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ohproserpine · 8 months

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iv. dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, jealousy, possessiveness, alastor does not know how to interpret love, or maybe he does, in his own twisted way, roadkill used as a symbolism, gorey descriptions of love, murder the song she sings is 'roxie' from chicago

˚୨୧₊♱

"Hey!" Charlie's voice rang out as she spotted Mimzy making her way towards the hotel entrance. The blonde froze, casting a nervous glance behind her to see the demon princess rapidly approaching with a worried look that she mistook for anger.

With practiced ease, the blonde put on a fake frown, pressing her hand over her chest. "Oh, Charlie! I'm so sorry for the trouble last night, sugar! I'll pay—"

"No, no! I'm not here for that," Charlie waved her hands with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the slump of relief on Mimzy's shoulders. "Are you leaving so soon? The hotel wouldn't mind taking you in!"

Caught off guard by Charlie's unexpected offer, Mimzy grimaced. She hesitated, opening her mouth before shutting it as she struggled to find the right words. "Oh! Well…you see…"

A laughing track, sounding like it was filtered through a radio, echoed through the air, and Mimzy turned to the source to find Alastor towering over her with his signature grin.

"I don't think redemption is quite her style," Alastor's chipper voice rang out. His clawed hand reached for Mimzy’s hair, plucking a feather from her headpiece. In his hands, the pink ornament erupted into flames. "Frankly, I have my doubts she could even be redeemed at all!"

Horrified, Mimzy watched as her feather fell to the floor in ashes, her hand instinctively reaching for the charred remnants.

"Alastor," Charlie glared at him before turning her attention back to Mimzy. "We believe in redemption for everyone. It's not about what you were; it's about what you choose to be now. We'll be here to support you every step of the way."

"Thanks, sugar," Mimzy forced a smile, waving her hand around daintily. She glanced at the entrance with a subtle wish for escape, playing up the nice act while Alastor continued to watch the scene unfold with a cryptic smile. "But radio here is right. I don't really think it's my style. Different strokes for different folks. Plus, I've got a business to run!"

Alastor hummed, twirling his microphone cane around in his hand. The crimson glow of his eyes narrowed at her as he chuckled. "You couldn't possibly mean that wooden box of debauchery you call a club, right?"

"My 'wooden box of debauchery' has more character than any joint in that city," Mimzy grit her teeth together in a smile, barely concealing her frustration.

As another argument began to form, a throat clearing interrupted the flow, capturing Mimzy's attention. A pink glove slowly rose from the couch and Angel Dust pushed himself off the furniture, sitting up with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"If I may~" Angel Dust chimed in. "You saying you, ah, got a bar? I'm always up for checking out new places. Mind if I swing by sometime, tits?"

Mimzy beamed and sent Alastor a smug look, making her way toward Angel Dust. She reached into her chest, pulling out a card with a flourish. "Of course, kitten! Here's all our information. You'll find us in the Vee district. Feel free to swing by anytime. And don't forget to bring a friend!"

Angel Dust took the offered card, a grin forming on his face. "Bring a friend, huh? You got it, toots."

˚୨୧₊♱

The Vee district, designated as the entertainment hub of Pride, was dazzled with bright neon lights and tall towering buildings adorned with blazing billboards. The streets pulsed with life, where every ten steps brought you face-to-face with street performers desperately vying for attention, hoping to catch the eyes of industry scouts. The message was clear – fame was the ticket to success. Performers were everywhere, found in rundown bars, neon nightclubs, and costly theaters catering to the insatiable appetites of the elite.

Mimzy's Lounge, nestled down east on one of the city's worse-off streets was no fancy stage. The building, weathered and worn, seemed to barely hold itself together. The exterior bore the scars of years gone by, with cracked windows, peeling paint, and near-rotting wooden walls. While it may not have been on the standards of the elite, to the poor and downtrodden, it was the best piece of entertainment they could afford.

Inside, the dim lighting of the bar did little to conceal the stains and cracks that adorned the floor and ceiling. Tables and chairs, mismatched, were arranged haphazardly. The air hung heavy with the smell of cheap perfume, wrapping around the audience—a motley crew of lost souls. On the stage, a couple of scantily clad showgirls were performing a dance routine, or at least their movements vaguely resembled one. The quality of the performance didn't seem to matter to the audience, who, hungry for any form of entertainment, welcomed the spectacle with open arms.

Seated discreetly in the back booths, Angel and Cherri had drawn their curtains tight, creating a cocoon of privacy amid the bustling buzz and thumping music in the club.

"…And check this out – Alastor is hitched," Angel Dust spat out the last word as if it were poison. His face caught the warm, bright lights spilling into their booth, slipping through the small gap in the middle of the curtains. He sipped from his drink, a glint in his eyes. "And the owner here's got some serious dirt on his missus or somethin' like that."

"That why you dragged me to this hellhole? Knew it," Cherri snorted, taking a sip of her cocktail, the sweet and tangy flavors doing little to mask the less-than-pleasant ambiance. "Couldn't believe you'd even want to step into a place like this."

"You know I can't resist a bit of gossip, and where else can you find more gossip than in a joint run by a gal who's got the goods on Alastor himself?" Angel grinned, his golden tooth flashing as he reclined in his torn red chair. "Hell. I bet anyone else would do what I'm doin'. I mean, who wouldn't be tearin' these walls down just to catch a glimpse of the Radio Demon's wife?"

Cherri Bomb let out a throaty chuckle. "Well, you're bloody right there."

A sudden blast of music echoed through the air, prompting Angel Dust to scramble out of his seat and poke his head out from behind the curtain. The previous performers stepped off the stage, making way for the upcoming act. He caught sight of a familiar pudgy figure sauntering onto the stage and hastily turned his head back to the booth, meeting Cherri's amused face. "It's startin'!"

“Welcome, all you devils and darlings, to the Dollhouse Lounge!” Mimzy's voice boomed, and the lights gracefully dimmed to focus on her. The hum of conversation dwindled, the audience's attention now on the stage. “It's the moment you've all been waiting for! The last act of the night… Dolly, the living doll!"

With Mimzy's spirited introduction, the claps and cheers crackled in the air. In an instant, the lights plunged into darkness, leaving Angel to flit his gaze across the smoke-hazed stage, hungry for a glimpse of what was to come. Suddenly, a surge of stage lights sliced through the lingering smoke, akin to a celestial burst, revealing your silhouette with a large signage that spelled out your name in bold, red letters.

Wearing a lovely smile, you spread your arms wide, catching everyone's attention as you sang the first note, voice sultry and dripping sweet like honey. "The name on everybody's lips is gonna be Dolly."

"That's his wife?" Cherri gawked behind Angel, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "Are you sure we got the right girl?"

"Hell, I'm just as surprised as you are," Angel shot back, an equally dumfounded look on his face.

"The lady raking in the chips Is gonna be Dolly," your voice echoed, the melody carrying through the lounge as you strolled towards the stage's platform. The rhythmic beat of the music vibrated against the soles of your heels while the spotlight dutifully trailed after you, its gentle glow caressing the curves of your glittery dress, casting glimmers of silver and gold that danced across the dimly lit bar.

"I'm gonna be a celebrity. That means somebody everyone knows," you continued, sauntering around the stage. As you swirled and twirled, your silhouette became a blur of sequins and shimmer. The spotlight then intensified its focus on you, highlighting the glint in your eyes. "They're gonna recognize my eyes. My hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose."

"Fuck," Angel muttered under his breath. As you moved closer to the end of the platform, he could finally get a good look at you.

Shimmery blue eyeshadow graced your lids, while a dark blush adorned the apples of your cheeks, complementing the red lipstick you had on. Your dress, a dazzling ensemble of sequins, was not only radiant but also provocatively low-cut, teasingly revealing a glimpse of your chest before gracefully dropping to your knees. Dark silk stockings, sensually tracing the contours of your legs, were held by garters. At your feet, bedazzled red Mary Janes sparkled like jewels, catching the light with every step you took.

As Angel thought back to his conversation with Mimzy, he found himself agreeing with her earlier comments. You really were a living, breathing doll.

"From just some dumb canni-bal’s wife. I'm gonna be Dolly," you continued, seamlessly weaving your magic, each lyric a spell that bound the audience. "Who says that murder's not an art?"

With a spin, you twirled around the stage, a ditzy grin on your face, the sequins on your gown catching the light like stars. "And who, in case she doesn't hang, can say she started with a bang! Dolly Heart!"

As the final notes of the song echoed through the venue, the room erupted in applause and cheers. But, the curtain wasn't falling yet. Standing backstage, Mimzy let the moment linger, reveling in the prolonged applause. After all, happy customers always tipped generously.

On cue, bills and coins descended like a storm, hitting the floor with a crisp sound that mixed beautifully with the cheers of the delighted audience. There was so much that the shower of currency formed a makeshift carpet beneath your feet.

Angel Dust, still peeking from behind the curtain, wore a smirk of approval. "Not bad, not bad at all," he whispered to Cherri, who nodded in agreement.

Standing on the stage, bathed in the lingering glow of the spotlight, you held your pose, chest heaving up and down. A demure smile graced your lips as soft, appreciative nods and fluttering eyelashes accompanied each gaze you cast toward the audience. Tonight's turnout was impressive, though not unexpected given your agreement to perform one of your most famous songs after a prolonged hiatus.

"Dolly" was a beloved crowd-pleaser and the one song you hated with a passion.

The spotlight continued to shine relentlessly in your eyes, causing a painful burn in your irises. The deafening applause felt like a relentless assault on your senses as each clap echoed loudly in your ears. From the speakers, the music blasted in waves, the volume rattling your bones. Showbusiness, a constant companion in both your living and afterlife, had become an achingly familiar yet tormenting cycle.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Mimzy step up onto the stage to address the crowd. "Thank you, my lovely devils and darlings! Wasn't Dolly simply darling tonight?" she squealed through the mic.

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause once more, the energy in the room reaching a fever pitch. Mimzy basked in the adoration, her grin widening as she soaked in the success and the money. Oh, the money.

"I know you loved that!" she laughed. She leaned into the microphone, her voice turning into a whisper "Of course, you all do. I wrote it."

"Now, let's give our star her rest. Dolly, my dear, take a bow!" Mimzy's voice rang out, signaling the end of the performance. Relieved, you bowed before making your way towards the curtains as the heavy fabrics began to descend. After blowing a few more kisses to the audience, you slipped backstage, letting the smile fade from your face. As you vanished from view behind the curtain, Angel caught the look on your face.

It was a look he knew all too well.

"She looks perfectly happy without him," Cherri remarked with a casual shrug. "I mean, look at 'er. She's the star of the show. You think she left on purpose?"

Angel furrowed his brows, deep in thought. It didn't make no sense to him.

Why would you willingly perform under Mimzy's control when Alastor, with his power, could easily get you out of here? Contract or no contract, that radio freak could tear Mimzy apart like a hot knife through butter.

The spider's attention shifted towards the audience, and his gaze locked onto Mimzy, who was engrossed in conversation with some VIPs. The sight of her triggered a scowl to etch itself onto his features.

"I don't think so. There's more to it," Angel's eyes narrowed, the wheels in his head turning, "I've seen that look before."

"What look?" Cherri raised an eyebrow.

"That trapped look," Angel said, his gaze following Mimzy as she continued her animated conversation, oblivious to the scrutiny. "Before the curtains dropped, I saw it on her."

"Shit, Angie," Cherri's gaze followed Angel's, and she pursed her lips. "You think she's playing the part or really stuck?"

Angel Dust stood up straight, now opening the curtains wide as his eyes never left Mimzy. "I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."

Both of them took their time, patiently waiting until Mimzy stepped away. Once the blonde demon finally made her way backstage, they discreetly followed her lead, slipping behind the curtains with her.

The busy backstage corridor welcomed them with an assortment of items – costumes, props, and stage decor – scattered in chaotic disarray. Angel's eyes wandered around, and he spotted Mimzy in a far corner, sitting atop worn cardboard boxes. Nudging Cherri, he gestured for both of them to move closer.

"Hey~ How's it going, blondie?" Angel purred, leaning against a nearby prop, his tone dripping with a sickly sweet tone. Mimzy looked up, confused before she recognized him and flashed a wide grin.

"Hey, you! You're that spider fella from the hotel!" She tapped her chin in thought narrowing her eyes at him. "Uhm, Angle Dust was it?"

"It's Angel Dust," he corrected, a twitch of annoyance in his eye.

"Uh-hah, that's nice," Mimzy seemed unfazed, continuing to count her money, her legs swinging back and forth absentmindedly. "You like the show? Oh, who am I kidding, of course, you did!"

Angel Dust crossed his arms with a chuckle. "Yeah, about that. That girl, Dolly. She's quite a number, ain't she?"

"Oh, yeah. She's my little masterpiece," Mimzy smirked. "Met her before she had any of this."

"Let's cut the fuckin' crap," Cherri rolled her eyes, tired of dancing around the conversation. The cyclops leaned down to Mimzy's height, scowling into her face and driving her finger into the blonde's chest. "I'll say it straight. What's the deal with her? You got some strings attached?"

Mimzy paused and glanced up at Cherri with an arched eyebrow before turning to Angel and laughing tensely. "Your friend here sure is forward, Ankle! Oh, sweethearts, Dolly's here because she wants to be."

Angel Dust shot Cherri a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. "Yeah?"

"The girl signed a contract willingly," Mimzy explained with a casual shrug. "She gets what she wants, and I get what I want. It's a fair exchange."

Angel's eyes narrowed, his skepticism evident. "Contract? What's in it for her, then? Why willingly perform in this dump when she could easily be the star anywhere else?"

The blonde sent Angel a glare for his dig at her lounge but still answered him. "Dolly owes me something. A little debt she's paying off with her charming performances. A contract might sound sinister, but it's just showbusiness, furs." Mimzy leaned back, folding her arms, her expression daring the two of them challenge her further.

"Bull. She sold you her soul to dance and sing?" Cherri scoffed, taking the challenge.

"No, no, there was no soul exchange involved," Mimzy rolled her eyes. "Just a contract. But still binding, magical, and all of that stuff."

"Now, can you two get out of my hair?" Mimzy huffed, shooing them away with a dismissive wave. "I've got a lot of things to run here!" She returned to counting her money, clearly eager to be rid of the unwanted attention.

"Let's go, Cherri," Angel said with a look of defeat, pushing himself off the prop he had been leaning on.

Once the two of them finally stepped out of the establishment, the spider groaned to himself, now finding himself with more questions than answers.

˚୨୧₊♱

You strolled behind the weighty curtains, the backstage area buzzing with the rush of staff, the shouts of managers, and the lingering presence of performers idly awaiting their cues. Navigating through the organized chaos, you directed your steps towards your private dressing room—a sanctuary away from the glaring spotlight.

You threw the door open, entering quickly and slamming it shut behind you, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the clamor and racket outside. Flicking a light switch, the dim glow of a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed the room's worn-out glamour. A vanity cluttered with makeup, costumes haphazardly thrown on a worn-out sofa, and a cracked mirror that had seen better days—all were familiar sights.

"I would kill for a glass of whiskey," you murmured to yourself, the weariness of the performance settling in. Rolling your head and groaning as you heard a satisfying crack, you added, "or maybe a whole bottle of it."

Kicking off your heels, you let the cool floor cradle your skin, leaving the discarded shoes in a dusty corner to rest. Seated at the vanity, the chaotic world beyond the backstage curtains ceased to exist. The gentle glow of the vanity lights exposed the weariness in your eyes as you wiped away your mascara and dusted off the remnants of glitter from your skin. While removing your earrings, the shimmer of your wedding ring caught your eye.

A frown tugged at your lips, the subtle ache of longing surfacing.

You missed your husband.

With a sigh, you continued removing your earrings before tossing them onto your vanity. Seeking to ease the edge, you reached for a whiskey bottle on a nearby dresser, grabbing a glass and pouring yourself a drink. The golden liquid glimmered in the subdued light as you took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol coursing through you.

"C̵h̶e̸r̷?̷"̸

A static rumble of a radio, like thunder, jolted you mid-drink, causing the liquid to catch in your throat. Coughing and sputtering for a while, you scrambled to collect yourself before turning behind you. Your gaze landed on the desk table where your radio sat. The crackling static continued, accompanied by a familiar voice and distorted sounds.

Alastor.

Grabbing a cloth to wipe yourself, you rushed to the desk and grabbed the old radio in your hands. The radio was a faded, worn red with yellowed dials, and its antennas were visibly broken, held up together with scraps of tape. Your contract with Mimzy did not allow you to meet with Alastor or his shadows for as long as you were under her, but that didn't mean you couldn't communicate with Alastor in other ways.

With trembling hands, you carefully adjusted the dials, aligning them to the familiar frequency that bridged the gap between you two. Your heart thrummed in your chest, head almost dizzy from anticipation. The distorted voices began to clear, and Alastor's distinctive voice cut through the static, a lifeline in the abyss.

"Cher, my dear, are you there?" Back in his room at the hotel, Alastor spoke through his mic, awaiting your response. He was sitting by the large windows, bathed in the dim glow of the Ring of Pride's lights. The hues painted a lovely ambiance against his skin, highlighting the contours of his sharp features as he reclined against a plush couch.

Heavy silence lingered for a while as you felt your throat closing up. Without realizing it, you began crying, your sobs echoing through Alastor's microphone.

"Yes, Al," you choked out between sobs, your hands gripping the surface of the radio tightly, nails scratching against the peeling paint. "I'm here. I missed you."

Alastor listened to your tearful voice through the crackling static, his shoulders tense as his claws clenched against his microphone handle. Your vulnerable confession hung heavily in the air, and he felt a storm stirring within him. Unsure of what to do with these emotions, he could only sit there and listen to you weep.

From the busiest street in Pentagram City to the darkest alleyways, Alastor's reputation as a bloodthirsty killer was infamous, and he reveled in it. The idea that an overlord like him could entertain genuine care for someone sounded preposterous. Throughout his human days and beyond, Alastor never felt such sentiments.

