#if anyone else does I eat the ankles

[angelicgaming1007]

Okay the astarion lover in me wants to spare him But the astarion LOVER in me wants to flush him to bully him (Im sagittarius its my love language hush)

❎ or 🅾️

Redraw of this meme because I love it sm, sorry if it’s been done before 😭

[friedpaolo]

As silly as it may sound, do you have any headcanons for Mr.Chopped?

Mr. Chopped.. such a sweet little guy. <3

Synopsis: general headcanons for Mr. Chopped.

Mr. Chopped is a very clingy creature. In the scenario where you're his lover or someone that he feels comfortable around then prepare to have a serious arm workout because he becomes whiny and persistent about being carried around with you 24/7. He'll complain when you attempt sit him down. His lips curling into a unsatisfactory frown when he feels a hard surface or anything that isn't your arms or hands. "No! Pick up, pick up!" He'll demand, but not in the way where you feel threatened if you don't pick him up. But if you don't then just expect a very petulant response when you finally do pick him back up.

Mr. Chopped loves physical affection. Oh, he becomes the happiest little creature in the world when you show affection towards him. He eats it all up. Kisses, nuzzling. You gave him a bunny kiss once and he hasn't been the same since. Now whenever you see him, he looks at you so expectantly. He'll get especially jealous if he sees you do it to anyone else and will pout about it, claiming that he doesn't want you to pick him up but he's lying and you both know that. Then if you leave him, he accuses you of leaving him when you return. Like, my brother in christ make up your mind, it's the only part of your body that's connected to you!

Mr. Chopped who hates when you go without him or hasn't come to visit him in a while. By a while, the estimate is 2 hours at the most. He highly finds himself attracted to those that help him or aren't hostile towards him. So he undoubtedly begs Mr. Silvair to bring him to to you or find you. He feels a bit bad that it's a hassle for Mr. Silvair in the scenario where you're whereabouts are unknown. But he just really wants to see you and know that another monster hasn't swallowed you whole. "There!" He'll exclaim when he sees you in the distance. It happens so often that it reminds you of ordering food and meeting the delivery man on the porch. Although you're not upset, how can you be when Chopped is practically vibrating from the excitement of being your hands again.

Mr. Chopped loves having his hair styled. It becomes clear when he asks you to take him to see the hair dresser. He loves when you sit his head down on your lap and mess with his hair. Braid it into a single lose braid, comb it, put it in a little bun. The feeling of your fingers combing through his hair relaxes him a lot and he'll request it whenever he's feeling anxious or terrified. Like if another monster captures him and you manage to get him back, it soothes him. Doesn't let you dye his hair, he prefers to keep his orange locks but will ask you to cut it. "Cut!" He'll tell you, you barely even snip anything off before he declares. "Much better!" Like?? a lock of hair the size of a pencil shaving was cut and he claims he's feeling lighter.

Mr. Chopped who probably scares you whenever he uses his hand. Like, the way it would just appear out of nowhere. Sometimes by itself. He has no sense of "what if I scare them?" The mount of times you'd freaked out when you felt something take ahold of your ankle only to realize it's Chopped's way of saying that he wants you to come to him is actually terrific and you have to remind yourself that it's your companion's hand so you don't kick it away or crush it with your crowbar. When he realizes that he'd scared you, he feels very bad and does apologize for it. He doesn't stop, but that makes it more difficult to get your attention when he Mr. Silvair refuses to carry him to you.

11/18/2024 © Friedpaolo. please do not translate, modify or repost any of my work on any platform, or claim any of it as your own.

[sweetimpurity]

*ೃ༄ੈ✩ Day 2 woohoo! Miggy got me blushing in this one. enjoy my loves! cw: dirty talk wc: 1.6k. ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ- I might change the posting schedule so be on the lookout for that! But I’ll find the groove after the first few days! masterlist>>

“I knew that dress would be perfect on you…” Miguel says. Eyeing you across the table like he wants to eat you up right here and now. Clinks of silverware against porcelain and expensive glassware fill the restaurant, along with the soft hum of conversation, low warm chandeliers and candlelight. Date night as usual. This has become the new normal. This all started as a sort of transactional thing. You were his arm candy and he was your wallet. A big businessman CEO like him doesn’t have a ton of time to foster new deep relationships. But he’s made an effort to spend time with you. At least enough time to do you and deposit 10k in your bank account by the time you wake up. 

Truth is, he likes you a lot. More than he’s liked being around anyone else. It’s more than just sex and money but those do tend to be the most exciting parts of this relationship. And he’s a particular man. 

“I usually wouldn’t pick this color for myself but you have a good eye… I really love it, thank you.” You nod with a knowing smile, smoothing down the silky material over your lap. A dark sort of crimson maroon color. Very flattering. And he always loves you in red. “Hopefully you don’t bust the zipper open like last time…” 

You tease him, raising your brow his way and sipping your drink through the mini straw. He grins, loving that look in your eyes and remembering the most recent time he bought you a new dress and the state it was in after he was done with you. “Can you blame me? It was in the way…” He hums with a chuckle, making you laugh. Eyes meeting across the table. And you can feel the toe of his dress shoe press into your shin, rubbing down to the joint of your ankle. Breaking eye contact when it gets too flustering. 

“Are you wearing the other gift I bought you…?” He asks with that same annoying smirk on his face. Sipping his strong drink, the ice cube clinking around the glass. “...yesss…” You drawl softly, looking down at the table to avoid his eyes. A flush over your cheeks at the thought, and that his mind is already going there. “What color?” He asks. 

You look up. Cheeks beet red at his blunt question. The embarrassment rising in your chest and making your knees squeeze together under the table. “Uh… black…” You hum, looking down again. 

He loves this. The images searing into his mind of those panties he got you. In every color the store had. And you chose the black ones tonight. “You’re telling the truth?” He asks. His tone is soft and yet confronting, teasing. He wants to hear you say it. To watch you struggle to say the words. “Of course…” You whisper, looking up at him and wondering where his head is at now. 

“Prove it. Show me.” He says. Your eyes widening and heart beating. You’re in a high end five star restaurant and he wants what? “Show you? I can’t just lift my dress up…” You laugh nervously, looking around and feeling like everyone knows. That embarrassment sitting deep in your chest and making you flushed. Knowing your black panties must be sticky by now. 

“No, don't expose yourself in this restaurant full of people, baby…” He scoffs. Brow furrowing at your words and giving you a look as if that should have been obvious. The embarrassment persists. Of course that’s not what he meant. But what does he mean? “Take them off and show them to me. Then I’ll believe you…” He says. Your eyes blow wide again. 

The waiter comes over to refill your waters. Asking how the food is and exchanging simple pleasantries with Miguel. Miguel, who’s acting like everything is normal and nothing’s going on. Glancing around and wondering if anyone overheard the conversation. If they know you’re wet from hearing him talk to you like that. 

“Thank you…” Miguel smiles charmingly as the waiter walks again. Putting his focus back on you after. An expectant look on his face. “Well?” 

“Don’t look at me.” You whisper, willing to do what he asks but his gaze feels like a bright spotlight. “No, I’m gonna look at you. Are you gonna do it or do you need some help?” He asks, reaching his hand under the table and grazing your knee with his fingers. Making you jump. Definitely not. That’s too much in a place like this. 

“No no no I… I’ll do it.” You sigh. Looking down and mentally scolding yourself for loving this. The way your pussy is beating for him right now. 

He leans back in his seat with a satisfied smile. Subtly glancing around to make sure no one’s looking. No one needs to be involved in their little game. His eyes focus back on you, watching your arms working under the table cloth. 

It’s long enough that the table cloth covers your lap and along with the fabric napkin, it’s almost like nothing’s happening at all. But your fingers hook into the edges of your black lacy panties and pull them down. Quickly lifting your hips to be able to pull them down your thighs. Cheeks flushed red and heart beating wildly. Beyond embarrassed but hot and bothered at the same time. The feelings are one in the same. 

He leans forward now, happy with the progress you’ve made and that look on your face. Watching you lean forward to pull the panties down your legs and past your heels. All the way off. 

Taking a second to situate yourself and look around to make sure no one noticed, the lacy panties are balled up in your hand. It feels like evidence. Like something you’d get in trouble for. And the fact that he’s just watching you do all this makes you even hotter for him. 

“Here take them…” You whisper, reaching under the table with the clump of lace to give to him. But he extends his hand above the table. Brow raised in expectation and a smile on his lips. “I’ll take them up here…” 

He’s having too much fun with this. Watching your cheeks flush again and again and eyes widen. It’s adorable and hot at the same time that you’re such a little bunny, getting off on this. The waiter walks by again and you flinch, keeping your hands under the table. Waiting for the perfect moment. Fearing you’ll get caught and the embarrassment will be too much to bear. His big hand, his heavy silver watch, that stupid smirk. Such an asshole. 

“Here here take them-” You jump, shoving them into his hand with both hands as if to keep them concealed. He lets out a small whistle between his teeth. To your horror, letting the clump of lace unravel over the table for a moment. “Miguel!” You gasp, looking around and feeling your heart race. 

“Damn, I can’t believe you just did that…” He laughs, grabbing the panties in his hand and looking around too to make sure no one saw. His words ringing in your ears. “You told me to do it!” You whine, pouting at him. 

He laughs again. Looking down at the pretty panties as he admires them on his lap. Before clumping them up and putting them in his pocket. “And you’re a very good girl, baby…” 

“Oh my god…” You groan, covering your face with your hands. It’s like he’s doing everything he can to make you horny and humiliated at the same time. But you can hear him giggling across the table. “I’ll take the check whenever you get a chance…” You hear him say to the waiter. Peering through your fingers and ultimately pulling your hands away from your face. Cheeks hot and red. 

“I think my girl needs some special attention tonight…” He says softly but loud enough that the waiter who’s walking away could probably overhear. But if he did hear, he didn’t make it obvious. “Miguel O’hara.” You sigh and scold, pursing your lips together in a thin line and clenching your hands into fists on the table. 

“Oh come on…” He hums. Big hands crossing the table to grab yours and hold them. 

“I’m gonna fuck you so good tonight baby… just the way you like.” He whispers. Holding onto your hands so you couldn't possibly pull them away. And you’re just shocked. “Miguel stop…” You sigh, utterly embarrassed and flustered, his hands pulling yours gently closer to him. 

“... fill you up pretty girl… just like always right? You want that?” He taunts, tilting his head and bringing your hands up to his lips, pressing them to your knuckles. You swallow dryly and nod silently. 

“Say it. Say you want it.” He hums. 

You nod again, eyes glued to the juncture of his lips on your skin. 

“Words, baby… say the words. Say you want me to fuck you and fill you up.” 

He’s just being mean now. But it’s working. Damn him, it’s working so well.  “I… want…” He watches with a brow raised and a growing smirk on his lips. 

“I want… you to fuck me and fill me up…” You barely whisper. Positively dripping for him, slick between your thighs squeezing together under the table. “Please...” He corrects you. He wants to hear it. 

“Miguel… I want you to fuck me and fill me up…please” You say in finality. An ache in your thighs that’s impossible to ignore. Needing him more than ever. More than anything. 

“Since you asked so nicely, of course, whatever you want, baby.” He whispers, a dark glint in his eyes. Satisfied and happy watching you squirm. “Let's get out of here…” He tosses a wad of cash on the table. More than enough to cover the bill that’s taking too long to come out. He can’t fuck you fast enough. 

Tag list: @slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist please comment on my masterlist post or I might not see it! thank you!

[jinkiezzsstuff]

Hello!!!

Can I put in a writing request??

Because I love your writing!!! 🥹

Can you do (either human alastor.. or demon alastor i love both but human alastor has a chokehold on me haha) but his partner is plus size and they are very self conscious about it

Can be smut if you like (I'm waaaay okay with that)

omg yessss i’m gonna do human alastor because he does need some attention <3 also felt this personallyyyy so i did it sooo fast 🙈 ima chunky gorl myself and with summer approaching things always get tough. i lot of what i wrote here is my own personal experience and shit so i don’t want anyone to think this is something they should feel or notice or be ashamed of! Just so you know!

warnings: SMUT 18+, gender neutral but use of clit, feral alastor, Human!alastor, kinda ooc in the way he is ravenous for reader sexually, reader doesn’t know he’s a murderer, self loathing, self hate, body worship maybe, biting breifly, alastor kinda rich or whatever for the time, insecure reader, plus size reader, body part like stomach thighs highlighted, crying, husband alastor, comfort from Al. swearing, lmk if there’s anything else! NOT PROOFREAD YALL

also i wanted to use junoisded ‘s work (on IG) but i don’t think they like things reposted unless asked and i am way to shy but go check them out their human alastor is mouthhhhh watering gawd

Closing the door behind you, you sat your bag on the table a sullen look on your face. It was particularly difficult week for you, it was getting warmer in New Orleans and when it got warm what was really meant was hot humid gross. It almost felt embarrassing at times to leave the house, the clothes companies made weren’t anything like what other people wore they were hideous, and you sweat, and just felt kind of self conscious.

Especially with Alastor. His popularity grew expeditiously over the last couple of years, with people now being able to recognize his voice all around. His popularity was a gift and a curse, a gift because you didn’t have to work through the stock market issues whereas many people your age did, and a curse because more women and men alike wanted him.

You weren’t jealous because Alastor made it pretty clear he only had eyes for you, however you couldn’t stop the comparison, you usually felt decent about yourself and your looks and Alastor made you more assured in your beliefs. But as more people would recognize him, and he’d give them that charming smile, and they’d flirt, you’d get a little jealous and insecure.

You walked into yours and Alastors shared bedroom, slipping off your shoes and looking into the mirror. You wanted to buy some nice clothing for an event you and Alastor were attending within the week, it was very hush puppy as it served contraband, however you couldn’t find anything at the market, and the tailors would be just too much to ask of Alastor.

Your lip quivered not with sadness but frustration, you just wanted to be at the same level as everybody else, without the issues, and being constantly told how to eat or use your body or dress yourself. Sitting on the bed your thighs spread out around you, stomach resting atop. Tears kept flowing pitifully as you took a moment to wrap your head around your spiraling thoughts. Taking a deep breath you wrapped your arms around your back, begining to take off the clothes that stuck to your sweaty body.

‘Loose leisure clothes.’ You chanted as you shook your trousers to your ankles and opened the drawers to your dresser. You remembered as you caught sight of one of Alastors red suit jackets, a gentleman who had commented that Alastor was far too small to lend his jacket to you on a cold night, which make you feel so bad about yourself. Slamming the drawer closed you cradled your head, this wasn’t fair, you would be ten times better with yourself if people weren’t so casually cruel.

You were okay, you were loved, but it seemed in other aspects of life people had to assure you weren’t due to how you looked. “My dear, what’re you doing all dressed down like this?” Alastors voice rang out joyfully. With a jump and a squeak your arms go to cover your body, however Alastor had already turned his back for you. “I’m so sorry sweetheart! I should’ve knocked!” Even though Alastor was being respectful, a nagging voice in the back of your head told you it was because he couldn’t stand the sight of you.

