#kc x reader

[lav-is-writing]

Howdy I'm back in the building again!

Saw that request were open and Idk if I've already sent this one in or not, but I was wondering if it was possible for you to write the following?

Ronin from Killer Chat with a very touchstarved reader. I think these two being so somewhat attached to each other like this would actually be really cute in a way.

I really adore your writing and I hope that you keep up the fabulous work and just know how much I appreciate everything you do for writing for all your fandoms. Thank you for reading friend!

🔍-anon

Keep Your Hand in Mine

pairing- Ronin x Touchstarved!Reader

warnings- Short :( I'm sorry

a/n- FEIUHF ANON ILY!! YOU'RE TOO SWEET <33

“More, darlin?”

You nodded, continuing to move closer to Ronin. He scoffed from his position on the couch, one hand pulling you closer to him while the other set down the TV remote. The two of you were in the middle of one of your horror movie marathons, but this time, you didn’t care so much about the movie as you did Ronin’s touch.

Since he started to date you, Ronin had learned about the thing you loved the most- touch. Yet, he didn’t pry, giving you what you needed without complaint. You had been caught off guard when he admitted something during one of your cuddle sessions- He loved physical touch. Whether a small peck on your cheek or a lingering touch on your hand, Ronin knew how much you craved it.

It was one of the things that made him love you so. 

Countless nights spent snuggling you as you slept, helping you fall into unconsciousness and relieving Ronin’s fears of you leaving him. No one could hurt you while he held you. He made sure of that.

In public, it was a bit more difficult. When a stranger brushed hands with you, you tensed, looking at Ronin for guidance. He would help you through it, apologizing for the stranger and making a note to find them if they were rude about it. Simple touches like that were enough to cause panic, and even Ronin wasn’t always spared from that. 

Hugs could make you wince, so Ronin would put his hands up as he approached, nodding at you as if to ask if you were okay with it. For the devil, he was surprisingly gentle with you, understanding your problems. 

And when the day came where you accepted touching without warning?

He's estatic.

Still a bit hesitant, Ronin asked you repeatably: "Are you sure, darlin'? Don't want you to feel pressured into this."

You always said yes.

“I’m here, don’t worry, darlin'. You don’t have to let go.”

Extra headcanons since this is short:

If you wanted to seek professional help with your problem, Ronin would be completely supportive of it. If it helped you feel better, he was quick to find the best person he could find.

Massages became a part of your daily routine, preformed by Ronin in order to help you relax. The second tension left your body, he was beaming silently, proud that he was able to help.

a/n- okay but he's just a little guy :3

[npookie0]

Hi there! Love your work for Killer Chat, I've adore the way you write all the LI's, I was wondering if it would be possible for you to write something with the LI's helping an autistic Reader through a minor panic attack via being overstimulated? (I Totally get it if your uncomfortable with writitng something like this.)

((PS: I got a bit Over-stimed yesterday from noises, but your fics really helped me refocused afterwards. So thank you.))

Also thank you for reading and for all the hard work that you do with all of these fics. I Hope That You Have A Wonderful Day/Night. 🔍- anon.

To Regain a Peace of Mind.

KC! li's x autistic overstimulated reader, fluff, comfort

Disclaimer! This fanfic is based off of my personal experiences and what I read online about panic attacks especially with autistic people, my friend who is diagnosed read this and said that she finds it pretty accurate.

Edit to my fanfic: I decided to replace the word "stimmy" with "stimulating". I didn't realise that it wasn't a popular thing (tho I did see similar forms on tik tok a lot of times and it's what made me think of the word stimmy) so I will change it for the sake of everyone's comfort 🫶 sorry to anyone who was uncomfortable by it ^^;

Cws: Possible spoilers for Killer Chat!

Ronin Beaufort

Ronin is not the type of person to ignore his lover when he sees that something is going on with them, so when he noticed how stopped replying but still were online it rubbed him the wrong way. You had moments like these, sure, your comfort show that was one of your special interest getting a new episode, going to cook your comfort food or just getting distracted, sometimes you just didn't reply and it's because you felt like he didn't want a reply with how his message sounded to you.

So, an obvious way to go was to: barge into your home. Would you hate it? Probably, it would destroy the peacefully made up mind set for the day or something like that. Did he care? Maybe a li'l, but he still wanted to check up what was the matter with you, usually a call would bring you back to him, disturb you from the new distraction and get you to talk about the thing he's heard many times already, but he just adores it when you talk.

"Y/n?" He called out, slowly walking through your house.

Your house was quiet, no sound inside, not even the humming of the fridge hearable, it's like everything in your house that could make any noise was unplugged.

Ronin's steps echoed through the house, loud against the wooden panelling, then quieting down on the fluffy carpets as he made his way to your room. He pushed the door open, scanned the room once he entered into the sacred space.

You were on your bed, sitting stiff and holding yourself by the chest, clutching your hand on your shirt as you tired to breathe. Your breathing was short and way too fast, you couldn't calm down.

You were over stimulated, the world was too loud, electricity, people, music, everything was way too loud. The noise was unboreable. You unplugged every single piece of equipment in your house that made any noise, then you didn't know how you got to your bed.

Ronin was quiet, he slowly made his way to your bed and sat at the edge of it, slowly making his way to you and stopping his movements when he noticed any movement from you. You looked at him, eyes wide, but you didn't stop him from coming closer. Soon he was sitting in front of you, his forehead nestling against yours.

"Hey, look at these." He whispered, gently taking your hands and letting you touch the hoops on his t-shits. "Aren't they stimulating, hm?" He chuckled softly and while your eyes were locked on the metal hoops he put his hands to your ears.

He looked at your eyes, you were calming down, hands occupied, breath calming down and noise blocked by his hands.

Maybe the devil can't stop the world from being loud, but he can protect his lover from its noise.

Valentin Viljoen

V was standing frozen in your living room, you were sitting on the couch, curled into a ball and trying to catch your breath. He never saw you in a state like this so his first reaction was surprise, but he was quick to regain his composure and get to action.

As quietly as possible, he made his way to the kitchen and prepared your favourite meal, the one that you could eat for weeks until you got tired of it and then would want to eat only that meal again, he used your comfort plate, the cutlery he knew that you felt most okay with and the glass you brought from your own house. He set it down on the coffee table in front of you and sat on the couch, leaving a little space between the two of you.

He needed to figure out what caused this panic attack for you, or at the very least help you calm down and the only way the could think of was by trying to stimulate you with the things that made you the most comfortable.

"My love, would you like to braid my hair?" He asked, tapping the back of your hand gently.

You nodded your head and watched as he moved to sit on the floor in front of you. With shaky hands you slowly started unbraiding his hair, brushing it with your fingers and focusing solely on creating some form of braids on his head again.

It was a form of stress reliever to you, just mindlessly braiding his beautiful hair and hearing his breathing. The world around you blocked away by the great focus. No noise, no work, no people, no work, just you and the strands of Valentin's hair that you so carefully put together into a semi-perfect looking braids.

"Do you want to tell me about your day?" He asked, his voice hushed down.

"No." You replied simply.

To most people your reply would sound rude, but to V it sounded perfectly normal, a simple and very direct answer.

"Then would you like to listen about my day?"

You paused in your movements. "... Yeah." Another short answer.

He smiled softly and started talking about his day, no extreme hunts that day, only a charity event for an animal shelter to gain funds.

While he spoke, you got finished with his hair. You took the plate and started eating the food, happy with the taste and texture being exactly like you like it, no new ingredients, no sudden surprises.

The stillness of your life with V was soothing for your mind, just like your wellbeing was soothing for the vigilante in between his hunts.

Maria de la Rosa

You two returned home from your date, you didn't even look at Angel you just went to the only place you would feel at peace in; the bed under your weighted blanket.

This date was so many things but comfortable, paparazzi all over the place, fleshes shooting at your eyes, microphones practically squeezing you, noise, fuck so much noise.

She was concerned, she could see how much this whole situation overwhelmed you. Angel slowly followed behind you to the bedroom, entering and taking your soundproof headphones from the desk in her room. She made her way to the bed and gently put the headphones on your head.

Silence was what you needed, silence and Angel's presence, not too close but not too far either. Maria lay down next to you, keeping some space in between the two of you. Your hands slowly peeked out from under the blanket and she watched as you moved it closer to hers. Your fingertips touching, a gentle smile to her lips.

You were stressed, overstimulated, you felt dizzy and not ready to talk or listen, but you enjoyed this small contact with Maria. She was your haven, like your comfort blanket, but instead of weighting you, she was just laying next to you not expecting you to speak or cling onto her.

You watched her, watched her chest raise and fall when she breathed, her hair falling on her face, causing you to want and move them away so they were in the right place.

Looking at your girlfriend was grounding, it was like a stimulation in its own way, just watching her as she simply shown signs of being alive. You calmed your breathing by copying her breathing pattern, slowly moving your hand further to finally hold her hand, or more so just keep your hand on hers. Touching wasn't easy, but sometimes the contact was helpful, especially if you knew that she wouldn't get disappointed if you moved your hand away.

She's like an angel, keeping your mind a heaven even if she has blood in the corners of her lips and a glint of insanity in her eye.

Misaki Katsuo

Ever since you returned home from the fan meeting you didn't say a word to Misaki, and it wouldn't worry them as much if it wasn't for them to find you in the corner of your bedroom, obviously panicked about something.

She froze, thinking about her next moves carefully. It wasn't the first time Misaki saw you in this state, they experiences your panic attacks a few times already, usually they looked really similar to the one you were going through right now.

After creating a plan in their head, Misaki walked up to you, squat in front of you and gently took your hands in theirs.

"Hey sugar honey dumpling, did you know that the wealthiest cat is named Blackie?" They asked.

You looked at them, titling your head to the side a little bit shaken by the sudden interaction. You didn't push her hands away, you were too focused on Misaki's question.

You shook your head, you didn't know that.

"Okay so! When this rich dude died he decided to fuck his family and give all his cash and everything to his cat in his will. Imagine being that cat." They chuckled.

"Oh my god! What if he's like the real life Aristocats?"

This idea intrigued you and made you a little more imaginative after Misaki mentioned one of the favourite cartoons from your childhood that you still watched.

"We should totally make a little story for Blackie, I draw him as an Aristocat and you write, hm?"

You nodded your head. "Okay... note it down for me later." You replied, your breath no longer shaky, it wasn't perfectly calm yet, but at least Misaki got your idea away form whatever you were going through well enough.

"I will!" They exclaimed. "Hey baby, do you need your real life weighed blanket?" Misaki asked, a mischievous smile on their lips.

You groaned. "No please, spare me."

"Ouch?! You said you loved me as a blanket." She pouted. "I'm kidding I'm not actually offended!" They cleared the air before you could feel like you actually hurt them.

You shook your head. "You're so stupid sometimes."

You finally intertwined your fingers with hers.

"So, do you want to talk about it?"

"It's just my fans being really loud and energetic, and I guess someone shouted into my ear to grab my attention."

"Oh, my poor baby." They wanted to hug you but stopped midway and instead just cupped their face with your hands.

Maybe their silliness can be the remedy to all your overstimulation.

Hi!!! I hope you liked it!!!

And I'm happy to hear that my writing helped you!