Decades ago, he only needed himself. However, ever since you entered his life, he became a man possessed.

The moment he first laid eyes on you, you were a vision of beauty with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and he couldn't deny that he felt an inkling of fondness for you right from the start. But that was all it ever was—nothing more, nothing less.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he couldn't help but notice that the glow in your smile was brighter, lovelier. And despite his usual tendency to dismiss such details, Alastor couldn't look away. Not anymore.

You held him captive, like a deer frozen in the blinding glare of oncoming headlights. He was aware the collision was imminent, yet it still caught him off guard; A torrent of emotions crashing into him like a speeding truck, leaving him with twisted limbs and cracking bones, antlers torn from his head, fur matted and bloodied, with his heart exposed, beating vulnerably before you.

In the months that followed, Alastor remembered how foreign the feeling to him was. He didn't want to understand it, refused to, but each attempt to rip those festering emotions out of his chest only left him bleeding.

Looking back, Alastor finds himself incapable of fathoming how life was bearable before you entered it. The mere thought of returning to a time when you weren't present is something he refuses to entertain. The person he used to be, before he stepped into that speakeasy, now feels like a distant stranger, a mere shadow of the man he has become with you in his life.

The static in his thoughts subsided, in tandem with your crying and sobbing dying down. A prolonged pause lingered before Alastor interrupted the silence. "Cher, you know I'd bring you out of that wretched place if you just said the word."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you wiped away tears with your trembling fingers. "You tell me that every time we have these calls. Do you not get tired of it?"

"Never," Alastor hummed. The sound of your laughter, even tinged with bitterness, momentarily lifted the heavy burden that his heart carried. "The offer will always be up, darling!"

"You know I can't, Al. Me and her have history together," your voice paused, cracking with emotion. "And I still feel guilty."

Alastor sighed heavily, frustration dancing in his eyes. He always struggled to understand why you felt indebted to Mimzy, why guilt still clung to your decisions like a persistent shadow.

To him, Mimzy deserved the consequences. Despite his constant offers to free you from her grasp, you remained steadfast in your decision to complete your contract

"Very well, dear," Alastor's smooth voice crackled through the radio, weaving a comforting presence into the air as you moved back toward your vanity, taking a seat. "Now, enough of these melancholic talks. Tell me, how was the show tonight?"

"Mimzy had me perform 'Dolly' again," you remarked, a crooked smile playing on your lips. "She's well aware that I despise that song. I mean, really? Have you ever taken a look at the lyrics? It's a bit on the nose, don't you think?"

As your frustrations spilled out, Alastor stood from his seat, staff in hand. Placing it beside his closet, he attentively listened to your words, occasionally responding with chuckles and interjections. He slipped off his monocle, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and then his vest, revealing a well-tailored red undershirt that clung to his lean frame.

"I find the cannibal's wife line rather charming," Alastor smirked, and though he couldn't see it, you rolled your eyes in response.

"Of course you'd enjoy that part," you scoffed, mirroring Alastor's movements on the other side. Shedding the bedazzled dress, you opted for more comfortable attire, draping yourself in a robe.

"What's not to like? It shows the audience that you're my darling wife," Alastor quipped with a smug tone.

"Bushwa. They don't even know it's you. And I don't think anyone thinks highly of some poor fool shackled to a gaudy singer," you snorted. With the radio in tow, you began to pack your belongings into your purse.

"Don't be ridiculous," Alastor's laugh rumbled against the speakers. "My dear, being 'shackled' to you is the most delightful form of imprisonment."

"Such a sap," you scoffed, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your face. Shouldering your purse, you made your way towards the door, ready to leave. However, a sudden memory of a conversation with Mimzy surfaced.

"By the way, did you know Mimzy was planning to have me perform on some talk show?" you shared with Alastor while locking the door to your dressing room. A furrow appeared on your brow as the backstage lights played with shadows, casting a pensive expression on your face. "What was it again… Oh! Yes! Box-2-Nite."

A sudden screech from the radio erupted, its harsh sound reverberating in the hallway. Luckily, no one was around at this hour, and you cringed at the unexpected disturbance. Glaring at the box, you raised your brow. "You scared the living daylights outta me."

Alastor stayed silent for a while, claws digging into the cloth of his coat, ripping the fabric. With a snap of his head to the side, he dropped it to the floor and moved toward his staff, his shadows playing on the intricate patterns of the carpet beneath his feet.

"Do you perhaps mean… Vox-2-Nite?" His voice, usually smooth, carried an edge.

"Is that the name? I thought you hated telev—Oh. Ohhh..." As you ascended to the higher floors of the building, a realization swept over you.

Alastor's relationship with Vox was complicated. It didn't take a genius to see that. If the ceaseless back-and-forths on broadcasts, the turf wars that had casualties matching mass-extinction events, and the hushed gossip circulating among the other performers were anything to go by.

“Small world,” you chuckled, strolling down the hallway that led to the performers' rooms, the echo of your footsteps blending with the distant murmur of conversation. “I’m guessing I shouldn't take her up on the offer?”

"Absolutely not," Alastor practically snarled out, venom dripping from his tongue. The radio in your hand crackled and buffered, a faint golden glow emanating from the dials. "That pompous piece of shit television is nothing but a clout-chasing, mediocre host flitting between this fad and another on his little picture show podcasts."

“I know, love.” With a swift turn of a doorknob, you opened the door to your flat. "I wasn’t… planning… to…”

Your words trailed off, lingering in the air, as you entered the room. Your eyes widened in awe, captivated by the sight of a bouquet of white roses gracefully adorning your bed.

"Alastor," you spoke into the radio, your voice filled with genuine warmth. "Did you send me roses?"

Back in the hotel, Alastor, settled back into his plush couch. The fiery embers of his anger melting away like a fleeting shadow, replaced by the realization that you had discovered his gift.

A soft chuckle came from the radio, "Guilty as charged, cher. "

Your heart fluttered, and you sank onto the bed, dropping the radio on your mattress and taking the bouquet into your hands. The delicate petals felt soft against your fingers as you admired their beauty. White roses, unlike red ones, were so scarce it was difficult to get a hold of.

"Alastor, this is… wonderful," you spoke into the radio, smile so wide your cheeks almost hurt. "Why—How did you even—How did you even manage to find these?"

"Oh, I pulled a few strings," your husband grinned before chuckling, "and a few limbs too."

Your laughter intertwined with his and Alastor listened fondly, finding solace in the melody of your delight.

The day you inked that deal with Mimzy marked the onset of an agonizing pain he had never experienced before. The thought of leaving your sorrowful self under the wretched contract of that avaricious woman had incited a frenzied rage within him, leading to weeks of unbridled slaughters on the streets of hell.

The blood he spilled onto the sidewalks left a stain on the concrete that lasted months.

Fortunately for you and him, the ordeal was nearing its end. Just one more year remained until Alastor could finally reunite with you. After enduring decades of this agony, an additional year seemed like mercy.

"You like it, cher?" Alastor's voice dropped an octave lower, the satisfaction evident in his tone, pleased to bring happiness to your moment.

"Yes," you laugh, cradling the bouquet in your hands. "I like it very much."

˚୨୧₊♱

#calm before the #before the :))#sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel vox

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bi-writes · 9 months

Text

i have brain rot about simon riley and need to write this down somewhere -> thinking about childhood-bestfriend!roommate!ghost x fem!reader

more bestfriend!roommate!simon (part 1/?)

slight nsfw (18+) thoughts ahead...

it's your first day of work at your new job. you took up something at the diner nearby, a 24/7 little place that served greasy eggs and day-old coffee in cracked, porcelain mugs. the floors were sticky, half of the menu was crossed out in scratchy black ink, you had to wear this god-awful uniform, but the pay was decent and the cooks were kind.

the diner had a theme, and that theme meant you were buttoning up a terrible uniform. a red and white striped dress with a frilly white apron wrapped around your waist. it cinched at the waist, the skirt was too short, and the neckline showed off too much cleavage, but you needed the money, so damn the uniform.

your hair was slicked back, showing off your light makeup and red lipstick. you fit the hat over your head and slipped the white sneakers on before grabbing your bag and coming out of your room. "and where are y'going lookin' like that, luv?" you froze, closing your eyes and sighing as you gripped your purse tighter.

"im going to work. im gonna be late." "that right? let me look at ya."

you turned around, opening your eyes. simon was standing there, leaning against the kitchen doorway holding a fresh cuppa. you swallowed hard, trying to be subtle as you looked him up and down. black cargo pants, compression shirt rolled up to his elbows, hood over his dirty blonde locks, a surgical mask covering his pretty face.

he put the mug down and straightened his posture at the sight of you. his dark eyes honed in on your figure in the dress, but he tried to hide the way his pupils dilated at the sight of the low neckline. if he moved just right, he could see the white lace of your lingerie peeking out from just under the lapels.

"bloody christ..." he hissed, clicking his tongue.

"shut up, simon, okay? im gonna be late. i know i look ridiculous, i--"

you gasped a little when you felt warmth against your neck. his palm caressed your jaw, fingers tightening around one side of your face. his hand nearly took it all, your cheek smushed against him as he examined you. his eyes grazed over your long lashes to your soft blush to the red of your pouty lips.

he thought it might look nice on him everywhere else. kiss marks on his neck, his chest, his scars, the inside of his mouth--

"dont look ridiculous," he corrected you. "look like a fuckin' doll."

you sucked in your breath as he smoothed a thumb over your bottom lip, his finger coming back a little pink with your lipstick. so pink, so cute, so adorable, just like your glazed, doe eyes and the sight of your tongue sliding along your teeth. you were holding back a whine, that much was obvious.

"simon..."

his other hand moved up, tracing along the edge of the lapel and just barely skimming over the lace of your bra. you held back a shiver, and you felt a warmth bubbling inside of you when you noticed him lean a little closer, his eyes peeking cheekily down the valley of your breasts.

"you let me know when your shift is over," he murmured, letting you go slowly. he knocked his knuckles under your chin, making you look right into his eyes. "im gonna need to walk you home, luv."

"you don't need to do that--"

"wont be taking no for an answer," he narrowed his eyes. "bloody beasts will eat up a pretty thing in this fuckin' dress."

your lips part slightly, your eyes half-lidded as you wonder what it might be like to push the mask up and lick into his mouth, taste the ash on his tongue and the warmth of his breath.

"beasts like you, simon?"

"aye."

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty

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mermaidgirl30 · 3 months

Text

✨Pulled by the Scarlet Reins✨

Witch Trial! Joel x fem! reader

A/N: I came up with this one-shot idea by listening to “Cassandra” by Taylor Swift! I hope you enjoy, and please give me all your feedback and thoughts 🩵 This one is a bit angsty. No beta readers. Nervous and excited to share this one!

Summary: In the hate filled town of Salem, no one is safe. With accusations flying daily, no one is spared from speculation. When the blame is pointed at you, who will be there to defend you?

Rating: 18+ only MDNI

Word Count: 9.1k

Tags: So much angst, hurt Joel, soft Joel, switching POVs, witch trial au, talk of death, grief, smut, oral receiving (fem), unprotected piv, creampie, protective Joel, yearning, pining, Joel seeks revenge, religious trauma

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The weather is cloudy, the sky full of windblown fire ash as another innocent woman is burned to death. You can smell the flesh rotting, hear the excruciating screams fill the amber colored sky as you mourn the loss of Cassandra.

It happened months ago, but you still hear it. The agonizing pleas as she begged for someone to save her, but she couldn’t be saved, not here. She was the only friend you had in this godforsaken town called Salem. She was your best friend, your soul sister, family.

They’re all gone now. Dead, murdered. Now you have no one. You’re all alone in a town hellbent to burn all the innocents they call witches. And you hate it, despise everything about this evil place. You just want to run far, far away from here. What a dream that would be, to get away from the gut wrenching noise of the town named for murders.

David is the worst of them. The priest of the ungodly church, with his cold blue eyes, a snarl that bites anything he touches, slicked back blonde hair that sets fire to innocent women. He’s a devil disguised as a savior, tricking any man into following him into the depths of despair. You hate the man, hate this fucked up town, but escape is death, too. But what’s worse? Getting mauled by a bear or getting burned to death at the stake? You’d take the bear mauling over all of it.

It’s simple enough. You break the rules, do anything to get noticed by the Protestant men of the town, and you get executed. It doesn’t matter if you plead a case, doesn’t matter if you can prove you’re innocent, doesn’t even fucking matter if you’re a member of the goddamn church. If you do anything any of them don’t like, you get hung or worse, burned.

So now all you have is this little wooden house made by the rough hands of dirty men, men you’d rather not speak about. All you have are memories of Cassandra sharing your space, her essence still swirling around this lonely room as you pace back and forth day after day trying to hold on to memories that once belonged to you. When you had a friend, when you weren’t so alone, but now you were left with the haunted ghosts of this town.

Sometimes they show up at your doorstep when it’s calm and quiet after midnight, spreading their cries of warning to flee the area. But where would you run to? Who would you have? No one. But you don’t have anyone now, so what does it matter? You’re dead either way.

You lull around your house, assessing the various shapes and colors of bottles you hold your collected herbs in, twisting the lids on tightly and lining them up neatly across the tall oak shelf. Green lush vines and pink tulips hang across the wide layout of the large glass window, where the sun kisses their gorgeous leaves and makes them grow and thrive in a state of wonder. This house is your only safe haven. Outside is a blood soaked warzone, filled with snakes and gossips that you’d rather avoid.

You don’t engage with the toxic church in town; you stopped going right after Cassandra was accused and sentenced to death. Nothing could make you go back to those haunted paint covered church pews, listening to the priest that spews venom about anything and everything he can. You’re a prisoner to this town of hatred, mourning losses of fallen friends and family members who you’d never see again. You’d never conform to this, you’d find a way out. Someday, somehow. You’d get the freedom you so desperately seeked.

Just when you start assessing some sprouting lilac petals, the wooden door slams open with a bang, making the entire house quiver under the sudden strike. You jump back, watching the potted lilacs fall to the floor as the ceramic pot smashes to tiny pieces. You feel cold, icy hands push you against the wall, holding you back as you watch the hateful men tear apart the only thing you have left in this sunken town.

“What’s this, hmm? Practicing magic in my town?” David seethes as he holds up a bottle of fresh sage and smashes it to the ground, the glass shattering into tiny pieces like your own heart feels like.

“No, those are my plants!” You scream in horror as he continues to smash each bottle one by one, piece by piece.

“They don’t look like just plants to me, sunshine. Looks to me like you’ve been meddling in the devil’s affairs,” David snarls as he breaks another bottle of lavender.

“No, that’s not it! Please, STOP!” You yell as the men push you back against the covered blue wallpaper. You fight with all your might to break away from their hold, but it’s no use. You have to just stand there in shambles watching your entire life fall apart before your tear soaked eyes.

“Shut up, witch! Bite your tongue, you little devil,” he snarls as he comes over in front of you and fists the front of your dress as you see violent, icy eyes stare into your soul. “Now, you’re going to see what the consequences of being friends with Cassandra are. Following in her footsteps, pathetic! Just watch what happens to witches who don’t pay attention in church.”

He tosses you back against the wall as you watch him slowly destroy your safe little haven. He breaks every single glass bottle in the house, tears apart every vine and flower that sits atop your kitchen counter, flips over granite tables, and destroys everything you ever loved in this space you called home.

You feel completely defeated, your silent screams making you dizzy as you plead for him to stop, crying out until your throat runs dry and wet tears stain your crimson cheeks. You watch him pull apart the last of Cassandra’s things, watch him murder her all over again as he lights a match and sets her golden heart locket necklace ablaze.

“No!” You shout, scream till your throat is completely on fire as you watch him spread the flames to your destroyed treasures.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and drags you out of the house, your white dress snagging on the ground as you become covered in grass stains and dirt, your scalp feeling like it’s about to be pulled off completely as you thrash against his hold.

“Witch!” He screams to the growing crowd as they all gather around to watch the next innocent life be taken from the haunted town, except none of them even offer to help. They just stand silent or yell accusations at you as you sit fragile on the soaked grass, feeling the weight of all the hate crash down on you like you really are guilty. You’re not though, you’re just an innocent girl whose life got ripped in half by a lying devil of a man.

“Burn it down! Destroy it! Kill the witch!” The horrible words come bellowing out of the community’s mouths, feeding David hate as he smirks your way and nods at the men.

“Do it,” he snarls. And they listen, just like they always do. They set your house ablaze, lighting matches and pouring gasoline until you see nothing but orange flames dance across the entirety of your house.

“No, no, NO!” You muster up all your strength and push yourself off the damp ground, planning to make a run towards the crumbling house as it starts to topple from the hot flames of the ignited fire.

“Stay back, witch! We aren’t done with you yet.” One of the men pushes you down, and you feel your palms scrape against the rough ground, feeling blood soak the green grass as your fingernails dig into the cold dirt. You try to get a grip on reality, try to drown out all the screaming chants your way, but it’s no use. They’re echoing all around your mind, stabbing stakes into your body as you feel their filthy nails dig like chalk into your skin, smothering you in hate that you can barely tolerate. Your ears bleed, seep blood as you muster all of your strength to lift your aching head off the dirt covered ground.

You see the hateful snarls of the people, see the way they point accusing fingers and call you witch again and again until your brain starts to fog over like a thick mist. You feel the warm tears spill down your embarrassed cheeks, feel the weight of the world come crashing down on you as they cast you down in shame with scornful threats and vulgar gestures. And you’ve never felt more alone than you do now in this little town of deceitful fools.

You feel the kick of someone’s boot, feel your shoulders being pushed down into a clump of wilting grass as you grunt and lay flat against the hollow earth. You feel as if you’re a tiny insect, its wings being torn off and ripped to shreds as the beautiful monarch butterfly dies in the hands of the vengeful enemies. You’re nothing but a speck of dried up filth now, and that makes you feel so defeated.

