#kinda ashamed of myself for admitting this | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gay-dorito-dust · 8 months ago

Note

May I please do the batboys with a fem reader who kinda dislikes their laugh, or smile?, like maybe when they smile they cover it with their hands!, or when they laugh they try holding it in or muffling it?.

Maybe turns away from them the first time they burst out laughing cause of embarrassment?

THANK YOU SO MUCH AND I LOVE UR WRITING TAKE BREAKS AND CONTINUE THE GRIND (•̀ᴗ•́)و

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to get to this request, work has been beating my ass lately 🤣 but I’m trying to get through as many requests I possibly can, after all I’m only one person running this thing. 🐿️🦦🫶

Dick would make it his life’s mission to get you to laugh after hearing it for the first time, despite the fact that it was hidden behind your hand, he still heard that wonderful laugh of yours.

He’d gladly make a fool out of himself if it meant catching a glimpse of a smile before you’d inevitably hide it away behind your hand.

His heart hurts when you do hide away your smile because he knows how pretty it is, he could feel it in the depths of his soul as it warmed whenever he heard your muffled laughter.

‘I think I caught a smile.’ He’d sing teasingly.

‘Not you didn’t.’ You’d say immeditly as your hand hid your mouth from him, smile immeditly fading away at the aspect of him seeing the smile you’ve always seemed to be embarrassed by. Dick’s smile melted off of his face upon hearing how defensive you got over him supposedly seeing you smile and sat next to you. ‘What’s wrong?’ He then asks.

‘Nothing’s wrong.’ You tell him sharply.

‘You dislike your smile don’t you.’ Dick says and from the look upon your face told him that he had been correct with his assumption as he reaches out to hold your free hand and squeezed. ‘There’s nothing to be ashamed of sweetheart but who am I to tell you how to feel about yourself.’ You didn’t say anything and Dick took this as his cue to continue. ‘What I will say however is that I think your laugh is sweet like candy, I just can’t get enough of it, even if it is muffled behind your hand. I will forever live to see the day where I get to see your cute smile beam at me just for doing something silly like trip over Hayley.’

You let out a small giggle upon remembering that day. Dick made dinner and almost landed face first in it because Hayley decided to make herself comfortable by lying down right by his feet. Dick beamed in excitement when he heard that small chuckle, but had to remind himself to stay on task if he were to get through to you. ‘See! Just like that! This is what ultimate that proves that I’ve done a good job in keeping you happy and all I’ve ever wanted to do since meeting you was keeping you happy and in my life.’ Dick finished as his face softened upon looking at you.

‘So please don’t ever think that your laugh is weird or that your smile is not a perfect one because to me they are perfect because it’s you’re smile and it’s you’re laugh.’ Dick then rests his forehead against yours and looks deep into your eyes. ‘Anything relating to you is perfect to me and I want to be the reason for them every single day of our lives, if that’s okay with you.’

Your smile came back in full force as you pressed your forehead further against his own, content and happy. ‘It’s more than okay with me Dickie bird, you didn’t need to ask.’ You reassured him as you both sat there in comfortable silence.

Jason would always ask if he could see you smile.

‘No.’ You said from behind your hand.

‘Why not?’ Jason asks as he knelt before you, resting his hands on your knees, rubbing them reassuringly.

‘My smile is weird because my teeth aren’t straight or perfectly white, my laugh is ugly and I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of anyone.’ You admitted as you saw how intently Jason looked at you, almost as though he could see through you and the hand covering your mouth, which only made you feel more insecure as you instinctively ran your tongue across the top row of your teeth.

‘That’s simply not true sweetheart, not one bit.’ Jason replied as he moved his hands to hold your face in his hands. ‘Who cares if your teeth aren’t straight or alabaster white, I certainly don’t because I don’t care what other people think about me and my appearance because the perfect appearance that people are preaching doesn’t exist. It’s fake, it’s manufactured and most of all it’s not natural.’ Jason finished as he kisses your forehead.

‘You shouldn’t have to compare yourself to things that aren’t real when the realest thing you could be in this moment is yourself.’ He utters against your forehead, pressing another kiss there for good measure before pulling away and smiled at you as his thumbs stroked your cheeks. ‘And yourself is the most perfect I’ve ever seen. I love your teeth, I love your laugh but most importantly I love you for you loved me at my lowest. So here I am doing the same for you because you’re deserving of my love and will always will be even when we’re old and grey.’

‘Jason.’ You whispered, finding no other words to say other than his name.

Jason smile widened as he cheekily pinched your cheek with his finger and thumb. ‘I mean it chipmunk or I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.’ He tells you. ‘And I’m more then willing to wait until your comfortable enough to show me that gorgeous smile of yours because your comfortability is always my top priority. So don’t feel pressured into doing so because for you I’d wait forever.’ He adds.

You leaned forward to rest your head against his shoulder and sighed in content. ‘Thank you Jason, this means a lot.’

Jason kisses your head as his hands began rubbing your back. ‘Anything for you chipmunk, anything for you.’

Damian at first wouldn’t understand why you would withhold your laughter or hide it behind your hand, seeing at it was a very normal thing for a person to do.

So whenever you attempted to to hide your mouth behind your hand, Damian grabs ahold of your worst and gently pulls it away from your face, but you immediately moved your head to the side in response to having the primary way of covering up your insecurities taken away.

‘Why do you do this?’ He says.

‘Do what?’ You responded.

‘This! You hide your smile and conceal your laugh behind your hand, why? Is it not a normal reaction to something you find humorous?’ Damian furrows his brows when he noticed a subtle shift in your expression.

‘Not when I do it.’ You murmured, starting to feel the strain in your neck from hiding your smile away from Damian for so long. ‘When I do it it’s…weird.’ You add.

‘Explain.’ Damian demanded, ready to make a mental list of people to pay a surprise visit to for making you feel insecure about your smile and laugh.

You sighed. ‘It’s just that I don’t like the way I smile or laugh, it’s embarrassing and I sound like a dying deal-‘

‘You don’t sound like a dying seal.’ Damian interrupts abruptly as you slowly move your head to face him directly, wondering whether you heard him right. ‘Your smile is nice and I like seeing you smile, it makes me happy to know that you’re happy.’ Damian began, keeping eye contact with you as he spoke. ‘Seeing you smile and laugh also made me realise that I will not tolerate you being anything but happy and I will try to keep making you happy for as long as I live.’ He finished with an air of determination.

You felt your lips twitch upwards in a smile but unlike the other times, you didn’t bother to hide it and Damian was grateful that you did because you did indeed have a very beautiful smile akin to the one he saw in his dreams.

937 notes · View notes

cece693 · 1 month ago

Note

tony stark x male reader who’s kinda shy and quiet but crazy good at math and science and all those equations. something fluffy and cute thank youuuuuuu

Brilliant (Tony Stark x M! Reader)

Announcement: for those who have been following my Velvet Ring trilogy fic, I've created an AO3 account where I intend to flesh out the story. Here's the link! Also, since I'm not smart myself, I didn't go in-depth about science and calculations, so forgive me :(

Tony Stark was many things: a genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist—but being in a committed relationship? That wasn’t exactly the headline he wanted plastered all over the news. Not because he was ashamed—far from it—but because Tony had learned the hard way that the world had a way of ruining what mattered most. And you? You mattered more than anything.

You were everything Tony wasn’t—quiet, thoughtful, reserved. While Tony thrived in the spotlight, you thrived in the solace of your work, diving deep into equations and theories that would leave most people with a headache. You were a prodigy in your own right, a quiet storm of brilliance and ingenuity. The kind of man who didn’t seek recognition, only results. Tony couldn’t help but admire that about you—and, though he’d never admit it out loud, you kept him grounded in a way no one else could.

Tonight, you were sprawled out on the couch in your shared apartment, wearing a faded hoodie and sweatpants you’d stolen from Tony long ago. A notebook rested on your lap, filled with scribbled formulas and diagrams. The room was quiet, save for the occasional scratch of your pen against paper.

The sound of the front door opening broke your focus. Tony stepped inside, tie loosened and suit jacket draped over his arm. He looked tired, but his eyes lit up when they landed on you.

“Hey, handsome,” he greeted, his voice warm as he crossed the room. “What did I say about math after ten?”

You glanced up, rolling your eyes. “You said it’s a house rule. I said it’s not enforceable.”

Tony smirked, plucking the notebook from your hands before dropping it onto the coffee table. Sitting beside you, he wrapped one arm around your shoulders, your head tucked into the crook of his neck. “You were late,” you muttered, resting your head against his shoulder. “Everything okay?”

“Just the usual corporate nonsense,” Tony replied, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “You know how it is—saving the world, keeping the board happy. Exhausting, really. I’m practically a saint.”

You huffed a quiet laugh, but instead of responding, your eyes kept flickering toward the discarded notebook on the table. After a moment, you shifted slightly in his hold, trying to reach for it. Tony groaned dramatically, tightening his grip.

“Oh, no, you don’t,” he said, pulling you closer. “I just got home, and you’re trying to ditch me for math? Do you have any idea how lonely I’ve been? I’ve been deprived of your presence all day, and this—” he gestured at the notebook—“is more important?”

You bit back a laugh, managing to wiggle out of his grasp. “I promise it'll be worth it."

Tony crossed his arms, slumping back against the couch like a sulking child. “Fine, but if I die from lack of cuddles and attention it's on you.”

Grabbing the notebook, you turned back to him, a small smile tugging at your lips. “You look fine. And for the record, this 'math' you're referring to is yours."

That caught his attention. His brows furrowed as he sat up straighter, his earlier theatrics forgotten. “Mine?”

You nodded, flipping open the notebook and holding it out to him. “You mentioned the other night that you were having issues with stabilizing the power output on the Iron Man suit. I’ve been working on it.”

Tony’s eyes scanned the pages, his expression softening with each line he read. Your neat handwriting detailed calculations, theories, and possible solutions. You’d even diagrammed potential fixes, complete with annotations on how they’d improve efficiency. “You’ve been working on this?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “For me?”

“Well, yeah,” you said, shrugging like it wasn’t a big deal. “I know it’s been frustrating you, so I thought I’d try to help.”

For once, Tony Stark was speechless. His eyes flickered between you and the notebook, the weight of your gesture hitting him like a freight train. You’d spent your time—not for your own research or projects, but to solve one of his problems. It wasn’t just the effort or the brilliance of your work—it was the care behind it, the way you always seemed to go out of your way to make his life a little easier.

Tony set the notebook aside, reaching for you instead. His hands cupped your face, his gaze warm and filled with an emotion he rarely let himself feel this deeply. “You’re incredible,” he murmured, his voice thick with gratitude. “I don’t deserve you.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours, soft and full of affection. It wasn’t the usual teasing kiss he’d steal when he was being playful—it was deeper, more vulnerable. A silent thank you, a promise that he’d never take you for granted. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he smiled. “You’re too good to me.”

You laughed softly, your hands resting on his chest. “You’re worth it, Stark. Even if you are a little dramatic sometimes.” Tony chuckled, pulling you into another kiss, his heart full and his mind already spinning with ideas. If this was what it felt like to be loved by you, then he never wanted to let it go.

181 notes · View notes

oblique-lane · 8 months ago

Text

Sniper tf2 mentality

Today I will be talking about Sniper's personality because I often see people portraying him DRASTICALLY different abd I wanted to understand what's going on and why all of the interpretations are correct (in my opinion)

Let's name the most prominent thesises:

Sniper is shy and introverted.

Sniper is unhinged and bloodlusty and is annoyed by people.

Why do i think that these aren't exactly contradictory?

I think at this point it's safe to assume Sniper is autistic (I mean lol this is easier to prove than to disprove). As an autistic person myself, I can see why he could be perceived like that.

Sniper doesn't talk to people and mostly observes them and the situation. Very in tune with his profession. That, however, might be perceived as being shy or very introverted or both. People love talking and expect others to share information, yet Sniper never says half of the things he's thinking about.

But let me tell you, it's NOT because he's shy. If he was shy, it would show in his body language as being stiff and rigid. He's not. His body is pretty relaxed and takes enough space. Still crosses his arms, but in a "don't bother me" way, not a "please don't judge me" way.

He's just disinterested.

I relate to it a lot in real life! People at my job think I'm too shy to talk to them, but no, I just DON'T WANT TO. I'm not scared of any if you, there's just nothing to talk about. I don't know your business, you don't know mine, our interests don't collide. If I talked to you about my interests you wouldn't listen anyway. Small talk? Ew, are y kidding me?

However, I like to listen. I'm an extrovert personally (unexpected huh) so I love being around people, but it doesn't mean I have to takk to them. I'll just sponge the information they are babbling about so I know my community better. When I meet new group of people where everyone knows eachother but me, I'm not going to feel awkward, it's perfectly fine to observe.

Sniper seems to fit into this kind of behaviour too. So he's not shy in a social anxiety sense".

NOW LET'S TALK ABOUT THE BLOODLUST!!

Yeah you all know his in-game voicelines. You feel either horny or assaulted after he rolls these sadistic words on his tongue. Yes I said sadistic, are you gonna argue?

"We professionals don't give speeches we just take a shot" he says in the comics. OH YEAH? IS THAT WHY YOU HAVE THE MOST FUCKING VOICELINES OF ALL OF THEM??

Have you ever noticed how much attention he puts into saying how 'professional' he is? Like, yeah no shit, they all kinda are. But why, unlike other mercs, he insists on calling himself a professional with standards and morals, detached from emotions and feelings, so much???

There's literally no reason to be ashamed of being a killer and to admit that you enjoy killing people, you were hired to Mann Co. for that specifically!!!

My assumption: it's a personal disgust towards himself and his anger issues. I've said it before already and I will again.

His so called 'shadow side' that he suppresses so much. It loves to cause people pain, it loves releasing the inner anger, it is being feral and impulsive in nature. Sniper cannot let himself be like that for whatever reason. He's already built a clear picture of what he is in his head and he doesn't want to destroy that.

