#and the feeling of helplessness that can give to a person who wasn't there | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jonivngel · 2 months ago

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𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐧. (𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐧𝐞.)

𝐬𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨

part 1: sharing is caring; part 2: dinner; part 3: devotion.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲:

His other lover left a message for you, carved into the flesh of your beloved, love-bites on his neck and scratches on his chest and back...

"I want to meet him."

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,876

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 18+ ONLY, NSFW! CONTENT, MDNI, infidelity, unprotected sex, cucking (just a lil), polyamory, threesomes, weird pillow talk

a/n: part two is out! decided to write a part three soon upon the request of an anon.

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠.

He smells of cherry liquor when he returns home. He'd give the excuse he's meeting with his allies for staying out so late, plotting the downfall of Jujutsu Society and those damned higher-ups who cast him out as a child. But you know he only drinks whiskey and red wine, yet the bitter-sweet taste on his lips gets you drunk and you have no choice but to ignore the infidelity happening behind your back.

He'd call out his name when he's asleep. He dreamt of him so many times you'd lost count but stayed awake every night to see if something had changed- if he'd call out your name instead. Sometimes you'd wake him up, tell him he was yelling in his sleep and that it scared you. Then he'd kiss your forehead and apologize, pull you closer and hug you like you were the one he wanted to be with.

You'd find notes in his coat pockets, saying where and when to meet, it was as if he wasn't even trying to hide it. You knew, though, that this man your lover was seeing was a secret that could never come to light. You were the one by his side, you were the one everyone knew about. You held onto that belief like it was your lifeline, like it mattered at all when you knew your position was only temporary. A distraction from the cruel reality that Suguru couldn't be with him.

It turned you bitter. How sweet it must've been to meet each other against all odds, to still want to be close to one another after everything they've been through. To meet under the veil of secrecy, so intimate and heart-wrenching. You didn't want to share, yet it felt horrible to think about stepping in between them, knowing full well he wouldn't choose you in the end.

So you stay silent and taste the bitter taste of cherry liquor on his lips, smell the faint scent of cinnamon and vanilla in his hair. Your heart aches with the thought of sharing your beloved, the man you so deeply adored. Then again, it fuels a fire within you, something you've never felt before, and every night turns into a chance to prove your love for him.

You surrender your body and your soul and he takes you for all you're worth, kissing you and loving you more and more passionately each time your bodies find themselves tangled in the cold darkness of your shared bedroom. You get addicted to the thought of him with his other lover, fully aware that, truthfully, you are the other. It gets you going and you become someone you don't recognize, you coax him into bed whenever you feel him straying. You make him feel so good he calls out your name in desperation, satiated and still craving more, you give, you give and you take from him.

You become malicious in the way you love him, taking control and denying him satisfaction, making him beg for it.

Until one night he comes home late, drunk and disheveled. You see the bites on his neck, the scratches on his back when he takes his shirt off and you feel rage boil in your blood. His other lover left a message for you, carved into the flesh of your beloved and your eyes tear up. How could he disrespect you so blatantly? You feel helpless and betrayed by a person you've never seen before, the one who took a part of your beloved already and was trying to take more.

“I want to meet him.”

You can tell you've just turned his world upside down with only one sentence because he freezes and then let's his hair down to cover the marks on his neck.

“Who?”

You're already naked in bed, waiting for him, but you stand up and walk over to stop him from putting on his T-shirt. You yank it from him and throw it on the ground, “He can't do this. I don't want to see it, Suguru.” You say with a wobbly voice, dragging your finger across the scratches on his chest.

He takes your wrist to stop you from touching him. “I don't know what you're talking about.” His eyes have turned cold and the emptiness in his voice makes your stomach turn with unease.

“Suguru, I didn't say anything. I've let you be with him because I know there is no other way. But I don't want to have to see how he touched you and-” You feel sick to your stomach. “I want to meet him.”

His gaze softens and he hums, contemplating how to proceed. “How long have you known?”

You huff in frustration, not believing he thought you were that stupid when the signs were so obvious. He wasn't even trying to hide it and he had the gall to ask you how long you've known. “Since forever. That's why I believe I deserve to meet the man my lover is trying to hide from me.”

He chuckles, placing his hand on your bare back and tracing his fingers down your spine. “How do you think you two should meet?” He says and pulls you into him, fueling that fire in the pit of your stomach with every graze of his cold fingers against your burning skin.

You feel yourself mellowing out, “Dinner?” You whisper as he leads you to your bed, making you crash onto it as he sneaks between your legs and starts kissing your thighs. “I don't know what would be appropriate.”

He drags his tongue along your inner thigh and you squirm, feeling frustrated about the conversation at hand but not wanting to make him stop what he's doing at the same time. If you're being honest, it excites you to know it's your turn, that he wouldn't simply leave you hanging after having his fill of this elusive man you were talking about.

“Would you want me to bring him here?”

Your heart skips a beat because you know exactly what he's insinuating. “I-” Your words get stuck in your throat when he starts licking and sucking on your most sensitive place, but you manage to keep talking. “I d-don't know. I- Ah, fuck.” You grab his hair and grind against his tongue, hearing him chuckle at your desperation.

He's greedy in the way he consumes you and his greed appears as generosity. He's doing this for his own satisfaction, because it fuels his pride to know you need him so bad you'd consider letting his other lover in just to keep him for yourself too. You love the way he loves you, though, you love that you can call him yours as well and that he wouldn't leave you, no matter how perverse the reasoning behind all of that is.

“Would you want to meet him at dinner, and then you can decide if we come back here?” He hovers over you, on his knees and completely naked now, rubbing himself between your folds before plunging in with a low groan of satisfaction.

You watch his head fall back and inspect the red marks on his chest and the love bites on his neck; you feel yourself tighten around him. When you think about it, there's something sexually devious about knowing someone else is just as depraved as you, who would surrender to sharing this man just to get a piece of him. And you understand that person, because this is Suguru and you could never give him up.

“Yes.” You whisper, “I want to know more about him, though. What is he like?”

He looks down at you as he spreads your legs and buries himself deep inside, “Right now?” His cheeks are tinted red, as if he feels embarrassed to tell you about the man he believed he was cheating on you with.

“You don't think I'd like him?”

He hums, “He's very high maintenence.” He says as he rocks his hips slowly into you and you whimper at the intoxicating friction. “He's very pretty and he knows it.” He twitches inside of you when you groan in response, satisfied with the way this is turning out. “He likes women, too, so that won't be a problem. You can have your fun with him, too.”

You feel yourself blush and cover your face, “You wouldn't mind?”

He chuckles, bending down to kiss your breasts and neck, “Why would I mind? I would love to see that. Two of my favorite people together… I don't know what I'd do…”

You whimper and drop your hands from your eyes to see he's smiling at you, mischief dancing around in his eyes. “Tell me more.”

He nods and picks up his pace, whispering in your ear as you feel yourself slowly unraveling under him. “He's needy. He likes begging me for more, just like you.” Suguru kisses your neck, goosebumps all over your body as you listen to him whisper perverse things about his other lover into your ear. “He always tastes sweet because he loves sugar more than anything.” He fucks you even faster and harder and holds your legs down so you can't close them as you scream his name. “He's the strongest sorcerer of today, but such a little pretty princess when he needs me.” He chuckles, “Is that enough for you?”

You shake your head, “More. Tell me about-” You scream out when he hits a spot inside of you that hurts and feels incredible at the same time. You're falling apart, feeling so dirty and so depraved while you listen to your sweet Suguru tell you about how nasty he'd been behind your back. It makes you feel new types of pleasure, something so deviant and sinful that it makes your legs quiver as Suguru fucks you feverishly into the mattress. You're jealous, but your curiosity overcomes it and you need to know every detail about this man and what he's been up to with your Suguru.

“You want to know about how I fuck him, hm, baby?” He whispers and you feel him twitch inside of you as he thinks about it, “He likes it rough, wherever and whenever. He's not like you in that regard, I know you love being at home. He likes when I fuck him in my car. That's when he gets loud, I think it turns him on to be put into uncomfortable positions.”

You whine as you imagine it, a pretty boy being fucked mercilessly by your lover in the back of a black Mercedes, uncomfortable and yet drowning in pleasure. It turns you on to envision it because you're a voyeur at heart, you'd love to see all of Suguru when he's so riled up and adamant at making someone scream his name.

“Oh, f-u-uck-” you cry out, “Keep talking, I'm almost there, Sugu-”

He kisses your neck, breathing heavily, “Me too, baby.” He mutters, “I can show you how he likes it, if you want, it's easier than talking.”

You nod rapidly and he flips you over instantly, pushing your face into the pillow as he pulls your ass up and bends your spine into an uncomfortable position, penetrating you even deeper than before once he enters again.

You feel your eyes tear up from the pain, but pleasure prevails and he continues his deranged pace, the slapping of skin echoing in the silence of the dark room. “Yeah, just like this, oh my-” he groans and pulls you by your hair to your knees, “Or like this,” he says and bites your neck as his hand wraps around it and cuts off your airway until you're lightheaded. Your spine is still bent at an angle that makes your insides stretch and you feel how tight you are around him, even though his pace never let's up.

You're a whimpering, bumbling mess as you completely lose yourself to him, unable to talk or even think at all.

“Oh, both of you feel so divine, I couldn't let go of one or the other.” He groans next to your ear, pushing you forward until you're pressed up to the wall, the cold contrasting the scalding hot skin of his torso against your back. “I'm close baby-”

You whine as you feel his thrusts subside in speed but not intensity, your legs shake and you cry out one final time before coming undone on his cock as he fills you up with himself and his cum, feeling fuller than you've ever felt before.

He doesn't stop after he's done, though, he likes to feel your insides flutter around him and loves overestimulating himself with your sweet pussy until it simply hurts to have you anymore. His movement is slow, it gives you butterflies at how tender he becomes. His hands are exploring your body, grabbing your breasts and thighs, fingers sinking into the soft flesh as he takes in the sweet scent in your hair. He's reveling in the sensation of your tender body against his and shaking from the captivating pleasure.

“I want to meet him,” You whisper again and make him laugh.

“You can meet him, honey.” He kisses the back of your neck and sneaks his fingers between your legs to touch you, making you whimper in protest, tired and fucked out. But he loves torturing you, so he doesn't stop. “You'll see, you'll get along just fine…” He keeps kissing you and touching you and your legs are shaking again.

“Sugu-ru-” you choke out, clawing at the wall, “Too much-”

“I know, honey, just a bit more…” He whispers into your ear, “You know I love to see you like this, so pretty.”

You squeeze your eyes shut as his fingers move skillfully to make you come once again, keeping himself nestled deep within your guts. You feel full, and he tells you you're so good for letting him torture you to his hearts content. “So sweet,” his lips graze your neck and you shudder, “So warm, hmm… I could stay inside of you forever.”

You moan at the thought, and he starts moving again, slowly, making sure you feel every little detail of him sliding against your insides. It's sensual and his hands are like hot lava dripping down your body, melting you entirely. He shows you there's no need to be jealous, no need to feel bad about sharing when he's got so much to give and when he needs both of you equally.

“Do you feel better now, sweetheart?” He kisses your cheek, hugging you tightly.

You nod in response and turn around to face him. “I feel better, my love.” You say and kiss him, tasting the sugar on his tongue from the one who'd had him before you. “You're right, he does taste sweet.” You mutter, gazing at his lips and wondering how much sweeter he'd taste if you kissed him directly. It's a passing thought and you feel the jealousy prod at your heart once again, but you blame Suguru for these kinds of thoughts. He's the one who could manipulate you into being just as perverse as him. The question was whether you minded or not.

“Oh, really?” He chuckles as you push him down on the bed and climb on top of him, pulling the sheets over your naked bodies and snuggling into his warm embrace.

You sigh, “Sugu… Did you tell him about me?”

He sighs as well, “I didn't think of the possibility that you might be okay with that.”

You frown and sit up on top of him, “So he doesn't know about me at all? You didn't bother hiding the fact that you're seeing him from me.”

He looks guilty for a second, “I think he knows. He would've let me know if it was an issue. Just like you didn't up until now. You know him and I can't be together for real, so…”

You roll your eyes, “But you are. You screw him wherever and whenever, right?” You cross your hands over your chest and he looks down at your breasts, suddenly distracted from the serious matter at hand. “My eyes are up here.” You say in a deadpan voice.

“Yeah,” he pulls your arm for you to lay down again, “But we aren't public. Nobody knows except you. And I'll say I'd like it to stay that way, even though I know you won't tell.”