“Uhm, well you can look actually…” You muttered voice just above a whisper as you rubbed your arm. Alastors hands were on his hips, elbows pointed out head facing down, then he perked up head looking behind him. Smile present on his face his eyes shamelessly drank you up. “I couldn’t find any clothes,” You mutter your throat closing as the tears returned with the thoughts of before.

Alastors body finally turned his smile falling as he watched your from recoil away from his gaze. Stepping into the room his dress shoes clinked against the wooden floor as he approached you his arms outstretched to you. Immediately you fell into his embrace holding back the urge to cry, you wanted to be as strong as he was; smiling through no matter.

However when his hand began rubbing your back, soft words of worry falling from his lips, you lost it. Burying your face into his shoulder you cried, muttering your insecurities into him as he cradled you. “And Alastor they must think i’m a joke, you’re so small compared to me.” You cried out, pulling back to look into his chocolate eyes. Quickly he pulled a handkerchief from his vest pocket, his smile now a frown as he watched tears roll down your cheeks.

“My my, that’s the best part doudou. I love having flesh to bite, grip, squeeze,” Alastor grinned speaking through his closed teeth as he gripped your waist pulling your hips to his and you looked down hiding your face at his ridiculous nickname for you. “I feel proud to be able to feed you, my mother would be proud too, she’d absolutely love you. Worry not my dearest doe, i will have anything tailored to your need, and any crude bastard to comment on you I will hand slaughter the night of thee event, just to send a little message.” Alastor puffed his chest into you, his voice strangely dark and possessive, his eyes gleaming with pride as he kneaded your flesh beneath his fingers.

You never thought about it like that Alastor being able to properly provide for you, no; that was the fun of Alastor though he always knew how to twist things into something better than. Not to mention the idea of him being willing to commit a crime for you in the midst of a serial killer going around, that was something very special to you, strangely enough.

“Alastor you’re insane sometimes, but i love you.” You grinned finally, in turn making Alastors smile return larger then ever. Hands crawling up his chest and neck, you pulled him close and into a kiss. Your immediately Alastor gave into your tug, crashing his lips quickly onto your own roughly, his body grinding into your own as he did so, impatient to show you how much you mean to him though his psychical affections.

His hands gripped every little bit of flesh they passed, trailing up and down your body rolls and all, indulging his desire for you. You moaned lightly into his mouth when you felt the hard pressure of him pressed against your thigh. Alastor pulled away biting your lip as he did so, dragging it out. His eyes were lidded and one of his perfectly gelled curls fell forward and down touching the brim of his eyeglasses. “See how quickly you make me indecent my dear? Oh sweet doe, you make me so disgusting.” Alastor whined in a way, which you’d never heard, and stuffed his head into your neck, kissing, biting and sucking at your warm neck

“Alastor i’m sweaty!” You squeal as he dragged his tongue up your neck, biting at the flesh under you chin. “I know,” He mumbled quickly barely breaking away from decorating your neck. “So stop!” You huffed noncommittally as your hands came down to rest on his shoulders, lightly pushing him. “Why my little doe, you taste better this way.”

Alastor pulled back his coy smile on display as he did so, there was something so disbelieved and feral about how he looked despite not being unkept in the slightest. You felt slightly embarrassed by him admitting he liked you sweaty, but it was also comforting knowing that things you thought made you repulsive, actually attracted him.

“Come to bed with me, chérie?” Alastor hummed slyly, pulling your wrists gently toward the direction of the bed, where he was walking. “To sleep?” You asked flatly eyebrow raised, this caused a genuine laugh to bubble out of Alastors chest his head shaking just a bit. “No, and i think you knew that.” He whispered as he tugged you into him and then down onto the bed. You tensed as he did so, sitting up on your elbows you look at him and scold him.

You paused as Alastors gaze beat down on you hotly, it was sinful how he was looking at you with that cheshire grin on his face. He pulled off his glove with his teeth and used his degloved hand to remove the other one before he undid his vest, chucking it aside carelessly. You took a deep breath your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you watched him closely.

Yes you’ve had sex with Alastor before, although neither of you had a high libido so it wasn’t often, and when it was it wasn’t needy like now, no, it was loving, passionate. Alastor tossed his shirt aside crawling ontop of you right after, groaning as he pressed his bulged into the warmth of your thighs. Whimpering you covered your eyes unable to face the lustful look he was giving you.

His warm flesh melted into yours as he lowered himself ontop of you, his skin hot and sticky from being out in the louisiana heat, his breath tickled your skin as his lips dragged around your neck teasingly. “Gosh Al, I - you’re making me feel so- please.” You moaned quietly unable to place the feeling coursing through you. A mixture of wanting to beg him to devour you and wanting to hide yourself away from his heated gestures.

“What is is it you need, my dear?” His voice was sweet like honey as he breathed his sin into your ear, hand coming up under the leg hole of your undergarments, inching closer to your core. You breath was quievered as your hands found there way to his slightly musicled biceps, sinking your nails into them. Finally he backed up on his knees, and yanked down your undergarments, making you gasp.

Your husband has never been this, it made you dizzy and confused, why has he been hiding such ravenousness from you? Alastor looked down at you with pity, your legs reflexively closed before he could get a glimpse of your pretty. “Please darling don’t be modest, I need you more then ever now. I’m a starved man don’t you know? I need your quench.” You watched him as he spoke, his eyebrows knitted his face soft as he mockingly pleaded with you while he undid the button in his slacks and soon pulled down the zipper.

With jagged breaths you watched him disrobe, pulling his cock from his boxers and stroking it for you to see. Precum dripped from the tip and down his shaft, mixing into the dark coiled public hair at the base. “Oh fuck Alastor,” You whined looking away, you heard him chuckle at an octave you’ve never heard before. “What’s wrong darling? Can’t stand to see how perverse you make me? How cruel, honestly.” He huffed before his warm hands came to grip on your knees, yanking them apart. “My dear, you’re absolutely devine, you have no idea. It’s sickeningly cruel on my part, but I can’t help but be greedy about the way I only get to have you. In a world of commons, i get the rare.” Alastors hips slotted in between your thighs like many times before but this time you were so soaked you needed no foreplay. The head of his shaft prodded at your entrance, making your hips tilt forward attempting to gain friction and contact.

“Please Al, don’t make me beg you.” You moaned quietly, ashamed of how quickly you bent to his will. Alastor grinned down at you, admiring your body relaxed and needy beneath him. There wasn’t a soul he’d replace you for, you were everything and more. He could come clean about his murders and you’d kiss his cheek and serve him some whisky for his stress, because you were family, you were his.

Alastor slid into you slowly, feeling every inch of you against him, his thighs pressed against your own, he loved the feeling of you consuming him all at once. The way your body embraced his own was heaven on earth, you were his comfort that he didn’t deserved. As he watched you beneath him gasp, shake and moan as he sunk into slowly, harshly and repeatedly, he whispered sweet nothings to you. He let out a condescending chuckle while calling you a good pet, told you your body was his to love too and for shame for berating it.

You saw stars and he would slowly pull out and slam back in, believing that was the extent of this session. However, Alastor pressed his hips fully up against your own, kneading the softness of your belly as he stilled. Leaning down he captured you in a kiss, catching you off guard. You reciprocated fisting his curly hair and pulling him closer, which in response made him growl and grunt into you. He felt you clench around him at the sound, and in the moment decided he’d show you how good you make him feel, how much he loves you.

Suddenly Alastor pulled his hips back, and grinded back down into you, his public hair tickling your swollen clit, juices from your arousal squelching as he did so. This time he wasn’t slow, his pace was even and moderate, fucking you into the mattress so hard, the springs snapped, the wood creaked and you swore the bed frame was moving. Alastor pulled away from your swollen lips burying his face in your neck, he moaned for you.

You rolled your eyes back at the sounds he made, ahs, uhs and groans that were only for you. “Oh fuck Alastor i’m gonna cum,” You squeaked clenching your toes tightly as he jackhammered into you, breathing and gasping into your ear as he felt you grip him. Alastor wasn’t proud to admit it but he was too weak to respond, instead he bit down, sucking and groaning into your skin. His pace got clumsy as you cried out in ecstasy, coiling your body around him as you came harshly.

Your arm around his back, one arm around his neck and gripping his hair, and your legs tightly locked around your hips, yeah Alastor couldn’t resist himself from shooting strings into you. Your body jolted as he came shaking your while body, his grunts and whines making your sensitive hole clench him nearer. Without a warning his body collapsed ontop of yours, a deep breath escaping him as he finally relaxed. “I’ve never felt that before dear,” Alastor admitted after a moment of silence. “Me neither, made me forget about everything.” You say hazily, your voice lifted and raw from the noises you let out.

Alastor chucked his fogged glasses to the side, pulling himself out with a huff. Smiling sweetly you watched him gently place a kiss on your stomach and walk off. Sitting up you nearly went to call after him, before his naked body came waltzing back with a rag. “Wanna have a lazy evening in chérie?” You hummed approvingly, and attempted to take the rag, he scoffed at you and lightly pushed your hand away. Softly and embarrassingly so, he cleaned you from himself, enjoying the sight while he was at it.

Once finished Alastor returned the rag as you readied the bed, wanting to cuddle with him. Coming back in Alastor went to grab you both clothes before you called to him. “Can, well- i want to feel you still?” You questioned more than said. Shutting the drawer with a slam he grinned like the little cheshire he was and crawled into bed with you. You pulled him in and he you, nuzzling yourself into his chest you whimpered at the contact, feeling various emotions run through you.

“I chose you my dear, for many reasons not only your looks, your love, your passion but your body too, I love all parts of you, and I know how thoughtless people can be, I will protect you from those comments in the future.” Alastor whispers into your head kissing the top of it right after. You caressed his chest with your nails, throwing your leg over his torso. “Thank you Alastor. I love you too, hell there’s nothing that would make me not love you.” Alastor scoffed his grin returning. “Even murder?” He questioned angling his neck to the side to meet your eyes. Smiling up at him you gave a point nod. “Even murder.”

[nxtaliaistyping]

scarecrow escaping from Arkham to go to his partner's house and show her how much he missed her (I leave you that idea)

Scarecrow coming back to his girlfriend’s place <3

Author’s note: love love love this request, doctor crane my beloved <3

18+ nsfw, fem reader, fear play mentions, creampie

As Jonathan heaves his way through the typical rain that covered Gotham city at this time of year, he realises he’s still smiling.

Gassing the imbeciles that make up the security team at Arkham asylum had been a gleeful experiment. He’d watched with the familiar glint in his eye how they’d grabbed at their own throats in terror, writhing on the floor as the horror filled their senses.

But he had to tear himself away, knowing this was his chance at escaping. So he’d slipped away from the asylum, keeping to the shadows so no eagle eyed night walker would notice the garish orange of the Arkham prisoner jumpsuits.

His first instinct was to go to a safehouse, get to work right away at enacting his revenge on the city for incarcerating him. But his feet seem to have a mind of their own, and as much as he hates to admit it, his heart does too. So he finds himself knocking harshly on your apartment front door.

On the other side, you're a startled wreck. It's 1am for gods sake, and someone is banging on your door. With a shaky voice you ask who it is, your breath catching as you do.

"...it's me..."

You'd recognize that voice anywhere, and with a furious conviction, you open the door and see your lover standing there. He stumbles in, running a hand through his slightly greasy hair before slamming the door behind him. His hands are on you immediately, pushing you against the wall as he breaths raspily.

"Missed you sweetheart...like you wouldn't believe."

His tone has your skin tingling with excitement as you reach out and gently touch his jawline, as if you confirm he's actually here. "How did you..."

"I'll tell you later." he remarks gruffly, before his lips attach to your neck and gently suck, like his first instinct was to remark you as his own. "Just missed you."

Before it can strike you just how vulnerable he's being, he captures your mouth in a searing kiss that effectively kills off any lingering thoughts you had. It's clumsy and messy, his need winning out over technique as his tongue traces your own.

He moves to place sloppy kisses down your neck, tugging the straps of your nightgown to access more skin. He grins as he feels the material in his fingers; he'd always told you how much he loved that nightgown on you, said it reminded him of a slasher victim in a bad horror film, one who'd provocatively search the house before being killed in a gruesome way.

The white lace makes you look so...vulnerable in his eyes, like a lost lamb willingly baring her neck to the wolf who wants to eat her. So he keeps tugging, until your breasts spill out over the fabric. He attaches his lips to them, sucking softly as you gasp and run fingers through his hair.

"Jonathan...bedroom." you say, knowing that in his state, he'd most likely end up fucking you right there in the hallway. He reluctantly detaches himself from your tit, tugging you hastily to your bedroom and pushing you down onto the mattress.

"You don't know what it was like in that damn place." he remarks, finally getting sick of your nightdress all together and roughly tugging until it hangs loosely around your ankles. "How infuriating it was. I had Nygma in the cell next to me ranting that nobody was matching wits with him, and Tetch in the other going on about wonderland or whatever bullshit."

He moves to your wet pussy, hole twitching slightly as he runs his long digits through your folds. Catching the wetness, he circles your clit in precise circles as he continues. "Couldn't even relieve myself without someone ruining the fantasy."

"What were you thinking about?" you ask, and the grin he gives you should frighten you...if you were anyone else.

"Oh dear...I was thinking of you dripping over my lap, high on my fear toxin as i delivered spank after spank over that pretty ass of yours."

You whimper at his words, just as he sinks two fingers inside your cunt. He crooks them, feeling your g spot and sighing at the familiar texture. "And about how delicious you'd look as I fucked you, so scared and brainless, clinging onto me for dear life."

He fingers you quickly, eager to prep you so he can be inside of you once again. He never used to be like this, so desperate for wanton physical contact. But you've changed him, wormed your way into his life and heart until he craves you, craves the reactions and noises you give him as you lie helplessly beneath him.

"A pity I used up all my toxin on the guards." he lies, in truth he has some left over in his overall pocket, but he keeps up the charade. "Oh what a lovely victim you always make."

He pulls his fingers out roughly, giving your swollen clit a nice spank for good measure before hastily stripping. You sit up to watch him, missing him just as much as he'd missed you. The dangerous man before you had been the subject of all of your salacious and desperate fantasies as you'd touched yourself the whole time he was in Arkham. Nobody was like him, nobody could give you the thrill that Jonathan could. And as he rubs his swollen cock along your folds, feeling the way you write, you know that you don't want anyone else.

He enters you, giving you the courtesy of going slowly as he deduces it'll have been a while since you've had something substantial filling you up like this. As he bottoms out with a guttural groan, your fingernails dig in to his shoulders, the pain delicious to Jonathan as he bucks his hips, driving his cock impossibly deep.

"Fuck...you minx." he mutters, starting to fuck you. Each thrust he ensures that he's reaching as far in as he can, wanting to feel every bit of you.