The only time he allows himself to be a monster is in the battle because it comes naturally. However, when it's not a situation of adrenaline rush, when people want to talk about his persona face to face, he starts to defend himself and bury his face under the lies he believes in.

And THIS is anxiety. To be scared to be truly perceived. Not like many people tried, but I assume he wouldn't like it.

Bro really thinks he doesn't have feelings lmaoooo imagine being so emotionally immature the only way to process your emotions is to shot a human dead.

So, is Sniper anxious? Yes. Is this social anxiety? No, he's not shy. Is he an unhinged murderer? Yes. Does he identify as one? No. It's really a little bit more complicated than the two thesises from the beginning.

He's a person. Obviously not mentally healthy. High dimensional. Can be potentially broken or healed in terms of a good character study.

I might be very wrong though and most of the assumptions are simply guessing by grasping the patterns, but usually when I analyze someone like thus, it turns out mostly right. But correct me if you feel like it.

#tf2 #tf2 sniper #sniper tf2 #just my rambling #I've been thinking about this mf a little bit too much #He is so NOT self aware #Can anyone see that????#His childhood traumas were never addressed he's just suppressed them #I wish he had more backstory #Bleh

220 notes · View notes

5xlwriter · 2 months ago

Text

Feedist Kinktober: Ex-Model

Part of a series of one-shots in response to @fatguarddog’s Feedist Kinktober 2024 prompts. I see this as a double response to the prompts Runway Ready and Wardrobe Woe.

“Thanks for your time, Brett,” I said, feigning a smile as I looked up from my clipboard. “We’ll call you!”

The muscle-bound hunk nodded cockily and pulled back on his stringy gymrat vest, giving us one last glimpse at his abs in the process before turning and leaving the audition room. His firm glutes shifted in his shorts as he vanished through the doors. I sighed.

Of course, there was no denying that Brett was absolutely gorgeous. He knew it, I knew it, anyone who saw him knew it. And while I might be tempted to call him up for a hookup, there was no way he was getting a callback for this show. He just didn’t have the right look.

The designer, Cherish Misère, was dark, edgy and honestly, kinda goth. There’s a lot that can be achieved with makeup and styling, of course, but nobody’s going to buy that with a jock like Brett. We were looking for skinny guys, with longer slender limbs and angled faces that we could make gaunt with contouring. Brett just didn’t fit the bill - and neither did many of the other hopefuls I’d seen that day. Ugh, Cherish was gonna kill me.

I huffed another deep sigh as I flipped the page on my clipboard, and then was stopped in my tracks at the photo attached to the next profile. That curly brown hair, those sharp, boyish features, those dark, arresting eyes… Tristan!

What a godsend! Tristan was absolutely perfect for the show. Cherish would eat him up, and all the clothes would fit like they were made for him. He and I had been students together. We’d studied Media & Communications and had gotten along well, but drifted in the couple of years since we graduated. He’d always modelled to raise funds when we were at uni, seeming to never need to hold down a real job as a result - but the last I heard, he was now skyrocketing up the corporate ladder, while I was sat here auditioning himbos for D-rate shows at the Fashion Week Fringe. It’s the sort of thing that would usually fill me with so much embarrassment that I’d find an escape route - we gays always compare ourselves to our peers - but in this instance, I didn’t care. I was just glad to finally have found some actual talent! The day was not a complete waste after all.

“Bring in the next one,” I called to my assistant and tried to make myself look as relaxed as possible. I was going to feign surprise, like I’d been caught off-guard. I needed to look busy and important. I sat up straight, eyes fixed on my clipboard until I heard someone shuffle in front of me.

“Hey, Rick!” He announced. His voice was just as I remembered it, but… maybe a touch deeper?

I looked up, ready to burst into a big smile and announce what a pleasant surprise it was to see him again. But then, I really was caught off-guard. My thoughts ground to a halt, leaving an uncomfortable pause as my brain scrambled to register what was going on.

My assistant intervened. “Um, Rick, this is…”

“—Tristan!” I interjected, finally managing the smile I’d been preparing, though I’m not sure how convincing it came off. “What a surprise!”

The surprise was that Tristan was fat. OK, that was maybe a little dramatic - he wasn’t fat fat. But I guessed him to be at least 50 or 60lbs heavier than the 135lbs he listed on his modelling profile - which made him gay fat. I couldn’t believe it!

I was so conflicted. On the one hand, I was a little ashamed to admit that part of me loved seeing perfect Tristan let himself go like this. He had always been nothing but kind to me, so it was completely mean-spirited of me, but I couldn’t help being jealous of all his achievements. It was nice to finally have one up on him, having maintained my own figure - heck, maybe even improved it? - since graduating.

On the other hand, there was no way I could cast Tristan with him looking like this. I could tell just by looking at him that it would take a small miracle to squeeze him into anything Cherish made, which meant I’d just lost my star model just as quickly as I thought I’d found him.

That, I had to worry about later. For now I had to finish this encounter with my old friend, let him down without hurting his feelings, and maybe find out what had caused him to blow up. Maybe he was depressed?

He didn’t look depressed. He was smiling that famously enchanting smile of his, which now showed off the beginnings of a double chin. I made my way over to give him a hug.

“Heh, I thought you didn’t recognise me!” He said as he wrapped his softer arms around me. He was squishy all over.

“Of course I recognise you,” I said, trying to brush it off. “It’s so good to see all of you— I mean, to see you, it’s so good to see you…” Fuck.

Tristan didn’t seem to notice - or if he did, then he didn’t seem to mind. I was happy with either. We pressed on with the pleasantries, Tristan telling me about his latest promotion whilst I did my best to make my own job sound interesting. In truth, it was great catching up with him… Tristan was just so charming, and even with his fuller figure he just exuded a confidence and charisma that was unlike anyone I’d ever met… perhaps even more so then I remembered? He was definitely flirty, and somehow I found myself flirting back despite him no longer being my type.

I wasn’t quite sure how it had happened… Maybe it was witchcraft. Maybe I felt sorry for him. Or maybe it was just that trademark smile that he kept flashing me, undampened by his rounder face…

“I think you’d be a great fit!” I said, the words leaving my mouth without my permission. My brain protested but my lips kept moving. “We’ll see you Monday for the fittings, so we can get things taken in if we need to.” What the fuck was I saying? What was I doing?

As Tristan left with his paperwork, I caught the confused look on my assistant’s face and buried my head in my hands. Cherish was going to fucking kill me.

***

Monday came around fast. In that time, I’d managed to assemble a motley crew of gangly young men to model Cherish’s collection. None of them had walked a runway in their lives, nor did they really have the face card needed for a career in modelling, but they were the best I could rustle up with Fashion Week on the horizon.

We’d started the morning with runway rehearsals and trying to get some charisma out of these boys was like getting blood from a stone. I was relieved that Tristan hadn’t shown up. I figured he had come to the realisation that he quite literally wasn’t a good fit for this, and had decided to silently slink away, saving me a difficult conversation. Now all we had to do was avoid each other for the rest of our lives!

But no, it was never going to be that easy. Tristan arrived late, commanding attention as soon as he entered the studio, smiling and greeting his fellow models as he finished off the remainder of a large smoked salmon bagel loaded with cream cheese. Now there was someone with charisma. He didn’t even try. Nor did he try to excuse his tardiness. “We both know I don’t need practice at this!” he laughed warmly when we had a quiet moment together.

And he was right. He stomped the runway like a pro, showing each of the confused wannabes how it was done. He was the elephant in the room; he didn’t belong; and yet, he was putting them all to shame. I watched bitterly as he walked back up the length of the runway, noticing the slight jiggle and bounce in his body with each deliberate step he made. Ugh, I was not looking forward to this conversation…

Later, as we prepared for the session with wardrobe, I pulled Tristan to one side.

“Listen, Tristan, I need to talk with you,” I said, trying to sound both relaxed and in control. “You know I think you’re amazing, but I don’t think this is the right gig for you…”

Tristan raised an eyebrow for a moment, not sure what to make of what I’d said, before he burst out laughing. “Ha, yeah, good one Rick. Don’t worry, I’ll help the other guys get the hang of it. It’s not rocket science.”

I frowned. “No, Tristan, you don’t understand…” Ugh! I hated this! “I’m serious. I don’t think you’re the right… fit…” I couldn’t stop myself from glancing at his round midsection when I said it - only for a fraction of a second, but Tristan was quick enough to catch it.

“Oh…” he said, looking down at his body for a moment. “You think I’m too fat?” He looked hurt. I’d never seen him not radiating charm and confidence, but in the moment all of that dissipated. He looked like a little lost puppy. “I know I’ve gained a few… I’ve been working flat out at the office… But I didn’t think it was that bad…”

“It’s not!” I blurted out in a panic, desperate to backtrack. “You look great! Better than ever, actually. You look really healthy. That’s super in right now!” It was all lies, and I hated myself for it, but seeing that famous smile return to his face made it worth it.

And so Tristan was whisked off to wardrobe, where we tried to squeeze him into some of the pieces. I thought maybe, if we went with something layered, we could disguise his bulked up body and it might be OK. I was wrong.

Tristan was wearing a black ripped vest, designed to be tight even on a slender model, but practically painted onto him now and emphasising the ball of flesh at his waist. The fact it was ripped made him look like he’d burst out of it. When he moved his arms too high, a little slither of soft flesh would peek out the bottom. He wore a big leather trench coat, down to the floor, which I figured would do a lot of the heavy lifting in making Tristan look presentable - except, we couldn’t fasten it shut over his middle. And on his bottom half, he just wore his underwear and socks, as absolutely nothing that Cherish had designed would slide over his newly thickened thighs and ass.

Fortunately, Tristan may have been oblivious to how much he’d grown, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew this wasn’t going to work. Quietly, he wrestled himself out of the tight garments we’d given him and began to change into his own clothes. I kept my distance and tried to focus on the other boys. Later, as Tristan was leaving, I followed him out.

“Hey Tristan,” I called. “Wait up!” He turned to face me, and was still smiling, but he looked tired and pensive.

“Thanks for the opportunity, Rick! Sorry it didn’t work out.” He said, before surprising me by tapping his softer middle. “Guess I’ve been neglecting the gym!”

“Don’t worry about it, T,” I said. “You still look great and you can definitely work it off — if you want to,” I paused for a moment, hesitating as I decided whether to say what I was about to say. “Or… In the meantime, my friend runs this other company…” I handed him the card.

“Max Macdonald - Plus Size Agency”, Tristan read off the card. He sounded unsure and I thought I might have offended him again, but eventually he pocketed the card. “Thanks, Rick,” he said, giving me a quick hug. “See you around!”

***

As it happened, I never did see Tristan again. It had been four years since our awkward encounter when I found myself in a bar, catching up with my old friend Max, who I also hadn’t seen in years. Being an adult sucked!

Max had been vocally admiring a large man at the bar, telling me in great detail why this stranger’s corpulent body was so superior to the kind of talent I represented. (I’d learned my lesson and played to my strengths, now I had my own agency and was exclusively representing muscle-bound Greek Gods for high-profile names.)

None of it surprised me. Max had always been unashamedly into big guys, despite being in good shape himself. I’d seen him go through many boyfriends - usually they were varying degrees of fat, but sometimes there was a twink or two. They’d soon start to bulk up around him and usually this was when they wised up to his feeder ways and dumped him. He didn’t seem to care, and I always loved that about him. I definitely didn’t share his tastes, but I respected his unabashed commitment to them all the same.

And it seemed to be working out for him! After all, it was his love of big men that had led him to start the plus size agency that was now getting him contracts all over the world.

“Oh my god!” Max said, nearly spitting out his beer as a memory seemed to hit him like a truck. “I can’t believe I didn’t tell you!” He was laughing hysterically and I pressed him urgently for more details. Max was a great storyteller and I found myself eager to hear his tale.

“A few years ago, I was approached by this dude,” he started. I nodded. “He was young, super handsome and charismatic like no one else! He told me you’d sent him.” I paused, knowing instantly that he was talking about Tristan, though I didn’t let on. I wanted to see where this was going.

“He said he was interested in some modelling with me. I told him, ‘look man, you’re gorgeous and you’ve got it, but you’re not exactly plus size’…” He took another swig of his beer. “He was like 200lbs at most. At most!”

I laughed along. “Haha, yeah, sorry about that. I didn’t really know where else to send him. He was too fat for us, but clearly not fat enough for you!” I took a sip of my drink, feeling a little bad for leading Tristan towards more rejection.

“Not then he wasn’t!” laughed Max. I didn’t like the tone in his voice… it was… mischievous. He was relishing in this story. “But I bumped into him a couple of years later at a chub event downtown. I didn’t recognise him at first but he came right over and introduced himself… all 350lbs of him!”

“No fucking way!” My mouth dropped to the floor as my mind raced at a hundred miles an hour, trying to imagine how big a 350lb person would look… How big a 350lb Tristan would look! That more way more than twice the size he’d been at uni.

“Yes way, he was just in a jock strap and a leather harness, shaking and jiggling all over the dance floor. There was no hiding it. He wasn’t the fattest person there by a long shot - a couple of guys were almost twice as big as him - but everyone in the joint wanted to fuck him.” He sat back and smiled smugly, looking very pleased with himself.

I gasped. “You didn’t!”

“I did!” he said, a big grin on his face. “And it was great. Like really great. Man, I had to fucking work for it though. He asked if we could stop for something to eat on the way back to my place - and we did, three times!” He clearly found the story hilarious. “I paid for the lot… Worth it though!”

I was in shock, no longer finding it funny but trying my best to play along. I couldn’t believe that had happened. Maybe Max was just exaggerating. 350lbs? Surely not…

“So, did you end up signing him?” I asked.

