#and everyone who did sent me apologies which was so sweet

[cloudcountry]

i love how i come back to twst post about how much i hate idia for a few days and then leave again it's such a cycle

[quixotical-lymbo]

OMG I LOVED YOU ORION PAX FIC (this bot needs more love) can you do an Orion pax x reader, but it’s the reader’s reaction to Orion falling in that hole thingy? (yk at the end of the movie that D-16 dropped him in) like does

1. the reader goes crazy and bets up D-16 ?

2. jumps in after him?

3. cries and says "HE WAS MY FUTURE"

I need to knowwwww (also take some food bc i know you cooking with your fics 🍎🥐🥯🍔🍗🍟🌯🌮) TYY

Pairing: Orion Pax/Optimus Prime x gn!Reader Rating: SFW Summary: What happens when a bot witnesses their conjunx endura die in front of their eyes?  Warnings/Tags: Transformers One SPOILERS, guard!reader, cybertronian reader, mild descriptions of violence. Word Count: 1300+ words 

The first time you met Orion Pax was a blurry moment of rushing figures and yelling. This red and blue bot had a reputation, but you didn't know his designation at the time where you first started your job as a guard. 

Well, you certainly knew all about him, especially after your first run in with the troublemaker making his grand exit through a balcony. Of course, you just had to be making your rounds flying around the perimeter of the building when you were tackled out of the sky and pinned against the rooftop of the neighboring building. Groaning as the mech on top of you sputtered a flurry of apologies. The mech ran away without even offering a servo to help you up. 

The second time the two of you met, you learned his designation from the gossip about a miner always sneaking in and out of government buildings which held old records. You connected the name to the face of the mech you ran into again when patrolling indoors. 

It was…a unique exchange of pleasantries as Orion Pax attempted to sway you out of sounding the alarm. His attempts at distracting you with those flirty glances and sweet words did nothing to stop you from cuffing him and bringing him back to his station.

Over the deca-cycle, the interactions between you two grew warmer as the forced proximity bred an intimacy between you two. 

A conjunx ritus later and the two of you were an odd couple in the optics of Iacon. 

All because you managed to 'catch' the mech of who stole your spark. 

So why couldn't you save your conjunx when he needed you the most? 

It all happened too fast for your mind to react in time, but your frame moved before you could even scream the name out of your conjunx as his battered form dropped into the pit. You rushed forward, cables feeling like they were on fire as you reached a servo out in hopes of grabbing hold of something. Yet, you were too late and Orion was swallowed by the abyss right as something grasped your arms and yanked you away from the edge. 

You struggled to throw them off of you, blurred edges of your vision and the muffled shouts of your name didn't stop you from trying to fly down there—it didn't matter whether or not your spark would extinguish in the process. All that mattered was finding Orion Pax, your best friend, your companion, your everything. 

A voice heavy with grief managed to snap you out of your haze. You glanced over to meet Elita's optics, her face twisted with a pitying look that nearly sent you over the edge–metaphorically and literally. 

"The age of primes has ended....no more false prophets, follow me and you will never again be deceived!"

Cheers broke out from the high guards scattered within the shocked crowd of Iacon's citizens. 

"I will lead us all into the future!" Megatron opened his chassis and replaced the cog in his chest with Megatronus's cog. Purple electrical sparks emitted from his frame as his body transformed into a bulkier form.

"I…am…MEGATRON!" 

"Burn it down…all of it!"

Shots fired from the crowd as Megatron began shooting at the Sentinel statue and the structures surrounding it. 

 

"He's going to kill everyone." 

"We have to stop him-" Elita-1 was cut off as your form rushed past her and headed for the silver mech. Bee and Elita-1 glanced at each other before nodding and hastening after you. 

As Megatron continued shooting his cannon, a pede slammed into the side of his helm knocking him onto his knees. Megatron whipped around to find your fist heading toward his faceplate, he dodged and managed to grab your wrist in time to swing you around like a rag doll. 

Despite having a cog all this time, your frame was still shorter compared to Megatron's—but that didn't make you any less of a fighter. 

"You took him away from me! Your own best friend!" You bellowed and wrapped your legs around his arm to twist out of his grip. You swung your body weight to shift behind him and pummel him in punches. 

"He was your friend! My conjunx…my future….mine!" You grunted as Megatron ripped you off and threw you away. You rolled onto your servos and knees before jumping aside before the energy blast could hit you. The weight of losing Orion hit you all at once as you realized you had just rolled near the place where D-16…Megatron had dropped him. Your optics dimmed as your vision blurred from the rising dust and smoke. Your helm dropped and you couldn't see the massive cannon pointing at your pathetic form. 

"I took down the only thing standing in my way," Megatron sneered. The purr of his weapon charging up became a roar as the light within readied to snuff your spark. "And now? I will make sure you join him along with the rest who stand against me." 

"Not if we have anything to do about that!" Elita-1 charged in and snatched the cannon in time to redirect the shot elsewhere. 

A fight ensued and a multitude of thoughts ran through your processor. Your distraught and grief melded your frame into the floor. The noises and smell of destruction around you all blurred into one as you curled into a ball, wishing to disappear into the same abyss your conjunx had dropped in. 

After all, why continue this seemingly never ending cycle of injustice without the bot who made life worth living? 

No, Orion wouldn't have wanted you to think that way. Nor would have sat there wallowing in his own misery if your spark had stopped beating. He would've fought for you and you…will do the same.

Slamming your clenched servos into the ground you shot up and barreled toward the fight. Snarling as you drew closer and pounced onto Megatron just as he kicked Bee away. Before anyone on the tower could react, something exploded a piece of it and shot up into the sky. 

 

Amidst the chaos, you, Bee, and Elita-1 slid off the dome and landed on the lower platform again. 

Snapping your gaze up you found an familiar yet strange mech donning a similar color scheme to Orion standing before Megatron. 

 

"It can't be…" Bee began.

"It is." Elita-1 finished with wide optics. 

"Orion?" You whispered. 

 

He was alive. Alive. 

 

He was…different. 

 

…he wasn't dead and that's the important part. 

When all was said and done, Megatron was banished from Iacon and Energon returned to Cybertron, cogs being returned to the cogless citizens, you were finally able to have a moment alone with your conjunx now named Optimus Prime. 

His optics shone brightly as they landed on your faceplate. He turned to you fully and stretched his arm to reach you. You eagerly leaned into the palm of his servo, cheek pressing against the warmth of his hold on you. The faint hum of his spark calmed the raging storm within you, allowing your tense cables to ease up. 

"You've…changed." You sighed as you blinked back the liquid in your optics. 

"...so have you," Optimus craned his helm down to hold your gaze. "Come, we have a lot of things to discuss." 

You interlocked your digits with his, reluctant to drift away from him, but his softening gaze and even softer words persuaded you to let go. 

Trailing after the three but sticking close to Optimus's side, you nearly tripped over your own pedes as you felt the weight of his love through the bond. Keeping your expression neutral, you smiled inwardly and returned his affections tenfold. 

Primus, you were happy he was alive. 

😼 - I do not give permission for anyone to translate, copy, republish, or plagiarize any of my written works. I provide no permission for any of my literary works to be used in artificial intelligence. banner(s) by @enchanthings !!

[hunn1e-bunn1e]

could I get Dazai x Jessica rabbit male reader? Like reader is taller is feminine and intimidatingly sexy and Dazai endearingly is his “roger rabbit” in this situation, male reader is disinterested in me and woman alike to try to woo him and is polite but firm with he’s not there for you he’s there for someone else. The. Dazai comes strutting in and hangs on male reader’s should with love struck eyes and everyone is like “how the fuck did you end up with him-?” And male reader is like “He makes me laugh”

Dazai Osamu - Jessica Rabbit-Like Male Reader 

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

This is ADA Dazai and not PM Dazai since you didn't specify in your ask what time frame you wanted this in. This is my first time writing Dazai so I apologize if I didn't capture his character properly. I also wrote this headcannons in second person for a change, let me know if you like this more than the usual. I hope I did your ask some justice, Anon. The lyrics quoted in this one are from the song “Why Don't You Do Right” written by Joe McCoy and sung by Peggy Lee. —Benny🐰

Warnings -> Suggestive, Mentions of Suicide, Reader will have descriptions that correlate with the character 'Jessica Rabbit'

                                                                                                   

🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒

❝𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖍𝖆𝖉 𝖕𝖑𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖞 𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖞, 1922-- 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖑𝖊𝖙 𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖜𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖓 𝖒𝖆𝖐𝖊 𝖆 𝖋𝖔𝖔𝖑 𝖔𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚❞

. . .

🎙   When Dazai and [Name] first met, you can imagine what the first thing the bandaged man said to them was, of course, asking to commit double suicide with him. The tall and seductive stranger giggled and declined, thinking the bandaged man was simply making a morbid joke, but he planted a sweet kiss on Dazai's cheek and made his way down the street and out of the ADA detective's line of sight. The way the taller man's hips swayed as he strutted away had the brunette staring after him with wide eyes, sparkling with interest.

🎙  The two met again and subsequently exchanged contact information as well as planned a date during one of the investigations he was a part of. Something about the murder of a guy that happened in the club that [Name] performed in and the perpetrator being an ability user. After the investigation wrapped up, Osamu made sure to rizz him up and once again coax them into a double suicide, to which they again chuckled at and denied. For the mentioned date, Osamu took them to the movies them out to eat at the Uzumaki Diner before walking them home and being sent off with a kiss.

🎙  Now the two are married; two years going strong. Dazai makes sure to show up to every single performance his husband has at whichever club it happens to be at; oftentimes skipping out on his paperwork in order to do so. Dazai does make sure to tell [Name] that he in no way needs to come and see him at the ADA just in case, for their safety. Occasionally though, the seductive club singer does pay the bandaged man a workplace visit; usually dropping him off lunch or just to spend time together after being apart for a while.

🎙  Most times [Name]'s visits end up with him sitting sideways on his husband's lap while listening to him talk about his day in an animated fashion. Trailing his index finger up and down Osamu's chest slowly and sensually; the natural seductive smile playing on his lips. [Name] smothering the brunette in tons of kisses; leaving prints of his painted lips all over his husband's face and staining the bandages wrapped around his neck. Feeding each other whatever Osamu decided to grab from the vending machine on the other side of the room.

🎙  Speaking of the ADA; those in the agency still can't wrap their heads around how the two got together in the first place. [Name] is a drop-dead gorgeous sex symbol of a man who has a flourishing career as a club singer and Dazai is... well himself. Poor Atsushi nearly had a stroke trying to process the two being in a loving and stable relationship. How the bandaged man and his husband interact also seems to leave a few select people feeling painfully single and Dazai absolutely revels in their suffering. The man definitely plays up his interactions with [Name] just to get a rise out of them. When Kunikida asked the tall man just what he saw in his husband he answered that Dazai made him laugh.

🎙  Overall, the two have a very loving and stable relationship. Despite Osamu's want for death, [Name] makes him feel like life may be worth living just a little while longer than he thought. Every night that he spends in his husband's embrace is another night he feels safe, loved, and protected from the haunting memories of his past actions and those he's lost. Although... most nights the two of them don't get to sleep until late into the night.~ All Osamu's doing I'm sure, the scoundrel.

. . .

❝𝖂𝖍𝖞 𝖉𝖔𝖓'𝖙 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖉𝖔 𝖗𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙, 𝖑𝖎𝖐𝖊 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖔𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗 𝖒𝖊𝖓 𝖉𝖔? 𝕲𝖊𝖙 𝖔𝖚𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖌𝖊𝖙 𝖒𝖊 𝖘𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖊𝖞 𝖙𝖔𝖔❞

🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒•♡•🍒

🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.•°•.🐇.

Reblogs are appreciated ~ 𔓘

Wanna see similar content? Check out my Masterlist!

[abbyromanoff]

https://www.tumblr.com/abbyromanoff/733612847112896512/requests-will-now-be-open-for-one-day-for

LOVED YOU FIC FOR KINKTOBER WITH EMILY PRENTISS SOOOO if you’re up to it i would love to request another fic with her! mommy!emily preferably, some choking, and emily being a real head pusher (strap or no strap, both?) because she’s possessive af!! and emily being all mocky when she’s pushing reader into subspace

love me a little mean!dom!emily

thanks and have a good day!

