you were one of his greatest assets because of your knowledge.

The back and forth goes on for a while as no other warrior dared to speak up. Until he did. Neteyam of course.

“She’s right…there would be much more danger if we were to take the East route.” As soon as you heard his voice it felt like a spotlight of hope was shun onto your heart.

Va’tep grunted at the unwanted input. “The South route is a cowardice route. Something I guess you can sympathize with.” His words were like venom, scorching Neteyam as he stared daggers into him.

“The East route is brazen, unsafe and uncalculated. Something you definitely can understand. Isn’t that right Va’tep?” Neteyam rarely stooped to a level this low, but with the overhanging threat of you being shut down by your ‘mate’ was enough to make Neteyam seethe.

“I’ll show you something you’ll understand-”

Va’tep fumed as Tarsem decided it was his time to step in, changing the subject and postponing the decision for further analysis. But you didn’t forget the way your heart-beat as Neteyam supported you. Something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Supported.

The day turned to dusk as you sat by the river, kicking your feet in the cool water as you listened to the world around you. Each sound was perfectly tuned together, a perfect song of the world.

You heart-beat is slow, resting on your hands as the dirt meets your soft palms. Your eyes closed to protect themselves from the harsh rays of light that shun down onto your body. It was peaceful, it was calm.

The unfamiliar sound of crunching leaves grew behind you. Ears perked up tail swishing in alert you turn to see Neteyam approaching.

You can’t deny the dread you feel when you see him. And you can’t deny the way your heart beats like crazy whenever you are close enough to see how much he grew. How much he changed.

You wonder if he thought about you. If he ever noticed the changes of your mature figure or if he couldn’t notice if you looked different to how he remembered you.

“Hey you.” His voice was sweet and musky, enough to send shivers down your spine as you refused to meet his golden eyes.

“Hi there.” Your voice was always quiet…but these five years made it dull. As if there was nothing much else for it to be excited about.

“I thought I would find you here.” Your brows moved in curiosity, body facing him as he sat beside you, waving his defined legs in the water.

“Why’s that?”

“This was our river…do you remember.” Oh you remember. How could you forget. This river was the one thing you held into when he left. As you slept on the riverbed pretending the rushing water was his soft voice hushing you to sleep.

“Yes…I do.” Neteyam felt a rush of joy run through him. Maybe it was hope. Hope to get you back. Hope to show just how much you mean to him, that you are his treasure. He let out a soft chuckle, fighting the urge to let his fingers slip over your knuckles. He knew it was too soon.

“You were wise in the meeting today.” He said earnestly, looking at you with nothing but sincerity as he watched a blush form on your face, as you turned away from him. Avoiding his intense stare.

“It was just common sense.” You shrug, trying to not seem flattered. “I am at the meetings for a reason.”

“Well…it was still impressive. Was your mate as impressed?” The subject of Va’tep left a sour taste in his mouth and a sour look on your face.

“Please do not speak of him.” You say defeated. Va’tep was a sore reminder in your mind of how you were nothing but a trophy to your parents. A woman to marry off to gain rank.

You were lucky enough to be fated with Neteyam. But it all crumbled when he left. Everything did. Like an earthquake that broke the foundation of every single building in your soul.

Neteyam gave a curious hum, nodding. “Why not?”

“Neteyam. Stop.” He freezes at the tone of your voice, his mind begging that he did not mess up the harmonious moment you were both sharing together.

“W-What?”

“Neteyam…please have mercy on my heart.” You sucked in a sharp breath as you looked into Neteyams watery eyes. “Please.”

He frowned at your plead. “Have mercy on yourself… please… please have mercy on me. And I will never hurt your heart again.” Neteyam gasps after he talked, his sentence being so vulnerable it took the breath out of him.

“I can’t do this…Neteyam you know I can’t” And oh how you wanted to run away with him. To escape your dull life with Va’tep and be able to freely be who you were. To find yourself once again. But it was all too much, his absence took your hope. But he was adamant on giving it back.

“…We can… trust me. Please we can start over… I know. I know I have hurt you, I have scarred your heart. But on the great mother’s name, I will never leave you again… you were my everything and still are. Please don’t think for second I ever stopped loving you.”

The tears started running down your cheeks, but you barely noticed as you stared into the ripples of the water. His words seeping into your skin like a tender kiss.

“Neteyam I’m afraid.” It was barely a whisper. A soft confession that made your lips quivered. “I’m afraid of losing you and myself again.” Neteyam frowned, his brows furrowed as he took his rough fingers to turn your face towards him. His thumb wiping the tears off delicately.

“you have every right to be afraid… but please let me prove to you… that its okay to let go of your fears. Let me... please.”

And in that moment it was as if a switch flipped in you. Every worry washing away as you felt his warmth once again. The years of built up wishes and cravings for him were finally met. As his gaze melted into you, a sad smile across his face as he held onto you tenderly. Every ounce of love pouring into you.

“…please show me how to let go…”

thankyou so much for reading my lovelies!! reblogs + replies extra appreciated!!

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