With every ounce of energy you have left in your frayed body, you dig your nails into the dirt, grunt out in pain as you lift yourself on your hands and knees, trying to ignore the rustling of burning wood and screams of past ghosts that were burnt in the flames time and time again.

You slowly lift your head, feeling a bit dizzy as the town lifts their semblance of pitchforks and dusty bibles in their hands, shouting angry chants at you to “Burn the witch” as they spit and crowd around you. Every single one of them follows David’s advances, snarling and bellowing death threats your way as you stare hopelessly into the sea of misled bodies. All of them twisting their words and spewing violence your way.

Your teary eyes scan the crowd, looking around for someone, anyone to help you, but there’s no one. No one that’ll take the risk. Your gaze covers the sea, eyelashes drenched in wet tears as your bottom lip quivers in fright. All you see are monsters in front of you, all around you, their claws lashing against your innocent skin as they spill blood over the town of Salem. Not a lick of remorse in their bodies as they continue to take innocent lives again and again. But that’s what they want, what they were taught to do. They never learned it was all a false lore to kill the ones who didn’t obey him. David. A false god on an altar made of death and bones of burnt bodies.

You hear the chants continue, feel the warmth from the bitter flames that took everything from you in an instant as your house sits in ash behind you. You can barely look up, barely keep your fingernails embedded in the soft grass, but you do. You can’t let them break you, even if you are already broken when they took it all away from you. Starting with Cassandra, then your family, then your home, your plants, your precious memories that were tucked away safely in that house. Now you have nothing. So maybe dying won’t be the worst thing because you already died the moment they took it all away from you. Now you’re just a corpse among this godforsaken town. They already burned everything you loved, what was another body in an ashy fire?

Your throat burns, no more tears left inside you as you feel the sting of bloodshot eyes scan the angry crowd again, enduring the weight of hatred sitting on your chest like you’ve been covered in gravel rocks, the heaviness consuming your insides until you can’t breathe, can’t speak. You’re just there, unalive, drowning in hate filled screams.

Your heart slows as you drown out the shouting voices, eyes swarming the sea of people until you see one that stands out amongst the others. In the very back, unmoving, not screaming death threats like the others, not making a sound as he watches with remorse covering the dark shadows of his sorrow filled eyes.

Your eyes grow wide as you stare at him, your gaze finding a safe haven in those flecks of honey colored irises that shine a little light down on you. He’s not like the others, no. He’s gentle, kind, a little rough around the edges, but it’s him that pulls you out of the flames, if only for just a few seconds. Joel Miller. The man that was never like the others.

He may be broken, may be hollow and bruised beneath his broken military watch, a mere ghost dragging his worn leather boots through the dirt just to get by in this miserable town day after day. The entire town may think little of him, may think he’s scum underneath their shiny church shoes, but you never did. No. He was the only thing that kept your head above water. The only light you saw.

He watches you carefully, brows furrowed and arms crossed tightly over his broad chest. His fingers flex, jaw clenching as he looks at you with pain in those flecks of warmth. You feel the sadness and agony reflect in your teary eyes, feel exactly what he must’ve suffered when they took the life of Sarah, his only daughter, his only family, but now she’s gone. Just withered ashes in the blowing wind. And you feel it then as the sorrow takes over those cloudy dark eyes, can see it in the way he holds his tired muscles as he hunches his large shoulders. He wants to help, but he can’t. They’d just pull him by his grey threaded tousled curls and throw him in the grave, bury him alive while he suffocates in the damp dirt that holds the bones of his now dead child.

You feel a leaking teardrop escape one of your glossy eyes, your gaze never leaving his even as some men start to drag you away towards the haunted church. They pull your hair, digging their rough cut nails into your damaged skin as you watch Joel’s brows knit together, the lines mapping out on his forehead as he fists his clenched fingers at his sides.

While everyone else follows to the church, Joel stays behind. His large silhouette fading away when they drag you up the rough staircase and into the dimly lit church, throwing your body into the middle of the pews as they laugh and cast evil remarks your way.

You keep your head down as David reprimands you, tossing you against the dusty white walls while your fingernails rip into the fading paint. There’s nothing you can do or say, they’ve made up their mind. You’ll be burned at dawn the next day. This is it. They might as well give you a noose, let you tie yourself to a tree and end it all. You’d rather it be that way than watch the people you hate burn you alive.

You just face the blood soaked wall, curling your body into a tight ball as they tear you to shreds. You never were meant to be in this town, with these people. You just got unlucky, and now you’d die with the innocent souls of the lives they took day after day. And now you’d burn with them.

Joel watches them take you away, dragging you to the church by your lifeless arms and your long locks of hair. He doesn’t follow, can’t bear the sight of watching another innocent life be thrown into the flames. His fingers flex, jaw clenched into a tight fist as he flares his nostrils. He can’t stand to see you hurting, could barely watch as they took everything from you and burned your house to black ashes. And your face. That beautiful, innocent face he was so captivated by. He can’t even muster the anger that sits in his heavy soul.

You don’t deserve this, any of this. You didn’t do anything wrong, didn’t say a damn thing to draw attention to yourself. It all started with Cassandra, the first innocent woman that ever lost her life, and then it spiraled from there.

He knows the feeling of loss, knows exactly how it feels to have the most important thing snatched from his own rough hands. He went through that hell, watched his own daughter get accused of witchcraft in the walls of the unholy church. He fought like hell, throwing his body over his Sarah as they dragged her from his reach and held him back so they could tear her to shreds.

He cursed them out, damning them all to hell while they bound her hands and spilled holy water all over her body. He still hears her agonizing screams night after night, still sees her body alight with flames while they held him down against the mud and made him watch while he screamed in suffering with tear soaked eyes. He remembers it all, remembers them threatening his life after he got up and almost beat a man to death. His knuckles were bloody, body broken as they pushed him down and knocked him out with the back of a wooden plank.

He remembers everything. The pain, the loss, the absolute horror of living day after day in a town full of demons. And now he bleeds himself dry night after night, day after day. He has nothing left to give, no fight in him now. Now he’s just a hollow body, a broken man cursed to live in a place he so desperately despises. He wants out. God, does he want out.

But now there’s you. The woman he’s pined after for months. The rare beauty that captured his black heart, a ray of sunshine that showed him the light. It was the small smiles and grazing of skin, the gifted flowers, the afternoon small talks in the wildflower fields. He wishes he got the chance to kiss you, to tell you how much you saved him after his daughter was taken from him. But now it’s too late. He couldn’t save Sarah, and now he can’t save you. And it kills him, it fucking kills him.

He hears your gut wrenching screams, hears the crowd chant “Witch” repeatedly as his ears bleed dry. He covers his ears, kneels on the ground as dirt covers the fabric of his worn pants. He can’t hear it, can’t bear to know they’re torturing you. He wants to murder all of them, burn the whole goddamn town down, and maybe he will. Maybe this will push him to his last straw. He certainly won’t watch them burn you. No. He has to do something, anything.

He knows they’ll either throw you in a jail cell with venomous snakes or they’ll tie you and leave you in the field overnight. Where bears, creatures of the night, or monsters can take you out before the crack of dawn. He knows they’ll burn you early in the morning, crowd your body with hateful accusations and weapons they use like pitchforks. They won’t give you a chance to explain or to show you’re not guilty. They’ll just swallow your cries whole with their fiery tongues and amber ashes as they set your body alight.

He can’t see it, can’t hear it, can’t stand the thought of it. But what can a broken man do in a ruined town filled with cult following people that call themselves saints. He hates them, all of them. But he hates himself the most for not being able to save the people he cared most about.

He has to save you, even if it gets himself killed. For he’d rather stand on the thresholds of death with the fiery flames than see your gorgeous face melt into the depths of red embers. He’d walk through the black mist of hell, cross the fiery lakes of no return just to touch the softness of your skin.

You were innocent, a pure angel in a broken world. He wasn’t going to watch you die. Not tonight, not tomorrow, not ever.

They leave you tied to a post in the middle of the field, a little ways out from the sparkling lights from the little town. They gave you no room to move, gave you no remorse when you whined at the sharp rope digging into your skin. They only laughed at you, spitting hateful words as they left you alone in the chill of night.

Now you sulk against the rough bindings, tears streaming down your now wet face, nowhere to go, no one to call. You’re just here. Alone. Hours away from being burned in the field. The one where lost lives cry into the darkness of night, their haunted pleas and screams still filling your ears. You’d cover your ears if you could, drown out the noise with your own cries, but it’s too late. Soon enough you’ll join in on the chorus of the dead.

You rest your head on the rough post, look up at the blinking stars in the night sky, try to relax and calm your mind. Soon you’ll float up there while your body burns alive. Maybe there you won’t feel any pain, won’t feel anything that might hurt you. And that’s all you can think as the numbness drowns the anxiety out of your frail body.

Your mind starts to slip to a warmer place, an untouched place that hasn’t been quite explored. A nook deep in your mind that reflects soft brown irises and scents of freshly brewed coffee. Somewhere where you wished you could’ve spent more time, got closer, pushed aside all boundaries and slipped against his plush lips.

Joel Miller, the only man that had been remotely kind to you in this tainted town. You remember that day in the flower field. That warm, sunny day. He had been so close, his breath blowing against your cheek, his crooked smile shining rays of light against your delicate skin. You felt it, the tension, the longing, the raging desire that almost spilled out of the cracks of broken skin on his calloused fingers. God, you wish you could’ve felt those warm lips melting into yours. All you wanted was one kiss, but now it was too late. You’d never feel his touch again.

You groan into the worn post, feel the tears begin to lick the sides of your eyes, dig your hands against the jagged rope that cuts into your reddening skin. The more you tug, the more the rope shreds your aching skin. You wince, struggling to stand comfortably in this position. You finally give up, relax as much as you can and kiss tomorrow goodbye. You won’t last long after the sun rises high in the sky.

Minutes tick by, the seconds struggling to give you an ounce of redemption. This was it. You were going to die alone, no dreamy sunkissed brown irises to soothe you to sleep, no gravelly voice to tell you everything would be alright. He wouldn’t be there to save you in the end.

The tears crash over you, silent cries to the fading ghosts of Salem, begging for them to send a message, pleading for one to slip their cold whisps of fingers to untangle you from this rope so you can run far away, far from Salem.

You close your eyes and pray to anyone that may be listening to send someone, anyone. This can’t be the end, it just can’t.

You slump your head low, feeling your tears dry on your cold cheeks, eyelashes wet with old tears. This is it, this is…

You hear a loud snap in the near distance, hear leather boots crunching against the green grass. Your head shoots up, eyes searching for whatever made the pacing noises in the middle of the night. Your eyes go wide when you see the large form emerging from the shadows, broad shoulders pulling at the blue flannel button-up with each step he takes, rough hands balled into tight fists. Joel.

Your mouth drops open, and you suddenly forget to breathe. He stands in front of you, deep brown eyes that reflect sadness of his warm irises, furrowed brows as he slides his eyes over your weathered form, your frayed dress, the claw marks that run down to your bound hands. His lips flinch, jaw clenches as he takes in just what they did to you inside the church. It’s like he consumes your pain, bathes in it, shares your scars that David and the town marked you in.

“Joel,” you whisper in a broken tone as a fresh tear slides down the side of your face. He sighs, feeling the sting of a tear in the back of his throat. He tries to speak, but nothing comes out. Just a muted mutter that sounds a lot like your name spilling off his tongue.

He huffs, clambers over to you and cuts the rope with one slice of the silver knife, freeing your burning wrists as you stumble from the post and fall against his broad chest, his arms stabilizing you from falling to the ground.

You flick your eyes up to his slowly, letting his calloused palms linger on your skin as he grounds you back to earth. You’re so cold, the chilly air marking your skin, but he’s so warm, even with just his hands on you. Warm sunlight, that’s what he is.

“Joel, you saved me…” you whisper, voice unstable as your shaky breath escapes your lungs.”Why did you…”

He stares at you, amber flecks glimmering in the moonlight as he takes a deep, steady breath. “You’re innocent. I couldn’t jus’ stand back and watch ‘em torture you like they did with… well, you know. Sarah… I wouldn’t, I couldn’t. I jus’… couldn’t watch you burn, too,” he says sadly, his shaky breath blowing against your face.

There’s a second of tension in the air, a breath of something different between the two of you. Just two bodies that simply burn for the other, even if no words are said. It’s there. It’s right here, right now.

“You never were like the others, you know?” He takes one hand and cradles it on your cheek, taking the tip of his calloused thumb and sliding it up and down gently as you lean into him, into his warm embrace.

His eyes flick down to your lips, your eyes begging him to lean in, to take exactly what he’s wanted to do for so very long. Your hand is clasped around his wrist, not willing to let go until his lips are on yours.

The air around you stills, the forest behind you now quiet, only the sounds of yours and Joel’s ragged breaths coming in waves, only the quickening heartbeats that quake with every touch of his calloused fingers to your skin.

Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.

His forehead rests on yours, lips brushing carefully against yours. You’re so close, so close to him pressing all his weight into you. He practically shouts your name as his lips draw near. One more move and he’d close all the way in.

Just when you close your eyes and wait with anticipation biting at your heels, he’s pulling away from you and running his fingers through his disheveled curls. You try to reach out, but he steps out of your reach and nods his head in the direction of the dark forest.

“Go on, get out of here. Before they come lookin’ for ya. Go, now.” His voice is deep, rugged, tormented, his dark eyes glistening with held back tears like he’s fighting himself from telling you to leave.

“But…”

“Please, jus’ go. If they found you they’d…” His voice drowns out as he hangs his head low, the shadows fading against the greying scruff of his patchy beard.

You turn your head and look towards the muted forest. The one that holds tormented ghosts and creatures of the dark. A place you don’t want to go alone, but anywhere would be better than this horror town. But Joel… you can’t seem to leave him behind.

You snap your head towards him and whisper, “Come with me.”

He lifts his tired head and stares at you, all wide-eyed and searching your anguished face. “What?” His voice is strangled, like he can’t believe what you’re asking him to do.

“Come with me,” you repeat slowly. “There’s nothing here holding you back. I… you… we both had everything taken from us. And I don’t want to leave if that means you’re stuck here alone. You and me… well, we’re the same.”

He takes a beat to register your words, dips inside his own mind as he relives the day they took Sarah, the day they forced him to watch while his world got torn to shreds. You hold out your hand, and he just stares wide-eyed at it, his fingers curling out, just like he wants to take your hand. He does, he really does, but there’s just one thing holding him back. David.

He flicks his eyes to the sleeping town and then back at you, as if he has an agenda to get to. He nods his head and looks your way, a plan already set in motion in those flecks of honey. “There’s jus’ one thing I need to do first.”

“What’s that?” you ask, interest arising with your quiet voice.

He looks back to the hollow town, and his eyes narrow and slit together as he sets fire in his mind to this haunted place. His hand clenches into a tight fist, and he spits venom from his tongue. “We’re gonna burn it all down.”

Your mouth gapes open in shock, eyes wide, but then he’s grabbing your wrist and pulling you along with him. The wind whips through your hair, your heart thunders through your chest when he drags you along back into the dark town.

He wastes no time and grabs a large container of gasoline and starts spreading it all along the houses and buildings of the eerie town. You follow along, grabbing your own container and spilling it over bells of hay and wooden boards. You douse everything you see, wanting to burn every single inch of this religious town, wanting to destroy David, the culprit of all this land of turmoil and destruction.

You move quickly, barely making a sound as you soak a large ring around the town, watching Joel march up to David’s closed door with a deep scowl on his face. Your eyes go wide as you watch him go through, barely waiting a minute before he’s dragging David by the scruff of his neck, giving him no breath to himself.

“What the fuck is this, let me go!” David screams as he kicks and claws at the denim of Joel’s jeans.

“No,” he growls as he shoves David’s face into the dirt and kicks him hard in the gut, David’s face contorting into blind rage and pain.

“This is for my daughter, for not lettin’ her go when she was an innocent little girl,” he seethes as he lands a strong kick under David’s chin, spewing blood every which way.

“This is for holdin’ me down and makin’ me watch as you burned her alive. This is for murderin’ my only child, the only thing that kept me sane in this fuckin’ church goin’ town.” He punches a fist against his nose, hearing the crack of bones as David topples over and holds his broken nose.

“This is for tryin’ to take away the only other woman that ever shined sunlight in this godforsaken town. This is for burnin’ all her plants, her house, for killin’ everyone she had left. This is for tryin’ to take her away from me.”

There’s tears streaming down his worn, tanned face now, pieces of grief and exhaustion reflecting off his glassy brown eyes, hurt mapped along the wrinkled lines on his forehead, pain bleeding from the surface of his now bruised knuckles.

You stand there watching him silently, feeling a wet tear fall down your cheek as you consume the pain he’s felt all these years, all the grief that’s hung like a dead weight on his broad shoulders. And you suddenly feel like you understand him completely. He’s broken, just like you are, and all you want to do is wrap your arms around his neck and tell him that you’re here for him, he’s safe with you, always.

Another kick and another punch to the face, an endless cycle of taking all his rage and hate on David, the man that took everything from him. After a few seconds he looks up from the ground, a large hand wrapped around David’s bloody collar, a fist hanging just inches from his bruised up face. He stops dead in his tracks as his glistening, tear filled eyes look up at you, and that’s when you feel everything he’s ever felt.

You take a few cautious steps in his direction, feel another tear lick the corner of your eye, feel your heart shatter with every step you take closer to him. He just watches you, deep breaths leaving his lungs, his tired eyes pleading for someone, anyone to help.

One more step and you’re right beside him, reaching a hand out to run calmly through his dark, tousled locks, Joel searching your eyes for a way to escape his misery. He leans into your touch, allows your fingers to slide through his hair, even closes his eyes as a low groan escapes his plush lips.

Another moment passes gently by, and then he’s rolling David out of the way and wrapping his strong arms tightly around your legs, letting hot tears slide down his face as they hit your bare skin. You let him bury himself in you, let him take the comfort he needs as he grasps you tighter, his quiet tears filling the space between the two of you.