KEEP QUIET

PAIRINGS: Emily Prentiss x reader

WORD COUNT: 726

WARNINGS: smut, breeding, talks of pregnancy, Mommy (E), choking, hair pulling, sex in office, strap on usage, breeding strap, possessiveness, begging, praise, degrading, think that’s all :)

NO ONE IS PERMITTED TO STEAL, COPY, OR REBLOG MY WORK AS THEIR OWN!!

“Shut your fucking mouth, baby, I don’t want nobody hearing those sweet moans except me,” Emily mumbled, and you returned a quiet apology. She sent a glare your way, and you quickly realized she was not joking. Her office was a sacred place of hers, one where she went nearly every day and spent more than half of her adulthood in. It wasn’t exactly private, but it was her very own that she was not forced to share.

JJ had greeted you when you walked in, giving you a small smile before you both fell into a small conversation about her husband and children. You always wanted a family, both women knew that, so Emily wasn’t entirely surprised when you ended up late at her door. You were only visiting to drop off her lunch and eat with her, but that soon changed when you were forced down onto the desk, your tits against the cold wood, and the papers she had been stressing over were now tossed to the floor.

“So fucking stressed, but you’re gonna help me, yeah? You being Mommy’s good little fuck-toy?” You nodded, tears rolling down your cheeks and causing her to chuckle deeply.

“I saw how excited you got talking to JJ, seeing her baby bump must’ve made you so, so jealous. But don’t you worry, I’ll give you a baby, sweetheart. I’ll make you the prettiest mommy.”

“Em,”

“Shut the fuck up! I don’t exactly remember saying you could speak, now did I?” Her hand played with your hair before she yanked it towards her direction, allowing your neck to be free of access to the lustful woman. She grabbed it, using her fingers to squeeze on your pulse points ever-so-slightly.

“I could see behind those sweet, innocent eyes that you were just dying to be her. Which is why-“ She cut herself off, a groan escaping her lips as you clenched around her strap. She couldn’t exactly feel it, but it caused the toy to rub perfectly against her pulsing clit.

“I got this specially made. Now, all I have to do is click this button, and you’ll be dripping in Mommy’s cum.” She teased the item, and you moaned at the thought. You had been begging for her to breed you, impregnate you, but the two of you both knew it was impossible under your circumstances.

“I’ve been wanting to fill this dirty cunt since you begged me that one night. You just looked so fucking precious, and now you look even sexier with my marks.” Hickey’s covered your skin, from past and present. Your thigh held a carving of her name from months ago when she caught you drunkenly flirting with your friend, even if you knew it was simply platonic. Then there was the tattoo, the one she paid for and monitored while you hesitantly agreed. It was right on your arm, ‘property of Emily Prentiss’. The thought of anyone seeing was utterly shameful, but she adored the idea. She wanted everyone to know who you belonged to, which was, and always will be, her.

“And for being so good, I’m going to let you cum. But I’ll be cumming first, got that?” You nodded, covering your mouth with your hand while she continued to pump her length inside of you. Her fingers traveled upward until they reached your mouth, pushing past the blockage as she inserted them.

“Oh- fuck! Fuck, I’m so close!” She yelled, and only moments later you felt the false liquid bursting inside of you. Her movements came to a halt, her breathing ragged and heavy while her thighs shook, waves seeming to crash over her as her coil snapped like a spring.

You began allowing yourself to give in, your body on the brink of overbearing pleasure until she pulled out, the cum slowly beginning to leak down your thighs.

“No, please! Please, I’ve been so good, Mommy- I- I need to cum so bad.” You cried, and she only mocked you as a result.

“You said I could, I-“ Her finger came to her lips in a shushing expression, and while you couldn’t see it, you could hear the taunt.

“Oh, I know,” She said. “But I never told you when, and Mommy wants to play a little longer, alright? And you want to make Mommy happy, correct?”

[skiiyoomin]

HELLO! Can you write a denki x goth!reader? Reader has a shadow quirk that makes her unable to fully walk into the sun without a umbrella and looks a bit eerie but is a sweetheart, totally sun and moon couple vibes 🌒. I'm sorry If this is too especific, you can ignore If you want to!!!

ღDenki with a goth s/o

ʚCont: gn! reader, goth reader, mention of golden retriever and black cat trope, swearing, mentions of goth culture (im very uncultured in it so i apologize if i made a mistake)

⤑Back to navigation

Opposites attract is the definition of your relationship. He´s the sun, you´re the moon. The perfect duo, is what people say. And it´s true. You complement each other so well, it creates a perfect balance in your relationship. The dynamic is a lot like Beast boy and Raven. He´s always bounding with energy whereas you´re reserved and on the chill side of things.

When Denki first laid eyes on you, he was a little intimidated if he was being honest. He couldn´t help it! You looked so scary and eerie he thought you were gonna gauge his eyes out or something. That all changed when you saved him during the U.S.J incident. It all happened so quick, a flash of moments that became a blur. But the moment that was engraved in his memories was your worried face asking if he was okay. Did he fall in love instantly? Maybe.

His perception of you definitely did a 180 since then. And honestly, he felt a little guilty for assuming you were mean in the first place. Nevertheless, he opened up later on to the idea of getting to know you. It started off when he attempted to bake a thank you cake for saving him. Turns out, you don´t like sweet things. But don´t fret! Denki does not lose his determination. So instead, he arranged a bouquet of flowers. You were allergic to one of them. Now he was starting to grow frustrated. Attempt after attempt slowly beated down his hopes of doing something nice for you (you appreciated everything even if Denki deemed it unsuitable, he needed perfection). At last, luck took pity on him and presented the perfect opportunity. He caught onto a snippet of a conversation you were having with Jirou. You were rambling about a book you had been saving up for. That´s it! He´ll get you the book.

"Denki? Are you okay?"

You ask a frenzied looking Denki who knocked on your door at 11PM.

"I have it" He pants with his hands on his knees. You raise an eyebrow in confusion. "Have what?"

A shaky hand holds up a brand new copy of the book you had been eyeing for a while. "The book you wanted" He wheezes. Your eyebrows shoot up in surprise. Just to what lengths did Denki go to buy the book and appear at your door looking like he ran a marathon?Your silence must have been long because he stood back him, a nervous smile on his lips as he pushes the book into your hand.

"I-wow, thank you" You managed to sputter at last. But before you could manage another word, he was already rushing down the hallway, a furious blush on his cheeks.

Ever since then he´s attached to your hip. He saw you the next day reading the book (that he gifted which was no small matter in his eyes), and the soft smile you sent his way when you made eye contact was enough to send him to heaven and above.

He stuck to your side like glue, constantly asking questions about the things you like and whatnot. And trust me when I say he became whipped real quick. The heart eyes were obvious, he was not fooling anyone. Going back to the whole Beast Boy and Raven dynamic, Denki is a very flirty guy. And the fact that he likes you boosts that to a million. He´s always using some cheesy pick up line or trying to do boyfriend things. He makes his crush on you obvious and he has no shame in it. And even though you act like you hate it, you both know you don´t. After all, if you hated it, you would´ve pushed him away long ago.

At this point, everyone was counting down the days until you finally got together. When it finally happened everyone was ecsatic because yay! no more annoying crushing Denki. But they soon regretted it because Denki with a partner is a million times more annoying.

He´s always showing you off with a proud giddy smile. Because you´re his. His partner and no one elses. Loves loves loves kissing you and hugging you. He´s a very physically affectionate person. Basically a golden retriever and you´re the black cat. He always has that lovesick puppy eyed look, like a puppy sitting by their owners feet, waiting to be acknowledged. That´s how he is with you, and when you do give him attention, he´s over the moon. He´s very vocal about his love for you and could spend hours listing off all the things he likes about you. The squad can not take it any longer.

He worships the ground you walk on you´re goddess, he´s your biggest supporter. So trust when I say he does not take any slander directed towards you. He zaps people who look at you the wrong way.

Also! Last but not least, having a goth partner means his eyes open up to the whole goth culture. Ever since he became friends with you he took an interest in your clothing style, the music you listen to, the make up style. Basically anything, and he definitely binge read anything having to do with goth culture just so he´d look cool and all knowimg when you talk to him. You ended up having to teach him yourself but you appreciated the effort either way.

All in all, Denki is the best boyfriend. End of speech.

[miguel-ohara-lover]

Badboy!miguel x nerdygirl reader

Where like badboy!miguel has an interest into this one specific nerd (which is reader) always trying get her attention,doing anything to impress her,even when she clearly doesn't want to deal with him, and that just get miguel to play harder,until one day he saw reader laughing and smile hard while blushing mess with an boy,causing anger to boil inside of him,veins popping but he doesn't show it,he wait until the end of the day and beat the hell of the boy, and grabing reader an pinned her down to an wall dealing her with his large body, this makes her scared and feel small she never saw him so angry before.

You could put nfsw if you'll like

Oh boy the one everyone’s craving… that’s a lot of pressure haha

Head Over Heels

(Badboy!Miguel x Nerdy!F!Reader)

CW: NSFW, yandere type shit, beating, too big, college, dirty talk in Spanish (all characters are well over 18)

Random note: I know you didn’t say it specifically but “Badboy” and “nerdy” makes me think school so college? Yeah idk sorry-

Miguel O’Hara watched as you walked through the courtyard. He loved to watch your skirt bounce, the pleated fabric swaying as you so elegantly made your way across campus. There were practically hearts in his eyes as his gaze never left your gorgeous form. You never noticed him of course. Part of him wished you would. But the other part was happy with his little secret. Stalking was such an ugly word, but how else would one define his actions?

[I wanted to be with you alone And talk about the weather But traditions I can trace against the child in your face Won't escape my attention]

There were times he did try, tried to get you to even look at him. Those weeks he felt particularly desperate. His throat was dry, skin warm to the touch. It was as if he were sent into a heat. Those days he couldn’t stay away, couldn’t stay in the bushes watching silently. Miguel would get close to you, enough to brush against you and take in the sweet scent of your shampoo.

[You keep your distance via the system of touch And gentle persuasion I'm lost in admiration, could I need you this much? Oh, you're wasting my time You're just, just, just wasting time]

“Oh- sorry!” You looked up at him, apologizing for bumping into his arm. You hadn’t known at the time it was on purpose.

His face flushed as he looked down at you, your voice sent shocks through his body. “It… it’s alright.” He managed to mutter as you walked away, having seen your friends approaching.

That one encounter played in his mind on repeat over and over again. The one time you had spoken to him. You were so sweet, so kind to him, it made his dick twitch in his pants. Your voice was like music to his ears, he couldn’t get enough of it. Until then he had been content just watching you from affair. Now, he needs to hear you. He needs to hear that angelic voice.

[Something happens and I'm head over heels I never find out until I'm head over heels Something happens and I'm head over heels Ah, don't take my heart, don't break my heart Don't, don't, don't throw it away]

It soon developed into Miguel not being so hidden. After months of stalking, he finally started making real moves. He liked bringing you gifts, offering you rides places, offering to help with your assignments. You accepted, of course, who wouldn’t accept such kind gestures. He seemed like a lovely friend. You thought that’s all it was, a new friendship blooming, and that he was just a generous man. You thanked him many times, and he’d always respond with something about it being no big deal, and that he just likes seeing you smile.

His response was bullshit. It was a big deal. It was a huge deal to him. Every tiny action was important to him. Hearing you call him a friend, a pal, a buddy… It drove him mad. He wanted you to want him. He needed you to need him. He needed you, needed your body, your voice, your touch… He would do anything. No matter how obvious he made it, you never caught on. Perhaps you did and were just playing hard to get. He wasn’t sure. But either way, he hated it.