You give him a peck on the lips and smile softly, “I'd never.”

He smiles back, “So, dinner?”

You nod, “Dinner."

a/n: thank you for reading! part 2 is out! part 3 is out!

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llamagoddessofficial · 8 months ago

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hello llama

i have been thinking and headcanoning about vampire bad sanses lately, so i was curious if you have any thoughts about or interest in vampires of the nightmare and crew variety? (人 •͈ᴗ•͈)

"do i have interest in vampires", he asks

ok, i will share my extensive vampire brainrot. but in return..... you have to write that vampire fic.... oooOOooO look into my eyes you know you want to write it ooOoOooo 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

I very much like the idea of Nightmare's castle being Castlevania-style. Lots of spooky architecture, lots of ancient magical passages that haven't been seen in centuries.

Horror can be summed up in one word. Bloodlust. There's a constant hunger inside him he can't ever seem to fill, driving him almost to the point of madness. He is more beast than man. When he smells or tastes blood, he loses control of himself, becoming little more than a starving wild animal - his capability for slaughter is limited only by his appetite. So unless Nightmare requires it, he generally abstains from blood. He doesn't like losing himself so entirely.

Something about you makes him forget his hunger. Is it your voice? Your scent? He has no idea, but oh, it feels good to feel whole. When you're around it's as if he'll never be hungry again... he follows you like a dog, grinning intensely every time you look at him. This is one hound that can't be shaken.

Despite his 'condition', he finds a lot of solace in cooking. Nothing will give him the same drug-like rush as blood but human food is nonetheless warm and filling and distracts him momentarily from the emptiness. He enjoys the process of making it, too, doing something with his hands. Let him cook for you, please? Watching you eat brings him vicarious joy.

Dust's backstory is one of legend. Something resembling a story can be spun from the loose whispers. A vampire invaded his peaceful isolated village hundreds of years ago, intending to turn the helpless populace into enslaved vampires. Dust, the first to be bitten, turned and slaughtered them all himself - and despite being a vampire for barely a week, the equivalent of a stumbling newborn, he killed the centuries-old invading vampire in single combat.

No one's quite sure why he's joined Nightmare. Perhaps Nightmare was keen to take this uniquely violent creature under his wing, and Dust just didn't really care where the wind took him. Or perhaps he has some other motive, hidden beneath that silent face. Who knows.

... Dust might be quiet, but it's obvious he's fixated on you. Which is a big deal. This is a creature who hasn't mustered a second thought for anything but blood for decades; but somehow, you've excited him. He's very clearly interested in you, silently watching your every move, listening intently to every word you say. Too bad he's not much for conversation.

Killer's backstory, on the other hand, is shrouded entirely in mystery. No one knows where he came from, who he is, or what he's done. He simply appeared one day - right within the coveted inner circle of Nightmare himself. He's the Night King's most trusted weapon, and the closest thing he has to a friend.

Killer seems very clear about what he wants. He thinks you're adorable, and he says you'd make such a pretty vampire. He talks (at length) about how much he wants to bite you, and how if it were up to him you'd already be one of them. A lot of his flirting involves calling you things like sweet treat and honeyblood. However... despite all the taunting, all the talk of seeing you as food, Killer is the one in the castle who treats you with the most respect. The others seem to see you as an object, a cute toy, something to squish and own. Killer talks to you like you're a real person. You can't help but like him for it.

Nightmare's inferiority complex has driven him to declare himself the king of the vampires. No one contests - Nightmare is royalty by blood, and vampires place a lot of emphasis on blood. But even if he wasn't, Nightmare frequently murders those who won't bend the knee. Plenty of powerful vampires have fallen embarrassingly fast at his hand.

... Nightmare's goal is to make you agree to be his spouse. A pretty little human partner would be excellent for his image. It would not only demonstrate his incredible self control as such an ancient vampire (not to mention his control over his warriors), but it would also show that his power is so great he doesn't need to strike a political marriage with another powerful vampire. It might also convince some of the pesky rebellious human groups to settle down.

His pride means that he won't force you. Not yet, at least. He likes to think he can seduce you. He's a royal vampire, after all, and you're just a simple human - isn't it only a matter of time?

... But it seems like, as time goes on... he's the one falling.

#llamagines #whatever you do don't think about you accidentally cutting your finger and triggering horror's bloodlust #don't think about the other vampires rushing in and trying to restrain him in a panic. but even the three of them can't hold him back #don't picture him pinning you with his jaws wide open...#then don't imagine him freezing. tears beginning to fall out of his sockets as he draws you into his arms #dont think about him pressing his teeth against your throat but not biting #almost as if he wants to feel your pulse so he knows youre alive and he hasnt hurt you without realising #don't think about how he seems just as confused and scared as you are #ok thank you for not thinking abt that #bad sanses #vampire bad sanses

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ririsasy · 1 year ago

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This scene in May December broke me because how innocent and pure Joe is, how he knows that's something wrong with his life, he's trapped but couldn't get out and he didn't want anything that happened to him to ever happen to his son. It's heartbreaking to see how young he still is.

I want to give all the award for Charles Melton portrayal of Joe, especially in this scene, when he curled up in his son’s embrace like he’s the one who’s younger than his own son because in a sense he’s, mentally he’s, that tremble in his hands as he tried to explain his thoughts, thinking that he would do something wrong to his son, gosh he’s too young to be a father, and Charles Melton just completely nailed this role with his whole mannerisms, that small broken voice when he whispered “that’s all I do”. he's helpless, he's anxious all the time, but he bottled up inside because he has no chance to open up.

The way they portrayed Joe's naivety like he's still a young 13 y.o boy trapped in time because the manipulation worked with a vulnerable boy like he was. They showed his youthful spirit still with his hobbies with the butterflies, his timid movement or the way Gracie bossed him around and he didn't even realize it, that he couldn't even be open and honest with his feeling or be validated about what he's feeling because Gracie would just spin those words around and make it look like he's the one who hurt her, twisting his words to her advantage, the abuse never actually end, even after the 24 years of marriage.

Gracie is a predator, an unapologetic manipulative woman that thinks she does nothing wrong because deep down she's just evil that way, the scene in a forest when she met a fox and she look eye to eye with that predator, I feel like she was looking at herself. The way she’s interacting with her children from the previous marriage, how cold a mother she was, she didn’t care much about anyone feeling. Or the way even her children with Joe didn’t like her that much, because they’re old enough to understand that their parents relationship is not normal at all, but they just couldn’t say anything about it because at the end of the day she is still their mother.

Also it was incredibly eerie at the contrast love letter that young Joe sent to Gracie, where it was just so innocent, no ulterior motive or whatsoever, he was just a kid, feeling safe and at peace around adult and expressing it that way to her, it wasn't wrong at all, not a sign that an adult should make a move at that! Then compare to the one that Gracie wrote to him, she understood completely the situation they're in, the way she asked him in the letter not to tell anyone about it, she's always been on the upper hand, she took advantage of Joe's vulnerability and used it to her own sick desire. It wasn't told explicitly in the movie but seriously everything just feel so nauseating to watch thinking how young he was.

Now Joe is older and you know nobody can safe him except himself, If he wanted to be saved or not, or if he'd accepted his life just as it's, he's just a victim but he told himself that he didn't want people to look at him like one. It's all in the adult hands that should be the ones who do better because they know better and put a stop to something that's morally wrong, it's the adult responsibility to give the understanding, but the problem is Gracie is not a good person at all or a misunderstood individual or anything, she did everything with full conscience and with no regret because she’s sick in the head.

Also Natalie Portman’s character, Elizabeth, what’s up with her? I feel like her interest for the project itself was so questionable, she looks like a predator herself at the end, was she having an affair with the director that wanted to produce the movie? The phone call she had with the director asking him about his wife was kinda sus, when she was looking at the tape for young joe character and asking for a sexier looking actor, 13 y.o boy? What’s up with that?? And that euphoric masturbation?? complete with a laugh she did at the shop where Joe and Gracie supposedly had their first sexual encounter together, it’s all so weird and not to mention she end up sleeping with Joe as well! She was taking advantage of him nonetheless, I know that Joe is older now and should be able to make his own decision but considering that Elizabeth’s intention was never actually genuine and lure him in, flirting with him at his workplace, it’s manipulative as hell.

The way Elizabeth keep trying to mimic Gracie’s every movements, I know it’s for the role, but everything that she does also kinda eerie in notion. Perhaps she and gracie wasn’t that much different? She just didn’t act on it? Or is she such a psychopath in away she wanted to experience all kind of peculiar side of human? Where she's just so detached on human feeling and only sees everything just as story? That’s why she wanted to be an actress because that was her motivation? Is she a case of an actor that took method acting in extreme? To the point she lose the way to connect with story in away that still has humanity in it because this is real people lives she’s adapting and not a fantasy. I really couldn’t read her true motives at the end. Perhaps there were two predators in the movie?

Over all May December is a really thought provoking film, it’s a movie I’d recommend to anyone who just love a kind of movie that makes you think about it long after you watch it. Julian Moore, Natalie Portman and Charles Melton act so brilliantly in their respective roles. I feel like Charles Melton might get his first oscar nomination for supporting actor for this role because how good he was in this. 9/10.

#may december #natalie portman #Julian Moore #movies #oscar #charles melton

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masterfuldoodler · 1 year ago

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I went so insane drawing this. I was having the best time ever, I had to pause so often to freak out at my own art xD and then there is the pain. My friends knew everytime I sat down to draw the end (the last five pages) I plagued them dsbknfh

I even made a playlist for specifically this.

The End of All

I've been brainstorming the final confrontation of the keepers. Tehvlar has finished recreating his body into fully chaos and is mostly dead at this point. It starts as Rhyin and Tehvlar's reunion and spirals out of control.

#where do i even start...rhyin's braids are constantly moving. i tried to make sure each panel they were different or at least off from prev #the black cracks on Tehvlar slowly crawl up him and spread. along the red spreading across the ground. or dripping more from his hands #you can see that the chaos tendrils when they get next to rhyin they calm out and become this flowy look instead #that very first shot of rhyin dsbjd i was Stressed drawing it. it was tiny my ink pen was shaking i was scared just saying dont mess this up #rhyin's expression in the third page was such a win though. that is exactly how i imagined it. so wild to see if outside of my head #bottom panel page four!! direct reference to a different comic!! graveside chat!!! tehehehe #ok ok but fun fact i was brainstorming This comic and i realized there was certain things about their relationship that needed explained and #so i paused and drew the other comic first and then forgot to do this for multiple months dsjvfhjvkkv so yeah recommend the other comic too #im so happy i was able to give a situation for the brother to be able to talk about this and be like 'bro what??? what is wrong with you??'#last two pages reference another comic too!!! yay!!!#anyway i am so insane about this. the fact that Tehvlar has died so much at this point that no one knows him. they only know chaos #he's killed everything recognizable. and there's no one who knows him. until rhyin comes up. rhyin who was forced into brother try ii #rhyin who wasn't allowed to be Tehvlar's son because he was Tehvlar's comrade. and he's the only one left #he shows up and sees who should have been his father who has killed everything good inside him until all that's left is chaos and death #and he holds out his hand. he steps forward. he kneels down #Tehvlar is on the ground helpless looking up to him asking for more again. so gone he can't take his hand #and rhyin kneels down and picks up his hands. and holds them. the blood on his hands dripping down his arms. surrounded by chaos #insane about the idea of him offering him mercy. the only person who can look at Tehvlar and see a soul behind the creature #he can't save him. he can't fix all the problems. he can just show him mercy and let him have peace. rhyin knows the agony of chaos #he's seen the ghosts living in it. how can he doom anyone to it?#the second to last oage also!! has another reference to the graveside chat comic!! yippee for references #also also. Tehvlar in agony. he's crying and his eyes are empty his mouth a pit he can't even fully express it #his tears are red and blood. he's soak in so much death even his misery is full of other's suffering #the way the shadows behind him grip at hus head or face. their boney fingers digging in. he's harming himself!! all this Will hurt him too!!#the comic starts out and he's full of this emotion because he finally! finally! won! he made himself perfect! everything is going right #his son is alive again! all these years he's been trying to 'fix his mistakes' and make everything worth the pain is better!!#and yet the betrayal. everyone has left him. either died or turned on him. the one person he believed was left. his buddy! his comrade #his Son! is here and condemning him!! oh the agony!!! and then through the conversation having his eyes opened and seeing his real pain #truly feeling what the chaos as done to him. truly seeing what he's created and what he did. the weight of it breaking him #kicking my feet and giggling. he's sooo pathetic

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saylorsaysstop · 11 months ago

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Sleeping Together | 18+

also shout out to @joyful-enchantress because after she commented on my Grayson post earlier, this all came to my mind. 🤪

**underneath the cut**

DICK GRAYSON

Dick talks you through it. He wants you to be vocal and makes it his top priority that your needs are met first

"Tell me what you need, baby." - "That's it, just like that, baby. You're close, aren't ya? Yeah, look at you. Come on, grind a little harder. I know you can do it."

