#at least his body looks properly leveled-out

[mewkwota]

Last-night doodles of Volnutt, each with some anatomical error. With the way you're built (in this body at least) I feel a strong need to take you apart and observe every detail-- even then I'm still drawing you wrong.

[yuutryingtowrite]

Yandere!Chef x Vampire!Reader

A/N: If you like this setting, consider reading about your male maid at the castle too. And, if you wanna know more about the levels, check this post :) . The Laios fan art is because that is exactly how I imagined Chef’s body to look like Warning: Not nsfw, but suggestive. MDNI. Chef calls reader "Madam"

Danger level: ★ ★ ★ ☆ ☆

Submissive level: ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎ ♡

_______________________________

Credits: @NGreentail on Twitter/X

~Your First Dinner with Him~

Yandere!Chef who is really oblivious. He has been staying at your castle for a while now and yet, he still doesn’t know that you are a vampire. You did try to tell him on his first day here that food is not substantial for you, but he had politely interrupted you with a “I insist, Madam. Please go rest, the food will be ready in a moment” and even guided you to the living room, by gently pushing on your lower back with his large, rough hand. You were too flustered by the gesture to continue arguing.

Your second attempt was during dinner. You thought about striking when he would go sit down after putting both plates on the table, but, much to your dismay, after that, he remained standing beside you instead. Confused, you looked up (realllllly up. How tall was this guy??) and found him nervously watching you. You were weak to his puppy look. You took a bite: “Hm! It is really good”. A smile broke on his face, his eyes turning into tiny crescent moons. “I am glad you think so, Madam! Please let me know if you have any special requests. I want to properly take care of you”, he enthusiastically, albeit a bit sheepishly, replied. Ugh, his expressions, his demeanor…way too cute. New hobby acquired: eating human food.

~His Favorite Dinner (?) with You~

Yandere!Chef, who you rarely see with a frown, who usually wears that soft and kind smile of his, looks rather uneasy today, some would say even depressed. The truth is: he can’t stand his body. Seeing it in the mirror this morning completely killed his mood. He was not aware of it before, as the change was gradual; however, it seems like he gained weight while working here as your personal chef. A number of his big, hard-earned muscles from years of underground fighting, like his pecs, his abdomen and his butt glutes, currently have a squish to the touch. They aren’t purely solid anymore. His form strayed from bulky to a bit more beefy. 

Why is that a problem? Well, ladies don’t find this attractive. At least, the ones from his village didn’t. He had witnessed it before. Had he stayed there, he would have been the subject of their disapproving and disgusted stares. Even among the regular folks, chubbiness was written off as being lazy and unreliable. You are too kind to think or do something like that, but he doesn't want your politeness, he doesn't want your open-mindedness, he wants your love. 

Lost in thoughts of new workout routines, he doesn’t notice his cut finger until blood starts to drip onto the vegetables. Ah…if he had dog ears, they would have flopped on his head. He already ruined his body, he doesn't need to ruin your dinner too. 

Turning around, it would appear that the person on his mind is right behind him. 

“M-madam! How did you get ther-", which is a very valid question; prior to this, there were no sounds owned by your footsteps nor by the kitchen’s door opening and closing. Yet, instead of answering, you just abruptly…grab his wrist and…put his finger in your mouth? At the contact, the broad-shouldered man makes a little noise. You don’t mind him as you begin to suck the blood out of the injury. 

He is very confused, he doesn't understand why you are doing this. The feel of your tongue on his skin, how you both are standing so intimately close to each other; it doesn’t favor his thinking either. It is actually making him lightheaded. Like is this sensation akin to pleasure that keeps building up the more this situation goes on. He lets out another whimper when your hand slides under his shirt to squeeze at the small fat of his stomach. 

As this snaps him out of his haze, he begins to weakly plead instead, without real conviction, to let go of his hand; he doesn’t want you to get sick. He could easily overpower you, but he can’t get his body to stop trembling. All he can do is bring a shaky hand to his mouth to muffle the sounds that keep spilling out since the feeling from earlier is now more intense, more delightful.   

Before this could escalate, you finally release his finger with a pop. You look up and find your poor chef completely flushed, his eyes unfocused, taking heavy breaths.   

Guess you owe him an explanation, huh?  

~H̶̝̿i̸̭̓s̴͉̿ ̷͉͑b̴̒͜e̶͊ͅs̴̠͋t̶̮͆ ̵̡̀d̴̟́ĩ̷̦s̷͛ͅh̶͍͛ ̵̣̃ ~

Yandere!Chef who now feeds you proper food.

“From which animal is this blood from? It tastes exquisite! I never had something like this before”, you excitedly ask him. 

“Oh, you know Madam, just ventured deeper into the forest than usual”, he answers vaguely.

He doesn’t want to worry you by saying it actually belongs to the rude asshole who pushed you the other day. 

Isn’t that sweet?

…

Drink well, darling

[luminatricky]

Vampire? In Gotham! (part 2)

Summary: Danny arrives, sees something Concerning, meets Batman, tries not to fight Batman. Nope not going to rogue it up here, no thank you.

Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Danny Fenton, John Constantine & Danny Fenton

for context, phenes are letters in Ghostwriting, and you can do necromantic magic with them if you know how

As soon as he's within a five mile vicinity of Gotham, Danny has to stop and deeply consider his afterlife decisions.

PhantomMenace: what the FUCK is wrong with this place.

PhantomMenace: John.

PhantomMenace: I know you know how many generational curses are set in the very foundations. And not the abusive cycle kind.

PhantomMenace: who had the goddamn PATIENCE for this

PhantomMenace: who carves THIS MANY phenes into THAT MUCH wet concrete??

PhantomMenace: we'd have to blow up the whole city to unfuck this!!

PhantomMenace: when I find whoever did this I don't know if I'm going to kill them a second time, or make out with them immediately

PhantomMenace: they've clearly ascended to levels of spite I can only dream of, I've to at least respect that

God's Favorite Whore: For my sake I hope you kill them. Gross.

PhantomMenace: 💚

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

Night time in Gotham is beautiful, even without the view of the stars.

Danny finds himself exploring from the rooftops. Old Gothic architecture spins for miles; spidering out from the tallest buildings are gargoyles reminiscent of what he knows of cathedrals. Below him, the city comes alive in a flurry of motion.

The cars slow to a trickle, but foot traffic picks up. Well-dressed people in their 20s hit the bars, swaying and laughing with their friends. Danny takes note with a smile that they're all armed, and at least one person in each group seems to be as sober as a stone. Keeping safe and having fun.

The night workers hit the streets, and little skinny kids of all ages weave in between bodies like leaves in flowing water. Handing off things Danny can't see to the people on the street corners, laughing and joking and pushing each other, never straying too far to allies or the side of the road. Not ever being without at least one other. It's sad to see they have to protect each other like that, but that's life, and it seems they're living it.

Blob ghosts make unseen mischief. There's a second layer of traffic - blobs spinning a foot in the air above everyone else, catching stray emotions and fat and happy off the ambient ectoplasm. Danny's never seen any blob in a color other than radioactive green, but the ones in Gotham are all different shades of red. He wonders if the curses here might be a factor. And if his condenser will be stained red from now on.

Danny spots something strange the longer he looks. He slips off the edge of the building, walking down its side to the alley below. He slips into partial invisibility to not startle anyone not already looking for him, and peaks out the mouth of the alley.

Shades walk down the streets side by side with the human Gothamites. They give the human-looking ghosts a wide berth, but otherwise no one acknowledges them. He tracks the figures with his eyes, hating the blank look in each of them. He's sure that they're not even properly looking at anything. They go through anyone and everything in their paths intangibly. He sees several people shiver and look around confused, before walking off, visibly more tired looking than before.

Danny unclips his condenser from his belt to check if his dinner's ready. He startles a bit at the unfamiliar red, but shrugs. He's hungry. The blobs are having a blast despite how evil the air is. He should be fiiiine.

Taking a deep gulp, Danny returns his attention to the Shades, wary of what this new behavior means. He quickly does a rough count of humans, and then the strange Neverborns in the street. And oh boy. He does not like how the math is mathing.

In a normal, healthy population, there should only be one Shade per fifty humans. In Gotham? It's nearly one to one. He's never seen or heard of this. Danny wonders exactly how many people get mysteriously sick, or die of "natural causes" here.

Once he gets settled in, he'll have to go looking for the cause. Even in a crime ridden big city this isn't normal.

Danny takes another sip as he tears himself away from the mouth of the alley. He becomes fully visible as he steps into the shadows. He means to float up to the rooftops again, but a dull thump behind him has him zipping around on instinct.

Between him and the exit, a broad shouldered man rises from his feet. At first Danny thinks he's covered in shadows, but as his eyes quickly readjust to the level of light, he realizes that the man is just wearing a long dark cloak with a cowl. It covers his head and half his face, with two white beams of light staring impassively at him. It hurts to look at to be honest.

Danny tenses like a springtrap. John never gave him descriptions of any of the rogues, OR the bats. He doesn't know what he's dealing with right now, and he'd really rather not get into a brawl tonight. Humans don't do that to be friendly.

"Where did you get the blood?" The man demands. His voice is obviously modified to be deeper, but Danny thinks it might be naturally growly and inflectionless, as the man's body language or expression doesn't change.

He doesn't really think before he responds. The question throws him, okay? "Uh? Synthesizer?" Danny shakes his condenser some. It's only half full, so it only sloshes thickly against the sides instead of spilling. Suddenly feeling self-conscious about it, Danny caps it and reclips it to his belt.

He extends a hand to shake. "Name's Dante Nightingale. But people call me Danny."

The incredibly rude man doesn't shake his hand, OR introduce himself. All he gets in response is a minute head tilt that in other circumstances he would find adorable.

He rolls his eyes. "This is the part where you introduce yourself. Like a human."

The man grunts in acknowledgement. After an awkward moment, the man extends a (clawed!) hand from under his cape and grips Danny's own. "Batman."

Danny relaxes a smidge. "Nice. Cool. Heard about you and your Fraid. I'm told you're good people. thank you for not being a sentient shadow here to rob me." He lets go of the man's warm glove.

"Fraid?" Batman parrots, vaguely suspicious. Or curious. He's not sure.

"Um. It's like. Well, found family is the default in my culture, so we got a whole word for it. I didn't want to assume blood relations." Danny explains. "You've got a strong grip. Are the claws part of your suit or?" Danny flashes his own claws playfully.

"The suit." Batman says simply. "Why were you watching people from the alley?"

Danny leans back on his heels, clasping his hands behind his back, swaying back and forth. "Just flew in to town, I don't really know my way around yet. So I've been exploring on the rooftops so no one has the bright idea to mug the newbie." Danny stops swaying and folds his arms over his chest with a frown. "Then I noticed something wasn't right. Well. Other than how cursed you guys are. Actually? Might be related."

Batman's headlights narrow in a very convincing glare, so Danny tries to elaborate. "Shades really shouldn't be literally crawling through the streets. The non-physical, non-sentient psychic vampires? Yeah. I don't know if you can see this, but they're walking around in groups besides and through people. Which. They don't group up, and they don't typically go for crowded places. Shades thrive in privacy. They mimic whatever person accidentally made them, and lure loved ones alone. This whole thing is weird and probably not good."

Batman grunts again, head tilting slightly the opposite way. The little bit of silence lets Danny briefly contemplate if Batman is neurodivergent and not actually trying to be a brooding asshole. The older man's tone and facial expressions are flat, he doesn't seem to pick up on social cues, and he favors nonverbal communication. Danny makes a mental note to figure that out later if they ever meet again.

"What can we do?" Batman asks. Danny shrugs. Technically, it's not his problem unless they can't handle it themselves. "Justice League Dark this, I guess. Find me if they can't help. I'll give it the old college try if you ask."