Miguel brought you flowers, chocolates, made valentines day such a big deal. He even called your little get togethers “dates”. He got no response, which made him more desperate. This you caught onto and started to irritate you. You loved Miguel dearly, but only as a friend. He never seemed to get that. He just wasn’t your type. He’s the leather-jacket-motorcycle-riding-cigarette-smoking “bad boy” of the university. You’d much rather stay in your dorm reading a nice book or finishing up your assignments. Not galivanting around town on a bike that is super dangerous while smoking which is also super dangerous and scaring the weaker students.

You hoped one day he’d move on, and even tried to set him up with one of your friends. She seemed much more his style, “goth” as you called it. She was much more punk than “goth” but didn’t care enough to correct your misunderstanding. They seemed to get along well. They hung out a few times, and she started to look forward to seeing him. You thought maybe he finally would move on, and so could you. She would always call you to talk about how much fun they had, how he took her for late night drives on his bike and such.

Even with this new friend he had, Miguel still wanted you. His persistence never let up; he still wanted you. So, when he saw you in the courtyard with a handsome fellow, his arm draped around your shoulders, he was filled with rage. An intense fury filled him, fiery passion burned within as he watched you. Someone was touching his girl. He couldn’t stand that.

The longer he watched, the angrier he became. Who did this guy think he was? He didn’t deserve you, he didn’t deserve to see that smile, to hear your angelic laugh. You giggled at whatever this dickhead was telling you. Miguel scoffed to himself. What could he say that earned a laugh from you? No one knew you like he did. He certainly wouldn’t let this dick get away with this. Miguel wouldn’t- no, couldn’t let him get away with being so handsy, so touchy so… affectionate with his girl.

You blushed as this man talked to you, his voice so smooth and sultry. Miguel hated it. He hated seeing another man make your cheeks flush. He wanted that to be him. He would make sure it was him, no one else. No one else could even look at you, touch you, make you feel oh so good like he could. You didn’t know it yet, but no one would be as good to you as Miguel. Only Miguel. He needed to do something.

That night, he followed your new boytoy back to the men’s dorms. Miguel Stalked behind this man for a good ten minutes before pulling him down an unlit hallway, covering his mouth with a large hand to hide any screams. He struggled and strained against Miguel but was helpless in that tight grip. Miguel pushed him to the ground and started kicking him repeatedly, saying things about you being his and only his. He repeated phrases about not going near you again, never speaking to you again, not even looking at you or passing you in the hallway. You belonged to him.

After the attack he left the guy laying there on the ground, bloody and severely bruised… and maybe with a broken rib or two just to really get the message across. Now he had to find you. He needed to. He needed to see you, to hold you in his arms. He’s sure you’ll need comfort when you realize your boy toy is ghosting you, and he’s just the man to provide said comfort.

Miguel grinned when he saw you making your way to your dorm. You were alone. Perfect. He made his way over to you, coming up behind you and snaking his arms around your waist. The gesture made your heart jump. A million thoughts ran through your hand, wondering if you were being attacked or if your boy toy was trying to scare you. He leaned down and nuzzled his face against your neck. That’s when you saw his hair and caught the familiar smell of Miguel. He smelt of subtle cologne and smoke.

“Miguel? What are you doing?” You turned your head to look at him. He didn’t reply as his hands wandered over you. As much as you hated to admit it, this was kind of hot… His hands were so big, and glided so expertly over your frame, over every curve. They cupped your breasts perfectly, and you let out a quiet moan as he started to knead gently. “M-Mig… let’s take this somewhere more private-” Before you finished your sentence, he scooped you up in those strong arms and carried into a darker hallway.

“This’ll do, cariño.” He growled into your ear. His large body pressed you into the wall, making you unable to escape now. He towered over you, hands on either side of your head to keep you right where he wanted you. You blushed as you looked up at him, a playful smirk on his lips. Miguel leaned down and kissed you passionately, a hand moving to cup your cheek as the other made its way down to your skirt. He pushed the fabric up your thigh, his touch sending shivers through your body. You returned the kiss, your arms reaching around his neck to keep him close.

You gave into him, let him do what he wanted despite every moral instinct in you saying this is wrong. You had always thought you could never be with someone like Miguel, that you two were just too different for each other. But fuck… the way his hands moved… all those ideals of what the perfect guy for you was crumbled away, replaced by the thought that the only one for you was Miguel. He had succeeded in doing exactly what he wished, he wanted you to be only his, and he got that.

A small gasp escaped your lips when you felt a thick finger rub against your wet panties. Miguel smirked when he felt just how soaked you were, pulling your panties to the side and dragging a finger through your slick folds. You shuddered and let out a moan as his finger grazed your clit.

“Qué dulces sonidos, mami.” Miguel groaned in your ear as he traced circles around your clit, listening to the heavenly moans leaving your mouth. Your hand quickly moved to his waistline, fumbling with his belt haphazardly as you urgently tried to free what you so desperately wanted. He chuckled at your desperation, bringing his hand down to assist you. He slid his belt off, letting you drag his pants and boxers down. You watched as his erection sprang free, face flushed red as the wetness between your thighs increased.

He smirked and pressed against your body more, his cock sliding between your folds, He covered his length in your slick before pressing the tip to your hole. Fuck, he’s big… Almost too big… You thought to yourself. Miguel knew this would be a tight squeeze, but he didn’t care anymore. You cried out as he shoved his erection inside you, stretching your hole so much with barely any time to adjust. He groaned as your walls contracted around him more, and he captured your lips in another kiss to quiet you down a bit.

You moaned into his mouth as he pushed into you further and held one of your legs up, allowing him to slide even deeper. Miguel continued to push in until his hips met yours, giving you time to adjust. That pause only lasted a few seconds, however, before he started thrusting. His pace was slow to begin with, he loved listening to your whines and moans as his length moved in and out of your cunt. He trailed kisses down your jawline and neck, his hands holding onto your waist. He groaned as your walls tightened around him more, his nails digging into the soft skin of your waist as he tries to keep himself composed.

He picked up his speed, fucking you into the bricks. He didn’t want to finish before you, even though he felt practically edged since he first laid eyes on you. He was determined to make you finish first, to prove you needed him just as much as he needed you. You gasped and moaned as his pace quickened, the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot over and over. You felt a familiar heat forming in your gut and he rutted into you like a desperate animal, your hands gripping his jacket to keep him close.

“M-Miguel…” You moaned and your grip tightened a bit. You felt so close already, every thrust bringing you closer to the edge. He felt it too and tried so hard to keep himself together. His hips stuttered, thrusts losing the pattern he set. Your voice didn’t help, hearing you say his name so cute and sweet just fueled the flames of his lust. Miguel dipped his head down, hiding his face against your neck.

Miguel groaned and grunted as he felt his release approaching. You gasped and moaned as your orgasm ripped through you. He groaned when he felt your walls contract once more, causing him to release inside you as his hips stuttered more. He fucked you slow and deep, pushing his cum in further as it spilled inside you. You rode out your orgasms together, his hands moving down to your ass and kneading gently as you both came down from your highs.

You whimpered a little as the overstimulation, his cock slowing to a stop before he pulled out. He fixed your panties, keeping all that cum inside you, and he let your skirt fall back down around your thighs. Your skin felt so hot, every brush of his fingers sent a wave of heat through your body. You’re in a daze as Miguel fixes his pants.

“My dorm or yours?” His voice brought you out of your daze and you looked up at him.

“Hm? You know we can’t have each other in our dorms.” You chuckled a little.

“Like I care about that.” Miguel smirked a little as he pulled you into a kiss.

————

@theaussiedragon @jukioku @https-gassen @your-antares-universe @camzzn @kaqua @aug-ust69 @zaunsin @honeycomb-biscuits @lookingforgoodthings @lalalalala-888 @bustmybrain @downbadforurmom @m3wh0 @loosecan @qiaipia @ozzmodeus-main @nobloggy-onlyread @beingdeluluisthesolulu @whosking @irmiki @obsessed-with-miguels-ass @jasmineandmatcha @bookmark-anon @sarapaprikas-blog @gaby-3 @they-love-snacks @anakinskywalkerwhore @strrchasm @gecko290 @thel0velykey190

[dreamsinmoonlight]

I have a yandere alastor idea for you... Could you do it? Imagine the reader being one of the unfortunate people who was killed by the alastor when he was human... Human! Alastor never felt these strong feelings for anyone, until the reader appeared in his life, the reader was a kind and caring person with everyone, always treating everyone the same... Now I imagine when Alastor discovered that these feelings were love for the reader, but the reader rejected him because he already loved other people... Maybe Alastor, in his desperate and psychotic environment, unintentionally killed the reader...

(now currently) the reader became an angel and was chosen to help Charlie at the hotel (of course the reader doesn't know that Alastor is at the hotel and this happens after the battle)...

Now what would happen?

(Fudge knuckles, this, um, it set off something in my head because I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. Admittedly couldn't imagine turning down Alastor but I can try to imagine it for this XD

Um I would have started this earlier but I was watching stuff with my friends yesterday when I got this. Point is I'm creating it now despite wanting to space out my creations, oops~

So i wasn't sure if you wanted the reader to be male or not (since you said "because he already loved other people") so I'm going gender neutral again on this. Sorry if you wanted male specifically >w<

Alastor uses "doe" as a petname for you which yes is female but I like the idea of it so I apologize for that.

Totes writing this after looking deep into my Alastor plushies eyes and while watching A Haunting in Venice. Don't ask why.

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Characters: yandere!Alastor, angel!reader

Pairing: Guess

Genre: What genre does yandere being yandere fit in? Hurt? Ain't no comfort here

Summary: Sir Pentious should have told you, oh god, why did he not warn you.)

Oh Doe

Emily assured you this would be a lovely thing; she spoke with excitement and sweetness and love of her dear friend Charlie, of that wonderful princess of hell. And the newcomer Sir Pentious, well he had plenty himself of his time there, of his growing friendships and those strange fascinating souls for whom he'd given his life. For whom he was sent up to heaven, redeemed at last. It was hard for you not to be excited, your wings all a flutter as the portal opened to allow you entrance to Down Below, to Hell. To the Hazbin Hotel.

You found the place extremely warm and it took you a moment to remember that of course it was such. It was Hell after all. You smiled as you did so and approached the hotel, amazed by it's grandness. You'd heard about the great battle between the exterminators and the hotel residents; the loss of Adam had been both a great blow and an admitted relief in some. He had been many things to many people, you mainly saw him from a distance like most angels, but the idea that an angel as powerful as him could be felled sent emotions through Heaven that were less than pleasant. You of course never feared though, a kind soul through and through, one able and willing to see the good and warmth in all. Even, you'd be the first to admit, that of perhaps those who certainly didn't deserve it.

Your eyes found the design fascinating. There was something familiar in it, in the silhouette of it, of the flash of it, the strange apple shaped tower. And the one opposite to it, strange and ominous, and in it something felt as it was watching you with far too much interest. You felt, for the first time in decades, shivers down your spine and could half remember a voice.

"Oh doe, my doe, you have done something terrible. You've broken something deep inside me and you won't even be good enough to fix it." You had not thought about it in a very long time, those words, the last thing you heard from a voice as smooth as velvet, sweet as honey, and poisonous as a viper. It dug deep, it was embedded in your soul, for better or worse, along with all the regrets and sadnesses of a life left unfinished.

"Oh you must be the angel Emily told me about!" You were ripped from your memories by a voice and your wings expanded in surprise as you looked towards the door to see what you had to guess was Charlie Magne herself.

She was bright and cheery, the strangest sight of sunlight in the depths of Hell, but her eyes sparkled and she ran over to you, taking your hands in hers and shaking them excitedly, "Oh, Emily said an angel would come down to help but really after everything that happened, you know with the trial and the fight and all of that, well, who really thought that Heaven would really send down an angel? And to help us no doubt! I'm so excited, seriously, really, just-"

"Charlie," said the voice of Vaggie; she was another angel, Emily had mentioned her, and she looked at Charlie with a soft look before turning her eye to you. It was so....it was hard to describe, not entirely hostile, not certainly friendly; you knew very little of her, of her fall, of what happened, but you suspected that she had less than friendly memories of angels. Still you smiled warmly back at her, not blaming her her feelings, how could you when you didn't truly know her; you certainly hoped to change that with your time here.