Giving head is a sport for Grayson and he excels at it. He eats you out like you're his last meal

The man is an acrobat. He's flexible. All the positions he can get the two of you in should be new entries in the Kama Sutra

Dick loveeeees head in return. He won't ever make you do it or ask, but he loves that you're so eager to pleasure him

"I've been good, haven't I? No other reason to explain why you're gifting me that hot mouth of yours, sweet girl."

Dick isn't afraid to moan either. He knows when the noises start coming out of his mouth, you get off quicker

Let's go back to that acrobatic thing. He may or may not figure out ways to suspend you in the air... He may or may not be such a kinky man that he's got a separate room in your house where he plays sports with you... I'm not admitting it, I'm just saying

Loves for you to suck him off when your head hanging off the edge of the bed. He also loves to eat you out simultaneously

Dick Grayson is a boob man. Both hands on deck, he squeezes and teases your nipples by plucking them between his fingers. Loves to suck on them until they're stiff peaks. Likes to push two fingers into you while he bites your nipple, stroking until he hits that sweet spot. You're a goner after that

Loves for you to take what you want

"Atta girl, ride it just like that. This dick belongs to you, right? Act like it. Pleasure yourself... Yeah, go ahead and play with your clit. Wanna see you come. You're so pretty when you do."

Dick treasures loving on you after sex. He rewards you for your good behavior and a job well done with baths, massages, you name it. He ensures you're taken care of and reminds you that he loves you dearly

JASON TODD

Jason likes it rough. He loves it when he sees your marks on him, whether it be teeth or nails. He collects each one like it is a kill

Ropes? Knife play? Any sort of bondage? Jason Todd is your man

Loves to bind your hands above your head while he rails you deep into the mattress. Loves the idea of you being helpless and unable to take it anymore. Gets him off real quick

Loves some dirty talk

"Take this dick like a good girl." - "You're soaking wet, babe. All this for me?" - "Not gonna waste a drop of this cum, you hear me? You won't let a drop leak outta this cunt - my cunt. You got that?"

Jason likes to get right by your ear while he grunts with each thrust, nipping your earlobe in between before trailing his tongue down your neck and sucking on your collarbone

"Gonna mark this pretty neck up, baby."

You two go at each other until you're a panting mess. Clothes strewn all over the place. Jason and you stare up at the ceiling, laughing like teenagers as you calm down from the high

"I think that was my new personal best. Ten orgasms. Ten!"

Yeah. Jason likes to place bets on who can give the other more orgasms in one night. Right now, he's winning

Jason loves your butt. Loves to slap your cheeks as he bends you over his lap as a warm-up. Carresses and bites the plump skin when he's kissing his way down your body before he hikes your legs over his shoulders and feasts

Likes to feel you breathe against him. He loves to feel your chest rise and fall when he's on top and you're panting for every breath while chasing your orgasm

He's a man who likes to edge that's for sure

"Uh-uh... That wasn't it. You can do better than that. Moan a little louder, that's it..." - "I'm being mean? No, you just need to work harder to come. You wanted this." - "Atta girl. I promise I'll let you come after this."

Jason's aftercare is you two taking a hot bath together where he can just hold your back to his chest and actually talk. You're his safe space

TIM DRAKE

Tim, albeit quiet, is a delectable switch. One day he's all soft and endearing, the next he's plowing you into next week (and blushing when you mention it afterward

He does a lot of studying on sex. What positions feel the best for you, different ways he can go down to ensure he has you screaming his name for all of Gotham to hear

Gets a little possessive during sex, especially when he's losing himself in it

"You're mine, do you hear me? Mine, sweetheart. Mine." - "No one else is going to claim you. You belong to me."

He likes it when you pull his hair, especially when he's going down. Feeling you guide him further into you is like a bolt of electricity shooting down his spine

Tim loves to get you relaxed before sex too, especially if he knows it's going to be a long night. He'll run you a warm bath, pamper you with sweet-scented lotions, and get you nice and ready before he unleashes. Fun fact, those nights are when you know he's gonna get rough

Tim won't admit it aloud but he loves a good missionary position or where you two lay facing each other. He loves to caress your face and kiss you softly as he takes you

"Lift your leg, sweetheart... That's it. C'mere. Let me watch that gorgeous face of yours when you fall apart for me, yeah?"

Like Dick and Jason, he VALUES aftercare so. Freaking. Much! Takes a warm cloth to the mess he made between your legs and kisses along the heated skin, telling you how much he loves you

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save-the-villainous-cat · 4 months ago

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mother. enemies with benefits with angst, mother🙏🙏 I am starving in this harsh winter, mother 😔😔😔

"Your mission," the villain murmured. "How was it?"

"Is that a thing we do now? Asking personal questions?"

"It's work. And we are work, too."

The hero didn't really know what to respond to that, so they shrugged and avoided the villain's gaze at all costs. It was kind of pathetic that the villain was the first person they visited after their three months of absence. Logically, the villain must have assumed that the hero was here to sleep with them.

In truth, the hero wasn't sure if they could even do that. They could barely walk.

"So, how was it?" the villain asked. They tilted their head curiously and the hero didn't know how to respond to that either. The hero counted themselves lucky that the only wounds they carried around with them were bruises and a few cracked ribs.

"It was fine," they said. They took a sip of coffee, ignoring how their face was heating up. "It was alright."

"That bad?"

"No, it was fine, really," the hero answered. The villain's apartment was as the hero remembered. Classy. Clean.

Maybe the hero was just sick of living in their own cramped space and coming home to trash and dust, too exhausted to clean and take care of it. Most of the time the hero blamed work - no hero had truly time to take care of their own place after all, right?

But deep down they knew they were the problem. They were the person who had let the decay happen.

"Still beating yourself up?"

"Still too curious for your own good?"

The villain gave them a hortative look and the hero backed down immediately.

"Sorry, I..." An empty laugh. "I'm really on edge, huh?"

They guessed the last three months weren't as easy to forget as they wanted. They had lost more people during the mission than they should have. It was an excruciating feeling. Something they would never get used to.

"You don't say." The villain smiled softly and stood up. They reached for the hero's wrist and the hero could feel their insides melt. Touching them again after three months...it felt like a reward after weeks of uncertainty and violence.

It was heaven.

"If you are struggling with-"

"Really, I can deal with it, I promise," the hero said. They finally looked up at their nemesis. At those hauntingly beautiful eyes. Those soft fingers. They would dream about them.

They would dream about the villain every now and then. They would think about them.

It was quite strange to the hero. They were thinking about them a little too much, they figured.

"Then why are you here?" the villain said. Their hand was still on the hero's.

"Hm?" The hero needed a second to stomach that question.

"What are you doing here?"

"Well..." Another empty laugh. "We...uh, you know. We hook up sometimes. That's what we do, so...uh..."

"You're not here to have sex with me," the villain replied. They pulled their hand away and the hero could have cursed. They knew it was stupid to feel entitled to it.

And they didn't, they truly didn't feel entitled. But desperate? The hero was definitely desperate.

"What do you mean? Did I-" They took in a deep breath.

"I meant what I said. You're not here to have sex with me. You don't like morning sex, you can barely move and you probably wouldn't survive a round, no matter what position. And you know that. So, why are you here?" The hero stared at them with an open mouth but gathered themselves quickly. Swallowed, looked at the coffee, then back at the villain. It didn't feel fair how well the villain could read them. It didn't feel fair how helpless the hero felt either.

"I just...I don't know."

"You know I can't give you the comfort you want," the villain whispered. This time, it was them who didn't meet the other's eyes. "We agreed on specific terms and...everything on an emotional level..."

"I know," the hero whispered. Hell, it was them who had come up with the whole shit. It was the hero who had argued that emotions were leading to complications. It was them who had insisted that this was physical. "I know, I'm sorry."

"Usually I would just break the rules and...well, you know. I would listen to you, I would hold you and...yeah. But I am kind of seeing someone."

But I am kind of seeing someone.

The hero's eyes widened.

It felt like a punch to the throat.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't know, I..." The tears were rising. They could feel the pain in their nose, they could feel that horrible feeling in the back of their throat.

"As long as it's not serious, we can still sleep with each other, but we can't afford falling in love. I really like them."

And then the hero got angry.

Their insides started to boil. They wanted to scream or cry, they wanted to punch the wall and destroy something, anything.

They felt replaced, they felt miserable. Maybe they had come here for comfort or kindness, maybe they had come here because they had actually missed the villain but this? This was cruel - it was a bad joke that kept on going.

These last three months, the thought of the villain was the only thing that had kept them going, the one and only thing the hero had wanted.

But they swallowed it, swallowed their anger and the tears.

"Are you alright?"

"Y-yes." The hero hid their shaking hands under the table.

"You look a little pale," the villain said. They didn't seem very happy about any of this.

"Could I just use your bathroom for a second?"

"Of course."

And there, the hero threw up, gripping the toilet seat with trembling hands and tears blurring their vision.

#writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #request #an answer for an ask #angst #enemies with benefits

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lxndonorris · 4 months ago

Text

doubts - Max Verstappen

Y/N x Max Verstappen Theme: a little bit of everything cheering up Max after a frustrating qualifying session x word count: 2500+ taglist: @cloud-55 I needed that.... open for requests. Gif by @countingstars-17 thank you bub!

The motorhome is quiet, almost too quiet, compared to the roar of engines that filled the air just a short while ago. The walls, adorned with racing memorabilia, framed photos of victories, and splashes of Red Bull blue, feel like a sanctuary from the outside world, a cocoon away from the glaring lights and curious eyes.

But now, the energy inside is tense and heavy, almost suffocating.

Max is sitting on the leather sofa, his elbows resting on his knees, hands hanging down loosely as he stares at the floor. The upper half of his racing suit hangs limply around his waist, the fireproof undershirt clinging to his chest and back, soaked with sweat and frustration. His hair, usually slicked back, is tousled, his face a mix of fatigue and quiet anger.

The qualifying session was a disaster. A car that wouldn't behave, tires that wouldn't grip, and a series of small, infuriating mistakes left him far lower on the grid than he has any right to be.

And for a man who built his life on perfection, on pushing limits, on winning, this was unacceptable.

You watch him from the kitchenette, silently taking in his frustration, feeling the tension radiate off him in waves.

You know this side of Max well—the one who lives for the thrill of the race, who feels every setback as a personal failure. It hurts to see him like this, wound so tightly that he seems ready to snap.

You move quietly, almost hesitantly, from where you are standing, as if afraid any sudden movement might shatter the fragile silence that settled between you.

The sound of your footsteps is almost inaudible against the soft carpet, but you can feel Max's eyes flicker toward you as you approach.

"Max," you say softly, sitting down next to him on the sofa.

You reach out, resting a hand on his knee, feeling the warmth of his skin through the fabric.

He doesn't pull away, but he doesn't respond either, his eyes still focused on the ground. You sense the storm brewing inside him—a mixture of exhaustion and self-recrimination—and you know you have to find a way to break through it.

"It wasn't your fault," you begin, your voice gentle but firm. "You did everything you could out there."

"Did I?" he mutters, more to himself than to you. His voice is low, rough, like gravel.

"Maybe if I had pushed harder or backed off in that last corner... maybe..." He trails off, his firsts clenching, the knuckles turning white.

You shake your head, even though you know he isn't really looking at you.

"You can't control everything, Max. Not the weather, not the track conditions, not even the car sometimes. You know that."

He sighs heavily, finally looking up at you, his blue eyes clouded with doubt and frustration.

"But I'm supposed to be able to handle it. That's what makes a champion, isn't it? Being able to deal with anything and everything?"

You give him a small, sad smile, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

"You're already a champion, Max. You don't have to prove that to anyone, least of all to yourself."

He closes his eyes at your touch, his shoulders slumping as some of the tension seems to drain away.

"I hate this feeling," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "This helplessness... like I'm not in control."

