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spider-stark · 24 days ago

Text

EVERYTHING

Kaz Brekker x Reader

Summary - Kaz Brekker doesn't make any sense—and trying to understand him is getting to be exhausting.

Warnings - fem!reader, reader worked at a brothel, subtle hints at past abuse, some major dog / master symbolism idfk, mentions of blood/weapons, close proximity, could deviate some from canon, based more on book!kaz than show, NOT EDITED SO IF THERE'S A TYPO IDK

Word Count - 3.8k

!MINORS DNI!

// masterlist // send me your thoughts // comments & reblogs appreciated! //

“Touch me.”

You’ve only just slipped inside Kaz Brekker’s room at the Slat, and you’re convinced you’ve misheard him. The door’s still cracked, after all—and the mindless clamor of those playing cards down in the foyer is loud enough to play tricks on anyone’s ears.

You push the door shut, habit making you click the lock into place before spinning around to face him. “Pardon?”

The lanterns burn low, dim light chasing shadows across the spacious attic. Kaz stands over by his desk, leaning his weight against the edge in lieu of his cane. He’s dragging a gloved hand through his hair, looking uncharacteristically flustered.

“Don’t act like you didn’t hear me,” he snaps.

Your laugh comes out breathy and awkward. “We both know I’m a shit actor, Brekker.”

It’s why you’re never picked when the Dreg’s need a decoy—some girl to saddle up next to a sleazy merchant or another hapless mark, distracting them with batted lashes and a well-timed hand on their thigh. In Jesper’s words, you’re so socially inept that you’d probably blow the operation before it even got started.

To your dismay, Kaz doesn’t repeat himself. With his gaze carefully pinned to the tops of his black boots, he demands, “Why are you here?”

Your brow quirks. “At the Slat?”

“In my room.”

The answer eludes you. Why did you come up here? It’s not like tonight was the first time Dirtyhands has ever skipped out on playing Blackjack with the rest of the group, and yet he’d caught your attention when he slipped from the foyer and went limping up the stairs.

Then again, that’s not so surprising. Kaz always catches your eye, doesn’t he?

In the year since you joined the Dregs, you’d earned an unfortunate nickname for yourself around the Barrel: The Bastard’s Pet. Wherever Kaz Brekker goes, you’re sure to be hot on his heels, following after him like a dog, loyal and clingy.

You tell yourself it’s because that’s your job—to keep Kaz safe, to watch his six. But the devil’s got eyes in the back of his head, and you know Kaz Brekker doesn’t really need protection.

So, it begs the question: Why are you here? In his room, at the Slat, as a member of the Dregs? Why does he keep you around?

Unsure of the answer, you simply avoid giving one.

“You should play games with them sometimes,” you tell him, giving a subtle nod over your shoulder. Their voices are muffled now, but you can still hear everyone downstairs exchanging jeers as they shuffle another round. “It makes you look like a recluse, always sneaking off to be by yourself.”

Kaz drums one finger against the desk. It’s an erratic beat, following no set rhythm. “I am a recluse,” he grinds out.

You almost snort. Clearly.

It’s not like anyone joins a gang with the hopes of making friends—and none of the Dregs are dumb enough to think they’ll find a buddy in the infamous Dirtyhands, anyway. Still, you don’t think it’d kill him to try being a little more sociable.

The others would like having him around.

You like having him around.

“I’ll ask one more time.” Dark eyes flick up, heavy as stones when they land on yours. Suddenly, the large attic feels awfully claustrophobic. “Why are you here?”

A lie comes easily enough, slipping right through your teeth.

“I got bored playing,” you tell him. “And Jesper’s cheating, anyway.”

“They’re all cheating,” Kaz points out.

“But Jesper’s bad at it,” you argue. Lifting a shoulder, you add, “It ruins the fun.”

His finger falls still against the desk, ceasing its rhythmless beat. Warm light flickers all around him, dark shadows dancing over the harsh angles of his face. You watch his jaw tick, note the subtle curl of his upper lip. You’re overcome with the distinct feeling that you’re staring down the barrel of a loaded gun.

Probably because you are.

You’ve seen this face before. Been the one to clean the bloody mess left behind by whoever was unfortunate enough to find themselves on the receiving end of it. Now, as the one standing in the line of fire, you feel your stomach start to twist.

You tell yourself it’s dread. Anxiety for what’s to come.

“From where I was standing,” Kaz grinds out, his stare unflinching, “you looked to be having plenty of…” A sharp breath, his tongue gliding over pearly teeth. “Fun.”

There’s something hidden in the word. A meaning that goes well beyond its dictionary definition. Is it a challenge? A dare, maybe? Or—perhaps the most unlikely of the options—some sort of plea?

“And what is that supposed to mean?” you ask, finally daring a step closer, slowly drifting from the closed door.

Kaz shakes his head. “It means what it means.”

As you draw closer, he moves around the desk and takes a seat. He stretches his bad leg out in front of him, mindlessly rubbing a hand down toward his knee. It’s always bothering him by this point in the night.

“Go back downstairs.” An order—not a suggestion.

Across from him now, you place both palms on his desk. The smooth wood is cool against your skin, though the rest of you feels impossibly warm. It’s a side effect of standing too close to him, you think. The flushed cheeks and the vice around your lungs, always leaving your mind fuzzy and your pulse erratic.

You hate him for it, sometimes. For the effect he has on you.

“Why?” you ask, riding out your little bold streak. “So you have a reason to gripe some more about me having fun?”

“I’m not griping,” Kaz shoots back, very evidently griping.

“Griping, carping, quibbling, or complaining—doesn’t matter how you word it, all of 'em fit you to a T right now, Brekker.”

He’s not looking at you anymore, focused instead on the swirling patterns of the wood grain or the neat stack of papers or anything else that gives him an excuse to keep his head low. A month or so after you joined the Dregs, Kaz told you that you had a talent for getting under his skin. Maybe that’s why you don’t need to be able to see his face to know just how annoyed he looks.

“Go downstairs.”

“I will,” you vow. “After you explain what you meant.”

Frustrated, he insists, “There’s nothing to explain.”

“What did you say when I came in?”

“Go downstairs.”

You throw your hands up. “If you won’t tell me what you said, then at least explain why ‘fun’ is such a problem!”

“Go. Down. Stairs.”

“Make me.”

Wood screeches, the chair flying back as he shoots to his feet. The stiffness in his leg makes the movement a little clumsy, and you don’t miss the subtlest flash of a wince before he leans against the desk.

“Do you know why I brought you in?”

For a moment, it’s all you can do to blink at him. Because, no—you don’t know why Kaz offered you a place with the Dregs.

You’re not a sharpshooter like Jesper or a trained Grisha like Nina, not as smart as Wylan or as silent as Inej. You’re decent when it comes to sleight-of-hand and slightly above average with a blade, but even those skills are ones you’ve only learned since joining the gang.

Back when you first met Kaz, you were nothing and no one. An unlucky girl roped into an indenture with Pekka Rollins, forced to work out of the Sweet Shop—the nastiest, most dangerous brothel in all of Ketterdam.

“Because you’re secretly a big softie with a heart of gold?” You hope your sarcasm is enough to mask the twinge of shame brought on by your past.

But Kaz is too good for that. Nothing gets past him—evident by the tiny wrinkle of concern that forms between his dark brows, instantly picking up on the faint dip in your tone.

Fortunately for you, being observant doesn’t equate to being consoling, and so he doesn’t mention it.

“Because you didn’t make me sick,” he answers, low and even. You’re not so sure if it’s an insult or compliment, and before you get a chance to ask, Kaz continues, “It was late. And raining. I’d just finished teaching a Razorgull lackey what happens when you breach parley. He was a real bleeder—made a mess of my suit. I ended up leaving him for Jesper to deal with. Thought I’d avoid eyes by sticking to the shadows, walking in the alleys behind the brothels.” Your eyes must be betraying you, because you almost think that’s a smile twitching at the corner of his lips. “Imagine my surprise when a runaway harlot nearly knocked a helpless cripple like me off his feet.”

You bite your cheek, still deciding if you want to slap him for calling you a harlot or laugh in his face. In spite of his limp and cane, Kaz Brekker is far from what you’d consider helpless.

“So, what? You had me join the Dregs because I nearly bulldozed you in an alley?” That whole night was spotty for you, the panic you’d felt having rendered your memory foggy and incomplete.

“Inej had told me about you,” Kaz says. “That Pekka Rollins got a new girl—an escape artist, always trying her luck at running away.”

You didn’t know that, but maybe you should have. Inej isn’t the best spider in the Barrel without reason. She knows everything—and all she knows is reported directly to Kaz. Even so, you’re not sure you’re catching his point with all this.

As if he can see you trying to mentally connect the dots, Kaz says, “Maybe I had another purpose in walking behind those brothels. Maybe I wanted to see just how quick on her feet Pekka Rollins’ escape artist was.” His head tilts slightly. “Or maybe I just didn’t want anyone to see me when I wasn’t looking my best. Either way, I left that alley knowing you’d be a part of my crew.”

Your memory of that night may be spotty, but the one after is still crystal clear. A Suli spider had crawled through your window at the Sweet Shop, told you that Per Haskell was willing to pay a very hefty sum to buyout your indenture if you agreed to work for the Dregs. To this day, you’re still unsure of how Kaz managed to convince him you were worth it—or why he bothered.

“You’re not making any sense, Brekker,” you admit, rubbing at your temple. A headache burrows there, seeming to grow worse with every minute. “Is that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then? Cause I’m… fast?”

It sounds stupid. It is stupid.

You’re no faster than anyone else—and you certainly hadn’t been fast enough to outrun Pekka Rollins’ goons. Everytime you made a run from the Sweet Shop, they dragged you right back, kicking and screaming the whole way.

“No.” Kaz sighs. Drags a hand through his hair, tugging at the dark locks. “I wanted you-”

Kaz doesn’t finish that thought.

A violent CRASH! steals your attention. Both of your heads snap toward the closed door, listening intently for any sign of danger.

Instead, you hear Jesper’s boisterous cackle chime. Wylan starts shouting about something indiscernible—vase, shattered, and moron among the words you catch.

A smile sneaks up on you.

But, when you turn back to Kaz, it’s promptly wiped away.

He looks like he’s had a lemon rind forced into his mouth, scowling at the door. “What’s going on with you and Van Eck?”

You blink. “What?”

“You heard me.”

You did—but hearing him is a far stretch from understanding him, and it’s seemed like Kaz has been talking in circles since you came in. What’s Wylan have to do with any of this?

“I don’t get what you’re asking.”

“Stop making me repeat myself.”

“Then stop being so confusing, Brekker!” you huff, crossing your arms. “I don’t understand-”

Kaz cuts you off with a look. Cold as death, he grinds out, “Are you fucking him?”

Shock. Confusion.

They course through you in equal measure, coupled with slight amusement. The latter must show on your face, because Kaz’s scowl deepens before he looks down at his desk, pretending to fiddle with something.

“I have work to do,” he says stiffly. “Go downstairs.”

Your feet stay firmly planted, the desk’s width all that separates the two of you. “Why would you think that?”

Of all the assholes and degenerates in the Dregs, Wylan’s probably the closest you have to a real friend. It came with the territory—both of you having become newbies around the same time, trying to learn the ropes and fit in.

You’re not fucking him, though.

Kaz sinks back into his chair. His usually-squared shoulders curve slightly, as if some weight is pressing down on them. “Go downstairs.”

“I thought you didn’t like repeating yourself?” you ask, almost taunting.

“Go.” The word strains between his teeth. “Now.”

For no good reason, you make a stand. Stare down the barrel of the gun, unafraid and unrelenting. How strange, you think. The tightness in your chest has never once been apprehension.

It was excitement. Anticipation.

You’ve always liked getting under his skin. Finding out what makes him tick, figuring out which words earn the sharpest glares. You want him to pull the trigger, if only because it means you have his attention—and like a dog waiting at its master’s feet, you could care less if it comes with an open hand or a closed fist.

So long as it comes. So long as he notices you.

“What did you say when I came in?” You uncross your arms, make yourself stand up tall. “Tell me.”

Dark eyes shoot up. Kaz almost looks shocked, the dull echo of emotion creasing the lines of his face, parting his lips. You wait, but no sound comes out.

Dirtyhands is used to giving orders. Not taking them.

“You’ve heard what they say about me.” You wave a dismissive hand toward the shoddy window overlooking the Barrel. “Brekker’s Pet. Always with you, always following you around! Ask any sod in Ketterdam and they’ll say the same—the only way I’d have time to fuck someone is if you were in the room!” And even then, it wouldn’t be Wylan.

A steel rod takes the place of Kaz’s spine, turning your words over in his head. “Fine. Maybe you haven’t,” he relents. “But you want to.”

It’s a gamble. An unusually shitty one, at that.

You blow out an exasperated breath. This whole thing is getting old. “Saints, Kaz. What’s your deal?”

He opens his mouth. Shuts it. Then opens it again.

“I saw you downstairs,” he says. “Touching Van Eck.”

Your brows lift, fists clenching. You don’t know what you expected from him, but it certainly hadn’t been a bold-faced lie!

But then you start thinking of the moments before you saw Kaz head upstairs, laughing and playing Blackjack before you folded your hand to follow after him. You’d been sitting cross-legged on the threadbare rug, wedged between Wylan and Raske, when you noticed—Shit.

Kaz is right, and that makes you want to scream. Why is Kaz always right?

It was after you noticed Jesper was cheating, that he’d poorly marked the deck with daub; a sticky, ash-colored substance. You’d leaned in close to point it out to Wylan—your hand against his forearm, your lips dangerously close to the Merchling’s ear. After he noticed the marks, you both exchanged quiet giggles over just how bad Jesper was at swindling.