She was not the only one looking at you with at least a little suspicion. In the aftermath of battle and rebuilding, there would of course be such for an angel walking up to the hotel. The tall one, the spider sinner Angel Dust, tilted his head at you with eyes hidden by sunglasses, hands on his hips. Beside him was Husk; Sir Pentious had called him the bartender, he had not mentioned how fluffy and soft he looked, with his own wings ruffling behind him with a look even more suspicious than Vaggie's own. To both still you smiled and waved, hoping to make friends, to prove yourself.

There were more; you knew there were because you'd been told. But try as you might, while you remembered Sir Pentious mentioning how Lucifer often was around, not there currently of course, and there was supposed to be a little one-eyed maid named Nifty, Sir Pentious' love Cherry Bomb, you couldn't quite remember who else he mentioned. You knew there was one more, one more resident, one more sinner. Who....who....

"Come on, let me show you around," Charlie said and there again was that bright smile. You liked her, she was a warm kind soul; she reminded you of what everyone always accused you of being. Yet deep down you couldn't help but feel you weren't though, that Charlie was kinder, that Charlie was sweeter.

Because Charlie wouldn't have broken someone's heart like you had.

She dragged you along, such strength for such a small girl, and you were delighted by the beauty of the inside of the hotel as well. Down your back you still felt the chills, still felt the sensation of being watched, but you told yourself it was nothing and enjoyed the tour.

"Husk is the bartender of course, Angel is our resident....well, resident; our housekeeper Nifty is running around somewhere," Charlie said cheerfully, showing you all around, "And my dad is currently at home but he'll be back soon; oh he'll be so surprised to see you, we haven't had an angel here since...oh...well..." she trailed off and looked embarrassed.

You laughed sweetly and smiled at her. "No worries at all princess, I understand. The situation was terrible and on behalf of Heaven, I am so sorry for what happened; you never should have been put in such a position to have to fight to protect yourself like that. But you all survived and Sir Pentious spoke so lovingly of you all, I am delighted to have the chance to meet you and assist you with redeeming souls so they may come to Heaven too."

Charlie looked at you and you recognized it, though it felt strange coming from someone as sunshine as her. It was a look you were well used to, one you had gotten a lot in life, when you helped someone who was down on their luck by giving them everything in your pockets, when you showed kindness and love to any and all around you; people didn't always understand, they didn't often want to. Charlie, you suspected, did on both regards but having grown up in Hell, though she too saw the good in all around her, there still must be a part of her that felt uncertain when faced with a true kindred spirit. You noticed from the corner of your eye Vaggie's expression change, of course she would see it too, to something a little softer but still with plenty of apprehension. You were not fake though in your goodness; you had become an angel for good reason, Sera and Emily had always told you so.

Something felt like it was chuckling and you could have sworn you heard it again. "Oh doe, my doe, how is it you can brighten up a whole room with that bleeding heart of yours?"

"Ooooooh!" Charlie said and proceeded to capture you in a massive bearhug; the strength of a hellborn, especially Lucifer's daughter, was quite impressive and you blinked a few times before chuckling.

She continued. "I like you a lot, you seem like just what we need!"

"Oh great another softie just like our princess," said Angel Dust, walking up behind you both.

Charlie let go of you with a pout. "Angel, what's that supposed to mean?"

"That means you're too soft for your own good and so are they," Husk said, "Which, by the way, what even is your name anyway, angel?"

"You know my name," Angel Dust said playfully and nudged Husk, making the sinner grumble.

"Not you, spider, the actual angel."

"Oh me," you said, smiling again before stating your name.

You didn't expect how pale he got. You didn't expect that someone as furry as him could even go pale. Maybe it was just that his eyes widened and you got the sense he recognized your name; you opened your mouth to ask what was wrong, why he was looking at you like that but he grabbed Charlie's arm, tight if her wince was any indication.

"Princess, we need to talk, now," he said.

"Husk what's wrong?" Charlie asked and Vaggie frowned as the cat-bird sinner pulled her away from you and down the hall.

You watched as Vaggie and Angel Dust threw you a confused look then Husk one before following after him, leaving you there, alone. The hotel was quiet, they moved far enough for whatever was on his mind for you to not hear; you choose that it was probably something important and you weren't too worried. Of course they didn't trust you entirely yet to talk about important things around you, not after what happened. You kept your smile and your faith and decided to take the chance to look about the hotel for yourself.

There were many floors and many rooms. Most were empty, many were locked; you thought to yourself of how beautiful this place would be when more souls came, to be redeemed and finally go to heaven. Oh it would be wonderful, full of voices and singing and laughter and happiness. You know you were chosen for this role but you certainly couldn't have imagined any better one; to help people was something you very much enjoyed doing and this felt like the best way to do so with your afterlife.

Yet the happy thoughts felt...cold here somehow. Colder still as you kept walking. The sensations continued, of being watched, of something staring. You tried to ignore it, certain it was nothing. That surely the shadows weren't somehow watching you; that was all that there were after all, just the hotel and the shadows.

Your own little tour led to a specific door and you weren't too sure what brought you there. By your estimates it was the door that would lead to a room connected to that strange tower, the ominous one, the one you'd felt had been watching you. You stood before the door for a moment, staring at the doorknob before pulling yourself together, your wings fluttering, your heart racing a little. This was silly, you were being silly; you reached out for the doorknob to open the door.

It opened on it's own, before you could even touch it, and from inside you heard something familiar. Jazz music, a taste of home; it touched your heart and your smile turned soft and nostalgic, reminded so much of those days when you'd been alive. Visions of New Orleans crossed your mind and without thinking you stepped inside, entranced by the music; you started to sing along, knowing this song by heart.

"Oh doe, my doe," said a voice and while the music kept playing, you no longer could hear it, for the blood that couldn't rush that did rush past your ears as the good memories faded away.

He'd always played it, a dedication just to you he always told you. That melodious voice, that bright smile; it was tinged, tainted, but the crackle of radio filter to it reminded you of the days sitting in your living room, listening to him talk, never imagining what he truly was, who he truly was. Your dearest friend, for years and years.

"Alastor." The name tasted like fear on your tongue and you turned to stare, with eyes as wide as a deer's in headlights, at the tall figure who stood there, gently closing the door behind you both.

So much had changed yet not much at all. He still smiled so friendly, so warm, and you once believed so much in it, in what soul could be behind it. Until the day he confessed and you, foolish, foolish you, who loved and loved and loved and didn't know yet how to take being loved, had turned him down. He'd called you his doe, then he'd stabbed you through the heart.

His smile twitched and he tilted his head, red eyes focused on you. He wore a monocle instead of glasses, you thought feebly to yourself how you'd liked the glasses; the slightly tattered coat, the neat little bowtie, the essence of suaveness, the sharp claws clenching so lightly a long thin cane with a microphone on the end, it all suited him in some way. You remembered his hair as brown; it now was reddish, red like the rest of him. Red like your blood must have been on his clothes.

"My doe," he said and reached out with one hand, cupping your chin; you were frozen, unable to resist, unable to speak anything but his name in a terrified whisper, "It seems Heaven's sent you back to me."

You didn't want to die. You were sure he would kill you again. But he continued to smile, with those sharp teeth like a sharks he had, and looked you over, examined. "I must say, I'm not surprised you're an angel; you always were one, you just needed the wings."

That hand moved, from your chin to one of your wings and a whimper left you as you felt him stroke your feathers, biting your lip and closing your eyes.

"The question is though, my doe," he said and his tone never changed; it was playful, light, and ever so dangerous, "Do I let you keep them or do I rip them off of you? Can't have you escaping me again, can I?"

"Alastor, please," you whispered, begged, "Please..."

"Though if I did that Charlie might complain," he said and chuckled, "And I wouldn't want that. Promise me then, my doe, promise me you won't try to run away."

"I promise." You just wanted to be safe, you just wanted him not to hurt you. You remembered death, it had hurt so much.

"Good doe," he said and pulled away, patting you on the head, "Now come on, remember to smile; you're never fully dressed without one."

He smiled at you and you smiled back. Not because you wanted to. But because something, deep down, from that day, from all those days you'd spent with him, and all the days you knew to come, that if you didn't, it wouldn't end well.

The door burst in soon after and Vaggie seemed on the attack while Angel grabbed you to pull you behind him, Charlie apologizing over and over, "I didn't know, Husk told us all about what happened, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have let you wander off on your own".

"No worries princess, I was just greeting our new angelic guest," Alastor said with cheer and friendliness.

Husk glared at him, his wings expanded, his eyes narrowed. You tried to reassure Charlie; you couldn't even really reassure yourself. But something in seeing her so worried, Husk so on edge, Vaggie with her spear and Angel standing there as if he could or would do anything, make almost seem like this could still be okay. You could still see the bright side in this, goodness, the light.

Even when facing down the greatest devil you knew.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for killing my character and quitting a D&D game I was part of?

Apologies in advance but this is going to be rather long, I'll put a TL;DR at the bottom.

So this all started about eleven months ago when I (14, she/they/he) started getting into D&D, and joined a D&D group thanks to a friend of mine we'll call T (14, he/they). The group was made up of about five people total, but the main people in this situation are me, T, and the DM who we'll call N (15, he/him).

Now when I was making my character, T was helping me out by letting me describe what sort of character I wanted and suggesting different races, classes etc to make it work how I wanted, and what we ended up with was a Pact of the Undead warlock. The backstory of my character was that their older brother died defending them from an invasion of the village they lived in.

My character managed to make contact with their spirit in the afterlife and formed a "pact" with them, gaining power in exchange for letting him "look after them" (i.e. keep watch over them from the afterlife, protect them from harm, all that sorta thing). T told me to run the final concept past N but that they were sure it'd be allowed and that the pact idea was really sweet.

So I told N about my character and the backstory idea like T suggested and N seemed really on board with the whole thing, though he wanted to make a few slight changes to things in secret that would come up during the campaign, to make things more exciting I guess.

I told him I was alright with that, as long as nothing about who the pact was with and what it was for changed too much. He assured me that it wouldn't and that he'd get back to me on what changes he was planning, but he never did, and at the time I just put that down to him being busy.

The campaign starts, and for the first few months things are going pretty good. I do notice that a lot of NPCs, in fact nearly every non-child NPC, seems to be flirting(?) with my character, but I don't think too much of it at first, she is a young elven woman with blonde hair and silver eyes and everyone in the group has said that she's very pretty.

It isn't until one of the others who is also playing an elven character points out that they've been on the receiving end of essentially racism towards elves from NPCs who have simultaneously been showering my character with compliments that I start realizing how frequent and honestly rather obsessive it is, and as mentioned, just how many of the NPCs are doing it.

Then we get to T's character arc, exploring his character's backstory and helping them with things that come up. However, there are certain characters that are introduced that, out of character, T reacts rather negatively to, and when I ask him outside of session what's going on he confides in me that N is changing elements of his backstory that he'd told him he didn't want changing. As an example, T wrote that their character's mother was never part of their character's life growing up.

One of the characters we met was the character's mother, who was instead apparently a very prominent part of their life and cared greatly about them "not that they ever noticed". He also changed the character of T's father from "kind and caring man who did his best to raise his child alone and teach them how to defend themselves" to "stubborn, angry and neglectful father that is constantly disappointed in his son", which completely blindsided and upset T.

T also said that he'd tried talking to N about this but that the response had ended up being, to put it bluntly, "I'm the DM so I have the final say in things". This started to worry me, especially when I realized that N had never gotten back to me with his "proposed changes" to my backstory.

So I sent him a message, but because I didn't want to drag T into my own business with N I decided to say something along the lines of "hey, did you ever figure out what you wanted to change about my backstory?". He messaged back and said that he'd figured it out, but that things with school were so busy that he hadn't had time to sit down and properly write it all out to send to me yet, but assured me that he would by the time T's arc was over.

Several more months passed with no further word from N about my character's backstory, and as T's arc wraps up there's this idea that starts getting brought up, of how demons often exploit the grief of mortals to latch onto them and claim their souls by impersonating the dead person.