You lean in closer, sliding your hand from his knee to his stomach, feeling the taut muscles underneath the thin fabric.

"You're still in control, Max. Tomorrow is another day, another race. You can still turn this around."

He opens his eyes, looking at you with a mixture of gratitude and vulnerability that he rarely shows to anyone.

"How do you do that?" he asks quietly, his hand coming up to cover yours, pressing it gently against his stomach.

"Do what?" You ask, your fingers tracing small, soothing circles on his skin.

"Make me believe it's going to be okay, even when everything feels like it's falling apart."

You smile softly, leaning in to press a kiss to his cheek, lingering there for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of him—engine oil, sweat, and the faintest hint of his cologne.

"Because it is going to be okay," you murmur against his skin. "I believe in you, Max. And I'm not going anywhere."

He turns his head slightly, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, tentative kiss that sends a shiver down your spine. You feel the warmth of his breath, the softness of his lips, and for a moment, the world outside ceases to exist.

It is just the two of you, cocooned in this small, private space, where nothing else matters.

When he pulls back, his eyes are softer, the tension in his body less pronounced.

"I don't deserve you," he says quietly, his voice tinged with self-reproach.

You shake your head, cupping his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

"You deserve all the love and support in the world, Max. You give so much of yourself to this sport, to your team, to the fans... it's okay to let someone take care of you too."

He doesn't say anything; he just leans into your touch, his eyes closing as he lets out a slow, shaky breath.

You feel him slowly relaxing under your hands, the storm inside him beginning to calm. You shift closer, tucking yourself against his side, your head resting on his shoulder, your hand still tracing soothing patterns on his stomach.

You sit like that for a long time, the silence between you no longer heavy or oppressive but comforting, like a shared understanding. You feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, the rhythm of his breathing slowing as the tension ebbes away.

"Thank you," he whispers after a while, his voice soft, almost fragile.

You lift your head, pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

"For what?"

"For being here. For knowing what I need, even when I don't."

You smile, snuggling closer to him.

"That's what I'm here for. You don't have to go through this alone."

He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer, his fingers gently brushing against your arm.

"I don't know what I'd do without you," he admits quietly, his voice so low you almost don't hear him.

"You'll never have to find out," you reply, your voice equally as soft.

He kisses the top of your head, his lips lingering there as he breathes you in.

"I love you," he whispers, the words carrying the weight of everything he can't say, everything he feels but can't express.

You tilt your head up to meet his gaze, your heart swelling with love and affection for this man who carries the weight of the world on his shoulders but still finds the strength to let you in.

"I love you too, Max. Always."

He smiles then, a real, genuine smile that reaches his eyes, chasing away the last remnants of his frustration.

Leaning down, he captures your lips in a kiss that is slow, tender, and filled with unspoken promises.

Max's hand moves to the small of your back, pulling you even closer as the kiss deepens, becoming more urgent, more insistent. You feel the last of his tension melting away, replaced by a different kind of heat, a desire that is as much about comfort as it is about connection.

You shift, sliding onto his lap, your legs straddling his hips as you press yourself against him, feeling the hard planes of his chest against you.

His hands move to your waist, holding you there as he kisses you like a man who has been starved for affection, for touch, for the reassurance that he isn't alone.

You feel the fire in him, the same fore that drives him on the track, that pushes him to be the best, but here, with you, it is tempered by something softer, something more vulnerable.

It is a side of Max that few people ever see—a side that he only ever shows to you.

When you finally break apart, both of you breathing hard, your foreheads resting against each other, you see the change in him.

The frustration and anger are gone, replaced by a calm determination, a quiet resolve that tells you he is ready to face whatever tomorrow will bring.

"I'm ready," he says softly, his hands still holding you close.

You nod, brushing a thumb across his cheek.

"I know you are. And I will be right there with you, every step of the way."

He kisses you again, a soft, lingering kiss that leaves you breathless.

"I don't know what I did to deserve you," he murmurs against your lips.

You smile again, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"You don't have to do anything to deserve me, Max. You just have to let me love you."

He closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against yours.

"I can do that," he whispers.

As you shift on Max's lap, you let your fingers trace the contours of his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath the thin fabric of his undershirt.

Your touch is slow, deliberate as you move just beneath his pecs, right where you know he is most sensitive. His muscles tense momentarily at the contact, a shiver running through him, but then you feel him relax, his head tilting back against the sofa with a deep, contented sigh.

You smile to yourself, enjoying the way his body responds to your touch—how even in the midst of his frustration, you could find that one spot that makes everything else melt away.

Your fingers dance lightly across his skin, just enough pressure to coax a reaction, but not too much.

You watch his eyes flutter shut, his breath hitches slightly before he lets out a soft growl of contentment.

"Mmm..." he murmurs, the sound vibrating deep in his chest. It is a low, rumbling noise that sends a thrill through you.

His hands move to cover yours, holding it against his chest as he opens his eyes to look at you, a lazy, satisfied smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

The tension that gripped him earlier seems to have evaporated, replaced by a warmth and ease that is rare for him in moments like these.

"Right there," he whispers, his voice a mix of amusement and pleasure. "You always know exactly where to touch."

You grin, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his lips.

"I know you too well, Maxie."

He chuckles, the sound rich and deep, vibrating against your lips as he kisses you back.

"Not that I'm complaining."

"Good," you tease, brushing your thumb across his skin again, watching as his eyes darkened with that familiar spark of desire.

Max's smile widens, the corners of his eyes crinkling slightly as he relaxes completely against the sofa.

The frustration and weariness from earlier melted away, leaving behind the man you know so well—the man who thrives on competition but also craves the simple comfort of touch and connection.

He sighs contently, the sound almost a purr, as you continue to stroke his chest.

"You have no idea how much I needed this," he admits, his voice soft and low.

You lean in closer, your lips brushing against his ear. "I think I do," you whisper, your breath warm against his skin.

He turns his head slightly, his lips finding yours in a slow, languid kiss that speaks of gratitude, affection, and something deeper.

When he pulls back, his eyes are bright, a smile playing at his lips.

"Thank you," he says quietly, his fingers trailing up and down your arm in a gentle soothing motion.

"Not for that."

As the warmth of your embrace lingers, you feel Max's breathing slow, the tension fully drained away from his body.

Sensing that he needs a moment of deeper comfort, you gently shift off his lap, sliding down to sit beside him on the sofa.

He looks up at you with a mixture of curiosity and contentment, the corners of his mouth still curved in that relaxed smile.

Without a word, you reach for him, your fingers threading through his hair as you gently pull his head down towards your lap.

Max doesn't resist, his body easily following the motion until he is lying down, his head resting comfortably against your thighs.

His eyes close as he settles in, a soft sigh escaping his lips, and you see him relaxing even more.

You look down at him, your heart swelling with love and tenderness for this man, so eager, so passionate, yet now he seems so at peace, so vulnerable in this moment.

You begin to caress his cheek, your fingers moving in slow, soothing strokes along the strong lines of his jaw, feeling the slight stubble that starts to form there.

Max leans into your touch, a soft hum of contentment vibrating in his chest. His body seems to melt even further into the sofa, his entire being surrendering to the comfort you are offering.

"This feels so goood..." he sighs, his voice barely above a whisper.

You lean down slightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"I'm glad," you breathe deeply, your fingers continuing their gentle dance across his skin. "You deserve to rest, Max. You work so hard, and sometimes... you need to let go."

His eyes flutter open, and he looks up at you with a gaze full of gratitude.

"It's easier with you here," he admits. "You make everything easier."

"That's what I am here for."

He reaches up, his hand covering yours where it rests on his cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin in a mirrored gesture.

Max's breathing grows even slower, deeper as the exhaustion of the day finally catches up with him. His eyes drift shut again, and you could see the lines of stress and worry smooth out as sleep begins to take hold.

You continue to caress his cheek, your touch light and gentle, hoping to keep him in this peaceful state for as long as possible.

Watching him like this, so calm and serene, you feel an overwhelming sense of love for him.

Max is so much more than the fierce competitor the world sees on track; he is kind, strong, vulnerable, and so incredibly human.

And it is moments like this that you feel closest to him, when he lets down all his walls and lets you in completely.

As you continue to stroke his cheek, your fingers moving in slow, rhythmic patterns, you whisper softly.

"I will always be here, Max. No matter what happens tomorrow or the day after, I'll be right here with you."

He doesn't respond, but the small smile that tugs at his lips tells you he heard you. His hand still rests over yours, warm and reassuring, even as sleep fully claimed him.

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen smut #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 smut #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 smut #fomula 1 imagine #max verstappen angst #mac verstappen fluff

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wholoveseggs · 10 months ago

Note

Can I maybe have an angst/fluff where the reader had turned her humanity off and Elijah is trying his best to flip it back on? Thank you!! Love your work 💕

Forgiveness

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

After a tragic event you flip your humanity switch and begin to terrorize the Quarter. You have to be put down for the good of the city, but your husband will stop at nothing to save you.

♡♡ Thanks for the request anon(s) sorry it took so long! ♡♡

5.5k words - Warnings: so so so angsty, violent, reader does some evil shit, a bit of sex but its not sexy, this is definitely the darkest thing I've ever written.. you want angst??? you get angst.

Marcel sat on a stool in a dimly lit bar, staring into his glass of whiskey. He wondered how much more loss he could take, and when it would finally break him.

He was experiencing a kind of helplessness he hadn't experienced since he was a boy, sneaking half rotten apples in his shirt, running home as fast as he could so he wouldn't be caught.

He couldn't outrun his feelings now. They followed him wherever he went, nipping at his heels, mocking him for the things he couldn't fix, the things he couldn't undo.

It wasn't his fault, not really, yet he felt guilty, because a part of him still cared for you. Even after all you had done. All you had become.

He was pulled out from his melancholy by one of his nightwalkers, a vampire called Arthur, a man who had served in the first World War, and came to New Orleans, looking for the easy life.

He sat down next to Marcel and placed a gold chain necklace on the table, it had distinct little jewels, each one a different color. Marcel recognized it instantly and his heart sank at the flecks of blood still clinging to it.

"Jean," he said softly, picking the necklace up and examining it.

Arthur nodded his head. "I found her in an alleyway, anyone could of come across it," he told Marcel.

"How bad?" Marcel asked, already knowing the answer.

"Not pretty. I got rid of the body."

"Thanks," Marcel said, and he meant it. He didn't want a bunch of human detectives finding the body and raising questions. "I told Jean not to go after her," he said, shaking his head, the weight of his regret was almost crushing.

Arthur poured himself a drink, and looked at Marcel with a raised brow.

"What else was she supposed to do? Sit at the bar and mope while her friends are slaughtered," he said, taking a swig.

"You know it's not that simple," Marcel told him.

Arthur sighed, "I know," he said, "but we gotta stop her, she's killing us off, one by one,"

Marcel finished his drink, his knuckles turning white around the glass.

"Yeah," he agreed, his voice breaking, "I know."

He looked down at his glass, watching the amber liquid swirl around, wondering if he could ever drink enough to forget who you used to be, if he would ever get you back. The ironic part was that he needed some solid advice and the person he usually would go to was you.

He threw his glass on the ground and it shattered on the floor, causing the other vampires in the bar to jump.

"Fuck," he yelled, standing up, looking around at his people. "Listen up, she got Jean," he paused as the crowd murmured in shock, "and I'm not gonna stand here and let her kill anyone else," he announced.

"What about Elijah?" A young vampire asked.

"Fuck him," Marcel shouted, "he will let us all die before he hurts his precious wife."

"If you see her, bring her to me, and I will give you the daylight ring of your choice," he promised, and the crowd cheered.

"Now go, and do not approach her alone," he ordered, and the group dispersed.

"We got this Marcel," Arthur told him.

Marcel gave him a nod and watched him leave. His heart broke for what he knew he had to do. He would stop you, no matter what it took.

A soft low moan came tumbling past your lips as you rocked your hips forward, and dug your nails deeper into the neck of the man beneath you. His eyes were closed in a mix of ecstasy and pain, and his hips thrust upwards, chasing the pleasure you were giving him.

"Don't cum," you compelled him, and his body tensed beneath you.

"Please," he begged, his hands reaching for you, grabbing your thighs and squeezing.

You moaned and lifted yourself up, and then slammed down onto him, hard. He cried out in pleasure, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

"Please," he choked out, and you could see the tears pooling in his eyes.