This is what he needs, what he always needed. Someone that would listen, that would help take the pain away, someone that would understand what he’s gone through. And that’s you, it’s you.

He drags you down to the ground with him and wraps his arms tightly around your back, nuzzling his face into the side of your neck as warm tears fill the cotton of the front of your dress. You wrap your arms around his neck, push your fingers gently through his tousled locks, giving him all the comfort he needs right now from you. He can have it all, it’s his, it’s all his.

“It’s okay, Joel. I’m right here. Let it out. All your pain, lay it on me. It’s going to be okay. You’ve got me, I’m not going anywhere. It’s alright,” you coo into the shell of his ear, feeling him relax into your hold, letting his fingers cling around the back of your dress. “You’re safe with me,” you whisper, and that’s when he leans back and looks you dead in the eyes, all glossy eyed and teary from the weight of the world crashing down on him.

He opens his mouth, looks softly down at you and smiles warmly at you, even through all the pain he still smiles. For you. He smiles for you.

“You’re so… good. You’ve always been so good. I should’ve… I should’ve…” He’s rudely interrupted from a coughing, blubbering mess of a man behind him, and he turns sharply over his shoulder to look at David.

“Well, ain’t that sweet? Sharing a moment together? Please, makes me want to vomit,” David coughs, blood splattering all over the ground from his throat. “Why don’t you two love birds just burn in hell where you belong?”

Something snaps in Joel, his eyes go pitch black and his scowl digs into the side of his mouth as he gets up and drags David to the church by his bloody ankle. Joel throws him inside the white peeling doors and drenches him in gasoline until he can barely form a coherent sentence.

“No, you burn in hell,” Joel growls, lighting a match and throwing it on his body.

Joel takes your hand and backs you up slowly, watching David writhe in pain while the church starts to topple and crumble on top of him, the worn walls collapsing from the amber fire that starts to consume the haunted town.

“Run,” Joel pleads as he takes your hand and leads you to the dark forest, only looking back to hear the horror screams and watch the burning flames swallow the entire town.

Your breath is shaky, your feet burning with every step you take, but Joel keeps you upright as his fingers lock around yours and pulls you through the thick, foggy night. You don’t look back, block out the dying screams like you did with Cassandra, just focus on your quick breath and your tired feet.

You run and run and run, escaping anything that can hurt you, anything that can claw your skin and drag you back into the burning flames of the lost town. They’re gone now, vanished in the fiery flames, burned alive just like that did to all those innocent women.

It’s over, done, you escaped, you got out. All because of Joel. Joel. Your savior in disguise.

Joel, Joel, Joel. He’s all you see, all you know, all you feel. It’s here with you right now, he’s here. Joel is here.

He takes a moment to catch his breath as moonlight shines down on the sweat of his thick brows, cascading off the reflection of his tanned skin beneath a towering oak tree. You focus on him, his quick breaths, his dark eyes that seem to cast shadows over you, thick hands grasping against the rough bark as he slowly looks up, hovers just a little closer and then stares, mouth partly open as he takes in your windblown hair and your stormy eyes.

Another drawn breath and he’s sucking it back in. “Are you alright?” he asks quickly, eyes piercing into yours with worry.

“I’m… I’m alright,” you answer, still dazed from what happened minutes ago. The fire, the angry ambush of David, the whole town now scorching in the flames where they belong, where they should’ve been long ago.

He takes another step forward, the worn leather of his boots meeting your scraped toes. “I should’ve known they were gonna do it. I should’ve fuckin’ known they were gonna burn your house down, accuse you of bein’ a witch, should’ve fuckin’ knew they planned to murder you in the break of daylight under flames.”

He hangs his head in defeat, like he didn’t already save you, like he could’ve done more, and your heart breaks from the guilt that eats him alive. “If I would’ve jus’ kept goin’ to that goddamned church. If I would’ve fuckin’ listened to what the people in town were sayin’ ‘bout you. If I would’ve jus’ been a better man I could’ve saved you. Maybe I could’ve…”

You press a palm to his heaving chest, curl your fingers around the soft blue flannel, engrave yourself just a little into his damp skin, enough to feel yourself in his fast beating heart. He stills beneath your touch, looks down and puts his entire attention on you, waiting with tear stained eyes right on the verge of spilling.

“Joel, you did save me. You got me out before they could burn me. You took David out, you put the town of hell to rest. You freed me from my bindings, you came with me, you didn’t leave me alone. You saved everything about me…”

His eyes bore into yours, something like desire and fate twisting together, an inkling of relief leaving his doe eyes as his fingers cautiously trace against your bare arm, slow circles of the pad of his calloused thumb dancing across your wrist like a tide full of warm waves lapping against your body. It’s comforting, magnetic even as his skin connects with yours so slowly, so steadily, almost like a lazy river rippling through the forest.

He sighs, slowly lifts his large hand to cup your cheek, calloused fingers gently drawing lines against your soft skin. You lean into it, breathe in his pinecone scent, almost taste what his lips might feel like on yours. Like a breath of fresh air, a breath of life.

“I had to save you. You were the only thing left that kept my heart beating. The only sunshine I saw under those cloudy grey skies,” he breathes, glossy eyes slipping into yours as they flick down to your mouth.

Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me.

“I should’ve kissed you back in that flower field when I had the chance. The way your hair flowed behind your shoulders, your sparkling eyes, your fuckin’ breathtaking smile. I jus’…” He leans his forehead down against yours, lips skating across your mouth as he passes them by, his gentle caress of your face as soft as a feather.

And he’s so soft, like a red rose petal beneath all the thorns and vines that disconnects him from anyone else. He doesn’t show this side of himself to anyone else, but he shows you. He shows you.

“You just what?” you whisper, holding your breath as he cages you against the trunk of the tree, one hand still caressing your face with his rough palm while the other wraps around your waist.

Another breath, another touch from his thumb as it traces along your bottom lip. He looks down, focuses in on your lips as he wets his own, hazel eyes staring down at you as he gulps down any fear he may be holding on to.

“I jus’ need to… need to… fuck, jus’ need you on my lips, sweetheart.”

Before you can move an inch he crashes down on your lips, cradles your face with his large palms as you sink into his broad chest, your fingers twisting into the flannel fabric that clings to you.

The kiss is slow, desperate, hungry. You feel as if this is the first time you’re breathing life into your body as Joel gives himself to you. He pulls you in by your waist as your arms circle around his neck, one hand combing through his messy curls as he groans into your mouth.

You part your lips, allow him to slot his tongue in as you taste all of him colliding against your own tongue. You moan into his mouth, let his tongue chase yours as you down the whisky taste of him, lapping him up like he’s your only oxygen supply left. You think you feel forever in his taste.

He tugs at your worn dress, slides the cotton material down your arms until it hits the dirt on the ground. You quickly pull his flannel free, tugging the leather belt loose while his tongue licks feverishly into your mouth.

He brings you down gently to the ground, makes sure your body lands on top of his fanned out flannel, makes sure you’re okay when he disconnects from your lips and looks down at you with a hesitant stare.

“Is this okay? We can stop if it’s too much. We don’t have to…”

“Joel,” you stop him, give him a small smile as you nod up to him. “It’s okay. I want you to. Please, don’t stop,” you plead.

He takes your answer and swallows it down, sits back on his heels as he gazes down at your splayed out, bare body under the glistening moonlight, looking starstruck from just how absolutely breathtaking you are under the glow of the moon. He thinks you look angelic, like you’re made of glitter and gold, like you’re made just for him.

He takes his hand and runs it along your jawline, down your neckline, over the dip of your hips, stopping at the top of your thigh. He lets a sigh escape his mouth as he stares at the goddess that’s before him, and he thinks he’s so lucky to be alive, to have you in front of him, unharmed, in his arms where he can keep you safe.

“You’re so beautiful, jus’ like that field full of flowers you stood in, with your hair all tangled in the wind.”

Your breath hitches, eyes widen as you take in just what he said to you. He thinks you’re beautiful. “You think I’m beautiful?” you ask quietly, lips parted as his hazel eyes glisten down to yours.

“Yeah. I do, darlin’. Gorgeous.”

Then he’s leaning down and kissing you again while his large hands push your thighs apart. It’s like your mind carries you off into the clouds as his lips drag down your neckline, quiet moans blowing through your lips when his warm lips take your breasts into his mouth, pebbling your nipples as he sinks down down down and lands right between your thighs.

You moan, feeling him lick a thick strip up your core, making your head knock back into the softness of the flannel while he spreads your folds and slowly starts to circle your buzzing clit.

You card your fingers through his tousled curls, hear him groan into your dripping core while he laps up all the slick between your thighs, tugging your bundle of nerves into his wanting mouth, sinking his tongue deep into your dripping hole, feeding all your desires as he gives you pleasure like you’ve never felt before.

You feel the white hot heat slide down your spine, feel your breaking point about to come loose, feel every stroke of Joel start to unlatch the tidal waves in your core. You feel as if you’re kissing the stars as he pulls you closer to his mouth, wraps his strong arms a little tighter around your thighs, laps his wet tongue up and down your core like he’s been starving for you for months. And now he has you, right on the edge of breaking.

“Joel,” you moan, “I’m gonna… gonna…”

“Go on, sweetheart. Come for me. Let me take you all the way. Show me jus’ how good I’m makin’ you feel,” he groans between the licks, taking his time to slide his tongue in slow circles around your aching clit.

You feel two thick fingers curl up into your heated core, feel him press up to heights you never could yourself, feel him collide with that spongy spot against your wall that makes you see stars. One more lick against your sensitive bundle of nerves and you’re arching your back and calling his name while your slick spills down your thighs, into Joel’s waiting mouth.

It feels electric the way he laps all your slick up, his hot mouth blowing against your core, eliciting another moan from your parted lips as he licks and licks and licks until you’re a writhing mess beneath his mouth.

He looks up from between your legs, sticky slick coating his thick beard, eyes glossy from pulling an orgasm out of you, hands planted firmly against the top of your thighs as he looks up at you, out of breath from diving into you.

“You taste jus’ like honeysuckle, beautiful. Like sugar on my lips,” he smiles, the edges of his hooded eyes glowing under the moonlight. And you swear you’ve never seen anything more magical in your life.

“Joel, need you…” you whimper out, reaching for his body.

“What do ya need, darlin’? Tell me what you want,” he whispers into the chill of the night.

You take a breath and blow it out, hoping your nerves won’t get in the way. “You, Joel. Want all of you. Inside me. Want you anyway I can have you,” you whine, desperate for the friction of his body against yours.

He smiles up at you, pushes his dark jeans down, his boxers trailing after them until his hard cock is pressed against his stomach, red tip smothered in precum, his thick vein traveling along the underside of his cock, ready to split you in two.

Your eyes grow wide watching him crowd your body, his thick cock pressing against your soaked folds, rubbing up and down to collect your slick all over his massive length. He’s huge, but you can take him. You want him, now.

“Slow breaths now. Might be a stretch. Jus’ relax, I’ve got you, baby,” he coos, relaxing your body while he slowly enters inside your dripping core.

He gradually plunges into you, drowning out your moans as his lips land on yours, swallowing your gasps as he stretches you to the brim, his thick width rutting in and out of you, bottoming out until you can’t feel anything, can't taste anything but him. Joel, Joel, Joel. He’s everywhere, consuming you, bodies twisted together while he rocks back and forth, both sharing moans that get swallowed by the other, like you’re magnetized together.

It’s like you’re one in the same, two broken bodies that mend each other back together, two fragile souls that burn for the other, dance in the flames while your bodies get lost in the other’s, lost souls that found each other through pain and grief, Joel colliding into you like a star crossed lover, someone you’ve waited years for.

You break again, nails scratching down his tanned back while your walls hug him tight, pouring out hot liquid that covers him in you.

“Ahh fuck. Squeezin’ me so tight, can’t hold on, sweetheart. Feels so fuckin’ good,” he grits through his teeth, trying with all his might to slip out of you before he spills himself inside of you.

You lock your legs around his hips, make him stop before his warmth disappears, letting him know that it’s okay, that you want him to stay. “It’s okay. Let go. Come inside, Joel. Need you, need all of you,” you beg, long lashes batting up at him as you coax him to stay.

“You sure?” he asks, eyebrows knitting together into concern as he hears your plea.

“Yes,” you breathe, your voice panting from the come down of your intense orgasm. “Inside me,” you repeat, a little louder.

He hears you loud and clear. He thrusts inside of you, as deep as he can go, kissing your cervix as he grunts and grits his teeth together, eliciting another moan from you as he speeds up his pace.

Once, twice, three more times and he’s throwing his head back, a low moan slipping from his clenched teeth as thick ropes of cum spill inside you, filling you so full that you moan out in bliss, completely saturated with his seed inside you, and that’s what does it. What consummates the two of you together, like stars in the night sky, two lovers that burn for each other.

He falls against your side, scoops you up and sews you to his broad chest as his fingers trace the side of your sweat covered face.

You’re both panting, both exhausted from the love making, no room to do anything else but drown in the other’s ecstasy. You’re just two warm bodies now, a false witch, a beaten man, two bodies that bleed together who slowly mend one another’s wounds.

He traces your lips, his calloused thumb perfectly dancing across your face as he stares down at you, the woman he’s pined after for months, the one he knew he’d eventually fall for. And he did. He fell hard.

“What do we do now, Joel?” you ask quietly, while he continues to trace the lines of your skin.

“What we always do. Survive. But we do it together this time. This time, we thrive.”

The way he’s looking at you with big doe eyes, and the way he’s touching you all soft and tender makes you feel things. Things you’ve never felt before. Like your heart swells just at the faint glow of his smile, his caramel eyes swirling into yours, his body crowding yours with the softest touch you ever felt before. Maybe you love him, you do love him. And you think maybe he loves you, too. But that’s for another night to uncover because right now this is where you are, bathing in each other’s moonlight, feeling sparks like the fireflies that dance in the forest light surrounding you, almost like this is magic. Joel is magic. He’s your safe space, your equal.

You sink into his chest, wrap your arms a little tighter around him while his lips graze across your forehead, telling you that it’ll be alright, that both of you will be just fine.

“Joel?”

“Hmm?” he hums, his deep voice reverberating through your entire body like cords connected to an acoustic guitar, like he used to play.

“Promise me the worst is over, that we can make it maybe to the coast, find a new town, build a new life. A life that maybe isn’t so broken?”

He sighs into your hair, scoops you closer into his arms and kisses you softly across your lips. “I can promise that the worst is over. No one’s ever gonna lay another finger on you, not on my watch, sweetheart. We’re free. I’ll take you to the coast. We’ll build a new life together. You and me. We’ve got the whole world in our hands now, and nothing can stop us now. No more flames, no more embers, it’s jus’ us.”

You lean into him, as close as you can get while his hand traces up and down your back soothingly. You think this is exactly where you belong, in Joel’s arms, taking on the world together. You can do anything as long as you have him by your side, your guiding light out of the flames.

Tagging some friends who seemed interested 😊 @ozarkthedog @alltheirdamn @covetyou @chronically-ghosted @sawymredfox

@littlevenicebitch69 @604to647 @joelmillerisapunk @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape

@vivian-pascal @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @msjarvis @mountainsandmayhem

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller fic #joel miller au #witch trial! au #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller #tlou fanfiction #joel miller pedro pascal #joel the last of us

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yawujin · 4 months

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Hi there you're really cool (shuichi is great). If you wouldn't mind writing v3 boys x reader that dyes their hair a lot (wild colors each time)

Example: one week the reader has one hair color than a couple weeks later oop a different color.