“Nah,” said Max, looking a little solemn before finishing his drink. “When I woke up the next day, he’d vanished without a trace and I never saw him again…”

I was about to interject, to empathise for Max, and to tell him how shitty that was, but Max held up a hand to stop me. He wasn’t finished. That big grin had returned to his face and he fished his phone from his pocket.

“I never saw him again until last week…” he said, quickly navigating his home screen to pull up one of his fetish community apps. It didn’t phase me - like I said, Max had always been very open about this stuff.

“I was swiping through the other day when I saw this prize-winning pig…” he was practically giggling as he showed me the phone screen. It was a video, captioned with just two words: “Almost 500lbs”, with a pig nose emoji for emphasis. In the video, an absolutely enormous man was wearing a far too tight black half-zip sweater over a black t-shirt. He was standing close to the camera, with his head cut off by the frame. The strained clothes clung tightly to every curve, roll and fold on his fat frame: his giant tits threatened to burst out of the sweater (the zip of which would never fasten around his fat neck), while about 20cm of pure fat belly hung out the bottom, his gluttony on full view.

Why was Max showing me this? There was nothing to suggest this was Tristan. I became increasingly convinced that this was a practical joke. There was no way that someone who used to look like Tristan now looked like… this.

But then, the whale in the video took a few steps backwards as he jiggled his huge gut for the camera, and his fat face came into view. My world stopped for a moment: it was Tristan, no doubt about it.

Had I seen this veritable blob in the street, I would never have recognised him as my old friend. But I had been primed to see him, and see him I did: even though his sharp and boyish features were now buried under blubbery cheeks, there was no mistaking the charismatic allure of those eyes, which now seemed small and beady in his fat face. All the movement in his gut caused a loud burp to erupt from his mouth, and the smile that followed it as he looked upon his body with appreciation was unmistakably his. Even when being absolutely disgusting, something about Tristan was still so confident, so irresistible… he was magnetic.

“These are the clothes I was wearing when we first met back up,” he said to someone off screen, who chucked back. I recognised that laugh… “Can you believe that was only a year ago?”

“No,” came the familiar voice, as two arms entered the frame and began to pull off Tristan’s clothes, revealing his flabby body in all its perverted glory. The arms and voice belonged to someone older than Tristan by about 15 years. They were reasonably toned and thick with hair, and the strong-looking hands took big handfuls of Tristan’s tits and flesh, shaking it and making his whole body wobble. Then the anonymous figure moved into the screen, kissing Tristan on his big, fat cheek.

I almost dropped Max’s phone and had to do a double take. Was that our fucking professor?! He looked a little older than I remembered him, which was natural, but I was sure it was him.

“…but you’re nearly 100lbs bigger since then, so that’s not surprising,” he said seductively, bringing a cream filled bun up to Tristan’s lips. His mouth opened dutifully and made short work of the pastry, which got swallowed down into his giant gut.

“And why do you think that is?” huffed Tristan, rubbing his belly and stifling another burp. He looked so cocky and sure of himself… more than that, he looked like he was worshipping himself.

“Because,” said our old professor. “You’re a spoiled piggy who gets whatever he wants.”

#gainer fiction #gainer stories #gainerfic #gainerstories #gainerstory #transformation #chubby #fat #fat belly #fat piggy #feedist kinktober 2024 #feedist kinktober #gayfeeder #gainer fic #gayfeedee #gay feedee #gainer story #weight gain story

94 notes · View notes

kaelie-quill · 8 months ago

Text

Writeblr Intro

This feels super awkward to do but I'm putting myself out there for better or worse, so! I go by Kaelie on here, I am 22, Queer, and go by she/her pronouns. I've been on writeblr on and off since I was maybe fifteen but haven't touched it in four years. I am now 22 and for most of those four years I have been plagued by my current WIP, currently called Project Genesis. I've only just recently forced myself to really sit and try to get it out of my head.

I'm kind of ashamed to admit that the only book I ever finished was a warrior cats fan fiction I wrote when I was twelve (It was like forty chapters, I wrote it by hand in a notebook and I let someone take it home and read it one time and it haunts me) Everything since then has either been abandoned and never even made it out of the planning stage.

For the last four years I've been super stressed and in a super bad mental state and had no time to truly sit and try to write anything and if I did I thought it was absolute trash and it kinda made me hate writing. I even stopped reading despite being obsessed with books from the moment I could read, but in the last year and a half I have rediscovered my love for reading and now I want to try writing again.

Project Genesis is meant to be a multi-book high fantasy series with horror elements (maybe, I've not read many horror books and have little experience writing it. Any tips on writing horror, or good horror books to read would be much appreciated) It's got alternating POVs, basically everybody is queer, lots of religious imagery (maybe only if you squint, but I swear sometimes I feel like I'm just ripping off the Bible)

Despite existing for almost for almost four years its hard to describe what it's actually about? The first book at least is a dual POV about one character denying and running from their destiny to avoid becoming a sacrificial lamb, and another character trying to carve out a destiny for himself when he's not meant to have one (not in a 'he's supposed to be dead' way but in a 'you're life isn't supposed to have any affect on the world' kinda way)

It is currently in early planning stages, I'm working on a zero draft and outline before really hunkering down to try a first draft. I don't know how this is gonna go as far as like updates? I'm really just kinda using this as motivation, like if I talk about and say I'm doing it I can keep myself accountable and not just drift away from this like so many others. I expect it to all be horrible but so long as it's something I can go back and make it better. Thanks for reading! 👋🏻

#writeblr #writeblr intro #female writers #queer writers #fantasy

180 notes · View notes

featherandferns · 2 months ago

Text

teaser for my upcoming fic: sugar

feel free to ask me questions about it!!! we're all in mourning so here's some fluff non-canon season 4 jj x reader

content warnings: dr*g use; mentions of s*xual themes

“JJ, I mean it,” you say, your tone losing its humour now. You shoot him a look that you hope will put a pin in it. “We should talk about something else.”

“Alright, alright,” JJ surrenders, holding his hands up and all. He relaxes back against the plastic seat of the boat and you do the same. Your legs outstretch so you can rest your feet on the spot beside him. The two of you catch each other’s gaze and look away, chuckling bashfully like preteens. You take another hit of the joint and watch the smoke fizzle away into the night. “How’d you meet Mark, then?”

You glance at JJ. “A few months back. He’d just moved to Kildare and came by to The Stirring Spoon to help out, and we sort of hit it off.”

“He seems like a nice guy.”

“He is,” you smile. But it fades. The weed tickles at your emotions, pulling the wires as if to wreak havoc. JJ seems to take advantage.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you lie. You take another hit and shake your head, plastering on a smile. “It’s nothing.”

Sighing, JJ folds his arms comfortably over his chest. “Y’know, just cause I know what you look like naked don’t mean we can’t be friends now.”

Barking out a laugh, you shake your head. “There was definitely a better way you could have put that.”

“Probably,” he shrugs, grinning, “but it’s true, ain’t it? We can be friends.”

“Of course we can. We are,” you emphasise.

“So…That means that if you wanna vent about Mr Loverboy to me, you can,” JJ offers.

Laughing, you rock your head back and gaze up at the sky. The stars are out. They shimmer white and crystal in the abyss of the night. “That’d be too weird, I think, but I’ll keep it in mind, thanks.”

“I just got one question. Just one.”

“Go on,” you reluctantly reply.

“Does he say ‘thank you’ after the two of you fuck?”

You burst into fits of laughter. It’s so sudden that it has you doubling over. Tears slip from your eyes and you wipe them away, looking at a grinning JJ. God, you missed him and his twisted sense of humour.

“He just looks like the kinda guy who would!”

“Oh my God, no!” you laugh, shaking your head. Catching your breath, you manage out, “no, he doesn’t say ‘thank you’.”

“Is he the sub then? Cause there is no way that guy is laying his hands on you without written permission.”

“JJ stop! I’m gonna pee myself!” you cackle, kicking your feet. JJ starts laughing too. You open your eyes and make out his face in the lowlight of the pier’s lamp. Wheezing, you catch your breath and calm yourself. “This is exactly what I was talking about.”

“I can give the guy pointers if he needs them,” JJ jokes. Your eyes nearly fall out of their sockets just at the idea though and you point at him in another warning.

“Don’t you dare!” you say, trying not to crack up again. “‘Sides, he doesn’t need pointers.”

“Everybody needs pointers,” JJ says with a roll of his eyes. “John B gave me one of the best pointers.”

“I find that impossible to believe,” you snort.

“He did! It was a tip for kissing. Works like a fucking charm too, I’m telling ya.”

“Mhm, I’ll bet,” you sarcastically return. You glance at the joint to check if it needs tapping off, take another drag, and then look up to find JJ watching you. He hasn’t changed enough for you to forget what that expression means.

“You want me to show you?”

“Show me? How?” you say with furrowed brows. Something in the air shifts with your question. An unspoken thing, an unseeable thing, but something nonetheless. A nervous tickle comes to your throat.

JJ doesn’t reply but he slowly leans over the seat towards you. Your breath catches in your lungs the moment he enters your bubble, breaking some unspoken barrier, and your smile fades away like day into night. You feel as though you’re stuck in place, plastered to the seat, and you’re ashamed to admit that you don’t hate that you are. You’re ashamed that you’re not pushing him away, telling him to buzz off, laughing at his idiocy. You’re ashamed that you’re curious as to what he’s going to do next.

JJ’s close enough now that you can smell him. His cologne mixed with something sweet but tangy, like seasalt and citrus. Something masculine underneath, that has a primal instinct inside of you wanting to claw its way out. Your fingers grip the edge of the seat instead. Your eyes stare into his. You study the laps of green and grey in the sea of blue, mesmerised in the way the night sky reflects in the iris. His gaze darts down to your lips and you have no idea how this happened and how you got here, and everything is blurry but so, so clear from the cannabis as he leans forward, and you can’t move but you should move and you want to move but you don’t, you never want to move again, as his lips brush against yours just so, just enough for you to know that they have, that he has, that he’s real, but that he hasn’t, and that you can take it all back, and that it doesn’t count and it shouldn’t and you shouldn’t but–

#coming soon #obx 4 #outerbanks 4 #outer banks 4 #outerbanks #outer banks #obx #jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj #jj drabble #jj maybank drabble #jj one shot #jj fic #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank fic #teaser #obx fic

90 notes · View notes

moonrisecoeur · 10 months ago

Text

carnage — leon kennedy

author’s note: this is a secondary piece to apathy, another fic of mine!! that fic was mostly a vent fic, as i wrote it to kinda soothe myself and my own worries about how i feel as a person. however!! this fic was requested to be significantly darker and sadder, so if you don’t vibe with that, then i have good news for u !! leon and reader actually lived happily ever after in that universe!! the original intent of that fic is that the reader just has the self perception of a bad person but is actually not at all!! but this fic… is not that haha..

author’s note: if you see typos, no you don’t. they’re not real. this fic is... really messy. i'm kinda ashamed but i've been working on it so long that i need to just post it lol.

word count: 5.3k

content: leon x reader, sub!leon, dom!fem!reader, angst angst angst, biting, hickieys, riding, choking, leon gets lightheaded and passes out, violent language. there's also a reference to a scene from apathy but from more of leon's recollection and memory! :)

warning: this fic is dark content, containing the topics and depictions of emotional abuse, manipulation, love-bombing ish, narcissistic reader, along with dubcon as reader doesn’t listen when leon expresses a boundary around choking.

—

notes:

“you’re killing me here,” he says, a soft tone to his gravel-like voice. he is tired, exasperated. you are ripping him apart, stealing any sense of joy from his aching soul. he gives and gives and gives and he doesn’t know how much longer he has in him before you… before maybe he admits that you were right. maybe you would ruin him.

you don’t know the half of it, you think. maybe i will really kill you one of these days.

—

leon is growing.. tired of you.

not really. that’s a lie. he loves you dearly, so much that it kills him. you refuse to open up to him and he respects your boundaries. he just can’t keep begging you to let him in. he can’t do this forever.

he’s not mad that you’re closed off, that you’re a loner and you’re introverted. he accepts you for what you are. he loves you regardless, but can’t you see this hurts him? can’t you at least make an attempt to make him feel better? pushing him away only hurts him, and why did you agree to a relationship if you knew that all you were going to do is hurt him?

he supposes you warned him. that beautiful night that he convinced you to let him stay in your heart. he looks back at that moment, how you looked close to tears, pushing him back, telling him that you’ll ruin him and anything else you touch, and all he could think about is how badly he wanted to kiss you, to hold you close and wipe away the tears of frustration. he’s fond of that moment, when you decided to stay with him. when you said you’d take your time, move slowly, but you’d eventually let him in. he just had to be patient.

but its been months, and leon hates being wrong, but he might have been that night.

–

leon’s always seen the good in you. he admires how gentle and sweet you are. you say it’s just a facade, and you know what? he doesn’t believe you. he knows you’re trying to protect yourself, but you’re lying. the version of you that you think is the real you is actually the facade. he knows it. he believes it, believes in you.

“i will begin to despise you if i let you in, you realize that, right?” you said to him that night, and he just shook his head, smiling. he adores you, almost amused at how you were making yourself out to be an awful monster in hopes he’d have understood that he could never fix you.

“and i will adore every moment of your resentment,” he said, and then followed it up with a whisper, under his breath, one you might not have heard, “i will let you ruin me.”

your touch is lethal, that much he’s certain of. he knows you’re not trying to hurt him, he’s convinced it's not in your nature to be intentionally cruel, “i won’t get better. i won’t change for you. this is what you’re stuck with.”

but what was he supposed to do? listen to you? heed your warning? he’s too foolish, too lovesick.