You were getting tired of him. His stamina was abysmal, and you assumed that since he was covered in tattoos he enjoyed a bit of pain. You had been disappointed when you had learned that wasn't the case.

"Don't be a bitch," you spat, "and shut up."

He nodded, and you could tell he was struggling. You sighed, and grabbed him roughly by the hair, pulling his head to the side and exposing his neck.

He groaned, and you bit into his neck, making sure your teeth sliced deep. Blood poured from his neck, you could taste a hint of the endorphins rushing through him and smiled. You sucked on his wound, and began moving again.

His breathing hitched, and his whole body was shaking, you knew it wouldn't take long for him to reach his orgasm.

"You can cum now," you told him, and he moaned, and his fingers dug into your hips.

You continued rocking into him, and a few seconds later he let out a strangled cry, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside of you.

You smiled through bloodied teeth then sunk your fangs back into his neck, tasting the flood of endorphins. You continued to drink, feeling him struggle underneath you.

"Too much," he wheezed, trying to push you away, but he was far too weak.

You kept going until his breathing slowed, and his body stopped moving. You pulled back and let his body slump onto the bed, looking down disappointedly.

"I don't even get an orgasm out of it," you complained, rolling your eyes.

You lifted yourself off him, stretching and cracking your neck.

You glanced over at the woman laying in the chair in the corner of the room, and frowned. You had forgotten about her. She was alive, her chest rising and falling, her heartbeat thumping loudly.

You had compelled her to be silent and still, she was doing an excellent job. You stood up and walked towards her. She stared at you with wide, terrified eyes. You were naked, and covered in blood, it dripped down your face, and neck, and coated your breasts and legs.

"Oh, honey," you cooed, brushing her hair out of her face. "I'm so sorry, was that your boyfriend?"

The woman whimpered, tears spilling out of her eyes, and you shushed her, gently running your thumb over her bottom lip.

"You shouldn't stay with a cheater," you told her, and she looked at you in confusion, "and you should choose better men," you advised, then snapped her neck.

You went to the bathroom, and turned the shower on, and stepped under the hot stream, letting the water wash away the blood and cum.

Your mind was calm, the only thought swirling around in your head was your desire to drink and fuck, and the two together was an amazing combination.

You washed yourself quickly, then found a dress and slid it over your wet body. It clung to your skin, but you didn't mind.

You put on some jewelry you found and checked yourself out in the mirror. You were beautiful, and the darkness behind your eyes made you look deadly.

You smiled, satisfied with your appearance, and left the hotel, deciding to find your next victim.

New Orleans was a big city, but it was full of sin, and you loved walking the streets, feeling its pulse, and knowing that somewhere there was a soul aching for you to feed on.

You could have compelled yourself a meal, but where was the fun in that? There was something so satisfying about hunting and the chase was exhilarating.

You walked down a back street, thinking about having a redhead for dinner when the hairs on the back of your neck stood up, and your stomach clenched.

You were being followed.

You sped up and the person followed suit, and you smiled. Finally, something to cure your boredom. You took a sharp left, and the footsteps following you became hurried.

"Fuck," a male voice shouted, and you laughed, and took another left, and then a right, and a left again. Leading them exactly where you wanted.

You were back near the hotel, and you slipped into the alleyway and waited. You were going to enjoy this.

You didn't have to wait long, a few seconds later a vampire rounded the corner and stopped when he saw you.

"Arthurrr, it's been a while," you said, licking your lips. "I thought you and your merry band of idiots would have learned their lesson by now," you told him.

"Well, you know me, I'm a slow learner," he replied, standing at the head of the alley, his arms crossed.

"Jean was such a nice girl, you guys were together, right?" You asked, knowing full well they were.

"We were," Arthur said, his jaw clenching, and you could see the hurt in his eyes.

"She was so sweet, always so eager to please," you continued, taking a step towards him, "and so willing to do anything for those she loved," you said, pausing, "it's a shame that you're all so willing to die for one another," you finished, taking another step forward.

"Has Elijah seen you like this?" Arthur asked, taking a step back, his hand sliding into his pocket.

"What, covered in blood and looking sexy as hell," you replied, grinning at him.

"No, like a monster."

Arthur watched you freeze, a flicker of emotion crossing your face. It was gone as fast as it came and your expression went cold again and you smirked at him.

It hurt him to see you like this, you had been his friend for decades. But this wasn't about him and you, it was even about his beloved Jean. He didn't care if Elijah would tear him apart for it. He would not let you hurt another person he loved. He had to put you down, like a rabid dog.

"Isn't that what we are Artie? Monsters."

"Not all of us," he said, his voice cracking.

"Come on, don't be shy," you said, stepping closer, "I'll let you get a hit in."

Arthur reached into his pocket and felt the needle he prepared. You were much older and stronger than he was, but all he had to do was get close enough to you and shove the needle into your skin and maybe he could end this nightmare

Marcel knelt down over Arthur's body, or at least what was left of it. He didn't have anymore tears left in him to shed.

"I'm sorry, my friend, go be with Jean," he whispered, closing Arthur's eyes.

"And Mark, Jessa, Sean, Patrick..." Said a voice from behind him.

Marcel closed his eyes and sighed, turning around and looking up at Elijah.

"How can you be so fucking callous?" Marcel snarled.

Elijah didn't know how to respond. He was numb, and the pain had become too much. He was barely holding himself together, the only thing keeping him going was his promise.

He was going to save you, no matter the cost.

"Are you just going to stand there and act like you don't care?" Marcel spat, standing up, anger and resentment coursing through him.

"Don't make this any worse than it already is," Elijah said.

"You are killing us!" Marcel shouted, taking a step towards him.

Elijah shook his head and clenched his fists, and Marcel saw the pain in his eyes. He stopped himself and took a breath.

"Elijah, she is out of control, you need to do something," he said, his voice softer.

"I know," Elijah agreed. "But... she's... I can't, not yet," he stuttered, his voice breaking, "just a few more days," he pleaded, looking at Marcel desperately.

"A few more days," Marcel scoffed, "Elijah, if you don't stop her, I will have to kill her."

Elijah flashed forward and shoved Marcel into the wall.

"You won't lay a finger on her," Elijah growled, his face inches from Marcel's.

"I don't want to," Marcel told him, and Elijah could see the truth in his eyes. "But I can't let her keep doing this, you can't expect us to sit around and let her murder everyone we love."

"Marcel..." Elijah warned, his grip tightening.

"Elijah, this has to stop," Marcel said, shoving Elijah back, "I have to stop her, before she kills the whole fucking Quarter," he exclaimed, his eyes glistening.

"I know you Mikaelsons only care about yourselves, so let me put this in a way you will understand." Marcel took a breath, and tried to remain calm. "We can't hide what she's doing anymore. The humans are scared, and are starting to ask questions. If this continues, they will figure out that we exist, and the whole world will come down on New Orleans, and none of us will make it out alive."

Elijah's shoulders slumped and he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"What would you have me do, Marcel?" Elijah asked, his voice soft and defeated.

"Turn her humanity back on."

You felt like shit, cold yet hot, your throat was on fire and every limb ached. You sat up slowly and rubbed the sleep from your eyes, and blinked several times. Your vision was blurry, and it took a moment for the room to come into focus.

You thought it was just vervain in that needle, nothing a couple of drinks couldn't fix, but when you started to see things that weren't there, you realized that Arthur must have dosed you up with wolfsbane.

You managed to crawl into some hole of an apartment to hide from the hallucinations, hoping when you woke up you would be feeling better.

But it didn't, you were dying. You could feel it.

"No," you moaned, falling back against the wall, the reality of your situation sinking in.

"You didn't think I would just let you die," a soft, familiar voice spoke.

"You're not real," you told him, refusing to look at him.

"That doesn't mean I'm not here."

You looked up and Elijah was standing in front of you. You sighed and closed your eyes, but he was still there, in your mind.

"What kind of monster are you?" He asked and you laughed.

"Child killer," you answered, looking at him, his expression was blank. "Murderer, adulterer, thief, blasphemer..." You listed, but he remained expressionless.

"Whore," he added and you laughed again.

"I'm a terrible wife," you said, smiling.

"You are a monster," he repeated.

"So are you," you snapped.

"I never claimed to be otherwise," he said.

"If you are real you should kill me," you suggested.

"I'm not real," he reminded you.

"I know, the real you would never call me a whore," you replied, and he chuckled.

"I'm dying Elijah," you stated, your eyes welling up with tears, "this is it, I can feel it."

"What are you going to do about it?"

You took a deep breath and stood up, leaning against the wall for support.

"I'm going to go get the cure," you decided, stumbling out into the night.

The compound wasn't far from the apartment, and the cold air helped you wake up, and your head was clearer, and you could focus on your destination.

"Why not let yourself die?" Elijah asked, walking alongside you.

"Living is much more fun, so many possibilities," you said, "food, sex, money..."

"Family, friends..." He added.

"Waste of time," you dismissed, waving him away, watching him dissolve.

You pushed through the iron gates, trying your best to compose yourself. You entered the courtyard and saw a few nightwalkers scattered around, they didn't notice you and continued drinking and chatting.

"Where is Klaus?" You asked loudly.

Everyone turned and looked at you, and the room fell silent. All you could see was their fear and it amused you.

"I will not ask again," you said, smiling sweetly.

"In his studio," someone answered, and you gave them a nod, and walked past then, heading upstairs.

You barged right in and found him standing in front of an easel, painting. He only painted when he was troubled, and his canvas was filled with darkness and death.

"Lovely," you commented, walking towards him.

Klaus didn't turn to look at you, he simply continued to paint. "Elijah isn't home, but I expect you know that already," he said.

"How perceptive," you remarked.

"To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?" He asked.

"I need your blood," you told him.

"Rather bold of you to ask, considering the circumstances," he said, finally turning to look at you.

You didn't know what to say. You had no words, and for once you were lost for a witty remark. You just stared at him, and he studied you.

"I've been hearing about your extracurriculars," he said, a smirk tugging at his lips.

"Is that so," you replied, and the corners of your mouth curled up.

"Killing a child, now that's unexpected," he remarked.

You ignored him, unable to respond, because it wasn't something you wanted to think about. You could see your hallucination of Elijah staring at you from the corner of the room. A small child appeared next to him, blood pouring out of her neck.

"Why didn't you save me?" She asked, her eyes filled with pain and betrayal.

"Shut up," you whispered, shaking your head.

"She died in pain, and you did nothing," the vision of Elijah said, and you closed your eyes, trying to will it all away. It was becoming irritating.

"I'm sure the mother will be most upset," Klaus said.

"Spare me the guilt trip, you've done far worse," you spat, opening your eyes, relieved the visions had disappeared.

Klaus observed your disheveled state and noticed how much you were sweating, and the dark circles under your eyes. You were clearly unwell, and it explained why you risked coming back to the compound. You really did need his blood.

"I have, love. But that's just who I am, it's not who you are," he replied, turning back to his canvas.

"Well, I've always wanted to try the whole serial killer thing," you said, trying to sound light-hearted, but the joke fell flat, and neither of you laughed.

"So you killed the child because you wanted to? Because you enjoy doing such things? I'm not even that diabolical." He chuckled, adding a bit of white to the canvas.

"Yes, Klaus, I wanted to kill her, I wanted her to suffer, and I wanted to see the look on her mother's face as I did it."

Klaus set his brush down, and turned back to you. "That's a lie, it was an accident, Marcel told me," he said, watching your eyes widen, and your face fall.

"It was an accident," the little girl's ghost said, appearing in front of you.

You stumbled back, bumping into the sofa, and the girl was right in front of you.

"Why didn't you save me?" She repeated, tears filling her eyes.

"FUCK!" You yelled, your hands gripping the sides of your head.

"Wolfsbane is one hell of a trip," Klaus said casually, watching you stumble back from something he couldn't see.

"If you won't give me your blood, just kill me, I rather not die in agony," you told him.

"Do you think you deserve it?" He asked.

"Deserve what? Death, mercy, life? Who knows, who cares," you answered.

"I think Elijah does," Klaus said, and you froze.

"I'm not talking about this with you," you said, turning to leave.

"Despite what you may think, I do consider you family, even in the state you are in," he said, and he saw the look of surprise on your face.

"Ahh, there it is," he said softly, "a flicker of feeling just under the surface, fight your way back y/n," he encouraged.

Frustration was the only thing you were feeling and you lashed out, pushing over his easel, knocking his paints off the table.

He raised his eyebrows at your outburst and laughed, it was a rough, genuine laugh, and he grinned at you.