Still, there had been nothing sexual about it. Nothing between you and Wylan.

But, even if there was, why would Kaz care?

I saw you—touching Van Eck. His words race through your mind, pulsing in time with the dull ache in your temple. Touch me, touch me, touch me.

All of a sudden, the fog begins to clear. Something in your memory clicks.

That night behind the brothels—when you were running from the Sweet Shop, when Kaz had been drenched in the blood of some Razorgull. Barefoot and frantic, you really had almost knocked him off his feet. Gloved hands had held your arms tight, keeping you still. His hair had been messy and your mind a blur—and when you’d seen the crimson smeared across his cheek, you hadn’t thought twice before wiping it away.

You’d done what so few have. You had touched Kaz Brekker, skin-on-skin.

Because you didn’t make me sick.

When you don’t speak, Kaz shifts in his chair. Straightens an already-neat stacks of papers. “You won’t try and deny it?” he asks.

Maybe you imagine the quaver in his voice. Or maybe you don’t.

Either way, you start around his desk. Your every step is slow—cautious.

You stop beside him, and Kaz shifts again. You’re standing closer than you’d usually dare to get, so close that you can hear it when he swallows.

“You should go downstairs,” he tells you, lower than before.

Your head tilts, hair shifting over one shoulder. “Is that what you want?”

His answer hides in silence so thick it’s a tangible presence. It curls around you, makes gooseflesh prickle along your skin. Your mouth feels dry, your stomach like it’s tied in knots.

Suddenly, you don’t need him to repeat what he’d said.

As always, Kaz was right—you'd heard him the first time.

“Ask me again.” The words drip from your tongue, an order and a plea. “Ask me and I’ll do it.”

Kaz gives you a look, one you’ve never seen before. Dark eyes rove over you, brimming with worry and stress and—and Saints, a sense of desire so strong it makes your toes curl in your boots, a feeling like lightning coursing up your spine.

In a voice like stone on stone, raspy and urgent, Kaz breathes out, “Touch me.”

So you do.

You cup his face, graze your thumb over his cheekbone. Kaz stiffens, swallowing once more—but he doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t try to pull away.

“You know, to be such a bastard,” you start, a note of teasing in your voice, “you’re awfully pretty, Brekker.”

Heat blooms against your palm, a deep blush crawling over his pale cheeks.

“Shut up,” Kaz grumbles.

You grin. “Want me to go downstairs?”

A gasp rips from your throat as a gloved hand clamps around your wrist, Kaz pulling you down toward him. Anxiety still tightens his features, but beneath it he looks all too pleased with himself when you stumble clumsily into his lap.

For the sake of comfort, you adjust your legs—careful for his bad one—and settle your arms over his shoulders. Then, when it fully settles that you’re straddling Kaz-fucking-Brekker, it gets a lot harder to breathe.

“Should I take that as a no?” It sounds like a pant, your lungs constricting.

He lifts the hem of your shirt, the feel of leather cool against your skin as Kaz jabs a finger into your side. “Do I always have to repeat myself around you?” he asks. Dark eyes dip past your jaw, his tongue gliding over his lips. You don’t think he actually cares to hear your answer, which is good—because you’re pretty sure you just forgot how to speak.

Kaz drags his finger up the curve of your waist, his touch tentative and featherlight. It feels a lot like being studied—the way his dark brows knit together, staring at you as if you’re a magic trick he’s yet to master, a puzzle he hasn’t quite figured out.

“It’s not because you’re fast,” he says, somewhat distracted. It takes a minute for you to realize that he’s referring to your earlier question—Is that why you wanted me for the Dregs, then?

“Good,” you manage. “Because I’m not.”

The slightest twitch of a smile. “No.” He takes his time tracing over every divet in your ribs, slowly trailing up, up, up. “You’re not.”

“But I didn’t make you sick.” You’re not prepared for the wave of sickness that comes with the reminder, stomach roiling.

The Bastard’s Pet. Is that truly all you are? All you’re worth to the Dregs? Useless at saddling up next to sleazy merchants, but good enough to curl up at Kaz Brekker’s feet.

As if he can read your mind, Kaz’s hand goes still against your side. “Wipe that sour look off your face, would you? If I only wanted you to touch me, I would’ve just come to the Sweet Shop instead of getting my ass chewed by Haskell.”

You wiggle just enough to knock one knee into his hip, glaring at him. Both of you pretend not to notice the catch in his breath—or the growing hardness straining against his trousers, pressed against your core.

Gruff, Kaz continues, “You were in an alley and saw a man dripping with blood, and your first thought was to reach out and clean his cheek.” His head shakes, a strand of coal-black hair swaying near his temple. “It was ignorant,” he tells you. “And… decent. Innocent.”

You almost laugh. Innocent. That’s hardly a word you’d use to describe yourself. Especially right now, your every muscle straining in an attempt to keep your hips perfectly still, hands folded at the base of his neck.

“I didn’t know innocence like that could survive in the Barrel.” His hand starts again, tracing little shapes against your side. “Even if you never touched me again, I wasn’t gonna let Pekka Rollin’s crush someone like you between his grimy little fingers.”

“So that’s the answer?” you ask, nibbling on your lip. “I’m in the Dregs cause I’m innocent?” What a reason to have someone join a gang. Hey, you seem pure! Wanna get corrupted?

“You’re in the Dregs because you know how to persevere,” Kaz answers, holding your gaze. “How to get up and try again, no matter how many times you’re knocked down.” The sensation of smooth leather drifts higher. “Because you’re a survivor.” Your eyelids flutter, sucking in a breath as he palms the plump curve of your breast. “Because you’re loyal,” he starts, and it’s almost reverent the way he almost whispers, “my perfect little pet.”

The world grinds to a halt.

Outside of this room—this moment—nothing exists.

Too quiet, you ask, “What do you want from me, Kaz?”

You want him to feel in control, to be the one that decides how this is gonna go. But your self-restraint is a fraying cord, mere seconds from snapping in half.

If it were up to you, how far would you go? How much of Kaz Brekker would you explore? As far as I could, you think, desperate. As much as he’d let me.

That’s the trouble with dogs. They’re loyal and clingy, forgiving and insistent. They want for everything and take whatever they’re given. They’ll spend hours begging at your feet. Lick scraps from the floor until their tongues begin to bleed.

When it comes to Kaz Brekker, you’ll take whatever he has to give.

And you’ll never stop begging for more, more, more.

“Everything.” His breath is warm against your lips, the leather cool on your breast. “I want everything.”

a/n - just in case anyone couldn't tell, i obviously just finished reading six of crows (yeah ik i'm very late to the party). i randomly started writing this while i was stuck in traffic and it just sort of spiraled over the past 24 hours and now here we are! this was born! idk if i'll get anymore kaz ideas, but it was fun writing something more dialogue heavy (dialogue has my heart<3)

#kaz brekker imagine #six of crows imagine #shadow and bone imagine #s&b netflix #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x fem!reader #kaz brekker x you #six of crows #shadow and bone fic #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse #kaz brekker x reader #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone x reader #six of crows x reader #shadow and bone

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minswriting · 7 months ago

Note

okayyy so…. been thinking about jesus reid with his cane lately and i was wondering if you could do a little blurb where spencer is having trouble…. finishing, maybe cuz of his leg (idk how that would work but like) and spencer’s getting all frustrated so coworker!reader offers to help him out and he’s all whiny n shit 🤭

nsfw | mdni

i can imagine this being like he rarely ever has any free time so he tries to get off when he takes a shower but standing for too long hurts his leg. so he went to work without being able to get off. i hope you guys enjoy!! this is fem!reader btw as all of my works are!

warnings: nsfw content, blowjob, female reader, whiny spencer

—————————-

when spencer came into work looking defeated, you immediately knew that something was wrong. you weren’t quite sure as to what it was. but as the genius doctor walked with his cane, you just assumed it was likely to be his leg bothering him. you had felt bad at the fact that he had been shot in the leg and was suffering through walking with a cane. and judging by the look on his face, the one of frustration and annoyance, you could tell it was most certainly his leg that was bothering him.

it was one of those rare days when there wasn’t a case and so the only work to do is paperwork or reading up on old case files. your desk was right next to spencer’s as you looked at your computer to check your emails. you glanced over at spencer, who was reading an old file. he was biting the inside of his cheek as his finger followed along the text, his hair falling to his cheeks. he looked tense and you couldn’t help but speak up.

“spence?” you asked, looking at the genius.

spencer looked up from the file to look at you. “yes?” he replied softly. his voice was usually soft spoken and you loved that about him.

“are you okay?” you asked with a concerned look in your eye. “you’ve seemed frustrated and annoyed all day,” you added.

spencer took a deep breath, stretching his arms. “i-i mean for the most part i am,” he exclaimed, “it’s just this damn leg. it’s been…a hassle really.”

��have you been elevating it?” you asked, tilting your head at your coworker.

“when i can,” he said with a small smile. your concern for him softened his frustrated demeanor. “it’s hard though, alone at home. especially because i have to do everything myself,” he said, licking his lips and running a hand through his hair. “i-uh barely have time to…take care of myself, and when i do, it hurts to stand on my leg for that long,” he whispered nervously, not knowing how you’d react to him.

“take care of yourself how?”

spencer’s cheeks reddened. “i uh you know what? it’s not appropriate, i’m sorry i mentioned anything at all. let’s just not talk about it, yeah?” he said, going back to looking at the file.

your eyes widened as you realized what spencer had meant. you quickly composed yourself, clearing your throat and going back to what you were doing. though with the redness of your own cheeks, it was obvious to tell that his words had some sort of effect on you.

the day went by without anymore conversation with you and spencer which bothered you a bit. it most certainly had felt awkward after that. though you couldn’t help but think about the idea of spencer trying to get himself off, jerking himself off. it was likely he did it most in the shower judging by how this job has early days and very late nights.

today, being the rare day that it was, everyone had gone home at 5:30 PM. when you had gone home, your thoughts were still on spencer. wet, long hair clinging to his skin as he leans on his bathroom wall, looking down at his cock, jerking himself off. you could imagine just how hard it was to stand that long on his leg, especially since you doubted he brought his cane into the shower with him.

around 8:00 PM, you decided it was time to be a good friend and help spencer with his issue.

you knocked on the door of spencer’s apartment. you stood there a bit anxiously, biting your lip as you waited for him to answer. you were wearing the clothes you had worn to work, a black pencil skirt and a red blouse. your hair was down. after a few minutes, you heard the tapping of spencer’s cane before it stopped and he opened the door. his eyes widened as he saw you, not expecting you to be at his apartment.

spencer was dressed in a pair of sweatpants and a FBI sweatshirt. you licked your lips nervously, looking at spencer. “oh!” he exclaimed. “y/n, what are you-“ he cleared his throat as he realized his voice was a bit too high. “what are you doing here?”

you took a deep breath. there was no backing down now. “can i come in?” you asked, looking at spencer. he moved to the side, allowing you to come into his apartment. you stepped inside and he closed the door behind you.

he walked over to the couch, taking a seat. you looked around the apartment before you turned to look at your coworker. “so,” you began. “when you told me, you’d been…struggling,” you continued, “i thought perhaps…i could help you.”

“w-what?” he stuttered, looking at you with his beautiful big brown eyes.

you walked over to spencer, your heels clicking on the wooden floor, before you kneels in front of him, between his legs. “i-i could help you if you let me,” you said softly, looking up at him. you put your hands on spencer’s thighs.

spencer licked his lips, looking down at you with a look you’ve not seen before. you could tell that your words had an effect on him, judging by the fact that he was already semi-hard in his sweatpants. “i-is this real?” he whispered.

you nodded your head. “yes,” you whispered back.

“i-if we do this, it’ll effect our whole dynamic,” he whispered, reaching a hand to move your hair out of your face.

you looked up at him, biting your lip. “i want you, spence,” you exclaimed softly. “and you need help. i want to help you,” you said as you moved your hand higher. you began palming him through his sweatpants, causing spencer to moan softly. “can i help you?”

spencer nodded his head, bucking his hips into your hand. “yes,” he said shakily. “please.”

you let out a breath of relief as spencer had given you. you put your hand on the hem of his sweatpants, pulling them down enough to reveal his cock. spencer let out a gasp from the cool air on his cock. it was red and angry, a signal that he hadn’t had relief in a while. his cock was long but not girthy. about seven inches or so in length. you smiled slightly, looking at spencer’s reddened face as he looked down at you.

you gave his cock an experimental tug, causing him to let out a small whimper. the sound was like heaven to your ears. the genius fbi profiler had been reduced to a whimpering mess by a simple tug of his cock. and it was powerful.

you lowered your head, giving the tip an experimental lick. spencer let out a shaky moan, bringing a hand to your hair. you slowly eased your mouth onto his length, stopping about halfway before going back up. your mouth moved up and down slowly, creating a rhythm as spencer whined and moaned, bucking his hips into your mouth.

it was all very new. you’ve of course done this before with other partners. but to do this with your coworker, someone you’ve had a crush on since you began at the BAU, it’s most certainly surreal. and clearly, spencer needed the help. so really you were just being a dedicated coworker.