“it’s okay,” he reassures, reciprocating your harsh touch with his gentle one, fingertips making acquaintances with the way your skin feels in his grasp, the warmth of your touch. he’s starting to feel like this beautiful monster in front of him is a lot more human than she feels, “i like you as you are.”

leon doesn’t quite remember when you got so overbearingly possessive. maybe you were a little controlling, a little too demanding. it didn’t really make sense because anytime he tried to be possessive over you, you hated it. you certainly weren’t clingy. leon learned to control the instinct, the one that screamed in his head that you were his. he gets it. you’re independent, not exactly into the jealous boyfriend type, sure. it only hurts his ego a little bit.

he doesn’t really even remember when your behavior started going downhill. it was just like.. one day, he woke up, and you had left. not actually, you were just outside, but it feels symbolic somehow. he calls your name, and you don’t answer. he takes a couple steps closer, but he gets this eerie feeling he’s stepping into dangerous territory. he wonders if he should turn back, give you some time and let your soul come back to your body.

“i don’t love you,” you said to him that day.

it shattered him momentarily, but he knew your ways. he was aware of how you act and talk, your bluntness didn’t even surprise him anymore. he learned not to try and fight you on this stuff anymore.

that’s not true.. is what he wanted to say.

“…since when?” is what he actually ended up saying.

you sigh, “i don’t know. i just woke up today and i realized i didn’t love you anymore.”

“do you… feel love for someone else?” he asks, but that’s not what he’s really asking. leon would never believe you if you said you cheated on him. you don’t even like people. you could count on your hand the amount of people you liked to talk to.

leon maintains being one of them, of course. how could he believe that you made a connection with another man when you can only tolerate him?

so, what he’s really asking is ‘do you… feel anything right now?’. sometimes emotions go away. sometimes you find yourself sitting outside in the early morning even though it’s cold and you’re shivering, wondering why you don’t love your boyfriend anymore.

he puts his jacket over your shoulders. that feels symbolic somehow too.

it usually passes, but there’s something so final in your tone. like… for the first time, leon was worried you’re being truthful. he was worried you didn’t love him.

he had every reason to be. you used to pull away and then come right back to him, and now… you almost seem to resent him. crazy, it’s almost like you said this would happen. he hates that he was wrong about you, he hates that you were right.

you flinch away when he touches you sometimes. your words are harsher than usual, more venomous, more lethal. you’re slipping away from him, you’re running away, and he’s begging for you to come back to him. just come back to him.

and even now, he looks at you and you aren’t the girl he fell in love with. but maybe you never changed. maybe he has just been blind.

maybe you were exactly who you said you’d be.

did you even want him? or would you get off anyway on taunting him?

did he mean anything to you?

“i am your… sculpture. your muse. i am everything you made me to be,” he says softly, one day during a vicious argument (only one of you is truly venomous), his eyes still red from the tears you made him spill, “if you do not like me, or if you don’t like what i’ve become, it is your own fault. i am only what you… did to me.”

he says pretty words that tug on your heartstrings if only to get some kind of empathy out of you. you’d normally scoff, spitting at him that he was a broken mess before you fixed him up, made him useful to somebody.

“you act like i ruined you. like i made you worse. i did not drag you down with me. we were both broken. both disasters who just wanted to be loved,” you know you’re bullshitting just for pity points. doesn’t change the face that leon almost falters. almost gives in, lets you win. you were right, in a way. you were just being intentionally oblivious.

“me wanting to be loved was… so much different. i wanted to be cherished and…held dear to you. you wanted a trophy that would make you feel better about yourself.”

“i am not the monster you say i am,” you scowl, finally he sees your harshness, your cruelty, and your dismissiveness in full force. how was he so blind?

“you’re right…” he says, “you… are so much worse.”

“then push me off of you, make me leave,” you groan, pinning him down like a caged animal.

“i’m not… i..” i stutters, looking up the ceiling, “oh my god..”

“i am the only god you get to call out for,” you say as you press kisses to his collarbone, “i hold that power over you. i am your god.”

“i won’t worship you anymore,” he gasps, but his hands reach up to hold your hips, latching onto you for support and intimacy, like you are everything he’s ever needed and he despises you for it, “not what you’ve become. i can’t accept this…. version of you.”

“this is me, leon,” your voice is distant. resigned. he’s given up on you. and you’ve given up on him.

so why do you demand his reverence so desperately? if you didn’t want him to run, why didn’t you treat him right in the first place?

“i love you, you know,” he says, tears pricking at his eyes, “i am just your design, molded to how you wanted me, but you designed me to love you… so that’s what i do.”

“i didn’t ask you to destroy yourself for me.”

“but i did anyway,” he closes his eyes, breathing ragged, “but i did and i did it because i loved you. i did it so that maybe one day you wouldn’t run away from me if i loved you too much. i.. i don’t act overbearing or clingy like i am inside because i am horrified of you leaving me. if i try too hard, if i want you too much, if am too desperate for your company… i will lose you. i can’t live with that.”

“then why do you call me worse than a monster? if you need me so badly?”

“because i.. i wanted you to destroy me and build me anew. recreate me in your image so you could have exactly what you wanted. make me exactly what you wanted!” he’s desperate for you to understand, but you never will. you don’t know desperation like he does, “i.. i just made the naive assumption that you would love your creation more than you loved what i used to be. that somehow.. if i let you ruin me, you’d finally love me.”

“i do love you,” you whisper, voice heavy with a tragedy you are all too familiar with.

“no… you don’t love anyone,” he bites, his teeth grazing his own lip like he would draw his own blood, “not even yourself. you’re incapable.”

“then it is your fault..” you say, cruelty laced into your voice, but how could you not be cruel when leon’s finally biting back? “you did this to yourself. you ruined yourself for someone you knew couldn’t love you.”

he feels broken. betrayed. how is this his fault? how could you hate him so intensely? how could you want him to suffer? do you enjoy watching him suffer? is that the only way he can make you happy anymore?

is that the only thing you want from him? his suffering? his tears?

does he give that to you? just… as one final way to make you happy? he’d ruin himself again and again to please you if you said so.

he’d give you anything.

you push him down, and he stumbles back onto the bed, looking up at you nervously. he notices the look in your eyes, the look of possession, you see him like an object or a toy. maybe he is. a trophy. you look at him like he’s something that makes you feel proud to carry around. leon kennedy. he’s a survivor, he's a killer, been through literal hell on earth. yet… your hands on him make him feel weak. he feels like he’s 21 again, on that bridge holding onto the last girl that dug her nails into his heart.

“you’re fucking mine,” you growl in his ear, and he gasps and shudders, when did you get so close to him? you can’t put your hands on him like this, you can’t do this, his mind will go numb to the pain you cause and suddenly he’ll be held beneath you, inescapably yours.

“you.. you need to… oh my god..” he was so close to saying it. so, so close. he tries so hard to push you away. to get you off of him. not in a way that he couldn’t stop you if he really didn’t want this. but that's just it; he’s trying to convince himself that he doesn’t want you for his own sake.

you make it so hard to hate you, truly.

“you’re mine,” you growl in his ear, your nails digging into him like claws of a predator into its most delicious prey, “i own you. say that back to me.”

he cries like a baby, hating that he was naive enough to believe that the devil could love him, she could never love him and he could never please her enough to make her stay, “i’m yours, and.. and you own me,” he says, sniffling. he buries his head into the pillow. you push him, hold him down like he’s your captive. he might as well be.

“and that means i own your pretty body, doesn’t it?” you smirk, god this control over him has always been addicting. you.. really own him.

“y-yeah..”

“that means i can do whatever i want with you, doesn’t it? i can break you in every way possible, like a girl scribbling on and cutting the hair of her barbies. you don’t exist outside of me, outside of my pleasure.”

“fuck, you’re so hot when you’re sad..” you groan as you press kisses to his hip, and he didn’t even realize you had gotten his shirt off and his pants pulled down. he must have dissociated again. he sighs, upset but unable to will himself up to stop you.

at least you’re trying to please him, he supposes. your hands wandering all over him makes him feel alive, but he wonders if you’re imagining wrapping your hands around his throat and squeezing until he stops moving. maybe you would take a liking to killing.

or maybe it’s just because it’s leon. leon is your weak, pathetic boyfriend that you’ll play with like a ken doll until you’re bored of him, and then you’ll either put him out of his misery or leave him to rot. maybe murder is mercy for him. the worst part is he looks just like a ken doll, blue eyes and blonde hair, except he’s a bit more broken. a bit scarred. damaged. is that why you don’t want him? he’s not perfect enough?

and then it happens.

everything stops, his breath catches in his chest, he flinches almost like he’s surprised you still had it in you, but you kiss him. it’s not possessive and dark and commanding like he expects, like he’s begun to tolerate, but it’s you. it’s your softness, hidden underneath, that gentle lover that he misses so desperately. she’s back. she’s real again.

you rest your forehead against his as you pull away from the kiss, leon chasing your lips briefly before remembering this is your moment, at your pace, but he’s looking up at you like you put the stars in the sky, his eyes sparkling with magic and passion and hope he hasn’t felt in a while.

“come back to me..” he whispers gently, “i miss you.”

“i.. know,” you frown, and leon can tell you feel guilty. you are the monster in his nightmares, but you are also his guardian angel, “i told you, leon-”

“i know you did, i- i don’t want to fight with you right now,” his eyes flutter closed as you press your lips to his forehead, god he feels so cared for in moments like these.

but he knows they’re not real. he knows this version of you isn’t real, that your love is a false pretense and he is a fool for being swept off his feet by such an obvious facade. a monster that loves you is still a monster.

and leon knows it. knows that you love him, despite his insecurities and doubts. maybe it was safer or easier to ponder whether or not you loved him, to listen to you when you said you didn’t, instead of realizing that you did… just not enough.

he feels your grasp on his waist, the way your hands and mouth ravage his body. he knows you’re possessive, but it still shocks him how truly cruel you are.

“please…” he whimpers, “be gentle with me..”

“ah, leon.. survived the apocalypse but can’t handle his girlfriend biting him a little too hard..” you chuckle, and it’s soft and you’re being sweet with him again and everything is okay.

“don’t be like that, come on. it still hurts,” his voice is shaky, making you smile. such a sadist.

“don’t be such a baby,” you tease.

“just- okay, fine, but i don’t want any hickies or bite marks or anything. n-not anywhere visible, at least,” he stumbles when your fingertips drag across his collarbone, “please, baby. i need to hide them, my… my coworkers will get worried.”

he sees it in your eyes. mercy. begging always saved him.

“hmm… open your mouth,” you say, and he’s not even trying to follow the command, but the surprises causes his jaw to drop slightly, and you lean closer, before spitting directly into his mouth.

your saliva tastes like your favorite flavor of gum, and leon smiles as he recollects that fact. it’s sweet of you to only do something like that to him when it wouldn’t be entirely unpleasant. maybe you didn’t think it out that far, but he likes to think you did. he wants to think you were considerate. he groans as he swallows it without even having to ask, almost sounding dehydrated, like you are his lifeline.

your intentions, while a tad bit humiliating, are not cruel. but again, you’re showing possession. leon is yours to do whatever you please with. it’s marking your territory, in a way.

“thank you..” he shudders, hands clutching your arms, keeping you close. he’s not truly grateful, but he’s learned his place.

“you’re welcome,” your tone is condescending, but leon’s thoughts are too far away to realize that. all he knows how to do anymore is be obedient.

a brief silence settles for a moment, as you rest atop of him, gazing at him like a predator does their next meal.

“do you… want to fuck me now?” he asks awkwardly, cringing at how completely uncool he is.

maybe someone else would laugh at his lack of charisma, but you just smile softly.

“is that what you want?” in truth, he does want this. he does want you. and he prides himself on giving you whatever you want, everything, absolutely anything. it’s too bad all you know how to do is take.

he sighs, feeling heavy-hearted and drained. he can’t pinpoint why, “i love you. do whatever you want.”

you blink, and he wonders for a moment if you feel guilty again, but part of him can tell you’re not.

you narrow your eyes. he seems.. broken down by this point. honestly, ‘broken down’ might not exactly be the right wording. ‘broken in’ might be more appropriate. like a pair of boots that are only comfortable once you rough them up a little.

it’s at that moment that he realizes the softness he saw in you just now is fading away rapidly, replaced again by the monstrous beast that is his darling lover. at least she’s familiar now. it’s his fault. you are exactly who you said you were. he should have believed you.

he thinks this is it, that this is the last time he’ll get to have you before you leave him. you steal all of his sunshine like a parasite, robbing him of all of his life energy and taking it for yourself. the only way you can feel whole anymore is to take leon apart and use him for everything his mortal body and soul has to offer.

he remembers being the light in your life, cheering you up when you were down. you were his moon, and he shined his light onto you like the sunlight gives way to moonlight.

but that isn’t real anymore. you aren’t the damaged but loving person he used to know.

“are you… going to leave after?” he asks. he’s pouting ever so slightly but he doesn’t realize it.

you just gaze at him, eyes soft but knowing, and he can’t help but crying. he tries so hard not to be clingy or ‘too much’. makes himself less and less to make you comfortable.

“please don’t leave me,” he cries, “please, i can’t bear to think about it. my… my love, please..”

part of him feels like if he lets you leave again, you won’t ever come back.

he can’t understand why he’s so desperate for you to stay. he feels your hand around his neck as you lean in close to kiss his shoulder, you don’t squeeze but your presence is known and feared just like you like it, your other hand falling lower and lower until…

leon can’t fathom just how wrong he was about you, about everything in general, but what hurts the most is putting the timeline together. it starts with him realizing he loved you. you realizing you loved him. the gentle, sweet months he got to spend with you. sure, you were unconventional, but he’s not the nuclear family type either.

to him realizing you didn’t love him, actually.

to then realizing that you did love him, but not enough to change for him. that one hurt the most. knowing that you’ll always choose your comfort over him.

and to finally coming to terms with the fact that your love is strong and real but it is rotten, that you and your heart are corrupting him and made something tragic out of him.

he sighs, letting it all happen. he might as well let you have what you want. he feels your hand rubbing against the fabric of his pants over his crotch, teasing him.

he’s almost happy you’re using him one last time for sex. it’ll give him something to distract his mind from the sadness that’s creeping into his heart.