"Very well, Elijah wouldn't be pleased if I let you die and I kind of like you like this," he admitted, "though, you are rather irritable."

You stopped yourself from talking back, just needing to get your hands on his blood. You didn't want to waste any more time with him.

"Now, what am I going to ask in return," Klaus said, stroking his chin, "something I've been wanting for a very long time."

"If you want to fuck you don't have to bribe me," you told him.

"As tempting as that is, no," he said, grinning. "I want a favor, in the future," he offered.

"You're going to have to be more specific."

"That's the beauty of a favor, it can be anything," he said.

"Fine," you snapped, "blood now please,"

Klaus smirked and opened a drawer in the table, taking out a vial and handing it to you. You snatched it from his hand and uncapped the lid, gulping the blood down.

"What hallucinations were you having?" He asked, and you froze, and he laughed.

"Private ones," you replied, placing the empty vial on the table.

"You're no fun," he pouted. "You have my blood now, get out," he said, returning to his canvas.

You didn't argue, leaving him to his painting, and returned to the main courtyard. You stood there, trying to figure out your next move. You knew what was waiting for you if you turned your humanity back on. Guilt and self-loathing, and the pain of knowing what you've done, and not being able to take it back.

You needed to leave the city before they forced you to turn it back on. There was nothing here for you anyway, not anymore.

"That's her," you heard someone say, and looked around.

"Are you sure?" Another asked.

"I'm sure," the first one confirmed.

They were staring right at you, but the fear in their eyes from earlier was gone, replaced with anger and resentment. You smiled and flashed forward, snapping the neck of the vampire who had identified you.

The rest charged, and you were surrounded by vampires, but it wasn't a challenge. You were far older and stronger than them. The courtyard turned into a slaughterhouse and the floor was covered in blood.

You were standing over a body, tearing the heart out when Marcel called your name. You dropped the heart and slowly turned, your lips curling up into a smirk.

Marcel grabbed your arm, trying to break your hold, but it was no use, you were stronger than him. You smiled, digging your fingers deeper, and he gasped.

"Marcellus," you greeted, smirking. Before he could react you slammed him against the wall. "I was hoping I would run into you," you said, pressing your hand into his chest. "We have some unfinished business,"

"I taught you better than that sweet Marcel," you taunted, twisting your wrist.

Marcel looked into your eyes, full of emotion, and you couldn't tell if it was sadness or pity.

"Stop this," he said, his grip tightening, and he tried to push you back. "I don't want to kill you," he said, his voice softer.

"And why not?" You asked, digging your fingers deeper, his face twisted in pain.

"Because..." he choked out, his heart slowing down, and his vision blurred, "I know you are still in there, my friend, and I'm not going to lose you,"

"I was so boring, so full of weakness," you told him, "this is who I was meant to be."

"No, you're not," he gasped, struggling to breathe, his legs buckling under the pressure. "You were the woman who helped raise me, would bake me apple pies whenever I had a bad day, would let me sleep in the same bed as her and Elijah when I had a nightmare, the woman who taught me love and compassion," he told you, and his grip tightened on your arm.

"And now she is hurting because she made a mistake, and that is something that I can forgive, because I know her heart is good."

You laughed coldly, his attempts to manipulate you not working, and you tightened your grip. You didn't want to hear anymore from him, his words were getting under your skin in a way that caused fear to trickle in.

"Goodbye, Marcel," you said, squeezing his heart, and it was too late for him to stop you, his strength was leaving him.

"Darling, put Marcellus down," said the last voice you wanted to hear. The one that could make all your pain return.

You felt him behind you, his hand on your waist. Your breath caught in your throat and the hairs on the back of your neck stood up.

"Let him go," Elijah said softly, his hand moving to your arm, keeping you from tearing Marcels heart out.

"Fuck off Elijah," you growled, struggling to get free, but his grip was like a vice.

"We can do this the hard way if you insist, I have no issue breaking your neck," he warned.

"You would never do that to your precious wife," you taunted, tugging in Elijah's grasp causing Marcel to cough up more blood.

Elijah let out a long sigh, then he moved faster than you could comprehend and everything went black.

You woke in a small windowless room, only a few candles illuminating the space. You were in a chair, your wrists bound by chains.

"You're awake," a voice came from the shadows, and Elijah stepped into the light.

"This is kinky, even for you Elijah," you teased.

He did not look amused, sadness and regret filled his eyes, and he had never looked so broken. He knelt in front of you, and rested his hand on yours.

"Turn it back on," he demanded, looking into your eyes.

"I can't," you lied.

"Yes, you can," he said, his grip tightening.

"No, I can't," you argued, "turning it off was the best decision I have ever made."

"What happened was an accident, it wasn't your fault," Elijah said, and you could see the pain in his eyes, "and turning off your emotions does not fix things, it only makes it worse."

You let him talk, he was so good at it, his deep sexy voice creating a perfect melody of bullshit. But you let him think he was getting through to you as you subtly slipped out of your restraints. Your loving husband was so trusting.

"We can work through this, I can help you," he continued, "I love you," he said, his thumb gently caressing the back of your hand.

"I know," you replied, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, and without a word you freed yourself from the chains and sped to the door.

Elijah was quicker, blocking your path. You let out a huff and tried to push past him, but he shoved you back and grabbed your shoulders.

You felt anger again, the only thing you could feel and you unleashed it on him. Clawing, scratching, striking him wherever you could. He took everything you threw at him, and eventually, he trapped you against the wall.

You let you a high pitched scream, it was feral and animalistic, and you thrashed in his grip, but his body pressed against yours, his hands on either side of your head, keeping you still.

"Stop," he said softly, it was barley a whisper.

Your body was pressed firmly against his, and you could feel his heart racing.

"Please," he begged, his eyes filling with tears.

He didn't look angry or annoyed, he looked sad, and it wasn't until then that you noticed his blood, covering your hands and clothes, and you realized how much you had hurt him.

"Just stop, please," he said, his voice cracking, and you knew the pain was too much.

You looked up at him and felt your anger give way into sadness. It was just a trickle, a soft misting of emotion, but it was there. You knew what was coming next.

You felt the weight of everything that had happened, all the hurt, and the pain, and the death, and it consumed you. The dam broke and you wanted, no, needed; to turn it off again.

Elijah could see the torment in your eyes, the light flickering behind them, fighting to return.

"Do you know why I fell in love with you? Why I married you?" He said softly, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

"You pity me, that's all," you said.

"Because," he began, taking your hand in his, "you have a heart," he said, placing your palm on his chest, "that's bigger than anything else, your kindness is endless. Even as a vampire you have always helped more than you've harmed, and that is a gift that not many have."

"Elijah," you whimpered, feeling the weight of his words and the force of your emotions bearing down on you.

"And I can't watch you destroy yourself any longer, because if you die, a part of me will die with you," he finished, leaning forward and pressing his forehead to yours. "You have to feel all the pain, it's worth it, because you also can experience the love," he said, gently cupping your face, "the love I have for you."

You couldn't help yourself, the flood gates had opened, and there was no closing them. You let out a small gasp, and the tears streamed down your cheeks, and he kissed them away.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," you sobbed, clinging to him.

"It's alright," he hushed, pulling away and brushing the tears from your cheeks.

You didn't respond, you couldn't. You felt a wave of nausea wash over you, and your knees buckled. Elijah caught you, and pulled you close, holding you tight.

"I got you, it's okay," he assured, lifting you off your feet.

He sat down in the chair and held you on his lap. You couldn't stop crying, your face buried in the crook of his neck, and he cradled you.

"I'm a monster," you said quietly, and he held you closer.

"Not to me, never to me," he said, his fingers combing through your hair, and he felt you tremble.

"I killed her," you whimpered, your body tensing and your eyes clenched shut. "An innocent,"

"Shhh," he hushed, and you clung to him.

"How could I," you said, pulling away from him.

"It wasn't your fault. It was an accident, you tried to save her," he reminded, stroking your cheek.

"What's the point of having the power to heal when I can't even save a child," you cried, the guilt and shame tearing you apart.

"She fell, no one could have stopped it, not even Niklaus," he said, his hand moving to the back of your neck, pulling your head forward.

His lips brushed over your forehead, and he planted a small kiss. "Let's go home," he whispered, and your eyes widened.

"I can't, everyone will hate me, I deserve to die," you protested, pushing him away.

"You've been my wife for five hundred years, but only now have you become a true Mikaelson," he chuckled, picking you up and carrying you to the door.

It would take time, penance, and a lot of groveling to repair the damage you had done, and there was a chance some of them may never forgive you, but you had a chance now, to make amends, and that was all you could hope for.

It had been a week since you turned your humanity back on, and it was still painful, and overwhelming.

Klaus came to you one day, while Elijah was out. He had his hands in his pockets and he leaned against the doorframe. He could see how much you were struggling, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"I'm here to call in that favor," he announced, and your eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?" You asked, not bothering to look at him. "I'm really not in the mood, so say it fast and get out."

"You need to promise me that you will fulfill it, no matter how difficult," he warned, and you groaned, rolling your eyes.

"Just spit it out Klaus," you said, glaring at him.

"Forgive yourself."

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

♡ @gorgeouslydangerous ♡ @starkleila ♡ @lydia1369sworld ♡ @notleylaaa ♡ @vampiresluv ♡ @vamprium ♡ @myanmy ♡ @xflowerbombxo ♡ @maryvibess ♡ @always-and-forever-daydreaming ♡ @criminallminds ♡ @theesexystallion ♡ @rosemarypotion ♡ @spnaquakindgdom ♡ @amournoir ♡ @loving-and-dreaming ♡ @meeom ♡ @damienmorton ♡ @wickedmuse ♡ @sunkissedebony97 ♡ @idk00sblog ♡ @savannaounana ♡ @cs-please

#elijah mikaelson #the originals #the vampire diaries #vampire diaries #tvdu #marcel gerard #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikealson imagine #elijah mikealson #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikealson x reader #tvd #the vampire diaries x you #the vampire diaries x reader #the vampire diares imagine #the vampire diaries imagine #the originals imagine #elijah mikaelson smut

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nothomegal · 10 months ago

Note

Mmm, this isnt a fic request (or maybe yes) but i NEED for reader to break and finally give in for their cuddle session with Danny, oh! And finally start to fall in love with him

Aww you're right anon! I guess it's only the matter of time for the reader to eventually give in and accept the weird ghost guy that keeps sneaking into their life (and house).

And I know it took me way too long to do your request, I apologize for the wait, had some trouble writing this since I never liked how it turned out -.-' Luckily though, I think I finally got something decent!

"Favorite person"

(Ghostface x GN Reader)

Summary: everyone has a limit, and unfortunately today is the day you reached yours as life wasn't all too kind to you for the last 24 hours... But hey, at least your dear intruder has your back, so not everything is that bad! Right, doll?

Warnings: mild example of unhealthy and obsessive behavior, the rest it's all fluff.

Word count: 2.2k

The grip around (Y/N) remained tight. The intruder kept holding their tied form closely in complete silence, something very out of his character.

But such oddness didn’t come from nowhere, and (Y/N) was the one who indirectly caused it. Today was probably the worst day of their life, everything that could’ve gone wrong, went wrong. It's honestly incredible they still had the emotional strength to return home without bursting into tears on their way.

They’re not quite sure how or when they fell asleep, their mind been a mush of blur since they entered their home. All they can remember is waking up already laying in bed with their arms tied behind their back and their body pressed against the chest of the masked man, the same one that would often come to mess with them.

Sometimes he would reveal himself willingly and others just stay in the shadows and observe them from afar or straight from the corner while they’re in a deep sleep.

This night however, apart from tying their hands, he haven't done anything from his previous visits. No cheeky remarks about anything specific they did that day, no rants about some random topic and no attempts to scare or tease them... Heck, he didn't even run his hand through their hair or body. Absolutely no additional touches beside holding them close.

This really threw (Y/N) off. Ghostface, who's been a huge pain for them, the authorities and basically everyone in the town, was... Acting so thoughtful, nothing like the selfish villain he's been portraying himself as for the past numerous nights.

It's not the first time he hugs and holds them in his arms, he's actually super touchy with them and never fails to express his amusement of how helpless they always look. But now?... Now it doesn't feel like any of his shenanigans, but a genuine attempt to comfort them while not pushing too much, though the effectiveness of said attempt remains questionable.

Their thoughts and wonders were interrupted when they feel movement and then something grab their chin to then gently move their head up until they're face to face with that unsettling mask that resembled a ghost.