You moan softly with each thrust, telling him how much you missed him too, how lonely it's been without him. And each sentence has his heart-rate spiking in a way that feels dangerous. He never meant to form attachments, thinking it as weak, or a distraction from his work. But it's clear now more than ever that he can't let you go.

So he drives into you faster, burying his face in your neck and biting, leaving harsh hickeys all over your throat. "Mine...mine."

"All yours Jonathan."

He groans again at your words, feeling his dick throb with desire. He knows he won't last long, being apart from you for so long (and his age) meaning his stamina has taken a direct hit. But he savors the moment regardless, feeling you on your back beneath him, like you were meant to be.

"Not gonna last..." he warns, and you nod in understanding, locking your legs around him to ensure he cums inside.

With a couple more thrusts, he empties himself inside your cunt as it milks him for all he has. His moan is broken and desperate, but the relief is palpable in his tone as he relaxes. The tension in his shoulders seems to lift, as his breath heaves.

"I...really did miss you." he reiterates, somewhat annoyed at himself for feeling the need to tell you once again, but the soft look on your face makes it worth it...at least a little.

[jellalism]

Kinktober 2024, Day 12: Consequence (Erotica)

You were caught by Noel, and now you have to suffer the consequences of your escape attempt. Sequel to Day 5: Sneak.

Word count: 2441 words

Genre: Erotica, horror

Reader’s gender and sex: gender neutral, but “boy/girl” used. Reader does not wear a bra.

Content warnings: Yandere and all that that entails, including sadism/torture, rape/dubcon, manipulation. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

Notes: Noel is an OC of @devotion-disorder. The art in the banner is also by them!

Read below or on AO3.

“Go on. Walk. You know the way to the punishment room.” Noel gives you a push in the back, making you stumble forward, forcing you further up the stairs. “The more you dawdle, the worse it will be. Time’s ticking, honey.” The way he uses that term is nowhere near cute. It is possessive. He uses it specifically to remind you to who you belong. Anyone else who’d call you ‘honey’ would soon eat their words… or become unable to speak any word at all.

You obediently make your way upstairs. Your body already hurts. The blood drips from your nose into your mouth and down your chin. The way he has kicked you in the back and slammed his body into yours once you were on the ground makes you feel sore all over. But you know it’s going to get worse. I’d better obey him, you think. There’s no way out.

“See? You can obey me. If only you had done that earlier, we would not be in this sticky situation. But noooo, you just had to try to break out.” He smacks your ass hard, but your trousers take some of the impact. For now. “Now I have to punish you.”

You reach the top of the stairs and go right without a word. To the punishment room, right next to the bedroom. The activities done in one room may easily lead to the adjoining one.

“Stand there.” He points some distance away from the door. He fishes a key out of his pocket and opens the door. “After you.” He holds the door open for you. For just a second, you hesitate, but you know you have no choice. Any survival instincts kicking in must be repressed. You have to embrace the pain to survive, counter-intuitive though it is.

The room is filled with all kinds of devices to inflict pain. There’s different whips, pads, cuffs, and things you don’t even know the use of. ‘Punishment room’ is a euphemism; ‘torture chamber’ is more apt. In the middle, a wooden table stands.

“On it. On your back. I want to see your face.”

You do as he says. Noel roughly grabs your wrists and clicks them into the cuffs attached to the table. They’re above shoulder height, so they don’t twist your arms too badly. But that’s not the point of the cuffs, anyway. The point is not even to stop you from escaping—Noel is strong and fast enough to do that with his body. The point is simply to make you feel helpless. To be unable to reflexively lift your arms in self-defense, to be unable to have that basic biological function do its work, adds to the utter despair that he can arouse in you. That he will arouse in you.

He takes your ankles and cuffs them to the table, as well. Your legs are a little ways apart.

“Oh, it seems like you still have your clothes on. Totally forgot about that!” Noel says, clearly acting. You can’t see him from your position. “Guess we’ll have to rid you of them unconventionally.” And suddenly, he hangs over you, showing you a knife. It looks sharp as hell. Your breathing grows shallow. You hope he isn’t going to do what you think he will.

He moves to the side of the table and positions the knife at the neck of your shirt. Then he presses down. You feel it pressing into your skin. He takes your shirt and starts cutting. He doesn’t press the knife into your body every time. But every once in a while, you feel the sharp blade moving over your torso, opening it up, no doubt making you bleed.

“Noel, I’m afraid,” you mutter. You didn’t even think about the words; they just came out automatically. Strangely, sometimes you find that you want him to comfort you. He’s always there for you, after all. The only one who’s there. And sometimes, in your despair, you cry out for him.

“You’re afraid? As you should be.” He finishes cutting and tears the remainders of your shirt from your body. You feel the cloth covering your back slide out from under you. Your entire torso is now displayed to him. “Bad [boy/girl]s won’t get any comfort from me. You fucked around. Now it’s time to find out.”

He clenches his fist and smashes it into your stomach. Pain sears through you. You feel the bile rising in your throat, but swallow it down. Then you sputter and cough, and scream.

“See? No pity from me. It’s all your fault, you know? I can be nice. You know I can be nice. I love you, and I want nothing but the best for you. You know this.” He caresses your face with the knife, leaving a shallow cut on your left cheek. “That’s why I’m hurting you. It would be terrible for you and me both if you were to continue misbehaving. So I need to beat it out of you.”

“P-please,” you stammer in fear. You know it won’t do anything, but the words just spill from your mouth.

Noel ignores you. He moves to the back of the table, outside of your field of vision. “Time to get started on your trousers.” He sets the knife at the bottom, making a cut in the cloth near your right ankle. “Fuck it, I don’t have time for this.” You hear the sound of tearing cloth and feel cold air running up all over your leg. He does the same for your left leg: a small cut at the bottom, and rest is just one big tear. For the last part, near your waist, he takes out his knife again. He doesn’t hold back this time. He sets the knife in the cloth forcefully and cuts the last bit of cloth efficiently, without regard for your skin. You whimper and cry as the knife leaves a deep cut. You hear Noel chuckle.

He quickly removes the tatters of your trousers from your body. You’re only wearing your underwear now, though there’s not much left of it. But there’s still enough to conceal your most private parts.

“I’ll leave that on for now.”

You sigh in relief. A last shred of dignity can be retained. It is a tiny shred, but you have to take what you can get.

“Just kidding!” And he tears your underwear apart, exposing your genital area.

“Noel!” you cry out.

“What is it, baby?” He sounds cruel.

“Noel… please… I’m s-sorry. I’m so so sorry. I won’t do it again, I swear!” You’ve completely lost control of your mouth, rattling off apologies without even thinking about it.

He moves so that you can see him again. “No can do. I told you: if you are naughty, you will be punished. It’s not like I want to hurt you, but it’s necessary. You should never ever forget what happens when you break the rules. The consequences of that should be as dependable as gravity.” He says that, but you know better. He fucking loves to hurt you. Part of him is happy you broke the rules, so that he has a good excuse for fucking demolishing you. Knowing that only intensifies the fear.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, but to no avail.

Meanwhile, Noel moves back and rummages around. “Ah, got it!” He steps towards you to show you his find. A whip. But not just any whip: this one has spiky studs. “This will be a night to remember, y/n.”

“Please, for the love of God, Noel, stop!” Tears are streaming down your face; the terror he inspires in you is out of this world. “I beg of you!”

“Hmmm… should I stop?”

“Please, Noel! I’ll do anything for you! Please, just… don’t hurt me.” Something inside of you breaks, and you start sobbing even louder, making you unable to speak another word.

Noel just laughs. Suddenly, you feel a searing pain on your thighs, and you scream at the top of your lungs. As soon as you finish the scream, you gulp for air, but then the whip strikes again. Another scream escapes you; your entire world is pain. Somewhere in the back of your consciousness, you hear Noel complain giddily about how you make too much noise, but it doesn’t register. All you can do is sob and scream.

More lashings follow—you don’t even know how many, nor how long it lasts. Just that, at some point, the burning pain stops renewing itself. Suddenly, Noel’s face is right above yours; too close. “Now that’s what I like to see. You’ve learned your lesson now, right?”

You nod shakily, unable to do anything else. He could be asking you to sell your soul and you’d still nod; all you want is for the pain to end.

“Good, good.” He undoes the cuffs around your wrists and ankles. You feel his arms slide under you and, with a grunt, he lifts you up and walks out of the room. You both know you wouldn’t be able to walk by yourself. Still sobbing, you snuggle against him. God, how you missed him. This softer Noel. The one that would hold you in his arms.

He chuckles. “You’re such a good [boy/girl] now.”

A few moments later, he throws you on the bed. It doesn’t come as a surprise that he carried you to the bedroom. Noel is undressing hurriedly, unable to wait another moment.

“On your stomach. And place a pillow under yourself, so that your ass sticks out.”

You’re not sure if this is part of the punishment, or just ‘business as usual’. Things blend into each other. But at least, when he fucks you, he’s not as cruel as he is in that other room. So, for all intents and purposes, this is not punishment; this is a treat. Even though he’ll fuck on his own terms, as hard as he wants.

You obey him and, within seconds, you feel him take his place behind you. Two lubed up fingers massage the rim of your asshole. “You always make me so horny, you know? I love to see you happy, but God, your crying face just makes me want to fuck you so hard.” He slips in a finger and thrusts it in and out at a high pace. “I just can’t wait to fuck all those sweet moans out of you. It was so hard for me too, you know? To not thrust my cock inside you then and there.” Already, he adds a second finger. “You’re still tight, but I’ve waited so long, I can’t just…” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

You want to speak, but you’re still unable to, your body completely broken and shaking all over. Noel continues his preparation of your ass. After a little more than a minute, he thinks he has prepared you enough. You’re not quite so sure, but you don’t struggle. If he thinks it’s enough, it must be enough. What Noel says goes.

“Ready for my cock, love?” He is holding your waist as you feel the head of his penis stimulating the rim of your anus. He presses inside; his impatience in the preparation makes it a little tight still, but he enters. There’s pain, but compared to the pain elsewhere in your body, it’s negligible. He sighs deeply, contentedly. “So damn good.”

He changes his position to lay on top of you, covering your body with his. With one hand, he pins your right hand to the mattress; the other wraps under your left armpit and grabs you at the throat roughly. Your breathing becomes more labored as he constricts the air flow.

“You like that, huh? Being all mine. You don’t get to breathe unless I allow it, got that?” He starts moving his cock, thrusting in and out slowly. His member is rather thick, and it always takes a while for your hole to get used to it.

When you don’t reply, he shortly squeezes your throat hard before loosening his grip, leaving you gasping for air. “I said, did you get that?”

“Y-y-yes, Noel.” Your voice comes out as a wheeze.

“Good,” he coos. “That’s how I know my sweetheart.” He lets go of your throat and pins your other hand to the mattress, too. “I think you’re loosened up enough by now.”

It’s true; his cock is going in and out more easily than it was before.

“Let me paint your insides white.” With those words, he starts fucking you in earnest. Hard and deep; with each thrust you scream it out. “That’s it, y/n!” he moans in your ear. “Let it out. Let me hear how good you feel.”

And, despite everything, he was right: you did feel good. He had abused you, even tortured you. But that was the punishment, which was over now. So, surely, now you could enjoy yourself… right? It was hard to think straight around him. He didn’t allow you the space in your mind.

“How does it feel, baby?” Not having gotten his answer in words, his tone became more demanding. He accompanied it with a particularly hard thrust. The pain surged through you, but there was pleasure, too.

“Feels so good!” you mewled. “Noel… Noel…” You moan his name over and over, and he, with his mouth so close to your ear, whispers yours. You can feel his breath and hear every tiny sound he makes.

“See? If you behave, I’ll fuck you nicely. Isn’t it pleasant like this?”

“Yes, Noel.” You’re not even sure anymore if you mean what you say, or what the causal chain of events is. Did you agree with him because it is pleasant, or is it pleasant because you agreed with him?

“That’s a good [boy/girl].” His breathing grows more labored as he keeps penetrating you deeply. “I’m going to cum soon,” he whispers in your ear. “I’m gonna cum inside, and fill you up really good. You did so good bearing the punishment. You deserve it, you deserve my thick cock shooting it all inside you.” His voice grows more frenetic as he gets closer to ejaculation. He moans and groans and you feel his cock throbbing inside of you. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Fuuuuck.” With a final thrust, he shoots his load inside of you. He can’t help but twitch inside of you as he ejaculates. “God damn, you feel so good.”

You feel a warm feeling welling up inside you. It’s happiness. You feel happy you can please him.

You’ve truly become his bitch.

[cevansbrat0007]

Sweet Tooth

Summary: Ari gets inventive when he finds himself in the doghouse with you. Be sure to check out the follow-up drabble, Sweet Tooth Deluxe!

Warnings: Smut, Mature Themes, Ari Being A Menace, Arch Nemesis', Dominant Ari, Aprons, Arguments, Oral Sex (fem rec mentioned), Spanking (mentioned), Pussy spanking (mentioned), Pet Names, Cursing, Violent Thoughts, Minors DNI

A/N: Written for @honeygngergemini. Part of my Sweet Renegades Series. Semi-proofread, not beta'd. All mistakes are my own. Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated. Thanks for reading!

Ari leans back in his chair, one long leg coming to rest atop his knee as he levels a hard look at Officer Milton Foster. He scrubs a tired hand over his face, his mind working overtime to process what the young man had just said.

“But that makes zero fucking sense.” He grumbles, groaning when he sees Milton just shake his head.

“Aye, man.” The dark-haired deputy  throws up his hands. “You asked me where I thought you went wrong and I told you.” He turns in his office chair to spare a quick glance at his computer. “Do not shoot the messenger.”

“No one’s being shot, alright? I just don’t get the logic behind any of the shit you just said.”

Couple that with the fact that you’d been icing him out for the past several days for reasons unbeknownst to him – which had left him in a god awful mood. He missed you. Your laugh, your warmth, your smile. 

All of it.

Not to mention that deliciously curvy body that had been keeping him warm at night. He really missed that. More than than anything he needed a fucking kiss.

But you were ignoring him. And Ari had discovered pretty quickly that he didn’t like any of it. Not one bit.

So, he’d turned to what he felt like was his only ally in this god-forsaken town: the newly minted sheriff’s deputy, Milton Foster.

“So you’re really trying to tell me that the reason my woman is pissed at me is because I ate Charline Marshall’s pecan pie at the town potluck, liked it, and asked for seconds.” Ari smooths an annoyed hand over his bearded face. Trying to understand Bell’s Creek’s local politics could really do a number on a person. 

“And don’t forget that she purposely dropped your lady’s bramble berry pie on the ground.” Milton does a quick spin in his chair. “She tried to pretend it was an accident, but most of us know better. Charline Marshall has eyes for you and I think she might be ready to make it known.”

“I’m pretty sure that I couldn’t even pick that woman out of a lineup.”  