Batman taps the side of his mask where the ear would be underneath. A quiet sound of static fills the alleyway. Batman full-body flinches at the sudden loud sound in his ear. The older man whirls to glare at Danny. The Halfa nearly chokes under the creepy, suddenly hostile gaze of the pinpricks of light.

"What did you do to my coms?" The man full on growls. The cloak is brushed aside as Batman takes out two throwing blades from his (bright yellow?) belt.

Danny's heartbeat races at the prospect of a brawl. Green light fills his vision and starts to cast a strange glow across the alley. His biology reacts, but his mind is screaming at him to put on the brakes. Do not fight the vigilantes! He's not being friendly! Do not the rogue!!

So he puts his hands up in surrender. "Woah woah woah! I can't control this, electronics just fritz around me! Hold on, just, I'll leave and they should be fine? I need to get back to my hotel anyways. Nice meeting you!"

Without waiting for a response Danny turns ghost tail. Which is to say, he turns invisible and flies through the building in the vague direction of said hotel. He flings himself into the soft, soft pillows, and tries to calm his ass down. No. No fighting. He does not need to be put in Arkham on his first day, or whatever.

Elsewhere, the coms crackle back to life.

"-atman?!"

"Oracle." He confirms.

"What happened? The boys are on their way, what's the sitch?"

"There's a vampire in Gotham."

[dinogoofymutated]

Hi can you write something for Logan? I don’t have anything in particular in mind, but I never see this man get any love. Thanks!

NSFW!Wolverine/AFAB! Reader

Hope this is okay! I tried so hard to post it last night but tumblr kept failing on me. It wouldn't even save as a draft! If you see this before I've added the meat to the fic, it's because I'm testing because tumblr is being a dick and I'll edit in the good stuff soon.

Edit: Yay! It worked! I was just uploading too much at once I guess. Had to brake it all down for it to work!

Tw: MNDI!! pnv, fem reader, creampie, size difference, petnames. Praise kink.

If you asked him personally, Logan would say he's extremely unlucky, cursed even. and With everything he's gone through, he might be correct. But still, he is certainly blessed in at least one aspect.

Logan had a really, really nice cock. It wasn't pretty like the perfect ones in porn, but damn, was it nice. It has prominent veins that you couldn't help but spoil every time you your hands (or mouth) on him. He was flushed a deep red color at the stip, and proportional, a good 5 or six comfortable inches.

The only thing is, Logan's cock was thick. impressively, deliciously thick. When the two of you started to take your relationship to the next level, Logan didn't hesitate to warn you. That didn't stop him from Taking care of you though. He'd pump his thick fingers in an out of you, curling and stretching you, finding the most pleasure spots inside of you to get you to cum and cum hard.

But every time the two of you would get close to going further, he'd back out. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable, or that he didn't want to, he just wanted to make sure he didn't hurt you.He'd always end up saying “ ‘next time, sunshine.” Or “Just wanna make sure I take care of you properly.” and although it was sweet, you knew what you could handle, and you were determined to climb this man like a tree.

And if there was anything Logan knew more than anything, it was to never get in the way of a determined woman.

You had spent what felt like hours in Logan's sheets, his fingers curling deep in your cunt, stretching and touching the most sensitive parts of you. He kissed every tender part of you, letting you writhe and moan underneath him. He wanted to make sure that you were ready for him beyond a shadow of a doubt, knowing how stubborn you are when you really want something. This was no different. And after Cumming twice on his fingers, you were sure you could make it work. Logan sighed as you straddled him, grinding his cock against your slick cunt to try and lube him up. He sets his hands on your thighs, comfortingly caressing the plush skin. The two of you gasp when his head brushes against your Clit, an electric shock of pleasure bolting through your bodies. Logan is laid back against the pillows on his bed, looking up at you with a heated gaze.

“ ‘you okay there, doll?” He asks, the words rumbling through his chest with a groan. He smirks just barely as you scoff, adjusting yourself on your knees as you line his cock up with your slit.

“I'm- fine, I can do this.” You huff, grinding down against his thick head. Logan sucks in a breath as you do so, teeth latching onto his lip as we watches you desperately try to take him. He's not going in as easy as you thought he would, and it almost makes you feel discouraged. You were so sure you could take him, and you didn't want to quit now. Your eyebrows furrow as you struggle, and at some point his cock slips out and away from your hole. Logan lets out a grunt as you flinch, mortified.

“Ah- Sorry.” You're doing your best to not let it get to you, but there was such a sinking feeling in your chest. Almost as if he can sense it, Logan reaches up, taking your chin in-between his thumb and index finder and tilting your head down to look at him.

“It's okay.” Logan assures you. “Just relax. You'll get it.” His thumb drags across your lip, calloused hand brushing against your tits as he brings it down to your clit. He circles the nub gently first, then with a tad bit more pressure. You hear him chuckle as you eyes flutter closed, moaning at the pleasurable sensation.

“okay.” You sigh, trying to align himself with you once again. You try it a little slower this time, grinding down with just enough pressure. The both of you gasp when the head of his cock notches against your slit, an improvement from before. Then, almost suddenly, it slides in.

“Fuck.” Logan grunts. His cock was hardly halfway inside, but that didn't stop the moans you let out at the pleasure- and slight discomfort- of having him inside you. The stretch was slightly painful, but you can't seem to stop yourself from grinding against him, trying to take him further.

“Logan…” The whine of his name comes out involuntarily, and the strong man inbetween your thighs shushes you sweetly, adjusting himself so he's sitting against the headboard. He brings you closer to him, snaking his hand around the nape of your neck to bring you into a kiss. He hardly gives himself time to breathe in between kisses. Logan bites your lip, licking into your mouth when you gasp at the painful pinch. He groans when you clench around his length. Still not quite adjusted to what you could fit, and his hand grabs hold onto your thighs and squeezes.

“I know, sweetheart.” He says, finally pulling back. “I know. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere.” You bite your lip, leaning your head on his shoulder as you begin to move your hips again. The process is slow, sinking onto him inch by inch as your body adjusts to the girth, but when you finally feel the base of his cock finally sink into you, you've never felt so accomplished.

“Good girl.” Logan grunts into your ear. “ ‘did such a good job.” You yelp a little as his hips jerk, thrusting up into you. You cry out Logan's name, holding onto his shoulders as he starts to slowly pull out of you, gently thrusting back inside as he cups your face, kissing you gently. It feels good. Like he's rubbing against every spot inside of you perfectly. His slow, loving pace felt good, so, so good. But it could only keep the two of you satisfied for so long. The next time Logan pulls out of you, you slam down with a little more force. He lets out a choked moan, before you hear him chuckle. He pulls away from you just slightly, arms wrapped around your waist as he smirks at the needy look on your face. You're impatient however, and grind against him sharply when he stops moving. A flicker of pleasure flashes across his face before he's growling. He pulls you against him, pressed flush against your body as he begins to thrust more aggressively.

“Couldn't be patient, could you?” He growls. Your noises are embarrassingly loud as he picks up speed, fucking into you just like you had spent so much time imagining he would- and he was right too. You couldn't be patient. He moves his hips just slightly, hitting that one spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars. You can't help but cry out, and without having to even tell him, he's hitting thay spot over and over again without fail. His grunts and groans are starting to get louder, and you can feel the knot in your stomach coming so close to snapping.

“Fuck- Logan!” He groans at the way you say his name, the knot snapping as you reach your peak and cum hard on his cock. He curses, burying his face into your neck as he starts to crumble at the feeling of your warm walls fluttering around him, desperately trying to milk him for what he's worth. He almost lets out a whine as he cums, and the noise surprises you. You can feel him twitch as spurts of his cum warm up your insides. By the time he's done, you're sure he must be leaking out of you. You lay against him, boneless as the two of you pant for air. Logan begins to press gentle kisses against your neck, praising you for how well you did. You sigh, content. Logan lays the two of you down on the bed, holding you close as his cock starts to soften inside of you.

Logan Howlett was definitely blessed.

[mackandcheezy]

Beneath the White Sheets (Young! President! Coriolanus Snow x Reader)

​​A/N: A simple domestic fluff turned slightly sensual hot, slightly crazy, boyfriend who can’t keep his hands to himself. For my lovely anon who just wanted something less depressing than the typical hunger games fic

People are utterly stupid. At least that’s what Coriolanus had been telling himself for the past two hours. Being made president of Panem was everything he had ever wanted and more but he couldn’t stand how much conversation it involved. He could never stand to fraternize with those less intelligent than himself and that seemed fo be all this was comprised of. Though it all was worth it to come home to you. 

You had met in school, what felt like such a long ago. Started as enemies as all good lovers do, competing to mentor the best tribute for the 10th hunger games. Yours had died before even making it to the arena, a fact Coryo never quite let you forget, or the fact that his won. But you were always quick to remind him that he cheated so it didn’t count. The same small frown would appear on his face at the mention of Lucy Gray. 

You knew they had a history, but you also knew that nobody could ever love you the way he did. On a fundamental level she would always resent who he was, how he was raised, his “kind.” You on the other hand knew what it meant to work your way up from the bottom, to have drive and passion. You were one in the same in that way, but you kept him in check, able to dull some of the red that always tinted the edges of his plans. 

The moment he bursted in the door you knew it had been a bad day even before he started ranting. 

“I can’t BELIEVE these people, it’s like they think the world runs on expensive fabrics and tiny foods.” Coryo threw his suit jacket into the corner of the room, the white coat crumpling like a piece of paper. Running a hand through his hair he finally took the time to look at you properly. 

His eyes raked your form, taking in the way your freshly washed locks framed your face. Your eyes were focused on him, that same worried look ever present on your face, it brought a warm flush to his cheeks. Even a year into marriage it never ceased to surprise him that everyday someone could care. That even after seeing him, the real him with skeletons in the closet, you still loved him— still forgave him. That simple fact was enough to make the stress of the day melt from his body. Shoulders dropping just the tiniest bit, jaw coming unclenched for the first time since he’d left at six am that morning. 

He watched as you shuffled out of bed, in that same night dress that was just sheer enough to hint at what was underneath but not enough to satisfy his desires. Your pebbled nipples poking out just enough to make him want to do nothing more than to take one into his mouth and taste the sweet comfort of home. The thought of the taste of your skin already bringing a burning desire to his mind. 

But you could simply fuck anytime, right now was for something more pure. 

You floated across the room and wrapped your hands around his waist, burying your face in his chest, “I missed you.” 

“I missed you too. I should fire everyone and replace them with you instead, you’re more intelligent that all of them combined,” he placed a greedy kiss to your lips before pulling away, “and much sexier too” his hot breath on your lips making you flush. 

You allowed him to change his clothes wordlessly. Basking in the presence of your lover, Coryo doing the same. Your relationship was built on comfortable silence, if something needed to be said it would, but for now all either one of you needed was to feel the other. 

Like a well rehearsed play you both flowed back to the bed, allowing the cool sheets and soft mattress to absorb your bodies until you met in the middle. Coryo wrapped every open limb around you until you were one. With your ear on his chest you listened to his heart beat. The rhythmic thumping grounding you, this was reality, white sheets and curly blonde hair. 

“I’m scared” that statement sent chills through your body. Never had Coryo admitted to something so-- human in all the time you had known him. 

“Do we have something to be scared for?” 

“The thought of this being temporary fleets my mind often these days, that one day I will have nothing to provide to you anymore” The statement broke your heart. Deep down you knew he cared, even if he tried to convince himself he didn’t. Yet her he was the very thought of letting you down was terrifying. 

“I don’t need anything but you,” You felt the held breath ruffle the strands of hair at the top of your head. “You are enough Coriolanus Snow, I promised myself to you because even a poor beggar I would want nothing more in this life than you” 

“I have never wanted anything more than you” The confession surprised you in a sense. You knew you were an important part of the puzzle, but Panem always seemed to come first. 