—“Feeling better?"—

They don't make a sound, quite the opposite, they press their lips in a thin line as they stare into the dark eyes of his mask.

—"If I take off the tape, will you talk to me?"—

Their body tensed at such question. Is he... Is he actually going to?...

—"Of course as long as you don't try anything funny... But you know better."— he leans closer to your face. —"Right, (Y/N)?"—

They gulp nervously, but Ghostface is right, they do know better than to gamble with their luck. Besides, they have no energy to fight or struggle anyways, so of course they'll play along... For now, at least.

With a more defeated look, they slowly nod.

The man releases a pleased hum and without a warning yanks the tape off of their moth, making them yelp from the pain and surprise.

—“There you go, hope it didn’t hurt too much.”— he snorts at your cringed expression.

—“It… It did… A bit.”— you mutter quietly. —“But not as much as a stab would…”—

The killer paused at the sound of their voice, but the calm was short as out the sudden he grabbed them by the chin again and squeezed their face a bit.

—"Aww, look, your first words.”— he remarks playfully before tilting his head. —“Well? Isn’t it just sweet to finally be able to talk, hmm?”—

(Y/N) remains quiet for a couple of seconds, unsure if they should speak again or not. But when It became clear that the interaction wouldn't progress without their contribution, they force themselves to talk.

—"I… Y-Yeah… It is nice."— you answer while studying his masked face. —"But… Please, don’t get too mad at me for replying slow... I'm not used to talk to... Killers, after all. {Or people in general...}”—

—"...Mad? At you? Oh silly..."—

His head then straightened and he squeezed their face a bit tighter.

—"You're so comically shy that I wish I could just cut you up and pull out some confidence out of your body."— he says in a playful tone, though it sounded way more sinister than intended. —"But it's not that you aren't good at speaking, it's the people you call 'friends' that made you believe that..."—

His tone then became significantly colder at the last part, which made (Y/N) tense and go quiet. But despite the dread, they couldn't help but agree with the killer, their friends indeed aren't as good as they thought.

It's another of the many bad things that happened to them today. They weren't supposed to discover it, they just got in the wrong place at the wrong time and ended up overhearing the few people they thought they were close with talk about them. Nasty comment after comment, disgust and disrespect lingering in their tones as they said their name between insults and cruel jokes…

They didn't even bother to listen to the end of the conversation, they just fled the scene and did their best to not cry until they arrived home. And in the entire day, in this whole period of time they looked so pathetic and miserable, none of their other ‘friends’ bothered to see if they're alright or help with any other issue. Absolutely no one took a moment to even say 'hello', and that made (Y/N) feel the loneliest, like they're just a ghost in other people's life, being acknowledged only when they announce their presence.

They get pulled back to reality when the hand lets go of their face and their body is pressed closer to the masked man, making the embrace feel more intimate.

—"...Sorry I can't take the angst as easily as I take people out."— he mutters, his hand slowly traveling up and down your head. —"But I can prevent said angst in the future. These assholes will not disturb you again, I made sure they won't..."— his grip tightens, turning almost possessive.

A shiver traveled down their spine at his words.

They should be afraid, panic that this stranger so deliberately admitted of harming, and most likely murdering, their friends like it’s the most mundane thing to do. They definitely should at least freak out or give any other kind of distressed reaction, they should… But they don’t.

To be completely honest, they weren't even upset at what Ghostface did. After today's interaction their view on his character changed quite drastically. Though he still had that playful and cocky behavior, they now know that whenever he says or shows them care... It's genuine, or so they think. Could this be a trick to make them let their guard down? Definitely. Does it make sense? Uh... Not really, but this man likes to do odd things to throw off any bystander with his shenanigans.

But even if their strange relationship is just a game to him, then damn he's good at it. They almost feel like them matter, like they can be loved and it's just bad luck people around them can't see or appreciate them... Unfortunately though... They know it's not true, it can't be true, they're too pathetic for that, so much that even a psycho killer had pity over them to pretend-

A surprised gasp escaped (Y/N) when their body was suddenly flipped and tackled against the mattress, with Ghostface now looming over them.

They didn't even need to see his face to know what type of expression he had, the atmosphere was all it took to know he was upset.

—"I am not pleased with how you keep viewing yourself, (Y/N)."— he finally says after a pause. —"And I am certainly pissed that you're doing it around me."—

All (Y/N) could do is stare at the ghastly mask in dead silence. Despite having their mouth untapped, they couldn't bring themselves to make a sound, as if paralyzed from fear and anticipation of what he would do if they happen to upset him more.

When the killer began to lean down lowly, they held their breath by instinct.

—"I'll say this one time, and you better not force me to repeat it."— he said in a low and slow tone. —"You are my favorite person in this whole cursed world. And I swear if you dare to think badly about yourself again, I'll fucking stab you."—

He pauses, either letting his words sink in or re-evaluating what he just said or is about to say.

After not coming to a clear conclusion, he sighs with mild frustration.

—"I... Look. I'm aware of my reputation and the image you have of me. And though I do like to amuse myself with these visits of mine, not ones I did it to mess with you, not in the way you think..."—

He pauses again, the eyes of his mask staring directly into theirs, either studying their expression or thinking.

—"I wanted to end you ones..."—

As he speaks again in a lower voice as he extends his hand, aiming for their neck.

—"...But I don’t want it anymore."—

The hand was drastically redirected towards their face, covering their eyes in a quick movement. Whatever sound of surprise or confusion (Y/N) was about to make is shushed when something soft and warm was pressed against their lips, the sensation sending shivers through their body.

—"{Or ever again.}"—

That's all they heard before their eyes were uncovered and Ghostface plopped on the mattress right next to them, his head placed on his hand as he waits for their reaction.

(Y/N) can only cluelessly blink while staring at the ceiling, wondering if the warm sensation they just felt on their lips was actually Ghostface-...

Their face starts to get progressively redder as the realization kicks in. My god. Ghostface, from all people, actually!-

Their head snaps at his direction when that famous deep raspy chuckle left him, clearly entertained by the fifty shades of red their face is going through.

—"What? Never had a kiss stolen before?"— he teases.

—"I- Uh... No. Not really..."— you answer as you look away, face even redder.

—"Good, all for me then."—

Now it's (Y/N) who lets out a snort, finding his behavior silly yet quite charming. Huh, strange how quickly they moved on, the previous dread and fear they felt when he pinned them was now like a long forgotten dream...

Is the famous Stockholm syndrome affecting them already? Why are they suddenly so okay with his presence? Even when knowing about his mood swings they can't shake off this strange sensation of comfort...

Is it because his actions and intentions are now confirmed to be genuine? Because he really seems to like and cherish their company? Cherish them?...

...

...You know?

Fuck everything.

They're too tired for this 'BS' about morality and shit. It will be a tomorrow problem to overthink, now they should just give in and take this night to relax and... Well, maybe even put into use this little freedom of speech they got and actually chat to the man, maybe even get to know more about him.

They look at killer again, the dark eyes of his mask still fixated on their form as he observes them in silence, almost like he's looking at a piece of art rather than another person.

—"So... Are you going to stay here all night?"— you finally ask.

He's silent for a little while.

—"You want me to?"—

—"Kinda. You... You're not too bad of a company, I guess."— you shoot him a timid smile. —"And even if I didn't I doubt you would've leave."—

He lets out a snort at their last comment and then lies down, a bit closer to them.

—"You're right, you're now haunted by me either you want it or not."—

There is a small pause between them, both just laying and looking at each other, a strange atmosphere of calm now lingered in the room, making this moment feel oddly right.

Out of the sudden, they feel a pair of arms snake around their form and bring them ones again into that warm and intimate hug. And this time, they welcome the gesture by snuggling closer to the man and letting out a content sigh.

—"So."— he then says as he tilts his head to look at you, now in his arms. —"What's your favorite scary movie? I never got an answer to this question."—

—"Huh? Aren't you supposed to know that?"— you arch your brow. —"Y'know cuz of the whole stalker thing and all..."—

—"Yes, but want to hear you tell me that. I just really like the sound of your voice."—

They can feel their cheeks warm up, and they can't avoid to get even shyer when the man chuckles at their expression.

—"W-Well... I have a couple."—

At first they sounded awkward while speaking, as if expecting him to interrupt them or laugh at their preferences. Nevertheless, he never made a sound and seemed to pay close attention to what they're saying, sometimes even asking more things about the movies when given the opportunity. Overall, Ghostface is a very nice guy to talk about any kind of nerdy horror stuff!

At some point, they even forgot that the man holding them was a serial murder. It actually felt like talking to an old dear friend rather than a criminal.

And as they talk through the night, (Y/N) finally understands why Ghostface always became so touchy and clingy whenever he had a bad day.

Cuddles and rants indeed help, especially if done with your favorite person.

And though they're certain he's not one yet... Just by seeing how the night progresses.

They wouldn't be too surprised if he somehow sneaks his way into such spot.

#nothomegal ask reply #nothomegal fic #ghostface #ghostface x reader #danny johnson #danny johnson x reader #gn reader #nothomegal oneshot

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sungbeam · 2 years ago

Text

𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

gamer/streamer!choi beomgyu x f!reader

1.5k words, fluff/comfort, reader has hair long enough for a claw clip, strawberries, est. relationship au, the background info dump in the beginning was for my own entertainment tbh

Choi Beomgyu loved you.

Sometimes he wondered how you could possibly love someone like him—a loser who streamed League half the day away, lived in his pajamas, and dropped out of college to play video games for hundreds of thousands of people online. He barely went out of the house, unless it was to touch grass, but he had managed to snag your attention nonetheless.

He liked to joke that you were in it for his celebrity status. It was made all the more ironic, since you had no idea who he was when he'd first introduced himself to you in the self-checkout aisle of a grocery store, and you'd stared at him like he was high. Beomgyu, humbled to all hell, had stuttered out an apology and bowed about ninety degrees—then asked for your number like a normal person.

Ah, good times.

He'd then somehow mustered up enough swagger to date you for two years and counting. And now, you were moved in and got to hear him yell at a handful of computer monitors for twelve hours a day. (Love was funny, wasn't it?)

But if forever was the sweetest con, then dear god, he hoped he could pull this one off.

It was during one of his streams that he heard the front door slam from his office. He had just finished a round, and when he had heard the door but not your voice, he pushed back from his desk so he could lean back and give you a holler. "Yn! Yn-ie! Babyyyyy!"

He waited a beat.

A frown curled his mouth downward when he didn't hear your reply. Uh oh.

Tongue in cheek, Beomgyu used his feet to bring him back to his computer screen. His eyes flickered with the pace at which his chat flew past. "Hey chat, I need to check up on my girl. I'll be right back. Go get a snack or something."

With that, he dumped his headset onto the desk and raced out of the office.

He flew out into the main living space of the apartment, his eyes scanning the premises for you. With both of your incomes combined, the two of you managed to live comfortably in a nice apartment complex just north of the main city center. You both shared a bedroom and bathroom, while also getting separate, small office spaces. You used yours a lot less than he did his, but it was nice to have one in case.

Instead of your figure, he found your keys and shoes by the door, and a grocery bag on the island counter.

He backpedaled over to the bedroom next, head poking into the darkened room. His voice came out low, "Babe, you here?"

"Yeah," came your small response.

He tracked it to the bathroom, where you were hunched over your sink in the dark, your hair pulled back in a claw clip. Your face was damp like you had just washed it, but he didn't miss the way you were wiping at your eyes. Something sank in his chest, something heavy that made his body slump in dread.

"Sorry, I didn't wanna bother you," you said, forcing stability into your voice, even if it still shook a little.

You reached for your facial towel to hide your melancholy, but Beomgyu liked to think he paid more attention than you were giving him credit for.

He wrapped his arms around your middle from behind, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "Hey, you're never a bother; you know that," he replied softly. "What's wrong, hm? How can I help?"

Your body shook with a sob as you cried into the towel. Beomgyu's chest clenched at the sound, at the feeling. God, he was right here, and yet, he felt so helpless, so useless. "It's nothing—I… I just… I'm just tired," you managed to say.

You sniffled, avoiding his eyes in the dark mirror as you set the towel aside and began washing your face again.

Beomgyu pursed his lips and sucked in a breath. "Yn-ie, you know I'm not just gonna let you go to sleep this upset, baby."

When you'd patted your face dry again, you were left with reddened, puffy eyes. You turned around to press your face into his warm chest. His arms looped around you like second nature to hold you to him.