Milton simply shrugs before taking another spin in his desk chair. “You’ve got a lot of admirers, Mr. Bounty Hunter. A man like you blows into town…well, you’re downright exotic. Every single red-blooded woman under 75 wants a taste.”

Ari visibly shudders before crossing his legs at the ankle. He didn’t want anyone else. This particularly surly Bounty Hunter wanted you. He only wanted to eat your food. Enjoy your sweets. Fall to his knees and devour the fuck out of your pretty little pussy.

“Hard pass, buddy.” Your lawman sighs. “I didn’t know shit about the pie incident. I mean, how could I when she was barely talking to me or anyone at that party?”

“Not saying it’s your fault, big guy. Logically, what would you have been able to do if she had told you?”

Ari looks up at him, his piercing blue gaze never once leaving the young deputy’s. “I would’ve taken her back to my place and spent the rest of the night making her feel better. I would’ve done everything in my power to take my girl’s mind off that petty shit.”

“Mmm.” Milton murmurs as understanding suddenly dawns. “I really don’t wanna get too deep in your business, but your lady is like a sister to me.” He leans back in his chair so that he can kick his feet up on his desk. “We used to play on the playground together as kids. And full disclosure, she used to beat my ass.” The deputy chuckles as he begins to recount all the way you used to be a tiny force of nature. 

“I…can see that.”

“Yeah. Yeah. Anyway, I think your original plan was a good one.” 

“Meaning?” Ari leans over to take a sip of his now cold coffee. It tasted like shit anyway, even when it was hot. In fact he longed for you, his BIrd, to make him one of your little caffeine-infused concoctions – preferably while wearing nothing but his shirt. 

So he could also take a bite out of that luscious ass while you refreshed his mug. After all, he was a man who prided himself on his ability to multitask. 

“Meaning, you need to find a way to distract her while making your point.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, you’re a smart fuckin’ guy who set his sights on someone who could easily be the most stubborn woman in the whole damned state.” A smirking Milton offers up a salute with his can of Dr. Pepper. “That’s for you to figure out. All I can do at this point is wish you luck.” 

“Thanks.” Ari grunts, wishing that he had a better idea of what to do with you.

Oh, rest assured that he’d figure it out. You were too important to him not to. He just hoped you’d find it in your heart to take it easy on him for his mistake. 

The Next Day

You wake up to the smell of cooking sausage wafting into your room. It makes you smile as you stretch your arms over your head. Your stomach growls in agreement, subtly reminding you that you’d neglected to make dinner last night. 

Oops. You hadn’t meant to forget, it had just happened. Normally you would end your night with speaking to your Beast of a Bounty Hunter, who always made sure you ate. But lately, you have been both mad at him and embarrassed.   

Because at a recent town potluck, Ari had eaten your rival’s pecan pie. Now, you weren’t children, but this had also been after she’d purposely sabotaged your own dessert by accidentally dropping it on the ground. 

Charline pretended that it had been a mistake. But the way you’d witnessed her laugh after the fact. And then she’d fed your man, reveling in every minute. You’d known her pecan pie was dry, but Ari had seemed to enjoy it. So much so that he’d asked for a second piece. 

Which was fine, except it had hurt your feelings. And you hadn’t been sure how to relay exactly relay that fact either. So you’d clamped down. You’d bottled up. 

And as a result, your poor, sweet man was suffering. Which meant you needed to apologize. But you weren’t quite sure how to go about it. As you sit up, you vow to yourself to give him a call today. As soon as you sat down and enjoyed your breakfast.

And then it occurs to you. You weren’t the one cooking. Which meant someone was in your house. 

You spring out of bed and grab your Louisville Slugger that you always kept nearby. Taking a deep breath, you quietly make your way down the stairs, your trusty bat poised to take a swing at whatever moron who’d chosen to take up residence in your kitchen.

Baring your teeth, you crest around the corner on bare feet, ready to make your presence known. 

“You gonna hit me, Bird?” Ari muses as he adds a dash of salt, followed by pepper to whatever it is he’s got cooking in the skillet. Your flippin' skillet. “Is that really how this ends? You take me out while I’m being kind enough to whip us up some breakfast?”

Momentarily flummoxed you find yourself lowering your weapon in favor of taking in the scene before you. This man – your Bounty Hunter – was currently standing in your kitchen clad in nothing but an apron. 

Your apron. And yet somehow it fit him better

“Wh–what are you doing?” You ask him, letting your baseball bat clatter to the floor at your feet. You wouldn’t need it. You were safe with this man, but only to a point. “And how’d you get in?” You hadn’t given him a key yet. 

That was supposed to be a present for later. 

“Eh.” Ari shrugs, flipping a pancake with surprising skill. “Maybe I saw my gift and swiped it after the potluck. Maybe you weren’t listening to me and I couldn’t get a read on you, so I had to be an asshole and make an executive decision.” He turns away from you to drop a finished pancake on a plate, giving you a fantastic view of his perfectly muscled ass.

“You mad?” 

“N-no.” You respond as you feel your thighs clench. God, how you wished that you’d come down here wearing pants. “I was actually planning to reach out to you today. Can I ask what you’re doing?” You shiver as you feel your thighs grow damp, your traitorous pussy working against you. 

You should be mad that your Beast had broken into your house. Instead you were happy to see him with a much deserved apology ready to fall from your lips. 

“Making you breakfast. Chocolate chip pancakes, eggs, and sausage.” He adds another delicious pancake to the stack. “I’m gonna feed you, and then I’m gonna fuck you, and make you rethink ever ignoring me again.” He purrs, the intoxicating rumble coming from somewhere deep in his chest. 

Fuck you were so wet it was almost embarrasing. 

“I’ve earned the rights to that tight little pussy, baby. And when I make a mistake like I did with that goddamned Charline, I want you to tell me.” Ari turns off the range, pulling the food off the heat and onto a plate.

“I’m sorry.” You murmur, both hating and loving the way your nipples pebble beneath the thin fabric of your oversized t-shirts. Actually, it was one of his. A detail he also seemed to notice. “How can I make it up to you?”

Ari studies you for a moment, his handsome face tilting to the side. And then your eyes stray to the sight of his impressive erection. You watch as one of his big hands reaches down to fist his hard cock, pumping it once. Twice. 

“You can start by going back upstairs. I want you naked, on all fours. I want to come up there and feast my eyes on your soaking wet cunt.” His heated gaze bores into your own, making your already drenched core spasm one more. “And you’d better be wet for me, otherwise I’m gonna spank it. And you.” 

“O-okay.” You find yourself taking a step back, your hand clutching at the wall. 

“I’m gonna eat it baby.” Ari growls, his voice filled with a mix of unbridled lust and determination. “I’m gonna make that pussy fucking cry. And you’re gonna fucking take it. You hear me?”

“Yes.” You whisper, resisting the urge to reach down as you stroke your eager fingers over your throbbing clit. “Yes, Sir.”

He takes a menacing step towards you, his body delighting in the way that you shiver. You’d been bad. Which means it was time to pay the price. And what better man to exact that payment than your own handsome, 6”4 Beast? 

“And then I’m gonna fuck you in front of that brand new mirror I bought you. I’m gonna show you who owns that beautiful body and remind you why it’s important to talk to me when you need me.” Another menacing step. “And then I’m gonna feed those delectable curves after I’ve had my fill.”

“And then…” He tilts his head from side to side, cracking his neck. “You’re gonna let me kiss it all better while I make love to you.”

“Y-yes, please.” Right now you were willing to give this man whatever he wanted. Whatever helped you atone for your supposed sins.

“There’s a good girl.” He intones as he unties the apron, leaving him naked and aroused in your simple kitchen. “Now run.”

END

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[russetfoxfur]

mcyt is NOT beating the criminal allegations

- mumbo did season eight which. ah. produced the wonderful quote: "My parents are still alive... but that can be changed."

- cub eats people

- bad is a cannibal. this is different from eating people, according to my irl. do i want to know

- fit was on 2b2t

- wilbur blew up a country and killed a buncha people

- phil blew up that country too (apparently)

- scar. ah. scar did monopoly mountain and things went downhill from there

- dont even get me started on gem. she started the whole secret life apocalypse. she killed etho at least sixteen times. she is on tumblr which means tango is scared of her AS HE SHOULD BE

- sausage had that whole esmp s1 evil thing. classifying this as sausage because i watched an episode of gem's where he appeared and nothing else and don't actually watch esmp except through osmosis

- didnt joe hills kill a bunch of dogs in s7

- etho ALSO kills people but BADLY (scar boogie kill)

- dream

- *eyeing zedaph's chamber suspiciously* this violates AT LEAST one scientific law or something

- grian. grian my beloved. why are you like this

- jaiden decimated the environment of teyvat

- see lizzie is like her husband. unhinged. shes just bad at surviving so no one gets to see it

- jimmy is like lizzie but more popular for it

- tango is a war criminal but he also makes funny sounds while he commits crimes so i think that negates the whole crimes thing

- while we're at it. all the lifers are criminals EXCEPT SKIZZ EXCEPT SKIZZ EXCEPT SKIZZ

- xisuma boils chicken and eats kiwi skin. worst offense on this list by far

- gem gets a second place on this list because why not. she deserves it

- bdubs bites ankles. probably

- martyn brought the watchers to the life smp which is bad in and of itself. also the Assigned Criminal At Life Series thing

- cherrifire gets an honorary spot on this list mostly because she SHOULD be able to bite ankles. due to aforementioned martyn

anyways please tag w other crimes our blorbos have commited. cheers <3

EDIT: I will be adding more crimes now

- keralis was a capitalist in s7 who bought. rotten flesh. for 128 diamonds. truly exemplifying a billionaire there. dont worry dont worry. hes not a capitalist anymore....but he was once

- pearl poisons people and then has her dogs bite you. reasonable

- cleo does arson. she also kills people. but she does this a lot so it also negates the crimes

- don't mess with forgelabs

- ren has become a dictator at least twice. likes bloodshed. also treebark counts for all the anguish it causes everyone. also also ACALS (assigned criminal at life series)

ALSO if anyone is going to yell at me for fit being on 2b2t. i do not watch him. he is only here because my mcyt irls go insane about him. like all the time. in fact i don't watch qsmp or dsmp but theyre popular enough i know a bit about them. <3

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♡ 𝔸𝕟𝕕 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕎𝕖𝕣𝕖 "ℝ𝕠𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕥𝕖𝕤" ♡

♡ Mature Content! Minors DNI! Warnings below the break ♡

♡ Pairing: ot8!boyfriend!ateez x chubby!fem!reader

♡ Summary: A nice, calm, wholesome movie night with your boyfriends except I lied and nothing but absolute filth happens.

♡ Genre: smut with a sprinkle, a smidge, a barely visible flake of plot

♡ Word Count: 3.6k-ish

♡ Warnings: (issa lot happening so pls lmk if I miss anything) masturbation (f), use of toys (f receiving), oral (f & m receiving), anal penetration & eating (f receiving), unprotected sex (ya'll know not to do that irl!), creampies, edging, double vaginal penetration, things get rough, scratching, gagging, pet names (good girl, bad girl, slut, le usual)

♡ A/N: I wrote this with the intention of writing this soft, romantic piece but my mind got lost in the gutter and built a home there so here we are. Thanks to @anyamaris for supporting me in my nonsense as she always does.

Even with the air conditioner on, a wave of heat washes over you. Two fingers---your fingers---press firmly against your clit. You know your body better than anyone in this room. Every flick of your wrist makes your walls clench around the vibrator Hongjoong’s fucking you with. The ultra-soft silicone curves to rest its flat tip directly on your g spot. He keeps it at medium speed, the low hum of the toy a hypnotizing instrumental to the weakened moans leaving your lips. “You’re so beautiful” he whispers, delicately kissing your thigh. And you are.

Lying in the middle of your living room floor on a pile of the fluffiest pillows, you’re the prettiest thing any of them have ever seen. The plan had been to watch a movie. Horror---comedy---who cares? How could they watch anything but you? Legs spread wide. Pussy weeping, begging you to keep going just like that. Your panties, moist beyond measure, are looped around your ankle. The tight plaid mini skirt you wear is pushed up, not denying them a bit of your plush belly. Your nipples are two, tightly beaded indentations in your black crop top. They brush against the cotton each time your chest rises, turning you on even more.

It’s getting harder to play with your clit. Your muscles are tensing like a rubber band stretched near its breaking point. Your wrists are going limp. Your legs are shaking, causing your thighs to jiggle so deliciously that Hongjoong can’t resist nibbling at them. What he loves, what gets him off the most, is simply to watch you make a mess of yourself. “Mmm, Joongie. I’m gonna cum---” you gasp, arching against the pillows. Hongjoong’s laugh is nearly undetectable but you hear it, oozing lust. He’s happy with himself and with you. Pulling the soaked vibrator from your core, he pushes three fingers into you.

“Cum for me, princess. Cum around my fingers.” Hongjoong moves your hand away from your clit, wrapping his lips around it in a small O shape. Your arms fall above your head, your head turning to catch Yunho staring at you from the couch. Yunho looks spaced out. It’s as if his mind is off somewhere far away but that couldn’t be further from the truth. His mind is on you and no one else. It's fixated on the way your eyelids flutter when Hongjoong suckles at your clit. It’s committing to memory that sweet little smile you shoot him right before you lose control of your body. 

Hongjoong’s been edging you for an hour all for this moment when he can finger you hard and fast, tonguing your clit as pleasure rips through your body. You’re grabbing at nothing---at anything---to ground yourself but it’s no use. “Hongjoong. Fuck” you whine, struggling to find your breath, “I can’t. Too much. Too---fuck.” Wooyoung rises from his spot on the recliner to kneel above your head. “Let me help” he coos, kissing you on the forehead. His fragrant sable locks dance around your cheeks like curtains, shutting out the rest of the world.

Smooth hands massage their way up your arms, loosening your muscles as they tighten. Fingers press into your shoulders---tickle your collarbone---traverse the arches of your breasts to circle your nipples. Woo slips your shirt up, laying his hands flat on your breasts. He kneads them, pinching your nipples in his palms. “Woo---” you moan, “Joongie---ah.” You mindlessly writhe beneath them. Hongjoong’s knuckles are grinding against your slit. His fingers---they’re so deep---spreading you open even wider. 

Woo smiles down at you and there’s something so genuine about it because it is. “He’s right---” he says, “You’re so beautiful.” Woo drags his tongue across your lips just as Hongjoong’s tongue swirls between your pussy lips. There’s an audible squelching sound when his fingers pop out of you, the suction of your walls holding onto him for dear life too relentless to let him go quietly. Hongjoong gets up on his knees, sucking at his fingers, and admires the way you’re still clenching for him. He’d edge you more---keep you like this all night---but he knows he has to share.