The others in the group all latch onto this and start speculating about how exactly the demons use impersonation to claim souls, except for T who gives me this rather worried look from across the table, and it suddenly hits me that this is probably meant to be the opening of my character arc.

I pull N aside after the game is over for the night and ask him directly if this is the opening to my character arc, and he says that it is, but not to worry because the demon thing is, to quote, "just being brought up to get the others interested". I remind him about what I told him about not wanting anything to change about who the pact was with and what it was for, and ask him again what changes he's made to my backstory.

He promises he'll have a full list to me by the start of next session, that we'll have time to sit down together and discuss it all even, and that he won't do anything I don't want him to do. Despite my concerns and the fact that he has already said several times he'll send me this list without doing it, I decide, like a fool, to trust him, even though in hindsight I had absolutely no reason to by this point.

The next session rolls around, and of course there's no list, instead a lot of NPCs who start voicing concern whenever my character brings up the fact she's a warlock, or her dead brother, especially if the pair come up in quick succession. One of the other characters figures out what's going on and asks if they can basically cast some sort of spell to determine if a demon's got control of my soul, which N agrees to, and the spell determines that yes, that's exactly what's going on.

I immediately confront N, mid-session, and tell him outright that this isn't fair, that I told him I didn't want him to change this part of my backstory, and I wanted him to change it back immediately or I wasn't going to play anymore. He started on this long-winded response basically summarizing as "I'm the DM, I can do what I want".

This is the part where I may be the asshole, because well, I saw red in that moment, and decided I not only wanted to follow through on my threat of quitting, but also do something to ensure that my point was driven home.

I fired off a quick message to T on my phone warning him what I was about to do, and while the others were talking about what to do to help me I loudly announced that my character was stabbing herself through the heart, which N had previously ruled would be an instant method of death if carried out.

Silence falls over the group. N tells me that I need to roll to see if I even hit, which I argue (with T backing me up) that if my character is willing to get hurt then it's automatically a hit. N tells me that I need to roll to see if I even pierce my heart. Okay, fine, I roll, and as luck would have it I roll a Nat 20. N attempts to send me just to death saves, but I remind him (again, with T backing me up) that he'd ruled that this was an instant death.

So then he tries to have an NPC cleric show up and revive my character, but T brings up that the soul has to be willing to return to life for that to work, and I immediately say that my character wouldn't even be able to consent to that if her soul was held by a demon, nor would she even be willing if she could. Then I tell N directly that he can consider this my official resignation from the group and walk out, and T follows along behind me after a few minutes.

Ever since then N's been blowing up my phone, fluctuating between begging for me to rejoin the group and promising that he'll do things differently this time, and calling me a selfish bastard for "ruining the fun". T still goes to sessions occasionally, though I think now it's just to spectate, and he's said that maybe things went a little far with the character death in hindsight. And honestly, I'm not exactly proud of how I acted now either.

TL;DR -- I joined a D&D campaign where the DM has made unwanted changes to my character's backstory, despite my attempts to communicate with him, so I retaliated by killing my character mid-session and refusing to let him revive her before quitting. AITA?

[thejakeformerlyknownasprince]

hi! sorry if you've answered this already, i tried to search your blog and didn't find much, but we all know the tumblr search function is...uh...but i'd be deeply curious to hear your thoughts about Stephenie Meyer's "The Host," specifically re: treatment of the issue of souls' colonization and possession of other species...and obviously, since i'm asking you, an animorphs blog, this, my curiosity is definitely coming from a place of comparison to animorphs, but that doesn't have to be your focus!

from the posts tumblr's search algorithm did grant me, i gather you see it as wanda unlearning the colonizer's propaganda stance she takes at the start of the story, which i agree with!

but i guess every time i read it, i really can't help but feel...unsatisfied? with the way it actually engages with the horrors and colonization of it all?

sort of like, okay, The Host is this one very individual YA romance story in a sci-fi setting, which is obviously different from a heavily-Star-Trek-inspired middle-grade series about guerrilla warfare and is going to grapple with these issues differently...but still! i don't leave feeling satisfied with how it engages with consent of "host" bodies the souls are in, and i don't feel satisfied with how it engages with the souls' systemic behavior!!! but i can't really put my finger on why, and i just...was curious, i guess, whether this was something you had thoughts about.

(full disclosure: i'm asking you specifically because one of my HUGE points of existential dread on my first adulthood reread of The Host was how Jodi never wakes up, and her boyfriend just starts implied-dating the soul who's in her body? or how kids who are infested from birth are just...gone, and they were like "well sweet we can just put Wanda in there, this is a perfect solution!" and that I think hit me so hard in comparison with having read Eleutherophobia--which is, by the way, a masterwork of fanfiction that wrecked me, overwrote canon a little bit in my brain, and I think fundamentally changed how I see the possibilities of writing and narration, so, you know. thank you for that!)

(also like, i know there's different worldbuilding where it's implied most hosts just...go away...but do they actually? because Mel and the Seeker's host are still there, which kind of implies to me that it's more of a problem than the souls want to admit?! and even outside humans, all the memories, and compulsions toward certain behaviors are still there! what makes a person in this universe of Meyer's?! it's kind of fundamentally horrifying?!)

apologies for this extremely long ask, haha, and i hope you're doing well, love your blog, your writing, and all your thoughts!

Oh my god, ALL OF THIS. I thoroughly enjoy the first 98% of The Host. It's a romance novel about consent! Where the characters have to struggle to resolve the plot in a way that gets the permission of everyone in the love quadrangle to boink everyone else, and spends over 500 pages doing exactly that! It's anti-imperialist as fuck! It's got an amazing supporting cast, like every Stephenie Meyer novel! The imagery is unparalleled in its richness and coolness, because Stephenie Meyer! I've written fan fiction about it! I have an extremely normal relationship with Kyle O'Shea!

And then Sunny. And then Wanda's unnamed second human host.

I think that Meyer, either because of romance genre conventions or pressure from publishers, felt she had to write a happy ending. But the book does such a good job of setting up an unresolvable moral dilemma — either Wanda gets to be with Ian, or she does the right thing by giving Melanie's body back — that there is no path to a happy ending. If Ian did as Wanda asked and sent her in a jar to some other planet, romance fans would feel cheated. If Doc did as Melanie asked and let Wanda stay in her body, then the book's anticolonial message would be for nothing.

But resolving it through PARASITING A KID IN A VEGETATIVE STATE? What if Doc makes Wanda a nice robot body? What if Wanda stays in a jar, but Ian finds a way to join her in the jar? What if she and Melanie set up a time share? Uuuuuugggggghhhhh. The Host was THIS CLOSE to being the best anticolonial novel ever written, and then falls on its face inches from the finish line.

Which, aside, is the reason I don't think Animorphs would ever work with a happy ending. "Happy" for the protagonists would never be morally okay in the bigger story.

[celandeline]

Okay this is my first time asking for a one shot so I hope this makes sense. Okay how about Farleigh and reader aren’t close friends but they are close like behind closed door (if you know what I mean) and like reader is sensitive. So one day Farleigh makes a joke about her without noticing she is there and like hurts her feelings. Like does that make sense obviously you can ignore this if you want. But you if you could write about the part where he is apologizing to her (smut will be great honestly), but you do whatever you want.

sorry this took so long - i promise i'm working through all the lovely asks you guys sent me, it's just taking a minute (school and shit, you know)

anyways!

I'm Sorry (In Not So Many Words)

Farleigh Start is a lot of things. At first glance, a stuck up bitch, but that’s only the first of many layers. He’s wicked smart when it comes to literary analysis, can write an argumentative essay like nobody’s business, and breezes through books faster than anybody else you know. He’s funny in a bitchy kind of way that’s distinctly American and not to everyone's taste, but definitely to yours. He’s fashionable to a fault - a bit of a diva, truly - but on more than one occasion has held your hair back so you can vomit vodka into the toilet. He always has enough weed or coke or acid tabs to share and always has extra room in his dorm for you to crash if you’re too high to get home. He’s mean and nice at the same time, and to most people, it’s confusing. But not to you. 

To anyone else, you’re friends. Barely friends, even, connected only by the fact that Felix and Annabel are kind-of-sort-of a thing. You would have never have even met him if Annabel hadn’t dragged you into Felix’s circle, but you’re glad that you did. It’s fun, finding excuses to get each other alone, patting concealer over hickeys you’re not ‘supposed’ to have. And he’s nicer behind closed doors, when he’s not putting on a show for his cousin. You might even go as far as to say that he’s sweet, when it's the two of you alone. Of course, you’d never tell anyone - not that anyone would believe you, either. 

So when you overhear Felix ask Farleigh if he’d ever consider going out with you to double date with him and Annabel and he laughs, an icicle shoots through your heart. It’s condescending, his laugh; it’s you’re kidding and I would never and you can’t be serious all at the same time, and it shoots through you like a bullet. 

You don’t show up to Kings Arms even though Annabel texts you that that’s where everyone is, instead holing up in your room, the sound of Farleigh’s laughter banging around in your head. You don’t know what the truth is. Has he just been leading you on this whole time? Pretending to like you for… what? It can’t be sex, he can get that with other people, it can’t be drugs, he always supplies them, it can’t be money either… but the way he laughed, like it was so ludicrous that he would ever consider going on an actual date - a double date, even, which is really only half a date - with you. And to think that you liked him. Even just as a friend. Maybe you were wrong to think that his bitchiness was a front - maybe that’s just who he is. Maybe you were wrong to think that he was anything else. Maybe-

A gentle knock at your dorm door interrupts your spiraling, and you get up from your bed, padding across the room to look out the peephole, and find a familiar puff of curls. You’re opening the door before you can really think about if you want to see him right now, just out of habit. 

Farleigh smiles at you, and breezes into your room like nothing’s wrong. “Did I leave my grinder in here?”

“I don’t know.” You say, closing the door and retreating back to your bed, watching him sort through the things on your desk, looking for the little blue grinder he keeps with the rest of his weed supplies. He sorts through your things like they’re his - and if you’re being honest, some of them are. Over the course of the semester, the line between what’s yours and what’s his has blurred significantly. 

He turns around at the sound of your voice, peering down at you. “What’s wrong with you?” It’s teasing and sympathetic at the same time. 

“Nothing.” You shrug. “I’m just not feeling well.”

He squints, moving from the desk to sit down on the bed next to you. “Uh huh.”

You’re really not in the mood for him right now. “Fuck off.” Why should you give him the time of day when he was so rude behind your back? You don’t really want to tell him off to his face - he’s quick as a whip in an argument, you’ve seen it firsthand - but you really, really, don’t want to see him right now. 

He laughs, sharp and surprised. “Wow.” He says. “What?”

You roll your eyes. “What, what?” You mock him. You know you’re being childish, but you don’t really care - it was childish of him to laugh. 

He rolls his eyes back at you. “What’s your problem?” He asks. “You were perfectly fine earlier, did I say something?”

“Obviously.” You say.

He waits for you to keep going, but you don’t. “You’re not going to tell me?”

“I heard you and Felix.” You snap. “Is the idea of actually going on a date with me in public, with other people, that fucking funny?”

His face shifts into something you don’t recognize. “I-”

“If you don’t want to do this anymore, you should just say so.” You keep going. “I thought that we were actually, I don’t know, friends, at least. Call me crazy but I felt like I actually knew you, and actually liked you.” You laugh. “I just-” You pause. “Nevermind. I guess I was stupid for thinking that it went both ways. I guess I shouldn’t have, I mean, I was watching you do this same shit to other people, I don’t know why I thought I would be different-”

“I wasn’t laughing at the idea of going out with you, I was laughing because there’s no way in hell I would ever go on a double date with Felix and Annabel. They’re fucking insufferable as is.” He interrupts you, placing a hand on your cheek and turning your face so that you’re looking at him. “Did you really think I was laughing at you?”

“I wouldn’t have been so pissed off if I didn’t think you were.” You say, not quite sure whether to believe him or not. “But-”

“I’ll take you out.” He says it casually, thumbing over your cheekbone. “Just us. We can go get dinner at that new place by the pubs. If you want.”