Have a good timezone lovelies, N <3

[beanwaterontherocks]

Night Breezes Seem to Whisper "I Love You" (V x Reader)

(Valentin Viljoen aka V)

Fandom: Killer Chat! Pairings: V x gn!reader Summary: V takes you to a charity gala, you can't believe he's actually your boyfriend! You still fluster deeply at any sweet words he says to you. Why not try your best to fluster him too? (Call your dentist because this is tooth-rotting fluff) Warnings: Jealousy, NSFW at the cutoff, Minors DNI after that point! Word count: 2564

V pushed open the room’s door and you had to stand for a second and take it all in.

The hotel suite was so big it might as well have been a luxury apartment. It was extremely spacious for two people, with a large L-shaped couch and mahogany coffee table that both looked as expensive as a month’s rent. An intricate archway led into the bedroom, which proudly displayed a king-size canopy bed with deep green velvet curtains and enough closet space to fit the stock of a small clothing store. 

“Holy shit…”, you mused under your breath, glancing over to catch V’s reflection in the bedroom mirror. He smiled softly, clearly very amused by your well justified reaction to your accommodations. You walked back into the living space and opened the door to what was likely the bathroom.

It had elegant cream-colored tiles and a large corner tub with what looked to be jacuzzi jets. “This might as well be a pool”, you said, gesturing to the pristine porcelain. V stepped closer and tentatively wrapped an arm around your waist, you leaned into the touch and enjoyed his calming scent of pine needles.

“Unfortunately, the room with the private indoor pool was already booked”, V stated as if he had actually planned to get you a private pool for your stay. Well, you knew him well enough to know that he definitely had. You leaned your head against his shoulder and laughed, not quite used to just how wealthy your boyfriend was. “The charity made the reservation for a standard room, though I thought that you would find the suite much more comfortable”, V admitted, looking down at you with fondness brimming from his forest-green eyes. 

You could actually explode right then and there, your heart feeling like an ember in your chest at his expression. V was too good at flustering you, even if he didn’t mean to make you short-circuit. You reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, moving to stand in front of him. He couldn’t be the only smooth one in the relationship, you made a living off of being good with words after all. 

“I love it, though I wouldn’t mind being in a smaller room if it meant I could be as close to you as possible”, you said, running your thumb affectionately over his cheek. V’s skin heated up and you could see his face adopt a deep, berry-red flush. You mentally high-fived yourself at your victory. V placed his hand over yours, his fingertips caressing your knuckles in a way that made a slight shiver travel up your spine. 

“Believe me, my love, I have absolutely no intention of being away from you during our time here, I hope to be the first thing you see in the morning and the last thing you see before you go to sleep at night”, he said, his other hand moving to rest on your waist again. 

You were pretty sure you could have died from overheating like an overwhelmed laptop.

You watched from the sofa as V finished getting ready by tying his braids into a ponytail, letting them drape across his shoulder and looking into the mirror on the wall. He adjusted the lapels on his dark green blazer that he wore over a sleek black turtleneck with his silver snake pendant.

He turned to look at you, his smile content as he offered his hand to you. Luck must have really been on your side for a man this gorgeous to have fallen for you. You took his hand and stood up. 

When V had informed you of the charity gala’s formal dress code you had admittedly stressed a little. You had searched your closet until it looked like a tornado had violently ripped through your room. Luckily, you managed to find a loose-fitting two piece suit in a color that you liked. V’s gaze lingered on you and you watched that same tenderness fill his eyes as he took in the sight of you. 

“You look wonderful, I’m beginning to wish that I could take you somewhere more private tonight” , V spoke, though he glanced down bashfully at that last confession. “Forgive me, of course your beauty must be shared with the world, I’m being selfish”, he said quietly, as though he was ashamed. You smiled and pulled him closer by his hand, pressed against his chest you tilted your head upwards to speak directly into his ear. 

“No matter how grand a hall the gala is being held in, I’ll only be looking at you tonight, there’s no reason to look at a crystal chandelier…when I can stare into two moonlit treetops”, you said, a lot less smooth than you had practiced it in the shower. 

You were successful though and V’s reaction was more than you could have ever asked for. His dark skin was flushed that deep red and you could even see it begin to creep up his neck. He momentarily took his hand out of yours to pull at the collar of his turtleneck. 

“My love, I never expected you to be the death of me, but it’s such sweet torture”. 

You held onto V’s arm as you both entered the gala, though the hotel was grand, the party itself was more subdued. It was nothing like the overly opulent charity balls in movies, elegant decorations were swapped out for banners displaying the animal conservation efforts of the organization. Even with that fact, everyone around you seemed so incredibly refined, with sparkling jewelry and obvious designer clothing.

You picked at a button on the suit you’d gotten on sale. V led you to a round table dressed with a white tablecloth and flowers, he pulled out the chair for you and sat down beside you. The other seated guests greeted him enthusiastically, he was one of the biggest supporters of charity not to mention renowned for his generosity.

The words he said were polite, yet he kept them as brief as possible. No matter what, his gaze would always find its way back to you, his eyes filled with warmth and longing, as though you were the only two people at this immense party. His hand searched for yours under the table and your fingers intertwined, digits fitting together perfectly like they were made to hold each other. Every time he reassuringly ran his thumb over yours your stress and worries would melt away, moving to heat up your heart instead. 

Despite his best efforts, V could only talk to you about the charity and his work with it for so long before he was interrupted by people who wanted a lengthier conversation. He shot you an apologetic look. You smiled at him and told him that you were to get the two of you a drink from the bar.

You walked across the floor to the polished wooden bar, standing next to an occupied barstool. 

“Two champagne cocktails please”, you said to the bartender as you leaned against the counter. The person on the stool next to you turned, it was a man in a tailored suit sipping a whiskey. He smiled at you and you didn’t miss the way his eyes slowly traveled from your hair to your feet and back up. You cringed internally and turned your head and hoped that he wouldn’t start talking to you. 

“Let me get that for you”, he said, pulling out his wallet and very deliberately flashing his shining silver credit card. How your luck had turned around. 

“I think it’s an open bar, there’s no need”, you said, mustering up a polite smile. Shouldn’t he have known that already since he had a drink. He tapped his finger against his glass, his gaudy diamond ring clinked against it. 

“Oh right, I keep forgetting they can afford that”, he said, getting up from his seat to stand next to you. You had to fight back the urge to scoff at his words. “Though their whiskey selection is seriously lacking, at my company’s party here we had-” he was cut off by the bartender placing down your drinks. You grabbed the champagne flutes and turned on your heel, preparing to leave to save your ears from this guy’s droning…really bad flirting? 

“This is a charity, a majority of their funds go to actually doing some good in the world”, you let yourself sneer and you took a step. 

You didn’t make it far before you felt a tug at the hem of your blazer, having to steady your hands to keep the drinks from spilling. 

“I’m sorry, we got off on the wrong foot, would you stay and talk?”, he said, it was phrased like a question, but his strained smile revealed that to him there wasn’t a choice. You were about to make a beeline for your table before you heard footsteps at your side and felt a familiar, gentle and comforting arm around your waist.

“Love, my apologies for making you wait”, V said gently, taking one of the drinks from you and pulling you closer to him “would you accept the rest of my night as an apology?”. You were about to say something about getting the ‘rest of his life’, before you noticed the way he glared at the man in front of you.

The look in those eyes you loved had turned cold, like the trees of the forest freezing over in winter. “If you would have us excused, my partner and I must get going now”. He didn’t let you or himself spare the man another look as he walked you back towards the table. You glanced up at him and, as soon as his eyes met yours, his gaze softened and you smiled. Your chest bloomed with joy as the two of you sat next to each other. 

“That guy sure was persistent but you were really cool back there”, you said, sipping your drink and leaning your head against his shoulder. V wrapped an arm around your shoulders, somehow the two of you got even closer.

“No one will bother you like that again, that I can assure you”, he said and you laughed before turning your head and placing a butterfly kiss on his cheek, making him exhale with a chuckle. 

For the rest of the night the two of you sat so close that you could have sat on his lap if you moved a bit. The thought of that made your face heat up. On occasion, you would see that same icy look flash in V’s gaze as he stared at something behind you. He held your hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a tender kiss over your knuckles. You calmed yourself, not wanting to cause a scene by your heart combusting. 

“Bringing out the prince charming moves? I need to catch up”, you said teasingly, tilting your head up to lightly press your lips to his jaw, enjoying the color that blossomed on his face. That deep red was quickly becoming one of your favorite hues.

V glanced around, no one seemed to want to approach him. He likely had greeted most of the guests by now. V turned to you, his hand squeezing yours as he smiled, not an ounce of fatigue in his expression. Your boyfriend leaned in, his voice like lavender honey and his words even sweeter as he whispered to you: 

“Shall we return to our room early?”

(NSFW starts here! If you are a minor please leave!) 

The hotel room door had barely closed before you pulled V down and finally pressed your lips to his. You felt his hand on the small of your back as he returned your kiss with matching eagerness. His lips tasted like bubbling bright champagne and something that you had never been able to place.

Like walking in the woods on a sunny spring afternoon, the tantalizing smell of brewing coffee and a songbird’s joyful melody. So utterly him, so utterly Valentin Viljoen. The man who was so charming it made you dizzy, yet so preciously bashful at the same time. You moved your hands to slide him out of his blazer, letting it hit the floor. 

You felt the plush mattress hit your back as you had somehow made it to the bed without ever breaking apart. When you finally did (curse your lungs’ need for air), V moved to kneel between your legs, his hands resting on your thighs. 

“I’m…ashamed of my behavior earlier, even after that incident I began to notice how so many others looked at you with those same eyes”, he admitted quietly. “I desperately wanted them to know that you were with me, I realize that I was being far too selfish”. You sat up, taking in his guilty expression. With a quick movement, you pulled him by his turtleneck and kissed him and ran your fingers across the nape of his neck. When you pulled away, you could see the mix of confusion and affection on his face in the dim light.

“V, you deserve to be selfish sometimes and plus, I’m already all yours”, you spoke as you played with the hem of his shirt “I want you, even more than you want me”. 

V was silent for a moment before he lowered his head to your collarbone. 

“What a bold statement, my love, are you willing to test that?” He whispered against the skin of your neck before placing a kiss to your wildly beating pulse. 

His hands were gentle and attentive, making you gasp into the night. Hands that you knew had ended so many lives with quick, precise cuts. Those same hands worked magic between your thighs, his fingertips running over you, pressing into all the right places. You sighed heavily as his touches deepend and his eyes never left your face. 

“Valentin…more”, you managed to get out betweens shaky pants and pleased hums. V’s eyes widened slightly at your use of his full name, but his expression melted into a loving smile as he obliged your pleas. He leaned down, his dark brown braids having come loose from his ponytail and framing his face. You raised your head to catch his lips in a searing, syrupy sweet kiss. The knot of pleasure tightened in your stomach, threatening to come undone at any second.

“You look so beautiful” V said breathily as his skilled fingers pressed on “I’ve been longing for you all throughout the night”. His voice brimmed with sincerity as pure as spring water. A particular curl of his digits had you seeing sparks and stars as you wrapped your legs tightly around his waist.

V pressed butterfly kisses to your cheeks as you bathed in the heated afterglow. You laughed and raised a hand to rest on the back of his head, how did you get so lucky? The room filled with a comfortable silence as the two of you rested in each other’s embrace. 