With one last kiss which he plants on your lower belly, he leaves you in Woo’s capable hands. Woo reaches over you to run a finger across your slit and you giggle at how much it tickles. When he leans forward you get a clear view of how hard he is and catch yourself salivating. You bring a hand up to rub against his bulge. A groan emerges from somewhere deep within him, “Bad girl.” Still a tad loopy from your orgasm, you fumble your way up onto your knees. “But you love it, don’t you?” you tease, your hand reaching down to rub against him again.

Woo nibbles at his bottom lip, pulling you closer to him. You run your fingers through his hair, tucking a rogue strand behind his ear, “Up.” One word spoken in the singsong voice of an angel such as yourself has him up on his feet without question. Just as you reach for Woo’s zipper, strong arms grab you from behind, locking you in their embrace. “Choi San!” you gasp, admiring that dimpled grin of his, “I’m kinda trying to focus here---” San kisses down your neck, dipping one hand between your thighs.

His other hand cradles your chin, fingers pinching into your cheeks, and turns your head back towards Woo where a throbbing cock, arousal moistening the tip, waits for you. “Then focus---” San says, lightly squeezing your cheeks. You let your tongue fall free, resting it on the underside of Woo’s cock. Rolling it around his sensitive tip, you collect the warm salty liquid on your tongue. San lets go of your cheeks, giving you the room to bring your hand up and grip Woo’s base. You glance up at him and he’s already fixed on you. They stay that way as your fingertips trace the veins traveling up his shaft, stroking back to his base and starting all over again.

San raises your ass enough to slip his cock between your thighs. Somehow he’s even harder than Woo and you haven’t even touched him yet. “You wanna fuck me, Sannie?” “Hmm, is that how we ask?” he growls into your neck, grinding against you. Poking your ass out, you lay your head back onto his shoulder, “I want you to fuck my tight little cunt, Sannie. Please.” San grips you by the hips, sinking into you with zero patience. A vibrator has nothing on San’s cock. Woo tangles his fingers in your hair, sliding his thickness between your lips.

Bobbing your head back and forth, you suck your cheeks in---fan them out---mimicking the exact thing your pussy’s doing to San’s cock. It’s a flawlessly choreographed dance between the three of you. San bucking his hips, feeding you every inch. You rolling back against him, taking him like a--- “Pretty little slut---” San’s panting, the slobber dripping down your chin from sucking Woo off making you look like exactly that. Woo holding your head steady while you pump his glistening length, your hand and mouth working together to put his stomach in knots.

With Woo stuffing your cheeks, your screams are muffled when San picks up his pace. “Is this what you wanted, baby?” he says, slapping you on the ass. “Mmpphh” is all you can manage, Woo’s cock hitting the back of your throat. Woo and San bounce you back and forth, whispering praises that have you back on the edge in no time. Your hips stutter, cluing San in that you’re close, and his pace becomes unforgiving. Woo scoops up one of your breasts, pinching your nipples, feeling their weight in his hand. “Don’t stop---shit---y/n. So good. Don’t---” Woo twitches between your lips, pumping his seed directly down your throat.

Never one to be wasteful you drink him down, massaging his balls with your free hand. “Fuck---pussy’s so good y/n---gonna cum” San hisses and you’re cumming again. He cums with you, ropes of white painting your insides from the other end. Woo leans forward, kissing your puffy lips, “I’ll get you some water.” “And a popsicle please.” Woo and San look at each other---back at you---at each other---back at you. San straightens out your skirt, “What for?” Your gaze dances over to Seonghwa and the two of you immediately begin to blush. “We---uh---” Seonghwa stutters, “Don’t worry about it.”

Yeosang politely moves Woo and San away from you. “Excuse me. Sorry” he apologizes, moving between them to sweep you up into his arms, “We’ll get the water.” It’s not that you don’t know Yeosang can pick you up but every time he does you melt. Yeosang carries you toward the kitchen and Seonghwa’s right behind him. “And the uh---yeah.” Jongho hops up to follow them, pushing through San and Woo with zero of the politeness Yeosang offered. “Thanks though” he grins, patting Woo on the shoulder, “But not really.” 

“Oh my---that’s---that” you gasp, pleasantly surprised at how much you enjoy the sensation. Seonghwa bending you over your dresser and swirling a popsicle in your asshole wasn’t on your 2023 bingo board but he has you wondering why it never was. The chill of the popsicle is calming in a way. You were overheating for a bit there but now? You feel tingly all over. With the popsicle melted and your thighs coated in drips of sticky, strawberry syrup, Seonghwa goes to work licking it off of you. His long tongue trails up your left thigh---down your right thigh. It comes back up to your ass, nibbling at the plush cheeks and making you squeal. He stays there for a second kissing them, massaging them, tickling them with the tip of his tongue.

“Hwa---mmph” you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he tongues your candy-coated asshole. Imagine having an itch. Not just any itch. One of those itches that makes it difficult to focus on anything else. One of those itches that refuse to be ignored. But you can’t reach it. No matter how hard you try, your arms just aren’t reaching until---oh god---you finally do. You scratch it and it’s so good that your legs could give out. Nothing, not a single thing, compares to how uniquely amazing that feels. That’s what it feels like to have Seonghwa making figure eights in your ass like his tongue's a professional figure skater.

While you’re bent over seeing stars, he maintains a shaky hold on his cock. Each stroke is slow and deliberate, in sync with yours. “Fuck, you taste so good” he mumbles, fully prepared to smother himself if it means tasting as much of you as possible. You hear a moan you’ve heard a dozen times before. Seonghwa tries to suppress them when he cums even though you wish he wouldn’t. Usually, he hates being messy but his cum has already glazed over his hand and the afterglow is heaven. “Fuck it,” he says to himself, falling across the bed. Spinning around you come face to face with Jongho. “Hey ya cutie” you beam, poking his cheeks.

Sometimes people say that he’s scary, mean even, but when you look at him all you see is your cuddly bear. You drape your arms over his shoulders for support, “Your turn?” Jongho effortlessly lifts you onto the dresser, kissing you like he’s been waiting forever to do it. And he has. “My turn.” He presses the head of his cock against your clit and there they are again. The hot flashes. That thin layer of perspiration on your skin. Jongho grabs your arms, pinning them behind you, and drives into you. “You’re still so wet.” “Not still” you whisper, “This is just for you.” Jongho thrusts into you and you’re full again, his cock much thicker than you remember.

Your exhausted muscles can hardly hold up to being fucked this hard but you don’t have to worry about that. In his arms, you don’t have to worry about anything besides feeling good. He could keep you steady all night if Yeosang weren’t snatching you away, tossing you on the bed. “Yeosang!” you shout, sliding back on the bed, “You can’t just throw people around like that!” Yeosang climbs on top of you, pushing your shirt up, “I can’t?” He brushes a thumb across one of your nipples, lapping at the other as his fingers massage your breast. “You can---shit---do it again” you surrender between shallow breaths.

Yeosang slips into you, his cock pulsing in time with each rise of his hips. His defined arms slip beneath your body, hands locking just behind your back. When he flips you over on top of him, it’s like your whole world’s been turned on its side. He bounces you up and down in his lap, the tremors traveling far behind your core. Just as he picks up a rhythm Jongho tears you away from him, propping you up against the wall. You’d make some smartass comment about Jongho not being good at sharing. If only there were time enough for that.

His arms are already tucked behind your knees, supporting your weight as he fucks you against the wall. “You’re such an addictive little slut, you know that?” he says, and your heart flutters. You just love when he sweet-talks you. The angle he has you at is perfect for stimulating your g spot. He’s bumping right up against it and you’re clamped down around him, as addicted to him as he is to you. “Can I borrow this?” Yeosang asks, peeling you away from Jongho and tossing you back onto the bed. 

This time you’re on your knees. All fours is simply out of the question with how completely destroyed you are. “Are you just gonna toss me around all night?” you whine, burying your face in the blankets. Seonghwa lays his head beside yours, nuzzling up to you. “Of course not” he assures you, his voice warm and comforting, “I won’t throw you around when I have you. A light roll maybe---” 

“Pirates! Cowboys! Biker gangs!” you mumble incoherently, jolting awake. Shaking off those incredibly strange dreams, you realize that you’re still in bed. Judging from how dark it is in your room, it’s well past midnight. You must’ve fallen asleep after what your aching muscles are telling you was a wrestling match with a bear. A barely awake Yunho tightens his arm around you from behind, “Cowboys? I’ll do anything for you but I am not putting on a cowboy costume.” “I will,” Mingi yawns, cuddling up closer to you from the other side, “I get nice boots. Probably a cool jacket. Ooh, some guns---”

“There are no guns!” you interrupt, “When did you two even get in here?” Yunho shrugs, “A few hours ago. You never came downstairs and we missed you.” The “we” he’s referring to is obvious when you notice how hard he is against your back. “You fell asleep on us” Mingi pouts, a hand running up your thigh to squeeze your ass. You drape a leg around his waist, smooching him on the nose, “Don’t do that.” “Don’t do what?” Mingi pouts even more, knowing how soft you go for him when he does this. “That! You guys are both being so---” “So?” Yunho asks, his long fingers reaching between your legs to stroke your pussy. 

You shiver at the contact. Having Yunho behind you, his cock pressing into the small of your back, his fingers teasing you, makes your heart race. Mingi spreads your thighs, giving Yunho more than enough room to curl his fingers into you. “Finish what you were saying.” “I---uh---” “Uh---uh” Mingi mocks, petting your cheek. You move to playfully slap him but he grabs you by the wrist, kissing you before you can even consider trying anything else. Yunho eases a third finger into your core, “You like it when I play with your little cunt, don’t you?” “Mm-hmm” you hum, lidded eyes glossing over.

Yunho stays focused on tapping your sweet spot while Mingi hypnotizes you with his lips. Mingi has you so drugged, so completely entranced, that you don’t even notice when one of Yunho’s fingers is replaced with his. It’s not until there are four of them inside of you, two of Mingi’s and two of Yunho’s that you feel the difference. Feel the intensity of the stretch. “I think she likes it” Mingi grins, rubbing his thumb against your clit. Yunho follows suit, slipping a thumb into your ass. “Fuck---yes---Yunie---Mingi---mmm!” you cry out, so overstimulated that your eyes begin to water. 

They grind into you harder, forcing out screams louder than any you’ve made tonight. “Please---inside of me---wanna feel you. Both of you” you whine, so lost in how badly you want them that you don’t realize what you’re asking. Mingi slides his hand out, smearing your juices between your folds, “Aah, she’s adventurous tonight. You sure you can handle that?” “I-I can. Ah, shit. I need it.” Yunho spreads his fingers in a V, rolling them around inside of you, stretching you from every angle. Mingi brings the head of his cock to splash in the juices leaking from your needy core and Yunho pulls out of you, focusing instead on freeing himself from his pants.

For a fleeting moment, it occurs to you how fucking insane you are. Mingi and Yunho at the same time? It’s not only the thickness, it’s the length. You wonder if you have a death wish. Mingi guides himself into you, only the first inch, sending shockwaves through your system. If this is how you die, you figure, at least you’ll die happy. Yunho spits into his palm, moistening his length before he brings it to meet your already occupied slit. Mingi slides in another inch or two, keeping his cock flush against the roof of your walls. Yunho raises himself into you, taking his time to watch for any signs that you’re uncomfortable, “Let us know if it’s too much, okay?” You make a little squeak to acknowledge how nice it feels to be protected, even when he’s in the process of tearing you in half.

He begins to slide up into you, pausing to let Mingi push in a little more, then taking his turn again. It’s a toe-curling, lip-biting back and forth to get them both inside of you. Once they are, you're falling apart, screaming, digging your nails into Mingi’s arm. Pulling his shirt up over his head, he gathers the material and shoves it in your mouth. “We don’t want them to think we’re killing you.” You’re so full, stretched beyond your limit, that only one of them can fuck into you at once. There’s no room for anything---or anyone---else. You belong to them. “You’re always worth waiting for but shit” Mingi grunts, his length throbbing, as much as it can given the space.

There’s moisture on your cheeks. You’re crying. Not from pain. No. That initial sting gave way to pleasure once they were both finally inside of you. You’re crying, drenched in your own tears, because parts of you are shifting that you didn’t even know could. Every stroke has your ears ringing, your heart in your stomach. You feel heavy and weightless all at once. The darkness of the room swallows you while somehow managing to be blindingly bright. There’s an explosion somewhere inside, releasing the building pressure. You’re at your peak again, legs kicking like you’re dangling high up. It hits you hard. So hard that you’re not breathing. Breathe, girl, breathe!

Just as you catch your breath and think that you’re maybe---maybe---coming down, Yunho's filling you up like a donut. Mingi pulls out, tapping his head against your clit as warm cum sprays against you. Correction: Filling you up like a glazed donut. The three of you collapse, unable to do much else besides make a series of broken noises. “Hmph mmm mm hmph,” you say? Scream? Mumble? Mingi throws his arm across his chest, understanding your incoherent huffs, and takes the shirt out of your mouth. You pat him lovingly on the head, “Thanks.” 

Readjusting yourself on the toilet, you rub the partially melted popsicle between your legs. This is nowhere near sexual in nature. You’re just in desperate need of relief from how sore you are after the day’s events. “Aah, yup, that’s the spot” you sigh, “Seonghwa really was onto something.” “Was I?” Seonghwa asks, rubbing his eyes. You jump a bit, startled by his sudden appearance in the doorway. Seonghwa stretches, dragging his feet into the bathroom.

As adorable as he is in his pajamas, his hair a complete mess, seeing him right now isn’t ideal. He shakes off the sleep, taking his time to process what’s going on. “Is that a---” “Ssh, if you tell anyone---” Seonghwa’s cheeks turn rosy, a smile spreading across his face. He takes you by the hand, bringing you to your feet, “Come on.” “Hwa, hold on, do you think? I wasn’t--no. No!” You reach back to drop the popsicle in the sink but Hwa pulls you along. “Hold onto that.”

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart: Chapter 22 (Human Alastor x Reader)

Chapter Trigger Warnings: UwU Fluff, Angst, implied sexual assault

Prev Masterlist AO3 KoFi

The basket clattered to the ground, spilling containers and napkins. Glass shattered as the cups hit the ground, but you hardly noticed it. Alastor’s foot caught in the basket as he stepped forward, trying to save you from crashing into the front of his car as an uncharacteristic curse dropped from his lips. 

It didn’t do him any good, only crushing the basket as he himself stumbled. The cool steel of the car bit into your back. Pain ripped through your healing ribs as you gasped. The pain faded into the background as Alastor caught himself just a moment before his body crashed against yours. 

His hands landed on either side of you, braced against the hood of the car. You could just feel his chest brush against yours as you took gasping breaths, more out of shock than anything else. 

He was so close now. You could feel him. God help you, you could smell him. Musk and pine with a touch of cigarette smoke. The smell along with his warmth made your head spin. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, not moving away. 

“My ankle twisted was all,” you whispered, eyes darting between his, then down at his lips as his tongue darted out, wetting them. “I just stepped wrong.” 