“oh-oh fuck,” spencer moaned as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking his cock a bit faster. “feels so good,” he whined, closing his eyes in pleasure and throwing his head back. his fingers were entangled in your hair as you sucked him off, tugging at your hair gently. “mm!” he moaned. you hadn’t expected spencer to be so vocal but you didn’t mind it at all. it sent pools of arousal to your cunt, soaking your panties.

spencer began thrusting his hips into your mouth, unable to help himself from doing so and you allowed him to. what you were doing was for him. and if he wanted to use you for his pleasure, you were more than allowing him to do so. “oh my god,” he groaned, thrusting his hips up into you. “your mouth feels so good, y/n,” he said as he opened his eyes to look down at you. your messed up hair, your glistening eyes looking up at spencer, you were absolutely gorgeous.

spencer felt his cock stiffening as the heat in his abdomen grew bigger. he let out a loud trail of, “oh fuck, oh fuck, i’m so close, oh fuck.” he was about to pull out of your mouth but instead, you kept him in your mouth, sucking him off to completion. spencer let out a whine as he began cumming into your mouth with ropes. “oh my god,” he said, shuttering as his load shot down your throat. and being the good girl that you were, you swallowed greedily.

when spencer finished, you pulled off of his cock, leaving a trail of saliva and cum. spencer was breathing heavily, looking at you with a look of lust and gratefulness. he caressed your cheek, running a thumb across your bottom lip before bringing it up to his own mouth and licking it. “thank you,” he murmured to you, grabbing your hand to pull you onto his lap. you were careful to not hurt his leg at all.

“anytime,” you murmured back.

“i think i should show you how thankful i am,” he said before kissing your lips hungrily. and that kiss began a night of immense pleasure to the both of you.

it was safe to say that the two of you were no longer just coworkers anymore.

#minsasks #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds smut #spencer criminal minds #criminals minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #🌸 — min’s asks #spencerasks

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colourstreakgryffin · 10 months ago

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Teen!Reader finding Alastor all beaten and bruised after the finale and getting worried, insisting in patching him up, etc, while Alastor during the entire time is having a moment of realization like "oh, this kid ACTUALLY cares about me"

(This is platonic obviously, reader sees him like a weird older brother/father figure and looks up to him idk)

I love it. Simple, enjoyable and to be honest, we’ll just pretend Alastor had his sick solo in the finale before we showed up and I suppose Al will be quite unhinged and aggressive in this state so goddamn. Also, my second time writing about the finale

Platonic! Alastor- Reaching Out

“You son of a bitch, I am trying to help you!” You growl out, now half-wrestling with the Radio Demon himself, after his lose battle against Adam. Whilst Adam has been finally defeated at Lucifer’s hand then killed at Niffty’s knife. It’s clear as crystal that Alastor isn’t taking his own defeat well at all. He’s aggressive, completely lost his usual charismatic, well-mannered demeanour, he’s breaking down and barking at you to back off as you’re still trying to pry his own hands off the visible red bleeding wound over his chest

You’ve found this retreating deer out of pure luck and now, you’re acting on your compassion for him to try make the process of healing less painful for him

You’re the only Hazbin Hotel staff member that actually treated Alastor more than an annoyance standing there. He isn’t the best guy at there, never. No, but he isn’t as bad as Vaggie or Husk claim he is. However, right now, he’s boiling your blood with how much he is refusing to let you even touch him, despite the fact he needs to be patched up. He’s low on power, his cane is snapped in half, he’s limited and requires help

“I don’t need your help, Leitora!” Alastor barks back in possibly the most unhinged way you’ve ever seen, basically backing into a wall. He can’t even notice how worried you actually are, how you’re getting frustrated because you’re worried and you’re the only one who has been looking for and have found Alastor whilst everybody else is celebrating the victory over Adam. You’re the one looking for and now looking out for the man you actually find quite nice. He isn’t as patronising to you, for whatever reason, Alastor’s decent and it’s almost like he wants to be some type of figure in your life with how he behaves

“Stay still before you bleed yourself to unconsciousness, you narcissistic edible piece of shit!” You only say this so cruelly, sharp and half loud as to put Alastor into his place, prove to him you’re not backing down whilst you finally win the half wrestling session you have with the weakened and distressed Overlord, already beginning to check around for the entire length of the wound and use what little excess fabric your current clothing has to make a makeshift bandage for this wound

This is surprising, you’re possibly two times his age. A teenager, if not 15-16 at the oldest upon your human death and you’re acting more mature than the biologically 34 year old. Alastor just stayed quiet, tall fluffy deer-like ears still pinned back and suffering through the intense pain. He wouldn’t admit that he is quite grateful that somebody is around but at the same time, he doesn’t want to get attached to any soul

It took him a proper glance at the cute young sinner he found it fun to playfully tease, mock and behave like a clingy overprotective big brother to piss off, that they genuinely care for him. That they aren’t lying or pretending as to get something out of him like he suspects everybody in the Hotel, including Charlie, is

This is so much different than he suspected, he was believing he’d be going back to his radio tower to vent out his rage at being smacked in the face of such a pathetic opponent

Ending up being the pathetic opponent. He hates showing his weakness and he can barely keep himself from snapping but he also can feel his racking nerves ease up a bit at this strong, confident yet sweet and compassionate kid trying to take care of him when they have no actual requirement to do so

Alastor takes a few more seconds to think and speak, not even realising he was sat down by you as he was thinking frantically about how his own mischievous and mocking behaviour as some type of surrogate brother for you was more than just something down to see your reactions for his own amusement, he does feel some type of family-based affections for you

Now, that affection has been bumped up even more. He definitely owes you a lot for caring about him like some surrogate little sibling when all he does for you is annoy you. He doesn’t even know that you actually look up to him like some type of family figure… so, the familiar feelings are mutual

“Fuck… can you just be careful with the coat? This is my treasure”

(A/N: Real quick. Leitora means ‘Reader’ in Portuguese, this’ll be our name for any none anime posts. There’s two versions; Leitora as the feminine version and Leitor as the masculine version. You can use either for us! I got this from Google Translate)

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goldenlikedayl1ght · 7 months ago

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the albatross - m. murdock

a/n: hi everyone! so this is that weird and off putting reader i was mentioning earlier! she's not that weird but she's sort of odd so yeah. also i know bucky is the winter soldier but idk how else to tag this so oh well! i do have lore and stuff for readers time as a soldier so i'll include that in later installments! i was kind of in a writers block and this pushed me out of that. so enjoy! please please tell me what you thought and if you want more! warnings: cursing, mentions of death, war, torture, pain, people being dead, reader having horrible people skills and ptsd, mentions of sex maybe? uhmmm in general reader is just sort of strange and this is her and matt's early relationship, so sorry if i missed anything ! word count: 3.6k summary: you have spent the past ninety (give or take) years tortured and in pain. then, a handsome stranger comes into your life and changes everything. pairing: matt murdock x winter soldier!fem!reader now playing: the albatross - taylor swift "i'm the albatross/i swept in at the rescue/the devil that you know/looks now more like an angel/i'm the life you chose/and all this terrible danger"

You’re working a morning shift at the bakery when he comes in. The pastries in the case are laid out just so, and you have been meticulously working on this sign for your fall specials. You are determined to focus on something that is not how poorly you slept, your hair tied up in a braid behind you as you work.

You’re determined to get these pumpkin stems drawn correctly; a green marker clenched in your hand. Your knuckles are white with the tension you are holding in your fingers. It’s around eight in the god damn morning, and you have been awake since around three a.m.

You don’t even hear the bell ring, nor do you hear the click-clacking of a cane on the tiled floors, you only hear an awkward clearing of the throat, to which you spin around, about to throw the marker at the customer, but stopping when you realize what you’re doing.

The customer smiles awkwardly at you, and you recognize instantly that between his glasses and cane, he is most definitely blind. You almost feel silly, until you remember everything, and you wish that there was more moments where you think you’re silly for being paranoid.

And there’s something else, too. You look at this man for a few moments, before realizing that he is so god damn hot. Which, is weird, because you have not felt anything for any man or woman in years, too busy focusing on other things, too busy thinking about everything that’s happened. But god, the stubble tracing his face, the way his dark hair falls, and the way his hand wraps around his cane..

But what gets you really is his lips. Maybe you’re staring, maybe you don’t care. But his lips are this pretty pink, and you find yourself getting lost in the nicest daydream you’ve had in a very long time..

And then, you snap out of that fantasy to remind yourself that you are working and don’t even know his name.

“Hi, sorry,” You cough awkwardly, “Was just focused,” You tell him, approaching the counter. You wipe your sweaty hands on your apron, before putting on your best ‘I’m a friendly bakery worker who just wants to sell you pastries, also tip me please!’ smile on. “What can I get you?” You ask.

“Do you guys have apple turnovers?” It is the first time this fall that is under 65 degrees, so you understand that there is some cravings for autumn snacks.

“Yeah, yeah,” You move towards the case to get some, “Just the one?”

“Three, actually. For the office.” He hums.

“Some big office,” Your voice is a sarcastic mumble, not really for the an to hear but he chuckles at it, and you almost think it’s weird that he an hear you but your brain tells you not to judge, since there is a whole lot the handsome stranger could judge you for.

“We’re a small business. Very friendly, very personable.”

You cannot help yourself, and you find yourself asking, “What sort of business are you in?” What the handsome stranger does not know is that you are insatiably angry at yourself for asking that because you had pretty much promised yourself that you were never going to have any sort of relationship—it wouldn’t be fair to them, it wouldn’t be fair to you. And as previously established, that wasn’t a problem, because you weren’t really attracted to anyone before this handsome stranger waltzed on into the bakery.

“I’m a lawyer.” He smiles. A lawyer.

“Well, Mr. Lawyer, your total is 10.75.” He pulls out a twenty and when you hand him change, he asks, “Which one is the five?” and you wordlessly pull out the five from the stack you handed him, before he puts the rest of the change in his wallet, dropping a five and a small card into your tip jar. “You have a good day now.” He hums, before making his way out of the bakery.

You watch intently, maybe a little too intently, and you hear the voice of your best friend from your teenage years in your head saying, ‘You hate to see him go, but you love to watch him leave.’ And a small smile finds its way to your face.

Then, you notice the card he dropped in the jar before fishing it out. On the front, it reads,

‘Matthew M. Murdock, Attorney at Law.’ On the back, you read,

‘Nelson, Murdock & Page, Attorneys at Law,

Hell’s Kitchen’

Accompanied by this is a phone number and an address.

You pocket the card, and before you know it, costumers are flooding in, and you ease into the day, forgetting about the handsome stranger until you leave the bakery at around six o’clock that night. You finish cleaning up from the day before letting the woman who works to prep for the next day. Then you leave, heading home to the too quiet, too small apartment.

You don’t have much in your apartment. You sleep with a gun under your pillow and you have a cheap TV on your dresser. You spend most of your time catching up on books or movies. You make yourself box mac and cheese before eating it right out of the pot, sitting on your kitchen floor.

As you cook the mac and cheese, you say his name over and over again, letting it sit on your tongue and escape your lips, thinking about him intently. You glance at your watch and decide that maybe it’s early enough that he might still be at his office.

You fish your tiny flip phone out of your pocket, dialing the number on the card and waiting. You’re holding your breath as the phone rings. A thought runs through your brain that maybe he gave you a wrong number and then your brain immediately reminds you that no man is ever going to give you his card, printed out, just to fuck with you.

“Nelson, Murdock & Page, how can I help you?” A voice asks, and you blink, hesitating for a minute.

“Uh, I’m looking for Matthew.” You say, and there’s some light shuffling, and again, this regret shoots over you until you hear a very smooth, very familiar voice,

“Hey,” His voice is like honey and you long to hear it clearer—The first time you’ve desired a better phone. “I was hoping you’d call.”

“Yeah, well, Maybe I just like the sound of your voice.”

“You know usually, that’s my line.”

“Wait, that works on people?” You hear his laugh on the other side of the phone and a shiver runs down your spine as you itch to make him laugh more.

“Telling people they’re beautiful doesn’t hit the same when you’re blind.”

“I guess not..” There’s a silence on his end of the phone, before he says,

“I never got your name.” For a moment, you consider giving him a fake name, but you find yourself giving him your name, the one that your parents gave you all those years ago. It’s foreign on your lips, a rare gem that you do not often give out. He repeats it and you swear you could almost die right then and there. “What are you doing tonight?”

You’re taken back by his forwardness, not anticipating that maybe this handsome stranger, Matthew, wants to be around you just as bad as you want to be around him. And then you look around at your dingy apartment, with your boxy TV, the gun under your pillow, and you, sitting on the floor of your kitchen, having just finished eating box mac and cheese with a wooden spoon that just for a second tastes like the one your mother used to cook with, the one you’d get tastes of sauces, soups, anything you could get your hands on.

And then you remember everything that happened after those days sneaking tastes of your mom’s cooking and you feel guilty for pursuing handsome Matthew, because he has no idea what he is getting into.

“Just finished dinner. Was planning on just relaxing.” Reading until around midnight and then getting an hour or two of sleep.

“Well, how about we go do something?” You detect a bit of hopefulness in his voice. You find yourself asking before you can stop yourself,

“Like, like a date?” And he laughs again.

“Yes, like a date.”

“I don’t know,” You start, “Usually I have to ask my father’s permission before I go out on the town with a boy.” You want to slap your hand over your mouth because you sound your age. Oh god.

“Really?”

“..No.” You hope he finds your weird, totally not a cover up, joke funny. And he laughs again, telling you,

“You’re funny.”

Yeah, really fucking hilarious.

“So, a date?”

“A date.” You consider this for a moment. A date might lead somewhere real. Somewhere dangerous. Somewhere you haven’t been in.. years. Years might be an understatement. Your heart thuds against your chest, and you find yourself full of that nostalgic thing you call desire.

“What would we do?”

“Anything you want.” He tells you.