All of the anger and doubt that had been piling up on your chest is suddenly lifted. “That sounds great.”

“Cool.” He says, grinning, his hand still caressing the side of your face. His fingers trail down the side of your neck and then he’s cradling your head, pulling you closer to press his lips to yours - softly, gently. It’s an ‘I’m sorry’ in fewer words, but you know him well enough to read it as an apology. 

You kiss him back, pouring your sorry back into him. You shouldn’t have been so quick to assume that he was laughing at you, you should have had more faith in the fact that companionship is a two way street - he seeks you out as much as you do him. It’s mutual, and in the heat of the moment, you had forgotten that. Sweeping your tongue into his mouth, you smile against his lips when he sighs into the kiss. 

He pulls away so that his lips are just brushing yours. “Let me make it up to you?”

“You don’t have to.” You say, leaning back as he gently pushes you down on the mattress. “It was really my fault, I misunderstood-” 

He noses down your neck, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake as your back hits the mattress. His curls tickle your skin as he works down your collarbone, rucking up your shirt so that he can kiss down your stomach, looking up at you through his lashes as he does. Butterflies swirl in your stomach as he kisses over the skin. “Farleigh-”

“What?” It’s teasing and playful as he sits back on his heels to thumb at the waistband of your pants. He drops his voice slightly. “Can I?”

You nod, and he dips his fingers below your waistband, gently pulling your pants down to your ankles. You kick them off the rest of the way as he leans back down over you, holding your eyes with his as he noses between your thighs. You suck in a breath as his tongue makes contact with your skin, and a bolt of pleasure shoots through you. Your tip your head back against the mattress as he starts to work his mouth over you. He knows how to use his tongue - there’s a reason there’s a rumor about him sucking teachers off - and he puts it to work right away, diving in like he’s hungry for it. 

“Oh fuck-” You wind your fingers into his curls, tugging at the root. He moans into your skin, eyes fluttering shut at the feeling. It’s good - it’s always good with him. That’s another thing about Farleigh - you can always trust him to actually get you off. Unlike most of the other guys you’ve been with.

But you feel a little guilty that he thinks he has to make it up to you, when you were the one who didn’t bother to ask him what he meant. If anything, you should be sucking him off. Tugging more insistently at his hair, you pull him up to latch your lips together in a kiss, licking yourself off his skin. He pants against your lips. “Why’d you stop me?”

“I want you to fuck me.” You say. That way it’s even, that way, you’re both getting to enjoy yourselves. 

“Fuck. Okay.” He shucks his trousers and boxers down in one motion, kicking them down the bed. He’s already hard - but he usually is, after burying his head between your thighs - and you don’t hesitate to reach out and stroke him a few times, watching his face change into that almost pained look he gets when you fuck him.

You line him up, brushing his skin against yours, and watch as his eyelids drop to half mast as he pushes in. The stretch just borders on the edge of too much, but the groan he lets out distracts you from the sting. He always sounds so pretty when you’re like this, tangled up in the sheets of your too-small dorm room bed. You wind a hand into his hair and pull him down into the crook of your neck so that you can nip at his earlobe as he starts that slow, delicious grind you’ve come to associate with him. 

He sinks his teeth into the skin of your neck, gently biting over a hickey that he left only a couple days before, refreshing the mark as he muffles a groan. You trail your lips down the shell of his ear until you find his neck again, doing the same. His hips stutter into yours as you suck at the tender skin of his neck, and you smile. Even though he’s on top, he’s still putty in your hands - or mouth, really.

“Farleigh.” You whisper against the mark you just left.

“Mm, what?” He nips at your collarbone.

“Switch with me.” You say. “Let me on top.”

He laughs, a breathy thing that borders on a whine. “I’m supposed to be making it up to you-”

“Which is why you should let me on top.” You say. 

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you-”

“Please?”

His hips stutter against yours again, and that's how you know you’ve got him. He pulls you tight to his chest, wrapping his arms around you, and rolls across the mattress until he’s flat on his back and you’re straddling him without ever pulling out. Sitting up, you take in the sight of him, pupils blown wide, lips still slick with spit, a blooming mark peeking out from behind his ear, and plant your hands on his chest for leverage as you start to bounce. 

He grins, tucking his bottom lip between his teeth to muffle the moan that forces its way out of his chest as you work yourself up and down his cock, his hands finding their place on your hips, fingers digging into your skin. You purposefully scratch your fingernails down his chest to watch him squirm, and he uses his grip on your hips to fuck up into you, to watch you falter. It’s a fun game that you play, who can make the other keen and whine more, made even more fun by the fact that more often than not, you win. 

“Fuck, fuck-” Farleigh rasps, his grip tightening as he takes over your bouncing for you. You let him move you at his own pace, able to tell just by the way he whines that he’s close. He throws his head back and you watch his stomach tighten as he lets out a long groan. His whole body tenses, and then stills. You wait for his eyes to flutter open before you start bouncing again. 

He gasps, a high pitched laugh leaving his lips. “Shit-”

“I’m almost there.” You say, watching his face as the coil tightens in your gut. 

“Take your time.” He says, panting. “I’m good.”

He always says that, but you know it’s only a matter of time before it’s too much and he starts to grit his teeth. You know what it’s like - you’ve been on the other end before, already came but Farleigh’s still fucking, the drag growing more overstimulating the longer it goes on. So you bounce faster, focusing on the way he looks underneath you, debauched and panting, eyes half lidded as he watches you go up and down, sweat gathering in the hollow of his neck. God, he’s so beautiful. 

“Ah-” 

You shake apart on top of him, and he catches you as you slump down onto his chest, arms wrapping around your middle. You nose into the crook of his neck with a sigh, contentment washing over you. “‘M sorry.”

“For what?”

“Being stupid. Thinking you were laughing at me. Sulking about it.” You say, pressing a kiss to the warmth of his skin. 

“‘M sorry for making you think I was laughing at you.” He says. 

You sigh. “We’re good?”

“We’re good.” He says. You can hear the smile in his voice.

[im-not-samantha-im-samanta]

Request by: @jellibean2018

Hello, Jelli! About two months ago you sent in a request, however my tumbl did me dirty, and I ended up with your ask, and the entire fic deleted! (Though, much to my relief, I found screenshots of the fic in a chat with my friend who was reviewing it. Thank god).

So, I have to tag you, and remind you what you wanted.

From what I remember, you wanted a fic with a female sinner Reader who was once a victim of Alastor's, and the two ending up meeting again in hell. You also wanted an unsettling vibe with Alastor reveling in the memory of killing Reader.

I also want to add that I apologize for how long you had to wait for this fic to be done. I haven't been doing well with fics lately, so this was a struggle. And my mental health started going shit too which is why I stopped posting for so long...

Anyways, I really started to struggle with writing fics, so I ended up experimenting with this one - it's kind of written with huge metaphor kind of style? Hope that's okay with you...

Anyways, hope you'll enjoy reading this at least a little, and I once again apologize.

_

🎙️// The sweet history we share... //🎙️

{Alastor x female!Reader}

___________________________________________

Type: Fanfic

Settings: Not specified

Genre: Unsettling? Can't tell if it actually gives that vibe though,

!TRIGGER WARNING!: Mentions of cannibalism, murder, violence, blood, saliva, dead bodies, Alastor revels in the memory of killing Reader, possible yandere vibes? Alastor sees Reader as nothing but a meal, but he puts her on a pedestal - that's probably some kind of fucked up attachment that surely has a name? I'd say the vibe is quite unsettling, but I can't say that for sure, Angel indirectly suggests the use of drugs and hints at sex related activities (but it's just a single line), and that's probably all?

Sidenote: Reader is written as a female just as requested,

Sidenote: I have no idea if I wrote Alastor well... but it feels like I really made him ooc as fuck and ruined the whole request,

Sidenote: Rereading this I think everyone is ooc as fuck even if they have minimum dialogue,

_

That should be all,

Hope you'll enjoy,

___________________________________________

Ah, nostalgia. Ah that sweet nostalgia. And that embrace of her.

She comes in unannounced, an unexpected guest. But oh is she welcome.

And oh so welcome are those treats she brings to the table.

She easily settles in, making herself at home. And into a cup, a bunch of memories she pours.

And that demon, the radio demon as he's called - he drinks from that cup greedily.

And like a man dying of thirst, he can't help but ask for another cup to be poured.

His senses feel high, his body tingling. A feeling of addiction is what fills him.

And he can't get enough of those sweet memories, so, he downs one cup after the other.

But with each greedy little sip, the thirst only grows and grows - he's not had his fill still.

So, the demon goes on and on, tasting one memory after the other.

And his mouth waters a big deal the more he can taste, and he savours each and every one.

Ah, and he can't tell which one of the sips of memories he enjoys the most, which one is the most saliva inducing one.

Is it maybe the giddy old memory of how he followed you through the town?

With you completely unaware? Naively trusting those poorly enlightened streets?

Trusting that a bit of weak light will keep you safe?

Or perhaps it could be the sweet memory of the thrilling chase through the forest?

That one forest where thousands of dead bodies laid buried deep in the ground?

Those dead bodies in whose footsteps you followed suit?

Oh! And what about that memory of how you so desperately tried to navigate around and hide, escape his clutches?

Even if he could hear your sharp breaths as clear as the day?

Oh! Or maybe his favourite one could be the moment of when he tackled you down?

Pinning your body under his, finally cutting the chase so the real fun can begin?

And that beautiful moment of how you hopelessly dug your nails into his skin til blood trailed down his arms?

That one beautiful moment engraved into his head of how you desperately clawed at those lanky hands of his?

His hands that trailed, squeezed and pinched at your body, feeling you up like a winning prize, like a fine piece of venison?

Ah, it was so hard to pick which one was the most treasured one!

Hell, it could even be the simple memory of the melodious sounds of your cries.

That melodious, angelic sound of your pleading, whimpering, sobbing and screaming.

Especially those sounds you made when he bit down onto your flesh.

Oh, and that taste that hit his taste buds back then...

He still remembers it like it was yesterday.

And his tongue still tingles, and saliva still floods his mouth every time he thinks of just how tasty you were back then.

And now his mouth waters as he silently wonders... would you still have such taste even now?

Or did becoming a demon change the sweet, addictive flavour of your fragile flesh and thick blood?

Oh, how his senses urge him - beg him - to just grab you and take at least one single little bite...

I'd be really easy too, now that you're a part of the hotel staff.

Silly little you, you didn't flee when you were faced with the fact that he - the one who took your life - also works for the hell's princess now.

You didn't take the more than gracious chance to turn on your trail, run and never return while you still could.

No, you are too stubborn, and you insist on staying, even despite how frightening seeing him on the daily is for you.

Silly little you! Don't you realize how easily he could snatch you away and repeat history?

All it would take is a single moment of when you're alone and-

Ah, but he can't do that - at least not yet...

Where would be the fun in that?

It sure would be a shame to end your lovely reunion this fast and early on, no?

Not to mention the odd, messed up attachment the deer demon feels towards you...

Now, not to be mistaken! What he feels isn't the usual attachment one would think of!

It definitely isn't the good or healthy kind either...

So, we shall not be mistaken, let's not get our hopes up and think he cares - for he doesn't.

You mean nothing to him - at least as far as it comes to you as a person.

Your value could be most likely compared to something of a sentimental value, a plaything at best if you will.

Still, no matter what you are to him - you are by far his most favourite one at that.

That's what can be said for a fact.

And for reasons beyond us and even Alastor, those memories he shares with you are put on a pedestal - put way above the rest.

There were so many faces that twisted in fear, so many names he kept tabs on, so many tastes he's tried, and so many lives he's taken.

But very vast portion of them is long forgotten, not really standing out all that much.

Nor holding any real value. Barely any of them mattered...

But you, on the other hand - oh, he could never forget about that one lovely night you shared...

And even when more victims - more faces, more names, more tastes - came, they couldn't compare.

No, they never could.

Those memories of you and your taste were always stuck in the back of the radio demon's head no matter what new person was on the menu - what new dish was on his plate...

So, one can only imagine just what he feels now that you're back within his grasp.