“Ready for your turn?” You asked after a few minutes, looking at him with a teasing smile. You sat up and gently nudged him onto his back ,swinging a leg over his hips, straddling him. V’s eyes glimmered with tenderness as the next thing he said made your blood rush like a powerful river.

“I don’t intend to be finished with you before the break of daylight”. 

You wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[ribbonsssence]

angel dating headcanons ──── ୨୧ ────

notes ﹒ just wanted to do this as a warm-up cause I've never written headcanons yet, ermm, might do a ronin one next!!! since I haven't even written for any of the main/side casts of KC other than angel literally.. pls request me,,,,

content includes ﹒ angel x reader ; established relationship ; fluff ; minor arguments

✦ Ever since your established relationship with Angel, you frequent to her house or vice-versa (but it's often the former). She gives you gentle encouragement offline and online; she likes the gestures and answers you reply, it makes her feel reassured of your current demeanor. ✦ Angel's a model and has a channel, so technically: she gets paid — a lot. Although, she knows your type of gifts and only buys those that she knows you will appreciate very much. Considering her busyness, her time with you often becomes underwhelming which results in her insecurity and regret for not being able to spend time with you. Hence, she'll sometimes buy you an apology gift, and a side recovering your quality time with her. ✦ Angel likes to use pet names, she doesn't overdo the usage, but she has a couple of pet names she uses for you; she prefers calling you the sweet types being "my love," "babe," and would even call you pet names in Spanish such as "mi rey" and "corazón." Just in the courtesy of her loving affection towards you.

✦ Angel prefers private dates, not that she is opposed to having a date in public, it's just that she's well too known and recognized in public sadly. Additionally, simple dates are already the best for her. Watching a movie at either your homes is already enough for her. ✦ Your first date with Angel was a picnic at a secluded spot near her house, it was midnight and the stars shone brighter than ever. You were quite glad, this date was your idea in the first place, and Angel was loving it. The iridescent moonlight embraced the gleaming radiance of the stars, it was tinted with a blue to purple hue with bright streaks, clear in the moonless vast sky. In the end, you and Angel enjoyed the beauty and peace of the starry night sky while the both of you chattered about trivial matters.

✦ Angel's love language is quality time and acts of service (said by the rosesrot!). As the ever-busy Maria de la Rosa, she yearns for the moments she could spend with you. When her mind isn't preoccupied, it drifts to thoughts of you — imagining your touch, the warmth of your presence, and the comfort of simply being together. ✦ In regards to her acts of service, she will always give. Oh! Some man is pestering you? Consider him done dead in a ditch! That being said, she's never been into the receiving when it comes to the acts of service since no one has really done that for her but it actually does make her contented.

✦ Arguments with Angel don't frequently happen, but it's usually about Angel's busyness or health in general. The arguments never last or worsen more. In the end, Angel can never get mad at you, nor can you at her. You will always be her safe haven and she will always be your safe haven too. ✦ The worst argument that occurred between you and Angel ended abruptly and took a day of silence from Angel to ponder about her feelings and thoughts, just to apologize and cry out her true feelings in your warm embrace. The both of you have an emotional evening (mostly for Angel) for the rest of the day.

✦ Angel's support for you never wavers. It doesn't matter if you're not a serial killer like her, she'll be the one to kill for you anyway. She'd devour every moment of between you and her, your existence consumes her heart as a whole.

[tsbs-shipfessions]

me x KC

My otp if you will

A wonderful OTP indeed.

[tavernlords]

Like Old Times, Your Majesty (A King's Choice Kerwin x Neu!Reader Oneshot) || Angst/Comfort

"Your Majesty... What are you doing...? It's pitch black out here."

"Kerwin-!" In the darkness, all you can see is a silhouette of a tall man with a dim candle in the distance. It's hard to make out, but you know it's him. You could never mistake that velvety voice.

As he walks up, he plops down beside you on the grass with a soft grunt and sighs. He takes in the fresh midnight air and the gentle breeze. You stare at him as he rearranges himself into a comfy position and snuffs out his candle before putting it on the grass. While he is outstretched and enjoying the night, you are tiny with legs tucked and face squished to your knees. You wonder how he does it. How he seems to become one with the world as he lays. You wish you could do that.

He takes a deep breath. "So, what's on your mind? You don't usually stay out this late." You turn away from him, a heavy guilt in your chest for forgetting to change your demeanor. You don't want him to see you like this. You have to stay strong for him. After all, with the death of his father, he must be going through a lot. You can't burden him with the weight of the ever-growing boulder on your back. He must be sick of it as it is. "Nothing... just uhm..." But the crack in your throat gives you away. You pretend it didn't happen. "Talbot..." He knows you're lying he knows you're lying he knows you're lying. "He dropped a vase."

"Oh, yea. I heard that. It got me up, too..." He pauses for a second. "Did that startle you?" You nod, tears in your eyes threatening to let loose. He puts a hand on your back in an attempt to console you. It works a little too well, and you feel yourself sob a little without your consent; his presence is like a warm hearth to you right now. Just him being there with you makes you feel a little more protected. You hate being alone. You're afraid someone might attack you if you are. It's a heavy burden to bare, but you'd never admit that.

The thin veneer of stoicism blows away in the wind, and you hear your sobs get louder and louder. You hug your knees firmly, planting your face into the crevice between your thighs, and let go. You know if you looked at him right now, you'd instantly crumble. But it seems that you aren't doing a very good job at keeping yourself from doing so. It's simply all too much.

He quickly pushes toward you to hold you in his arms. As time goes forward and your sobbing turns into frantic gasps of air, he hugs you tighter. There was always something different about Kerwin hugs. They were like the coziness of your blanket when you first wake up every morning, the fuzzy feeling of a beer after 5 longs years of fighting a relentless war, or the laughs you had as a kid when you had no idea the world was so cruel. They made you feel innocent and light. Like you were just a commoner with no kingdom to rule and only a home to take care of.

After a good, long moment, when you can finally feel yourself breathe again, you let go and apologize. You tell him you really don't mean to burden him and that it's okay if he thinks you're a weak ruler now. You didn't mean to make him feel sorry for you. He just hugs you again. But then he light pushes you away from him, and grabs your shoulders.

"Y/N. You're not a ruler to me. You're so much more than that!" He looks down, empathy heavy in his heart. "I know it's hard for you... but you don't have to put up that act around me. We've known each other for, what, 10, 15 years now? I'll always be here for you. I never plan on leaving." Then he gently gazes into your eyes, worry coating his face like fresh waves darkening light sand. You feel your heart racing, and your eyes well up again. He takes notice, discreetly looking down and then peering up again, this time with a kinder and lighter expression. Softening his grip, he traces his hands down your arms to hold your hands. You know his skin is scarred and calloused from countless battles, but they feel soft to you. He makes sure you feel that softness.

You manage a faint smile in response and a tiny grief-stricken chuckle. He smiles a little more at this, happy to make you happy at least for a second. You stay like this for a nice minute. The air clears with time.

"It isn't just Talbot, is it?" You look away again. "No..." You murmur.

"Do you want to talk about it?" His voice is low and unintrusive.

You pause, breathe in, and try your hardest not to cry again.

"Its just... I'm scared." You look up at him, lips quivering. "I'm scared I'm going to..." Your body chokes on a sob, and you try to recuperate, "lose everyone. I'm scared that, in the end, it's just gonna be me in my giant castle with my guards and servants and I'll just..." Sniffling, you squeeze a tear down your cheek "...Be alone. I'm afraid I'll be walking with you down the path to a nearby kingdom and you'll just- you get stabbed or shot or anything! I couldn't-"

Kerwin clenches your hands, and fold his fingers into yours. Letting your heart settle before continuing, you utter "I couldn't live with myself if I ever let that happen, knowing it could. I don't think... I could ever live without you by my side. Or Greg. Or Talbot. Or Lance. Or-" You curl into him as you can no longer help yourself from bawling. To know he's here and alive gives you so much comfort. You never want this to end. You never want to stop feeling his unbuttoned nightgown against the side of your face or his hands cupping your back. You wish he was immortal. If somehow, by your power as a lord, you could make him invincible. But you can't.

Planting his face in your hair, Kerwin whispers something to you. "Hey... do you remember..." He's holding you entirely in his arms and supporting you with his chest. Almost like he's shrouding you in light or draping a sheet over you. "That time we were outside the city walls, in that great big field near Agatha's wheat farm?" "Hm?"

"I was 11. You were 12. The world was so big and all we wanted to do was to explore it. But then, I got lost in those huge stocks of wheat. You were calling out my name, wondering where I was. I laughed and laughed and laughed while you tried to find me." You giggle at the memory. "...Then you heard this growling from out of nowhere! You panicked and started running trying to find me while I was still laughing. And suddenly - I got bit by something hard! When you finally found me, I was wailing like a baby."

He laughs a little, a burning in his heart with fondness of the past.

"You took me back to your castle, and Allie fixed me right up! I was good as new, but you were still worried. You made me pinky promise you that wherever I go, you had to be with me no matter what."

You smile, now a little tired from all the energy you spent crying. You feel safe in his embrace. "I remember it like yesterday." You let out a tiny chuckle. You can never forget the face he made as you picked him up and forced him onto a piggyback ride. You wish it was summer as kids again. The golden spray of light that peeked behind sheaves of yellow grass. The beautiful pink glow of Kerwin's hair under the sun. The story calmed you down. Your breathing is at steady pace again.

"Well, I never forgot it... Y/N, I trust that whatever comes you'll always have my back. At the same time, I'll always have yours. Things will happen as they happen, and we can never truly prepare for the future. I'm constantly afraid I'm going to lose you. But i wake up the next morning, and you're still there. You're alive and breathing, and still that strong and beautiful lord I've always known." You snuggle in closer to his chest and feel his heartbeat. It's unusually fast, but you take comfort in it. You moan lightly, at ease, sleepy and secure. His heartbeat rises.

He pauses for a long time, and you feel his body get warmer. It's serene and cozy. Just as you're about to fall asleep, he says "Uh... Actually... Y/N... I've been meaning to tell you something for...." He laughs to take off his own tension "about millennia now..." You moan again sleepily, as a confirmation for him to go on with what he wants to tell you. "Do you think... You'd want to stay like this? I mean- Ah, what I'm trying to say is- I think I might..." He takes a breath. "Want to be with you. For ever. Or as long as possible, if that's okay?"

That wakes you up, and you gasp, bumping the top of your head on his chin and nose as you launch up in surprise. He yelps. As you feel adrenaline rush through your veins, your cup your mouth in shock for what you'd done. Kerwin covers his nose and winches in pain. "Oh, my god, Kerwin! I'm so sorry!" He laughs and smiles, "Haha, no! It's fine, really. Augh..."

With tears in his eyes, he looks up at you through strawberry hair, hovering his hands above slightly bloody nostrils. You grab his face and squish it into yours, absorbing all his pain and tasting the metal from his nosebleed. It definitely it's not the most sanctimonious kiss in the world, but goddamn it, it's yours. It's finally yours. In between gasps for air, you chuckle in relief. Finally.

Kerwin sobs for a brief second between kisses and stops, holding you forehead to forehead. Droplets hit your legs, and when you open your eyes you see him crying. "Kerwin-"

"I'm-" He takes a breath "I'm okay, Your Majesty, I just-" He sniffles "I've been waiting so long for this..." He lets out a relieved giggle.