You allowed yourself to reflect on that as you watched the sun drop below the skyline of the Capitol, a warm orangey-pink engulfing the room. Allowing yourself to relax in the strong embrace of your husband, and give in to the sleep pulling at your eyes.

[roses-and-revolutions]

DP x DC prompt:

Daniel was seething. It's been a year since he left the league and they've already found him. Well, it was his mother who found him. Not that that was any better but at least it wasn't Grandfather.

It also shouldn't have taken him so long to dispose of those soldiers. They weren't even that capable. Far below his level and yet he struggled. He needed to resume his training soon or else he would become rusty.

He cursed himself for getting too comfortable with civilian life. Not that his life was comfortable, far from actually.

He had been adopted by a pair of mad scientist with no concept of lab safety; and for all the intelligence they had, they couldn't fathom how to properly take care of a child, leaving their daughter to take care of herself and now her newly adopted sibling!

He sighed. He was starting to get angry. He couldn't afford to get angry. Especially not at Jazz. She was only two years older than him and was doing her best. She's also the only good thing in his life right now meaning that he had to cherish her, not break her. (He wouldn't be like his brother)

His mind stayed on Jazz for a while before immediately increasing his speed. He really needed to resume his training. How could he be so slack to forget such a possibility! Daniel desperately hoped that his sister Jazz was okay and that they wouldn't dare.

Entering through his bedroom window he rushed straight to Jazz's bedroom. It was open. She wasn't there.

Daniel started to panic when he heard a muffed scream coming from downstairs. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he rushed down the stairs and into the kitchen.

In all honesty Daniel expected the worse. To see his sister Jazz dead on the floor, thick red gushing from her neck, the scent of blood in the air. And there was blood, it just wasn't her's.

Daniel always prided himself on having a vivid imagination. It was a great way to escape after an especially hard training session with his brother. But he would have never imagined this.

In the small, laughably suburban kitchen of the Fenton household was a sight to behold. In the air were two mangled bodies, unidentifiable if not for the league's emblem still visible on one of them. And on the wall was a splatter, a rather big one. It wasn't blood. It was too dark to be. But whatever it was was very unlucky.

In the center of the kitchen was Jazz. Her arms were outstretched, burning sigils rotating at the end of each palm. Her eyes glowed a bright icy blue.

Upon noticing him everything stopped. She looked fearful. Tears threatening to come forth.

"Wait I can explain, just don't tell mom or dad! Please!"

Daniel, still a bit shocked but not as much, simply walked into the kitchen towards the cupboard. Taking out a clean towel he unsheathed he sword and began to clean it.

He looked over his shoulder towards Jazz. She didn't look as scared but her eyes still held some fear. So he spoke, making sure the still bloody sword was in veiw.

"I won't tell if you don't." He flashed a grin his tiny fangs peaking out.

Jazz sighed as in the weight of the world was lifted off of her. She looked at him and smiled.

"Mom and Dad aren't going to be back for a while. Wanna help me clean up?"

[mysadcorner]

Would I be allowed to request Wally west and Jason Todd Dating reader who is always tired/very sleep deprived

Like always stays up, always has messy hair/bed head, usually in her PJ'S, drinks coffee to try to wake herself up ect

Jason Todd/Wally West x Tired!Reader Headcanons

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- Credit to the images owners - Please be specific about characters wanted and read the request rules -

Masterlist Navigation

Jason

• Jason’s usually up late at night, so if you’re awake in the late hours of the night or early morning when others usually aren’t he wouldn’t mind staying up with you. He knows it’s a bad habit for himself, so once he notices how often you’re up late then he might bring it up to you once he notices any trouble it’s causing you.

• Of course he wants you to sleep more, but with this he’s a bit of a hypocrite. He can’t expect you to sleep more when he isn’t doing it either. But most of the time this doesn’t matter to him, he has quite a lot of double standards when it comes to others looking after themselves.

• Jason can nah a lot when he wants to be, although it may come across as him being snap or controlling when he’s telling you what to do. He’s going to be a bit more demanding when he tells you to go to bed or to greet a better routine after not doing it yourself for a long time.

• There may be times that he literally drags you to bed when he sees how tired you’ve been over the span of a few days or noticing that it’s starting to impact your behaviour. If it starts to impact any plans you may have together it will make him even more frustrated. If you don’t sort it out yourself, expect him to take a direct approach to it.

• He might even start setting a bed time for you, physically dragging you off to bed to force you to get into a routine. Even if you don’t sleep it’s still better to herself into the habit of certain behaviour. If this doesn’t work he’ll make sure you’re up extremely early in the morning so you’re exhausted by the end of the day and eventually crash when normal people would go to sleep.

Wally

• Wally likes his cozy nights in, but once he notices that you’re sheets in that state of tiredness and lying around due to how exhausted you are then he will be a bit pushy about you getting more sleep. He’s got a lot of energy, so he needs someone who can at least keep up with him mentally which won’t work if you can’t even concentrate properly.

• Wally doesn't mind if you stay up all night, even if you aren't really doing much together. And since he's up all night doing his 'vigilante stuff' and just because he's out during the day too doesn't mean he isn't up at ridiculous hours of the night, it's nice to know that someone would still be awake to keep him company by the time he's done.

• He always nags, but no matter how much he does it he's still never that serious about it. He tries his best to keep everything lighthearted, but will encourage you to do things without outwardly showing you how worried he is about your continuous habit.

• He’ll try his best to intervene, but his methods don’t always work, especially when it comes to low energy levels. He’s hoping he can tire you out completely by the end of the day to the point of shutting down so that you can actually go to bed at a decent time.

• Wally needs someone who can keep up with him a lot of the time, and your constant tiredness isn’t really making the relationship between you both work as well as it could. But he’ll try his best to adapt as much as he can whilst also pushing you towards a healthier way of living and a better sleep schedule, whether that be from something like insomnia or your body being too accustomed to a constant supply of caffeine.

[foolinafable]

It's for the best .ೃ࿐

Keith Kogane x Fem!Reader Synopsis: locked in a cell, the white paladin remembers her happier times and hopes that she can make it back to a certain black paladin. Word count: 3.7K Tags: slight angst, flashbacks, mentions of torture but not graphic, set tentatively around season 4 Notes: Apparently, vld is having a resurgence so send in some requests!

You knew it was for the best. Sat cross-legged in the confines of your cell with a small smile on your lips, contented, knowing that you have done everything you could, that this wasn't in vain- rather it was what was supposed to happen. For the betterment of the entire universe, sometimes sacrifices need to be made. You remember telling Keith something similar during one of his many brooding moments. Now wishing that you could remember which conversation it was or maybe just that you had paid more attention to your time together, especially now you didn’t think you would ever see the boy with the mullet again. 

You were sat next to Hunk, the pair of you looking up giddily at Takashi Shirogane, the famed astro explorer. He was speaking to the class about his recent accomplishment as he had just broken the record for the fastest orbital velocity. Everyone had tried the flight simulator and despite not being able to get passed level 3- like the rest of the class you were still excited by the prospect of meeting the youngest pilot to ever lead a mission in space. Even more happy that you had done better than James Griffin in the simulator- as he never stopped going on about his good grades and how much better he is. So to wipe that smirk off his face made it all worth it. As you and Hunk were fangirling in the corner you heard Griffins whining causing your attention to go back to the simulator, where apparently one more person was having a go. The pair of you walked towards the commotion as the annoyed brunette sounded out “No way! Keith made it past level five?! Thing's got to be broken.” That was the first moment you saw him, well properly at least. The young boy with a mullet and a ‘disciplinary issue’ if you were to listen to what your teachers told you. He walked away from the training simulator with a grin on his face and you couldn’t help but smile too. Especially when he looked your way as he walked off. 

‘He doesn't even know you're gone’ you muse to yourself, and it’s true. The last you had heard from him was on the other side of a screen during a planning meeting with the Blade surrounded by your teammates, who similarly had yet to know the fate of the white paladin of Voltron. They would soon realise when you don't return through the wormhole and when they find your lion broken and alone. But then it will already be too late, as the galaran ship that held you prisoner was already galaxies away taking you towards inevitable doom. You think you're pathetic, as you are already giving up but what else can you do, your weapon is gone, lion missing,  and you are locked in a cell with only your body inside of it with nobody even knowing where you are- not even you. Worry roots deeply inside of yourself as you think of your friends, a lump in your throat growing at the thought of them discovering that you're gone- they have all lost enough already. You’re sure Lance would try to be enthusiastic, claiming that they found Shiro so they could find you. Still, even he would know the saddening truth that the galarans won’t make the same mistake twice as he tries to hide his tears from Pidge who would be clinging to Hunk, begging him to tell her it’s not true- she only just got her brother back and now she has lost her sister- blood related or not. You knew it would destroy the team if you couldn’t get back to them and what worries you is that you're struggling to see a way that you can.

It was nerve-wracking, waiting to find out who Iverson and the rest of the teachers decided to team you up with for the simulators. It was a big deal, as this was going to be your team for the rest of your time in the Garrison. Last year you couldn’t wait for this moment, but maybe that was because you were certain that the boy with the mullet would be by your side as you were as Shiro put it “the only person that can put up with him” but he left, dropped out without so much of a goodbye, and you could understand, the loss of Shiro, Matt and Sam was difficult for everyone but nobody took it worse than Keith and you suppose it made sense as Shiro was all the boy had. You shook the thoughts of him out of your mind when Iverson finally came into the room, twiddling the rings on your rings on your fingers as you stood near Hunk who looked ghostly pale and going on queasy as you both prayed that the older man would do you both a solid and put you two together. You listened as he called names into groups, feeling somewhat better when Griffin was put in a group that didn't include you. Then your name was called and you were told to stand next to a tall Cuban boy wearing blue, you smiled as you walked up to him and he smiled back seemingly just as nervous as you were, then a smaller boy with round glass and a green jumper joined the group, your eyes squinting when looking at him, almost as if you had seen him before but you couldn’t place where. But before you could question it Hunk's name fell out of Iverson’s lips, you looked up in alarm as you saw Hunk coming towards your group, shocked that your prayers had been answered. The fear that was eating away at you was dulled slightly as he came to stand next to you. Sure it wasn’t the team that you wanted but maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

Being in space has always made your internal clock question how long has passed, but it seems to be worse when alone in this cell. You believe it has been a few days based on the number of trays of food delivered to your cell, the only interaction with another you’ve had this whole time. At least you think, as you find yourself waking up exhausted with pains and aches all over your body, but you have no memory of doing anything or even anyone coming into your cell in the first place. You thought you would've been face to face with Zarkon or his witch by now, but as time passes, you struggle to believe that would happen at all, which causes a pit to develop in your stomach as the unknown of your future begins to dawn on you.

You can still hear the conforming hum of your lion in the back of your head, trying to reassure you that all is well but as the days pass by you begin to believe it less and less simply repeating to yourself that it was for the best.