Oh, not even his wildest fantasies could've come up with or prepare him for such sweet moment!

This was like a gift from the Devil himself!

Yes, a gift - one that Alastor would make sure to cherish greatly...

Ah yes, he would cherish you so.

He'd take his time unwrapping you like the perfect little gift that you are - he would savour you.

And only when he'd get tired of messing with you, only then he'd get to the real deal.

Oh, and when he'll finally do, it'll be like a starving man plunging onto bread crumbs!

It'll be such a beautiful, satisfactorily moment - Alastor can almost feel himself drooling at the mere thought of the moment.

Oh, how he just can't wait for the very moment!

The moment is so close, and yet so far - and every little glance your way is like a test.

A test of how long he can resist the temptation.

Every little move you make, every little noise that leaves you, every little expression your face twists into.

Oh, he can barely hold himself back!

His body feels so restless, and his thoughts are all over the place.

And no matter how much he reminds himself to be patient, to not cut straight to the chase just yet.

He still can barely keep himself in check.

His thoughts are going to dangerous places, and your familiar, sweet scent teases his nose.

Oh, and you're so within reach too!

It'd really just take a single little moment and-

"Geez, that perv's still at it?".

Oh, that's right.

He's almost forgotten about those curious eyes watching him from afar.

Watching, and trying to see inside his head...

But judging by the response Vaggie's hateful comment receives, it seems she's the only one to see right through him.

The only one to see the real danger behind that wide smile he always wears...

"Ya-uh! His eyes have not left her ever since she's joined the hotel staff!".

Ah, Charlie. Dear, sweet Charlie - now she's something else.

She's completely different from her girlfriend - she's quite naively trusting and optimistic.

Fully believing that there's a piece of good in everyone.

And hence not being concerned for your safety when the deer demon started to show an interest in you.

Ah, that sweet, silly little thing.

Caught up in trying to see only the best in people and their intentions...

It's amusing - and truly adorable.

And oh, does it play into Alastor's favour oh so well...

"Okay, that's like so sick and totally-".

Oh, Vaggie - she tries, she really tried to warn the others.

Make them see Alastor for what he truly is.

But aside from Husk, nobody really listens to Vaggie's concerns.

No, she's not all that listened to when she voices her opinions on the deer demon.

Not even when she expresses her concerns for how the latter constantly follows your every single step no matter the time of the day, no matter where you go...

And to think she has quite enough of a say in things as the hotel's manager, as well as the princess' girlfriend!

Oh, that poor little thing - it must be such an awful feeling.

How humorous!

And oh, how unfortunate...

"Ah! Do you think he's-?".

Niffty is completely on board with Charlie.

Similarly to the princess - she too doesn't see the real harm in Alastor's advances towards you.

Seeing his behaviour as nothing other than subtle romantic gestures.

The little demoness' version of romance sure is rather twisted...

And yet, it's still quite surprising Niffty doesn't see the harm in things.

After all, she herself knows Alastor just as well as Husk does...

"Yeah! Strawberry pimp totally got the hots for that one!".

Angel was caught up in the spiderweb of romanticizing the same thing as well.

Just like Charlie and Niffty, he couldn't see the truth...

"What? No! Are you all crazy?! That's not the case at all! How can you all not see that?!".

Oh, Vaggie - again and again, she really tries and tries.

But the result is always the same - nobody pays her warnings or concerns any thought.

And yet she still keeps on going.

What a miserable little thing she is.

"Oh my- I have like the best idea!".

Not even Charlie notices how Vaggie nearly begs for them all to see things from her point of view.

None of them can see things for what they really are.

Alastor's got them all right where he wants them.

Without even having to try much...

"We should totally get the two to have some alone time!".

Charlie is quick to naively play into the radio demon's games.

Without even knowing she's doing that.

She can't see this all is exactly what the deer demon wants...

And neither can Angel or Niffty.

Aw, those naive little fools...

"Yes! We should- like- create some really romantic atmosphere and leave them to it!".

Niffty follows through in Charlie's steps.

She too plays right into what Alastor wants.

Though whether or not she's aware of it is up for a debate...

"We should lock 'em up in a closet together or somethin', or even give them a little... somethin'... to just... ya know, set just the right mood in.".

And angel is quick to fall for Alastor's games too...

Ah, those silly fools...

Unaware they're making all this much easier than it should've been.

They're sealing your doom - the inevitable end you're ought to meet at his clutches.

They're making this all too easy...

They're shoving the little mouse right into the lion's den.

What unfortunate silly fools.

And what an unfortunate little you.

Your friends are serving you to him on a silver platter.

All of them - or nearly all of them - thinking they're doing you a favour.

Thinking they're simply helping a mere fool in love gain the heart of his love interest.

When in reality, they're actually helping a starving predator get closer to his chosen prey...

It was rather humorous - a good source of entertainment for sure.

So, Alastor would humour the group.

He'd indulge in their schemes of trying to set you up with him.

He'd gladly play along and lead them to think he's interested in you.

Well, interested in you they way they think he is, not the way he actually is...

No, they can't know what he actually wants from you.

They won't know.

He'll make sure of it.

They won't know until the very last moment, until the deed's already done.

Or, he'll lead them to think your disappearance has nothing to do with him.

After all, the sudden disappearance of a poor little sinner like you would be nothing new in hell.

You'd just be added to the endlessly growing numbers of hell inhabitants going missing.

Your disappearance would be just a part of the mere statistics.

Well, he'll see.

All depends on which option would prove to bring more benefit.

As well as which one would prove to be more entertaining.

That's what, to the deer demon, matters the most at the end of the day.

For now, he'll just go with the flow and let the situation progress by itself.

With the occasional shove to the right direction, of course.

But it doesn't seem like he needs to wait for that long for everything to be set in motion...

"Hey, Al, you got a minute?".

Yeah, he really doesn't need to wait for that long...

___________________________________________

[sulfies]

Mermay Fic pt1

Ezio always felt bad about the small number of humble gondoliers he sent into the canale for a swim, he really did. He did try to apologize the first couple of times but honestly, he just did not have the time for it anymore. He usually did just toss them coins if anybody did walk up to him all angry the next day at the square.

And it truly was not that big of a deal, It's just water… 

“Oh did you hear-”

Ezio picked up his freshly repaired boots from the apprentice of the cobbler when trained ears picked up on the two ladies gossiping about the latest in Venice.

“No wait he did not! The assassin?!”

Who? Did what? What did he get up to this time? Ezio nodded at the shop as he slowly walked closer getting into the earshot more to get the full story on his new supposed doings…

“Yes Yes! Elena saw it too! He was docked as he always is around those times, you know that man likes a schedule” The other woman nodded agreeing and Ezio held a sigh.

Stalling aren't we… get to the juicy bits woman. His foot tapped on the stone ground

“and suddenly the brute jumps down on him and throws him into the canale, doesn't even yell sorry or look back, just takes off with the gondola!”

The other woman did an offended gasp as Ezio finally also clocked what they were talking about

“And I normally like the assassin guy too! So I was shocked ofcourse, everyone was-”

He tilted his head remembering yesterday's run-ins, Yes maybe he did throw another one into the Canales torrents as he was on a chase but what was the big deal this time, if he got legs he can swim, it's not like the gondolier was-

“I mean what kind of a sane man throws a paralyzed man into the water and steals his boat!”

Oh…

The gondolier was Paralyzed...

Nothing is True everything is allowed so might as well toss a disabled towner into the water Ezio!

“Well was he all right? Is he injured?” 

Yes was he? Ezio wanted to rush out to the woman and shake her asking if his victim was okay, what was his address and would he accept a sorry in payments.

“Thankfully no, but he refused to let us help him out…” The woman's tone took a curious tune. “It was weird but he was probably embarrassed and didn't want people to see… you know…” The hand gesture around the legs told what she meant and it only drew another stake at Ezios heart so Ezio took it as his cue to leave and look for the man.

Well… He fucked around too much and now has to beg this old dude for forgiveness…. 

He looked at the new boots in his hand… can't even give him these, great fuckup Ezio. Leo will laugh his ass off about this.

—------------------

It took him two days to track the man down, turns out when half the city is traversable via water everyone tries being a gondolier at least once, but this one has made a name for himself, which did not help Ezios conscience because all everyone said was;

“Oh, that man? yes, you can find him around here when the sun is up midday, very sweet and strange that one, always jokes with the others, nice to talk to.”

”Oh you mean him? Such a nice fella always chats to me about my day…”

”Paralyzed Gondolier…. ah you mean the nice one that hangs around here all day?”

So needless to say Ezio was sweating a bit but he was here to make things right!

His purse was heavier than usual today with an apology gift added into it, he walked the middle district scanning over any water he could see as he passed the bridges, he came to an opening of a small courtyard where people were sitting under the tree on benches and some street kids were playing around. It was one of those areas that had access to the water via stairs and docks. It was one of the busier yards since it had few shops around it too.

Ezio realized this was, in fact, the route he took 3 days ago, hopefully finding him will be easy, there can't be that many disabled gondola rowers. His eyes moved over the body of water,  there were 5 gondoliers docked near just hanging about, 2 of them sitting on a dock near their boats. He tried to look for an old weak man but the one he did notice did not show up on his eagle vision at all. 

When the same man also got up to stretch Ezio erased him off of possible victims.

Then he caught a flicker of gold light and his eyes zeroed into a golden bright figure on the left,

He blinked turning the vision on and off a couple of times...

”Ah cazzo, just my luck”

He didn't almost drown an old man who couldn't walk, he almost drowned one of the most handsome gondoliers in Venice.

[v3nusxsky]

Hii can I request one where reader is a very good student and the type of person who never gets in trouble or anything, but one day Larissa gets called to go get them at the police station because they got in a really bad fight, so on the way back she is kind of scolding them and reader doesn't open their mouths until they get to the school and reader just can't leave the car because they're scared, turna out they got into that fight because some jerks where being very homophobic/transphobic towards them and tried to physically hurt them so reader was just protecting themselves.

I know it can be a bit confusing, but I hope you can understand

Set up

*Authors note~ venting my feelings for this*

Trigger warnings ~ homophobia shitty friends fake friends arrest for assault hinted sexual assault

Prompt~ see ask^^^

How did you get here? Head resting against the dirty block of wood as deep marron flowers adorned your hair, vines attempting to fight their way out of your ivory gloves. All clear signs of the deep pain you were in. Yet the officers didn’t seem to care here, all they cared about was that you had hit another person. Maybe if they’d asked why it would’ve made more sense. But they never do.

Larissa Weems was fuming, it was extremely unlike you to do something like this. Violence is something you are terrified of, she almost asked the officer to check the Id of her student again. It couldn’t be you. Only this time it was. Normally this journey is done to fetch Wednesday Addams, not her estranged twin. Wednesday being your complete opposite meant you were sent to live in a facility to help tame your powers from a young age. Mortica hated it but it was necessary as you could be a danger to everyone your near.

“Let’s go” Larissa demanded making sure to add her frustration and disappointment to her tone. She was expecting some fight, an explanation but all she got was silence. Much like the police officer had warned her. Since you were brought in and questioned for assault you’d said nothing. Odd. You’d spent many evenings in Larissa’s office to catch up on studies and you were never non verbal even when things were tough.

The car journey being the exact same silence, your eyes holding all your emotions along with the flowers in your hair. Really you were just processing what happened which meant you couldn’t escape your head. Everything and everyone around you blurred into the background until the engine shut off.

“Come on daring” Larissa tried but was met with you looking like a deer caught in headlights, shaking your head. “Why? It’s Nevermore dear, you’re safe at Nevermore you know that right?” Was all it took for you to break down into silent sobs as you clung to be car door repeatedly mumbling no and don’t make me over and over.

As if she was approaching a scared cat she slowly sat back in the car shutting the door and waiting for you to make a move. It took some time but if there’s one thing about the principal it’s that she is a patient woman who would do anything for Nevermore and those within its walls.