“i think… my boy needs to feel good.. so he can stop thinking sad thoughts..” your free hand pulls his sweats down and feel him up over his boxers, and he hates that he’s getting hard. that he likes this. he likes being taken by the big, bad monster.

he lets you touch him, lets you strip him down both metaphorically and physically, until he’s bare, a blank canvas ready to be ruined. he has literal scars from bites that drew blood, teeth bared into his skin like you’re trying to consume him alive.

maybe you are.

this isn’t intimate sex between two lovers. this is carnage. this is ravaging, taking what is rightfully yours. it may not be violence in its usual form, but you are no less deadly.

you really can’t help yourself when you have the urge to grab his throat, can you? hold his life in your hands, why don’t you?

he wants to make love to you, to hold you close like he used to, fuck you until your mind let go of its need to be in control, to be apathetic and composed and cold and just let you be the soft soul he knows is in there, fucking somewhere in there.

instead of that, he gets something completely different. claiming. ownership. you mark your territory like an violent dog, biting and scratching and ruining him until everyone else in his life got the hint that he wasn’t allowed to play with anyone else.

you’re violently possessive, that’s the only way he can put it. and even now, when he should be kissing you and moaning in your ear about how good you feel around his cock, how perfect you are for him, how he wants to be good for you, exactly what you want in your man, he.. can’t.

all he can do is whine and whimper like an injured puppy.

instead of kissing you, he’s begging for mercy. instead of making love to you, he’s lost in a daze of pain, mixed in with the pleasure of his cock buried inside of you. your teeth fucking hurt when you bite him like a damn vampire. just like the last time you were in a possessive mood, you bite him hard enough to make him bleed.

“i… i love you,” he whimpers after the fact, his voice is shaky like he’s desperate, “i love you but you’re… i don’t like it when you’re like this”

“who do you belong to?” you ask, suddenly.

it feels unrelated, but even though leon’s eyebrows furrow at the question, he responds, like it’s an instinct, or rather more it’s a response he’s gives hundreds of times, “you. it’s.. always gonna be you.”

“… i love you too, you know. sometimes i think you don’t believe me,” rich coming from the ‘i don’t love anybody’ girl, he thinks, “but i do. i’m always gonna love you. you just don’t like the way i love you.”

“because the way you love me is killing me.”

“i’m not a killer. you asked me to let you in. this is the real me, leon. if you don’t like what you see… then don’t look.”

“i do but i-”

“you wish you were the exception to the rule. you want to be the reason i change. honestly, leon? i’ll never get better. and i told you that months ago, but you never listened. you thought you could fix me.”

“you aren’t broken,” he whispers.

“then why do you insist on changing me?”

he scoffs, “that’s rich coming from you.” he knows you’ll get annoyed at him for his sass, but he can’t help it. you’re a violent hypocrite and he adores you, but he can’t ignore the irony of you feeling forced to change.

you tighten your grip on his neck, and he should have told you months ago but he hates being choked. brings up old memories that he’d rather not remember. he doesn’t really know why he lets you do it, why he tolerates it. maybe it’s because you seem so pleased to be in control of his life like that. he can’t afford to piss you off too much. you might like murder a little too much.

“why do you insist on fixing me?” you ask again. loosing up your grip to let him talk.

“i… i never wanted to fix you. i just wanted you to love me. i wanted… to make you happy.”

he lets out the cutest gasp when you finally use your free hand to pull his cock free, not even bothering to pull his boxers down all the way.

“awh, you’re still so soft, baby. do you not want me?” you taunt him, and he quickly tries to reassure you, shaking his head.

“n-no! i do! i want you, just.. just give me a second..” he stutters helplessly, but his voice gives out when you lean down to kiss his hip bone, and then your lips trail down lower and lower, adoring his thighs with the remnants of your lip gloss, “oh god…”

he’s pretty. pretty like a prey animal.

you decide that maybe its not fair to him that he’s almost butt naked and you’re still fully clothed, so you undress too. leon appreciates that you do it to please him.

“i… you’re so fucking pretty,” he whimpers, begging you to kiss him again. can he just pretend like you’re making love? instead of… whatever this is?

his cock isn’t super big, so it’s not hard to fit inside, especially since he’s just barely getting hard. seeing your body was enough to get him going. he likes everything about you. every beauty mark or mole or freckle, every scar and each divot and curve, he adores you.

your smile isn’t appreciative. it is greedy. avaricious. you.. need more of him.

“you feel… so perfect inside of me..” you groan, the grip on his neck tightening as he obediently rocks his hips up to fuck you. his hands grasp at the sheets, white knuckles displaying how tense he feels.

a shaky, almost fearful moan escapes his throat, “please.. please don’t squeeze that hard.”

again, leon doesn’t like being choked.. so many times he’s almost been killed, and yet… you don’t seem to care. you don’t squeeze hard enough to make him pass out, but he’s getting lightheaded, so much so that you’re having to pick up the slack of bouncing on his cock since he’s unable to keep pace. he just lays there helplessly while you steal away his life.

“leon..” you tease, holding in a giggle, and trying to stir his attention, but his eyes get cloudy and he can’t focus on you, can’t look you in the eye meaningfully.

all he can respond with is a half-hearted attempt at a ‘huh?’. it’s honestly kind of cute how easily fucked out he gets. you ease up, and he breathes deeply for the first time in a couple minutes, gasping out ‘thank you’s like you just saved his life instead of almost killing him.

“i’m sorry you got stuck with someone like me, baby,” you murmur, you’re not really sorry. tears fall down his cheeks, and you lean down to lick them up like a dog drinks her water. he cringes, disgusted at the feeling, but you own him so intrinsically.. how could he ever stop you from doing exactly what you wanted to him? this was your world. he just lived in it.

—

leon wakes up the next morning, expecting to be alone in your shared bedroom after you had left. you’re not completely awful, you clean him up and bandage any cuts after you finished with him… and leon realizes he doesn’t exactly remember anything after you choking him a little too aggressive, he must have passed out. did he cum even while unconscious? he’s almost impressed.

he doesn’t remember you leaving, just the looming thought in his mind that you will leave. there was no doubt about it.

you’re not there, clearly, and he doesn’t hear you anywhere in the bathroom or in the kitchen. the silence is deafening.

maybe you’re on a walk to clear your head?

maybe… you’re really gone.

but your stuff is still at home, so he thinks you might still stay. he cant decide if that’s a good thing. sure, he can’t exist without you, so codependent it’s pathetic, but… you’re not exactly good for him. maybe it’d do him some good to pull himself together and get over you. if he even can.

he loves you. helplessly. desperately. but you love his pain more than you love him. that’s the truth and there’s no denying that. you are.. exactly who you said you’d be. it’s his fault for not believing you.

157 notes · View notes

luna-naoffcial · 4 months ago

Text

My Crimrinal Lover

—PART ELEVEN

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! Reader

Warning: Foreplay Smut!

PART ONE || PART TEN || PART TWELVE ||

Your eyes fluttered open seeing your husband was already awake, his honey coloured gaze meeting your (e/c). "Good morning, dear," Alastor greeted you with a gentle smile. "Were you watching me sleep?" you said, your voice still laced with drowsiness. "I couldn't help but admire the sight before me," he replied, his words filled with affection. You giggled at that before letting out a yawn. "You're still tired, aren't we?" Alastor teased. "Well, we did get back late," you mumbled.

"Correction, I carried you back." Alastor reminded you. "I had a little to drink." "Love, I had de ja vu from when we were 19. You once again tried to climb me, I didn't mind since you're my wife now but again I stopped it because you simply were not sober to consent, and I'd hate for your first time be like that." "I need to stay away from alcohol." You groaned. "Occasionally, alcohol reveals one's true thoughts, my dear. Either you're a horny drunk or simply you just can't keep your hands off me." Alastor said with a grin. You felt your cheeks heat up. "And what makes you think that?" "You're always asking me to grab you. Does the thought of me touching you turn you on?" Alastor then taunted.

You were left speechless and flustered. "Just tell me what you want, darling. I'm happy to fulfil your needs." He then whispered in a seductive tone. You swallowed the lump forming in your throat. You wanted to say it but felt embarrassed. He wasn't wrong. You want him to touch you to explore every depth of your body. How he had this confidence baffled you. But then he was a very confident cocky man, when he wants something he will make sure he knows what he is doing. "Don't be embarrassed, darling. I'm not asking to have sex with you if that's not what you want. It doesn't have to be straight away just because we're married now." Alastor reassured with a smile.

"I guess I kinda want to know... how it feels to uh be touched in a pleasurable way as... I've never masturbated before." You admitted. Alastor had to hold back the shocked expression. "I know... it's embarrassing, 22, and I don't know what it feels like to be pleasured in any way." You shamefully admitted. "Darling, masturbation and sex is a choice, not a must. Just because we're married don't think you need to do any of that to please me. I want you to be comfortable, not forced." Alastor said with reassurance.

"It's not that I don't want to do it. I do... it's just... I'm nervous and I.. I don't know what I'm doing..." "You think I do? Love is all about exploring. Everyone enjoys different things, ma chérie."

"I'm so uneducated, gosh!" You nervously giggled, smacking your hands over your face. Alastor pulled your hands away, smiling. "We can educate each other, although I haven't experienced sex myself, I have masturbated." He truthfully said.

"Well, that does make me feel a bit better." You nervously mumbled, knowing he hasn't had sex with another woman as you were ashamed to ask. Alastor found that amusing, yet he couldn't help but gaze at you with admiration. You took a moment to contemplate the situation.

"Can you..." Alastor raised an eyebrow, patiently waiting for you to complete your sentence. "Touch me." You said, feeling your cheeks burn. "Touch you where?" Alastor then teased. "Stop. I'm getting flustered." You whined as Alastor chuckled. "I can darling, only if you want this, though." Alastor asked once more. "I do.". "Well then, since our schedule is clear, we might as well begin our first lesson," Alastor remarked playfully, eliciting a smile and laughter from you.

For a brief moment, your gazes locked. Alastor closed the distance between you, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. You reciprocated, surrendering to the intoxicating sensation of his lips enjoying this alone.

You felt his hand stroke up your thigh, going under your nightgown, almost shivering at his hand being close. Alastor slowly rubbed over your covered sex feeling the piece of material that was in the way. He gently withdrew from the kiss and momentarily gazed at you with a serious look. "Are you certain that this is what you want, my dear?" You nodded, biting your bottom lip staring into his eyes and how they've darkened and clouded with lust. Alastor hand slowly slipped inside your underwear, feeling the contact of his fingers rubbing up your folds. "You're already wet for me darling, it seems you've been wanting me to do this for a while now, hmm?" He whispered teasingly, watching your reaction as you wanted to just hide your face.

"A few years." You shamefully admitted. "Well, I'm glad you only want me to... help you." He said. Alastor found the buddle of nerve slowly teasing you with a slow circular motion. "Oh..." You suddenly gasped. "Does that feel nice?" Alastor hummed. "It...um...uh." You stuttered with your words getting lost to the new founding feeling. Alastor rubbed a bit faster. You felt yourself arch your back as your jaw hung low. "Oh my gosh," you cried out. Alastor was enjoying the sight of your pleasand begging. Only he was able to make you feel this way. "Don't stop." You suddenly moaned. Alastor almost... almost lost control hearing your moan. "Oh darling, you don't know what you're doing to me right at this moment." He chuckled darkly, feeling his pants tighten on him. You shamefully started thrusting your hips up without your control, feeling something building up in your core. "Oh gosh, what's happening." You cried. "You're about to have your first orgasm my dear. Let it out for me." Alastor whispered lowly.

Your body listened to his command as youcried out in ectasy, feeling your sex convulse from your orgasm breathing heavily from it. "There we go..." Alastor cooed. He slowly pulled his hands away, bringing his fingers to his mouth. "Mmm, you taste good too." "Oh Alastor stop I'm gonna be a permanent tomato today." You panted out blushing once again. "Oh my darling wife, you enjoyed it, did you not?" Alastor taunted. "Gosh, that felt way too good. Then I expected it to be." You admitted. "Good." Alastor pecked your lips. "I'm gonna take a cold shower now." He mumbled. "I won't be long." It took you a moment to think about why he is having a cold shower.

"Al?" Alastor paused at the bedroom door, glancing at you with a raised eyebrow. "Can I help you with it?" "Help with what?" Alastor's brow furrowed in confusion. Your gaze lowered to his crotch area as he now caught on. He was momentarily surprised when you made that suggestion. "My dear, I couldn't possibly ask you to do such a thing." "You said this was our first lesson. I want us both to be a part of it," Alastor felt his cock twitch when you said that. What are you doing to me woman, he thought.

"Hand or mouth?" You suddenly asked. His eyes widened in surprise at that. You couldn't help but feel a little amused at his reaction, considering it a small payback for his earlier actions. "U-Uh..." "From that reaction, you want my mouth don't you?" The abrupt surge in confidence was unexpected, leaving even Alastor momentarily at a loss for words.

You approached your husband who was still standing where he was, you slowly got down on your knees and started pulling his pyjama pants with his boxer down. "Darling..." Alastor warned. "Yes?" You smiled innocently up at him. "You don't have to do this...." He whispered. "I know, but I want to please my husband too, you can experience something for the first time as well." You said. Alastor was still lost for words, unable to adequately express the profound depth of love he held for you. You slowly lowered your gaze staring down at a cock for the first time as it leaked some pre cum.

Taking it in your hand, you slowly brought your mouth over the tip using your tongue to lick some of it up. This made Alastor gasp from the contact. "Fuck." He hissed under his breath. Satisfied you took more of him in your mouth surprising yourself as well as him. "Oh gosh, how -" Alastor could barely speak as he moaned, feeling your mouth work up and down his length.