“Anything? That’s dangerous.” Because this whole thing is dangerous, you want to tell him, maybe you should mention the whole age thing, the whole assassin thing, the whole brainwashing thing, the whole thing.

“Yeah? What dangerous things do you have in mind, doll?” You have to hold the phone away from your ear to breathe, because it feels like someone just took the winds out of your sails. Suddenly it is 1940 something and a boy is flirting with you, and you have to act like a lady in hopes that he will treat you right.

Odd thing to think about today, but you’re an odd person.

“What about ice cream and a bookstore?” You ask, and for a moment you want to hit yourself for not suggesting something cool like a club or something and then you realize that you have no idea what counts as a cool date in this day and age.

Did you know when you were a teenager and had the world at your fingertips, eighty (give or take) years ago?

But to your surprise, handsome Matthew just responds,

“That sounds nice. Do you want me to pick you up at your apartment?”

The idea of handsome Matthew being at your tiny apartment that is not suitable for a date makes your heart race.

“I’ll meet you at the ice cream place in an hour. You know the one near the bakery?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

“Yeah. See you.” And when you hang up, you realize just what has happened. For the first time since 1944, You have landed yourself a date with a handsome man that is genuinely interested in you and in your infinite wisdom decided that ice cream and books were the best way to impress him.. Books.. Blind man.

You lightly bang your head against the counter behind you, muttering to yourself how stupid that was. But you an only dwell on it for a moment before you are standing up and making your way over to your room to get ready.

You’re still in your work uniform. And you look like an idiot. So, you clean yourself up and pull on something presentable, something comfortable. There is no confusion as to the nature of this meet up, you two are going on a date and you asked a blind man to go to a bookstore. You feel like an asshole. And you’re aware that you’re putting emphasis on that, but still!

You go through outfits and outfits, trying to figure out what an appropriate outfit is for this first date. You end up in something casual, and you hope you’re not underdressed. Honestly, you know you’re making a fuss over something as standard as a date, but you are genuinely desperate to have this go well.

You finally decide on an outfit and make your way out the door, grabbing your jacket and stepping out of the apartment. You stop outside of your door before turning around and going back into your room to change your top.

But eventually, you do get to the ice cream place Matt and you had discussed on the phone. And there he is, in all his glory, wearing the same outfit he wore when you saw him in the bakery that morning, only, without his tie, and he looks more disheveled. Somehow it’s more charming to see him like this, more exhilarating to imagine a life with such a low stakes man (You’ll look back on this thought later and laugh)

“Hi,” You greet, and Matt smiles in your direction.

“Hi.” He hums, and again, you feel nervous! So, before he can say much else, you blurt out,

“So, This is my first date in a while.. So. Sorry about that.” You say awkwardly.

“A while?” He asks, tilting his head like a curious dog. You’re struck by the fact that he is around 70 years younger than you. “Like, a few months?”

A beat.

Handsome Matthew is much busier than you are, it seems.

“More like a couple of years.” And by ‘a couple’ you mean eighty some odd years, but Matt doesn’t need to know all of that right now. But he just hums and nods, before answering,

“That’s alright, I’ll be gentle.” Your face flushes, and with a nervous laugh, you ask,

“You mean we’ll take it slow?”

“Sure. Whatever. We’ll figure out the details of it all later.” His hand finds yours, and before you can protest he pulls you into the ice cream shop. Handsome Matthew orders chocolate chip cookie dough because he is perfect in every way, and you order..

“Butter pecan, please.” You get odd glances from Matthew and the seventeen year old minimum wage worker behind the counter, but neither of them say anything. You manage to beat Matthew to paying for the ice cream, and as you walk, he asks,

“Butter pecan? Really?” And you roll your eyes. Young people today, always judging.

“You’re lucky they didn’t have butterscotch, that’s my real favorite.” You respond, before taking a lick of the ice cream. Your handsome date, gives you another bizarre look.

“Okay, what’s your third favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Mm..” You take a few minutes to think about it, before deciding on your answer. “A tie between pistachio and coffee.” And at your answer, Matt laughs at you. You let out an offended gasp, although you’re not being serious, before asking, “what’s so horrible about that?”

“You have the ice cream preferences of an eighty year old,” He laughs and you laugh too, because oh, if only he knew.

“Sorry, my pallet is straight from the 40’s.” It’s a joke. That’s a joke. Not at all based in facts or actuality. You continue working through eating your ice cream and talking to your handsome date. “So, does the handsome lawyer have any family I should know about?”

“You think I’m handsome?” He grins, and your face flushes.

“Answer the question.”

“No siblings. My dad died when I was young and It’s only recently that I’ve been talking to my mother.” Interesting, you think, and then this dawning realization happens where you realize that the next thing out of his mouth will be the inevitable question, “How about your family?”

You consider lying but you decide against it. If this is going to lead anywhere good, you don’t want to base it off lies.

“Not much to say. I’m the sole survivor.” You shrug, keeping it vague. He frowns a bit before squeezing your hand.

“A couple of orphans, huh?”

You squeeze his back.

“Seems like it.”

You kind of aren’t over the death of your parents and your siblings and quite literally everyone you knew as a teenager and young adult—You’re not over so many fucking things that if you went through it all, you’d probably keep poor Handsome Matthew up all night.

But instead of talking about that, Matt finds himself walking with you to the bookstore. You hold the door open for him and begin to wander. You quickly move past the books on World War II, as if faced with an ex you want nothing to do with them.

You begin to look at the romance books, scrunching your nose at how cheesy and surface level so many of these young adult novels are. But then you remind yourself that you are a hundred years old. But you look like you’re in your late twenties, early thirties. As you’re looking at the books, Matthew makes his way to the aisle next to yours, and talks to you through the stacks.

“So, what’s your favorite book?”

“That’s like asking a mother her favorite child.” You answer quickly, and you hear him laugh. Your face flushes.

“Try for me.”

“Uh, I really love Great Gatsby. I’m kind of fascinated with the zombie genre, too, it’s sort of new and interesting, and uh, oh, I read this Neil Gaiman novel, uh, Stardust? I really liked that.” You confess. Matt listens as you fumble through novels, both of you making your way towards the end of the aisle.

“And movies?”

“Why is everything about me? I didn’t hear your favorite novel.”

“The Outsiders.” He responds, and you make a mental note to try and find it in the bookstore. “So, movies?”

You’ve had autonomy for around three years now, so.. Your movie knowledge has been kind of stunted, so you wrack your brain to try and come up with something impressive.

“I really like the Indiana Jones series, uh, oh, The Matrix, and..” You ponder your brain. “Oh! And King Kong!” You saw that one in the theatres for your thirteenth birthday.

“Like, the one that came out in 2017?” He asks, and again, you consider lying, because you actually have seen that one because when you looked up ‘King Kong’ it came out, and it really blew your mind how far CGI had come.

“No, the one that came out in ’33.” As if it is the most normal thing in the entire world.

“One of your favorite movies is one from 1933?” And the old woman in you wants to insist that you loved the decades you grew up in, and that seeing King Kong in the theatres was a marvelous thing because you could barely afford rent. And then you remember you shouldn’t reveal your history with the Great Depression to a man you’re on your first date with.

“Yup.” You assert, and ask, “You?”

“Star Wars, any of them, and the Princess Bride.” Again, you make a note to add it to your list.

“Interesting.” You hum, and you find The Outsiders, wanting to read it, to consume it, to consume him, and every thought he has. The two of you meet at the end of the aisle, too close to be platonic as his hands come to find your arms, and you shudder at the affection.

“Touch starved, huh?” He grins. You flush and roll your eyes.

“You’re so mean.” You huff, and he laughs. His hand moves up your arms and cups your jaw, enjoying the feeling of your warm cheeks.

“Well, you’re odd.”

“Odd?”

“Everything about you. Your movie tastes, your jokes, your ice cream flavors.” He hums, with a soft shrug. “It’s not a bad thing, I’m just.. Trying to figure you out.”

“You’d be the first to accomplish such a feat.”

He laughs at that, and he’s so beautiful.. That you cannot help yourself when you lean up and gently press a soft kiss to those beautiful pretty pink lips that had caught your attention that morning. He kisses you back, without hesitation.

You feel at peace for the first time in years, as if everything you had gone through, every moment of torture and pain, has been worth it because it leads you to this. To Handsome Matthew, who kisses you so tenderly that no matter how simple it is, you are left breathless and desperate for more. You lean into him, deepening the kiss, pushing him back a bit, his back pressed against the stacks. The book in your hands is crumpled, and eventually, Matthew pulls away, before pushing you back a bit.

“Easy,” He says breathlessly, and you need the reminder, because you try to catch your breath. Holy shit. “Easy, easy..” he repeats, his hands rubbing up and down your arms a bit. “I’ve got you, just breath.” He laughs, and you lean your forehead against your shoulder. Fuck.

“When can I see you again?” Is your only thought, and he chuckles gently.

“Whenever you want.” He promises, and you nod, before leaning up to kiss him again.

One day you’ll tell him everything. You’ll tell him all of the horrible things you’ve done and have had done to you, and you’ll tell him why the nightmares came, and why they won’t ever go away. One day, you’ll tell handsome Matthew why you sleep with a gun under your pillow and why you have no family and why you are so odd.

For now, you decide that you deserve a few nice things.

And when he kisses back, you realize that maybe he is just as infatuated with you as you are with him. Maybe. Maybe he is full of secrets and his own horrors that plague him while he sleeps, and maybe that’s the unspoken reason you are so deeply fascinated with one another.

Maybe.

Maybe you’ve spent the past ninety years going from fight to fight, to nightmare to nightmare. Maybe you’re owed some time in the sun with Handsome Matthew.

Maybe.

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x y/n #daredevil fic #daredevil fanfiction #matt murdock fic #daredevil #matt murdock fluff #winter soldier!reader #tortured reader #super soldier reader #matt murdock fanfiction #daredevil fluff #daredevil x reader #netflix daredevil #matt murdock fanfic

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heavenlyraindrops · 5 months ago

Text

♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Twenty Five♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Twenty Five Warnings: profanity, sexual content, oral (f receiving), blowjobs, p in v sex, cowgirl, multiple orgasms, creampie, almost getting caught (? Idk) Visit the first tag on this post to see all other chapters.

♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱

[Chapter Twenty Five]

Charlie stumbled over to where Alastor lay motionless. Blood dripped from his nose, down his chin and trickled down his neck, and his only newly repaired cane lay bent and sparking. A small buzzing sound emanated from it, and when she leaned closer she realized it was a voice.

More specifically, Lucifer’s voice.

“I don’t care- lives or dies. I don’t care at all…It’s- fault she’s ended up-…to save her? Are you- Just leave her for the Vees.”

It was cracked and broken, but it was him. She turned around to see him carrying your limp body in his arms, with such tenderness that made her eyes well.

“Dad.”

He looked up. She pointed at the cane.

“Did you say any of this?”

His brow furrowed as he listened, then his face slowly darkened as he pieced two and two together. Vaggie came up behind the three of you.

“Maybe you and [name] should go inside,” she suggested to Lucifer, glancing at the way he looked at you and smiling. “We’ll worry about Alastor.”

He cleared his throat disconcertedly and nodded. “Right.”

He entered the building, still cradling you in his arms. Charlie and Vaggie both turned to each other, and their jaws dropped open.

“Ohmygoshdidyouseethat?!” Charlie practically squealed, gripping Vaggie’s arms. Vaggie nodded, eyes wide, and they both stared after the closed door which you and Lucifer had just gone through.

“I have so many questions.”

“Me too.”

You groaned, wings fluttering as you stirred. Bedsheets shifted beneath your hands. You shakily sat up, blearily blinking away the last traces of sleep as you took in your surroundings.

There was a yellow sticky note on the bedside cabinet. You pulled it away from the wood and read it.

We can talk when you’re ready. There’s a lot to discuss! You can take a bath in the en suite. We washed your clothes for you.

-Charlie :)

You frowned, swinging your legs around the edge of the bed and standing up. The plush carpet sank down slightly beneath your feet.

What happened?

You looked down. You were wearing a slip and some shorts- fresh. Who changed you?

The clothes mentioned in the note were folded in a neat pile next to the sticky note, along with a towel. You padded into the bathroom, switching on the tap in the bathtub and holding your hand underneath the steady stream of water. It was the perfect temperature.

Your clothes slid to the floor, and you stepped inside. Sliding inside the hot water, you combed through the feathers on your wings, a weak attempt to preen them.

A knock sounded on the doors, and you heard a muffled call of your name. Footsteps sounded as someone moved around in the bedroom, and they knocked on the bathroom doors.

“[name]?” It was Charlie. “You in there?”

Your heartbeat quickened with apprehension, even more so at your lack of recollection of events. “Yeah,” you called out hoarsely.

“Are you… I mean, can I come in?”

“If you must,” you replied curtly, still on guard.

You pulled your wings around you protectively as she slowly opened the door, peeking in then quickly averting her eyes. “I- hi.”

“Hello.”

She smiled apologetically. “I was just wondering if you’re doing okay.”

You didn’t have a response to that. Your hands gripped the sides of the bathtub as you moved to stand up, and she flung her hands in front of her face. “O-oh, no, don’t get up-“

“Oh, right. Forgot.” Your wings fluttered slightly with the cool air that hit them before you sank back down. Charlie’s lips twisted into an awkward smile as she tentatively made her way to the bathtub, as you squirted shampoo into your open palm.

“Am I in the hotel?” You asked flatly, massaging the foam through your roots. She blinked.

“I mean- yeah. Don’t you remember anything?”