Little bonus: the reader forgets to dye their hair and their roots grow back their natural hair color

I hope this made sense it's really late

Thank you

okay ramona flowers i see you lmao

request | how the v3 boys would react to reader that dyes their hair often

type | react , light hearted , non killing game , gender neutral reader

shuichi saihara ♡

instantly but silently notices each time you do so

doesn't comment on it until you ask him if he likes the color of the week

ofc he does

"any reason in particular why you dye it so often?" he asks one day

you explain to him that you just enjoy it and that it's for fun

hmm would you want to dye your hair shuichi?

he raises his brows, surprised you'd ask him

"i'd try anything once so, i suppose!"

you two agree that he'll try it if you're the one dyeing his hair

rantaro amami ♡

unlike shuichi, he comments on it right away, sounding rather impressed

"well now, if it isn't the ultimate hairdresser~" he jokes

no seriously, where on earth do you find the time to dye your hair

he has certain colors he favors over others

especially on you

offers to paint your nails to match whatever color you have on your hair at that time

K1B0/kiibo ♡

omfg he's kinda jealous

he wishes he could also dye his hair but the chemicals in the dye would surely mess with the metal

you offer to get him wigs with different colors (and you know exactly where to get them from cough *tsumugi* cough)

he just laughs and says it's fine

adores each and every color on you

he's your go-to if you want to search for products that prevent damage from a lot of dyeing!

korekiyo shinguji ♡

would definitely bring up his research about how ancient peoples used to dye their hair using various things

like how vikings used to dye their hair blond using wood ash soap

hehe

anyway

he would also help you maintain it by offering to assist you in getting the dye in harder to reach places

like the very back of your head lol

offers to brush your hair after

"no matter what color you choose...you always look perfect."

kaito momota ♡

he never gets used to seeing you with a new hair color so often

everytime you greet him he's like

"again!?" and another two weeks go by

you have a brand new color

"AGAIN!?"

he doesn't hate it though, he finds it interesting

he really likes pastel blue on you

reminds him of neptune :)

gonta gokuhara ♡

he asks you about it

"why (Y/N) hair change so much?"

so you explain

you can practically see a lightbulb flash bright over gonta's head

"ah! gonta see..."

he really likes it

always asks ahead of time which color you are planning to dye your hair next

"gonta want to see if he can find bug to match (Y/N)'s hair!"

he'd then show you a beautiful orchid mantis which matched your baby pink hair

ryoma hoshi ♡

makes it a point to compliment you if you dyed your hair multi-colored

lowkey wants to you see you do the calico cat hair trend

offers one of his beanies to you if you feel embarrassed that you forgot to dye your hair and your roots begin to show

he thinks your natural hair color is cute though

maybe one day he'll get to see you with no hair dye at all (?)

kokichi ouma ♡

the first to notice that your roots are showing

he announces it aloud for all to hear

SHHHHH

he's just messing with you ofc

insists to everyone that you are a copycat when you decide to dye it purple

he really likes it when you dye it red

it just does it for him

winkk

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tired-biscuit · 2 years

Text

i think bakugou likes to be babied a little bit.

nothing too drastic, of course, i'm thinking about some simple cuddling behind closed doors after he's had a very long, very tiring day at work. with him pressing you tightly against the mattress of your shared bedroom late at night; your legs comfortably spread just wide enough for him to fit his burly body in-between, and whose hefty weight you can feel resting on your stomach and chest the moment he lands it there.

so all of it is so simply cozy; intimate. your souls are merging without either of you putting in the effort to actually meld them, further strengthening the bond between you. running your fingers through his thick hair that's still slightly damp from the shower he's just finished taking, you stare at the dark ceiling with a sleepy smile ghosting over your lips as you listen to your boyfriend's breathing. it's turned slow, almost languid.

peaceful.

moments pass as the shadows continue to dance on the bedroom walls, and your sleepy smile breaks into a grin when he inhales deeply and sighs in the exact same way most dogs do when they're tired from a long day of playing outside. his skin is completely bare underneath the thin duvet; so warm. he's got nothing else on except for the thin golden chain that you've gifted him as an anniversary present for your fourth year together, and that's now dangling loosely around his neck.

the pretty jewellery is also warm to the touch as you untangle your hand from the ash blonde spikes to stroke down the back of his neck instead. there's no pendant. you didn't want it to be too tacky because you know he prefers to keep things simple, but who knows... maybe he'll add to the gold by hanging a ring on it someday. maybe.

the corners of your mouth twitch at the thought as the heel of your palm glides along the valley of his spine, following along the subtle dip in-between his broad shoulders which you've completely memorized by now. your fingers trace the familiar remnants of his past scars; some thin and barely visible, others so deeply etched into him that they'll surely brand him until the day he dies.

rubbing his bare skin like this fills the room further with his potent scent. he smells fresh; like citrus and something pleasantly sharp that you can't possibly pinpoint for the life of you, but you know it barely matters because it'll all be overtaken by the signaturely sweet smell of caramel at some point anyway.

all that matters is the touch you give. the contact you provide.

so neither of you talks as you hold him like this. you just anchor him; petting him all over, and allowing him to piece himself back together in the dark in his own pace. he's content with just listening to the sound of your heartbeat as it gently lulls him to sleep, is satisfied by feeling your hands stroke him all over his back; coaxing the strained, aching muscles there to finally relax.

he loves you so much, he hopes you know that. you're the only one who gets to see him so vulnerable like this. who still hears him even without a single word uttered into the darkness, who gets to hold him like he's a small kitten in dire need of help, instead of a supposed brute of a man, who's inching towards his thirties and who should apparently serve as his own pillar as far as social norms go.

but fuck social norms, truly. he holds onto you a little bit tighter as sleep begins to creep up on him, calloused fingers sneaking underneath the hem of your dynamight t-shirt just so he can stroke your sides a little bit before he passes out. he does it so that he can pay you back, at least in some way for staying up so late and waiting for him to return home safely. for actually giving him a sense of home to return to in the first place.

and oh, how sweet; your heartbeat quickens at his touch, he can hear it. it kisses his cheek, repeatedly pecking the skin that's been tinted with a shade of soft pink because of the warmth shared between you. it's calming and soothing to him, just like your doting hands are. just like your very existence is.

so bakugou finally allows himself to fall asleep because of the comfort your existence provides, with his consciousness ridden of the many horrors his job brings. nothing matters but you and your touch, and the sound of your heart, and your breathing, your warmth and your scent. all of it together wipes his mind entirely clean.

still, there's only one more fleeting thought that flashes through him before he fully succumbs to his dreams. one that brings a mere hint of a smile upon his lips.

you love him, too. you truly do.

#katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bnha x reader #biscuit drabbles #bakugou x reader

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undeadcannibal · 1 year

Note

Your honor I'd like to propose an amendment to the 🍆 head cannon post:

Curvature and distinguishing colors, features? Are they darker or the same shade? Lighter? Hair color? Texture? Who's got a lean? 🥎⚾s?

Summary: More requested ‘N.SF.T’ headcanons for Task Force 141, Los Vaqueros, and König~ Part 2 of this post here!

Genre: Headcanons, request(s) Characters featured: Price, Gaz, Ghost, Soap, Alejandro, Rodolfo, and König.

Warnings: explicit content!

A/N: Never did I expect for that other post to become as popular as it did. I’m happy y’all enjoy my gross and overly-detailed headcanons. Also, please note, if any of you happen to not like or find any of my hcs to be gross or not what you expected, keep in mind they’re just my headcanons. Don’t take ‘em seriously, dudes. Weird and rude replies will be deleted. ( Gif credit: xxx )

Gaz―

Not much of a curve to it, honestly, he’s pretty straight curvature wise. Distinguishing colors? I’d say his foreskin is the same as his skin tone overall, tip-wise? I’m thinking it’s a bit darker than the color of his lips and flushes an even deeper color when he’s fully aroused, mhm. Hair color of his pubes is dark and also has a some curl and texture to it when he does let it grow out for some time. Balls, too? Hm... I’d say Kyle’s sporting a nice, snug set he prefers to keep smooth and clean more often than not.

Bonus! Kink headcanon is that he adores you paying extra special attention to his balls. Worship them and he’ll be cumming all over your face in no time~

Ghost―

Slight upward curve that stimulates you in the best of ways. IDC what anyone says, man has a mouthwatering cock with a nice flesh-pink tip and anyone can fight me on it. Probably slightly darker than his overall skin tone but not by much. Pubic hair stuff... I’m torn between him being a natural dirty blond or brunet. (I can’t remember where I saw the fanart from, but someone has a headcanon that he bleaches his brunet hair blond and oof, I’m in love, also give him long ass roots since he can’t keep up with his root touch-ups while out on missions) Straight-ish texture to his hair as well, grows pretty smoothly altogether. THIS MAN has a thick vein running down the middle of his shaft, my lord. And finally, for his balls, I’m thinking he’s got a hefty set that he’s quick to push you down to so you can pay them some attention, expect some light tickling from the hair there, too. uwu

Bonus! Kink headcanon is he struggles with being submissive and prefers being dominant the majority of the time due to his trauma. He doesn’t like the idea of submitting to someone -- he’s far too afraid of what kind of consequences it could possibly have for him. This doesn’t mean he’s a sadistic or strict Dom. If anything, he’s hyper aware of your reactions to every little thing he does, also refuses anything hard or physical against you, he detests the thought of causing his partner pain.

Price―

Leans ever so slightly to the right, isn’t too noticeable though. Since he’s circumcised in my previous post, could probably notice a scar that separates light flesh-tone color of his shaft from the faint pink of his tip. Also, despite him preferring to trim his facial hair specifically, I’d see him as going fully natural bush-wise. Man’s got a lovely cushion of brown hair that’s got just the faintest amount of gray speckled throughout. While he looks very textured, I personally think his hair would be soft af. Large set of balls that droops a bit lower now than when he was younger~

Bonus! Kink headcanon for John is - if you’re willing - he’d love to use you as an ashtray when he’s smoking. He’d light up, take a few puffs, than order you to open your mouth so he could tap the ashes off onto your tongue. Ordering you to keep your mouth open so he can see the black and grey specks of ash decorating your tongue before having you swallow.

Soap―

Has just the slightest upward curve to him, definitely jokes it’s great for helping stimulate his partner’s g-spot. Also knows all the best camera angles for top-tier dick pics. Shade darker than his natural skin tone and also has a smidge of hair going up the bottom of his shaft. Doesn’t mind in the slightest though. As mentioned before, he prefers going all natural and doesn’t shave or trim much. Lord, the amount of hair this man has. Has treasure trail, hair thighs, ass, groin, everything. Sorry, I love hairy men, what can I say? Also, when he’s super pent up, his tips turns a deep ruddy shade you love to see every time. Balls are on the larger side with one being slightly smaller than the other, also very sensitive and will have him turning into a whimpering mess if you pay special attention to them.

Bonus! Kink headcanon is he takes every spare chance he can get to take and send nudes and videos of him jacking off. Doing his best to make those sounds you love whilst trying not to get caught by anyone. Those moments are for your eyes and your eyes only~

Rodolfo―

Sobbing because his cock is the same gorgeous shade as the rest of his skin, although can see the head of his cock and his balls being a tad darker. Maybe has a tad lean towards the left. Has trimmed dark hair that feels amazing beneath your fingertips. Balls are a bit on the larger side. Run your tongue over them and his dick will be twitching above your face in no time, also will draw up tight to him when he’s cumming~ Please spread this man’s thighs apart, he’s got beauty marks for days and will fucking tremble if you kiss and run your tongue over them!

Bonus! Kink headcanon is he’s got such a praise kink when it comes to his partners. The hottest thing in the world for him is for him to be showering his partner with compliments, feeling them clench tightly around him as his words register in their pleasured-addled minds.

Alejandro―

Much like Rudy, he’s a beautiful shade of tan all throughout, and his cock head is just as flushed and ruddy when he’s aroused. Much like Rudy, has a lean but his is the exact opposite, veering to Also is hairy just like Soap, but nowhere near to the same degree. If anything, man’s sporting a thick bush, hairy thighs, and legs. Also another man sporting thick veins throughout the length of him that he’s more sensitive about being touched than he’d like to admit. Large set of balls that do sag a bit but doesn’t mind in the slightest definitely likes to teabag his partner as a result if they allow him to

Bonus! Kink headcanon for our man is that he’s a sucker for sloppy oral, giving or receiving, but especially receiving. Nothing excites him more than seeing how ruined and messy he can make your face as he fucks it.

König―

Doesn’t really have much of a curve or lean to him, but rest assured he’s got veins for days lining his shaft. And, if you run your tongue along them, he melts on the spot. Perfect male whimpering audio material <3 The color of him is noticeably darker than the rest of him. That, combined with his beautiful sandy colored curls make for a mouthwatering view. Also has large, yet tight balls that are far more sensitive than he’d like. Overstimulate the big guy right now!

Bonus! Kink headcanon is that due to his size all around, he’s grown to have a liking for size difference with his partner being smaller than his. It’s pretty easy given his height, but more so it drives him feral to see his cock bulging his partner’s belly out with every thrust he gives.

#john price x reader #soap x reader #gaz x reader #simon riley x reader #alejandro vargas x reader #rodolfo parra x reader #könig x reader #call of duty x reader #task force 141 x reader #los vaqueros x reader #cod headcanons #headcanons #'nsft'#opened mail #requests #my writing #lordsexmachine

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softshuji · 1 year

Text

Ran doesn't often feel deflated.

It's not often he allows himself to wallow in the moment, or the enjoy the pity he spends so long denying himself. But looking in the mirror now, at the violet turning to navy hair that stares back at him from the mirror twinkling with strobe lights, he almost allows himself a sliver of sadness. The silk of his hair, now kisses at the floor, waves upon waves that he'll miss braiding in the morning, your soft hands that tug gently on each one when you pull him back for a kiss.

Yes it does feel weird, freeing and not at the same time, when the wind moves through the strands with a lightness that his longer hair didn't allow for. There is nothing to twirl his baton around now, he thinks, as he walks the streets of Roppongi, to your apartment where he waits, with some trepidation to show you the fresh cut which was more a necessity than desire.

'Ran?' you say, when his arms come around you from behind, wet hands drying on a towel to then slide over his forearms, the cuffs now folded to the elbow, all honeyed skin where the fine hairs soak in the evening light, shell pink that has his eyes flashing fuchsia and violet.

He waits, with some apprehension as you turn around and take it in, the lack of blond locks that you could wind a hand around and tug, the short and neatly gelled purple that's carefully tucked behind his ears, curled over his proud forehead.

'So...' he says and clears his throat when he sees your eyes widen, the reflection of him in the shine of them. 'What do you think baby?' and he loathes to admit, that he'll hate it more if you do too, that really, this is all that matters, the cavern of his self-pity that might grow if you think he is somehow lesser for something as simple as this.

'It's...' and your mouth opens and closes like a fish, a hand coming up to touch his cheek, the edge where his ear meets hair, a thumb gently moving a stray strand back from where it curls at his cheekbone. 'It's different.'

'Yeah, I know.'

'You don't like it do you?' and you soften, your hand snaking to the back of his neck where your fingers twirl a few strands, a gentle tug that proves you still can, that proves it hasn't changed.

'It's not ideal. I'm just gutted it was necessary, after all the police shit that went on,' he says, a cold wet balm to the fire of his hurt, to sate the pain he thinks has been unnecessarily pulled from him, and really it was just hair, but it was his, and it was yours and maybe he enjoyed the feeling of your nails raking across his scalp a little more than he voiced. And it had been necessary, and he hadn't been the only one forced to change, and yet it never helped that he felt some part of him was somehow lacking.

You smile, soft and placating, run a hand through the back of it, the softness that kisses your skin when his hair touches your knuckles and he sighs, audibly, when you rake your nails gently across his scalp, a thrum of friction that has him almost moaning at the expert touch. 'Well I like it. Makes you look like a Dilf.'

'A Dilf?' and he pulls back, to narrow his eyes at you, boyish handsome charm that has a smirk tugging at his lips, so easily drawn and so easily given to you. 'I am neither old enough nor do we have kids.'

You feign a moment of thought and tap your lip with one finger, the other hand running down the slope of his neck to play with the edge of his collars where the inky black of his tattoo spills past the parted fabric. 'Dilf-ism isn't about age, it's a state of mind Ran, and you sir,' you whisper and pull him down, just like that, his lips a breath from yours, tantalisingly close and a supple pliant pink, 'are a Dilf.'

He raises an eyebrow, and it's palpable, the way the hurt cools in his chest, regret that turns to ashes and nothing more, the grief that's smoothed over by your love that never ends. 'What about the other part huh angel?' he says and pulls your waist to his, his pelvis knocking yours against the counter, arms trapping you between the mahogany wood of your island kitchen and the strong, toned ridges of his body.

Your breath hitches, as it always does, as it always has, reactions so easily pulled from you and with such ease. 'Other part?'

'Mhm.' And he takes your chin between his fingers, a thumb that presses to your lips to part them for himself, obedience and love and care that has the heat breaking out across your skin. 'The not having kids yet part.'

'Oh.'

'If you give me a moment of your time baby, ' he says, 'I'm sure we can change that too don't you think?'

And when he kisses you there, the rosy pink of the evening sky spilling into your kitchen, and with a hand running through the violet hues of his hair, it is with less regret, less apprehension, less like he has something to be angry at, and all the love you so easily give, that he loves and never feels deserving of.

But he is, you've always known that.

Reblogs appreciated!

(happy late birthday to this dummy, I couldn't miss the opportunity now could I? Also Dilf Ran supremacy goodbye, I stand by it.)

#tokyo revengers #tokyo rev #haitani ran #ran x reader #tokyorev x reader #ran haitani #ran haitani x reader

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uhmprobablynot · 1 year

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Sorry I’m a little late but I would love to see a part 2 to the bully fic, part 1 was awesome.

love your writing<3

The moment we have all been waiting for.... Bully/Jock!Schlatt part 2, the squeakual, hope you guys enjoy this one as much as the last one. I have a third part 2/3rds of the way written with a full full smut scene and minor angst teehee but I wanted to get this out to y'all asap,,, anyway enjoy!!

my friend who wanted to be tagged: @toesforhoesbros

Part One > Part Two > Part Three

The following afternoon came slowly, your nerves making the time seem to drag. You put on the jersey Schlatt gave you and left for the field. When you got there, you told the ticketer your name, and he handed you a pass. “Show this to the security guard inside. He’ll walk you to where you need to go.” You thank him and move into the arena. You find a security guard rather quickly and he walks you down the stairs to some reserved sears behind the dugout.

“Hi!” a perky voice says from beside you. The voice comes from a pretty blonde girl who is wearing a similar jersey to the one you are wearing. “My name is Ash. I’ve never seen you here before.” You shake your head.

“Nope, first time here.” Ash just laughs and gestures for you to sit next to her. You do.

“My boyfriend is number 22, his name is Zach.” She leans so you can see the 22 and Carlton across the back. “Which one is yours?” You laugh nervously. “None of them?” Ash gives you a confused look.

“What do you mean ‘none of them’,” she air quotes. “You’re on girlfriend row. One’s gotta be yours.” You blush as you remember Schlatt’s hesitation when he mentioned the section you would sit in. “Who’s on your jersey then?” Ash touches your shoulder to get a look at your back. She laughs, and doesn’t stop. “The baby of the team, how cute.” She stands up and bangs on the dugout. This causes Zach to look up towards her. He runs to meet her at the net.

“This is Schlatt’s ‘not-girlfriend-even-though-she’s-sitting-here-wearing-his-jersey-girlfriend’!” You blush as she introduces you.

“No, no. It’s not like that. The guy barley put up with me!” You try to defend. Zach only laughs.

“Well, not girlfriend,” he starts. “Looks like he has some explaining to do, then.” He smiles and blows a kiss towards Ash before going into the dugout. Ash looks at your dumbfounded face and cackles. She pulls you into her side. “I have a feeling I’m going to be seeing a lot more of you.” She giggles, then points out into the field. “Schlatt is in the outfield, warming up.” Your cheeks get warm as you look towards him.

He’s far out, but you can see how the uniform fits him perfectly; the pants tight against his thighs, his short sleeve jersey showing how his biceps as he throws the ball.

“Yeah,” Ash starts. “The uniform does wonders for the boys.” She leans in closer. “Especially their asses, I mean whew.” Suddenly, the cement under your feet is way more interesting than the field in front of you. Ash just cackles again.