“Things could’ve been a lot worse” you theorised. Sat with Pidge in this trash heap with your lions completely shut down. At least you were together and there were (up to now) no enemies trying to kill you both. To be honest, you wouldn’t want to be stuck here with anyone else. After Pidge finally revealed to everyone that she was in fact a girl, something you had figured out back in your garrison days, not long after you had become a team and saw the photo of her and Matt taken prior to the Kerberos mission, but you only knew because he had shown it to you first, during one of his many tutoring sessions with you. You liked to think that while Shiro was Keith’s mentor, Matt was yours. A sentiment he very much enjoyed, so much that Pidge later told you that she had already known who you were when she met you. A fact that made your heart swell. Your friendship with Matt was one of the many reasons that Pidge thought of you like a sister and the main reason you looked after her so much- you wanted to look after her for him while he couldn’t and while this mindset got you into many arguments with Keith over putting her safety over your own you wouldn’t change a thing because you knew it was the right thing to do (Also Keith couldn’t really say anything as he constantly put himself in harms way for everyone on the team.) You couldn’t help but feel protective over her as she was the youngest out of your ragtag bunch and was annoyingly the only one you could baby as you were the second youngest of the group as Lance loved to remind you. While being here with Pidge definitely made you feel a little better, you couldn’t help but be relentlessly worried for the rest of the group, as they always found some way to get into trouble- especially Lance and Keith. It was like trouble sought them out, always getting into some sort of issue whether it be with aliens or with each other. So you couldn’t help but double over in laughter when Pidge using her junk-made paladins started an argument between the fake Lance and Keith.  Eventually, you both decided that you had waited around for help long enough and decided to try and find your own way back to the castle. Pidge made you gather together materials to make a home beacon signal in hopes that it could reach the castles of lions to allow them to find you two. No surprise to you Pidge’s brilliance worked its magic as the castle of lions appeared in the sky from a wormhole, the pair of you hugged each other happy knowing that you weren’t going to grow old on a trash pile as you had both dramatically claimed. You two were more than ready to return to the fight against Zarkon to save the universe and hopefully, find Pidge’s family.      

You dream of him, black hair, violet eyes and his grumpy temperament clouding your thoughts as you try to rest. But, when you wake cold and alone in that dark cell you are reminded of the present and how you need to try and stop yourself from dreaming of the past.

Thought it was “just goodbye for now” you bitterly mumbled as you awoke from another dream of him. This time the memory sticks with you- of the goodbye you shared as he left to find himself with the blades, those were the words he uttered to you as you blanketed him in your embrace. That it was temporary, that you two would come back together again and you remember how you smiled through your sadness nodding at his words, believing him truthfully- as you always did. But you are now struggling to believe it anymore and you don't know if you are more mad at him for uttering those words or yourself for trusting them to be true. Up to now, all attempts to contact your lion have failed miserably but you can still hear your lion if you concentrate enough- as though you two are connected to the same string and you pray that it never snaps, clinging onto it like a lifeline.

You were buzzing, tapping your hands against your legs as you bounced on the balls of your feet, waiting for Pidges Lion in the cockpit while the rest of the team looked at you, amused. Lance, clearly feeding off your joyous attitude, ruffled the hair on your head, messing it up slightly. You turned to the boy, pouting as he withdrew his hands, using your own to try to flatten whatever mess he had made as he giggled at your reaction. A smile quickly returned to your face when Pidge stepped out of her lion with a familiar boy following behind her, you ran towards the pair, wrapping your arms around Matt’s shoulders in welcome, your smile only increasing when he hugged back with just as much gusto, you could hear Lance muttering something about someone being jealous if they were here to Hunk and Shiro but you weren’t paying close enough attention to anything he said, instead, you were very happy that the man who you would call a brother was really okay and just like Shiro had survived the Kerberos mission. When the family reunion had ended Pidge introduced Matt to the rest of the group, except for Keith as he was yet again away on some mission with the Blades. You watched amused as Matt’s eyes landed on Allura and something similar to what you see in a romcom played out as he screamed “You are so beautiful!” you struggled to keep the giggles to yourself as you saw Coran turn red in anger, clearly seeing this as an inappropriate way to talk to the princess and finding humour in Lance’s clear jealousy as Hunk made the boy walk away from the group. You decided to do something similar telling Pidge to give Matt a tour of the castle ship as you walked away with Coran and Allura, pulling both the alteans away with your hands.

Calming down an angry altean was albeit harder than you expected, especially when Allura was of no help at all as she was just laughing at how worked up the older man had become, but you understood it was because he felt so protective over her especially since there was no Alfor to help him and she was like Coran’s little girl so nobody would ever be good enough, you whispered just as much to him as Allura was talking to her mice and that seemed to make him less annoyed, knowing that somebody else understood him. It wasn’t until later when gossiping with Allura about your lives before all this, that she mentioned that it wasn’t just Matt’s interaction with her that annoyed Coran but also his interaction with you, claiming that he always got annoyed when others in his eyes tried to “flirt” with you, her or Pidge. However, she quickly noted that he never got annoyed or got Lance and Hunk to intimidate Keith like he did anyone else when it comes to you a comment made your cheeks burn.   

You startle awake to the sound of your cell door being opened, eyes darting towards the light, confused when the door continues to open, eyes squinting from the light now surrounding you for the first time in weeks as you try to identify the body in front of you when a voice gasped out and a familiar voice spoke your name. All worry evaporated from your body as Matt Holt wrapped you in a hug and you knew for the first time in weeks that everything would be okay and that maybe Keith was right- it was just goodbye for now.

You now sat in the control room of the ship you had been captured in surrounded by freedom fighters. After hearing over hacked intercoms about it carrying ‘precious cargo’ for the emperor, they had infiltrated and taken control of the ship.

“And that was me was it?” you mused looking towards the Holt boy to which he cracked a smile sending you a simple nod in response. You had changed into your white and silver spacesuit and your bayard had been retrieved for you. Now more than ready to return home to the castle of lions, to the paladins and to him. 

The first thing you saw, unsurprisingly, as the ship came out of the wormhole was your lion, growling in happiness, bounding towards her paladin only stopping when she was at the front of the ship, eyes locked onto you. You smiled gleefully at your lion feeling your connection stronger than ever, as though the string that attached the you two was unwavering, unbreakable. As soon as the ship reached the castle of lions you were enveloped in the paladin’s embrace, you would’ve fallen over when Pidge launched herself into your arms, legs wrapped around your middle like a koala,  if weren’t for Lance keeping you balanced by surrounding you in a hug from behind. Hunk joined the misfit group of cadets finishing off the group hug similar to how they used to in the Garrison when they, for once, completed the training simulator much to Iverson’s shock. Thoughts of worry could be seen swimming through Shiro’s eyes as you caught them when looking up, he nodded at you, the tension flinging off him like water down a hill as you turned back to your family holding Pidge and Lance by the backs of their heads, smiling and reassuring them that this was real, that you were real as tears dropped from the twos eyes. You could feel Hunk’s laboured breaths, clearly trying to stay strong for the group as the rest were blubbering messes. Walking away from your embrace and towards the freedom fighters with Shiro shaking hands and thanking them for getting you back to them as the trio dropped towards the floor, holding onto each other like it was the last time. 

It was only later when you had changed into your everyday wear, speaking with Allura and Coran holding both of their hands, stroking them gently that the paladins noticed the new scars decorating your arms and some scorch marks adjourned your neck along with bruising that you wouldn’t comment on. Or rather that you couldn’t as you claimed to not remember anything except for the dark room you were kept in and then Matt saving you. Another change was your hair, which had a white streak in it, you simply chuckled at the development turning to Shiro claiming "We match now" causing everyone to laugh and they supposed it fit you well - “As she is the white paladin” Lance claimed.

It was only when Coran transferred your memories temporarily into a crystal that they all saw what you endured on the ship, you were beaten and tortured for answers, electrocuted, burned for sport and tested on by some druids. At that point, they stopped watching as Shiro was looking rather green, probably from remembering his own time with those vile creatures. But you mused that you were lucky as you still had all your limbs and according to Coran who looked at your scan results from the healing pod whatever they were trying on you didn’t work as you were the same as you were before, “except for a few scars and a new hair colour that is” He pondered twiddling his moustache. And he was right of course you didn’t feel any different, maybe a bit more anxious at night and a few more nightmares but who could blame you after being trapped in a dark room for weeks. Of course, the memory loss was slightly concerning but they all believed it to be a coping mechanism to keep you sane and you were glad that you could only properly remember the dark room, that it was all that really haunted you at night and that those things you saw on the screen projected from your mind didn’t and you hoped it stayed that way.

The entire universe that was apart of the coalition let out a sigh of relief when it was revealed by Allura on comms to the members of the alliance that the white paladin of Voltron had been found and returned mostly unharmed.  However, nobody’s relief could be felt greater than that of Keith Kogane who had been fighting with Kolivan for weeks when they received the information of your disappearance and probable capture, he remembers the way his legs nearly gave out from under him when during a meeting with Allura the altean claimed that Voltron couldn’t come to the rescue this time as they were missing a paladin- missing you. He Surprisingly didn’t even need to sneak out on a blade ship to try and find the castle of lions to see if it was true, rather Kolivan who was probably fed up with his moping simply turned to the boy and gave him ship and co-ordinates simply asking him to back in time for the next meeting. The older Galaran didn’t think he'd see the boy move so fast, mumbling annoyed about how much more work would get done if he did. 

You didn’t hear him on comms asking for Coran to allow him into the cockpit, too busy in the training deck with Shiro and Allura showing them that despite being out of action for a few weeks you were ready to get back out there because as you told them “the galra don’t wait for anyone” and that “this revolution wasn’t going to fight itself.” You didn’t even hear your teammates asking for you to come to the control room over comms, far too busy fighting the training dummies and your comms device left on the side. What you did notice was when you were lifted from behind, a pair of pale arms grabbing you by the waist causing a gasp to erupt from your throat, You spun around ready to attack until your eyes met his, and then your sword dropped to the floor as Keith held you in his arms, staring intensely at you as if you would disappear if he dared to look away for even a second. You quickly returned the embrace, arms circling his back as you threw your head onto his chest, almost unbelieving that he was there, his arms moved, crowding around your head pulling you impossibly closer to his body as he noticed the white strand of hair, his fingers pressed against it confused as he rested his nose atop your head, breathing you in, reminding himself that this was in fact, real and not just one of his sick dreams he has been having since finding out you were gone. 

Being held in his arms made everything real, and you thought that if you had to through everything all over again just to have this moment, in his arms, you would. It was all be for the best if you ended up in his arms at the end of it all.

[thesirencult]

PAC : 1ST KISS WITH YOUR FUTURE LOVE

PILE 1

First of all, let's start with some details I'm getting. Pile 1, this pile might be connected to Pile 2 in a way. Maybe, Pile 1 is you and Pile 2 is your future spouse. I'm getting really pure vibes from one of you. One is more shy and reserved and this could probably be their first kiss. The other one is so caring and thoughtful. They are paralyzed by the other person's beauty and sweetness and they are trying to create a calm environment for the other person to open up.

This is my pile that could be for a same sex relationship, particularly for two beautiful ladies out there.

Now, the KISS! I'm getting a very specific scenario. At first, you two are in a room or place with other people. This could be a house party, a wedding reception, a club or another "noisy" event. You will be friends or in the beginning stages of dating/courting. This person may even bring you in as their plus one and look forward to have you meeting their friends and family. On the other hand you are feeling a bit out of element.

This person will find you absolutely stunning. I'm seeing a guy holding out his hand for a girl with a beautiful dress and jewellery, looking like a princess. Even if you are two women, the same still applies.

Your person will understand that you're feeling uncomfortable and that you may need some time alone to recharge. A friend or family member might tell them to approach you more romantically. They will whisk you away and when you two are finally alone, talking alongside eachother or looking at the stars, they will take your hand in theirs, profess their love to you and touch your face/hair.

The kiss will be very tender and soft and I'm getting that you will both be nervous, especially this person, even if they look composed. As soon as they pull away they will be thinking about the day you two will get married, lol !

PILE 2

I'm seeing a clear distinction between a masculine and a feminine energy. The masculine is SMITTEN. They don't know how to act properly around the feminine. They appear calm, coll and collected but the way they touch and caress the feminine, says otherwise. On the other side, the feminine is completely unaware of the effect they have on the masculine. They've never met anyone as interested in them as the masculine and they are also a bit naive when it comes to love.

The masculine will be looking for an opportunity to pounce but it will take them a very long time until both them and the feminine are ready.

The feminine, unaware of their charm, will slightly touch the masculine on the chest or the arm and suddenly the floodgates will open. Every single emotion they held back is coming out full force and they are ready to risk it all.