“I’m glad,” Alastor said, lifting a hand to brush stray hair behind your ear. “It’d kill me if you came to any real harm with me.” 

Alastor waited, watching as your eyes roamed his face. His heart beat in his chest as fire felt like it burned through his blood, threatening to eat away at the resolve he maintained ever so carefully. 

He leaned forward and you tilted your face up, eyes wide, looking so much like a doe caught in headlights. Tempting, god above, you were teaching him what temptation truly meant. If this is what those women felt as they chased after him, desperate for as little as a look, he understood it now. 

A deep sigh ripped from his chest as he rested his forehead against yours, taking in the warmth of your skin and the way you trembled ever so slightly, trapped between him and the car. He should let you up, should give you space to breathe, but it was taking everything in him not to take what distance you had from you. 

He wouldn’t. God, how he wanted to, but he wouldn’t. You had your choices taken from you again and again. He had watched from a tree, fucking helpless as the man you married invaded the sanctity of your body against your wishes. 

Had you ever kissed a man willingly? Even once?

Was there a time when you longed for lips against yours? Was it ever good for you? You had told him that there hadn’t been anyone before your husband. Had you ever longed for his touch at one point? His lips? 

Selfishly, Alastor hoped not. 

What would it feel like to kiss someone he desired? How he wanted to taste your kiss, but you failed to move. He needed distance before he lost his mind, before curiosity burned the last of his resolve. 

Distance. He needed to give you space. Slowly, he did just that, pulling back. As he did so, he noticed your hand resting against his chest. Had it always been there? He didn’t know. He had been so absorbed in the way your eyes darted around his face that it very well could have been. 

You could feel the way his heart beat under your hand. His open jacket covered some of your fingers. Having your hand under his jacket, even just partially, felt far more intimate than the kisses he would place to your temple or the way his hand would linger, holding yours. 

They were not kisses, you told yourself. Yes, they were, your heart screamed back. You didn’t know which was true.

“Why did you pull away?” you asked the question in your heart before your mind gathered control of your lips. 

“You’re married,” he said softly.

“Oh,” you said over him, looking away, shame burning in you as your hand slipped from his chest. “I’m sorry, I-”

His hand wrapped around yours, holding the palm of your hand flush against his heart, ensuring you had no choice but to feel how rapidly it was beating against his chest. 

“I don’t care about that. I only mean to say it should be your choice.” Alastor said, eyes locked on you as he hooked your chin with a finger, pulling your face back to his, ensuring you saw him as he spoke. “I will not be just another man taking from you, forcing you.”

Your choice.

What a strange concept. Tears burned in your eyes as you tried to put your thoughts in order. You took too long, and he was pulling away again, a guarded smile across his lips.

You acted before you could think about it anymore. You only got one life to live. The bible had taught you that lusting after someone that was not your marriage mate was as sinful as the act of adultery itself. In your heart, you know you had already paved your road to hell. 

The fabric of his shirt bunched under your hand as your fingers balled into a fist, grabbing ahold of him as you threw your other arm around his neck. You didn’t know what you were doing, never had you initiated a kiss before, but you’d seen it in films and from couples that actually cared for eachother. 

You pulled yourself up off the car, or maybe you were pulling him down to you. You didn’t know for sure. Then his lips were against yours. His hand, which had left your chin when you moved, hovered in the air for a moment before resting against your neck lightly. 

Would he push you away?

Fingers curled around your neck, weaving through the hair at the nape as he leaned into you. He drug his hand from the hood of his car, wrapping his fingers around your hip as he held you in place. 

Sanity clawed back into your mind as you pulled away, blinking your eyes open as you looked up at him. What would he do? What would he say? You pulled your lip between your teeth as you waited. 

He had said it was your choice and impulsive though it may have been; you had made your choice. 

Alastor’s hands were long, strong, yet elegant. His thumb caressed your jaw and then applied pressure, just under the bone, to encourage you to tilt your head up a little more. 

Then his lips were on yours. You could feel the way he sighed into the kiss, his chest moving with it as the breath washed over your face. His hand wrapped around your lower back, pulling you tighter to him. Your hand ran up his chest, fingers dancing over the collar of his shirt, taking in the soft feeling of his neck.

His hand on your lower back ran up, holding you closer. It seemed with every exhale of air; he pulled you closer as his lips moved against yours, pulling and pushing. Each time his lips left yours for a gasping breath, he was back again.

As you pulled air into your lungs, his kiss pinched your lower lip softly between his lips. Your head spun. Never had you dreamed it could feel so good to simply be kissed. His hair was as soft as you dreamed as your hand slipped along his neck.

Your thumb brushed against his jaw and your head swam at the feeling of a patch of stubble, ever so small and slight. A missed spot from his morning shave, just under his jaw. A speck of imperfection, hardly noticeable unless you ran the pad of your thumb over it. 

Your lips closed around his, returning to the kiss as you tried to better slot your lips together, trying to correct the misalignment. Any thoughts you may have held onto as he showed you what it felt like to be kissed was lost as something warm and wet darted out between his lips. 

You were not sure if he was trying to lick his lips or yours, but the way he felt had you gasping, begging for air. It was intoxicating, more so than any wine you’d drank in your life as you tasted him as his tongue softly swept into your mouth. 

His kiss wasn’t greedy. Nothing about it hurt. Nothing about it was a battle. It was soft, sweet. You were gasping as his tongue withdrew, leaving you to chase it. You flexed your fingers, scratching his scalp lightly in the process as he continued to pull back. 

Your name was a whisper on his lips, his voice ever so thick and naked as he said, “I’ve got to get you back.” 

“I don’t want to go back,” you whispered back. “I want to stay with you.” 

“We must be careful, ma cherie.” Alastor whispered, leaning in and placing a soft, chaste kiss against your lips before stepping back, putting distance between your bodies. 

You softly touched your lips as you stood in the kitchen, the sink filling with hot water. Laurence hadn’t been terribly impressed with dinner, but the cleaning had earned you mercy for it. 

It felt like you were suffocating, waiting for the sound of his office door closing behind him. Alastor had said he would leave you a note, and you just needed to sneak out to get it. 

Warm hands wrapped around your waist, pulling your back to a too wide chest. Bile rose in your throat as you felt Laurence’s hands smoothe around your front. 

Lips that disgusted you brushed against the top of your head in a vile mockery of the lips you couldn’t stop thinking about. 

“Laurence, honey?” You whispered, frozen otherwise in place. 

“I’ve got a business trip tomorrow,” he said, holding you. “It was sprung on me. That’s why I was so stressed this morning.” 

“That’s alright,” you said though you were less and less sure that it was as you spent more and more time with Alastor. 

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, baby.” 

“I know,” you said, guilt and doubt clawing into you. Your husband was here, arms around you, and you kept thinking about another man. Why couldn’t you feel the way you did for Alastor for your husband? 

“The tip will have me gone overnight again,” Laurence said in your ear. 

“Tomorrow night?” You asked, trying to not sound hopeful.

“Tomorrow night.” Laurence agreed, “I’m going to go upstairs and bathe. Be ready for bed when I’m done.” 

“Yes, Laurence,” you said, tears welling in your clenched eyes as you willed them not to fall. It would be worse for you if you cried, it always was. If you took it with a smile, it wasn’t as bad. Sometimes though, it felt like Laurence’s goal was simply to make you cry so he could be angry about it. 

You looked up from the dishes in the sink as you listened to your husband walk toward the stairs, eyes training on the apple tree in the distance. You couldn’t see it, not really with the darkness of night. It felt like Alastor was out there, looking back at you. He promised more that you couldn’t reach out for. Alastor was something you wanted so badly and yet, as long as you were married, you could never have him. 

There was rat poison under the sink, tucked behind bottles of vinegar and cleaning solutions. You put it there yourself, back in the fall. Tears slipped down your face as you questioned how much it would take to be free of the man you called your husband. 

Then your eyes rose a little more while the sound of Laurence’s weight creaked on the stairs. As Laurence turned on the water, running the bath, your eyes locked on a flash of light. It was little more than a spark coming from the darkness around the apple tree. 

You couldn’t kill your husband, Alastor wouldn’t want anything to do with you if you did. A good man like Alastor would never want a woman who killed another, a woman who committed such an ultimate sin. He needed a strong, infallible woman who would help him push forward.

You wouldn’t deserve a moment of his time if you did something as monstrous as murder. Wiping tears you hadn’t noticed falling from your face, you dried your hands on your house dress and walked through the kitchen on the toes of your shoes. Each step was careful and slow, ensuring that the heels didn’t click against the floors as you walked toward the back door. 

Slowly, you opened the door and slipped outside. The sound of crickets and cool night are enveloped you as you glanced up, expecting to see your husband in the bedroom window waiting to catch you. 

He wasn’t. Your bedroom was dimly lit by the gaslights in the hall. You were in the clear. Walking quickly turned into running as you crossed the back garden. It was dark, and you nearly tripped over your own feet and then again on twigs.

It was selfish, a fleeting hope that wormed itself into your heart, but you hoped he was still there. You wanted to see him again, to feel his arms around you again. Even for just a moment, you wanted to feel his kiss again. 

He was gone when you reached the tree. Disappointed huffs of breath puffed between your lips as you stuffed the fleeting heartbreak down. There wasn’t time to be disappointed. He had been there. You had seen the light from a match being struck. 

Reaching blindly into the hole, you found it. There was a notebook and sticking out from it, a torn-out page. Grabbing the page, you unfolded it, heart in your throat as you struggled to find a ray of moonlight bright enough to read by.

“My Darling,” Alastor’s neat penmanship started. “I enjoyed our lunch and dearly hope that you can say the same. It pains me so to return you to that house, knowing what you endure at the hands of another. I’ll be counting down the moments until I may see you again. Would it be selfish of me to check back tonight for a response? Perhaps, though, I must confess I will before I return home for the night.

Until then, A” 

You held the note to your chest, heart beating fast. Next to the notebook in the hole was a lighter to burn the letters, but you couldn’t stomach the thought. Instead, you folded the paper and tucked it into your apron. It was a risk you couldn’t help taking. 

It was dark and you could only hope your penmanship would please him as much as his did you. It pained you that you had no time to sprawl a lovely message to match his. 

“I don’t have long,” you started, crouched next to the tree as you braced the notebook on your knee. “He’s going out-of-town tomorrow for work. He’ll be gone overnight. I want to see you, if that’s alright. I dearly wish to see you again.” You signed the note with your initial, just as he did and folded it, tucking it along with the notebook and pen into the hole.

Would he have been by already before returning home for the night? You didn’t know. You hoped he would be by again, even in this late hour. It was selfish. He needed rest too, but you hoped that flash of light wasn’t him saying goodbye. 

For a moment you felt the need to snatch the paper up and scrawl a declaration of your feelings across the page. Leave it to speak everything you were to afraid to say, too ashamed to say but instead you turned away. 

You’d been out for far too long already. You needed to get back. Laurence would be out of the bath and looking for you soon. Based on how he held you, you doubted he would tolerate your presence being absent from the bedchamber. 

“I’m sorry,” Laurence said, running his hands over your arms, bodies lit by nothing but the moonlight through the window. That too was quickly fading as clouds moved in. 

“You needn’t be.” Your eyes traveled, looking everywhere but at your husband. 

“I’ve been working so much we’ve not been able to make it to the cinema much lately. Even our lunches have fallen off.” His lips moved against your neck as you tried to stand as still as you could. 

“You’ve been working hard,” you whispered. “I don’t hold it against you.” 

“You don’t seem to appreciate how hard I’m working,” Laurence’s voice turned sharp. What you said was wrong. You didn’t know how or what the right thing was, but you had said the wrong thing. 

“Of course I do,” you forced yourself to turn and face him, though you couldn’t make yourself reach out for him like you knew he wanted. 

“Then fucking act like it.” Laurence’s mouth crashed against yours in a hard kiss that seemed to be a mockery of what you had learned a kiss could be. “Icy bitch.” He said as he tore your nightgown down your body. 

It was near the middle of the night as Alastor crept through the small forest, note in his pocket. The cloud cover was far too thick for him to have a hope of reading it, but that was alright. 

It was a note from you. That’s all that mattered. At least, he hoped it was. He knew it wasn’t the note he left, written after he had delivered you to your back door. 

Once he was safely through the trees, he sat on the first park bench he found, tucked under the warm glow of the streetlamp. Oh, how his heart pounded and that feeling in his gut bloomed as he took in your slanting letters, messy from speed and poor writing position. 

Tomorrow. 

He could see you again so soon. He’d have to plan something. Would he take you out for another evening on the town? Perhaps not Mimzy’s. The memory of Laurence there may be too fresh still. 

The next town over? No, he didn’t want to waste so much time driving when he could be with you in a more intentional sense. His home was the only logical decision. He’d have to make something for dinner, make it worth the night in. That would be fine, large home and middle class upbringing aside, you seemed content with the simpler things in life. 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

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[kimetsu-no-yaiba-writings]

Akaza x pregnant demon reader (she's pregnant by him) sfw +nsfw headcanons

Ask and you shall receive! Thank you for requesting anon, I hope that you enjoy and that I've done your request justice.

If you want to request something for Akaza - or anyone else - then my askbox is always open and ready to receive, so slide something my way again when you have time (^__^.)

I'll be putting the NSFW headcanons beneath a 'Keep Reading' line, so minors DNI

And just as a final thing,

Akkkkkkaaaazzzaa (ﾉ∀`♥) My beloved!

Akaza with a pregnant S/O - SFW + NSFW Headcanons:

SFW:

Upon first finding out that your pregnant this man is frozen in the spot before actually crying

Gets extra protective

Doesn't like being away from your side for more then 20 minutes

He is absolutely a hover.... he's always by your side

Will attack on sight if he thinks anyone - and i mean anyone - looks like they might cause you and the little bean harm

Makes sure that there's nothing in the house that could potentially harm you - "I'm sanding down the corners cause i don't want them to poke you or harm you!"

Straight up tells Muzan that he's caring for his wife + baby so won't be doing anything else unless it helps his family - does this mid-meeting and then leaves

Somehow always comes back with something new, baby books (books for new parents), clothes for the baby and toys

No matter how random the cravings if he can't make it, he'll buy you it - and if he can't get it at all then he resorts to hugging you with apology after apology falling from his lips

"You want Teriyaki glazed apple slices with honey rice? AND spicy noodles with broth and boiled eggs...will your stomach even be able to handle that?"