“No, not really. Just coming here to get Vox.” Your fingers combed through your hair slowly as you stared at her, waiting for her reaction. Her lips formed a small ‘o.’

“That explains a lot. Like why you’re so tense.” She instinctively leaned forward with eagerness to explain the situation to you, but you pulled away, pressing your back to the cold, wet, tiled wall. “You… had a little… uh, I don’t know how to explain it. But you transformed…” she waved her hands around vaguely. “And kind of lost control, so my dad kind of had toâ€¦ uh, what’s the word? I don’t know what to call it.”

You raised an eyebrow.

Charlie snapped her fingers. “He tried to calm you down!” You could tell by her awkward grin that those were not the right words to use.

“And? Let me guess, it didn’t work, and he had to knock me out-“

“Oh, no, it worked. You just passed out. Must have been exhaustion.” She rubbed the back of her neck, looking away. “We… talked. He told me… stuff… and I-“ she sighed. “It must have been rough for you these past few days- I mean, a lot must have happened. You must have had a lot of emotions to handle.” She offered a small smile. “But, you’re here now, so maybe we can all talk it out! I mean, now that you’re a bit more… stable.”

“Wow, thank you,” you said dryly. She cleared her throat.

“So, I’ll leave you to it.”

Her footsteps faded and the door shut. You shuddered, lowering your head back into the water. Your hair spread in the water, curling around like tendrils of smoke. You closed your eyes.

You didn’t know how long you stayed like that until memories began to seep back. You opened your eyes. The water lapped at your skin with every slight movement. It had turned lukewarm with time. Your fingers had begun to prune.

You stepped out, beads of water rolling down your skin as you dried your hair and pulled on some proper clothes. You tugged a comb through your hair, hoping to undo the tangles, and a few knocks sounded on the door. You immediately knew it wasn’t Charlie-

Your heart leapt as you reached for the doorknob.

“Lucifer,” you breathed, not knowing what else to say. He looked at you, almost sick with nerves. Your eyes flew down to his rumpled shirt and disheveled hair. “…Hi.”

He stared at you, slightly flushed. “Hi.”

Your lips twisted into a bashful, awkward smile. He didn’t return it, instead stepping towards you, and this time you didn’t step away. He noticed, and suppressed an elated grin.

“Can we… talk?” He fiddled with his thumbs. “Properly this time. No…” he waved his hand. “Blowing up at each other or making accusations. Just. Talk.”

You smiled, eyes tired. “I’d like that.”

He let out a small, relieved chuckle, mostly at your expression. You patted the spot next to you on the bed. He sat down next to you, eyes falling to your lips, then flicking back up to meet your eyes.

“Firstly, I just wanted to start with-“ he ran his hands through his hair and sighed. “Whatever Alastor showed you, or made you listen to- it wasn’t true. I mean, it wasn’t real. I never said any of that.” His hand inched towards yours. “He showed us a recording of your voice too, which is why I…” he trailed off and looked away.

“It’s okay,” you murmured, creeping your hand towards his too until your fingers were intertwined. “I didn’t-“ you sucked in a harsh breath. “I didn’t react well. It’s just… so many things were happening and I’d lost so much and the thought of you leaving too I-“ tears welled up in your eyes and your throat closed up, so you quickly looked away. “I should have thought more.”

Lucifer smoothed back your hair. “It’s fine, angel, it’s fine to feel.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. I will not cry again. He was wearing a soft smile. You wanted nothing more than to trace the curve of his lips with your own, to steal his breath away, but-

“I was worried too, you know,” he murmured, fingers still on your skin, now brushing your cheek. “You didn’t contact me for ages.” He let out a deep sigh. “You know I would have come to you when I’d heard you’d fallen sooner.”

You nodded wordlessly. You both fell silent, the only sound filling the room your breathing.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, hyper aware of how close your faces were. His gaze softened.

“You don’t have to say that again, you know,” he chuckled. You bit your lip.

“What are we now?” You blurted, and immediately regretted it as you watched surprise register on his face. “I mean, I get it if you don’t- after everything, I mean it’s been so long so- and all the shit I’ve caused-“ your face turned hot as he placed his thumb on your lip, brushing ever so gently.

“Now why wouldn’t I want you anymore?” He asked, voice so quiet only you could have heard it.

“I-it would be understandable-“ you cut off with a sharp inhale as his thumb pressed down, parting your lips ever so slightly as he leaned forward, eyes falling closed.

You leaned into the kiss eagerly, his lips meeting yours with the desperation bottled up over the time you’d spent apart; his hands fell to your waist, drawing you closer to him as the kiss heated up. His tongue swiped over your bottom lip, and you let out a small moan, giving him access.

But at the last second he pulled away, both of you fighting for air. You opened your mouth to say something but he dove back in again, crushing his mouth on yours, his passion tasting far sweeter than anything Heaven could have given you. You whimpered as you both fell back onto the bed, and then did he finally pull away again, panting, face breaking into a breathless smirk.

“You’re with me now, darling,” he murmured. You flushed as he began pressing feverish kisses to the corner of your mouth, trailing down to your jaw, neck then collarbone. “And I think we have some proper catching up to do, hmm? What do you think, angel?”

All you could do was let out a small moan of agreement as heat pooled in between your thighs, one of which he grabbed, hooking it around his waist as he pinned you down on the bed, before another sloppy kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth.

A lustful haze clouded your mind as he slowly rolled his hips against yours, sending a wave of pleasure into your core. “Fuck, I missed you,” he growled against your lips, moving back down to your neck to suckle and bite, leaving as many marks as he thought it would take to show you were his.

You gently pushed him away and he looked up at you. “Wait, we can’t… right now-“ you glanced to the door, and the lock clicked into place. Lucifer smirked at you. You shivered. “What about Alastor? What are we going to do about him?”

He scoffed. “Are you seriously talking about him right now?” You squeaked as something brushed your waist. His tail. Your face burned hotter than the sun. “If I remember correctly, you have a favour to return.”

“Do I?” You squeaked, as his tail wrapped itself around your waist. He grinned, running his tongue over his sharp teeth.

“Mhm,” he hummed, fingers tracing down the column of your throat, the dip of your collarbone, to the collar of your top, and tugged slightly. “This comes off.”

You scrambled to get it off, hands shaking, as he pulled away from you, then crawled back into his lap, palming the growing tent in his trousers. He flinched. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Returning the favour,” you replied with the most innocent look on your face that he almost came right then and there. “Like you told me too.”

He bit his lip feverishly as you pulled his length from his boxers, swiping your thumb over the tip. You looked him straight in the eyes as you gave it a few languid strokes, making him hiss.

“That’s not what I- you don’t need to-“ You pressed your finger to his lips, giving him a coy smile.

“I think I do.” You lowered yourself in between his legs. “It would be unfair, right?”

He nodded shakily, suppressing a whimper as you gave the head kitten licks, hand still gently on the base, before dragging your tongue along the erection. He let out a small moan and you grinned.

“Enjoying this?” You teased, tongue slowly tracing a vein. He flinched, breathing hard, as you kissed the tip, and let out another breathier moan as you wrapped your lips around the head of his cock and slowly sinking down. You felt his hand tangle through your hair as you began bobbing up and down, his whimpers and groans slowly growing louder at your agonizing pace.

“Fuuuck… yeah,” he gasped, hips bucking up into your face. His head tipped back, chest heaving. “I think I’m gonna cum-“

You simply hummed in response, sending vibrations up his shaft, tipping him over the edge. His hand in your hair tightened, hips moving in tandem with your movements and fingers tangling through the strands as his hot load coated the inside of your mouth. You swallowed it down, gagging slightly as you pulled away, licking your lips. He stared at you.

“You swallowed.” His voice was barely a whisper.

You simply grinned in response, pushing yourself off of him. He crawled towards you, pinning you back down by the hips, his hands trailing down to your trousers, hooking around the waistband and tugging down. “Off,” he said, still dazed.

You pulled it off of your legs and threw it to the side, where it joined the growing pile of discarded clothing on the floor. He grinned, rubbing the dark, damp patch visible on the crotch of your panties, making you whimper slightly. His expression darkened.

“You like what we did last time, right?” He hummed, lips brushing the lobe of your ear. You nodded feverishly, bucking your hips, grinding against his hand with a small moan of his name. He just chuckled in response, ducking down, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder. His teeth sunk into the softness of your inner thigh, the pain and pleasure making you writhe as he licked the mark he’d left to soothe it.

His finger hooked around the waistband of your underwear, tugging it slightly as if he was testing it because the next second he tore it off of you. Your heat pulsed with excitement as he tossed the remaining fabric onto the floor, suckling at your inner thighs, lips trailing closer to your pussy.

“Where’d you even get black lace like that anyways, a newcomer in Hell?” He hummed. His eyes had turned blood red, and they were staring at you. You flinched, tipping your head back with a small groan as he kissed your clit.

“S-someone gave it to me,” you whimpered, mind flashing back to when Velvette had lent you new clothes to wear.

“Someone?” He chuckled, the deep sound vibrating against your core. You threw your hand over your mouth to stifle a particularly loud moan. “Not another man, I hope.”

You shook your head feverishly, screwing your eyes shut as he licked a long strip up your already soaked entrance, his long, long tongue hot on your skin. You let out another choked whimper as he pressed his thumb to your clit, breathing out slowly. “Good,” he murmured, then delved in.

You jolted, back arching and hips bucking as his tongue pushed its way into your folds, clutching at the bedsheets as you tried not to let out any lewd sounds, yet a few gasps and whimpers slipping past your lips as his tongue circled and flicked at your clit. “Oh, fuck, Lucifer-“

“Mhm?” He hummed, and the vibrations shook you harder this time, shockwaves into your whole body. “Tell me how good it feels, darling.”

“So good,” you gasped, vision blurring. “So so good…”

His tongue traced letters across your clit- was he writing his name? And you could feel tears form in your eyes as his fingers spread your folds as he pressed his face in between your thighs, lapping at you like a starved man. Your whole body shook.

Holy fuck.

“You taste so good,” he groaned, and the words almost tipped you over the edge.

“I think I’m gonna-“

“Go on, angel, you deserve it.” You could feel his smirk against your skin as you came, the orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your muscles numbed, legs shaking as he pulled away from your dripping cunt.

He crushed his mouth against yours again, knowing full well you could taste yourself on him. You tangled your fingers through his hair, whispering praises, begging him to fuck you, and it made his muscles tense with a need so intense he’d never felt before.

“I want you inside,” you whispered before nibbling at his earlobe, your hands trailing down his shoulders. You felt him tense underneath your palms, and he licked his lips before wiping his mouth.

“Yeah?” His voice was hoarse, eyes lidded with lust. You nodded, biting your lip as you looked at him with the most pleading expression you could muster.

You felt his cock, hard again, rubbing slickly against your cunt, and grinned through biting your lip. He let out a shaky breath, positioning himself against your entrance, and you tensed with anticipation.

He froze, seemingly thinking, then smirked. “Beg for it, then.”

You blinked, face burning. “Wh-what?”

He rolled his hips, rubbing up against you. His tip caught your clit and you whimpered. “Beg for it,” he repeated. “Show me just how much you want it.”

“You’re quite-“ you choked on your own words. “-You’re quite cocky, aren’t you?”

He tilted his head. “Sin of Pride, darling.” You hummed, trailing you hands down his arms, then back up to grip his shoulders and flipping him around. He blinked in surprise as you straddled his waist, grinning down at him.

“All that just so you don’t have to say a simple please?” He huffed, his voice dissipating into something shakier as you slowly dragged your cunt up his erection, slick with precum, and hummed.

Without any more words, you positioned yourself above him, slowly sinking down onto his cock. He hissed as you did so, hands finding their way to your hips, squeezing down on the soft flesh, fingers tracing circles into your skin as you rocked into him. He tipped his head back, stifling a groan as you set a rhythm, each rut of your hips into his sending pain sparking into your cunt.

“Fuck, this is annoying,” he hissed through gritted teeth, and you froze, looking up at him with questioning eyes. “H-having to be quiet,” he explained. His eyes shot to the door, and he rolled his hips against you, his cock hitting the perfect spot that made your head spin. You clamped your hand down over your mouth to muffle a moan. “See what I mean? Fuck, angel, when you move in with me we’re gonna be as loud as we fucking want, right?”

“Y-yeah,” you gasped with another thrust upwards from him, too cock-drunk to register the implications of his words. His grinned, his sharp teeth glinting.

“Good,” he hissed, thrusting again. You whimpered at the fiery throbbing sensation deep in between your legs, gripping his shoulders as his hands on your hips squeezed tighter, moving you up and down on his cock, slick with your arousal.

Someone knocked on the door.

You stared at him in horror, freezing, but he put a hand to his lips. “Who is it?” He called.

“Dad, it’s Charlie. Are you guys okay? It’s just been a while since you went in there.”

He smirked at the look on your face, languidly rolling his hips. The deep kiss of his cock in your walls made your eyes roll back, seeing stars. “Yeah, we’re fine.”

“Is [name] still in there?”

Where the fuck else would I be? You thought dully, but another thrust made you almost double over, panting hard as you dug into his shoulders. You stared at him, eyes pleading as you shook his head, but he just grinned.

“Yeah, she’s right here. We’re fine, right [name]?”

“Y-“ Another thrust, even deeper as he pressed you down against his crotch. You bit your lip, screwing your eyes shut and forcing down a moan. “Yeah,” you replied. Your voice was slightly hoarse.

There was silence on the other side for a few seconds. “Alright then! See you guys!” Charlie’s voice was as cheery as ever, before her footsteps faded away. You glared at Lucifer.

“Are you kidding me? That was so risky. What we got caught?”