The masculine may have a fascination with the feminine's hair and the way it falls down their back or they might enjoy touching and kissing the feminine's fingers, especially if the feminine wears rings or has tattoos on their hands. I'm also seeing a fascination with touching certain curves of the body, like the part where the head meets the neck and the small of the back. Little things like these set the masculine OFF.

PILE 3

Pile 3, you are last but not least. Your first kiss with this person will be quite euphoric. This relationship has been thorugh its ups and downs and when you finally reach the next level it will all be worth it.

Both you and your future lover are people who have not lived a passionate love story. One of you might be more daring and prone to taking action and they will try to bring the other's wild side out.

The first kiss will emulate just that. A push and pull moment, until the both of you decide to be vulnerable and just let go of rules and expectations.

Kissing will take you to another place, one where everything is possible. This person won't be afraid to show their love to you but you have to keep your heart and mind open when it comes to this connection.

Appearances can fool us and you never know what the heart is holding inside its gates. Take the chance and find out, or else you might miss out on a very big and passionate love story, one for the books.

[exhaslo]

Kinktober Day 1- Mafia! Miguel O'Hara

        In this Universe, it was not just the villains' you had to be afraid of. In every corner of the city of Nueva York, there were members of the mafia. The amount of families that ran different parts of this city were starting to make one lose count. No matter how safe you felt, you weren't. Everyone, including you, knew better than to mess with anyone. It was best to keep your head down and mind your own business. At least you wanted to.

        It was just another ordinary work day for you. The alarm clock was put on snooze more times than you could count, and now you were running late. Hurrying down the street with a poorly prepared sandwich in hand, you begged to make it in time for work. It was a miracle that the clothes you wore even matched properly. Honestly, preparing the night before always sounded like a great idea. It was just a shame you were too tired to do so.

        Right as the signal changed to walk, gunshots were heard. Everybody ran the opposite direction, knowing better than to get anywhere near. Everyone, except you. Your lateness was going to get you either fired or killed. As of right now, being killed sounded better than being fired. At least it did in your mind before you actually ran towards your job in the mist of another gang war. The tears in your sandwich were going to be a grim reminder to wake up earlier tomorrow-if you lived till then.

----------

        Miguel sat in his vehicle, watching his men go at it with the members of the Vulture clan. He had warned them several times to do this inside, but what point was there to talk with idiots? Needing some fresh air, Miguel stepped out of his car. How much longer until the other side gives up? Wanting to reach for his own gun, Miguel heard the cries of a woman. It was an all too familiar sound. He knew of the effect he had on them.

"Oh?" A slight smirk formed against his lips as he watched you run through the middle of a warzone, "Qué idiota. (What a dumbass)" He muttered under his breathe.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I won't be late next time! I'm sorry!" You cried repeatedly as you fell on the ground, holding your head.

        Miguel found you entertaining. He drew his gun and proceeded to make his way over to your trembling body. Luckily, he only had to fire a few times before his foot was near your (h/l) (h/c) hair. With ease, he grabbed your arm and lifted you towards him. Like instinct, you grabbed onto him, apologizing like there was no tomorrow. A smug grin formed against his lips.

"Parece que me encontré con un perro callejero. No puedo dejar a una cosita tan bonita como tú aquí sola. (Looks like I found me a stray. Can't leave a pretty little thing like you out here alone)" He said lowly. Finally, you raised your head,

"I-I'm so sorry. I was just late for work and...and...You have a gun." Your words kept stuttered as your brain finally started to connect the dots, "I swear I didn't see anything! I'm just passing through! I'm so sorry!"

"What's your name?" Miguel asked as he led you to his car.

"(Y/N)" You replied, watching his every move.

        You were terrified. You had almost died and were saved by a mafia member. Now your life was in his large hands. His beautiful red orbs felt like they were staring into your soul. There wasn't even a speck of dust on this man's clothes. He was so tall and seemed to be on another level than the other guys. Perhaps owing your life to him was not so bad after all. He was handsome and honestly, if he asked you to do something, you probably would.

"Te haré un buen uso si te gusta lo que ves. (I'll make good use of you if you like what you see.)" Miguel's smirk only widen. It took you a minute to slap your flustered cheeks and get your head out of the gutter,

"Huh? I'm sorry, I don't understand Spanish." You politely told him, not wanting to anger the man with a gun. Miguel motioned you aside before entering the car as well,

"I asked where you worked. I'll take you there."

"Are you sure? I'm already being a burden to you."

"You'll be paying me back of course," Miguel's eyes pierced yours, "Just do what I say and we'll be even."

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

"Ugh, Qué descuidado. Nunca has estado con un hombre, ¿verdad? (How sloppy. You've never been with a man, have you?)" Miguel hissed as you sucked on his large cock.

        His hand held your head, guiding you down his shaft. Tears threaten to spill as you felt his tip hit the back of your throat. He was far too long and you had no experience doing something like this. Stroking your hands against his cock, you tried your best to please him. He did save your life after all. Swirling your tongue against his tip, you felt him twitch. He hand returned to your head and started to move you on his own. It hurt as he fucked your mouth, but it made you feel hot.

"Swallow." Miguel commanded as he shoved his cock deep into your mouth. It burned and hurt your jaw, but you did as he said, "Good girl."

        You let out a cough, trying to hold your composure. Miguel lifted you up and placed you on his lap. He slid your underwear to the side, sliding a finger inside your wet hole. Moans escaped your throat as you held onto his shoulders. His thick fingers stretched you out better than your own toys. It felt good. With a sudden curl, Miguel had you putty in his arms. Your moans were getting louder as your felt your climax approaching.

"Que guarra. A punto de correrme solo con mi dedo. (How slutty. About to cum with just my finger.)"

        If only you knew what he was saying. It turned you on more just thinking about the naughty things he was calling you. This sexy stranger who saved your life was now about to fuck you in his car. You should be regretting this, but your better judgement was telling you otherwise. Feeling Miguel remove his finger made you mewl in protest. His placed his fingers' in your mouth as he lowered your waist.

        Your eyes widen as you felt him slowly enter your throbbing hole. It was hurting. Your small hands gripped onto Miguel, trembling from the feeling of being stretched out. Instead of slowing down, Miguel held your waist and slammed you down on his cock. Your back arched as you let out a cry from your orgasm. He was so deep inside you. Your body felt so full that it made your brain all fuzzy. This was something knew that you weren't sure if you wanted to stop.

"Already? We still have 20 minutes until we arrive at your work. Don't give up on me now," Miguel told you as he thrusted his hips up.

        Another cry escaped your throat as you felt his tip hit your cervix. Miguel was enjoyed this by the lick of his lips. He demanded that you started moving. That hungry look in his eyes every time you bounced on his cock. You felt like you couldn't get enough. Your legs were shaking as each thrust made your stomach turn. Sloppy moans and cries were all you can come up with as his cock bullied your cunt. This man was going to destroy you. Feeling his hands grip your hips was a sign.

"I'll take over now," Miguel's smirk never faded, "Voy a hacerte mi juguete personal, cariño. No tendrás que preocuparte por llegar tarde al trabajo si tu trabajo es mi polla dentro de ti. (I'm going to make you my personal toy, sweetheart. You won't need to worry about being late to work if your job is my cock inside you.)" He whispered in your ear.

        Whatever he said made your body shiver in delight. Miguel moved you against the car seat, slamming his hips into yours. He held your waist up, enjoying the view. Your lewd expressions were one of a kind. The way your boobs bounced with every thrust and how your body twitched when he pounded you were delightful. He could soak in every fiber of your being. You were his new favorite. Feeling your hole suck him made his smirk widen more.

        He moved your legs above his shoulders, enjoying your cried of pleasure as he ventured further inside you. His cock twitched as he neared his orgasm, wanting you to reach yours first. He leaned down to take a nipple in his mouth while his thumb rubbed your clit. His ears perked up as you called his name out. Your body arched once more as he cam on his dick. Miguel chuckled as he picked up his pace. He groaned lowly, shoving himself as far back as he could, coating your walls white.

"M-Miguel....That...was amazing," You barely breathed out. Miguel fixed his hair before reaching for your cheek,

"We're not done yet. We still have 17 minutes until you reach your job...If you decide to work there anymore when I'm done with you." He chuckled darkly, thrusting his hips into once more. You let out a cry, gripping onto the car seat,

"B-But I have...to ah...w-work for...ah~" Your words fell on deaf ears. Miguel was going to fuck the idea of work out of your brain,

"You got saved by me. Whether you like it or not, you're going to be mine now."

"M-Mig-"

"Not everyone gets a chance to be the leader's pet. Enjoy my cock inside you because I'm not letting you go."

        Only a whimper could escape your lips as Miguel kept bullying his cock inside you. Your legs started to grow numb. All you could feel is Miguel. 

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

"Everyone is dismissed." Miguel spat as he finished his meeting, "Lyla, make sure Peter gets informed on what we discussed. Make sure he gets here on time next time."

"Yes, sir." Lyla said with a chip.

        Once everyone was gone and the door was shut, Miguel moved back slightly. A smirk formed against his lips as he looked down at you. You had been under his desk during the whole meeting, sucking and playing with his cock. Miguel reached out to stroke your hair, enjoying you nuzzle your head into his hand.

"You've gotten better, cariño. How naughty of you to try and distract me while working." He said with a grin. You climbed onto his lip, bringing him in for a kiss,

"At least I was early," You said with a soft whine. Miguel agreed before filling you with his dick, "Mhpm, I-I was going to...hah...ask...if we can, ah, g-go for d-dinner." You whimpered, trembling at his brutal pace. 

"¿Cena? Estoy a punto de llenarte aquí y ahora. (Dinner? I'm about to fill you up right here and now.)" 

"M-Miguel..." You moaned, holding onto him as you felt your high approaching.

        Miguel licked his lips as he watched you melt under his touch. You had been by his side for almost a year now. The family was hesitant to welcome you, but quickly did once they saw how much Miguel enjoyed your company. Needless to say, you never had to worry about being late for work again. Your job was to keep Miguel satisficed, which was a simple task since you lived with him. From dawn to dusk, Miguel used your body to fuel his lust. He liked you far more than anyone before and that was not going to change anytime soon. You belonged to Miguel now and forever.

"Say it again for me." Miguel demanded as he laid you against his desk. You cried softly as he pounded your poor pussy,

"T-Thank you for saving me,"

"Una vez más. (One more time.)"

"A-Ah~ T-Thank y-you for saving me~"

"Good girl."

[ohnoitstbskyen]

I know it would probably bring a lot of hate comments but I am begging you to roast the hazbin character designs because I'd love to have someone properly articulate why they don't work so I could send it to people who won't believe me when I tell them. 🫠 Understandable if you don't want to get into it though.

I don't think there's that much there to roast, honestly?

Those designs are clearly an extremely specific stylistic choice, and because that style is consistent throughout the show, it ultimately feels coherent with itself.

There are trade-offs being made. Because Hazbin's design style is SO stylized and so heavy on decoration and detailing, because it puts a lot of emphasis on costuming, it isn't as good at communicating specific character storytelling as a more grounded style could be (it's kind of the same tradeoff that stuff like Genshin Impact makes).

Like, why does Sir Pentious' hat have an eye and a mouth on it that makes its own expressions? Apparently not for very much reason at all, except that Pentious has a bit of an eyes-motif going on in his design and it was one more place to put an extra eye. And that's a valid criticism of his design, but also the entire show is designed like that, so frankly it would be weirder and more out of place if his design alone didn't have that kind of overelaborate decoration going on.

It does create a situation where I have a hard time "reading" the character designs sometimes. For example, Vox, Alastor and Pentious all wear a similar style of suit with upwards-turned shoulders, butterflies and pinstripes. Now, am I meant to read that as Vox imitating Alastor due to his crippling need to replace and outdo him, and Pentious imitating the style of powerful Overlords because he thinks that possessing their level of power will finally give him relief from his paranoia and self-loathing?