You kiss him again.

[sematarygirls]

Okay but he’d fuck you so hard when they lose the Super Bowl after you spends an hour gloating about the eagles handing their asses to them!

i saw this request and started giggling and kicking my feet omg. anon, i owe you my first born child. you are a GENIUS! (although, fair warning, i'm not great at writing smut. i hope this is okay <3) not proofread

cw: unprotected p in v, rough sex, mean rafe, slapping, degradation

Football tended to be a touchy subject between you and Rafe. Where you were a diehard Eagles fan, he wouldn't be caught dead rooting for them. After the Chiefs narrowly beat out the Eagles in the 2023 Super Bowl, Rafe wouldn't shut up for weeks about how "trash" the Eagles were. It drove you absolutely insane.

That's why, when the Eagles absolutely kicked ass this Super Bowl in a rematch against the Chiefs, beating them out at a whopping 40-22, you thought it was your well-deserved right to rub it in Rafe's face, much to his dismay.

One thing about Rafe is that gloating is only okay when he does it—much like a lot of other things (he's a very hypocritical guy), hence his growing anger when you wouldn't stop talking about how the Chiefs absolutely threw the game with all their fumbles, making jokes the whole time about how it seemed like they weren't even playing.

Another thing about Rafe? He tended to get violent when he was angry. With other people, this meant he'd kick their asses, but with you, it meant you were in for a long night of rough fucking to make him feel better and put you in your place for your "bratty attitude."

Though, if you tried to point out the hypocrisy with him finding your actions annoying when he had done the exact same two years prior, he would only get more annoyed and very, very defensive.

You'd learned at a very early stage in your relationship that some battles were not worth fighting with Rafe, and besides, you kind of liked it when he was all rough with you, manhandling and degrading you deliciously.

"Not so mouthy now, huh?" He taunted, pounding into you from behind. Each thrust pushed you forward a little bit, your face burying further into the pillows as you moaned. A sharp slap to your ass had you gasping, the pain sending a jolt of pleasure to your core that had you practically gushing around Rafe's thick length. You didn't know how long you'd been going at this with him, but he hadn't let you cum, nor had he let up the brutal pace.

"Look at you," he sneered. "Can't even think of anything to say back to me, huh? Thought you were gonna gloat all night about how the Eagles won." His words were cruel and biting, revealing the depth of his anger, which wasn't about the football game. It was more so about being challenged, his ego hurt after talking such a big game about how the Chiefs were going to dominate.

You couldn't form a coherent sentence. Your brain turned to mush as the only thing you could focus on were his rough hands on you and his length stretching your velvety walls. You could practically feel each ridge and vein of his cock as it slid back and forth, his tip nudging your cervix roughly with each pass.

"What happened to that smart mouth, huh?" He mocked. "Your dumb little brain's too desperate for cock, huh, bunny," he cooed, his tone patronizing as he continued to pound into you with rough strokes, making your back arch and eyes roll back.

He was so mean, but you loved it.

He was right. You couldn't respond to him anymore. You had lost your ability to form a single word, dumbed down to a mess of please sounds as he hit that sweet spot inside of you so perfectly. He took that as a victory, seeing it as proof that you knew your place. He loved it when you whimpered underneath him, completely at his mercy. "Look who's behaving now. You're lucky you're so pretty, honey," he continued, enjoying this little game of his. "Otherwise, I wouldn't put up with such a bratty mouth."

"Fuuuuuck," he groaned, giving your ass another sharp smack before his hands found your hips again, his grip bordering on painful. "And this fuckin' love this pussy. Fuckin' perfect, baby."

He was getting close. You could tell by the way his pace started to falter, and his words switched from degrading to praising. One hand slipped down to your clit, rubbing firm circles. Even when he was pissed, he still tried to make you cum first.

It didn't take much more effort on his part. Your thighs were already trembling, desperate for release from the moment he'd thrown you onto the bed and ripped your clothes off.

"You're gonna be a good girl now, huh? You're gonna stop being such a pain in the ass, aren't you?" He questioned, punctuating each question with a thrust. "No more running your mouth and riling me up, right?"

"Uh huh," you whined pathetically, needy and desperate to cum.

He knew he had you right where he wanted you, all pliant and begging. "Yeah, you gonna stop talking back, huh? You can be a good little bunny for me, can't you?" He cooed, his words sounding a little bit less harsh. He was enjoying having you like this, completely at his mercy.

All you could muster was a weak nod, your fingers gripping the sheets and mouth parted in ecstacy as you reached your peak, blinding pleasure overtaking your body as your walls clamped down around his cock.

"That's it, baby, just like that," he groaned, pumping a few more times before pushing deep inside you and releasing spurts of hot, sticky cum into your eager cunt.

[vandme12]

Could I please request Ronin with a reader who got a stalker after their book got popular? They don’t really see the stalker as a threat, they’ve dealt with the devil after all.

But what if he gets a little too close and it forces Ronin to do something about it, but the reader beat him to it?

Have a great day!

Your first mistake was underestimating the appeal of a killer.

The book—your book—was never supposed to blow up like this. A bloody, intimate little crime novel, loosely inspired by the slasher-flavored chaos you’d somehow made a life out of. It was supposed to be niche, a cult hit at best. But now? Every other day, there’s a new notification about someone thirsting after your fictional killer. Reviews drool over his sadism, his devil-may-care attitude, the way he breaks his victims like it’s a love language.

They have no idea he’s real. That he kisses you with the same mouth he uses to threaten lives.

Ronin thinks it’s hilarious.

“‘The Devil’s Butcher could get it, tbh,’” he reads aloud one night, cackling over a tweet on your phone. “Aw, sweetheart—why didn’t ya tell me I had fans? Coulda started a damn fan club. Goreboy Nation. Merch n’ everythin’.”

You roll your eyes, shoving his face away from your screen. “You’re already insufferable. If you start selling t-shirts, I’m out.”

Ronin just hums, teeth grazing your neck—playful. Sharp. “Nah, ya ain’t goin’ anywhere, darlin’. Face it: ‘m the only devil who’s gonna put up with ya.”

You let him think that. Let him croon against your skin like the world itself belongs to him—like you belong to him. (He isn’t wrong.)

But the thing is, while the fans are fun and the money’s nice, you know better than anyone that obsession isn’t cute.

So when you first notice the messages—subtle at first, just a little too knowing—you don’t think much of it. You’ve been stalked before. Hell, your boyfriend is a stalker if you squint a little. What’s one more weirdo with boundary issues?

But then your inbox gets weird.

The stalker doesn’t ask normal fan questions. They pick apart the details—the parts you shouldn’t know, shouldn’t be able to write about. Things only Ronin would recognize. Things you shouldn’t have access to.

They know too much.

“You think it’s a cop?” you ask one night, lounging on Ronin’s ratty couch while he sharpens one of his knives.

He snorts. “Please. If the cops were that competent, I’d be in cuffs already.” He tilts his head, glancing at you through dark lashes. “You worried, baby?”

Worried? Not exactly. Not when your boyfriend has a body count higher than his IQ.

You shrug. “I can handle it.”

Ronin grins, wolfish and bright. “I know ya can.”

The first time you mention the stalker, Ronin laughs.

You do get it now..

"Aw, c’mon, darling," he drawls over the phone, voice honey-sweet with a razor’s edge. "You’re tellin’ me some pencil-idiot creep thinks they can rattle you? After all we’ve been through? Cute."

He’s not worried—why would he be? You’ve survived him, after all.

To Ronin, there’s no comparison. Some obsessive fan sending you weird, clingy emails and waiting outside your apartment doesn’t rank high on his list of threats. Not when you’ve faced worse and walked away with your heart still beating—his, too, if he’s feeling sentimental.

You’re not worried either. Not really.

You’ve danced with the devil and kissed him in an alley soaked with blood. Some guy with a parasocial complex doesn’t exactly make your skin crawl—not in the way it should. But it’s annoying. Persistent. And starting to piss you off.

At first, it’s small things. A note on your windshield after a signing. Flowers sent to your P.O. box with no return address. Emails signed Your biggest fan that come in the dozens—rambling, incoherent praise. Nothing that feels threatening, not really. Just… there.

You don’t mention it again for weeks. Ronin’s busy, anyway. Uptown’s been keeping him occupied—more bodies in Purgatory, more sinners to crucify. You don’t blame him for being distracted. If anything, you like that he’s got bloodier things on his mind.

Still, when he catches you laughing over a particularly unhinged email, he makes a sound low in his throat. Dangerous. Interested.

"That your little stalker again?"

"Yeah," you say, spinning lazily in your office chair. "Dude thinks we’re soulmates or something. Poor guy has no clue what he’s up against."

"Mm." A pause. His voice dips, velvet-soft. "They better not touch you, baby."

You smile, tilting your head. "What, you gonna rip their heart out for me?"

Ronin chuckles, low and indulgent. "Only if ya let me."

The first time the stalker crosses the line, it’s almost funny. Almost.

You find the package outside your door one night���a plain cardboard box, taped neatly shut. For a second, you think it’s something you ordered. But there’s no address. No label.

Inside is a photograph.

It’s you.

You, sitting at your favorite café last week—head down, lost in thought, writing notes for your next novel. Taken through a window, your face blurred slightly by the glass. Beneath the photo, there’s a single line of text.

"You’re even prettier in person."

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, tossing it on the counter.

Ronin doesn’t find it funny.

"You didn’t tell me they were that close," he says when you send him a picture.

"It’s fine," you reply. "They’re harmless. Just desperate."

"Yeah? Let’s see how harmless they are when I wrap my hands ‘round their throat."

His protectiveness is hot—obviously—but you don’t want to wind him up too much. This isn’t his mess to clean. Not yet.

Besides. You can handle yourself.

The next time, they get bolder.

A text pings your phone at 2:47 AM. No number. No name.

I saw you tonight.

You glance toward your window. It’s locked—has been since Ronin waltzed into your life and made paranoia a love language. Still, your skin prickles.

"Still harmless, darling?" Ronin asks the next morning.

You know what he wants—to unleash that wicked temper, to make a statement in blood. It’s sweet, in its own fucked-up way. But you tell him the same thing as always.

"I’ve got it under control."

He hums. Doesn’t argue. But there’s something sharper in his silence.

It escalates three days later.

You’re walking home from a late-night grocery run—plastic bags heavy with cup noodles and the cheap, trashy snacks you practically live on. The city hums around you, neon lights flickering in and out of focus.

And then you feel it.

That creeping sensation of eyes on your back.

You don’t panic. Panic is for people who haven’t kissed a serial killer and walked away grinning. You duck into a side street instead, cutting through a back alley to lose them.

Footsteps follow.

A thrill rolls through your stomach—part fear, part excitement. If this idiot thinks you’re an easy target, they’ve got another thing coming.

"Y’know," you say casually, turning on your heel, "if you wanted an autograph, you could’ve just—"

They lunge.

Wrong move.

Your elbow slams into their ribs before they can touch you. The plastic bags hit the ground, scattering instant ramen everywhere. You twist, slamming your knee into their gut next—hard enough to make them stumble.

The guy isn’t much—skinny, twitchy, desperate. He gasps, scrambling back as you advance, heart hammering with adrenaline.