Makes sure to stock up on snacks that you enjoy - keeps them in places you can't reach

When it gets to the point that he can feel the baby kick akaza is glued to you even more - Face and/or hand placed against your tummy to feel the baby with a soft coo + smile

Comes up with a thousand nicknames for the baby - e.g. baby bean, firecracker, little kicker - and no, he will not stop

Buys you bigger + airy clothes so your comfortable

Massages your shoulders, back and ankles when you complain of pain and soreness - When he's not there he buys a wheat bag which you can heat up

Lots more cushions and blankets around the house so your comfy and never get cold

Gets you one of those pregnancy pillows

Has a notebook filled with baby names, what toys re good for babies, what they should be sleeping and playing with - he's honestly very prepared for this child

Somehow managed to rope Kokushibou into helping make and paint the baby's room - as well as giving him advice on what to anticipate as a dad

NSFW:

Incredibly gentle with you - not that he wasn't before - especially since your so much more sensitive

He's more focused on making sure that your comfortable, so sticks to a couple of positions that don't harm/hurt your body - although he does enjoy reverse cowgirl and you on all fours (with your head and arms resting so you don't have the baby weight hurting you)

Sometimes standing up if you have the energy

Also enjoys sex while spooning

Spends more time preparing you - oral and fingers until your essence coats your shaking thighs as well as his face and hands

His hands wander, pinch and soothe your thighs, hips and chest until you whine to get touched more

Isn't gonna fuck you against the counter as much as he used too but he'll eat you out with vigor instead

Lots of over-stimulation - sometimes accidentally but usually on purpose with a smirk and a rumbling purr in his chest

More creampies!

Enjoy's pushing his cum back into your twitching hole afterwards - tracing shapes into your clit with it as he hums as your hips jump and thighs twitch at his touch

His breeding kink really kicks into full swing

The feeling of sliding into your wet plush heat without protection makes him even more feral especially now that you pregnant - its like knowing that your already filled with him, already baring a child, makes his brain works at a mile-a-minute

Won't admit that seeing how heavy + full your breasts get with milk - and how you glow the rounder your tummy gets - goes straight to his cock

....absolutely gonna drink your milk - a dark lust filling his eyes as he runs his tongue along your tender nipple before taking it into his mouth with an obscene moan

Will absolutely play with your nipples until your a whimpering and whining mess or until milk comes out

Kisses are more desperate - planting open mouthed kisses along the column of your throat before locking your lips together

Leaves hickies along your breasts and shoulders alot more

takes things slower and gentler

[moonstruckme]

Hi! I am absolutely in love with your writing! The way you portray our boys is just *chefs kiss*

Anywho, I was wondering if I could request poly!marauders x plus size reader? Maybe she is very confident until somebody picks on her and she starts becoming obsessed with dieting and stuff. (I'm struggling a lot with that rn) just a bunch of worry and comfort from our boys.

If you don't feel comfortable writing this or just the prompt I gave it's okay. Ily!♡

Hi, thanks for requesting my love! I'm really sorry you're struggling right now, I know how hard it can be and hope you're doing your best to take good care of yourself. You're beautiful just as you are <33

cw: size insecurity, behavior that hints at disordered eating

poly!marauders x plus size!reader ♡ 1.2k words

The worst part is, you know they weren’t even really trying to insult you. 

You smiled as best you could, said your thanks politely, and moved on. Moved on outwardly, that is. Inside, the words play over and over in your head, like a song on the radio that gets worse each time you listen to it. It wasn’t that they were vicious, or particularly clever, or even wrong. It’s just, you’re not used to people commenting on your body like that. 

You know you’re not skinny. So does everyone else. Neither of you typically feel the need to confer about it. Every now and again, some cruel busybody will say something, but that’s fairly easy to brush off. They’re insecure about their own looks, they have nothing better to do than fixate on strangers’ appearances, they’ve probably been on diet pills since they were twelve. You wish them well and mostly forget about it. But what’s worse is when someone comes to you with good intentions. The idea of being perceived as pitiful or wrong—really, having your physical form perceived at all—by someone who seems to want the best for you is what really hurts. That’s what makes you want to hide, to shrink yourself down until they can’t see you anymore. To become the invisible status quo. 

It’s why, over the last few days, anything skintight or remotely showy has been relegated to the back of your closet in favor of things that hide your figure. Why you’ve stopped drawing attention to yourself with colorful makeup and instead started focusing on your health. Well, your health as it presents itself externally. 

“Anyone else fancy a dessert?” Sirius muses as you sit reading on the couch, Remus reading the next book in the series beside you. 

“Um, no,” James says, holding up a hand of cards from the game he and Sirius have been playing, “you only want to go so you don’t have to stick around and lose.” 

“Whatever my other, subconscious motives may be,” Sirius says guilelessly, “I really feel like something chocolate. Don’t you, Moons?”

That’s always a safe bet. Remus looks up from his book, intrigued. “I could go for some chocolate.” 

Sirius grins. “What about you, gorgeous?”

That’s usually a safe bet too. But you shouldn’t. “Thanks, but I’m still full from dinner.” 

Sirius looks cheated, and Remus cocks his head at you. “Really? Didn’t seem like you ate much.” He’s not wrong. Remus had made the most incredible feta pasta, it was borderline heartbreaking to leave any on your plate. But you’re trying to practice restraint, and thankfully, James had happily taken care of your leftovers for you. “Did you have a late lunch or something?”

“Mhm.” 

James looks up, eyebrows furrow bemusedly behind his glasses. “No you didn’t, angel. You said you didn’t feel like lunch after we had breakfast together, remember?”

“Oh.” You nod. So what? You’d had a late breakfast, and a decently sized dinner, and why do you really need more than two meals anyway? Who made that rule? You’re a bit hungry, but your body just needs time to adjust to your new routine. It’s used to overindulging. And nothing about today means you deserve dessert. “Right.” 

Sirius wraps his fingers delicately around your ankle, smoothing a path up your shin with his palm. “Darling,” he says, and he looks distracted as he runs his fingers over the old scars on your knee, but you know him well enough to recognize when he’s keyed in, “did you eat anything today, other than breakfast and that little bit of dinner? Any snacks or anything?” 

You can’t help the little rush of pride that goes through you. “No.” 

Sirius doesn’t look proud. In fact, he’s frowning, as are Remus and James. You change tactics. “I’m not really hungry, though.” 

“No?” Sirius' voice is unsettlingly gentle. “Why don’t you want to have dessert tonight, pretty girl?”

“Because,” you say, beginning to feel defensive (though you’re not sure of what), “I don’t need it.” 

“It’s not about need, though,” James says, and why is it beginning to feel like you’re in an argument? “It’s about what you want. Do you want a little something sweet?”

“I…” Yes. The answer is yes, but do you want it more than you want to feel good about yourself? “I think what I want more is to prove to myself that I can go without it.” 

Remus’ scars shift as his face scrunches in concern. “Dove,” he says, and you can’t decide if his tone is more reprimand or pity. You don’t like either option. “Where is this coming from?” 

“I’m just…I’m trying something new,” you decide. “I want to lose a little weight, okay? Nothing crazy.” 

“But why?” James sets down his cards, looking completely befuddled. “Angel, you’re gorgeous. You can do whatever you want, but we love you just like you are.” 

“And,” Sirius adds before you can reply, “we love you most when you’re happy. I sort of thought,” he says, lowering his voice like he’s telling you a secret, “that our late-night treat runs made you happy. No?”

“They do.” You pull your legs up onto the couch, away from Sirius’ touch. “I just…I think it would make me happy to be a more normal size, too.” 

Remus looks gutted. “Honey, you…it’s your body, and you should do whatever feels right for you to be healthy, but…we love you like this,” he insists, ardent. “You’re beautiful, I mean it, and I hate the idea that you might want to change for…well, for anyone other than yourself.” 

You hesitate. You’re not actually sure who you’re doing this for. When had you become one of the people who want for you to be smaller so desperately? “You seriously don’t think I would look better if I were thinner?” You’ve never been one to put much stock into what any men think of your appearance, so you feel silly for asking, but you’re in a vulnerable state. And really, don’t all guys want a girl that looks like the love interests in the movies you all grew up with? 

James looks you in the eye, letting you see the earnestness in his as he says, “You’re absolutely lovely, right here, right now. We wouldn’t change a thing.” 

Your answering smile is oddly watery. Remus makes an awfully lovely cooing sound, leaning over to wrap an arm around your waist and paying no mind to the chub there as he pulls you into his side. “Don’t be upset, darling. You know what I bet will cheer you up?” He smiles as you look up at him questioningly, kissing between your brows. “Some chocolate. How would you feel about that?”

You let out a quiet little laugh. “Pretty good.” 

“Yes!” Sirius pumps his fist in the air, already abandoning his cards and standing up. “I knew you’d come through, gorgeous. Now I think the more pressing question is, do we want chocolate pastries or chocolate ice cream?”

“Ice cream, obviously,” James says. “Before it gets so cold out we don’t feel like it.” 

“Not all of us suffer from weather constraints,” Sirius argues. “I vote pastry.” 

“Why would you bring ice cream up if you didn’t want it? Think long and hard, Pads. Are you going to feel like a frozen dessert when you need three layers to go outside in a few weeks?”

Remus rolls his eyes at you as you follow them out the door, letting your boys continue their bickering all the way to the store.

[luckhound]

gintoki + relationship headcanons.

↻ pairing ✦ gintoki/gender neutral reader

↻ request ✦ I read your rules and stuff, and I hope I read it right gsusvjddn can I request some relationship headcanons for Gintoki? I can't watch the final movie for Gintama yet and I am devastateD —anonymous

↻ warnings ✦ mild suggestive content, blink and you'll miss it; terrible attempt at humour

author's note: this is several years late but i Just started a rewatch and was reminded of my love for this story and its characters. so uh, better late than never?

First of all, you deserve a medal for perseverance. You managed to do the impossible by entering into a relationship with this man, who dodges romantic entanglements without even trying to despite the many possible love interests in the source material

Now you have to deal with a cheapskate who doesn't have a single romantic bone in his body. Congrats!

Don't expect to be taken out on a date any time soon; his idea of a good time is to recline on the couch and read Jump. Unfortunately, that doesn't change even when he has a partner who he could be spending his free time with

When the two of you do go out, maybe sit down somewhere for a bite to eat, Gintoki expects you to pay. What? He should foot the bill? With what money? Any cash that so much as brushes his hands is snatched up by the old hag (Otose), or gobbled up by the brat with the bottomless stomach (Kagura), or swallowed up by the pachinko machines that the idiot hits up (Gintoki)

Rarely do you have privacy. At any given time, a revolving door of characters will intrude upon your finite alone time with Gintoki; if it isn't the rare client asking for help, it's one of his friends annoyances (or so he calls them) stumbling into you two, or some two-bit villain hatching the latest evil plan that's plaguing Edo this week

Then there's Shinpachi and Kagura, who stick to the man like gum on a shoe. Sure, you do adore them, but babysitting two kids while trying to spend quality time with Gintoki can get old—you're dating a penniless samurai, not a struggling single dad!

Don't bother expecting him to get jealous or possessive; if someone were to flirt with you in front of him, it'd go right over his head

You would have to spell it out for him after the fact, and even then he'd stare at you with those dead fish eyes, wondering what you wanted him to do about it

Wait a second, you must be thinking. All of these bullet points so far have only listed the cons of dating this bastard! Where's the good stuff? What are the pros?

There aren't any, sorry to say. You're better off dumping him like yesterday's garbage and moving on to someone worth your time

Which is probably what Gintoki would say, if forced at gunpoint to answer truthfully; he has no clue why you tied your fate to him of all people

You, on the other hand, might reply with:

He's constantly finding excuses to touch you. His head in your lap while he reads Jump on the couch, his ankle brushing yours under the table when dining out, his arm tossed around your shoulders as you walk

As much as he loudly complains and huffs and rolls his eyes, he doesn't stop you when you steal food from his plate. He'll even let you swipe some of his parfait, despite threatening to make you pay for another. It'd be easy for him to slap your hand away, but he never does

Romantic he may not be, but you know just how much he wants you by the way he can't keep his hands off you when the mood hits; his every touch elicits shivers, his mouth never strays far from yours for long, his gaze dark and intent on you

There is no one more doggedly loyal than Gintoki. No one who cares more about your wellbeing and happiness. No one else who would put you first when it matters, protect you from anything or anyone that may try to harm you

For those reasons and more, you'll deal with the many downsides that come with dating Sakata Gintoki. Not always happily, mind you, but you'll do it anyway

("Why do they even put up with him?" Shinpachi wonders aloud, watching the two of you bicker for the fifth time that day. "Stockholm syndrome," is Kagura's immediate answer.)

[thebookworm0001]

Fun Sized - Banter Update

Rating: T for innuendo

Summary: Ellana is short. Really short. So of course her companions have to tease her about it.

Link: AO3

Sera: You’re short. Like. Really short.

Ellana: What? I had no idea. I’d spent this whole time thinking everyone else was just exceptionally tall. 

Sera: [Giggles] That would be a trip, wouldn’t it. Wonder if that’s why dwarves are all… like that.

Ellana: The taller the ladder you need to reach your own cabinets, the grumpier you are. It’s just a fact.

(cont. under the cut)

Sera: But you’re not grumpy. Most of the times, at least. 

[if The Iron Bull is in the party]

Bull: That’s because she’s got a good view.

Ellana: I can promise you, that has nothing to do with it. 

Bull: Hey, you can enjoy the painting without wanting to eat the bowl of fruit.

Ellana: Funny, I don’t see any works of art around here. 

Bull: There’s some kitchen servants who might disagree with you. 

[Otherwise]

Ellana: [Laughs] You should say that to my sister. I’m sure she’d have some stories to tell that say otherwise.

Varric: Anyone ever ask you if one of your parents was a dwarf?

Ellana: Oh, very original. Never heard that one before. Are you going to ask if I stunted my growth by sitting in my aravel for too long next? Got kicked in the head by a Halla?

Varric: It’s a serious question. Usually the people I see eye-to-eye with have more than a passing affiliation with the Merchants Guild. 

Varric: With the right contacts and some clever paperwork, you could make some serious coin.

Ellana: Are you… asking if I want to con the Merchant’s Guild?

Varric: No, no, not at all.

Varric: Just saying, when all this is over, you have options.

Ellana: I’m sure my vallaslin won’t cause any problems in this plan of yours.

Varric: Evidence of a forbidden romance. People love a good tragedy - even better if you can scrape out a happy end despite it. 

Varric: They’ll be eating out of the palm of your hand.

Vivienne: I was speaking with our Lady Ambassador earlier, and she informed me you had rather firmly rejected her suggestion of incorporating heels into your ensemble.

Ellana: I did. 

Vivienne: Might I inquire as to why?

Ellana: Is it not enough that I simply do not want to wear heels?

Vivienne: Desire is reason enough to do anything, my dear. That does not make it wise.

Vivienne: You are an image for all of Thedas to aspire too, and your battle for legitimacy is not one that will be easily won.

Vivienne: It might help ease the process if those you wish to impress do not have to literally look down their noses at you. 

Ellana: Perhaps. Though I doubt anyone who already dislikes me will have their minds changed by a pair of fancy footwear.

Ellana: Anyway, any respect I gained would be quickly lost the minute I tripped and fell on my ass in front of a room full of dignitaries. 

Ellana: Or even better, I caught my new armor on fire. That would give everyone something to talk about.