Beomgyu gently smoothed a hand over the back of your head, letting the tension from the claw clip loosen the headache no doubt forming in your cranium. He clipped the accessory to his belt loop, quietly trying to calm your muffled cries. "Come on. Let's get some food into your stomach, okay? It'll make you feel better."

He led you out to the kitchen, helping you onto one of the bar stools while he rummaged through the grocery bag you brought home. His chest panged when he imagined you going through the grocery store while holding back tears. Had you cried there, or perhaps it had all come flooding out here?

There were a few things to add to the fridge, but he found a carton of big, red strawberries at the bottom of the bag. He released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding in—you'd managed to get yourself something. Good. He was glad.

Usually in your shared household, you were the one to wash and cut and peel fruit for him. You fed him all the healthy things, kept him a normal functioning human being. You kept him sane.

So Beomgyu took the carton of strawberries out of the bag and transferred them to a colander to be washed. He then carefully sliced the stems off each berry, sliced them into halves, until the colander was empty and the bowl he had on the counter, filled.

He wiped his hands on the towel hanging below the sink, then brought the bowl of glistening red fruit before you.

"For you," he murmured, one warm palm pressed between your shoulder blades, his lips brushing a kiss to your hairline. "I'll be right back."

Beomgyu hurried back to the office to find his viewers waiting.

He braced his arm on the desk, forgoing sitting down in the chair. He swept a lock of his long hair out of his eyes as he skimmed some of the live comments in the chat. A huff of laughter, then a shake of his head. "You guys are so weird. I'm signing off for the night though—no, I don't owe you an explanation... Okay, it's my baby—yeah, yeah, I see you rampaging in the comments, Chenle."

Beomgyu wrinkled his nose playfully. "I'm not a fuckin' simp, you losers. At least I have a partner. Okay, whatever. Later, guys."

He turned off the stream with a tap of his mouse, and then he was back by your side. You seemed to have calmed down a little, but what lacked your sobbing came a sad, startling quiet. Quiet from you wasn't unusual per se, but this one felt empty.

Beomgyu stood behind your stool, one of his arms curling around your middle as he peered over your shoulder at the bowl. You'd eaten a few slices of the fruit while he was gone, but it wasn't as much as he had hoped you would have eaten.

He released a light exhale, reaching for a strawberry slice and popping it into his mouth. He leaned his head against yours. "Wanna snuggle?" He asked you quietly.

A small smile pulled at the corners of your mouth, and he mentally high-fived himself. "Is that a yes?" He gasped with a childlike excitement. "You wanna snuggle with me?"

You nodded, not trusting your voice just yet, but that was okay. He heard you loud and clear.

You turned on the stool so you could wrap your limbs around his body.

Beomgyu cooed softly. "My sweet baby. I'm so sorry you have to feel this way." He kissed your head again, his arms shifting so he could hoist your body up and carry you over to the sofa with him.

He collapsed onto the sofa with a melodramatic grunt, then flopped backward so you were lying on top of his chest. He wondered, with your ear pressed against him, if you could hear just how much your proximity affected him. Even after all this time. If, maybe, you felt even a fraction of what he felt for you (just a fraction would make his heart soar). There was no way you didn't, right?

He wrapped both arms around you with a sigh. "I know you don't want to talk about it," he murmured, "just know it'll be alright. All of it. Even if it seems like the world is falling apart, even if you feel like a failure—you will get through this. I know you can; I know you will."

Your first words since earlier to him came at almost an inaudible volume. "And if I can't? What then?"

"Then I'll be here to help you," he answered. Yes, that was it. His breath was warm against your cheek, against your ear. "I'll always be here."

txt m.list

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#kflixnet #txt x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x reader #txt drabble #txt oneshot #txt fluff #txt imagines #txt scenarios #beomgyu drabbles #choi beomgyu drabble #choi beomgyu fluff #choi beomgyu imagines #beomgyu oneshot #beomgyu fluff #beomgyu imagines

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weebsinstash · 8 months ago

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I've been having a lot of FOOD based ideas for Alastor recently, because cooking and eating in general can actually be VERY personal, intimate things, so here's a bunch of concepts all at once

- I keep thinking of ideas where Reader's hotel room is set up like a studio apartment and you have your own little kitchen in there and ideas stemming from that where Alastor likes to pop in and see what youre cooking and, semi occasionally give critique you didnt ask for but is sometimes actually super helpful

You know, I've had a whole "hotel having group meals" thing and I just picture there are specific nights or times where everyone has the option to gather for some home cooked food, but Alastor refuses to participate because Lucifer is the one cooking, so he's wandering the Hotel until he smells something absolutely delicious, and he finds you cooking in your room, and him visiting you starts becoming a regular thing. He just suddenly appears two feet behind you without warning, "SO! What's for eatin' tonight?" with his Cheshire grin while you give a startled shriek and he potentially has to keep you from spilling or breaking whatever you're holding

- I've been learning how to cook more things and, since it's, you know, LEARNING, I have to look up and double check a lot of stuff, which I use my cellphone for, and I can imagine Alastor HAAAAATING this. You're telling me you've got this intelligent, distinguished gentleman chef right next to you and his nosey ass peeks over your shoulder to see you Voogling "how to cook rice"???? You'd rather use that blasted device than ask your deer friend? He'd be kind of offended actually. Just one of those things that makes him click his tongue at you and pat your head like you're so pitifully helpless, how are you EVER going to be able to care for yourself if you overly rely on tech so much? Guess he'll just have to use this as an excuse to become a mentor to you--

- so, you know, I'm gonna come right out and say I have some, vaguely disordered eating habits, and I can just picture Alastor having some uh, feelings about if his dear Reader wasn't eating properly. Like, this is a Louisiana man from the deep south who's probably grown up on all kinds of soul food and delicious but soooo unhealthy meals where the focus is really more on if it fills your tummy and tastes good, so like... imagine he's been dining with you and getting closer to you and he pops in on you one day, "hey hon, what's for lunch today?" in his typical joking self and you're just like, "oh actually I'm on a diet so I'm fasting right now :)". Pandemonium.

Like literally, Alastor is deriving so much comfort and entertainment from your food and getting to spend time with you and even just chat with you while you cook even of he isn't hungry, and one day he hears your stomach growl and he asks you when you ate last and "oh I had a breakfast sandwich yesterday morning" and you act like that's totally normal that you're standing there borderline salivating from hunger and he can HEAR your tummy growling and you're just "oh my gosh I'm so happy I've been losing so much weight! This new diet is really working for me ^^"

- honestly I keep thinking of. Alastor with a BBW or just plus sized person in general and he loves how big and soft and cuddly you are and you bake all kinds of delicious treats and snacks to spoil him with and he gives you hugs like he did with Mimzy so you can really SQUEEZE his lanky scarecrow ass up against your plush body, BUT I also see him in this scenario personally detesting when you start dieting, because in this scenario you're basically becoming kind of orthorexic, fasting, limiting what foods you eat and how much, eating foods with very little caloric value in high amounts. He can't share meals with you anymore. You don't cook the foods he likes anymore. You're becoming obsessed with diet and exercise but you're not even consuming the right combination of nutrients to properly and healthily lose weight and build muscle so you're just, slowly becoming weaker and more malnourished like LITERALLY becoming significantly more unhealthy trying to diet than what you were doing before

I just picture it gets to the point where Alastor literally forces you to eat. I'm talking you're bound in a chair, he's sitting across from you, and there's a hearty meaty bowl of stew in his hands as he raises a spoonful up to your mouth. You're crying and whimpering over how this will make you gain weight and being forced to take bites and, something about this meat tastes a little unusual as Alastor starts talking about, "lovely ladies such as yourself need more iron in their diet to stay healthy"

- I know I keep thinking of Alastor cannibalism ideas in a horror context but I've also thought about Reader CONSENSUALLY engaging in cannibalism. Like. Alastor comes to visit you one day and he can tell something has happened to you. It's all over your face: dour expression, dead eyes, low voice, just more withdrawn. You're cooking some kind of meat in a way he would consider almost experimental, as if you're not used to preparing this dish before, dont know how to season or flavor it. I think he would be able to tell by the smell what it is but I like to picture he's in peaceful ignorance until you quietly set down a plate in front of him and one for yourself as you take a seat with him and you just, quietly glance from him and the food and start talking,

"I, uh... was drinking with a friend of mine, a male friend... JUST a friend, and, I, I thought he was really nice, and, funny, and, I caught him trying to put something in my drink, so," and you look up at Alastor after you finish chewing a bite,

"Does he taste overcooked to you?"

And Alastor just gets this BIG smile, ears twitching happily, so thrilled for multiple multiple reasons, "oh hon, he tastes DIVINE, you really outdid yourself❤️❤️❤️"

- I will say though an idea I keep coming back to actually involves Rosie! You've been cooking with Alastor for weeks and, one day he shows up with company! I think it would actually be quite flattering at first: Alastor brought a friend to eat with you? And she's like, an important person? So... you're friends then? He likes you enough to bring his buddies around and introduce you? And of course, Rosie is an absolute delight, loves your cooking, loves your jokes, adores you, tries to chatter and pry all kinds of juicy details and gossip out of you, just a friendly chatty Cathy

Unbeknownst to you, some of the meat Alastor occasionally provides has been different types of Sinner Demons and one day Rosie comes to stop by where you're staying and, you're absolutely hysterical, in a rage, and Rosie has to ask Alastor, "oh, what's wrong? What's with all the tears, hon?"

"She doesn't like eating Hector."

"But she LOVES eating Hector! She loves how all his cartilage and fat cooks down!"

"She :) may or may not have been aware she was eating Hector"

"ALASTOR >:("

But Rosie is also too attached with you at this point so, you know, they'll ""apologize"" for not informing you you've been eating like entire fucking people, but, they're not uh, they're not gonna stop coming around. Like can you picture they come to visit you days later like it's nothing and you don't come to the door and they "invite themselves in" (alastor may or may not have copied your key, not that he needs to but it's more formal than using his magic to break in) and your fridge and pantry have been completely cleared out of every single ingredient and cooked meal, like you couldn't trust a single fucking thing, not even the bouillon cubes, and they find all your lovingly cooked meals that the two cannibals loved to eat with you, rotting in a garbage can outside. Not that they're gonna dig shit out of the trash or anything but like imagine them BEING ANNOYED that you've wasted perfectly good food. Not just your money, but, sweetie, all your hard work :'(

- also, final one. Circling back to the "you cook in your hotel room but sometimes Lucifer serves group meals" idea, imagine Alastor eventually really does something to piss you off and, he's coming to join you for dinner and there's already other people there, the whole Hotel actually, INCLUDING Lucifer. And I just. Oooo I picture the jealousy, like EXTREME JEALOUSY where you're turning and asking Lucifer how to do certain things and teach you and you just seem so much more COMFORTABLE around the tiny devil over the cannibal and Alastor is grinding his teeth while you're talking, "Alastor doesn't like tea so, I guess you and I get to have all this sweet tea I made for ourselves" and Lucifer just, "oh gosh, I'd never pass up on something YOU made. I've been having a lot of fun teaching you stuff and cooking more! You could even call us," *looks DIRECTLY at Alastor* "best friends >:)"

ALASTOR GRINDING HIS TEETH TO DUST, stalking up to the two of you, twisting and snapping his neck to tower over Lucifer, "may I SPEAK with you PRIVATELY for a moment" and Lucifer just, "uhhhhhh, no? I'm helping her finish food for everyone" and then the little fallen angel turns his head towards you, "oh no, don't cut that like that, you might hurt yourself!" And he slides up next to you on a stool or uses his wings and, he's MUCH touchier than Alastor so the stag is like VISIBLY UPSET as Lucifer gently puts his own hands over yours, "here, place your fingers like this and cut in this motion--" AND WHAT'S THE WORST IS YOU DON'T SEEM TO MIND LUCIFER TOUCHING YOU, like. Alastor is about to start full blown tantruming on a room full of people. Charlie is inviting him to come and sit down while Husker knows the Radio Demon well enough to see he's about to pop a blood vessel and prompt excuses himself from the room to avoid what will surely become a physical altercation

God forbid, Lucifer says some shit like, "you know, your cooking reminds me a lot like my third wife's" and you're just "oh, you got married a third time???" And here's the Devil, SHAMELESSLY "oh, not yet ;)"

Yeah, I'd say a pretty big fight would break out after that

#yandere x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor x reader #Lucifer x reader #hh #sinprompts #yandere stuff

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