He lifted you up slightly, guiding you on his cock, and you almost forgot your frustrations as the pleasure overtook you. “But we didn’t, did we? Relax, angel.” And you did, legs shaking as you resumed your pace.

“I think I’m gonna cum,” you mumbled feverishly. He let out a breathless, exilarated laugh, accompanied by a particularly brutal thrust. Your vision glazed over.

“Fuck, me too,” he gasped, fingers digging into your skin, sure to leave marks.

You bent down, crashing your lips onto his, kissing him with fervour before you pulled away by a centimetre, whispering against his lips. “Cum in me, Lucifer.”

And he did, inside you, coating your walls with his hot cum. You jolted, your own orgasm crashing around you in waves, legs shaking with stimulation. You pulled away from him, quivering, his cum dripping down your thighs.

“So, are we…” he paused, trying to catch his breath. “Are we good now?”

You nodded, snuggling up to him and burying your face into the crook of his neck. He threw his arm around you. “Yeah,” you breathed, letting yourself smile softly. “Yeah, we are.”

a/n: lmk if you enjoyed! :3c

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sweetsaladpainterranch · 1 month ago

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Idk if you do asks but can you do a 6 month old demon story where Al stays too late at a overlord meeting and you have to go get him??

Hope you're doing well!

Sure, I can give it a try. I hope it's what you were looking for lol 🙂

...

Challenges of Raising a 6 Month Old Demon

If Mama Ain't Happy...

...

It was 11:26 pm at the entrance to the Carmine Compound and you were knocking at the large metal door aggressively. Your husband had promised to be back home to in time to give you an evening off from your motherly and hotel responsibilities (a luxury you hadn’t had for quite some time), yet he still hadn’t shown up for hours past when he was due to reappear. You were more pissed off than worried, so, without any other choice, you strapped your dozing fawn to your chest and set off.

After about 10 minutes of banging, you were greeted by the unenthusiastic, but familiar, demeanor of Carmillia Carmine. “I believe you have something of mine.”, you firmly voiced out. In response the tall demoness merely nodded and lead you up in the elevator. Your ire was palpable. You very clearly felt the raised tension in the air as static buzzed over your skin and your sensitive ears picked up the voice of an angry Alastor and another, equally aggressive voice coming from the room you were approaching. Evangeline also felt and heard the familiar aura of her father as she kicked her little hooves out excitedly. “We we’re hoping you would come to get him.”, Carmillia sighed tiredly when she pushed open the door and gestured to the two arguing men, “They’ve been in this pissing contest for hours!”

You looked around the room and spotted your mate leaning over his cane and arguing into the flat face of Vox. Rosie smiled at your tired face with sympathetic expression and shrugged her thin shoulders. “And another thi-“, Alastor was cut off when he heard the high pitched shriek of his daughter who was wriggling in her carrier. His ears flattened onto his head as he immediately jerked his head around to meet the fury of your gaze. “Ah…d-darling, I was just on my way home when this blowhard dared to comment on my-“, he cut himself off once again when you silently, but intently, walked towards him. The room’s tension rose with every step you took.

It wasn’t often that you found yourself upset, but your anger was always a force to be reckoned with, and Alastor was far too intelligent to pit himself against it. So he merely stood still in silent terror.

You stopped directly in front of him, face to chest, before quickly throwing him over your shoulder. Vox laughed at Alastor’s embarrassed bleat but the glare you shot in his direction wiped away any of his amusement. You held your scrawny Alastor tightly and turned on your heel to leave.

“I believe this playdate is over.”, you uttered softly to everyone in the boardroom and took your family home.

...

Sorry it's kinda short, Anon. I actually wrote this really quick while my own fawn was distracted by The Wiggles 😂

(p.s.- I friggin hate The Wiggles now)

-SSPR

#hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor x you #babies be cray

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cripplecharacters · 7 months ago

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hey! I recently realized that one of my stories has a serious lack of physically disabled characters (one secondary character has a facial difference) and I'd love advice on what physical differences and disabilities are in more intense need of representation. I know one of my characters is going to be missing a limb, but idk whether they should be an amputee or just born that way, and what limb/ where it should be missing/if it should be underdeveloped or just totally gone. I want to know what type of limb differences are most underrepresented so I can do some research and see if I could feasibly add it to my character. I'd also like to hear some other general physical disorders and disabilities that need more rep (all physical differences need more rep but yk what I mean)

Most if not all of my characters are autistic/adhd or both, although it isn't mentioned (they're just like that because I as a person can't write neurotypical people)

Hello!

As mod Rot has said before, every disability is currently underrepresented (and those that seem represented are often, well, not getting the best rep to say the least). With that said, I do know what you mean, and there are some that are less represented than others.

For a missing limb specifically it might seem like it's "overrepresented", but in reality there's a ton of limb differences that I have absolutely never seen represented in any way, shape, or form. There's simply way more options than creatives ever consider.

The most common cause of acquired amputation is actually not represented much at all - diabetes. Almost all amputations in media are traumatic, but that's not necessarily how it is.

In most cases, the smaller the amputation the more common it is. A lot of characters in media have a shoulder amputation (with a prosthetic, of course), but that's probably the rarest possible one in real life. It's also worth mentioning that the fewer joints you have, the harder it is to use a prosthetic. A knee can change everything.

If they're missing a leg, consider giving them a mobility aid - connecting to the previous point, the higher someone's amputation is the higher the chance they will use them over a prosthetic, but anyone can use them.

Or, they can use both a prosthetic and a wheelchair/crutches at different times. Or they can use prosthetics with mobility aids, like a cane, crutches, or a rollator to help with balance!

Losing a leg is also incredibly more common than an arm, but in media it's the other way around for some reason.

Congenital limb difference of the not-full-amputation variety isn't seen much either, and it has more types than I could possibly list here, but I'll try; phocomelia, symbrachydactyly, micromelia, radial aplasia, ectrodactyly, tetraamelia, polysyndactyly... The only character that I know of with any of these has been made by my friend. Certainly not a popular thing to represent.

To go with the above, think about syndromes that cause limb differences! Some examples could be Ellis–Van Creveld syndrome, Otopalatodigital syndrome spectrum disorders, Pfeiffer syndrome, Joubert syndrome, or the VACTERL association. Or a thousand other things!

Limb loss due to cancer is also a thing! It also relates to a very specific kind of amputation, called rotationplasty, and it's when a person has their knee replaced with their ankle, and their foot is well, rotated. That's how important having a joint is.

Also I know that you said limb and not limbs, but remember that multiple amputations are a thing as well! For example bilateral above knee (often called BAKA), or quadruple amputation are greatly underrepresented :-)

As for non-limb loss underrepresented physical disability ideas, well, all of them, but just for the sake of some new ideas I will try to list ones that AFAIK haven't even been mentioned on the blog at all before (at least as of writing this).

CHARGE syndrome

Hyperthyroidism

Hypohidrotic ectodermal dysplasia

Hereditary trochlear nerve palsy

Harlequin-type Ichthyosis

Locked-in syndrome

Chronic obstructive pulmonary disease

Primordial dwarfism

Addison's disease

Duchenne muscular dystrophy

Apert syndrome

Charcot Marie Tooth disease

Usher syndrome

Nager syndrome (also, causes limb differences)

Peripheral Artery Disease

[links lead to very basic information pages]

These are just some ideas for disabilities that are 1) physical and 2) very underrepresented, some visible, some not - I hope it gives you some ideas for what to research for your character(s)! I tried to list both very common and rare ones :-)

You can also take a look at our #disabled character ideas tag, or posts like this (there's a lot of facial differences listed, mostly at the end) :-)

I hope this helps!

mod Sasza

#mod sasza #anonymous #disabled character ideas #limb differences

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bunmurdock · 26 days ago

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Kit-Murdock here, don’t mind me, I’m just thinking about how strong Matt is :p

Ik we all love manhandling and stuff but I’m thinking specifically about restraint. I need him to show me how weak I am compared to him, I need to struggle to get away from him only to fail miserably, need him to laugh at me for thinking I ever had a chance :( Like idk something about him pinning my arms behind my back and using them as leverage while fucking me from behind is so :3

Or simply just locking your wrists together and pinning them above your head with one hand 😵‍💫

Maybe when ur bratting he’ll grab your wrist when you go to reach for something, and it’s like no matter how hard you tug he won’t let go, just staring at you with that disapproving look and a raised eyebrow 😚 (lowkey need him to leave bruises all over me 🙏🙏) bonus points if he grabs your other wrist and backs you up against a wall 😘

WHINING SO LOUDDD. it got me thinking 🥺

you’re sprawled out across matt murdock’s bed, arms crossed in a defiant pout as he stands at the foot, shaking his head at you with that knowing smile. he had come home late from work, to find that you’d been up to all kinds of mischief while he was away—messing with his files, hiding his red glasses, even snatching his cane and stashing it away “for safekeeping.”

“thought you were cute, huh?” he asks, eyebrow raised, voice low and teasing as he steps closer. "that little attitude of yours still needs breaking."

you roll your eyes, scrunching your nose up. “come on, matty! maybe you’re just overreacting. just a little fun, right?” you grin. you’re still sprawled across his sheets, legs swinging off the edge of the bed like you don’t have a care in the world.

he lets out a deep, amused chuckle, and it’s so smug that it sends a shiver up your spine. then, before you know it, he’s wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling you to your feet with one smooth, steady motion that has you stumbling forward, right into his chest. you squeak, barely catching your balance as your free hand grabs onto his shirt, and he chuckles, that low, warm laugh filling the space between you.

“you sure about that, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his voice a low, playful growl as his fingers tighten around your wrist, pinning it against his chest.

“matt, let me go!” you whine, but the attempt is so weak you might as well not even be trying, and matt raises an eyebrow, that infuriating smirk tugging at his lips.

“yeah?” he murmurs, tugging you just a little closer, his tone practically daring you. “how about you break free and we'll call it even?”

you let out a dramatic little huff, twisting your wrist to try and pull free. but he’s already taken your other hand, trapping them both in his grip like it’s the easiest thing in the world. he pulls you closer, and his hold is so firm, so unyielding, that every squirm and wriggle just seems to make him more amused.

“oh, now you’re in trouble,” he mocks softly, voice thick with laughter as you try to wriggle against his hold, knowing full well it’s not making any difference. “that your best?” his breath is warm against your cheek as he leans in closer, his mouth just barely brushing your skin. “i don’t think you’re even trying, sweetheart.”

you kick out a little, huffing in frustration, cheeks heating up as you push against his chest. “i am trying,” you say, your voice petulant as you wriggle again, clearly getting nowhere in his grip.

“are you, now?” his hold tightens just a fraction, enough to make you squirm harder, feeling the strength in his grip as he raises your wrists above your head, pressing them against the wall. “feels like i could keep you here all day,” he says, his tone a soft, taunting whisper that makes your cheeks burn. “what do you think?” he leans close, his mouth by your ear. “if i let you go now, you’re just going to come running back, aren’t you?”

“would not!”

“hmm,” he murmurs, pretending to think about it, his eyes dancing with mischief. “maybe you’re right. let’s see… why don’t you try using those little legs of yours?”

you let out a whiny little sound but dig your heels into the floor, pressing your legs hard as you try to push him back. but matt doesn’t move an inch, his smirk growing as he’s thoroughly entertained by every ounce of effort you put in. “aw, that’s cute,” he laughs. “really putting your back into it, huh?”

“s’not cute!” you rasp, cheeks even warmer as you turn your head with a huff. you kick your legs again, hoping the movement might surprise him, but he just holds you steady, his fingers gentle as he guides your face back toward him with a playful smirk.

“oh, poor thing,” he teases. “use your hips, sweetheart—see if you can throw me off balance.”

you wriggle, pushing your hips to the side, twisting a little and giving it all you’ve got—but all it does is bring you closer, his hand tightening around your wrists as he leans in, his mouth so close you can feel his breath. “that it?” he chuckles, eyes bright with laughter as he tilts his head. “i thought you were a little tougher than that.”

“m’gonna get away if you keep teasing,” you mutter, cheeks burning as your mind scrambles.

“no, you’re not.”

“this isn't fair!” you whine, voice trembling with both frustration and something else you’re trying hard to ignore. “matt, lemme go!” you say, stomping a little.

“no, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with amusement as he cups your jaw, tilting your face up. “you’re just a—little—brat,” he says, tapping your cheek in sync with his words. “and you thought you could get away with it. is that it?”

you give another tug, yanking with all your strength this time, feeling the strain in your shoulders, but matt doesn’t even budge. instead, his grip tightens just a little more, his fingers pressing into your wrists as he holds you there, smirking down at you with that infuriating, knowing look.

“that all you’ve got?” he murmurs, voice a soft, mocking whisper that makes your cheeks burn even hotter.

“thought you’d put up more of a fight, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice gentle, almost a coo, as his thumb brushes over your lips. “guess i was wrong, huh?”

you let out a little whine, cheeks blazing as you wriggle again, your legs kicking in frustration as you turn your head with an exaggerated pout. “matt, you’re so mean!”

“poor thing,” he laughs, his voice soft and full of teasing sympathy as he taps your cheek once more. “did you really think you’d get away?”

“because i think you belong right here, don’t you?”

masterlist

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock smut #mean!matt #inbox #bunny brain #lawyer!matt #bratty!reader #!degradation #>500 words #bun’s

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gingerlee-holds · 5 months ago

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Letting Off Steam

this is a bday fic for @littleleesblog!! my first steps into the hazbin writing community heehee! idk if people like this one, ill write sequels about him getting charlie (me), angel, idk we'll see

btw yada yada this is a tword fic- Ler!Alastor Lee!Lucifer

Word Count: Reading Time: Warnings: Idk, swearing? Alastor bein a lil shit? barely any editing?