"You’ve been watching me for weeks," you murmur, stepping closer. "Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?"

He doesn’t answer. Just wheezes.

Pity. You were hoping for more of a fight.

Ronin shows up at your apartment less than an hour later, eyes bright with anticipation.

"Where’s my new friend?" he drawls, cracking his knuckles.

You tilt your head toward the bathroom. "Tied up. Not much fun, though."

His grin sharpens. "Fuckin’ knew ya had it in ya, baby."

When he sees the guy—slumped against your shower wall, wrists bound tight—Ronin practically purrs. He crouches low, brushing a blood-specked thumb across the stalker’s cheek, and laughs.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmurs, eyes flicking to you. "Ya really are somethin’ else."

"You’re disappointed I didn’t let you have him first," you tease.

Ronin leans back on his heels, gaze lingering on your face like you’re his favorite kind of crime scene. "Ain’t disappointed. Proud of ya."

It’s the truth—you can feel it in the heat of his stare, the way his smile curves sharper. He’s proud. Because you didn’t need him to save you. Because you’re just as much a monster as he is.

And God, if that doesn’t make him love you more.

By the time Ronin’s finished with the guy, there isn’t much left. Nothing that’ll be missed.

"Y’know," he muses later, lounging on your bed with his bloodied hands behind his head, "if anyone else so much as looks at ya funny, I’m takin’ their eyes as a souvenir."

You roll your eyes, crawling onto the mattress beside him. "Possessive much?"

His smile widens—feral and unrepentant. "Always. Ya like it, don’t lie."

And maybe you do.

Because the devil doesn’t share.

And neither do you.

[spiderlilywritings]

Ronin Beaufort Boyfriend Headcanons

Trigger Warnings: mentions of blood, murder, gore

Well. You're in for a wild ride with Ronin Beaufort as your lover. He's not a green flag by any means, but he cares and genuinely loves you, even if he shows it in twisted ways sometimes. (Hearts drawn in blood, maybe giving you an aorta, sending pictures of his gruesome murders in #killer_shit with the caption "this for You, baby" and oh would you look at that, it's the guy that's been harassing you yesterday—)

Never runs out of nicknames for you. Will probably come up with the cheesiest/sappiest nickname just to see your reaction. It cracks him up. ("Baby. Sweetheart. Darling. Pookie. Sweet apple crumble pop with strawberries—")

If you own a vehicle like a car or a motorcycle, he's your go-to mechanic. He'll take your money and maybe a little bit extra later. ("Aww, don't give me that look, darlin'. I just wanted a kiss 's all. Hahaha!") Shows off a little bit of that muscle if you hang around while he's working. His sweetheart's there, gotta impress them right? (And if you're the type to get embarassed easily, it's more fun for him.)

Speaking of vehicles, I'm not sure if Ronin owns one, but if you do, why not take your little Devil for a late night drive? I think he'll enjoy them. Just you and him, enjoying the night air, letting the scenery pass by.

We've already seen it in the games; he's perceptive and if there's something troubling you, he'll know. He's all ears if you wanna talk about it. Or if you don't, he might think of a way to get you to open up. It's not healthy to bottle everything up after all. He's had to deal with his own issues and being stuck in your own head can be... a lot.

Sometimes, you may have impromptu late night talks with Ronin. Trading secrets and all that. Sorting out some feelings and traumas of the past. Those talks can get heavy but things always feel a bit lighter at the end. That's good, isn't it?

He's supportive. He lets you do your own thing, lets you enjoy yourself and indulge in what you love. As long as you take care of yourself too. He might even join you. ("Aren't you a cutie with that smile on your face. Come onnnnnn, show me more, baby.")

I think he'd like those silly couple shirts. The ones with lines like one shirt has "If lost, return to the bastard" and the other is "The bastard" Or just matching things in general. Maybe you want matching plushies, or jewelry, etc. He's down for it.

Learning first aid is recommended if you haven't already. At least, you'd know what to do when Ronin comes to you injured. Victims don't just lay down and wait for their fate. Of course they want to live and some will literally fight for their lives. Ronin keeps himself in shape, but some injuries are just unavoidable. He doesn't like seeing your worried face, so he's quick to ease your worries with his usual bravado.

Horror movie nights are a given. And if you're the type to scare easily (ironic since you're with a serial killer), prepare for some light teasing. Here's a not-so-secret though: Ronin loves it when you cling to him. He likes being able to feel you. Whether it's small instances like your hands brushing against his to you outright hanging onto him like a koala bear. Make him feel your warmth, that you're there. That you'll always be there. (Not. Not like— well, technically they're still— but not there. Not here. Not anymore. Just a memory now that will always haunt him. They left his heart bleeding. And then, an  "Angel" patched it up. He still bleeds a little. But it's bearable. And now. Now, you—)

Tick... tick... tick...

The sheets rustle. The clock continues to tick. Ronin hears your sleepy little murmurs as you frolicked in dreamland.

He chuckles, one of his hands moving to play with a lock of your hair. The sight of you curled up on his bed, in his damn shirt, "Darlin', if this is your way of killin' me slowly, it's working. Juuust a little."

In response, you unconsciously snuggle into his chest. Really now.

Sleeping so peacefully with a serial killer? Maybe he got rid of your sense of self preservation; maybe got some screws loose in that pretty little head of yours.

Ronin pulls you closer.

This was nice. Makes him remember those times when it was easier. As easy as it can get back in Angelwood anyway.

He left that place behind, danced in hell's flames like the Devil he is, letting rot and decay follow him. He didn't mind. Let 'em haunt him till the day he croaks.

When he closes his own eyes, he sees Ther; a reminder of what he had. Of what he lost. Feels like they'll always haunt him too. There, but not there. A spirit? An illusion? No. Maybe just that lingering love he's always going to feel for his childhood best friend.

Ther's gone.

After Ther, came Maria. Maria. Sweet, sweet Saint Maria helped him heal and move on.

And now he's got another angel in his arms. Ronin thinks that's hysterical. The Devil attracts angels it seems like. Wings and all. Letting them decay till those feathers fall and the wings are nothing but bone. It's like giving the middle finger to the good ol' god those old fashioned folks at Angelwood worshipped.

How's that for blasphemy?

[aurmisery]

- a little death -

ronin b. x gn! reader !!

inspired by a friend of mine in the rose's rot discord, vanity! @vanitywoo

hi erm this is my first time putting down a killer chat! work of mine on here uhhhhhhh

cw // mentions of sh scars on mc -

please tell me if anything else in here can be considered triggering !!

okay enjoy!!!!!1!!1!!!!2! sorry if this is ass and or ooc for ronin bro i TRIED MY BEST I TRIEDMYBEST

1878 word count!!!!!!!

FUCKIFORGOT THIS US FLUFF BTW

-

you know when you walk into someone's room, you can immediately tell what kind of person they are? what posters they roll on their walls, what decor they line the edges of their room with- if they have LEDs, what merch they willingly buy and if they have a whole shelf for said merch, etc?

if you were to walk into ronin's room with no idea of who he is other than his oh so charming looks, you might just say "typical, makes sense given his aesthetic." even if the jars of human remains seemed a bit too hardcore and realistic.

it all fit though, the color palette ranging from all hues of red, black, and white, the masks, the lava lamp, the VHS tapes, the illuminated 'KORN' sign hung in the corner of his room matching the 'still alive?' frame with a cartoonishly drawn heart- it was all him- it screamed ronin.

the plainest thing in his room was probably his bed- and he knew that. it was just a black headboard and footboard, with a red duvet and pillows with a white blanket overtop it. it did match the color scheme, which was enough for now, but it was missing something.

.

.

.

but as his pupils grazed over your steady form, warm and breathing, he realized something.

the slight flush of your cheeks, the way your eyelids fell heavy over your unblinking stare, the hazy glare of his TV burning a light glow over your side-

the ruffle of your hair, your legs snaking awkwardly with his, fingers mindlessly tracing invisible doodles over his forearm, and the slight quirk of your brow as your eyes retrace back to his.

"what's up?" your lips curl upwards slowly as his eyes noticeably fade from the trance he planted himself into, brows slanted upwards as he slow blinked.

"...youuuu good?" a small giggle slewed unevenly from your grin, and he scoffs, a playful jab at the side of your waist following the roll of his eyes.

"'m fine, jus' thinkin'. what about you, darlin'? feelin' comfortable in the devil's den?"

you flop over on your right side, facing him rather than the TV, propping yourself up on one elbow with your other arm tracing the angle of his jaw.

"for a devil, you're rather accommodating, i'll give you that," you tease, and he revels in it; in your warmth, in the fiery trace of your finger along his jawline, and for once, his hell is starting to feel a bit hot.

"in a literal sense, if i'm laying in your bed, wearing your shirt, cuddled up with you, watching old slashers, i think i'm as comfortable as i can ever get."

it's his turn to grin, moving his hand from its resting position on your hip to the small of your back, letting a small exhale he didn't even know he was holding fall from his lips.

his downcast eyes flicker from the graphic tee bagging low under the curve of your shoulders to the width of your thighs, and he couldn't help but feel a little warmer.

you did look good in his clothes.

and as your hand caressed his cheek, his head melting into your warmth, he spots something along the flex of your arms.

his blackened irises almost narrow at them, but they reverted back to whatever you would call normal as his hand drags from your back to the base of your arms, fingers gently rubbing over the faded marks of your pliant skin.

at this, the knitted furrow of your brows came together, a slight wrinkle in your expression as you awkwardly chuckle, a defensive grin uneasily firming itself on your cheeks.

"what's this for?" you question, a wry smile on your face as you realize the implications of his stare, and the look on his face...was just blank.

"no reason, just glad you don't...do that anymore, i guess."

with a shiver up your spine, you firm up your lips into a sheepish smile, nodding with a creak to your voice. "aww, c'mon. can't even say that without the 'i guess' at the end?"

and then he laughed, the tiniest hue of cherry blending into his ivory skin, his onxy irises filled with amusement.

"is it like me to carve open my chest and bare it fresh? i'm not that much of a romantic, darlin'."

it was your turn to scoff, turning over onto your stomach and reaching out to cup his chin with the flex of your fingers, thumb lolling over his bottom lip.

"'i'm not that much of a romantic, darlin'," you mock, voice whiny and pitchy before you deadpanned, eyes narrowed at him.

"oh please, cut the bullshit, ro. not that much of a romantic my ass."

ronin weaved a palm through the plum tresses sitting upon his head, a dismissive hum resting in his throat as he looked you over. "i'm not really, i mean- i kill people?"

"yeah- abusers. usually, anyway."

you then fanned out your hands, your digits extending with each gesture you were about to point out, pupils darting upwards into your lashes as if recounting your times together.

"our motorcycle dates? the shirts you give me each time i come over? the way you snuggle against me while we watch movies, when you complain about being cold to get me closer to you, when you crack cheesey jokes about how lonely your lips are, how-"

"okay, okay, i get it."

and as you took a glance at your boyfriend, a bead of sweat brimmed at his forehead and neck, face flushing a hue of carmine as his words spewed out in an exasperated rush.

you grin.

"oh, and that time you rushed me through your front door after i got drenched by the rain despite the fact that you were also soaked. when you prepared me soup in worry that i would get sick, and while i didn't get ill, you did the next day."

you were trying to be subtle, but with how his pupils were blown out and watching your every move, he was probably more aware of your slow crawl over to him than you were, the mattress making a small dip where your knee paused.