You hear a yell from the dugout and all the players from your school move back in towards it. Schlatt runs in field and spots you. He smiles, then sees Ash and it drops as his cheeks go pink. Ash nudges you and indicator that she saw what just happened. You went to say a smart remark but as you started too, the announcer started calling out the lineups. The game was starting.

As the ninth inning winds down, your school’s team is one behind. Schlatt is up to bat. If he doesn’t hit the ball enough for at least the man on third base to get it home, the game is over. The pitcher opposite of Schlatt wipes the sweat off of his forehead, and Schlatt grips the bat harder. The pitcher winds. A clank echoes through the stadium. Schlatt hit the baseball and its moving high and fast towards the outfield. Ash and you grab each other’s arm, the tension in the stadium is thick. Schlatt runs and all the other men on the field do, too. Then the ball goes over the fence and the entire stadium erupts. The first home run of the season. Four full points to your school’s team, four winning points to your school’s team.

Ash and you yell as the announcers yell home run and all the boys make it to home plate. Schlatt looks up at you as you pass it and you and Ash cheer louder.

“Come on!” Ash says, grabbing your hand and begins leading you.

“Where are we going?” You ask as she weaves you in and out of leaving guests.

“The lobby.” She answers plainly, as if that would answer your question. Ash opened a door to a quiet hallway with seats that lined the walls. “The players come out of that door after they shower and get changed.” You looked at the door. She took your hand and pulled you down to a seat next to her.

“Look, obviously there is something between you and Schlatt. I’ve known him for almost three years now. And he’s never brought a girl here.” You felt embarrassment flood your veins. You went to say something as you heard footsteps from the other side of the door. The door opened and a few of the guys from the team, including Zach, walked out. Ash stood up and ran into his arms.

“Hey,” he said, wobbling to you as Ash hadn’t let go yet. “Nice to see you on the other side of the net.” You waved and congratulated him on the game. “Not me,” he laughed. “That was your not-boyfriend who won.” The wave of embarrassment came back again. Schlatt walked in at that same moment. “Speak of the devil!” Zach yelled.

“We should leave,” Ash said as you and Schlatt looked at each other. Zach nodded.

“Hi,” Schlatt said.

“Hi,” you responded. “That last swing was great. Congrats.” Schlatt blushed and chuckled.

“Thank you.” You both just stood in the hallway, looking at each other. “Thank you for coming, by the way.” His voice was quiet and genuine. You smiled at his sudden timidness.

“Well, you gave me a jersey and a free ticket. I couldn’t have not.” You smile up at him.

“Uh,” He stutters. “Do you need a ride?”

“Yeah,” You hesitate. “If that’s alright with you.” “I asked dumbass, come on.” Schlatt and you began walking out to his car. He unlocks the car, putting his stuff in the back seat. You reach to open your door and he yells. “What are you doing?” You say, startled by his sudden yelling. He runs to the passenger side of the door and opens it for you.

“I might be an asshole.” He leans on the door as you get in. “But I am a gentleman.” He closes the door after winking at you, then begins his walk to the driver’s side. While he can’t see it, you take a shaky breath. You quickly realized the mistake as the car smells just like him, and it makes you dizzy with a feeling you can’t label. Schlatt opens the driver's door and climbs in. He starts up his car but stops before he puts it in reverse.

“Do you want to get dinner with me?” His gaze is pleading, the same as when the professor asked you to tutor him. Except now, it was hopeful too.

“I’d love to.”

“You’d love to?” His voice is soft, but his gaze is intense. You nod, not confident your voice would be anything but a breathy agreement. He smiles wide and genuine, and your heart soars. You’ve never seen a smile like that from Schlatt, but you would do anything to make him do it over and over again.

Schlatt takes you to his favorite restaurant near campus, a small chicken wing place. He swore by the food. By the time the waiter had come with the check, both of your plates were entirely clean. You offered to help with the check, but he simply called you an idiot and handed the waiter his card. Dinner was full of laughs and Schlatt’s wide and full smile. The walk back to his car was slow, both of you wanting to put off the inevitable end of the night. When you get to the car, Schlatt once again opens the door for you, but this time offers you his hand as you step into the car. For balance. You try to rationalize with yourself.

Schlatt closes the door behind you and enters his side. He starts the car and his music floods the car. You can see the lights of the city shimmer through his windshield. The entire feels like magic.

“Do you want to get together tomorrow?” Schlatt asks you breaking the soft quiet and you feel your insides flutter. You look over towards him. He is watching his hands grip the steering wheel.

“You really can’t get rid of me.” You say smirking. Schlatt chuckles.

“As much as that is the truth, I also have some ideas for the professor’s project.” He looks over at you and leans on the middle console, his face coming within inches of yours. “And I would enjoy my tutors’ professional opinions.” He whispers. You glance down at his lips, unable to stop yourself as he speaks. When he finishes speaking, you look at his eyes, which are now watching your lips.

“That, uh,” You clear your throat and look through the windshield. “That sounds great.” Schlatt sighs lightly before shifting in his seat. He asks where you live and you tell him. You feel yourself cringe at how awkward the atmosphere has become. You try to talk a few times, but it never feels like the right moment or the right thing to say. He pulls in front of your place. You get out of the car and Schlatt does too. You look at him confused, and he smirks.

“I’m walking you to your door, least I can do for keeping you so late.” You smile and begin the walk towards your door.

When you finally get there, you hesitate before putting your key in the door, and turn to face Schlatt.

“Thank you again for tonight, today really. Iit’s been so,” You breathe in. “So wonderful.” Schlatt smiles at you but says nothing. “The game invite was more than enough, but then the jersey.” You continue needing to fill the silence. “Then you winning the game, which was amazing, and dinner and-” His lips on yours cut you off. The softness of his lips is contradicted by the slight scratch of his scruff against your face. You kiss back as soon as you understand what is happening, but he still pulls away too quickly.

“Sorry,” He licks his lips. “I just really, really wanted to kiss you.” You smile and pull him back to your lips. He kisses you back. This time, though, the both of you are confident. He grabs your waist and uses your gasp to let his tongue enter your mouth. The kiss becomes a fight for dominance mixed with clashing teeth. Your screaming lungs force you to pull away, and the both of you pant, catching your breaths.

“Do you want to come in?” You ask and he takes a sharp breath.

“That-” He kisses you again, gentler but still passionate. “That’s’ not why I kissed you.” You glanced up at him and smiled.

“I know.” He kisses you again, weighing his options.

“As much as I want to,” He said, grabbing the side of your face, forcing you to look at him. “I want to take you on a proper date. I told you; I’m a gentleman.”

“Well gentleman Schlatt,” He laughs at the name. “I will see you tomorrow.” You turned to put the key into the door, but he stopped you.

“Do you think I could have your number? That way we can actually plan tomorrow, and that date?” It was your turn to laugh, but you gave him your number and finally opened your door. As you entered, he turned away, but you called out to him.

“Will you text when you get home?” He smiles and nods and says goodnight before walking to his car.

You lean against the door and touch your lips that are swollen from Schlatt’s own. As you get ready for bed, your phone beeps.

Unknown Number: It’s Schlatt, I just got home.

You smile and type your reply

You: Thanks for letting me know. Thank you again for tonight.

Schlatt: It’s really not a problem, I enjoyed myself too, a lot.

Schlatt: As for tomorrow, the library is open on Sunday and it’s usually empty. We could meet there like usual?

You: That sounds like a plan, same time as usual?

Schlatt: Would noon work? I want to spend more than just an hour with you… Even if it is just doing history.

You: Noon sounds perfect. I’ll see you then. Goodnight :)

Schlatt: Goodnight Y/n

You’re in bed by the time Schlatt sends his last message and you can’t help but laugh and smile widely as your heart flutters.

The next morning, as you get ready, you can’t help but get a little more done up than you usually would. Figuring a skirt would help you look cute while also combatting the heat, nothing if not at least practical.

As you walked into the library, Schlatt was nowhere to be seen. You texted him, wondering where he was.

Schlatt: Walk towards the study rooms. I’m back in a corner. Was weirdly crowded earlier, the only seat I could find.

You followed Schlatt’s instructions, and you spotted him in a back corner hidden by bookshelves. He saw you at the same time and his eyes drifted down towards the skirt, watching your legs as you moved towards him. Maybe a valid third reason for the skirt, you thought to yourself.

“Dressed to impress, are we?” He asks as you sit across from him.

“Don’t know. Are you impressed?” Schlatt seems awestruck at your comment, flushing before nodding. You smirk. “What’s your project ideas?” Schlatt clears his throat.

“I was thinking I would do it on the effects of computer history both when they first came around and now.” His voice was soft, shy almost.

“I think,” you started. “That is a fantastic idea!” “Really?” “I was half expecting you to do something about baseball.” You admitted, and Schlatt laughed lightly.

“I thought about it, but I hate being predicable.” He smiled, and you reflected the look. “Do you want to come look?” You nodded and moved next to him to see his laptop. Schlatt lightly groaned as you sat next to him. You looked at him, worried.

“Everything okay?” He nods, embarrassed that the noise actually came out of him.

“Yeah, you just smell really nice.” It was now your turn to be embarrassed.

“Thank you,” you squeaked, putting your focus on the screen in front of you. Schlatt, however, grabbed your jaw, turning you to face him and kissed you. As he pulled away, he smirked at your fluttering eyelashes.

“Now,” he said, pulling up his presentation. “Time for history.” You nodded and focused in on his presentation. You started reading what he had done. And you felt his breath close to your neck.

“Schlatt,” you stuttered. “What are you doing?” he shushed you.

“Focus on history, sweetheart.” You took in a shaky breath as you tried to force yourself to focus back on his presentation. He kissed your neck and you couldn’t help the light whimper that left your throat. You could feel his smirk against your neck.

“When did you do all of this?” he kissed your neck again before moving back slightly.

“Last night when I got home.” His whispered words fanned across the skin of your neck. “I had to distract myself from thinking of certain propositions given to me last night.” You felt your neck get hot as the thought of your door way flashed in your mind.

“And here I thought I pushed too far.” You whispered. Schlatt shook his head. His hand fell to your knee, and you took a sharp breath in.

“Is this okay?”

“Schlatt, we’re in a library.”

“Y/n,” he said lowly, and a shiver went down your spine as he said your name. “I asked if this was okay, not where we are, my pretty thing.” The nickname made you close your eyes and subconsciously your thighs tightened together. Schlatt chuckled and his hand gripped your knee a little tighter. “As much as I take that as a good sign,” he moves up towards your ear before whispering. “I want to hear you say it.” You swallow even though your throat is dry.

“Yes,” you whisper after scanning the area around you for people. His hand moves further up your thigh.

“There’s no one back here.” His hand moves under your thigh before picking it up and draping it over his. “As long as you stay quiet.” He continues. With your thigh draped over his, he has better access further up your leg. “Come on, baby, keep reading.” His fingers trace circles on the inside of your thigh. Close enough to your heat that you're sure he can feel in on his hand. His hand grazes over your underwear and your breath hitches and your eyes close. “Sweetheart focus, I would hate to have to stop now.” You whimper and he shushes you lightly. “Maybe reading at loud would help keep your focus.” You inhale deeply.

“S-since the 1940s, computer engineers have followed.” His finger tips grazed over your clit through your underwear and you stuttered.

“F-f-followed,” Schlatt mocked, “I know you can read better than that.” Clenched around nothing at his mean words, and he pressed his fingertips harder into you. “Keep going.”

“Followed Moore’s law, which is the theory that computer switches halve in size every two years.” His fingers pushed your underwear to one side, feeling the wet that has pooled there and dragging his finger from your slit before lightly circling your clit.

“Take them off.” He whispered as you finished the slide. You stared at him wide eyed. He dragged his finger down, then up again to emphasise his point. “Stop being dumb. Take them off.” You nodded, removing your thigh from his, and moving your shaky hands up under your skirt before pulling down your underwear. He held out his hand, and you gave them to him, and he smirked before whispering, “Good girl.” Schlatt grabbed your thigh, moving it back to where it was before moving his hand back between your thighs. His hand hovered over your heat but not touching it. You looked at him, waiting for him to move, but he didn’t.

You looked back at his PowerPoint and began reading again. As you read, his hand moved. His finger dipped down before entering slowly. You did your best to keep your voice steady as his finger slowly pushed in and out of you. Each time he did, his finger curled in and out. As you finished another slide with no mistakes, he added another finger. The stretch stinging but was quickly soothed by how good he felt. As another slide finished, he used his thumb to circle your clit. The mix of his finger going in and out of you, matching the pressure against your sweet spot, was almost too much.

“S-Schlatt-”

“I know, pretty girl, you can do it.”

“In the 1920s, Nazi Germany transmitted secret messages.” His thumb sped up as he felt you clench around his fingers. “Alan Turing developed a computer machine to help decipher these messages,” your voice became higher pitched and airy as you got closer and closer to your edge. “This led to the development of the Turing Test, which tests a computer’s intelligence by asking it different question, it passes if the response can’t be distinguished from a human.” As you finished, Schlatt whispered in your ear.

“Let go, pretty girl.” As the words left his mouth, you felt your orgasim flood your veins. You put your hand over your mouth to stop the loud moan that wanted to escape. Schlatt panted lightly as he watched you fall apart. He pumped his fingers in you a few more times as you came back down. Removing his fingers from you, Schlatt popped them into his mouth, cleaning them off.

“How was it?” He asked, and you took a deep breath.

“Really good,” he smirked.

“I mean the PowerPoint.” you give him an embarrassed smile.

“Still the same answer.” You leaned up and kissed him, using your own hand to slide up his thigh. As you reached to touch his, what you could only assume was a painfully hard cock. Your phone alarm went off.

His head fell back and he let out a frustrated groan. He sat up and kissed you before standing up. You laughed at the tent in his sweatpants and he flushed, pulling his sweatshirt down as much as he could to cover it. He pulled his backpack on and walked out before coming back to kiss you one more time.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, doll.” You bite your lip and nod. You watch him leave before going to pack up your own things. As your still damp thighs meet, you remember.

That fucker still has my underwear.

#jschlatt x y/n #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt smut #jschlatt #schlatt #schlatt x reader #schlatt smut #That's all folks - I have spoken

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mysteriesmuse · 2 years

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Bedtime Bliss

I think that almost everyone in the fandom agrees that we’d simply steal all of Bakugo’s shirts to sleep in lol. Of course the oversized comfort can not be disputed!!

However, I’m the kinda person who thinks that Bakugo would still be just as enamored with you wearing your own pajamas. ———

Bakugou himself almost exclusively sleeps in his boxers alone. Occasionally throwing on a pair of sweatpants in the winter, but you his pretty little s/o, always wears a cute little outfit to bed. Your dresser in Bakugou’s apartment has changed to include only summer appropriate pjs bc Bakugou’s body runs so hot at all times!! You’ve got camisoles, ruffled shorts, and silk slips etc. A PLENTY!! 👏 If you slept in any more clothes, you’d surely wake up in the middle of the night to an uncomfortably clammy cuddle. So every night after your shower and incessantly loud session of blow drying your hair. You prance out of the bathroom into the bedroom with an undeniably pretty domestic aura. And Bakugou will wait every night, sitting against the bed board with his scared, tan chest gently rising and falling. Those broad shoulders of his finally released from damn next to his ears, to rest where they’re supposed to sit. His ash blonde hair a fuzzy mess, a pair of readers hanging off his nose as his fat fingers flick through the pages of his book. and when you DO waltz out of the bathroom into the bedroom those smouldering eyes will peek up at you from his reading, and his perfectly sharp and chubby cheekbones (which only get MORE attractive when he wears his glasses) only to soften when they land on you. Your skin all soft and supple, from the glowy sheen of your moisturizer. Your bare face all relaxed and your eyelashes all light and fluffy. the adorably sexy pjs from your summery collection that hang of your body exposing all your angelic angles. Especially the graceful curve of your legs as you make your way over to him. As you crawl into bed beside him and press a soft kiss to his shoulder. And Katsuki Bakugou grunts out his familiar sound of acknowledgment. Staring into your eyes with the tender hearth that rests behind the red curtain of feriousity that the world sees. - internally his heart beats a little faster, and does its signature flip for you. And you just beam up at him with that cover girl worthy smile. The grunt is all he can do with his heart caught in his throat. - but Bakugou was always better with his actions than his words, as he threads his fingers through your hair and presses a seeringly soft kiss to the corner of your smile.

Before your turn around and give him a real kiss full on the mouth muttering your cheeky, “you need a little chapstick babe.” all just to see the shiny little pout of his lips from the transfer of your honey chapstick

The tips of his ears turn pink as he turns and drops your book right onto your lap, grunting out a disgruntled and flustered, “Here.” As you giggle and he resumes reading his book. And the two of you lie in bed together, just like every night when Bakugou comes home early. (He purposely try’s to set his schedule up like this to enjoy this time with you) and you two sit quietly, shoulder to shoulder, with books in hand. You and Bakugou silently passing along your steaming mug of tea, fingers grazing, back and forth to the nightstand. . . . how it’s still steaming half and hour later always seems to escape your sleepy mind, as you sip the golden liquid, but Bakugou always takes mind to use his quirk and warms it up in his hand before wordlessly passing it back to you.

#bakugou katsuki #bakugou headcanons #bakugou x reader #katsuki x y/n #bakugou imagine #bnha #fanfic #this is so fluffy and self-indulgent 😭#I put so much domesticity in this and I think it fits him so well like idk #yes I put chapstick on before going to bed!

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thefiery-phoenix · 1 year

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YANDERE VILLAIN DEKU X READER

You were a 5 year old cute adorable shy little girl but wasn't afraid to protect your loved ones. You were going to the playground to practice using your quirk which by the way, was Nuclear Explosion. you were about to play on the swing and just then, you saw a certain green broccoli haired boy getting bullied by a loud angry ash blonde who suspiciously, looked like a rat or a hedgehog on crack

''Face it Deku! I'm better than you and you're just a quirkless pathetic waste of space who will NEVER surpass me and don't waste your time aiming to be a hero'' snarled the blonde as the green haired kid looked like as if he was about to cry. The blonde haired boy pushed him and he fell and that's what made your blood boil in anger.