If you prefer a quieter living space, perhaps the Hazbin Hotel isn’t for you. Loud arguments and the commonplace occurrence of walls being blown in could make for a very harsh experience on the ears - not to mention the frequent singing. There were, however, a few locations at the hotel where it’s quiet, such as Charlie’s room, the library, and, shocking nobody, Alastor’s radio station, located on the far northern side of the hotel on the very top floor. Whenever Alastor got the chance, he stayed in that room for as long as possible during the day - usually to avoid being roped into the shenanigans of the other hotel residents.

On one particular day, however, it seemed like the radio demon couldn’t catch a damn break.

Charlie had called him to the lobby at 7 AM to settle a disagreement between Vaggie and Angel regarding “Breakfast Booze” at the bar. Then, not an hour later, Lucifer was badly practicing the accordion in the lounge. This was followed shortly after that by the TV demon, Vox, interrupting Cherri’s favorite show to deliver a laughably defamatory news segment on Alastor’s performance in his fight with Adam, accompanied by such phrases as ‘pussied out’ and ‘spineless.’ It should come as no surprise that he was already stressed when Charlie cheerfully gathered everybody in the lobby. His entire face hurt with the exertion required to keep a smile.

“Okay, everyone,” Charlie began. I was thinking, what better way to celebrate the grand opening of the newly refurbished hotel than by playing hide-and-seek?” She did a little twirl as she finished, trying vainly to excite her friends.

Angel Dust raised his hand and, not waiting to be called on, asked, “How the hell does that follow?”

Undeterred, Charlie continued. “Hide and seek is a game that requires exploration! We put a lot of work into rebuilding this place, so we should try to enjoy it! Now, who would like to seek first…?”

A hunt. Oh, what luck that on such a poor day as that, Alastor could finally stretch his legs a little and do what he did best: scare the living daylights out of people! His smile widened, and his eyes squinted like a shark when blood was in the water. He stepped forward with perfect posture as always, resting his hand on his cane. “I would be delighted to!”

“No-” Both Lucifer and Husker had begun to protest, but Charlie clapped her hands with glee. Everyone knew she was just happy to have someone invested in her activities.

“Perfect! Count to sixty, and then come look for us!”

“Oh, splendid.” The radio demon casually walked over to the wall, closing his eyes as if it mattered. Hands resting on his cane, he chuckled softly to himself. “One.” He heard silence behind him. “Two.” Again, he heard nobody move.

‘They must not be taking this seriously,’ he thought. Gradually, the sound of radio static began to hum through the lobby as Alastor’s antlers grew larger.

“Three.” Still nothing.

‘I won’t let them ruin this for me, not after today. Drastic measures, then,’ Alastor thought. He cleared his throat innocently. Then a deer call echoed around the room as he turned his head all the way around on his neck, eyes the shape of bright red dials and smile of sharp teeth impossibly wide.

“FOUR.”

It had its intended effect. All of the hotel’s residents yelped various exclamations and expletives and took off in every direction, unsure if they were now hiding for their victory in the game or their lives.

Alastor chuckled softly and turned back towards the wall, appearing normal again. He continued counting, interspacing the numbers with tunes he remembered from a past life, patting his cane to the rhythm. ‘I really should sing more often. It’s a shame I don’t often get the chance,’ he mumbled. Alastor knew he would find each hider eventually - after all, he had a lot of practice with hunting overlords - but Charlie had not mentioned a time limit, meaning he would take his sweet time to savor the silence and the hunt. When he finished counting, he decided to be a bit theatrical and sent a shockwave through the ground at the tap of his cane, instantly turning off every light in the hotel. He turned, smiled eagerly, and sank into the ground as a shadow, moving through the darkness like a cloud of smoke. ‘Now… who to look for first?’

Lucifer Morningstar, king of hell, didn’t realize how fast he was flying until about a minute after Alastor’s little scare. It upset him a little to discover how easily startled he had been, especially since he had easily beaten Adam, who had easily beaten Alastor. He sighed in annoyance as the lights above him went out, and to keep from flying into a wall, he flew to a stop, landing gracefully on the ground. With a subtle flap, his wings glowed softly, surrounding his hallway with a gentle golden light. He walked forward, not looking for a hiding spot. He had a feeling that that didn’t matter.

He suddenly felt a chill on his back. Lucifer whirled around, staring closely into the dark hallway behind him. Sensing no movement, he huffed and walked backward a bit, turning back around only to walk into the chest of the radio demon, letting out an indignant squawk.

“Ah, your highness! It seems you were the first to be found! You’re not very good at this, you know~!” Alastor said in that smug tone.

“Well, Mr. What’s-His-Name,” Lucifer replied as he wiped off the front of his suit before confidently resting both hands on his apple cane. “I’ll have you know I’m only doing this to make my daughter happy. I don’t fear you, busboy.”

Alastor’s eyes narrowed in determination. There was no way he was letting any of the other hotel residents come out on the other side of this activity willing to mess with him. That meant attitude-correcting. “You know I mean no disrespect, your highness!” he said, twirling his cane in one hand while adjusting his tie. “I simply had higher expectations of you!”

“As did I for you! I cannot believe my Charlie put her faith in you of all demons to keep her safe. You had one job, and you-” Lucifer stopped when Alastor sank into the shadows again, disappearing. “Typical.” The king began walking forward again, doing all that he could to give off the impression that he wasn’t scared, but all the effort in the universe couldn’t have held back the squeak that came to his lips when he felt a poke to his side.

“Oh, my~! Someone’s a little on edge~!” came a delighted voice from the darkness. Lucifer growled in frustration and extended his wings to make the hallway as bright as daylight. Unfortunately, this is what Alastor intended, which Lucifer soon discovered when he felt claws scribbling in the pits of his wings, right on the sensitive area where they connected to his back. “Now, what an unfortunate weakness for royalty to possess~!”

Lucifer squealed, buckling over and landing on his knees on the floor. Alastor had suspected that the fallen angel was ticklish since Charlie was a walking tickle spot, but verifying it like this was nothing short of delicious for him.

“Youhuhu- youhuhuhu lihihihittle-! Cuhuhut ihihit ouhuhut!” Lucifer’s strength had left him for some reason, and he found himself powerless to defend himself from the radio demon’s attack. Giggling like a child, he tried in vain to reach around behind him to swat away the attack, but this only opened him up more. Alastor’s claws zipped around and wriggled into his ribs, causing the king to let out an outrageously embarrassing squeal. He swung around to free himself, extending his wing to fling back the demon. It made no contact as he landed with a thump on his back, his hat tossed aside.

“Ah, ah, ah~! I have to make sure you play the game better next time! After all, it’s only fair that there should be consequences for losing, especially being the first to lose!” From beneath him, hands grew from the floor to scribble into Lucifer’s wing pits again, making the fallen angel arch his back in surprise.

“DahAhahahamn yoUhUhuhUuHU!” he laughed, kicking his feet a little. He reached back again to defend himself, only to be met by his apple cane, quickly used to pin his elbows to the floor with a yelp.

“Fell for it again~! Tsk, tsk, your highness! We all must learn from our mistakes here at the Hazbin Hotel~!” Alastor suddenly materialized in front of him, leaning casually against his cane as he smugly observed the plight of the king of hell.

“Yeah, well, you’re a-” Lucifer’s taunt was cut off by his shriek when shadowy hands grew from the ground to wriggle their fingers against his ribs. Alastor’s cooing was absolutely not helping, and it took everything in him not to whine when he felt the hands undo his coat and vest, leaving him in his plain undershirt.

“There we are, now to teach you a lesson!” Alastor watched as his shadow hands continued their evil work, relishing every second of the king’s humiliation. He had ghostly digits wiggling against the ribs, scribbling in the wing pits, and he had just summoned two more hands to squeeze experimentally on the thighs, making Lucifer squeal like Angel’s pig. The fallen angel’s wings flapped on the floor, but his arms were pinned, keeping him firmly grounded.

Alastor smirked and stepped forward, leaning down to wiggle a claw against the king’s belly. “You’re far too precious to act all tough, Your Highness! Don’t worry, I’ll let the others know about this discovery of mine~!” With that, he stood tall, straightened his suit, and turned to walk away, fading into the hallway’s darkness.

“D-dohoHohn’t youhu fu-fuhuhuhCKING-!!” Lucifer couldn’t even get the words out as one final hand scribbled along his collarbone. He could do nothing but lie there on the hallway floor and laugh, hoping that Alastor would eventually have mercy. It might be a while before then since he was the first one found. Maybe he would have to put more effort into hiding next time…

Read the next part here!

#kayde wrote something woah #kayde's in a lee mood tag #ler!alastor #lee!lucifer #hazbin hotel tickles #tickle fic #hazbin hotel tickle #tickle fluff #sfw tickling community #sfw tkl community #tword community

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wormshirt · 10 months ago

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As someone who uses a mobility aid and has muscular tension that cause me general body and joint pain and stiffness from the hips down on both sides what would kill me with doctor who wouldn't be the running it'd be the fucking stairs. They don't always have stairs in doctor who but oh boy when they do. I can run super fast and then inevitably injure my hips and suffer through it and keep limping along through the pain but if it's a flight of stairs between me and safety I'm so dead. If I don't take those stairs 1 step at a time my knees WILL lock or my muscles will throw such a massive hissy fit that it'll take me TWICE the time it takes your average person to go up those stairs and I will be killed or kinapped or put through some strange and unusual scifi horror by step 3. The doctor and I (limping) run down 50000000 hallways and we reach the end of a hall with only a reasonably sized staircase on the other end of it and the doctor immediately starts vaulting up the steps 3 at a time until he turns around and notices that I have stopped completely at the bottom of the steps to stare at him blithely. He starts trying to get me to go up the stairs or ask what the hell I think I'm doing and I slowly lower myself back down to the ground and cross my arms over my chest and begin reciting funeral prayers with a serene smile. The big evil monster comes after me and I am eaten. Badly. The doctor yells NOOOOO really loud and cries a little maybe idk and then is emo about it for like half a season until they end up back by the staircase in a season finale or something and it's revealed that the stairs are magic stairs that preserve the conciousness of any ugly ass bitch who hates staircases enough and the doctor is implied to have know this all along. and the doctor gives me some heartbroken major depressive disorder poster child look and a little speech about how they "couldn't have come back here for blah blah excuses reasons" and I smile sweetly and say "why the fuck didn't you have an emergency exit strategy or some shit incase the guy who uses a fucking cane couldn't do some shit like go up stairs super fast because he uses a fucking cane. Hello. Not even mad. Are you stupid. You are a timelord. Your people let your gay ass fuck off to who knows where because you're the dumbest timelord ever and they couldn't stand your stupid ass. I can't believe I'm stuck on this gay ass space station with this lame ass death for all of eternity because you didn't think that the guy who struggles to go up stairs would struggle to go up stairs. You wanna know what the alien said to me before he ate me. He said hey that dude you're here with sucks so bad and is stupid and gay and lame as hell. And I would have said 'yeah lol' but then he ate me. He ate me because of stairs doctor. Stairs." And then I'd stay forever trapped with my soul in that staircase just so I could spend the rest of enternity sending spam calls and telemarketers to the tardis phone. The doctor's investigating something outside an alien bar somewhere and sees ads like XXX Brittany Wants To Spend a NIGHT With YOU Sexy! Hot Singles in your area! Call here for a night of FUN! HOT SINGLE Xxeksifloryean Milfs Looking For a MATE in GALAXIES NEAR YOU!!!!❤️❤️❤️ and softly puts a hand on the posters and goes "I'm sorry I couldn't save you....." five seconds later jerry from *TOTALLY REAL* intergalactic statefarm NOT A FAKE NOT A SCAM calls up the doctor on the TARDIS phone to ask about the doctor's insurance info. Somewhere I kick an ugly ass step on a stupid fucking staircase and break my ghost toe. I hop around and start swearing.