Or is it just a design fixation of the creator who keeps putting their characters in suits because that's just what they like? I can't really be sure, because sometimes design elements are used to intentionally tell stories about how characters relate to themselves, their world and one another, but plenty of other times designs look the way they do Because Of Vibes.

But again, that lack of clarity is clearly an intentional trade-off - and the benefit of that trade-off is a design style that is extremely varied, wild, expressive and memorable. Hazbin Hotel seems like a very easy show to draw fanart of, and a very fun show to draw fanart of. Those designs (especially the hyper-expressive faces) are begging to be the subjects of traumatic headcanons, unbearably cotton-candy soft fluff fantasies and weird, taboo, homoerotic power dynamics. Slaps roof of character design, this bad boy can express so much vicarious emotional intensity.

It's very exuberant, very excited about itself and very self-indulgent, it's a style that prioritizes visual impact and visual interest over readability (something which the animators of the show navigate with real skill, props to them) and individual aesthetics over worldbuilding.

And I don't blame anyone for being turned off by that (I certainly was the first time I started seeing those designs going around), but I would struggle to call the show's designs "bad" when they are clearly achieving exactly what they want to achieve.

I have some criticisms, especially re: how the show treats skinny bodies as an unquestioned, desirable default, and employs fatness as a means of alienating and abjecting the audience. That sucks very badly, and is a serious disappointment, and one of the few places where the show feels like it is being cowardly in its design philosophy. But I don't have it in me to do some kind of Hazbin Hotel Sucks And Here's Why takedown, its problems are not unique or extreme enough to warrant it, at least not as I currently understand them.

[russellsppttemplates]

She fits right in (Oscar Piastri)

You meet Oscar's family back home

Note: english is not my first language. I know I said write based on the order you send them in, but this one got priority for obvious reasons! 🫶

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"How long is the layover?", you asked Oscar as you put your backpack on properly once you took off your cardigan since you felt quite hot, "three hours", he replied, "we can go to the lounge and have some food first, freshen up", he suggested.

"Uuuuhh, freshening up in a public bathroom before I meet your parents in your childhood home, charming - you didn't have to make it so easy for me, Osc", you offered, going up to him so he could lace your hand in his and guide you through the airport.

Even you though you had travelled to see a couple of races from the garage, you had always kept inside Europe so long hail flights like this weren't something you were used to. You felt tired, sweaty, a little bit dirty from touching things everywhere and overall not that great. Still, it was a privilege to feel like this because of the reasons you did.

You found yourselves a table and made your order, Oscar staying there while you freshened up in the bathroom. Baby wipes, deodorant, brushing your teeth and washing your face would have to do for now.

"Do you feel a little more human?", he asked you once you sat back down, kissing his cheek soflty as he forwarded you your iced latte.

"Yes, actually I do", you snickered, taking a sip before speaking again, "are you sure your parents are fine with this whole arrangement?", you wondered.

"They're fine with it, you shouldn't be nervous, they already like you", he reassured. You had met his parents briefly when they travelled to see him race in Silverstone, but with the whole event taking up the schedule, you got to know eachother on a somewhat superficial level. Still, if the first impression was that good, it was a nice start.

"I'm not nervous nervous - at least not in the way I think I'd be, but is probably the jet lag and my body can't afford to have a freak out right now", you joked.

The last flight was spent with you sleeping on Oscar, arm rest up while you were cuddled up to his side, head nuzzled on his neck while he watched something to keep himself entertained and not get lost on his thoughts.

His family's opinion mattered to him and he was nervous to truly hear it. Not because of you - he was sure you were going to do brilliantly, but it wouldn't be the first time in history where seeing things up close, whether it was the lifestyle associated or being faced with what staying in a relationship looked like in the long run, made people leave. His parents had met your briefly before and now you were being introduced to everyone else. Grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, the neighbour he knew growing up. Everyone's eyes would be on you, and so would their opinions.

Rubbing your cheek softly, Oscar coaxed you out of sleep, "we're about to land, gorgeous, you might want to pop your ears", he muttered as you blinked your eyes open, kissing his palm before sitting up straight, doing as he told you before you fixed your hair, "do I look nice enough?", you wondered.

"You always look gorgeous", he assured, kissing your cheek softly.

You boarded off the plane and walked to the customs service, "they're quite quick at this time of year since a lot of people travel foe the race", Oscar explained as you were quickly checked before you walked to baggage claim, getting your suitcases and stopping twice to take photos Oscar's fans asked once they noticed it was him, "we're counting on a good race for you!", they wished as you smiled, handing them the phone back and waving once you walked to the spot Chris said him and Nicole would be waiting for you in the parking lot.

"How was your flight, dears?", Nicole was the first to speak as she embraced her son, followed by Chris.

"It was good, didn't have much turbulence", Oscar said as he saw your mother engulf you in a hug.

"It was nice, yes", you smiled, "very tiring getting to the land down under, I have to admit", you chuckled.

"Oh, that it is! Last time we did it, I felt so dirty I immediately went to the bathroom to shower once we got home", she giggled.

"I might actually do that, if you don't mind - my whole body just feels icky", you admitted, knowing you had arrived at early hours in the morning already and you shouldn't make much noise to the people who wanted to sleep.

"Of course it's fine! C'mon, let's pack the car and head home!", Chris encouraged you as he put the luggage on the car trunk while you got inside the car.

By the time you got home, Nicole encouraged you to head straight for the shower you so much needed while Oscar got something to eat. When you exited the ensuite bathroom, your boyfriend was unpacking his own suitcase.

"If you don't mind, I'll unpack those tomorrow? Or in the morning? What time is it already?", you muttered as he had closed the blinds, leaving the room completely dark with only the bedside lamp on.

"It's fine, love", he smiled, kissing the top of your head, "you smell nice", he chuckled, squeezing your waist softly before he went to have a shower.

Maybe it wasn't the most polite, but this was going to be your room for the next couple of days considering you had flown in early so Oscar could spend as much time as he could with his family, so you undid the bed. The fresh sheets enveloped you as you tied your hair in a messy bun just to get it away from your eyes.

The last thing you remember coherently is Oscar laying next to you, pulling you to cuddle up to him and kissing your forehead sweetly with a "Goodnight, my love".

You woke up a few hours later, looking at your watch and see that it was already past midday and you were in bed, "morning", you heard Oscar's groggy morning voice whisper into your back, littering kisses on your shoulders.

"Hey", you smiled, turning around and seeing his handsome smiley face, "it's the afternoon already", you pointed out.

"It usually is when I wake up after coming back home", he shrugged his shoulders, "my parents are used to it. Also, they said they'd be having lunch at my grandma's, so they're not home - it's probably why it's so quiet".

"Do they want us to meet them there?", you wondered, not wanting to part your boyfriend from his family.

"We can if you don't mind", he added, "you could meet my grandma, too!", he tried to see if you felt comfortable with it.

"Yes! Let me just get ready quickly!", you smiled, pecking his lips and leaving the bed.

"Why so excited?", Oscar asked as you were leaving his parents' house after having something quick to eat and you got your latte.

"You have told me many stories from your grandma and grandma's house is always the best!", you winked at him before you wiggled your brows.

"What do you mean it's always the best?", he quirked a brow.

"Grandma's are the ones who have the best photo collections in the family - C'mon Oscar, it's going to be so fun!", you joined your hands together in a cartoon villain like way, fingertips touching as you made a mischief expression.

"Did Lando set you up for this?", Oscar said as he unlocked the car.

"Yes! The more I get, the more Quadrant hoodies he says he'll get me!", you winked, pulling his arm to the car so he could drive you both to his grandparents' house.

"Can we come in?", Oscar announced as you both walked in through the back door, seeing his parents sat at the table while an older lady was doing something at the kitchen counter.

"Oscar, my love!", she yelled, wiping her hands on the nearest kitchen towell before she threw herself at her grandson, hugging him tightly while you greeted Oscar's parents briefly.

"And this is the young woman who stole Oscar's heart, how are you, sweetheart? You're very welcomed here!", she said, pulling you in for a tight hug immediately.

"I'm Y/N, thank you for welcoming me into your home, it's beautiful", you smiled warmly.

"Have you two had something to eat? I can make you something quickly if you'd like!", she asked and you both shook your head, "I'm good, but thank you".

"I was actually getting ready to make some Lamingtons and some Rum Balls, too. Y/N, has Oscar ever baked them for you?", she mused.

"No, I don't think he has", you looked at him for confirmation as he shook his head, blush erupting on his cheeks, "I would never make them as good as yours!", he defended himself.

"Well, darling, I'm going to make some for you too then!", she smiled.

"I'd love to help if you want a hand, maybe then I'll pester Oscar to make them for me back home", you smiled.

"Oh, good! Let's get started then!", she exclaimed, getting you an apron and guiding you through the recipe.

"You can beat these while I measure the flower", she delegated, "it has to be very fluffy so the sponge is firm enough", she advised as you beat the contents inside the bowl.

"How is that going?", Oscar asked coming up from behind you as you were transferring the batter to the lined tin.

"I need to use the bathroom, dear, but when you finish that, can you put it in the oven and take the other one, please?", she questioned, "this way we'll have a new batch to work with everytime", she smiled before excusing herself.

"How is she really doing with you?", your boyfriend waited for a honest answer.

"It's been really fun, truly! She's been telling me stories about when she was younger and what growing up here was like, she fed me some of those things, those rolled up things", you pointed at the plate on the counter.

"Those are rum balls! Love, you don't even like rum!", he pinched your cheek before you out the tray in the oven.

"I wasn't going to break her heart and tell her no, and they're not that bad! Just not my favourite things ever!", you reasoned with him, wiping your hands on the kitchen towell, "but it's been good, she's very lovely - and I am this close at getting to your baby stories", you pinched your thumb and poster finger together.

"You're impossible", he chuckled, stealing a kiss from your lips before his grandma got back.

"She's a lovely girl, Oscar", his mother said as she sat down next to him on the chair on the decking outside as they saw his father gather the supplies for a barbecue. His grandmother suggested and afternoon barbecue for when you were done with baking.

"I'm very happy I brought her home to meet everyone", Oscar smiled, "she's really one of a kind".

"Is she dealing well with all of this? I'm sure she's not used to it", Nicole wondered, "people taking pictures, interrupting your day to day lives, you're not always there for her", she trailed off.

"Well, neither am I, right?", Oscar chuckled, "I think she's been doing well, we speak about it every now and again to check and make sure we're both well with all of it. We don't post eachother much, that's been helpful, and she has all her social media private".

"It's nice, she's an incredible young woman, and you two are so great together", Nicole complimented.

"I think I was more nervous to come out here than her, to be honest", Oscar said, prompting his mother to raise her eyebrows, "not because of her! I was nervous because she's the first person I've brought home - like, home home - and I didn't know how you would react with her being here and everything. It's not like it's a dinner and she can run away or leave for her own place if she feels uncomfortable or if you guys didn't like her", he trailed off the last part.

His family's opinion mattered to him, and as romantic as it often sounded in movies, he wasn't sure how he would proceed if his family strongly felt against your relationship.

"Well, on our end, we're fine", his mother nudged his shoulder, "she's so lovely, Oscar, you would be a fool if you let her get away from you. She's smart, caring, loving - she fits quite well with grandma", she pointed to you two with her eyes as the older lady taught you how to dip the cake in the chocolate and then the coconut, laughing together as you seemed to get more on your hands than on the actual sweet food, "she loves you dearly, I can tell. Of course we approve. But, if she wants to make a run for it, well - that's going to be a little bit tricky at the very least", she joked as she saw her mother help you with a kitchen towell, "though that doesn't look like it's going to be anytime soon".

You fit right in with his family and he couldn't be happier.

[niteskysx]

ghostface nac x reader

Warnings: psychological manipulation, stalking, established relationship ig?