When you moved it was like every inch was like waiting hours but eventually you lent over to lean your head on the woman’s lap as you tried to calm yourself. A gentle hand began to rub soothing circles on your back but accidentally hitting a sore spot causing you to help out. “Oh my darling, I’m sorry I didn’t know” she murmured which caused you to sit up tears silently running. “It’s my fault, they think I’m a freak. I shouldn’t like girls it’s wrong. Mother would be disappointed in me.”

“Darling, you can like whoever you want… is that what happened?” She murmured and you shook your head sadly. “I thought we were good friends, but she took me to this group of people and they kept trying to-“ you sucked a deep breath in, “touch me and I didn’t want them to!” You sobbed finally feeling relief of exposing the situation.

“Oh sweet one, you were defending yourself hmm?” Which you nodded sadly and whimpered apologies for dragging the schools name into this, that Larissa had to leave her quarters at such a late hour. It was truly heartbreaking but now she knew, she would protect you and any of her students from this pain again. It got to the point you’d exhausted yourself and fallen asleep in the car so she gently scooped you up and took you to the spare room near her quarters to make sure you were okay. It wasn’t easy but you had her for the long and painful journey of learning to love yourself for who you love.

[whatthehellami]

The villain startled awake.

"My apologies, I did not mean to disturb." The hero's smooth voice sent shivers down the villain's spine. The light did not reach the corner the hero was seated at and the smile on hero's face was less than reassuring. It was similar to the sympathetic smile which a doctor gave to a man who had lost his wife and child. Villain felt like wiping it off hero's face, but they restrained themselves.

"What do you want?" The villain spat, hoping they put up a convincing act of bravery. The Hero's eyes seemed calculating, skirting over Villain's entire body.

"Oh? It is quite amusing to see you offer. Do you think you have the privilege of offering something to me? You're quite literally a beggar, mate." The hero laughed.

The villain sat in front of the hero fuming with anger and a face red with embarrassment. They looked at the Hero, full of mirth and they had the sudden urge to ruin all of it. The Golden Savior of the country was actually a piece of shit and everyone deserved to know the truth.

The hero beckoned for a waiter.

"Hero, I really am so pitiful am I not? So pathetic, I don't have anything, do I? The villain smiled. The waiter came and served something to the hero but the villain was less than interested in food.

Revenge will be sweet indeed.

[minisugakoobies]

*cackles evilly* Um, I mean- *coughs and smiles*

How about Mr. Bahng with (getting pinned against a wall) and ("God, you’re making me so fucking hard right now.")? Because, you know, you were one of the culprits who sent me down delulu land for him? 😒🧃💕

AJ, my beloved, anything for you! I'm still not sorry about the Chan brainrot 😆 and I can't wait to dig into Spin You soon 💕

Title: Keep It Secret Pairing: Chan x Gender Neutral Reader Rating: M(18+) Genre: Smut, Friends to Lovers Warnings: dirty texts, sneaking around, implied sex

(Apologies for any typos, ya girl is buzzed) The thing about sneaking around behind your friends' backs is - you're supposed to keep it secret.

But as you sit at the restaurant table where your group of friends are toasting to Minho's promotion, you're starting to worry that the others are going to know that you and Chan have been fucking.

Mainly because you can't stop looking at the texts he's been sending all night:

Channie: You look so fucking good tonight

Channie: Did you wear that dress just for me?

You bite your lip, thumbs flying over the screen, hoping the others don't see you. Because if they catch you texting, they'll be all up in your business faster than lightning. Your friends are amazing, but they're also the nosiest fuckers you've ever met.

Which is why you and Chan haven't told them about the hookups. The nights spent in each other's beds. The afternoons on your couches, him as deep inside you as he can possibly get. They'd have too many questions, want to know about labels. Neither of you want to deal with that.

So you try to hide it.

You: Yeah, I did. You like?

Casually, you lean forward, reaching for the bottle of wine Felix graciously bought for the table. But really, you're just letting Chan get an eyeful of your cleavage as he covertly gazes at you from the other side of the table. His blond hair falls gently over his brow as he bows his head over his lap, where his phone must rest.

Channie: Fuck dessert

Channie: Gonna eat you up instead

His last text has you shifting in your seat, rubbing your thighs together, desperate for any sort of friction. Jeongin, sitting next to you, notices.

"You okay there?" he asks, tilting his head with curiosity.

"I'm fine! Just… been a long week. Ready to get out of here and hit the dance floor." That's the plan for the evening - dinner, drinks, and dancing. But you're hoping to find time to fit something else in.

(Or rather, someone.)

The waiter comes around with everyone's desserts. You scoop up a spoonful of Makgeolli ice cream. Everyone's attention is on Minho as he tells a story. Everyone, that is, except Chan, who watches with naked interest as you close your lips around the cold treat, eyes fluttering shut as the sinful sweetness hits your tongue.

The spoon comes out clean, but a drop dribbles down your bottom lip. When you open your eyes, you stare directly at Chan as you lick the errant drop away. Delicious.

Not even a half second later, your phone buzzes in your hand.

Channie: God, you’re making me so fucking hard right now

You can't wait a second longer. Rising, you smooth down your skirt, letting your fingers brush over your thighs, knowing he's looking.

"I'm just going to use the rest room."

It's probably not the smartest idea, with all of your friends here, to do this now. But two minutes later, when there's a knock and another text -

Channie: Let me in, baby

and as soon as you open the door, he pins you to the wall, you realize that even if they figure it out -

It's worth it.

Masterlist 💜 Find me on AO3 💜 

© 2023 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost.

[babiebom]

Heyy it's me again, lol. Ur criminal minds hcs for Reid were so good!! Thank u for blessing me. 🙌🏻 I was wondering if ud be down to write maybe a one-shot or a drabble of Reid comforting a reader (I almost wrote reider bc I spaced out and like akjsldj) who just had friends leave them when they thought they were really close? I hope that's not too specific!! Thank you sm for blessing the world with ur writing. It literally makes my day so much brighter whenever you post. 🥰

A/N: CUTE!! Reider would be a really cute fandom name for him ngl. Also I’ve fallen out of contact with friends that I thought were gonna be in it for the long run with me but unfortunately it just didn’t work out that way even if we didn’t fall out. ALSO specifics are great with me because then it’s clear what I need to write and what you want me to write so don’t apologize!! Can you tell I don’t know how to comfort anyone?

Tw: some cursing, some abandonment issues, mentions of bullying within the friend group. Isolation, ghosting. Lmk if there’s something I should tag!

Genre: angst, one shot, some fluff

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (can be read platonically or romantically in think. Also can be read as gender neutral maybe?) if I added pronouns or descriptors let me know!!

Wc:1.3k

Criminal Minds Masterlist

It’s strange when you break up with a friend, even more so when the reason that you breakup is something stupid, something avoidable. It hurts even more when you get abandoned, ghosted by someone you thought would be in your life for the rest of it. No one ever prepares you for friendships ending. You get prepared for romantic relationships, death, and maybe sometimes you drift apart from friends but even then you’re prepared.

You stare at the group chat that had defined your childhood and teenage years. Stare at the names followed by “has left the chat” with a feeling in your heart that is only rivaled by death of a loved one if you remembered correctly. It had been a while.

It was a petty argument that only lasted a day, something about how everyone treated you. You regretted bringing it up on the first day that you had been ignored after sending a message. That day turned into a week which turned into them all leaving the group chat without telling you which hurt more than being kicked out of it. Did you really mean that little that they would ghost you that easily?

You never started arguments usually. You never even participated in them, trying to stay neutral in order to keep everyone happy. Always passive and agreeable and everyone liked you that way. The one time you have something to get off your chest…maybe you shouldn’t have said anything.

You tried to message one of your friends first, you hadn’t known her as long as some of the others in the group, but she was always sweet and didn’t seem like the type to ghost.

You 5:43 pm: Irene what happened? I saw you all left the group chat. Is something wrong?

You don’t get an answer back for an hour. And it makes your heart squeeze in your chest. It isn’t really an answer, but at the same time it answered both of your questions. To her you didn’t really matter all that much and something was really wrong.

Irene 7:01 pm: just leave me alone. You said what you needed to say, if you message me again I’ll block you.

You try again with a different friend. One you have known a little longer. One who had complained to you and confided in you and one that you thought you were close to than this.

He doesn’t answer at all, and neither do the other two that you message. Eventually you figure out that your messages never sent because you had been blocked. Going to their instagrams and twitters, everything is gone as soon as you click on them. Even their TikTok’s have nothing for you to look at.

Soon enough you’re fighting off tears, your chest tight and your stomach swirling. Was speaking up for yourself really worth this? Your head spins and your vision becomes blurry as you click on the last contact that’s available to you.

Your best friend. Having known her for the longest time out of all of them, you’d think she’d say something before doing something like this. You two met in elementary school, and were friends before the group got together. If you think about it more your friendship reminded you of the one in Jennifer’s Body. Except instead of saving everyone, you were being ignored and abandoned by the person you thought was going to be there even if everyone else wouldn’t. The person that you thought you could rely on.

But before you could message her, one came straight to you. The bubbles popping up as she’s typing something else. You can’t really understand the first paragraph, your mind to overwhelmed by the weeks events to be able to read.

Emilie 7:42 pm: I just wanted to message you before you tried anything with me. I’m honestly not interested in talking to you anymore after how you talked to me and my friends. None of us want you in the group anymore, and honestly it’s fucking pathetic that you’re reaching out and asking if anything is wrong when you’re the reason everyone was upset in the first place. Like you said we were shit friends, and now you wanna act like everything confuses you? If we were so shitty to you, why do you want us to still talk to you? I told Jacob, Josh, Irene, and Paisley to block you if you message them because honestly they don’t need you to try to beg and plead with them. You’re toxic and we’re done with you. Honestly, you look pathetic and desperate for attention messaging all of us like this. I’m not even gonna bother blocking you because it doesn’t really matter that much to me and maybe in the future I could be open to being friends again but for right now, I’m over it. Bye. You should do better.

Now the tears fall down your face, hot and burning as they trail down your cheeks and onto the screen of your phone. Going onto instagram to doom scroll your feelings away, you are immediately met with a photo of your friend group hanging out without you. Taken aback, you try to bring yourself to unfollow Emilie, to block her and effectively cut her out of your life while your wounds are fresh and your friendship is newly ended so you don’t have to torture yourself. But that’s exactly what you do, torture yourself. Instead of unfollowing her, deleting all of the pictures of her and your friend group from your feed, you scroll through them, the tears falling faster the longer you sit there and reminisce. You don’t even hear the front door open and close, and the only reason you know it did is because of the weight that causes you to lean towards the new person in the bed. Warmth blankets around you, the feeling of arms wrapped around your body brings you out of your mind.

Turning to look at the man next to you, you see that Spencer is looking at you as if you’re a wounded animal and it makes you burst out into tears. Maybe you really did look pathetic. “Oh no…what happened?”

You tried to explain, but couldn’t properly while you were blubbering. Instead you just throw your phone to him and let your head fall into your hands. He takes a literal second to read, then lets out a gust of air that usually meant he was surprised and didn’t know what to say.

He moves to hug you again, resting his head on top of yours. “You know…they say that it takes 200 hours to form a close friendship with someone. And when that friendship ends unexpectedly, it can cause a multitude of issues in the future with how you trust and open up to people…”

His ramblings weren’t all that comforting, but just hearing him speak made you start to feel better. Of course he would attempt to make things better by spouting facts that one hundred percent would make anyone else annoyed at him. You snuggle into his arms, nodding your head to show that you’re listening in between sobs. “S-so how long until I s-stop feeling like my h-heart is broken?” You ask. It did somehow feel like being broken up with, or having someone die.

“Well, most grief experts think that a year is a good estimate on how long it takes to get used to the loss of someone major in your life…”

“A year?” You whine, letting your head tilt backwards dramatically. “That’s too long!” It’s kind of a joke, the way you say it. But the way he looks at you lets you know that he knows you’re being somewhat serious.

“She was your best friend…of course it’s going to take some time to get used to not talking to her…however long you take to grieve is how long it’s going to take. It’s not a complete science.”

You nod, and hide your face in his chest. While you still felt like the Earth was ending, maybe it’s not ending right this second anymore.