"then, i stayed over the whole time and nursed you back to health while we watched your favorite movies? or when i stopped by your job and you purposely wiped your face with the front of your shirt to flash your-"

"okay, fine! fuck, you win!"

his face was hot and covered by a thin sheen of sweat, a hand flayed out over his jaw to hide his most-likely embarrassed expression, brows arched downwards into a glare. he couldn't even look at you.

ronin beaufort, flustered? ronin fucking beaufort, embarrassed?!

you just made the devil bow his head.

a boisterous laugh bounced out of the pits of your stomach- jesus christ, you've rarely never seen him like this before, all shy and flustered.

your arms snake over your own abdomen, trying to pat down the rumbling giggles orchestrating from your gut with a roll onto your side, and you feel his elbow butt between your ribs playfully.

"give ya an inch and you take a mile, huh?"

he grumbles, giving you a nudge as you only cackle further, slapping a palm over your eyes to smear the tears pearling at your lash line.

"god, your face is fucking priceless when you're embarrassed! geez, i shoulda taken a picture, would've been amazing to have that spammed in mai-"

without skipping a beat, he reeled you into his arms, before turning and slamming you down right in the middle of the bed, hands jabbing and feverishly dancing over your sides.

all the sudden, your laughing increased tenfold- tears springing out of your eyes like sprinkles as you jerked, bucked, and kicked in protest of his tickling, but you couldn't do anything against his iron grip.

you felt like you were dying, stomach exhausted as you guffawed and blabbered, hiccups along the lines of "i can't-" "wait, my stomach hurts-" "have mercy-" following between the tears pitifully steaming down your reddening face.

he lets out a soft-hearted snicker, his body over yours and his knees pinned on either sides of your hips. his plum locks tickles your forehead, reminding you of the teasing grin on his face as he mercilessly dug at your sides- before his fingers traced upwards to your collarbone, and-

his fingertips padded over your neck, before your head jerked instinctively and you could only cackle further. is he trying to kill you?

and finally- you fought back, hands reaching up into his shirt.

he stiffened, eyes widening as your hands snaked up into the black fabric and wandered over his lower waist, making him jump and bubble his cheeks- as if that would quiet his laughter.

but you powered through the pain in your gut from laughing your vocal cords out and frenzied your hands up his abdomen, he gave out, falling pathetically besides you as you took your sweet, sweet retribution.

his arms flexed over his head in defense, lashes clenched shut as his face buried itself into the pillow besides him, almost as if taking cover from your violent antics.

you curl over against him, hands jabbing and frantically scurrying up his shirt as his laughs and pleas muffle besides you, and then-

your hands seemingly touched a sore spot, his laughs dying out and his breath hitching, as if he was in pain. finally taking a second to feel the skin below your palm, you handle it with deft, and...

it's smooth, slightly arched in size, extending from the middle of his chest to the side of his pecs. you lift up your head to look up his already hiked-up shirt, and...

it's his scars. a cringe forms in the side of your gut, fuck- did you piss him off?

"sorry," you usher lowly, withdrawing your hands, only for his to grab your wrists, placing them back right back on his chest.

his thumbs roll over your wrists, reassuring your tense frame back into ease, and you eye his facial expressions carefully.

his eyes are beady, sucked into the way your thumbs navigate the faded discoloration of his torso, brows furrowed and watching with a slight quirk in his lips.

and then his eyes harden.

"do you, uh," he begins, tone devoid of that usual bite he has to it, gaze wandering away from your hands on him, from your face and to the corner of his room.

"do you see me as, y'know, uhm-"

"the devil? hell yeah."

he smiles.

it was so... genuine, so adoring, blooming through the erasure of his doubts, of your validation- even as his soft hair messily spiraled into his vision, he couldn't take his eyes off you.

and as you slink besides him, letting your head sink into the pillow conjoined with his- he realized something, and this time he took full joy in memorizing it.

your touch, your voice, your sweet, sweet lips- even the messy, unbothered display you shroud around.

the way you smile at him in the dim light of his room, the warmth radiating from your body as your lips brush against his.

you're all the decoration he needs.

-

okay hi i hope you liked itsorry for the words being kinda clunky here n there???? ok bye

[lav-is-writing]

omg another killer chat writer!! i love your work!! could i ask for some ronin fluff? maybe like with a reader that’s a horror game streamer but the reader is terrified of playing them?

Thank you! Happy you enjoy my writing :D

Ronin x !Streamer!Reader

Warnings: None

“Okay everyone!” You spoke through your headset, smiling as you noticed the numbers of viewers growing steadily. “Today, we’re gonna be playing . . . “ Your smile fell, before rushing to plaster on a fake one. “A horror game! Yay . . . “

. . .

Ronin watched, a smirk present as he watched your reaction to his request. Anonymous, of course, he couldn’t risk drawing attention to himself. It had been months since he had begun to watch you, a popular online streamer. You were cute enough, especially when you were screaming at the games you played.

Thanks to him, your recent content has become the one thing you dreaded the most- horror. 

Trashy knock-off games made you both laugh and scream, so he started with those. But it wasn’t enough. Ronin turned to real horror, the most gory and brutal ones he could find. 

Noticing the chat, he typed in a message of his own. 

goreboy: scared, darlin’?

. . .

Most of the time, you didn’t bother to interact with your viewers. Sure, you occasionally found one intriguing and made sure to read their comments, but other than that, they mostly went ignored. That is, until now.

goreboy: scared, darlin’?

God, how he taunted you. He only watched your horror content, leading you to believe that he was the one requesting them all. You could see him behind his screen, a devilish smirk on his face as he watched you suffer to get through each suggestion without screaming in terror.

Yet, you were growing fond of him. 

Constantly checking if he viewed your latest videos, if he left a like or dislike. You loved his comments, whether they were about how a certain murder method was off, or if you screamed too much or too little. 

Then you would adjust to his taste, trying to . . . please him? The thought caused you to stop, baffled. You didn’t like him- no, he was just a minor distraction from your work. Shaking your head, you tried to focus on the game.

“goreboy, I’m not scared at all!”

. . .

Ronin froze.

Did . . . Did you just address him directly?

No, he must’ve heard wrong.

But what if . . . ?

. . .

Hours passed as you worked to finish the game, and despite your previous statement, you were screaming the entire time. It was amusing to your viewers, but felt like torture to you. But you managed to get through it, with goreboy’s help.

goreboy: try the red key, darlin’

goreboy: jumpscare warning

Although you would never admit it, his comments got you through the game. The warnings helped you prepare, and you were able to continue time and time again from his hints. You ended your stream, leaning back in your chair with a smile.

And on the other side, Ronin was doing the same, the both of you anticipating your next stream, his next suggestion to answer and scream to. 

[multifandomsimagine]

Imagine Zayne surprising you on your birthday

— Birthday Present for @cantstoptheimagines —

You let out a groan as you walked up the steps of your apartment building, carefully rotating your shoulder as you attempted to soothe the soreness you felt. It was bad enough that Wanders couldn't give you a break for your birthday - couldn't those Dark Mysts wait until tomorrow to wreak havoc in the No.98 No-Hunt Zone - but with how long the mission took complete, it was way too late to spend time with Zayne. A quick glance at your watch confirmed that thought as the screen flashed 11:11 pm.

Zayne would have just finished his shift at Akso Hospital with the long hours he usually worked. You knew that if you messaged him, he would quickly respond to your text and turn his car around to head over to your apartment. But he already slept so little that you would rather he go to bed and hang out with you the next time he was available.

But as you pulled out your phone to pull up your text thread with Zayne, it would be a lie to say that you didn't feel a bit sad that you couldn't see him on your birthday. He had already sent a sweet happy birthday message and had promised that he would give you your present when you two met up but if you were honest, you would have rather just see him.

Reaching the front door of your place, you quickly entered the key code, ready to shed off your Hunter uniform and pass out of your bed. Pushing open the door, you step inside the dark living room, closing it behind you as your hand moves to the light switch and flick it up. Eyes sweeping the room, you let out a loud gasp and jump up slightly when you spot a familiar bespectacled man in your dining room, platters of pastries and sweets litter your table, and right in the middle of it is a beautifully decorated cake.

"Zayne, you're here!" Taking large strides, you quickly reach him and wrap your arms around him to hug him. He reciprocates just as fast, holding you flush against him as the both of you take the other in. Tilting your head up, you give him a bright smile, all the exhaustion in your body instantly vanishing with him here. "I thought you would go home to sleep after your shift. You must be so tired."

He shakes his head at your words, tilting his head down to look at you, eyes softening as he stares at you, a gentle smile on his face while one of his hands runs down your hair. "I know we made plans to celebrate your birthday another day because of your mission but I still wanted to see you today. After all, how could I miss my love's birthday?"

Despite how often Zayne called you sweet names like that, each one made you blush and caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach. Burying your face in his chest, you only grow more flustered as Zayne chuckles at your reaction, clearly enjoying your flustered state.

Feeling him shift underneath you, you feel him press a kiss to your head before speaking again. "Come blow out the candles and eat some macarons. I ordered your favorite."

[mariposa-writes]

The Rumor Mill

Pairing: Travis Kelce x Reader

Word count: 1.2k

Overview: The truth hurts more than the rumors.

CW: infidelity, betrayal, emotional distress, and relationship complications.

As the rumors continued to spread, you couldn't help but feel a jumbled mix of frustration and hurt. Every other day seemed to bring about a new headline or TikTok video speculating on Travis Kelce and Taylor Swift's supposed relationship. You knew that it shouldn't matter. After all, you and Travis were nothing more than friends with benefits. Despite all this, it didn't make the rumors sting any less.

You wouldn't have agreed to being fuck buddies if you'd known what laid ahead. In the beginning, it sounded like a great idea; both of your jobs were too time consuming for any kind of committed relationship. Yet after some time, you started to develop feelings for the six-foot-five tight end, and you couldn't help the ball of anxiety that continued to grow in your stomach, knowing that you'd be the one walking away with a broken heart.

It was Travis's fault, really, for being so infuriatingly perfect. He went above and beyond to make sure you felt cherished, both inside and outside the bedroom. From ordering takeout on your busiest nights to ensuring that your pleasure surpassed his in every encounter, he always left you feeling valued.

He texted you this evening, asking what you were up to. You knew this was his way of inviting himself over for sex. Typically, you'd be all for it, but with all the rumors going around, you decided against it. Sorry, not feeling too good. Started my period. That was the response you gave him. It wasn't completely false - your period had indeed started and you weren't exactly feeling your best either. However, Travis usually didn't mind when you were on your period and the amazing orgasms he gifted tended to ease away any cramps.

You didn't bother waiting for his reply, instead tossing your phone on the white fluffy rug and heading for your kitchen. All you wanted to do was curl up on your couch with a tub of ice cream and watch reruns of love island, to make yourself feel a little better about your life.

You grabbed the rocky road from the fridge, doing just that as you snuggled into your comfy couch. You only made it through one and a half episodes, before your door bell was ringing. You groaned, throwing the blanket off of you and heading for the front door.

It was probably your stupid neighbor lady, wanting to complain about how you didn't hid your trashcans well enough. You yanked open the door, ready to go off on the poor soul standing on the other size, but to your surprise Travis was there with flowers and a grocery bag in his hand, a Walgreens bag specifically.