Alastor threw his head back, enjoying this more than his hand job running his hand through your hair. He slowly looked down to see your pretty mouth take him in whole. "Gosh I wanna fuck that innocent little mouth of yours." Alastor growled feeling himself reaching his high. You felt himself about to cum encouraging to suck more faster, Alastor was thrusting more into your mouth clouded by the pleasure. "Fuck, fuck." He panted, suddenly Alastor gasped out a moan as you felt his seed fill the back of your throat.

Alastor was panting trying to regain his composure feeling a bit lightheaded. You slowly pulled out and stood yourself back up. "How was that?" You whispered as you stared into his half lidded eyes. "My dear, you do surprise me." He chuckled out breathlessly. "Glad I can return the favour." You said being rather impressed with yourself. "Oh darling, you may do that whenever you wish, and I shall not express any objections." Alastor chuckled as he gently drew you close, embracing you in a tender and affectionate kiss. You couldn't help but smile into it, pleased you were able to satisfy your husband..

"Hello, mother," Alastor greeted, kissing his mother's cheek respectfully. "How are you, my dear? How is your wife?" She smiled warmly, her eyes twinkling with adoration. Alastor's cheeks flushed slightly. "Mother, please," he chuckled nervously. "I was merely hinting if I might be blessed with a grandchild in the near future." "There is no news of that nature to share at this time," Alastor replied. "Well, Alastor, I must say, I am quite proud of the gentleman you have become," Tara remarked with a hint of pride in her voice. You entered Alastor's childhood home, knocking politely on the door. "Hello, Tara," you greeted warmly.

"Oh, my dear, please call me 'Mama' now. We are family, after all!" she exclaimed, embracing you with open arms. You laughed softly, accepting her affectionate gesture. "Thank you, Mama. I am doing well. And yes, before you ask, Alastor treats me wonderfully. I am truly fortunate to have him as my husband," you replied, turning to Alastor with a loving smile before she could question how he's been treating you. "Oh, wonderful news! I'm so happy this has finally happened. Watching you two fall in love had been remarkable to witness from Maria and I. You two were definitely made for each other." Tara proudly said

"Now that we are both present, I was contemplating -" As Tara was making her way towards the kitchen, her speech began to slur, and her body abruptly collapsed onto the floor. You stared with wide eyes in a state of shock, while Alastor swiftly rushed to her assistance. "Mother!" Alastor exclaimed in a tone filled with concern. "Tara?" You stuttered out.

.......

You slowly crouched down beside Alastor, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Alastor, sweetheart..." After the funeral, everyone respectfully departed for their homes. However, Alastor remained at the burial site, unable to bring himself to leave the place where his mother had been laid to rest. He was gazing at her gravestone, reading the epitaph repeatedly. His face was devoid of any emotion, and it caused you concern. Your cheeks were still damp from your tears. "Let us return home..."

"I would be grateful if I could have some time to myself." Alastor responded calmly. "Al -" "(Y/N), for your own safety, I would prefer to be left alone." Alastor stated more sternly, his gaze shifting towards you.

His eyes, usually filled with warmth and life, now held a profound emptiness, devoid of any light or emotion. "Sure... sweetheart. Just... please be safe, ok?" You said. Alastor averted his gaze, directing it back to the gravestone of his mother. With a sigh, you rose to your feet and departed, leaving Alastor to grieve alone. As you made your way back home, you gently closed the door and slid down against it. "Oh, dear god... why did you take her from us so soon?" you uttered in a choked voice, breaking down into tears.

The loss of Alastor mother felt like losing your mother all over again. You recalled how Alastor had held you all night, and now you felt guilty for leaving him alone, even though that was what he had wished for. After what appeared to be an eternity, you managed to regain your composure. You stood up, removed your coat, and kicked off your shoes. You decided to get a glass of water. As you raised it to your mouth, the door slammed open, and Alastor entered. You froze, your eyes widening in shock at the state your husband was in. Alastor entered the room covered in the blood of his victim with the knife still in his hand as he appeared to be in distress, pulling at his hair.

You gently placed your glass down and approached him with caution. "Al... Dear," you whispered softly. Alastor slowly locked eyes with you feeling a sense of comfort as he quickly paced dropping the knife, He sank to his knees, embracing your waist as tears streamed down his face for the first time today.

You felt your heart sink into your stomach frozen in the spot as you felt your own tears well up again hearing Alastor, with tears streaming down his face, let out a sorrowful cry for the first time as his forehead was resting against your stomach. Slowly, you threaded your fingers through his brown locks, seeing nothing but a broken boy who had just lost his mother. You were not bothered by the blood now staining your outfit as Alastor had just lowered his shield, revealing his vulnerability.

Next day

Your eyes fluttered open, and you frowned slightly. You could not recall falling asleep the previous night. As you found yourself in the centre of the room, you gently turned your head to the right and observed Alastor slumbering peacefully next to you. His eyes gradually opened, and for a fleeting moment, he appeared disoriented until his gaze met yours. "Good morning," he mumbled. You slowly sat up with a groan from the hard flooring. That was not a restful experience. "Poor decision-making on our part," Alastor said, also groaning from the pain as he sat up.

At that moment, he observed that his body was now covered in dried blood from the person he gruesomely murdered last night. As he glanced in your direction, he observed that you were covered in the blood as well. For a brief moment, he experienced confusion until he recalled the events that transpired last night.

"Darling, I've ruined your outfit." Alastor, frowned a bit, trying to keep his smile up, "That's the least of my concerns. Don't worry." You reassured. There was a momentary pause. "Al... is there anything you would like to... discuss?" You then inquired. Those tears last night suggested there was more to it. Alastor's expression softened as he averted his gaze. He then sighed, looking back into your (e/c).

"She was very proud of me, as she believed her son to be a perfect and charming gentleman who would never do anything wrong. she didn't know her son was a sadistic cannablist psychopathic killer who enjoys the thrill of making people I kill suffer. How do you tell your mother that? How do you tell her that I will not be seeing her in heaven. She would be ashamed. I don't want her to know that side of me, I don't want her to look at me differently."

Alastor stared for a moment. "If you ever get reunited with my mother... please don't tell her why her son never made it to heaven... I've come to terms with the fact that I won't be able to see her... ever again." "Oh Al, don't lose -" "Darling! I understand your concern for me, but I must accept my fate and the consequences of my actions. I will be sent to hell for my misdeeds while you, my dear, will join our mothers in heaven. You are far too pure and innocent to be subjected to the torments of hell. I can only hope that one day, after our deaths, we will be reunited in the afterlife. Until then, I will cherish the memories of our time together and hold onto the hope that we will meet again." You were left speechless by that.

"But for now, we have so much to live for and do. What do you say? Shall we rent a yacht for the day and explore the sea?" Alastor suggested with a grin. "Wait, really?" You suddenly frowned. "My dear, you always forget I have money, don't you?" Alastor chuckled. You only shrugged. "Because I only see you, and you only." "You are truly remarkable, and I am deeply grateful to have you as my wife." He whispered as he moved closer, and you responded by gently pressing your lips against his. As you departed, you noticed the radiant and inviting glow in his honey orbs. "Shall we go take a nice relaxing bath together, I believe we are a bit untidy, don't you think?" You chuckled as Alastor smiled. "Certainly, my dear. I would be delighted to bathe with you in my arms."

He stood up, stretching his body before extending his hand to assist you. You graciously accepted his help, and he pulled you up."After you, my lady," he said politely. "How kind of you," you replied with a smile as you both made your way to the bathroom for a relaxing soak.

23 years old

Alastor's behaviour has raised concerns following the unfortunate death of his mother a year ago. Upon examining her personal belongings, it came to light that she had been involved in the practice of black magic. This revelation has had a profound impact on Alastor, leading him down a path of darkness and intrigue towards voodoo and all these types of rituals. While trust in Alastor remains, the situation is unsettling and requires careful consideration. After all, it was not the most reliable or ethical form of magic to be involved with.

You have observed a slight change in Alastor's behaviour because of it. But you accepted it. You had to, you thought. After all, what more can he do? He is a cannablist serial killer, after all. "Hello, my dear!" Alastor entered the room with a friendly smile. "Is everything alright?" You inquired with a hint of curiosity, noticing the mischievous spark in his eyes.

"Oh, it's just something I discovered beneath a floorboard; it's not a big deal." He chuckled politely, attempting to dismiss the subject. Alastor had been spending time at his mother's house, meticulously examining every detail with careful observation. "Hmm, ok." You unexpectedly felt his arms wrap around you from behind as he affectionately kissed your cheek. "Alastor, where is all this affection coming from?" You chuckled, not at all displeased.

"Can I not express my affection for my beloved wife?" He whispered gently in your ear. "Hmm, I don't know" You grinned slightly as you turned around in his grasp. Alastor smirked at your remark as he leaned down and captured your lips with his.

Although you were taken aback, as he suddenly lifted you up from under your thighs, catching you by surprise. "Al!" You let out a soft laugh as he chuckled at your reaction, gently placing you on the table with him in between your legs. "You know, I've been craving you recently." He suddenly mumbled as he brought his lips onto your neck. "A lot more than just touching and tasting you. I want to be inside you..." He whispered seductively. Your heart began racing in your chest. "I wondered if we could explore further, more deeper, and perhaps even break the barrier?" You experienced a slight chill run down your spine, causing you to release a soft, involuntary gasp.

"I can see you want to, tell me darling how do I really make you feel?" He whispered lowly into your ear as you felt his hands now resting on your inner thighs, slowly stroking up and down your soft skin in a teasing manner.

Your eyes met his gaze, seeing the clouded haze over his honey orbs. "I..." You hesitated, struggling to find the right words as his intense gaze rendered you speechless. "Oh darling, it appears you are at a loss for words." He chuckled softly, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Al..." He became a bit serious. "Yes, my dear?" He hummed politely.. "I trust you too... take my virginity. I believe I'm ready for the next step. "You confessed. It's been a year now and although you enjoyed the foreplay of touching each other. You were happy to go farther. Alastor's eyes widened momentarily as a smile graced his countenance. "What made you ready, darling?" "Al, I have always been prepared, but I had been a little hesitant to bring up the topic." You sense your cheeks to become warm. "How long?" "How long what?" "How long have you been wanting this?"

Alastor asked, enjoying your flustered cheeks. "Honestly? Since we had our first kiss." You said in a whisper.

"Really?" Alastor said in quite a shock. "Why do you think Paul and I never went that far? Because I wanted you. I didn't want to give myself to Paul whilst thinking of you." You confessed. "Why wait so long since being together, ma chérie?"

"I wanted to make sure you were completely ready as you never showed any hints you were ready to go farther in our intimacy. I was waiting for you." "Oh darling. You didn't have to. Just simply it being you and seeing all... of you would have been enough for me to be more than happy to take the next step with you."

"You say that now." You lightly joked. "Well? What do you say? There's an empty bed, nothing else to do for the day. Me and you. Shall we take this... conversation into the bedroom with less clothing?" Alastor suggested.

As you were about to respond, a sudden knock resonated, signalling someone at the front door. You couldn't help but suppress a small, amused smile as you observed Alastor's reaction. "Who would dare to disturb us at this hour? It's almost as if they knew," Alastor muttered under his breath as he headed towards the door.

You swiftly descended from the counter, smoothing your wrinkled dress as you followed Alastor, intrigued to discover who it was. As Alastor opened the door, you caught a glimpse of the ginger hair and instantly recognised the individual. "Elizabeth?" Alastor inquired with a puzzled expression. "Lizzy?" You inquired with concern, noticing her smudged makeup and tear-stained face. "C-can I come in?" You were surprised by that, considering she vanished without a trace after Paul and you ended your relationship. Alastor turned to you to respond. "Uh, sure. Come in." You hesitated momentarily, Alastor stepped aside to allow Elizabeth to enter your home.

She took a quick glance around the room. "Impressive. You've redecorated. It looks quite nice." She complimented both of you with a gentle smile as she looked at you. Alastor gently embraced you in his arms. Elizabeth observed the two of you for a moment, a knowing smile gracing her lips. "I had a feeling this day would come. You two are truly meant for each other," she chuckled softly before letting out a sigh and settling herself on your sofa.

With a gentle tug, you released yourself from Alastor's hold. "Elizabeth, it's been quite some time since we last spoke. What brings you here today? I must admit, I'm quite surprised to see you," you inquired, taking a seat beside her.

Alastor whispered, "I'll leave you ladies to catch up while I go 'hunting," before bestowing a quick, affectionate kiss on your cheek. Elizabeth momentarily watched Alastor depart before turning her attention back to you, ready to engage in conversation.

She then let out a sigh of resignation. "Paul approached me after your separation and confessed to revealing our actions. I was mortified and immature (Y/N)... If I firmly believed that your relationship would be short-lived and that I understand that you eventually ended up with Alastor. I left because I was ashamed to face you and see the disappointment in your eyes for being a terrible friend."

You took a moment to let that sink in. "Lizzy, may I ask what really brings you here?" You then responded with a curious gaze.

Elizabeth was taken aback by the response. "What exactly do you mean?" "It has been quite some time, but I do recognise you. It seems that you only make an appearance when you are in need of something. May I ask what it is?" You narrowed your eyes, displaying a cautious expression. "I'm quite offended you think I would -" she stopped herself after noticing she was not convincing you.

She let out a sigh of resignation. "I am expecting a child," she announced softly. "Paul is the father." I'm not surprised, you thought. "And I'm... broke." You now knew where this was going. "Remember when I made that joke about you getting me a house if you and Alastor were to marry?" "Lizzy, are you requesting momey off me?" You inquired with astonishment. "You arrived at my home unexpectedly after... sleeping with my boyfriend at the time and couldn't face your actions so you left. And now you show up expecting I should suddenly forgive and forget and then ask me for money?"