(I wrote this in between appointments over the course of several months… haven't even properly edited this thing, idk how to feel about it. lmk 😭 also, it's not smutty at all, just a collection of drabbles filled with tension, I guess? sjdkejd)

The sound of your frantic breathing filled the quiet of your darkened living room. You pressed yourself against the wall, heart pounding as you clutched a lamp, your last line of defense.

Somewhere in the shadows, you could hear his boots against the floorboards. Slow. Deliberate. He was in no hurry. “I know you’re here,” his voice called out, low and taunting. “Come on out, sweetheart. We both know how this ends.” Tears blurred your vision as you pressed a trembling hand to your mouth, trying to muffle your cries. You’d seen his face—or at least his mask—at the scene of the crime. You’d been at the wrong place at the wrong time, and now he was here to silence you for good. A floorboard creaked nearby. You tried to bolt as fast as possible- “Ah, there she is!” he called out, his tone almost playful as he pursued you.

You ran blindly, crashing into furniture and stumbling in the dark until you reached the hallway. Just as you turned to glance behind you, his hand shot out, gripping your arm. You screamed, wrenching yourself free and stumbling backward, only to trip over a rug and fall to the floor.

You scrambled back against the wall, your knees tucked to your chest as he approached, his knife glinting in the faint light.

The sounds of your sobs filled the room, each breath a desperate gasp as you pressed yourself further into the wall.

The knife was still in his hand, but his posture had changed—no longer looming over you with the intent to kill, but kneeling down to your level, something softer in his eyes, though it remained guarded.

"Please," you gasped between sobs, your hands clutching the fabric of your shirt. "I don’t want to die. Please.”

But something shifted in him. His grip on the knife loosened, and he took a slow step back. For a moment, he simply stared at you, your tears streaking your cheeks, your body trembling like a frightened, frigid ittle thing...

Without a word, he reached up and removed the mask.

Your breath hitched.

He was too handsome to be a killer. His hair was a messy brown. His skin glowed faintly in the dim light, and his eyes—dark, intense—scanned your face with an expression you couldn’t read. He smelled of cologne and sweat, a mixture of danger and something oddly intoxicating.

He crouched down to your level, his hand lowering the knife to the ground, leaving it forgotten on the floor. “Hey,” he murmured, his voice soft now, almost tender. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Your chest heaved as you stared at him, confused and terrified. What was happening?

His eyes stayed fixed on you, his movements slow and deliberate as he leaned closer. You flinched, but he didn’t stop. Instead, he reached out, one hand softly grazing your cheek, wiping away a tear as he whispered, "Hey... it’s okay... it’s okay."

Your lips quivered as you tried to speak, but no sound came out.

“Shh,” he whispered, his thumb tracing your jawline, making you shiver. “It’s okay.”  You froze, unsure of what to do. His other hand’s thumb, almost without thinking, traced upon your top and bottom lip.

You didn’t move, your mind spinning as his face inched closer to yours. His breath ghosted over your lips, and you instinctively turned your head slightly, but his hand on your cheek kept you in place. He didn’t want to hurt you, not like this– not anymore. But why? 

“Hey,” he murmured again, his voice so soft now it almost broke you. “Look at me.”

Against your better judgment, you did.

 

“See?” he whispered, his lips barely a breath away from yours. “It’s okay… it’s okay.” He kept repeating it, over and over, like a mantra, as his thumb traced your lips more insistently, his touch growing more desperate and intimate.

You stared up at him, wide-eyed, confused, and fearful. Your voice trembled as you managed to force the words out.

"Wha—what are you doing?" your breath hitched, the confusion still heavy in your voice.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his eyes drifted down to your lips once again, and his hand slowly slid from your cheek to your jaw, fingers gently cupping your face.

Then, without warning, he leaned in closer, his lips brushed against yours in a hesitant, slow motion. You froze, your breath catching in your throat as his lips pressed more firmly against yours. He kissed you deeper then, a rush of heat flooding his chest as his tongue slipped past your lips. You gasped, a sharp sound escaping as you instinctively tensed at the sensation. The kiss, rough and hungry, was a sharp contrast to the gentleness he had shown moments before. He could feel your surprise to the kiss; the way your body stiffened, but he didn’t stop— his hands began moving to your neck, holding you in place as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with an intensity that startled even him.

The warmth of your breath mingled with his… The feel of your heartbeat against his chest as you let out a soft, surprised gasp before the kiss consumed you. The frantic beating of your heart mirrored his own, but he couldn’t bring himself to pull away, not when he was so consumed by the moment.

And in that brief moment, everything else- your fear, the trembling… the knife that was once in his hand—seemed to vanish entirely.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

It had been days since he first broke into your apartment. Weeks, actually. Ever since that night, he had been showing up uninvited—always late, always in his usual Ghostface attire. Sometimes just to watch a movie, raid your kitchen, or talk. Other times… to do other things. 

The guilt was suffocating, growing heavier with each passing day. This had gone on for too long now. You had to tell someone. That the Ghostface killer—the masked murderer terrorizing the city—was your secret late-night rendezvous. And worse? You didn’t even know his real name!

So, you made a decision. If you couldn’t stop him, if you couldn’t stop yourself, then you could at least try to make sense of it all. Therapy was supposed to help with that, right? Surely, someone would understand.

You clutched your bag tightly as you entered the waiting room, nerves already frayed. This was supposed to be your safe space, the one place where you could untangle the chaos in your mind—especially after him.

But then, as if the universe itself was mocking you, he walked out of the office.

“Thanks, Dr. Goldman. I’ve never felt better!” he said, flashing an exaggerated grin, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Your heart plummeted. No. No, this couldn’t be happening.

There he was, standing in the doorway, hands shoved casually into the pockets of his maroon leather jacket. When his gaze met yours, his smirk spread like wildfire.

“Well, fancy seeing you here,” he drawled, leaning lazily against the doorframe.

You froze, your entire body going cold.

“What… what are you doing here?” The words slipped out before you could stop them.

“Oh, just taking care of my mental health,” he said smoothly, mock sincerity lacing his tone. “Isn’t that what they say? Therapy is good for the soul.”

Dr. Goldman glanced between the two of you, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Do you two know each other?”

Nick didn’t hesitate. “Of course,” he said with an easy smirk. “We’ve got history, don’t we?”

You shook your head quickly. “No. We don’t.”

His grin widened. “Don’t be shy,” he teased, stepping closer. His voice dipped into something quieter, something meant just for you. “Tell him how close we’ve gotten.”

Your face burned, anger rising in your chest, but somehow, you couldn’t look away from his gaze.

Dr. Goldman cleared his throat. “Well, [Y/N], I’m ready whenever you are.” He stepped away awkwardly, sensing the tension. “I’ll be in my office.”

As soon as Dr. Goldman disappeared, Ghostface—or Nick, as you’d overheard him introduce himself—took a step closer to you, that cocky grin not leaving his face.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here,” he murmured, his tone casual, but his eyes—sharp, knowing—betrayed him. “But then again… I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. After everything, I’d need a therapist too.”

You swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry. “W-what are you doing here? Are you following me?”

He feigned a look of offense before grinning wider. “What, you think I don’t have issues to work out? Come on, sweetheart, even psychos have feelings.” He leaned in slightly, the scent of his cologne—spice and danger—filling your senses. “But don’t worry. I’m cured now.”

Jaw clenched, you turned sharply, making your way toward the office—until you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist.

Gently. Not enough to hurt, but just enough to stop you.

Then, before you could pull away, he leaned in close, breath warm against your ear. His voice was nothing more than a whisper.

“Go ahead,” he murmured. “Tell him all about me.”

Your knees nearly buckled.

But you forced yourself to keep moving, stepping into the office with your entire body trembling.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

You're curled up on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, the soft hum of the TV filling the empty space around you. Your hair is pulled up in a messy bun, a few strands falling loose against your face. The house feels too quiet without your parents here—eerily still, like it's waiting for something. Every small creak of the walls settling makes your stomach tighten, every shadow in the dim light of the screen seems darker, deeper.

You try to shake the feeling, telling yourself it’s just your imagination. But then—

You hear a sound of the back door clicking shut.

Your entire body goes rigid. The kitchen.

Your breath catches in your throat as you strain to listen. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate. The unmistakable rustle of someone moving through your house.

Not again...

“Nice place,” his familiar, cocky voice called out from the kitchen.

Your stomach twists. No. No, no, no. How did he get in?

You shove the blanket off, your heartbeat a frantic hammering in your ears as you rush toward the kitchen. 

There he was, rummaging through the cabinets like he owned the place. His leather jacket hung loosely on his broad shoulders, and his fluffy hair was slightly disheveled. He radiated a casual arrogance that both terrified and infuriated you.

“What are you doing here?” you demand, your voice sharp, desperate to keep steady.

He doesn’t even look at you, instead pulling out a box of cereal, inspecting it like he’s making himself at home. “What does it look like? I’m hungry.”

He was getting under your skin. “You can’t just—just be here. You need to leave!”

Finally, he turns to face you, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Relax, princess. Your parents are out of town, aren’t they? Won’t be back for…what, a week?”

Your breath hitches. “H-how do you know that?”

He shrugged, plucking a banana from the fruit bowl and peeling it. “I know a lot of things.”

“Get out,” you say, forcing even more steel into your voice, but it still shakes.

He takes a slow bite of the banana, leaning casually against the counter. Then, with an easy shrug, he says it—like a dare, like he already knows you won’t.

“Make me.”

You grit your teeth in anger and try to grab the stack of mail he had started flipping through, but he easily holds it out of your reach.

“Oh, no, no,” he says, pulling the envelopes further away. “Say please first.”

Your brows furrow. “What?”

His smirk widens as he leans closer, voice dipping into something low and teasing. “Say… please. Come on, you can do it. Please.”

She hesitated, blinking at him in disbelief.

“Come on,” he coaxed, holding the mail just out of reach. “It’s not that hard. ‘Please, mister terrifying murderer who broke into my house, stop opening my mail.’”

Your face burns as you mutter, “Please.”

“What was that?” He cups a hand to his ear, leaning in mockingly.

“Please!” you say louder, your voice shaking with anger and humiliation.

“Ah, there you go!” He hands you the mail, but not before brushing his fingers against yours just long enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“Now,” he says, tone shifting from playful to something sharper, more curious. “What is it about you?”

Your pulse quickens. “What are you talking about?”

He sets the banana down and turns toward you fully, “You. What’s so special about you?”

You step back, bumping into the counter as he stalks closer.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he says, tilting his head like he’s studying you. “I don’t let people go. Ever. So what is it? What, you got some deep, tragic childhood trauma? Mommy didn’t love you? Daddy wasn’t around? There’s got to be something, right?”

You swallow hard, shaking your head. “What? N-no. Th-there’s nothing—”

“Or,” he interrupts, leaning in so your faces are inches apart, “is it just because I’m a guy? Because, yeah, I’ve got my moments, but this?” He gestures between you. “This isn’t me. I don’t do this. I don’t let people go. So what the hell is it? Hmm?”

His eyes flick down to your lips briefly before he steps back with a frustrated laugh, running a hand through his hair. “God, you’re such a headache.”

And just like that, he turns back to the cabinets, rifling through them like nothing had happened.

tags aka my lovelies: @lalavenderangel @violetidk @nicholaschavezslut69 @blackynsupremacy @motherismotheringggg @hoffmansgirl @greengoblinswifey @emluvsuxo @iamsebastiansstan @thekhloediary @blog-o-meter

[xeeljii]

V

Thanks for the letter! -`♡´-

────୨ৎ────

ᯓᡣ𐭩 V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

CW: 18+, f! reader

Deep groans escape his lips as he pounds into you, praise tumbling from his mouth with each thrust, he is so loud the neighbors are going to complain again but he is hitting so deep inside you any thought that isn’t trying to get him deeper gets thrown to the back of your mind. Joost holds your hips tightly, his chest feels sticky with sweat against your back every time you collide, he kisses insistently at your shoulder, at your throat, right behind your ear, anywhere he can reach. 