#doctor who #dw #long post #the doctor #bangers #<-original post tag

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starbunii · 5 months ago

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Hey there friend! I’m not sure if your requests are open, and I’m very very sorry if they’re not, but I was wondering if you could do headcanons for Kokichi, Nagito and Byakuya with a gn disabled s/o? I have really bad knees and sometimes have to use crutches or a wheelchair, and I was wondering how they’d be with that? Take your time, thank you so much and remember to take care of yourself <3

this one was rlly interesting to write!! i really like these types of asks, bc they allow me to think about how these characters would help their s/o, which is always heartwarming to think abt! i hope you don't mind me writing for nagito the most! he's a character that's very dear to me. i wanted to lean more into the fact that he's also disabled, bc i think that's really important to talk abt! either way, i hope you liked how this turned out!!

i know more abt chronic pain (guess what i have haha) than i do most disabilities, so i kind of touched on that a bit. i hope you dont mind too much

+ ° . ୨ ♡ ୧ . °

╰╮🩰🧁〣 ♡ 〢🥛

byakuya togami

spoils you to no end, in like...the most neutral way possible??? idk if that makes sense

like ensures your wheelchair is very comfortable and up to date, that you're supported when using your crutches

couches p much all around the house; that way you can sit whenever you need

a warm bath will help? his butler is already on it, bringing warm tea as well.. maybe some cookies

he'll mostly stay with you indoors, a bit afraid that something will happen and you won't be able to get help

let's just hope you like his incredibly vast library, that's where most of your dates will probably be

nagito komaeda

given that he's disabled himself, he understands a lot of the things you're going through

most days, it's hard for him to walk as well, due to his dementia

if you're ever feeling bad about your disability, he'll always comfort you! it's something he's kind of insecure about too

will 100% decorate his wheelchair to match his (idk i feel like he would have both a cane and a wheelchair, but that's just me)

you both kind of have to cling to each other when it comes to stairs, holding each other with one hand, and the railing with the other

he always has heated blankets lying around the house, so if you ever start to experience really bad pains, he's always got you covered

being a disabled couple just means you have to rely on each other a bit more. but he doesn't mind at all. it reminds him that he's not helpless or worthless; that someone loves him enough to allow him to help and to help in return <3

kokichi ouma

sometimes just wants to bridal carry you

is he strong enough to? no! does he want to? absolutely!

similar to nagito, he'll decorate your crutches and your wheelchair. he doesn't want you to think of them as dull little things. they're your assistants! they should be fun!

honestly, when Kokichi isn't with other people, he's kind of a couch potato, so you two probably won't go places together

however, if you go somewhere without him and something happens, he'll be there right away, no questions asked

he knows you can handle most things yourself, but doesn't mind helping out when you need him too (expect a bit of teasing though)

#danganronpa #danganronpa x reader #danganronpa thh #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa 2 goodbye despair #byakuya togami #byakuya x reader #kokichi ouma #kokichi ouma x reader #nagito komaeda #nagito x reader #ghost.writes #✦﹕shortcake ꒰🍰 ⸝⸝⌗#﹒★ cinnamon sugar 🥞 ﹗彡

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lanshappycorner · 7 months ago

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I'm here to defend Pacciofinn's honor here is my essay and breakdown as to why pacciofinn is actually a banger ship

(*ummm going back after writing this entire thing, this ended up becoming mainly a carpaccio character analysis with some additional yaoi on the side but please by all means read it anyways)

(**Also disclaimer this is my own interpretation of the characters and their relationship. If you don't agree then you're wrong it is what it is 😔 I'm not the author so I can't tell you that I am completely right either even if I am. Additionally, warnings for spoilers in this essay)

I think to understand pacciofinn you'd have to understand Carpaccio as a character because I do think that people do like to paint him as just a Bad Guy or a bully and I'm not going to say he doesn't have his flaws because. He does. He's first presented as an asshole who hurts people weaker than him but his character isn't as simple as just "a bad guy"

To start off with, Carpaccio was born and immediately chosen by the Healing Cane. As such, he's basically been held to a pedestal his entire life, always doing what he wants and always being allowed to do what he wants because of his potential.

In addition, it's important to note that he can't feel pain. He has never felt pain a day in his life and idk how else to tell you this but clearly this has fucked him up greatly although he may not be aware of it

In order to understand Carpaccio, you'd have to understand his relationship with pain. Essentially, Carpaccio does not know what pain is. He knows what it is in theory, he knows that people can feel it and it is allegedly bad and painful, but how could he understand what "painful" is if he never felt pain?

To Carpaccio, pain is nothing more than a weapon. He is aware that others are hurt because of it, but he can't make the connection as to why this pain is so bad that they can't stand it, because he's never felt it himself.

It's likely he underestimates how pain feels, and this creates some sort of mentality in which he views others as inherently weaker than him because pain to him is truly not that bad. Because he can't feel it. He can't empathize

On the topic of empathy. You hesitate to hurt others because you know how it feels to be hurt, you understand the basic feeling of pain—there is basically almost no one on earth that hasn't felt pain because pain is a warning from your body to avoid certain things.

But if someone has never felt pain before, not only will they be reckless with their body, they will be reckless with other's safety. To them, there is no consequence to injury, and they cannot fathom the pain of others to care enough to take it into consideration.

Simply put, Carpaccio has never had to face the conquences of his actions. He's never felt the pain of stabbing himself, and due to the fact that he's chosen by the Healing Cane, he likely does not face any normal consequences for the trouble he causes others either due to his actions

This has in turn greatly stunted his emotional capabilities, however that doesn't mean that he lacks them. Carpaccio knows to respect people that he acknowledges are stronger than him, he knows his place. He's divided the world into the weak and the strong, and the only way he can "empathize" with the world is to empathize with the strong.

He understands the feeling of having power over others, he understands the feeling of superiority, of arrogance and confidence. These are the only emotions he Can connect with because he's never been on the side of the weak, he's never felt threatened or hurt.

Also, you have to keep in mind that this society is heavily focused around the concept of the weak and the strong.

The magicless are weak and should be rid of, the strong are ranked by their lines and strength. It should be no surprise that Carpaccio's apathy to the suffering of the weak is initially a core character trait of his, considering his own situation and the society he lives in.

So, so far we've established Carpaccio's base character before any character development. But the good stuff comes after

During his fight with Finn, he's made it clear that Finn disgusts him because he assumes that Finn got in due to his brother's influence (which is not the case). He hates people who put in effort knowing that they will never succeed, because he cannot understand their struggles.

This goes back to empathy and sympathy. Carpaccio has never had to put much effort into anything to get to where he is, and it's not that he's never put in effort into anything at all, but it's not quite the same. I'm sure that he puts effort into his research, but in general, he's never been "weak" enough to face a situation where he will fail.

Also, he was "chosen". All his life, he's been told that he was "chosen", and that's why he is where he is. In this world, there's a heavy emphasis on being chosen by magic or gods or whatever. To Carpaccio, the strong and the weak are determined by them being chosen. Those who were not chosen have no chance of being strong because they weren't chosen to be strong, it's simple.

It also goes to show his logic. Carpaccio's view of the world is so black and white and simple, that he comes off as almost childish. He doesn't have any grasp on how his actions may affect others, and even if he's told so, he can't...connect the dots.

If he hurts someone, then he hurts them. He can't make the connection as to why it would be bad because he was chosen and they were not. He's strong, so he has the right to disregard them.

Because his worldview is made up of the weak and the strong, he thinks that effort is wasted on the weak, and they should stay where they are. He doesn't understand what it means to feel helpless, he doesn't understand why the weak would want to be strong, and he's happy with the status quo he's created in his mind.

This is also why he directly states that people who never succeed and still try their hardest bother him the most. Why does it bother him? Why is someone trying to overcome the position they were born in bother him the most? We can only assume that it is because he views them as a threat.

Someone that challenges his way of thinking and all of his ideologies is something he despises because it is a hit at his own status as someone who was chosen. There's also the fact that he probably just finds them pathetic, because he knows that they'll never amount up to him, and he doesn't want to risk thinking about if they could.

But also, when it comes to pain, Carpaccio does want to feel it. How could he not? It's the one thing in his life that he's never felt, it's his greatest weapon, and yet he doesn't know what it feels like. He can't imagine what it feels like.

Being able to feel pain is the one thing that he cannot understand, so of course he'd want to know about it. However, he's split the world into the strong and the weak, and he's deemed those who are strong to be the only people capable of giving him the pain he wants.

That is why he doesn't like dealing with people he considers weak--they basically don't exist to him. They can't help him get what he wants, and as far as Carpaccio is aware, they're basically a waste of space. Which is a really fucked up and a detached view of the world tbh but on that topic...

Carpaccio himself says that he sees the world as a haze. There is no one he can connect to, no one he can understand completely, and no one who understands him. What he seeks is pain, but beyond that pain, perhaps he doesn't realize it, is a want for connection.

When Mash finally beats the shit out of him, he's finally able to empathize with the weak for the first time in his life. Or rather, perhaps he's beginning to understand that his worldview was kinda fucked up, and the world is not nearly as black and white as he thought.

When Carpaccio is hurt, for the first time in his life he instinctively knows what "hurt" is. This phrase—"it hurts"—repeats in his mind over and over again, and it's really just proof that he's still human as much as he's come to think of himself as above that.

He's reminded of his own humanity, and along with the pain that he can instinctively recognize, comes feelings of fear. He describes pain to be awful and frightening, and for the first time in his life, he can finally empathize with his peers, with everyone that he's ever hurt, because he now understands feelings of pain.

Carpaccio's apathy stems from a place from lack of empathy, but now that he can empathize, the first thing he thinks about is how much he put Finn through. Carpaccio is barely just learning how to understand other people, and the first thing he realizes is how severely fucked up it was that he did all of that to Finn.

These feelings turn into ones of disbelief—because he can't comprehend how someone can endure something so frightening for someone else's sake. As far as we know, Carpaccio is a very selfish person. He does things for his own interest and his own gain.

To endure things for others is unfathomable, and to endure pain, which he now knows to be awful and frightening, is probably just...baffling. Finn is enduring all these terrible things, and it's not even for himself.

Finn has outmatched Carpaccio in terms of endurance and character, and even Carpaccio himself admits to it at the end of the battle because as arrogant as he was, the moment he felt his first taste of pain, he had instantly lost. Like, he didn't even try to get up

He could not continue to fight, even for his pride, simply because...pain was scary.

So what I feel like a lot of people miss is that Carpaccio is the way he is because of the circumstances that he was born in that led him to have a twisted view of the world, but the moment he's able to feel human, when he's able to feel pain and fear, he becomes a lot more normal than you'd think.

(It's not an excuse for his behavior of course, but it is a huge part of his characterization that I feel like people tend to forget.)

After the battle, you can see he's now on good terms with Max, who he formerly beat up. Although it's not explicit, it's kind of implied that he's changing for the better, because Carpaccio is someone who categorizes the weak and the strong, so he would never become friendly with those he considers "weak".

However, by hanging out with Max who he formerly beat up, it goes to show that his perspective is changing. Perhaps his viewpoints haven't instantly changed, but he's seeing strength in those he considers weak, and he's able to properly start forming connections.

In the Mashle fanbook, in Carpaccio's relationship chart, it's pretty hard to translate but there is a specific note towards Finn that basically is him admitting to being impressed with Finn. Like yes Mash did beat him, but he acknowledges that it was Finn's victory as well. Even in the actual battle, his last thoughts regarding the situation were not of Mash, but of Finn and how Finn beat him.

SO WHAT IM TRYING TO SAY AFTER THIS WHOLE GODDAMN ESSAY IS THAT pacciofinn would not be toxic okay 🥺</33 Carpaccio has changed for the better and he actually views Finn positively !!! He did not come out of that fight as a static character, he's had growth !!

It is unfair to his character to say that he'd treat Finn badly or he'd continue to be an asshole even after everything because the thing is that Carpaccio has finally solved his biggest issue. He's finally able to understand people around him, and his research about pain only goes to show that he is interested in people around him now.

He is interested in knowing people and understanding pain in a way that does not mean hurting them and he just happens to be really emotionally constipated and awkward while he's at it </333 like really have u seen him. get a load of his guy

not a damn thought going through that brain of his does he look like he can express normal love and affection and care in a not weird and cryptic (affectionate) manner to u. the last time we saw him smiling it looked wrong on his face.

it looked so wrong that I swore the entire fandom collectively wiped it from their brains and forgot he knew how to smile hence they write him off as a cold asshole incapable of expressing joy as if he isnt like 16 years old and learning emotions for the first time in his life like a newborn deer but anyways whatever im not salty about that why would you think that

This was supposed to be a pacciofinn defense essay but I feel like 90% of the reason why ppl hate pacciofinn is because they don't get Carpaccio's character. Im so okay with ppl hating the ship but I get so petty when its because they mischaracterize Carpaccio like if you can admit that Carpaccio wouldn't mistreat Finn if they got into a relationship and still dislike the ship then okay youre good idc but to EVERYONE ELSE its on sight

Okok but besides from the character analysis, can we take a moment to think about how. Carpaccio's magic allows him to transfer his pain to others and his whole deal is that he can't feel pain and also he's like confident and the top of the grade or whatever.

And meanwhile Finn is unconfident and barely made the cutoff for Easton and his magic allows him to switch places of stuff he wants but MOST IMPORTANTLY his magic has the ability to heal !!!!! THEY R LIKE...FOILS.....YEAH...SO REAL

It also makes it more thematically better that they ended up going head to head and it was Finn(ft. Mash)'s victory like Finn is just living proof of everything Carpaccio doesn't believe in and now he's forced to believe in it.

I also think it's important to consider that Carpaccio acknowledges it to be Finn's win instead of thinking further abt Mash because here's the thing: Mash is the main character. He's magicless, yes, but he also possesses a large amount of power already.

He is, in all sense of the word, "strong". He doesn't let his status as someone without magic deter him from his goals (and that's what makes him so good but this is not a Mash appreciation essay so I'll have to leave that for next time but I love Mash)

Finn on the other hand, is what really embodies Carpaccio's perception of someone "weak". He's not particularly strong in magic, and he's also not physically strong either. He gets scared easily, and he's not so brash that he can confidently jump into battle like the rest of his friends. He needs help, he can't win on his own. But despite this, he had the courage to stand up to Carpaccio.

And by the end of the manga, Finn has acquired 2 lines. The person Carpaccio had considered "weak" went far beyond his expectations and now they have the same amount of lines. However, Carpaccio's respect for Finn did not begin after he acquired 2 lines, but before that when he still had only 1 line and that is so important to me

I don't know where I'm going with this um sorry but to conclude I think you guys should care abt pacciofinn they r so silly to me theyre just two little guys i want them put into a blender

#honestly don't take my essay too seriously i just wanted to yap #people are free to disagree or dislike the ship regardless (but i would appreciate it if you did not do that directly on my post)#feeling a little brave i will put this in the main tags #mashle #mashle magic and muscles #carpaccio luo yang #finn ames #feels like a crime to tag finn in here because this is mainly abt carpaccio but it is abt pacciofinn so

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