"Alastor does not allow you to spend your money you earn from the diner. Therefore, it is likely that you have a high amount in your savings. After all, he always spend his money on you." "Elizabeth, have you been monitoring our activities without our knowledge?" You exclaimed in surprise. Upon hearing an unexpected footstep approaching from behind, you swiftly rose from the sofa and turned around with a sense of alertness. "Paul..." "Hello, (Y/N) you're looking beautiful as ever." He grinned. "What are you doing here?" You growled as Elizabeth stepped over to where Paul was. "Just need a bit of... help is all." He pulled his coat aside, indicating the pistol that was tucked in his belt. Are they really trying to rob me right now? Are they really that stupid... you thought. You narrowed your eyes at the threat.

"You think you're so clever, don't you." After all, you are married to a serial killer, so the confidence you grew was pretty high. "You appear quite composed for someone who is about to be robbed," Paul remarked in a mocking tone as he discreetly lowered his hand to the gun.

He froze all of a sudden, feeling the barrel of a shotgun press against his temple. "I wouldn't if I was you." Elizabeth's eyes widened as you smiled. All this while Alastor was gradually approaching, observing the situation. He noticed Paul reaching for something, which was enough to raise his shotgun. "You think a little pistol is gonna do anything, ol' pal? Why, you should give me a reason why I shouldn't pull the trigger after threatening my wife, didn't I say for you to stay away, no?" Alastor said, his tone turning dark.

"Al, we... we were just joking, right baby?" Elizabeth nervously giggled, slowly tugging Paul arm to follow her. "It would be best if you both leave Elizabeth before you become a single mother," you explained politely. Alastor had been wanting to kill Paul since the day he tried to assault you.

"He wouldn't," Paul said in a mocking tone. You noticed Alastor's eyes darken as his eyelids met halfway. "Elizabeth leave." You warned. "Paul, please be quiet, and let's go." She gently pulled him away. Before departing, Paul gave you a final glance. "Elizabeth?" Alastor abruptly interjected, causing her to halt in her steps as their gazes locked. "If I ever see you or your precious boy toy anywhere near here or near (Y/N). I won't hesitate to kill you both. You were fortunate on this occasion," he stated firmly. Elizabeth nodded in agreement before departing with Paul.

As the door closed. The room became quiet. Alastor gently set his shotgun against the wall and let out a sigh. "I must say, you had quite the confidence there considering you were about to be held at gun point." Alastor then contemplated with a raised eyebrow. "I had faith that you would come to my rescue, as you always have." You smiled as Alastor stood before you. "Oh, really?" He smirked, placing his hands on your hips and drawing you closer. "Certainly. Now... where were we before we were rudely interrupted?" "Oh? You still wish to..." Alastor paused for words as he suddenly lifted you over his shoulder, causing you to yelp in surprise as you began to laugh. "I'm kidnapping you to the bedroom!" He chuckled while carrying you, which provided you with an opportunity to smack his bum, causing him to abruptly halt his progress. "Did you just... oh darling, you're definitely getting payback for that." He chuckled as you couldn't help but feel a little too excited to what he had in mind.

Another smut in the next chapter hehe. Comment if you want to get tag!

Tags: @n0tmentallystable

#hazbin hotel #hazbin art #hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin fandom #hazbin hotel fanart #hazbin fanart #helluva #hazbin alastor x reader #alastor x you #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #criminal love #alastor x reader smut #alastor smut

91 notes · View notes

peppermintquartz · 5 months ago

Text

So I botched my first date and i need some help

i went out on a date with someone that i met recently and we went to a nice Italian restaurant. The food was great, the beer was decent, and we had a nice conversation. i admit i was a little nervous because my date is super gorgeous with the most piercing blue eyes and a truly stunning smile, and i'm pretty much just a regular guy who's just starting to get his shit together after i died last year (lightning strike. i got better.)

so anyway, my date and i were talking (we were gonna go to a movie after dinner - i know, i know, it's very cliched, but i like that we're going on a classic date, you know? or we were, but anyway i digress)

so we were talking, and suddenly i hear my best friend calling out our names, and he was there with his girlfriend (i don't really know her well yet). Let's call my best friend E. So E knows my date also, and i guess i didn't want E realizing that he was crashing our date, so i lied and said something truly humiliating. i didn't mean to but the words felt like they were generated from some alien machine and slipped out of my mouth. E didn't really get it, but my date did and i could see the hurt i caused but i could not take the lie back without making things even more awkward.

needless to say, my date wasn't keen on continuing to the movies, and in fact left me outside the restaurant (after being called adorable, by the way, which did give me heart palpitations, ngl) because my date thought i wasn't ready for more. and honestly... fair, i guess? i mean, i did make an idiot of myself and i did tell a lie about us both being on a date, which is pretty hurtful, like i'm ashamed about us or something, which i am NOT, i just... idk. i was just being an idiot.

i definitely need to talk to my sis but having some outside opinion is always good (i hope? i'm always overthinking stuff)

here's the main thing: i can't stop thinking about him.

(it was a wonderful first kiss, for the record. i wish i had video of it. although that'd be kinda weird. nvm)

#evan buckley #tommy kinard #bucktommy #911 abc #tevan #kinley

68 notes · View notes

irrevocableloves · 8 months ago

Text

violent delights

twilight rewrite! edward cullen x fem!witch!reader

chapter eight: questions & theories

previous chapter ౨ৎ masterlist ౨ৎ chapter nine

summary: after edward had mysteriously rescues her, she finally gets some answers.

warnings: violence, harassment

words: 4.6k (unedited)

All that could be heard was the shudder of my quickened breaths, not even a word coming from Edward’s mouth or even the drunken men who just stared in what was perhaps confusion? Maybe fear? Just moments ago, I could read them almost instantly. Hunger was what I felt from them. The absolute need for control. It sickened me.

I wasn’t sure what Edward had done, but the boys backed up and Edward made his way back into the car. I hurried and put my seatbelt on before he revved the engine and pulled forward. I couldn’t help but gasp as the men fell over as they backed away. Then he backed up swiftly, making the sharpest turn around that swished my insides. Even then, I still felt the safest I’ve ever been.

He raced down past the building and pulled onto the street, not even stopping at the sign or even waiting for someone to let him in. Honks blared past him, but not one flinch. As he raced down the street, I took the time to study him. His jaw was clenched, his hands gripped the wheel, his expression was full of fury; it looked as if he wasn’t even breathing at all.

“Are you okay?” I asked, my voice squeaked. I winced hearing my voice coming out so frail.

“No.” He was fuming.

I was surprised when he’d made a complete stop at the side of the road. I didn’t realize I’d been looking at him the whole time when he finally stopped to look towards me, not even reaching my eye.

“Y/N?” he asked as softly as he could, although I could still hear the strains of anger.

“Yeah?”

“Are you all right?” His eyes met mine for a split second.

“I–I think so…” I don’t think I was. I was too shocked by it all.

“Do you think you can distract me?” he just about pleaded.

From just looking at him, I didn’t need to question his need for a diversion. But, what was there to say? The days without him had left me in a heap of depression and utter sense of boredom at school. I racked my brain of anything that seemed amusing, scratching out my search for vampires and the constant dreams I had of him that left me a sweating mess on my sheets.

“Tyler Crowley–he–um kept telling everyone he was taking me to prom? I think? I don’t really remember, I kinda tuned it out…” I admitted. I should’ve been more angry about it, but the absence of Edward had hit me a lot harder.

“I heard about that.” He seemed to be controlling his breaths.

“Really? Was I the last one to hear about this?” I tried to lighten the mood, it seemed to work when I was rewarded a slight chuckle. “If he thinks taking me to prom is making up for almost killing me, then I’ll just run him over with my car and make it even.”

I saw his mouth twitch a bit with my remark, almost forcing itself not to crack a smile. I decided to speak up again. “What’s wrong?”

“My temper. Sometimes it gets out of control.” He was whispering, ashamed of what he couldn’t control. “It’s taking everything in me not to turn around and hunt those animals. The vile, repulsive things they were thinking…”

I know. I didn’t dare speak that aloud. I felt like I was losing my mind. Could he too hear their thoughts or were they as clear as day?

“It wouldn’t help to turn around and do it… or even run them over… At least that’s what I’m trying to convince myself.”

A part of me wished that he would… hunt them down. The part of me that was completely exposed. The one that was forced to hear their thoughts. Unless I’d imagined it… but it wouldn’t have been too far off from reality.

“Jessica and Angela,” I broke the brief silence, realizing that it had been at least 20 minutes since I’d last contacted them. “I was supposed to meet them, they’re probably worried...”

Without another word, he started the engine. Yet again, racing through the streets in a blur. He parallel parked in a spot with ease, right in front of La Bella Italia. My eyebrows furrowed. From the time I’d told him about meeting the girls to our arrival at the restaurant, I never mentioned the location once.

In my swift time of thought, he’d already been opening my door.

“What’re you doing?” I asked him.

“I’m taking you to dinner,” he said as if it was so plainly obvious.

I fumbled with my seatbelt as my mind raced about as fast as Edward’s driving. Finally, I stepped out.

Just as we were entering, Jessica and Angela walked out, the both of them sighing with relief. Right as they were about to speak, they noticed the brooding, tall man beside me and their worried looks had faded, instead replaced with a red tint in their cheeks.

“Sorry I kept Y/N from dinner. We ran into each other and got talking.” Edward was the one to speak first. I was grateful. I couldn’t even bear to tell them what happened, at least not yet, I didn’t want to worry them.

“We understand, yeah!” Jessica was completely flustered along with Angela.

“Would it be all right if I joined you?” he asked. He had a way with people, one that left them absolutely breathless. The girls were left in stutters.

“Um! Y-yeah sure!” Jessica breathed. Edward smirked.

“Um, actually, Y/N, we already ate while we were waiting — sorry," Angela confessed.

“That’s okay! I’m not really that hungry anyways.” I shrugged. With all the nerves with Edward here, I wasn’t sure if I would even be able to stomach anything.

“I really think you should eat something,” Edward said in a low voice, leaning down to speak into my ear. I looked up at him, trying to cover up the fact that I was in complete awe. I simply nodded back at him as if I was in a trance.

“Sure, yeah.” I tried to say as composed as possible.

He looked back to the two girls, then spoke, “Do you mind if I drive Y/N home tonight? That way the two of you aren’t left waiting.”

Jessica and Angela looked to me for an answer. I gave them a nod with a smile. This was exactly what I needed. A night to finally ask all of my unanswered questions from my brooding savior.

“Yeah! Not a problem! See you tomorrow, Y/N/N,” Jessica chirped.

“Bye Y/N,” Angela leaned in for a hug. “And Edward, thanks for staying and taking her home.” She smiled at him. He responded back with a tight, but genuine smile.

Once they left, Edward guided me towards the entrance,holding the door open for me. My heart skipped a beat. I walked through the door, immediately being greeted by a host. Actually, only Edward was greeted by the host. Just from the look in her eyes, I knew she was instantly enamored by his presence, a feeling that was all too familiar with practically anyone that laid their eyes on him.

As she spoke, she never broke eye contact with him, not once looking towards me. I hated that it bothered me. The way she smiled at him, giggling at him once he spoke — it made me feel small.

“A table for two?” Her eye contact was still left unbroken, but when I looked towards Edward, his eyes were only on me. My breath trembled.

When she led us to a larger table, one that was meant for four, Edward spoke up, “Perhaps something more private?” He asked the host with a quick glance towards her before slyly pulling out a tip for her. Then his eyes were back on me.

“Sure,” she said alluringly, still trying to catch Edward’s undivided attention. She led us over to the quieter area of the restaurant, with a ring of small booths lined up. “How’s this?”

“Perfect.” He flashed a smile at her, one that had absolutely left her awed.

”Um-” she stuttered, “your server will be right out.” She walked away, still making glances back towards Edward.

“Wow.” That was all that I could possibly utter after that interaction.

“What?”

“You really shouldn’t do that to people.” I finally found my voice. “It’s hardly fair.”

“Do what?”

”Dazzle them like that.” I couldn’t possibly think of a word more fitting. “She’s probably hyperventilating in the kitchen right now.”

His eyebrows furrowed, which surprised me. Did he really not notice this effect he has on people?

“I dazzle people?” His head tilted to one side, his eyes full of curiosity.

“Oh, come on.” I giggled. “Do you really think everyone gets their way so easily?”

He ignored my question completely. “Do I dazzle you?”

I froze for a moment before asking, “What do you think?”

“Now that’s the real question…” He mumbled. He looked frustrated.

Thankfully, before I could even form a response, our server arrived, her eyes gleaming. Once again, another woman dazzled by just the mere presence of Edward Cullen.

“Hi. My name’s Amber and I’ll be your server tonight. What can I get you to drink?” She only looked at Edward and I noticed that his eyes, again, were on me.

“A Coke.” I said rather bland to the server.

“Two Cokes,” he said.

“I’ll be right back with that.” She shot him another smile, one that was completely unnecessary as his eyes still remained on me.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Fine?” I’d completely forgotten about the reason why he was here with me in the first place. I hated that. The way that every thought bolted out of my mind when it came to him, it was quite frustrating.

“You’re not a little shaken up? Dizzy, sick, cold…?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “No, I’ve always been pretty good at repressing unpleasant things.” And he was far from that.

He nodded. “Well, I’ll feel better once you have something in your system.”

Just after that, the server came back with our drinks and a basket of breadsticks. To make him feel better, I grabbed one to nibble on.

“Are you ready to order?” she asked Edward, her back facing me.

“Y/N?” he asked. She looked back at me uninterested. I tried my hardest to swallow my tongue.

I glanced at the menu, picking the first thing that my eyes fell to. “I’ll have the Fettuccine Alfredo.”

“And you?” She turned back to him with a smile.

“Nothing for me.” I knew it.

The server gave him a coy smile. “Just let me know if you change your mind.”

He pushed my drink towards me, nodding at it for me to drink. The waiter left disappointed.