“Fuck!” His voice is so deep it reverberates through your body all the ways down to your cunt.  A hand moves to press you closer to him, big palm splayed right on your sternum your heart beating fast under his touch. “So fucking good liefde.” Each word punctuated with a thrust as you mewl wildly under him, the sweetest noises leaving your mouth in desperate plea for your release. He distantly wonder if you would let him at least do a voice recording for when he is away on tour, he tucks the idea away to ask later with his big puppy eyes. 

“So close.” You warn, the words are heavy in your mouth almost drowning you. He nods against your hair and snakes his hand around your hip to help you. Your hands hold onto the island in the kitchen, at this point there is not a square meter of your apartment where he hasn’t had you. 

“Schat!” He complains again the added stimulation making you clench around him, he is going to snap soon too, you feel him twitching against your walls. 

“Too loud.” You warn with clenched teeth reaching a hand to cover his mouth, but he just chases the touch and plants wet kisses on your knuckles, licks a stripe up your palm and sucks your index and middle finger into his mouth. You moan loudly at that but still you open your mouth again to chastise him. 

“Gross.” The world comes too airy and heavy with lust, no kick at all, he just smiles and keeps moving.

He nuzzles against your ear, drops his voice so low, this one isn’t for the neighbors to hear, just you.

“I can feel your pulse through your pussy.” He says it like it is a secret, his beautiful secret he is sharing with you. 

“Joost!” You scream properly this time, so lost on pleasure you forget where you are and your earlier complains about noise levels. Electricity is pulsing through your core, up your veins and setting your body alight on its way up your spine. He holds you through it, still hand on your clit  rubbing your spasming wetness, milking your orgasm to the last second, feeling you release all over him. Then he follows right behind, always after you, ever the gentleman. 

“I love you.” Again it stumbles so low against your hair, words that are just a whisper but so deafening. 

His voice rings in your ears as you all but collapse onto yourself, weak legs giving out. He rocks you securely against his chest, lets you catch your breath as he catches his, you feel his breath on your tacky skin, his mouth ghosting kisses over the tender skin he just bit when he came. Your hearts beating right against each other it really does feel like you are the only ones in the world. He is everything, everything in the world right here.

When the moment subsides you feel his release and yours trickling from your thighs, hear the noises of the old pipes from the building and the ticking of the clock on the kitchen and realize how late it is, how quiet everything outside is and how loud you just were. 

“I’m gonna get evicted.” You say resigned throwing your head back to rest against his chest, he kisses at your hair line. 

“Sorry.” He mumbles against your sweaty forehead but he doesn't sound regretful at all. 

You turn your head slightly to look at him, you feel him still softening inside you. “The neighbors are gonna kill me.” You try to get your words to sound as annoyed as you should be but you are so blissed out your voice just has a sweet lull to it. 

“Then just move in with me already.” Joost cups your chin and brings you in for a kiss before you can even answer, he is not leaving any room for a negative. 

And truthfully the strongly worded letter that you will get tomorrow is going to be the last push to get you to finally move in with him, too mortified by what the neighbors heard to ever face those people again, plus living with him will be a nice bonus you guess. 

[nyarumie]

hey axia ｡⁠◕⁠‿⁠◕⁠｡

enjoy the start of your semester, before uni gets crazy!! I loved your previous works, so I'll just slip into your inbox while the requests are open:3

What do you think would make Hoshina blush, or like, properly flustered?!

(be it headcanon, scenario, or whatever else you feel like, if anything:))

have a great day 🔆

Heart in Your Hands

hoshina soshiro x reader — fluff, comfort, they're both deeply in love, (god me when), short and sweet, established relationship

Author's Reply: Hi, thank you anon! I hope this work caters well to your request; finally got the time to work on something (which hopefully helps with my writer's block)

Reblogs and likes are appreciated! Please view my pinned and masterlist too (⁠◡⁠ ⁠ω⁠ ⁠◡⁠)

Trying to get Soshiro to blush is definitely rarer than a blue moon. Trust me, even his own platoon of talented rookies tried catching him off-guard — it's just near impossible!

Keyword: Near impossible. That's where you enter the picture.

As a Platoon Leader, you do your best to be a figure of inspiration to your officers, thus keeping up your facade of a strict mentor; but honestly—you’re not fooling anyone, you're totally a softie! Despite your personal ‘no-distractions-during-work’ policy, obvious signs of your feelings for the Vice Captain naturally slip out occasionally. Still, you refuse to get your relationship in the way of your work.

Behind closed doors lie the reserved intimacy and affection you held for him. He won't ever admit it, but he sometimes pushes himself too hard, hard enough to have scars and calluses all over his hands from his intense training, and you can only imagine how tight and desperate his grip is on his personalized close combat weapon.

He’s always desperate to prove his worth, desperate to keep the only thing that gives meaning to his existence, and you know that your words are not enough to quell the distress behind each swing and slash of his blades.

That's why you do what you know will calm him best—love him just as fierce as he swings those blades of his.

You caught him training again one night, exhaustion evident on his form. The adrenaline coursing through his body has yet to be quenched, and you know you have to do your magic to get him to rest.

“Soshiro. You're here again. One more night of this and you’ll really strain your body.” you softly said, concern evident in your voice.

He stopped midway his slash, breath heaving as he turned to face you. “Can't rest easy when the rookie officers are a whole ‘nother level, dear. If I don't do this, I doubt I’ll be able to get even the slightest hit on No. 9.”

Sighing, you made your way to him. “Put your weapon down for a while, please? Let me at least do something for you.”

Doing as you asked, he kept them somewhere safe and curiously stood in front of you again. He gave you an inquisitive look, patiently waiting for what you're planning to do.

You took his hands and caressed them, slowly feeling the roughness and evidence of all the nights he's spent bruising himself up just to get even stronger. You move his hands so that his palms are facing you, his eyes widening at your next move.

He felt a soft, careful kiss touch each of his palms, followed by a kiss to each of his fingertips.

He thinks his ears are on fire with how hot it's burning.

“W-what are ya doing, dear? I haven't cleaned my hands up!”

You entwined your hands with his before he could even pull them away, thinking that he didn't like what you just did. “I’m sorry, did I make you uncomf— Oh.”

Oh, indeed. The sight that greeted you when you turned your face up to see him is… remarkable. You can't believe the Third Division’s Vice Captain would be blushing over his significant other tenderly kissing his rough, tired hands.

“Ya didn't have to do that… I know you love me plenty! And please stop gripping on my hands harder, ya aren't letting me turn away!”

You snort. “Of course I won't let you. This is a rare sight. Still, I didn't know something like that could get you severely flustered.” you said, a hint of pride in your tone.

“Told ya I haven't cleaned ‘em up. I was holdin’ those nasty blades moments ago.”

“Ah, excuses. Just say you liked the kisses more than you expected. I’ll let you off this one time and say it's just out of exhaustion.” you giggled.

Your expression turned soft and serious again, now hugging him. His arms wrapped around you, a tired sigh coming from him. “You do so much for me, ya know that? I thought I was gonna explode earlier. Don't know what I did to deserve ya.”

“Mhm, ‘Shiro. You have no idea how at a loss I am sometimes to do something for you. I want to shoulder at least a piece of your burden, want you to share your pain with me without worrying about whether I can take it. Because I will, just for you. I’ll hold your hand whatever happens and stand side by side with you. All I ask is that you take care of yourself.”

He let out a soft laugh of relief. “I should be sayin’ these things to you. I hope ya know how amazing you are to me.”

You both pulled away from the hug, him taking a hand of yours in his. “Let's get some rest. Don't wanna worry my princess over here.”

Smiling in content, you nod your head at him. “Thank you, Soshiro.”

[bunbitti]

Hello! Could I request a Sunday x halovian reader who has clipped wings? (Can be platonic or romantic)

Clipped.

:))

romantic-ish?

~800 words

tw: do clipped wings on a halovian count as mutilation? Also, Sunday being Sunday the control freak he is and pulling some strings behind your back

You were one of few Halovians that had more than just a halo. There were the Oak siblings, of course, who had both head wings and back wings, but not many others. 

Your wings were clipped. Not that a Halovian could fly (beyond the wings that would need to be massive to carry a person’s weight, the rest of their bodies were similar to a normal human’s, and therefore unfit for aerial movement), but every time you looked down at your wings, you felt a bit trapped. Regardless of whether it was done for ‘medical’ reasons or for anything else, it didn’t change the connotations. 

You weren’t meant to fly on your own, let alone succeed. Always working long hours doing the same thing, no change to your schedule, let alone improvement. Barely any time for yourself after chores, meals, and sleep. 

Your wings were always clipped whenever they molted. Again, again, again. You could never escape from it. You just wanted to give up at this point.

Your wings didn’t look right when in their resting position around your torso. Didn’t feel right, either. Feeling the flat, unnatural edge made you cringe. Even flapping them in the air felt viscerally wrong. You often held your hands near your waist as though to cover them up and pull the attention away from them, even if nobody was actually paying attention. 

That was when you met Sunday. Ever the charismatic Oak Family head, he was sometimes walking around to make sure things in the Land of the Dreams were working properly. 

He’d found you at your job in the Moment of Daybreak, weaving products that would be sold to the wealthiest of customers, all for the support of the Harmonious system that ran Penacony. He’d been passing by, making small-talk and greeting people to see how their jobs were going and if he should make any managerial changes to make their lives easier, but you looked down and noticed his raven-blue back wings neatly wrapped around his torso under his blazer. 

They were clipped. Instinctively, you wrapped your own back wings tighter around yourself, but it only drew his attention. 

His eyes followed your gaze to his own wings, then moved over to yours, which were far more harshly clipped than his own. At least at first glance, his looked relatively normal. Most outsiders didn’t know enough Halovians that had their wings out of their clothes to notice, and either way, his wings looked like a vest on top of his usual turtleneck. 

You missed the flicker of shock and pity in his eyes when he saw your clipped wings. 

In fact, he acted like nothing happened at all, and so you brushed it off. Maybe he hadn’t seen it. But you’d already gotten attached to the man countless levels in the Family hierarchy above you, making up wild stories in your head about how maybe he was also trapped in some way. 

However, you found yourself bumping into him gradually more often, almost so gradually that you hadn’t noticed. Not until you told some friends (were they friends? Or just acquaintances?) for the fifth time in a week that you met Sunday again, and they told you that nobody runs into the Oak Family head that often. 

Huh. 

Oh, well. Maybe he just likes you a bit. 

He invited you to private meals once in a while, under some excuse of wanting to reward members of the Family so they would be motivated to continue supporting the Harmony. Even he knew that a monotonous, exhausting life would eventually wear people out beyond what any motivation could provide. You didn’t need to know that you were the only Family member being ‘rewarded’. 

It was at those times that his wings were out instead of folded tightly around his waist. When he greeted you at the door and guided you inside, one wing would be lightly pressed against your back to usher you in, just as his hand rested on your upper back. 

His wings brushed against yours more times than you could count. Eventually, you were comfortable enough to let your own wings unfold, and returned the gesture. To touch wings, for Halovians, was something reserved only for the closest and dearest to a person. 

It was a while before you noticed you hadn’t been pressured to have your wings clipped, never realizing that it was because of Sunday’s influence. By the next molt, which tended to be very slow for Halovians, your wings were back to their full glory. 

The next time you shared a dinner with Sunday, you decided to be bold and put your wings behind his back to pull him close and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“—!”

— — — — — — — 

You awoke abruptly from a sweet dream that was supposed to last forever. 

There were supposed to be 7 rest days in a week.

The Dreampool is wet. 

You look down at your wings. 

Clipped.