''Hey! Stop bullying him you big meanie!'' you yelled and stuck your tongue at him. ''What did you say to me you damn extra?'' shouted the blonde kid. You fired your nuclear explosions at him and his 3 goons and they left in a hurry after that. "I'll get you for this you damn extra, whatever the hell your name is!'' he shouted. ''I have a NAME and it's Y/N you big moron!'' You helped the green haired kid get up and he had some tears in his eyes and was clutching an all might figurine, someone who you were fond of as well

''Are you all right?'' you asked the green haired kid as he nodded and stuttered that he was fine. He introduced himself as Izuku Midoriya and the blonde who bullied him was Kaachan or Katsuki bakugou. ''Come on, I'll help you clean up, you have a pretty big bruise there on your knee'' and led him towards a park bench. You patched it up with a band-aid as Izuku saw your tiny soft magical hands at work. He turned red whenever you touched him and his face was becoming flushed and his heart beat faster than ever. ''Are you okay? Do you have a fever?'' you asked him and touched his forehead and he shook his head vigorously. You both became best friends after that and you stood up for him whenever Katsuki bullied him. Little did you know, even Katsuki had grown feelings towards you. Fast forward to where you guys are in middle school cuz, I'm too lazy (lol)

Izuku's POV: Here I am, waiting for Y/N chan in front of her house so we can go to school together. I really LOVE and enjoy having her around. She always helps me when Kaachan bullies me and she's really kind and caring. But... why does my chest hurt so much when she talks to other people and gives them her attention? I hate it when Y/N spends her precious time with someone else.... They don't deserve her. They don't deserve her attention. I wish I could be strong so I could protect her just like a knight in shining armor and all that.

''Izuku!'' chirped a cheerful and yet soft female voice snapping me out of my thoughts. It was Y/N looking at me with her beautiful eyes. "Shall we get going?'' she asked me. "S-sure'' I stuttered. We were on the way to our middle school and we witnessed a fight between our idol All Might and a villain. ''Oh my gods, LOOK!'' gasped Y/N and clutched my arm looking nervous. Of course, I turned pink but she didn't see it, thank goodness. We were watching the fight and finally All Might won. I wanted to talk to him and I asked Y/N to go on without me even though I was reluctant to leave her alone. I didn't want anything bad to happen to her but..... I needed to talk to All Might alone. "All Might, do-d- do you think I could still become a hero without a quirk?'' and when All Might gave me his answer, it shattered my heart into a million pieces. He said I couldn't be a hero without a quirk and I was devastated! All my hopes and dreams crushed within less than a second! I went to school feeling like garbage since that's exactly how I felt right now. Maybe Kaachan was right..... maybe I shouldn't be a hero..... I'm just a pathetic quirkless nobody. I went to school and when our homeroom teacher announced that me, Y/N and Kaachan wanted to get into the UA, people started snickering at us. Well, at me mostly. Y/N asked them to shut up and then got into a heated argument with Katsuki and finally ended up in detention, along with him. I have to admit, Y/N gotten bolder and it's really cute and adorable.

But I wasn't going to let MY darling Y/N chan be ALONE with Kaachan for an ENTIRE hour. Who knows what he's going to do to her? So, in order for her not to be lonely and to keep an eye on Kaachan to make sure he doesn't try anything with my puppy, I NEED to get detention too. So, I purposefully looked like as if I wasn't paying attention to the teacher and what do you know? I got detention as well....

The bell finally rang and soon, it was time for detention. Y/N headed out and told me she'd wait for me at the detention room. I was about to follow her when Kaachan pulled me back by my collar and hissed, ''Stay the HELL away from Y/N. She's MINE and I LOVE her, you understand, you DAMN nerd?'' and burned my wrists a little. ''Kaachan stop it, I love her too'' I said and that's how burns decorated my body yet again. ''Just stay away from her and why not take a swan dive off a roof? If you're lucky you'll wake up with a quirk in your NEXT life'' and burned my hero analysis notebook to ash. Y/N chan comforted me during detention and swore that she'd pulverize him to death but I shook my head. Soon, it was time for us to go home but I didn't go home. No. I went somewhere and met someone who changed my life forever and made me see things in a different perspective..... That day had completely changed me and no doubt, my darling Y/N chan would certainly have tears in her eyes but I'll wipe them off and comfort her.... After all... I'm the ONLY one she needs.....

Y/N's POV: It' been 2 years since my best friend Izuku went missing. I never liked calling him 'Deku' since it meant useless and it was given to him by that hot headed hedgehog Katsuki. I swore to myself that I'd gain my pro hero licence and the second I do, I would do WHATEVER I could to find him and get him back. His mother was out of her mind with worry every single day and I would comfort her before going to the UA, the most prestigious school in Japan for upcoming heroes. Unfortunately, even Kaachan got in too. I went to Mrs. Midoriya's house and comforted her and went to the UA. Seeing the building always made me have glistening tears in my eyes since it was our dream to be in the UA together and now.... that was all just a mirage. I made my way to class 1a and while Katsuki was glad that Izuku didn't come to the UA, I told him to shut up. ''This all your fault. You always used to bully him and its because of you he's.... he's gone'' I said angrily as Katsuki replied, ''Tch... why do you even care about that quirkless nerd?'' ''He was my FRIEND!'' I shouted and by now, everyone in class 1a turned to stare at us but I didn't care

Classes dragged on as usual and when we went to the grounds for hero training, we heard the school's security's alarms blaring loudly. ''Quick! Everyone, stay in the classrooms! The pro heroes will ensure you're safe! There are villains attacking!'' yelled Present Mic over the speakers and just as we were about to make a run for it, a purple portal opened up in front of us and out came a buff well built looking guy with a green mask, with a blue haired crusty looking person and a blonde haired girl wearing a school uniform

The green haired guy removed his mask and I recognized his freckles along with his emerald eyes and his green hair. Slowly it was starting to hit me.... Izuku, my dear friend was a.... villain!!??

''Izuku?'' I whispered and looked shocked as hell and so did Katsuki. "What the HELL you DAMN nerd?'' ''Ah.... an old reunion among childhood friends. How sweet'' said Izuku smiling sickly. ''Stay back'' threatened Aizawa. '' Izuku, why did you become a.... a villain?'' I asked him with tears in my eyes. '' Ah... my darling Y/N chan. Sweetheart, who wouldn't become one after they've been let down by their idol and on top of that being bullied for being quirkless? That arrogant ego filled jerk KATSUKI bullied me till NO ENDS!! And heck! Even my own MOM gave up on me after she found out I was quirkless! But Y/N... you were the only one who gave me hope.... You made me happy, you always supported me, cheered me on.... Join me Y/N... Join me and I'll make sure to treat you like the princess that you deserve to be treated. To hell with this corrupted tainted hero society!'' he roared but I shook my head and ran away from him. ''Y/N chan, love, You can't escape me~'' and released some purple fog all around us. Then, I felt something hit my head and pretty soon, the only only thing I could sense was people yelling and shouting as my consciousness slowly drifted.....

3rd Person POV: You woke up on a surprisingly comfortable bed but your hands were chained to the bed's headboard. You started hollering through your gag, making muffled noises. Soon a blue haired man and your friend Izuku appeared. ''Ask you girlfriend to join us or die.'' said the crusty looking man, as he removed your gag and you yelled, "I'm NEVER joining the LOV! Izuku, this ISN'T YOU! Why are you doing this!? How could you?'' you screamed at him with tears in your eyes. You couldn't use your quirk since he had placed a quirk canceling collar on you

He unchained you and rubbed your back in a somewhat soothing manner, waiting for you to calm down. ''Do... do you have any idea how WORRIED your mom was'' you asked him, as he quickly kissed you on your lips in order to shut you up. You tried fighting him, but gave in to him in the end. He broke the kiss and cuddled you and whispered hoarsely.... '' I love you Y/N my precious doll.... your MINE and ONLY MINE, no one else's..... And you will learn to love me at some point.....

BONUS SCENE: Toga: Uhh.... Dabi, you Do realize that if you're planning to flirt with Y/N Deku's gonna murder you, right?

Dabi: Yeah you stab queen, I figured that out, but I'm not going to lie, she was pretty good looking

Shigaraki: You're all idiots.

Izuku: What. the HELL. did you say about MY Y/N??

Dabi: Uhhh....n-nothing. She's absolutely PERFECT for you and she's like my little sister. (Chuckles nervously)

Izuku: (smiles in a way no creepy serial psychotic serial killer would) Good to know.

P.S: This convo takes place AFTER you're nicely sleeping on DEKU's bed, END OF STORY

#yandere bnha #yandere bnha x reader #yandere deku #yandere deku x reader #yandere villain deku x reader #yandere villain deku #yandere villain deku scenarios #yandere villain deku oneshots #yandere villain deku imagines #yandere villain deku headcanons #yandere izuku midoriya x reader #yandere izuku midoriya

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5iyoomi · 2 months

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Okay, could I make a request for Dimitri, Felix, Ashe, and Sylvain with a male reader?

Basically having them react to meeting the reader again after the 5 year timeskip and becoming shocked by how handsome he had become.

Hope this is good, thank you!

When They See How You’ve Changed

characters: Dimitri, Felix, Ashe, Sylvain warnings: none! tried to keep it as spoiler free as possible A/N: Hii I went with a situation where they aren't dating but like each other in some capacity (though I did use their s support images but shh) so hopefully it's what you were looking for! sorry if these are kinda short... I think it's obvious who my fav is tho LOL wc: 1,780

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Dimitri

The first time he sees you again, he really can't believe it

It takes him a moment to realize he isn't hallucinating, that you really are standing right in front of him, in the flesh

Once he does, he starts to notice just how different you look. Time's been kind to you, from the sharp jut of your jawline to the firmness of your body when you hold your hand out for him, your muscles more defined since the last time he'd seen you

He thinks you're even more handsome than you were back then, but he stumbles over himself trying to get the words out

He's changed a lot in the past few years too, he's sure, but with you it's like he can't take his eye off of you for even a second

He gets shy if you point out his staring, though he makes sure to let you know why he is in his typical fashion

"What's wrong, is there something on my face?" You ask teasingly, knowing that's not at all why he's been gazing at you as if he was bewitched.

Long, blonde hair nearly obscures his one good eye, and he shakes his head, besting you in height now even though he was the shorter one all those years ago.

"No- it's just..." Dimitri starts, slowly stepping closer to you. He reaches a gloved hand out towards you almost hesitantly, jumping when you gently clasp it between your own.

If you didn't know any better, you'd say his feelings for you hadn't changed. Yours hadn't either. They'd only grown stronger, brought back to the surface with the shy smile that lights up his somber expression. "You've really grown, haven't you? It's a little hard to take in."

You haven't seen a smile as sincere as that one in a long while, his fair skin dusted lightly with pink, and it makes your heart race, knowing that he's this nervous because of you. It feels like no time's passed at all, honestly not when his touch reminds you of the countless battles you've fought by his side.

A shout from across the lands to watch your back, or a comforting squeeze of your shoulder when he noticed you were upset or stressed out. "You have too, you know. Remember when we used to spend our nights in the garden together? I wonder how that place is now."

"Maybe so," he says, taking the opportunity to interlock your fingers together. He softens when you don't untangle from him, something unspoken lingering in the air between you that threatens to break the longer you both stand there. "And how could I ever forget?"

Felix

5 years after everything went down, you and Felix find each other in the most unexpected of places. He hadn't changed much, still sporting that same neutral expression with his hair being slightly shorter than it was

He realizes you have, though. A lot, actually. You'd gotten a fair bit taller, any lingering baby fat now gone and making way for the face of a man he's always been quite fond of

He isn't as straightforward with what he wants to say most of the time, so it comes off as him avoiding eye contact with you if you try to keep it

You might have to prod him a little bit to get him to say what he's thinking, you might not. It all depends on his mood

But the one thing you know for sure is that he keeps eyeing you when he thinks you aren't looking. You know him well enough to notice little things like that

You were one of the few consistents in his life, after all, somebody that was on par with his skills and put up with him where others had a piece to say about his personality

It's why you're not surprised when he instead says:

"You know, you still owe me that rematch."

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms over your chest with a small smirk. "Oh? I would've thought you'd forgotten," you ask, thinking about the last time you'd trained with him.

You'd narrowly won, deciding then to devote extra time to nip your weaknesses in the bud. It wouldn't be a fair fight if you didn't try. "It has been a while since our last match."

Felix chuckles, readjusting the sword in his holster and shrugging his shoulders. "I mentioned before how you were a worthy opponent, back when you agreed to continue to train with me." He says, reflecting on that promise you made to him. It's not something you could forget that easily, and you know he wouldn't, either. "That much hasn't changed."

You hum, "Alright then, I'll spar with you, but if I win you have to tell me what's been on your mind."

He must be able to catch what you really mean when you say that, but if he has any objections, then he doesn't voice them. He simply nods, gracing you with one of his rare smiles that you would die 20 times over to see again.

"Deal. And if I win, then you have to treat me to dinner."

Ashe

He is SUCH a sweetheart I was just rewatching his supports but anyways....

When he sees you, it's needless to say that he becomes a blushing mess. There standing the one that swept him off his feet was you in all your glory, bright and even more mature looking than he remembers you being

He's quick to tell you that you're handsome, even if it takes everything in him to say it without stuttering

His words are always so sincere, nothing hiding behind them like a lot of the people you've met and gotten to know over the years

So when you gently cut him off before he starts to ramble too much, he looks at you sheepishly, calmly asking if you were busy after this

He'll insist on treating you to some tea and sweets even if you say he doesn't need to. He won't call it a date, per se, he's mostly just eager to finally be able to catch up with you, but if you do, he gets super flustered

"A d-date? I m-mean- if you see it that way, then...." Ashe trails off, nervously tucking a loose strand of gray hair behind his ear. He walks side by side with you down the busy, crowded streets, tensing up when your hand brushes his. "I guess I can't complain, can I?"

"Do you?" You grin, eyes more focused on him than the scenery around you. Different tenders trying to get people to buy their wares while others chat about this and that fill your ears, whispers of wind sending a shiver up your spine.

He whistles some old tune to himself, quiet enough that you would've missed it if you weren't so close. He glances from you back down to the gravel on the ground that crunches beneath his feet, and then mutters. "Only if... only if you don't think that's weird."

"I don't." You give him a playful nudge with your elbow, leaving it at that.

It doesn't take very long for you to make it to the cafe he had picked out. He said that it was a nice place he'd found by accident one time, that the prices weren't too bad (mainly so that you didn't feel bad) and they'd definitely have something you'd like. It was sweet, how he tended to think of others like that, especially you.

Thousands of years could pass, the sun and moon turning into nothing but distant memories and Fódlan something of the past, and yet nothing would ever get rid of how you felt for him.

The two of you find a nice seat in the back, near an open window with a fair amount of sunlight and away from a group of friends in the front. You wait until he's scanning his menu to peek up from yours, smiling when his eyes quickly find yours anyway. "You sure have a knack for finding hidden treasures. This place is nice."

"I suppose so, but it's nicer with you here."

Sylvain

This man is already a flirt but even though it's toned down a bit later on, he doesn't cut any corners

If he thought you were attractive back then, then he thinks you must be on par with a prince now, your frame well-maintained and becoming of such a title

The first time he sees you again, he's nearly starstruck, blown away by just how much you've changed since the last time you'd talked. He won't hold back in saying that, either

"Well look at you, I'm surprised you aren't surrounded by ladies yet" while he thinks about how to get you to see his words aren't empty

You might think it's just his usual antics, waving them off with a roll of your eyes and taking another bite of the food on your plate

But then he looks at you. Really looks at you, brown eyes gazing into yours, and you have to admit it makes you feel some sort of way

"Come on, now you're just buttering me up." You say, stabbing your fork and knife into your steak and cutting a small slice. You bring it to your lips, feeling more than seeing his foot kick yours underneath the table. Whether it's an accident or on purpose, you can't say, but you wouldn't put the latter past him.

"Not at all, really." He ignores his own, more untouched plate while you talk in between bites, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as he twirls a strand of red hair between his fingers. "Can't you just trust me on this one?"

You chew the piece in your mouth and swallow, pointing your fork at him accusatively, but he doesn't seem offended in the slightest. "Uh-uh, you're the same as ever, Sylvain."

"But I'm serious! I've always thought you were handsome." He exclaims, pouting when you laugh at his clear desperation. "I don't only think of girls, y'know."

You squint in doubt, but you decide to humor him just this once. If he meant what he said, then he'd have no trouble saying it again or proving it to you. You'd take either, truth be told. "Really?"

He nods fast enough that you think his head might fall off his shoulders, a determined glint in his eyes that tells you you're in for a ride. "Let me show you what I mean after we eat, then, I'll take you anywhere you wanna go, just say the word. It's all on me today."

#🧩 ── 5iyoasks #answered #fe3h #fire emblem #fire emblem three houses #fe3h x reader #fire emblem x reader #three houses x reader #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #felix hugo fraldarius #ashe ubert #sylvain jose gautier #dimitri x reader #felix x reader #ashe x reader #sylvain x reader

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shewhowas39 · 2 months

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get to know June (my durge)

so i've been working on Juniper & Starlight for a couple months now and idk just thought it'd be fun to do a little write up on June, my dark urge.

***

Name: Juniper Acadia (tho she currently only remembers her first name)

Pronouns: she/her

Age: about 26

Race: i mean, technically Bhaalspawn, but she appears to be a half-elf.

Class: Wizard, School of Divination subclass (tho she does multiclass later, but that's a spoiler)

Alignment: neutral good

Highest Stat: intelligence (closely followed by wisdom)

Lowest Stat: strength (she's more dexterous)

Love Interest: Astarion

Best Friend: Shadowheart (and Scratch)

Height: 5'11" (181cm)

Body Type: June is built like a runner, so slim but not skinny, and with long legs that are more toned than the rest of her body.