Once the glass was in front of me, I sipped on it, forgetting how dehydrated I actually was. In under a minute, the soda was gone and embarrassingly enough, I was still thirsty.

I saw him push the other coke towards me. I gave him a smile, deciding to take small sips from it.

“Cold?” He asked.

I felt a shiver down my spine and this time it wasn’t from Edward, but from the Coke that I’d chugged and the one that I was currently sipping on.

Before I could even nod, he shrugged off his gray coat, one that looked a little too nice for a teenage boy. Underneath, he wore a casual dark blue button down with the two buttons loose to reveal a dark gray undershirt.

Once he handed me his coat, I was broken from my trance. I slid my arm into his coat, oddly, it was cold, almost as if I’d left it in my car that was drowning in snow from the night before. But in just seconds, the coat had warmed to my touch. Once it was on, I pushed back the sleeves as they were far too long on me…

“You sure you're alright? Normally a person would’ve gone into shock.” He pushed the breadsticks in front of me and I gladly served myself another.

Why was that? I couldn’t really make out a sane answer as to why my reaction didn’t amount to one of a normal person. There was truly only one answer. Him.

“I feel safe with you,” I confessed.

His head went down, his eyes to the floor with a furrowed brow.

“I’m not… good for you.” He shook his head, his eyes still facing the ground.

“Your eyes are black again.” I saw his expression change, he looked back up at me, his eyebrows furrowed yet again, but this time in a state of confusion rather than disappointment. “I noticed your moods change according to your eye color, it’s quite interesting actually. One of my new theories.”

“So there’s more theories?” He had a faint smile and I could sense that he was a bit intrigued.

“Well I’m not gonna force it out of you. Just makes me feel a bit more sane.” He nodded at my response, his smile peeking a bit more in the corners of his mouth.

“And what are these new theories?”

When the waitress came over, we both realized how close we were sitting and immediately straightened out. She set the dish in front of me and then turned to Edward.

“Did you change your mind? Isn’t there anything I can get you?” she asked him.

“No, thank you.” Then gestured towards me.

I looked around at the table, realizing I’d already finished the second coke. “Maybe just some water.” I gave her a tight smile.

She nodded, only smiling at Edward, then took the empty glasses off the table and walked off.

“So, those theories?” He moved closer to me.

“I’ll tell you later in the car. Only if I can ask you a few questions.”

“Done,” he said immediately, I was a bit surprised.

“Why are you here?” I started.

“To have dinner with you,” he said as if it were obvious.

“No, I mean Port Angeles. It’s an hour drive – you knew I was here.”

“Next.”

“C’mon, I gotta have at least some answers if you won’t tell me the big one.”

“Next,” he repeated.

I tried hard to not look as frustrated as I actually was. I shouldn’t have. I should feel grateful and not poke my head in where it didn’t belong. But I couldn’t help the pull I felt towards him, the need to know him. Instead, I pulled my focus towards the steaming food in front of me, twisting the noodles on my fork and sticking them in my mouth. It was actually delicious.

The waitress came back with two waters without another word.

“Okay.” I took a sip of my water before speaking up again. “So… let’s say, hypothetically, someone could know what people are thinking. Read minds, you know?” I wasn’t even sure if this question was regarding me or him, but I was intrigued either way.

“Hypothetically?” He asked, amused.

“Mhm.” I nodded. “So, how does it work? How is it that someone could find another person at the right time and just know that they’re in trouble?”

“Well, hypothetically, it shouldn’t take that someone any mind reading at all to know just how much trouble you get into in a town with absolutely no trouble.” He chuckled.

I only just looked at him, waiting for him to tell me the truth or not. Just from my look, he seemed frustrated, as if he was battling a war in his mind of whether or not he should tell me the truth.

“You can trust me, you know?” Without a second thought I reached my hands towards his, but he pulled them away. My face was tinted red. I was glad his eyes were still to the floor.

“I was wrong about you.” He admitted. “You're much more observant than I gave you credit for.”

“Thought you were always right.”

“I used to be.” He finally looked at me. “But, you proved me wrong.”

He spoke up again before I could respond. “I was wrong about something else, too.”

“You’re not a magnet for accidents. No… that’s not a broad enough classification. You are a magnet for trouble. If there is anything dangerous within a ten-mile radius, it will inevitably find you.”

“And you think that’s you?” I guessed.

Just from his expression, I knew I was right. His face turned cold, in another effort to shut me out completely.

“Unequivocally,” he said.

My hands stretched across the table again as they had a mind of its own. Even as he pulled away, my hands persisted, shadowing over the back of his hand, feeling his skin with my fingertips. It was cold, like stone. Familiar. Like in my dream. Once the cold started to dissipate from my fingertips, I slowly inched my hand back…

I wasn’t the only one who noticed it. Edward looked down at where my fingertips once laid, a bewildered look on his face. To break his focus, I cleared my throat, muttering, “Thank you,” I started. He looked up at me, trying hard to not glance back down at his hand. I continued “For saving me… again…”

“Let’s hope there isn’t a third.” He said, his usual condescending self resurfacing. He placed both of his hands under the table, pulling himself back into our conversation.

“I followed you to Port Angeles,” he admitted. “I feel protective over you.” His expression seemed like he didn’t know why himself, but he continued on, “I've never tried to keep a specific person alive before, and it's much more troublesome than I would have believed. But that's probably just because it's you. Ordinary people seem to make it through the day without so many catastrophes.”

It should’ve bothered me, but it didn’t. Instead, I felt content over the fact that this connection wasn’t imaginary. He felt it to the point where he felt the need to protect me. Nothing about this was normal, but I seemed to not be fazed by it at all. So, why should I fight it? The only thing I was determined to fight was the smile that threatened to curve on my lips.

“Did you ever think that maybe my number was up the first time, with the van, and that you've been interfering with fate?" I speculated, distracting myself.

“That wasn't the first time," he murmured. “Your number was up the first time I met you."

My breath hitched. But somehow, the memory didn’t bother me anymore, not when I felt the safety I felt with him right now. Not when he’d gone beyond faith and saved me twice.

"You remember?" he asked.

"Yes." I was as calm as ever.

“And yet here you sit." There was a trace of disbelief in his voice; he raised one eyebrow.

"Yes, here I sit… because of you." I paused. “Because somehow you always manage to find me?”

He studied me, his expression guarded. His eyes flashed down to my plate, then returned to mine.

“You eat, I'll talk," he bargained.

I looked down at my now, lukewarm food, realizing how long it’s been since I’d taken a bite. I filled up my fork and ate in return for his explanation.

“It's harder than it should be — keeping track of you. Usually I can find someone very easily, once I've heard their mind before…" He glanced at me with anxiety, and I noticed I had tensed up. I forced myself to swallow, then piled up my fork again for another bite.

“I kept loose tabs on Jessica, knowing only you could find trouble in Port Angeles. At first I didn’t notice when you roamed off on your own – her thoughts were quite scrambled. Then, when I realized you’d left them, I went looking for you at the bookstore I saw in her head. I could tell you hadn’t gone in yet – you’d gone south. I searched through the thoughts of people on the street just to see if anyone saw you. I was strangely anxious…” He trailed off, lost in thought, his gaze distant.

“I drove in circles, still… listening. The sun was setting, and I was considering following you on foot. But then—" He paused, teeth clenched in sudden fury, making an effort to regain composure.

“Then what?" I whispered. He continued to stare towards the floor.

“I heard what they were thinking," he growled, his upper lip curling slightly back over his teeth. So could I, even if it was just for a moment. “I saw your face in their minds." He was struggling to compose his anger as his entire face twitched up.

His hands were now in his face to contain his fury. “It was very… hard — you can't imagine how hard it was for me to simply take you away, and leave them… alive." I was holding in a gasp. But, still… somehow… I wasn’t afraid of him.

“I could have let you go with Jessica and Angela, but I was afraid if you left me alone, I would go looking for them," he admitted in a whisper. I sat quietly, dazed, my thoughts incoherent. My hands were folded in my lap, and I was leaning weakly against the back of the seat. He still had his face in his hand, and he was as still as if he'd been carved from the stone his skin resembled.

Finally he looked up, his eyes seeking mine, full of his own questions.

“Are you ready to go home?" he asked. The waitress had come over almost immediately after Edward muttered the words.

I nodded, satisfied that I’d be the one spending an hour long drive with him, one that would further my answers to my long-awaited questions.

“How are we doing?" she asked Edward.

“We're ready for the check, thank you." He was a lot more reserved than earlier. His charming smirk had been replaced with a brooding expression, still reflecting the strain of our conversation. The waitress seemed to notice the change and looked a bit disoriented from it.

“S-sure," she stuttered. “Here you go." Before she even pulled out the check, a bill was already in his hand. He slipped it into the folder and handed it right back to her.

“No change." He gave her a tight smile, then stood up. Meanwhile, I scrambled awkwardly up to my feet.

She smiled invitingly at him again. “You have a nice evening." He didn't look away from me as he thanked her. I didn’t even bother to smile. Walking out, he was close beside me, but still careful not to touch me.

He opened the passenger door, holding it for me as I stepped in, shutting it softly behind me. I should’ve been used to this. But as I watched him circle around the car, so effortless and graceful, I couldn’t help but think of how I was so utterly astonished by him.

Once inside the car, he started the engine and turned the heater on high. I was grateful, because even in the warmth of his coat, the temporary chill of the car had left me in shivers and a cold breath. I didn’t even notice Edward weaving through traffic, as I usually did, but we were now on the freeway. That’s when he finally slowed down to a normal pace, for now…

“Now, about those theories…" he said, his usual smirk and smugness creeping its way back.

“I still have more questions,” I revealed. “Just one.”

He only nodded, staring me down, not even paying attention to the road.

“What am I thinking right now?”

He sighed. “Now that. That’s the most frustrating thing of all.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I waited for an answer.

“I can read every mind… apart from yours.”

My breath hitched. “Is there something wrong with me?”

“I hear voices in my mind and you think there’s something wrong with you?” So, I’m a double freak. I should’ve told him that I heard them too, even if it was only for a few moments… But if he could have secrets, so could I.

“How does it work?”

“Mostly, it’s like being in a huge hall filled with everyone speaking at once. It's just a hum — a buzzing of voices in the background. It’s not until I focus on one voice and that’s when their thoughts are clear.” He paused for a moment. “Most of the time I tune it all out — it can be very distracting. And then it's easier to seem normal.” It seemed agonizing.

“Why do you think you can’t hear me?” I asked

curiously.

“The only guess I have is that maybe your mind doesn't work the same way the rest of theirs do. Like your thoughts are on the AM frequency and I'm only getting FM." He grinned at

me, suddenly amused.

“So you’re telling me that my mind doesn’t work right?” I chuckled, but really, his words unsettled me. It hit a nerve, tapping into a fear I’d always dreaded might be true.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a theory… which brings us back to yours.”

I froze. Suddenly, saying it out loud made me feel foolish. Despite all my research and seemingly reliable conversations – I still felt like I was losing my mind.

He noticed my silence. “I won’t laugh,” he said, scrunching his grin into a line.

I took a deep breath before I started. “So, I ran into an old friend – Jacob Black, an old family friend of mine… His dad is one of the Quileute elders.” I noticed his expression change, his jaw clenching.

“At La Push, he told me a few old legends – I think he was trying to scare me. But, he told me one…” I was distracted by the Forks welcome sign as Edward slowed down – I should’ve known that the hour-long car ride would be cut short from Edward’s driving habits.

Right as I was about to continue onto my theory, my attention shifted to the flashing police lights and sirens as we were nearing the police station. Then, my dad’s cruiser parked right in front.

“My dad’s still here… Can you pull in?” I asked.

“That’s my father’s car in the end. What’s he doing here?”

Once he pulled in, we both exited the car, meeting Carisle as he walked down the steps of the police station.

“Carlisle. What happened?”

“Waylon Forge was found in a boat out near his place. I just examined the body.”

Flashes of images consumed me. The boat. Red. So much red. In a blur, the flash of crimson red was surrounded by pale bodies devouring the deceased Waylon Forge.

“Y/N?” A voice interrupted the images, a shake and then a cold hand on my face is what I felt before I opened my eyes.

I squinted from the flashes of the red and blue police lights. With each blink, my vision cleared and in front of me was Edward – wearing an expression I’d never quite seen from him before: fear.

And I felt it too, more than ever.

His once cold hand warmed on my face, almost tingling. But this time, he didn’t move it.

“Y/N?” Carlisle interrupted over Edward’s shoulder. “Are you feeling faint?”

“No.” I cleared my throat. Edward had finally let go, but that warmth of his touch lingered severely. “I’m fine, thank you. Just… just shock… H-he died?” I stuttered. “How?”

I knew exactly how. The images from just seconds ago flickered. My heart pounded and my breath picked up from just the memory of it. The blood. Waymond’s blood. His lifeless body being torn apart by those three figures… Vampires.

Carlisle sighed. “Animal attack.”

next chapter

a/n: i'm so sorry i haven't updated in forever ..........

tags: @measure-in-pain @brekkers-whore @rejectedbimbo @leilanileila @anothercoffeeblogx @cevans-winchester @trawberry-fire @nephilimsss @itszzmoon @astrovampie @cryingoverfictionalmen @boxofbadsenses @ttnaanj @iheartprettygurls @aoi-targaryen @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @mystifiedgrace @ladybirdbeetle7 @celi-xxmoon @quinnieloves @valeriegraham @renesmeviolets @justicexjustice @bubs-world @eir964 @turnintoclown @tiniewife

(if ur username is here and u didn't get a notif just dm me and i'll dm u when there's an update <3)

taglist ₊˚⊹♡

#violent delights #twilight #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen x you #edward cullen x y/n #edward cullen fanfiction #robert pattinson #twilight fanfiction #robert pattinson x reader #violent delights fanfic #violent delights fanfiction

97 notes · View notes