"Brought you some things to help you feel better," he announced, his tone gentle and caring, making your stomach flutter. Without a word, you stepped aside, inviting him into your space.

A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he placed the bag and flowers on your spotless kitchen counter. The vibrant bouquet added a touch of color to the room, and you couldn't help but appreciate the gesture even though a knot of mixed emotions still clung to your heart.

"Thanks but you didn't have to do that," you said, your voice laced with genuine gratitude and a hint of reluctance. You wanted to convey your appreciation, but the complicated nature of your relationship with Travis made accepting such kindness a double-edged sword.

A scoff escaped your lips, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes as you turned away from him. If you truly held a place of significance in his life, why did he talk so casually about his potential involvement with Taylor Swift on his podcast? That single conversation had been the catalyst for all the rumors, and deep down, you couldn't completely dismiss the possibility that they might be true. After all, the two of you rarely shared the intricate details of your day-to-day lives.

His brows furrowed, his concern evident in his furrowed brow. "What was that about?"

"Nothing," you mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze.

He persisted, a determined note creeping into his voice. "It was clearly something."

You hesitated, the words lingering on the tip of your tongue. The turmoil of emotions within you was too tangled to unravel in this moment, but Travis deserved to know your thoughts, even if they were filled with uncertainty.

Sighing, you finally spoke, your voice tinged with vulnerability. "It doesn't matter right now."

He rounded the kitchen island, his steps purposeful as he positioned himself squarely in front of you. In a decisive move, he gently but firmly grasped your wrists, his touch demanding your full attention. "You can tell me if something's wrong," he persisted, his eyes locked onto yours, his determination unwavering.

You drew in a deep breath, your mind racing with the weight of the question that had been gnawing at you. Maybe it was best to confront it head-on, to rip off the bandage, even if it meant facing an uncomfortable truth.

"Are the rumors about you and Taylor Swift true?" The words slipped from your lips, laced with a mixture of anxiety and longing. You held your gaze steady, searching for any hint of honesty in his eyes. "Are you two talking, or dating, or anything like that?" The silence that followed your question stretched, urging you to speak again.

He sighed, releasing your wrists and rubbing his chin, his actions speaking louder than words. The lack of an immediate response told you more than you needed to know, and a wellspring of emotions surged within you.

"Seriously?" you questioned, taking a step back from him, anger seeping into your voice. "I thought you had enough respect to at least end things with me before pursuing an international superstar." You were furious, and the betrayal you felt was palpable.

When you and Travis had embarked on this arrangement, you had agreed on one fundamental rule – exclusivity. Despite the lack of a formal commitment, there was an unspoken understanding that you wouldn't be sleeping with other people, even if your connection wasn't officially labeled as a relationship.

He knew about your past, about your parents and your father's infidelity that had marred your childhood. He knew that infidelity was the one thing you despised above all else. He knew it was the reason you had been hesitant to pursue conventional relationships or believe in the concept of love.

You took a deep, steadying breath, your efforts aimed at quelling the storm of emotions inside you. "You need to go," you said, your voice firm and resolute. When he remained rooted in place, you added with an urgency, "Now."

"I'm sorry," he whispered softly, his voice laced with remorse as he retrieved his keys from the kitchen island, his footsteps carrying him toward the front door.

Your silence hung in the air, heavy with unspoken disappointment, as you waited for the telltale sound of the door closing behind him. When it finally did, it was as if a dam had burst within you, and the tears flowed freely. Each tear felt like a piece of your heart breaking, and the pain was almost unbearable. You had believed Travis to be a good guy, someone different from the men you had known before. Yet, in this moment, it seemed he had let you down, just like so many others had in the past.

[87kelce]

—tell me, daddy, it's yours

summary: travis returns home from an away game and you just can't wait to get him back into bed with you.

warnings: smut (18+ only, no minors), slight possessiveness, use of daddy kink, size kink, slow sex, semi-rough sex, doggystyle, thigh riding, praise kink, fingering, pussy eating, finger sucking, multiple orgasms, aftercare

word count: 2119

notes: title taken from the song gorilla by bruno mars. this is basically pwp what can i say. again likes and reblogs are very much appreciated 🫶

Nothing felt right when Travis was away. He was home more often than not, but the few days he went to another state for a game, always felt like torture. You promised him you would be fine at home by yourself, but then you always missed him too much and just wished his was home already.

Every time he had an away game, you usually spend most of your time between the couch and the bed, wearing his jersey and wanting nothing more than to be back in his arms. Thankfully today was the day he was travelling back home and you were laying in bed when you heard the front door open and close. It was late and you really should be asleep but you just couldn't, not when you knew he was coming home so soon. The flight wasn't long and you had called him before he left, him letting you know how long he would be. He told you not to wait up for him and just to get some rest, but you heard him dump his bag by the couch before the bedroom door slowly opened.

"Hey baby.. you awake?"

"Mmhm.."

"I'm going for a shower.. I'll be back in 15 minutes, okay?"

"Okay."

He left the door slightly open, walking down the hall to the bathroom. The fifteen minutes he was in the shower for, felt like hours. You just wanted him back in bed, his arms wrapped around you while he kissed all over your face until you were giggling and pushing him away from you. He's always over affectionate when he gets back from an away game, like he's just letting go after a stressful time away, playing in a stadium that's not home.

You were still wearing his jersey, and even after months of wearing it, it still smells of him. It became a comfort item for you whenever he was away, just slipping it on and instantly feeling warm and safe.

Eventually the bedroom door opens again and you don't look at him until you feel the bed dip beside you. Opening your eyes, you see him staring at you, eyes crinkled and a massive grin on his face.

"Hi baby.."

"Hi.."

You scooted across the bed, snuggling into his arms as he kissed your forehead. You buried your head in his neck, and shifted slightly to straddle his thigh. One of his hands found your waist, and rubbed your skin with his thumb, his face turning inwards to kiss your cheek. His beard stubble slightly scratched against your skin and you swore you could almost cry from how much you missed it.

"You miss me or somethin'?"

"Lil' bit.."

He just chuckled, squeezing at your hip. He dipped his head slightly, lips pressing to your neck for a brief kiss. You adored his affectionate side, the side he saved just for you when you were at home together. He was still affectionate to you if you were ever out in public together, but he didn't go overboard with it, saving the best part for when he had you alone. You knew his love language was physical touch and he showed that every time you were in bed, or cooking dinner while he had his hands on your waist, swaying with you while you stirred something in a pan.

"Missed you too.."

He mumbled against your skin, hand squeezing at your waist again. You tried not to make any noise but he heard you softly whine against his skin, his hand now sliding across your lower back to hold your other hip.

"How badly did you miss me, hm?"

"Couldn't help myself while you were away.. but it's not the same without you.."

He tightened the grip he had on your waist, slowly pushing you to grind up and down his thigh, the hem of his shorts bunching up to give you more friction than you were expecting. Your hands moved to fist his t-shirt, gripping onto him as you felt yourself already close to an orgasm. Travis moved his hand that wasn't on your waist, down to the drawstrings on your shorts that were tied in a knot around your waist. He made quick use of his fingers, undoing the knot and pulling your shorts loose, before his hand delved under the waistband. One of your hands immediately went to his wrist, grabbing on as you felt his fingers run through your folds, causing you to almost go limp against him, whimpering into his neck.

"I got you, baby.. I got you.."

He started rubbing circles against your nub, your hand gripping tighter around his wrist. He stopped briefly for a second, then you felt his pinky and index finger spread you open, allowing him to slowly plunge his two middle fingers knuckle deep inside you. All the while he was leaving soft kisses over your neck, listening to your little whines and whimpers against his skin.

"Doing so good for me, baby.."

You moved your hand that was gripping at his wrist, to tug at the waistband of your shorts, trying to rid yourself of them. He got the hint, pulling his hand from around your waist, helping you tug them off, while he still had two fingers inside you, slowly sliding them in and out of you every so often. You were almost already completely spent, feeling your legs tremble against him as his fingers pushed you to your first orgasm of the night—you knew he wouldn't let up after an away game and you had to prepare yourself for more than one tonight, maybe even more than two.

He slid his fingers out of you and just as he was about to wipe them down on an old t-shirt discarded on the bed, you grabbed his wrist, taking his fingers into your mouth and licking them clean.

"Shit.."

He locked eyes with you as you took his hand from your mouth, his mouth hanging open slightly. Once you had let go of his hand, he wasted no time in sitting up slightly, hand grabbing the back of your head and pulling you in for a kiss, almost bruising your lips from how hard he kissed you.

You pulled away first, catching your breath, but only for a second before he lifted you off his thigh, letting you kneel down on the bed beside him. You tried to turn to watch him get up but he faced your head back with his hand, moving to kneel up behind you. His hand moved to your back and gently pressed you down, face squashed into the pillow as you moved your hands up to grab onto it.

"You tell me to stop and I'll stop, okay?"

"Okay.."

"Okay?"

"Okay.. Daddy.."

You turned your head to breathe for a second, mumbling out a response to him and out the corner of your eye, you saw him smile and nod, acknowledging that he understood you. Then you felt the head of his cock run through your folds and your whole body went limp again, moans muffled into the pillow. You heard him grunt through his teeth as he pushed himself inside you, throwing his head back and squeezing his eyes shut as he seated himself fully inside you. He moved his hands to your hips, squeezing gently before hearing a soft exhale leave your lips, a satisfying sound that gave him the green light to keep going.

He was going slow, making sure you felt everything he was giving you, thriving off the squeaks and whimpers you were eliciting from your slightly swollen out lips.

"Y'aint satisfied until you're all filled up, huh?"

He only heard you whine into the pillow and decided that wasn't enough for him. His hand was then in your hair, pulling you up off the mattress slightly.

"I said.. y'aint satisfied until you're all filled up, huh?"

"No.."

"'Atta girl.. who's pussy is this, baby?"

"Yours.."

"Hm? Who's?"

"Yours, Daddy.."

"Good girl.."

He pulled out of you and thrusted back in, slamming his hips against you as you spoke. He was purposefully tiring you out even more, making sure you were absolutely spent and satisfied when he was done with you. He moved his hands over your hips every time he slammed his hips against you, his thumbs rubbing into your skin. One of your legs gave way and started to shake, but Travis caught it and put it back in its place, holding onto the back of your thigh. You leaned more into the pillow, pushing your body forward and trying to pull yourself off of him, trembling as the wave crashed over you. But he pulled you right back, hand wrapping around your stomach.

"Hey, hey.. I got you.."

You whine out, hips jerking back against him until you heard him hiss through his teeth.

"Keep doing that, fuck.."

Your movements were sloppy but you tried to almost fuck yourself back on him and his grunts and deep groans were his way of telling you it felt good.

"You feel so good, baby.. I got it from here, it's ok."

You sighed out, holding onto the pillow again as he slammed his hips forward, skin slapping on skin. You knew he wouldn't let up after two and was clearly trying to coax another orgasm out of you—and he's still got his own release coming as well. But you could tell he was close, some of his thrusts becoming sloppy. Then he started to slow down again, pulling out to the tip before pushing back inside, his hips grinding against you as he's full to the hilt inside you. He just stops for a moment, letting you feel all of him inside you, feel just how big he is inside you and finally letting you try to adjust to his size. It was almost putting you to sleep, and you'd let him if he wanted to, you'd let him fuck you right to sleep. You were already tired before but he's making you completely worn out and exhausted, his cock driving into you at just the right angle.