Vivienne: Yes, well. Perhaps you are right. Some clever tailoring, then. And posture lessons.

Vivienne: One does not need to be imposing to command a room. 

Bull: Hey Kitten, you ever get lost, just look for the horns. Can’t miss ‘em.

Ellana: And where do you think I’ll be getting so lost that I’ll need to use you as a landmark?

Bull: Oh I don’t know. The crowds in Val Royeaux can get pretty nasty. Then there’s the ramparts, wrecked towns, corn mazes, overgrown fields. Really, just about anywhere.

Ellana: I- I’m not going to disappear into the grass like a lost girl in a child’s story. 

Ellana: What, should I leave a trail of bread behind me? Find a dog to guard me from the Dread Wolf?

Bull: I hear those Ferelden dogs come in pretty handy, actually. But no.

Bull: We might want to put a bell on you though, just in case.

Ellana: Think it’ll rain today?

Bull: Depends.

Ellana: On?

Bull: If you’re aiming at my height or my bad ankle.

Ellana: I could just be making small talk. Plenty of people talk about the weather.

Bull: Yeah, but most people aren’t wringing their fingers for an hour trying to come up with a clever way to ask about it. 

Ellana: My sister was always better at jokes than I was. 

Bull: That’s alright. You’ve got your own strengths.

Bull: For example, I think you’d make a very talented armrest.

Ellana: You know I can set you on fire, right?

Bull: Don’t worry, Kitten, you’re very scary.  

Inspired by @shift-shaping 

Bull: Solas, did you hurt yourself in our last fight?

Solas: I do not believe so. Why?

Bull: You’ve been rubbing at your neck more than usual. Thought you might’ve tweaked it after that one move. I’ve got some tips that could help if it’s sore.

Solas: I thank you for the concern. Your advice would be appreciated. 

Bull: Well, first off, you’ve got to start lifting with your knees. The Inquisitor’s tiny, but that doesn’t mean you can’t hurt yourself picking her up. 

Solas: Excuse me?

Bull: Oh, and you should probably invest in some cushions, maybe those feathery ones the Orlesians have. It’ll help you stay on your knees longer.

Solas: That is none of your concern.

Bull: It is when I get between you and the next templar that takes advantage of your stiff back. 

Bull: Those charging bastards hurt, you know.

Ellana: What information do I have to pass along to the Qun to get you to stop?

Bull: What? It’s friendly advice. If he keeps bending over, he’s going to get stuck that way. 

Bull: I’m just saying, It’s easier if he comes down to your level. 

Ellana: Please just tell me who Josephine needs to blackmail for this to end.

Bull: [Laughs] Now where’s the fun in that?    

    

Blackwall: So, you and the Lady Inquisitor, how does that work?

Solas: Much like any other relationship, presumably. 

Blackwall: Most relationships don’t have one party towering over the other. 

Solas: Really? That is your concern?

Blackwall: Not a concern. Just curious, is all. 

Blackwall: I mean, it can’t be easy. It looks like she’d need to climb scaffolding for anything to line up properly.

[If Cole is in the party] 

Cole: She is precious, held wholly in the palm of my hands. Sweet, small like the frilly cakes she brings me from the kitchens. 

Cole: He likes how small she is. He thinks it’s cute.

Blackwall: Well wasn’t that just adorable.

[Otherwise]

Ellana: Oh is that a dragon I see overhead? No? Pity. I would have appreciated being eaten right about now.

Blackwall: I’m sure Solas would be happy to oblige, my Lady.

Ellana: [Groans] Kill me now.

[perseephoneee]

New years party with kate bishop!

new years (kate bishop x f!reader) {ficmas 2023}

꒰ ࿁ ˙ ˖ ໑ happy day 8 of ficmas!

a/n: I genuinely like this one, and if ANYONE knows me, then they know that kate bishop has been my hero since I read the comics in 2015. i hope this is okay for my wifey @mayfieldss

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ ficmas 2023

Since your first year of high school, you have been attending New Year's parties with Kate Bishop. They were always hosted by your classmate, Agatha Maloney, a bubbly girl with a penchant for party planning. The parties involved games, champagne stolen from her parents, and enough fairy lights to brighten a small city. You and Katie would show up, eat all the hors d’oeuvres (you hated the spicy chips that Kate would always consume), and perform a Bon Jovi duet. And every year, you would wait outside watching the snow fall in clumps across the city while Kate was inside kissing someone else at midnight. You used to think you were just jealous that she could find someone when you couldn’t, but now, you recognize it for what it was. You’re in love with your best friend and can never tell her. 

It was the last New Year's before you split for university. You weren’t sure if you’d have another New Year again; if you did, it wouldn’t be the same. Your classmates would have new friends and new stories. New inside jokes that you wouldn’t understand. You and Kate were attending different colleges. It's the same city, but different. Kate had a lot more money to afford a fancy university, and you were scraping by with tuition (that you were thankful for, don’t get it twisted). But even next year, what would you do when you didn’t share the same wavelength?

It didn’t stop the two of you from laughing as you bound up the doorsteps to Agatha’s. Kate wore a simple, long-sleeve black dress that ended at her knees and matching ankle boots that still made her look beautiful but rugged. You opted for a strapless jumpsuit. You and Kate had a weird apparel rule: if one person wore a dress, the other wore a jumpsuit. So that you always compliment the other person. 

“OMG, you guys came!” Agatha squealed as you approached the front door. Her blond hair was curled like a ‘20s flapper girl, her lips the color of bubblegum. She hugged both of you, almost suffocating you with her grip. “I’m so excited you came here for our last official hurrah. It’s not a party unless the dynamic duo is here.”

“You always know how to make us feel welcome,” you mumble, trying to dislodge yourself from her arms. Agatha was a sweet girl but very intense. And pushy. 

“You can let go now,” Kate choked, sending you a look of distress as Agatha officially detached herself. Kate sent you a look as you both followed Agatha into the house. Most of your classmates were experiencing the wonders of intoxication, and you appeared not to have missed a single critical moment. “Is it just me, or does she get crazier yearly?”

“She’s certifiable,” you chuckle, nudging Kate as you make a bee-line to the snacks. You shove your mouth full of pretzels and tomato cheese covered in balsamic vinegar. There’s a name for the snack, but you can’t remember and don’t care as you let the tastes overwhelm your tongue. As usual, Kate eats the hot Cheetos until her fingers are dyed red. She smiles at you over red Cheeto dust, and you think that even though she is messy, she looks beautiful. Instead of saying so, you just make fun of her. 

“Do you think that a cheetah has seen a Cheeto and thought, that’s cannibalism?” Kate asks you, eating more Cheetos. 

“I think you’re crazy,” you laugh, grabbing a plastic flute for the champagne and pouring you and Katie a glass. “A cheetah is more likely to wonder how it became a mascot wearing sunglasses.”

“Because it’s the cool thing to do, obviously,” Kate took the glass you handed her, taking a sip before excitedly motioning to the set-up karaoke machine. “Showtime!”

Every year, you debated what to perform. And you still ended up doing “Wanted Dead or Alive” by Bon Jovi every year. You needed to spice up your choices, but you two were old souls who got too impassioned with Bon Jovi. During the instrumental breaks, you guys would yell out how many measures were left and march across the stage. You even had experimental pop star names (“If Beyonce goes by Sasha Fierce on stage, why shouldn’t we?” said Kate). 

You finished your duet to a round of applause like always. And just as you finished, one of the attendees turned on the New York countdown so everyone could wait till the ball dropped and the new year was ushered in. You averted your eyes when you saw Stephanie from your chemistry class taking second glances at Kate. You ignored the feeling that gripped your heart when you saw Kate looking back. You thought this would be a good cue to step outside, like every year, and watch the snow fall as you ignored your heart breaking into pieces inside the house. 

The balcony was covered in a light layer of frost. Agatha’s home always had boughs of greenery wrapped around the terrace, with beautiful sparkling lights that reflected the city spread out before you. You wrapped your coat tighter around yourself, letting your breath fog in front of you. You huffed like a dragon and giggled to yourself. You liked seeing the tall buildings sprawled out in front of you, the little houses in front like a treeline to the secrets further back. The sounds of the ten-minute countdown could be heard from inside, but you let it become a dull sound in your ears. You were in blissful silence until you heard the balcony door close behind you. 

“Aren’t you freezing?” Katie asked, coming up right next to you. You look over, noticing she put on her coat and a beanie to fight the freeze. 

“It gets stuffy in there,” you turned back to the city, feeling the heat of Kate’s arm next to yours.

“I hear that; it’s like a sauna,” she chuckles. You sit in silence for a while. “Can I ask a question?” You gesture for Kate to continue. 

“Why do you come out here every year?”

You let the question hang in the air, unsure how to answer. How do you tell someone that you leave because you’re in love with them? Because watching them kiss someone else kills you? Because you want to grab and kiss them as firecrackers erupt in the air, just like they would in your heart? You opt to lie instead. 

“I don’t like watching people make out,” you awkwardly chuckle. “PDA is weird.” Kate gives you a look that tells you she doesn’t believe you. Your breath is shaky as you exhale. “Maybe there’s no one available worth kissing.”

You freeze up as Kate grabs your hand with her own, intertwining your fingers. Her hands are rough and calloused from all her physical activities, compared to your soft ones untouched by nature. 

“The person I would want to share my kiss with is never here,” Kate whispers. “She always goes outside and hides.”

Your heartbeat is heard in your ears to the point where you almost miss the countdown starting from inside. You make eye contact with Kate, her blue eyes wide as she looks at you. She seems as nervous as you are, making you feel better. The party attendees start to count down from ten. 

“Y/N,” Kate says, snow coating her hair in beautiful crystals. 

There are only five seconds left on the clock. When it hits one, you lean forward and kiss Kate, enjoying the gasp she lets out from surprise. Cheers are heard not just from inside but from the city, neighbors, and everywhere as people welcome the new year. Your hand cups her face, twisting in her black hair as she wraps her arms around your middle, pulling you close. You feel freezing and yet on fire as you kiss the love of your life on New Year’s Eve. A bad taste makes you pull away. 

“Did you eat hot Cheetos right before this?” you mumble, grimacing at the spiciness on your tongue. Kate laughs, a full-bodied laugh that is your favorite sound in the world. 

“I stress eat when I’m nervous.”

“It tastes disgusting.”

“Oh shut up,” Kate chuckles, kissing you again. And again. And again.

[kitweewoos]

Kinkley + Hollywood au (inspired by The Fall Guy)

Evan "Buck" Buckley: Stuntman Tommy Kinard: Stuntman Director

Evan Buckley, known to the industry mostly by his nickname "Buck" hasn't always wanted to be a stuntman. In fact, he bounces from job to job for a while after he left Pennsylvania in search of himself. He tries his hand at bartending, at ranching, construction, and he even tries out for the Navy SEALs. Nothing fits quite right, and when he drops out of his SEALs training, he finds two doors waiting for him. He can go to the academy to become a firefighter with the LAFD, or he can go into stunt work for movies. When he gets his first gig as a stuntman doubling for a small indie film, he knows he made the right choice.

Plus, he meets Tommy Kinard, the stunt coordinator for the indie film that kicks off his career and his reputation. He's a retired stuntman himself, taking a step back after a bad accident left him scarred and with a missing lobe of his lung, but Tommy is kind, and funny, and he makes sure that Buck is safe. When Tommy gets a project, he requests Buck. When Buck finds a project that he knows Tommy would love to be a part of, he finesses a spot for Tommy as coordinator. They're not together, not really, but there's something there.

"I got Gerrard to agree to let me work the camera for this next one," Tommy admits one afternoon while they're eating sandwiches on a break. "So, I won't be coordinating for you. But Hen Wilson is taking over, and she's the best there is." "You're the best there is," Buck tells him with a playful kick of his boot into Tommy's ankle. "But I know you want to direct someday, so I can let you go with one promise." "What's that?" "For your first big break, that movie that skyrockets your career, I want in." "As if you won't be there right alongside me."

And then, the worst happens. A stunt goes wrong, and Buck is caught underneath a firetruck against hard pavement, and his leg is crushed, his career absolutely ruined. He can't pretend that he's not in horrific pain this time, and when Tommy tries to be there for him, he simply recedes into himself. He can't possibly be the man that Tommy thought he was when he has to take pain pills every night and rub cream into his leg every morning just to function normally. He changes his phone number, and he finds a job at a bar, pretending like Buck the Stunt Guy never existed.

Until Hen calls.

Tommy's been given the chance to direct a new movie, and he's asked for Buck specifically. He swore off stunt work, but he could get back into it for Tommy Kinard. He could do anything for Tommy Kinard, to make him happy, to help him achieve his dream. He's on the next flight out to Australia, and meets Hen on set, who whisks him into his first stunt without letting him get used to being back, without getting a coffee, without even seeing Tommy.

He should've known then that something was up, but it isn't until Buck barrel rolls a car in sand and pops out with a thumbs up, that he sees Tommy, standing nearby with his hands on his hips in that beautiful, bitchy way that he always does. He wishes that things were different. He wishes that he had called Tommy back. He wishes that he hadn't hidden his head in the sand and refused to be a part of their whatever it was.

"Hey," his voice is small, and he's scared he'll say the wrong thing. "What is he doing here?" Tommy asks, not to him, looking over at Hen. "You said we needed the best. I got the best." "Get someone else," Tommy requests, and Buck deserves that. "Anyone else." "There isn't anyone else, and there isn't any time. We need Buck if we want this movie to work, and to be good. Right? You said it yourself; half the stunts only work if they're as good as Buck." "Fine, but he's your responsibility, Henrietta."

Tommy runs a scene over and over where Buck is blown back into a rock, and they have a fight on set in front of everyone, and at the end of the day, Buck meets Tommy in his trailer. Buck brings out the bottle of champagne he bought with Tommy the night before he started working the camera. He places it on the table in front of Tommy.

"I promised I would be here with you when you earned this, but I understand if that's changed. I forgot, I forgot that vulnerability isn't a weakness, and I know I should've been better. I just didn't want you to see me, you know, give up the way I was. I didn't want you to see me falling apart. I know that's not a good enough reason for what I put you through, for what I did to you. So, I'll go, if you want me to. I just wanted to make sure you had this, because from what I've seen of this movie already, I can tell it's going to be incredible. You deserve this." "I don't want you to go," Tommy says. "I can't go right into what we were before, but I want you here with me. Hen was right to call you, even though neither of us can ever tell her that. But, I want you here, Evan."

It takes a while for the trust to grow, but Buck wouldn't have it any other way, a steady, sure thing, rerooting and growing stronger in this new soil. When they're finally ready, at the wrap party, Tommy pops open the cork on the champagne, pours them both a glass, and they toast. Then, Tommy pulls Buck in and kisses him like they're at the end of a romance novel and they're about to ride off into the sunset together, where they can live happily ever after, and he might just be the stuntman, but he feels like the main character for once of his own story, and he feels like he's earned this happy ending.