Skin: very pale. about as pale as Astarion but with pink undertones.

Hair: Dark, ashy blond and VERY curly, falling to about her mid-back. her hair is thick and there's a lot of it, so it's probablyt he feature most people notice about her first.

Eyes: her eyes are large and round, but what stands out about them is that they are set quite far apart on her face and are an unusually dark, vivid blue.

Face Claim: a young Michelle Pfeiffer, but with rounder, darker blue eyes, somewhat paler skin, and MUCH curlier hair.

Other Notable Appearance Details: her black eyeliner/mascara is almost always running from where she's been crying. she also has Ilmater's holy symbol tattooed on the back of her neck, though she currently has no memory of when, why, or how she got this.

Favorite Color: deep, vibrant purple (like amethyst) as well as sort of a magenta-y pink.

Greatest Passion: history! she loves all knowledge. she's a smart cookie who is very curious about everything, but her passion is history.

Biggest Fear: her own inner darkness/bloodlust. she's terrified of the things she is capable of.

Some Random Facts:

the way her urges and her divination magic manifests causes June to feel like she sometimes experiences time out of order. the present often feels like a dream, making it hard to tell her hallucinations and prophetic visions from reality. it's not fun.

prior to the amnesia, June worked as a sort of tour guide in Baldur's Gate, showing the city's visitors the most notable historical sites. her favorite was the cemetery. (this is also how she found victims.)

her accent would be the same as a norhern Louisiana accent in the real world. it stands out among most people on the Sword Coast, but it's from a small, rural town where she was raised by her adoptive family.

her adoptive family were also half-elves, both of wood elven descent. she had two siblings, both also named after types of trees: Willow and Ash.

June has two core beliefs that drive her: first, never lie to a friend. even if it's dangerous, even if it hurts, once someone is her friend, she feels she owes them the truth. second, everyone deserves a chance at redemption....except for her. (and also probably Cazador.)

she cries a lot. to the point where it's kind of a joke. sometimes it's out of fear, sometimes out of empathy, and sometimes just becaus she's so freaking overhwelmed by the constnat shifts in time and place and her inability to graps onto reality. thus the running mascara at all times.

so that's June. she's currently being a sweet, bloodthirsty, nerdy hot mess in my longfic as well as in a few smutty oneshots you can find on my Ao3.

this isn't a tag, exactly, but if anyone else wants to hop on and use this format, i highly encourage it! i love reading about other people's durges and tavs.

#bg3 #durge oc #bg3 oc #baldur's gate 3 #the dark urge bg3 #juniper & starlight

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empressgeekt · 9 days

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Could you tell us more about brozone brothers children (next generation) in your aus. I know that Branch and Poppy have a daughter and Floyd has an adopted son (Veneer reincarnation?)

Branch and Poppy:

They have three kids, two boys and a girl.

Rose, is their only daughter and first born. She has Branch's temperament, being more on the calm side (as and adult as a kid she was a lavender version of her mom), however is extremely passionate like her mom about keeping her subject safe and happy. In terms of appearance, she has dark blackberry purple hair, and her father's eyes, however most of her facial features are like that of her great grandmother, Rosiepuff, hence her name. She loves story books and archery.

Their second child is Flint. He was adopted after a flooding disaster in Rock Hallow left him orphaned, and Branch pulled him from the rubble. He was quiet as a kid and quiet as an adult, often feeling awkward with his genre identity as a Rock troll raised by a Pop family. He has black messy hair, muted purple complexation, and blood red eyes. He play guitar and does metal work for a hobby.

The final child is their youngest, Ash. He's a quirky kid, bit of a dreamer, off in his own world most of the time (in Burning Branches this is explained by him sharing a strong connection to the world's hidden music like his dad). He has royal blue hair, pink eyes, and peach skin just a shade in between his mom and grandfather. He loves to pencil sketch, with out color.

Clay and Viva:

They have twins, and after that they stop, because those kids are a combination of Clay's brains and Viva's chaotic energy, they are wild tornado like trollings who are far too smart for their own good. They had nearly destroyed the village on a number of occasions.

Their twins, are Cricket, their son, and Calypso, their daughter. These two are inseparable, and almost identical in appearance. Their pale purple trolls, who are both born blonds, but Cricket's curls go green as he gets older, and have bright pink eyes. Their hobbies include story times and setting up traps around their house and village.

John and Delta dawn

If they end up together, they would have two children. Both of which would have hooves but only two feet.

Chip is their son, he looks like a purple haired version of his mom. He's an adventures boy, always finding trouble. And loves to bake.

Perry Kate, is their daughter, and she's red headed version of her father, with her mom's eyes. She's a bit of an attention hog, loving being in the spot light, and a total daddy's girl. She becomes a song writer and singer like her dad.

Floyd (and maybe Jovi)

He ends up with two kids.

Vinyl is his eldest son, that he found as an abandoned egg on a river bank. Vinyl a minty green reggaetón troll, with black and gold patches on his body. Along with blue eyes and green and gold dreds for hair. He's mellow and smart, but also very nervus at times (He's also Veneer's reincarnation so he feels a lot of guilt for his past life, making him very loyal to his family).

Besides Vinyl, Floyd also has a bio kid. His daughter Piper (usually with my OC Jovi, who is a mixed troll, Rock and Celtic). She's a smiley yet calm person, however also has a very protective anger streak. Her fur is a deep royal blue, with sky blue hair with hot pink streaks (and hot pink star spots and a single marble horn like Jovi). She loves music, however was born with extremely damaged vocal chords rendering her mute. So she learned violin and make the instrument sing for her. She signs to communicate with others however it is rather difficult to get others to listen to her.

Bruce...Does not need anymore kids.

#trolls #questions and answers #thank you for the question!#trolls qna #field of forgetmenots au #fof qna #burning branches au #bb qna #trollings #broppy #brozone #cliva #dawndory #original character

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i-spy-with-my-lethal-eye · 2 years

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A Promo stained in blood.

*You were going on about your business until you came across a Television giving a gruesome news report. The scene is at a PizzaHut Restaurant.*

News Reporter: “We are here at PizzaHut where a horrific scene has occurred. The murder of all the restaurant’s staff along with many of it’s customers in a horrific massacre. Only three survivors were found at the scene. A young man with two little kids by his side. We are about to question him on the scene now.” *The camera moves over to a boy with red and blonde hair. He had an eye patch, a facial scar, and a purple eye. He was wrapped in some bandages as two kids was seen hugging him while whimpering.* “Tell us, young man. What is your name?”

“B-Bastion. I’m telling you man, i-It was horrible, man. W-We just came in to enjoy some pizza when suddenly some deranged maniac came in and started killing everyone! All because the employee had the wrong toppings on their pizza! It’s madness! Scared the hell out of my siblings and I. I did my best to stop the killer, but-” *The young man grown in pain as he grips his stomach. A red stain appears on the bandages.*

“BIG BRO!” *The two kids were on the verge of tears as Bastion fell over, with the doctors coming over to tend to his wounds.*

News Reporter: “Such a brave young man. We’ll have more to tell as the story unfolds. Back to you, Ken.”

Ken: “Thanks Barbie. As of this moment, no clues have arrived pointing to the identity of the murderer in question nor their whereabouts. So for now, stay vigilant and be careful. If you find any clues regarding any potential suspects, please inform the police immediately. We’ll have more after his commercial break.” *The report ends there as it goes to a random commercial. Someone stands next to you, looking at the screen.*

“Bloody Lance.” *Hm? Does he know something about the crime scene? Do you question him about it?*

@the-vampire-den @mikado-sannoji @ask-ultimate-personas @ask-ultimate-fashionista @ask-the-ultimate-entomologist @ask-pregame-v3 @silently-lying @dranother-memory @fallen-liar @the-purple-hero @hoshi-neko-hikari @hopeless-protagonist @seven-crimes-and-punishments @the-robot-family @the-real-natsumi-kuzuryuu @kittensofhokkaido @ultimate-skier @ultimate-waifu-bait @ultimate-name-not-found @ask-theshadowcyborg @ask-the-ultimate-cosplayer @the-plushie-togami-sisters @perfect-bloodcovered-family @pick-and-shovel-laborer @expired-sugar @monsters-of-all-your-fears-blog @ichi-peachy @ashes-of-desire @hopeful-symbols @sinless-slaughter @sinning-harmony @sinistcr-kxrma @oddblogfullofoddmuses @thehypnoticsnakedomain @thepersonaking56 @rxnowned-vxmpire-hxnter @tobys-multiverse-official @hinokamiikaguraa @sshoukinokamii @wwindblumee @fragmented-liar @just-another-harem @motherkuma-and-monokubs @demons-for-darling @demon-queen-lilith @ask-shslpianist @alonelymechanic @bloodstains-and-bloodsuckers @the-wonder-sisters @yui-samidare-returns @your-pink-party-pony @y0u-f4il3d-m3 @little-miss-succubus @class-105 @the-real-kokichi-ouma @ultimate-little-liars @mercy-of-the-ashes @ask-the-ultimate-cosplayer @japanese-ultimateautism

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soleilandpeaches · 1 year

Text

mi mariposa esta con mi

KeigoxFem!Reader

synopsis: Keigo just wants to unwind after a long day and it seems you do too. Why don’t you help each other out?

warnings: use of drugs, handjobs, smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up!), toothrotting fluff

song title inspo: Painted Lady by late night drive home

@keikiri-kitten: ask and you shall receive

Puffs of smoke billow from between pink lips and flared nostrils. Eyes swimming in warm pools of honey now rimmed red, his long eyelashes flutter against his sun-kissed cheeks, dotted with starry freckles after a long day in the sun. Pushing back his messy, windswept hair, short strips of blonde gently falling back into place the further up he drags his hand.

A short joint rests gently between his pointer and thumb, he pulls it away from his face to let out another sigh of smoke and bliss. Slumped against the couch you share, he’s still dressed in his hero attire, his jacket hanging off one of your dining chairs. A movie plays in front of him but he feels too lost in his high to continue watching, besides, he knows you’ll be home soon anyway.

The shutting of your car door alerts him before the vibrations of your footsteps or the click and turn to your door. He feels a smile creep its way across his cheeks, dimples following in its wake. He’s been waiting for you all this time; he can’t wait to have you.

“Hey Babe…” your exasperated sigh signals him of your long day; you’re ready to unwind for the night, he concludes.

“Hey Baby,” he all but slurs in your direction, his body too heavy to stand and greet you with a hug and a kiss like he usually does. If you notice, you refuse to comment on it, causing him to frown. Don’t you miss him? He supposes you’re too overworked to notice or give him attention.

To his surprise, you make your way over to him, sandwiching his face between your hands and pulling his face to meet your lips with his own. He can’t hold back his satisfied grin as he attempts to kiss you back. He feels the vibrations from his chest as he purrs happily, he feels you smile against him in response.

Once you pull away, he eyes you carefully, his unoccupied hand coming to rest upon your waist as his other dabs the ashes of the joint onto his spare asher.

“Long day, pretty girl?” He better get quick into buttering you up if he plans to have you moaning for him later tonight. Not that he doesn’t find you beautiful—of course not. Your hair is pulled into a claw-clip, strands of hair that were once tucked away now framing your pretty face. There’s definitely a reason he keeps himself in line to satisfy you.

“Yeah…” You let go of him and pull away, much to his dismay. You turn away to saunter towards your bedroom, “I’m gonna go wash up; I’ll be right back to join you.”

Pleased, he relaxes back into the cushions, ready to patiently wait for your return. He entertains the idea of joining you but his weighted body decides against it.

“Make sure you think of me.” He teases just before you leave him to his own devices—you chuckle. Happy he at least got to make you laugh, he turns his attention back to his movie, giggling a lot more than he usually would.

You re-enter in your little tank top and snug booty shorts, you smell of vanilla and strawberries; his dick twitches in anticipation. Silently cursing at the effect you have on him, he reaches for you, wordlessly inviting you to lay on top of him. And you do, slumping sleepily into his arms, you reach for his joint to take an inhale of your own.

Absentmindedly rubbing at your arms, he feels you relax into him. He nuzzles his nose into your hair, placing a gentle kiss upon you. He really has the prettiest girl.

“Keigo?” He feels you mumble into his chest.

“Hm?” He blinks open his eyes to gaze at you, nothing but love reflecting back to you.

“You’re hard.” You state matter-of-factly with a short giggle.

“You always make me hard.” He plays along, hands roaming down to hold you by your ass, giving a playful squeeze.

You let out a loud laugh, your giggles echoing throughout the living space and his head. He laughs along with you until your breaths even and your hands unclutch from his arms.

He hums thoughtfully as your nails trace patterns into his skin, watching as your eyes remain enraptured with his body. You wiggle your hips, your eyes trailing upwards and dancing between his as he lifts his hips to meet yours. His hands remain low on your hips, thumbing at your waistline as he stares down at you, daring you to make the first move.

He feels your body start to warm in your abashed state, you bite your lip to cage the nervous giggle threatening to escape. He wonders how long you’ve been together—how long you’ve been sleeping together, and how shy you still get when he attempts to fluster you. Though he guesses he can’t say much. After all, butterflies still beat their wings in his belly when you tease him.

Abandoning your previous state, your hands trail up his chest and around his neck, creeping up to his cheeks just as you did before. Your body moves upwards just as your hands do until you’re fully seated on his lap, grinding your hips into his.

“Mmf—“ Keigo lets out a short moan in surprise, choking it back as he purses his lips. It’s his turn to grow hot, once golden cheeks tinting red at your subtle attempt to dominate him. You thumb at his lips, pulling them back to lean in for a kiss, continuing to grind against his hardening dick.

He’s fully moaning into the kiss as your tongue prods for entrance. He allows you—of course—whimpering as your hands card through his hair, twirling the wheat-colored strands as you fight back a smile. He wants to pull away, flip you over and teach you a lesson, but damn do you feel good.

It’s been a long day. He decides, content to let you use him as you please. You don’t seem surprised at his submission—you knew he liked it. You needed something to take your frustration out on, and he was obedient in letting you.

Clothes were quickly discarded as you pump his cock unhurriedly. He squirms in pleasure beneath your hardened gaze, his breath becoming shallow as he moans helplessly, his brain foggy as he begs for you.

“Please Baby…” His moans choking off into silent whines as his hips continue to desperately rock into your fist. “Please!”

You refuse to tease him any longer, your own patience dwindling swiftly. Leaning forward, your chests and lips meet in fervor. You grip him by his base, quickly guiding him to your dripping pussy before easing him inside. Your lips part as you groan into each other's mouths, hands hopelessly pawing at each other as you situate yourself on his cock.

You moan at the feeling of his cock twitching inside of you, immediately rocking your hips back and forth to chase the pleasure. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you allow your forehead to rest against his as your noses brush against each other. You both smile, letting out happy chuckles as your lips meet over-and-over for sweet pecks. You can’t seem to get enough of each other.

Slowly rising and falling, Keigo’s hands rub attentively up and down your waist, occasionally coming to grope at your breasts.

“Keigo…” The sound of his name never sounds as beautiful as when you moan it for him. He responds with gasps of your own, arms reaching to entangle themselves around your middle to coax you into his chest. His face buries itself into your neck, teeth coming to clamp down as he uses his feet to push himself into you.

He’s groaning into your neck, teeth tightening as he pummels his cock into you repeatedly, eyes sewn shut at the overwhelming pleasure of your hot and sopping cunt. You’re practically wailing into his ear as he peeks an eye open to admire the milky ring at the base of his cock, watching in bliss as he fucks you.

“Oh my God! Fuck! Attagirl!” He’s leaning back against the coach, hand coming down onto your ass for a loud smack!

“Yes! Ride that cock, Angel.” Your head bobs back-and-forth as you nod, your hands balancing themselves on his chest. He grips your wrists tight, holding you down against him as he peers up at you, gaze hard and stern.

“Look at me.” He demands, hips roughly meeting yours, jolting your body forward as you yelp in surprise. You blink your eyes open to oblige him, squirming underneath his cold glare.

“Feels good, huh? Feels—hah—good, Dove? Hm?” His tone attempts to sound grim, yet his whimpers of pleasure fail to accommodate.

“Yes! You—you make me f-feel so good, Keigo.” He smirks at your admission, gleefully watching you keen, your body convulsing as he forces you against him. He can feel himself reaching his climax, permanently keeping his hips lifted to pump into with swift, short strokes.

“Gonna cum inside you, Baby. Gonna fuck my cum inside you.” He lets his head fall back, lewd cries falling from his raw and red lips, his tongue daring to slip from his mouth.

“Please please please please!” You beg shamelessly, he knows your thighs are probably burning so he goes back to forcing your hands in his, using them as leverage to ram himself into you. He’s beaming at the sound of your slutty pussy squelching noisily through the room.

“Shit! Cumming!” Letting out a final groan, he forces you down all the way on his cock as he feels your pussy twitch around him.

“Holy shit, Babe, yes.” You whimper softly as he pulls out, cum spilling out of you and onto his pants but he doesn’t care.

“Fuck, good girl.” He praises, planting kisses along your neck and up to your cheek. He watches curiously as you reach over to grab the forgotten joint to relight it. You flick the lighter one, two, three times before a tiny flame flickers to light, illuminating your face in a delicate glow. Placing the lighter down after taking a long inhale, you lean forward, nudging your lips to part his as your empty hand reaches to caress his face adoringly. You blow smoke into his mouth and into his lungs, grinning as he pets you.

“You’re so sexy…” Peck. “I love you so fucking much.” Peck. “My slutty girl.” Peck. Your kisses turn sloppy and careless as you sink back down onto him. He chuckles deeply, quickly scooping you up by your ass to carry you back into your room.

“Can’t get enough of me? Hm?” Your silly giggles provoking those frivolous butterflies to dance inside him. He buries himself into your neck again as he hugs you close, hopefully willing them away but your hand is in hair again, stroking tenderly as you place a careful kiss on his forehead. He smiles, finally beginning to fully embrace them instead.

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