He kept going at a slow pace, his movements gentle and soft now, while his hand brushed the hair out of your face and turned your head so your cheek was on the pillow.

"Hey baby, you got one more for me?"

"Mmhm.."

He brushed his thumb over your cheek, before returning his focus on his thrusts, slow and steady, until he felt you tremble against him. He cooed at you, encouraging you to let go and relax into it. You had to turn your head back into the pillow, grinding back against him and trying to work your way through your third orgasm of the night. His hands massaged over your hips, working you through it until he heard you sigh and watched your body go limp. He pushed into you one more time, groaning before pulling out, spilling himself over your back. He huffed out a shaky breath, before standing up and walking to the bathroom, adjusting his shorts on the way there.

He returned with a cool towel, wiping you down and cleaning you up. As he did so, his hands occasionally squeezed at your hips, or massaged up your back, trying to push all the knots out your body. He tapped your hips twice, indicating for you to turn over, which you did. He tugged your shorts back up your legs, before tying the drawstring back into a knot. His hands then moved up and down your legs, watching you smile and close your eyes, settling into his movements.

"You okay?"

"Yeah.. I'm all good.."

"Wasn't too much?"

"Never.."

He grabbed the towel, throwing it in the laundry basket before he got back into bed, laying down on his back. He pulled you back over his chest, hand scratching at your scalp through your hair. You were already half asleep, but he knew every little thing to get you to fall asleep completely.

"Thank you.."

Travis looked down at you and smiled, leaning down to kiss you softly.

"You're welcome, baby.. now go to sleep, okay?"

"Mmhm.."

You pulled off him to turn around, letting him move behind you, arm wrapping around your stomach to pull you in against him. You felt his lips across the back and sides of your neck, gently kissing across your skin. There was no sexual undertones in his kisses, just pure adoration—it was his way of getting you to fall asleep. Soon, your eyes fluttered closed and Travis felt you drift into sleep, smiling before he dropped his head to the pillow, slowly falling asleep himself.

[treasuringizu]

“Hmmm…” Satoru holds your hand up, twisting it this way and that and carefully examining it, pitch-black glasses discarded on the side to allow his azure eyes to show. He hums, a deep rumble in his throat as his long, pale fingers trace the back of your palm, gently tugging on your pointer finger, then your pinkie, and your ring finger.

His eyebrows furrow in faux concentration, lips in a pout, and then he nods once to himself. “Alright. Looks promising!” He says out-loud to himself, like a child inspecting their new toy.

You’re so used to his antics that you don’t even bat an eye at his out of the blue examination of your hand, an amused smile playing on your lips as you watch him. You had been walking past where he sat on the couch, only for his arms to wrap around you and pull you sideways onto his lap, no care for what you had been doing prior. He then proceeded to grab your hands with no words, silently beginning his very serious yet sudden inspection. Not like you put up much of a fight, though.

“Satoru,” you say. He rubs his thumb over your knuckles. “Everything okay, baby?” You ask, raising your eyebrows as your smile grows wider with the way his arms tighten minisculely over your midsection at the pet name. You love him. So, so much.

He grins, pearly white teeth winking at you and he ardently nods his head. “Yes! Everything’s great in fact, my dear sugar plum.”

You shake your head, and his attention is momentarily taken from your hands to you, dramatically sighing. “Not that one either?”

“No, Satoru. Try another name.”

“Aw, okay. Anyways!” He intertwines your hands together, affectionately squeezing. Your arm that’s wrapped around his shoulders moves so that your other hand is in his hair, running through the soft snow-white strands, causing his eyes briefly flutter shut at the kind touch. “…Hmm.”

You grin, always happy to see the little ways you affect him. “Anyways…” you prompt, dragging it out and successively reminding him of what he had started to say.

His eyes snap back open, and he gets back to his original task. “As I was saying, you have really, really nice hands,” he murmurs, gently swaying your locked hands, then placing a soft kiss on the back of your palm. “I love them.”

“Thank you, Satoru. I love your hands too.”

“I know, they’re pretty amazing.”

“I’ll smack you.”

He glosses over your threat. “Buttttt…” His grin grows a bit shy, timid— well, as timid as he ever could be. Leaning in for a kiss, you meet him half-way, and your heart leaps as your lips touch, even though this definitely isn’t the first time he’s kissed you before.

When you part, he leans his forehead against yours, his hand that’s not interlocked with yours smoothing over your back, under your t-shirt and fervidly rubbing against your bare skin.

He winks, and your mouth dries. “I think it would look even better with a ring on it.”

[lilygoofywritingcave]

Proposing to the KC! LIs

Finally, after a few months with the serial killers, it seems you have found true love with one of them! Are you brave enough to propose and bare the "consequences", or just curious how would they react?

Misaki Katsuo, the Silly and Chaotic Reaper

Misaki is an absolute gremlin, if you ever think that proposing to them will be romantic and graceful, you're dead wrong.

Places: A rooftop overlooking the city night. We all know Misaki loves the thrill of being high up, and with the city lights below, it feels like a moment stolen from a dream. You propose while they were laughing at some dumb joke, completely catching them off guard.

Reaction: The second you reveal the ring, Misaki completely freezes. Their chaotic, silly expression fades as their hands tremble, maybe even skipped a bit of heart. Of course, her entire life has been about survival, constantly running and killing for money. No one has ever asked her to stay before.

Putting on the ring: She would try to make jokes to calm herself down: "Damn, Y/N, you're really tryna wife up an assassin? Bold." But her voice cracks as you slipped on the ring and she’s crying before even realizing it. Misaki would insist they don't need a ring that fancy and will try to sell it. But if you got them a ring from a gacha machine? They would wear it everywhere, dead serious, just like the menace she is.

Answer: "You're a dumbass. But you're my dumbass now. So yeah… let's do it." (She definitely isn't hugging the air out of you while sobbing)

Sillies: + First text to SlaughterHouse? "LOOKS WHO'S JUST GOT CUFFED!!!" + "Babe, we gotta get a weapon matching this. A wedding-themed knife set?" + Expect a hyperactive Misaki for the next few days because if they stop they will cry again, oh and let's also mention the millions of marriage memes coming up

Angel/Maria de la Rosa, the Maneating Perfectionist

Angel is elegance, charm, and perfection wrapped in a gorgeous, deadly package. If you think you can propose without making it an unforgettable moment, think again.

Places: A special day, maybe she got promoted, you two went out for a fancy restaurant. You surprise her by slipping the ring into her champagne glass. She was probably thinking about her own proposal plans: “I’ll do it in Paris, or maybe under the northern lights…” when she noticed the ring, time just stopped.

Reaction: Every step of Angel's life has been carefully planned, dedicated to perfection and control. But this? This was never part of the script. She tries to speak, but for once, words failed her. She would try to stare at your face, searching for some signs of a cruel joke. But there's no deception, just you, offering her something she never dared to dream of, something real.

Putting on the ring: Angel trembles as she admires the ring, not for its value, but because you chose it, just for her. The moment it's slid onto her finger, a soft, breathless laugh escapes, like she can’t believe it’s real. She’ll insist she isn’t crying, but her ruined makeup says otherwise. And if the ring was custom-made? She’ll never take it off—because nothing has ever felt more right.

Answer: "Heaven exists, and it’s right here, in your arms. You’re the only person I’d ever consider going fully vegetarian for. So yes, mi amour, let’s give them something unforgettable" (She’s already planning the wedding down to the last detail.)

Sillies: + First text to SlaughterHouse: "Breaking news: I SAID YES! (And no, I will not be commenting on allegations of Y/N stealing my heart.)" + "I swear, if I ever miss a shot again, I'm blaming it on this ring. Too beautiful to not look at." + Casually flexes her ring in every situation, taking a sip of coffee? Ring in full view. Kissing you? Oh, she definitely tilts her hand just right for the perfect shot.

Ronin Beaufort, the Devil’s Poet of Purgatory

Ronin is a devil dressed in charm, a poet who spills verses like blood. A proposal to him isn’t just about love, it’s about defying god and fate themselves.

Places: "The Purgatory" of course, maybe after a gory kill and he's drenched, pumping with adrenaline. The place where his past sins linger, where the devil in him reigns. And yet, here you are, turning it into something sacred.

Reaction: For once, Ronin is speechless, trying to process if this is real or some prank. He’s spent his whole life running from ghosts of his past, his sins, the shadows of who he’s become. But you? You’re standing there, unwavering, refusing to run. He would definitely get tensed, as if he’s afraid he might lose this moment, lose you: “Darlin’, I ain’t even dead yet, and you already tryna claim my last name?”

Putting on the ring: When you slide it on, Ronin would definitely smirsk: "A wedding ring, huh? Guess that means I’m officially off the market." If you got him a ring with a hidden blade or devil engraving? He’s obsessed but acts like it’s no big deal. He might wear it around his neck at first but when it's on, it's ON.

Answer: "Tsck… You really just tied yourself to the devil, darlin’. If this is a sin, baby, then let me burn for you. Hope you’re ready for a lifetime of crime and bad poetry, ‘cause I ain’t letting you go." (Then he yanks you into a kiss, rough and desperate.)

Sillies: + "Babe, hear me out, matching crowbars engraved with our anniversary date. Just think about it." + Will 100% lean against a wall, flash his ring, and smirk at strangers like: "Single? Couldn’t be me." + First text to SlaughterHouse: "It seems a certatin someone actually looked at me and said, ‘Yeah, I wanna deal with that forever.’ Wild. Also, taking bets on how long it takes before Y/N realizes they made a mistake. Place your wagers wisely."

Valentin Viljoen, the Vigilante with Ice cold Heart

Valentin is a man of structure, morality, and control. But love? Love is unpredictable. Love is terrifying. And yet, here you are, asking him to embrace it.

Places: A short walk near the forest together. Soft golden light shines through the leaves and the scent of flowers linger in the air, truly a part of the Garden of Eden brought alive, where love can bloom freely.

Reaction: Valentin freezes. His mind races, but for once, there is no logical path forward, no neatly laid-out plan. He doesn't react immediately. No sharp breath, no wide-eyed shock, just silence. His whole life has been spent carrying the weight of a protector, the unwavering force of justice. And yet, here you are, asking him to be something else. To be selfish. To be yours.

Putting on the ring: His hands have always been steady in battle and in every aspect of his life, except for now. They tremble as you take his hand, slipping the ring onto his finger. His breath goes unsteady as he turns his hand over, inspecting the way it fits: perfect, inevitable, like it was always meant to be there.

Answer: "Marriage isn’t just a promise. It’s a contract. A duty. A vow I will never break. And I would be honored to spend my life upholding it with you." (He has already acquired a legal marriage paper by now)

Sillies: + “Y/N, does this mean I have to plan the wedding? Because if so, I have prepared a highly efficient multi-tab spreadsheet.” + The first thing he sends: a picture of the marriage certificate, of course... + Has to resist the urge to immediately update his legal documents. ("Should I change my emergency contact to you? Do I list you as my primary benefactor? Actually, give me a moment...")

P/S: I hope everyone had a nice time proposing <3