#they would be MENACES rip space and time

[turtleblogatlast]

Love the thought of Leo and Mikey teaming up their mystic abilities to prank archeologists and historians

Leo makes a portal then within that, Mikey opens a very very small time portal of his own

They toss something in and excitedly wait for the results of the dig-site right where Leo had set his portal to

Cue mass confusion as the archeologists wonder what the hell a 1000+ year old Lou Jitsu figurine is doing in the ruins of an ancient city all the while Mikey and Leo laugh themselves unconscious

[diejager]

Saccharine and Monstrosity pt.1

Pairing: Eldritch Horror!König x mermaid!reader

Cw: kidnapping, manipulation, DARK FIC, trap, luring, mention of breeding kink, protective König, mention of partial nudity, hunting, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 4K

I got inspired by @konigsblog ‘s post.

You enjoyed the sun as much as any other betta fish mermaid, laying on the warm rocks and bathing under the bright, yellow sun. You lived in a school of fish that moved near the shores of a tropical island a few generations before, building houses under the coral reef and rocks where newly placed branches would grow and work as a natural shield. The world you lived in - the part of the ocean you called your home - was bright and colourful, the shallow waters clear and gleaming under the warming sun.

You liked all things bright and colourful, either big or small, you decorated your part of the cave with things you found while swimming around your territory. Be it a golden coin shining on the ocean floor, or a shard of coloured glass, you picked it all up and stuck it around your room. Sometimes, you found pretty things near the limits of your home, and other times, you ventured closer to the edge of the darkness when something shiny caught your attention. 

Over the ridge of sand that drew the start of the darkness, that deep and menacing slope down to the deepest part of your ocean, where darker, meaner and cruel beings born of cruelty and madness lived. It was somewhere all mers were warned of, to stay far away from the darkness and never stray from the light that fed and protected you. You thrived in the light, your body absorbing the warmth from the sun that made your scales vibrant and feeding from the fauna and flora that lived beside you: seaweeds and small fishes. 

Your kind grew up with stories of horrifying monsters and cruel creatures that lived in that abyss, lingering near the shallow to catch a pretty, little mer for their hoard. Whatever became of the taken was still unknown, once a mer was taken by One, no one would hear from them from then on. Your parents had warned you about straying too close from the shallow, daring fate when you swam over the ridge to collect those pretty gems you fancied so much.

“Don’t worry,” you’d grin at her, fins flickering behind you. “I’m a fast swimmer, mom!”

You were a fast swimmer, slipping between rocks and corals, hands cradling your little shells while you fled from the dark, twisting over the ridge and vanishing between the corals. That’s what you did most days, picking up people’s trash to make it your treasure, fingers cleaning the sand off the holes and crevasses before sticking them to your walls. You also tinkered with metal creations you found, a silver fork or a rusted-looking instrument. 

Granted, you joined in hunts, catching sardines and herrings, claws digging into its scaled bodies and teeth ripping into its flesh, the only other taste being sea salt, or bathed under the sun, but you preferred scavenging for loot. Although mers hunted alone, most found it easier to do it in groups, swarming shoals of fish and catching in a group of a dozen at a time for your little colony. So when you were fed and rested, you were back out, treading the line between the shallow and the abyss.

You swam slowly, head turning left and right for anything that would catch your attention, for that small glint hidden under a thin veil of sand or a long metallic object sticking out from the ground. You already had a few things in your arms, a few shells, human objects thrown overboard or floated into the sea, and small treasures: white pearls. You picked things up from both sides, mind in a comfortable and pleasant space, prideful of your catch so far that you were oblivious of the eyes following your colourful body. 

His pale eyes wandered over your puffy cheeks and sweet lips, those squinted eyes in mirth as you searched for more. He went down the curve of your shoulders and the swell of your breasts, perky nipples covered by pretty shells, over your soft stomach and that bright, colourful tail of yours that first caught his attention. Every scale glistened under the sun, reflecting the light on the sand while you swam, your fins curving with the twist of your tail. 

You were the prettiest thing he’d ever seen, an angel collecting treasure, just like he did. He saw the batch in your arms, clutched between your breasts when you dove to pick something up on his side. You were as adorable and innocent as you were pretty, your action oblivious of his predatory eyes, dipping into his territory without fear of retribution on his part. He liked that bold and daring attitude of yours, fitting for someone so courageously bright and flashing your bold colours to him. 

If he were to drop something closer to him, would you still swim towards it or ignore it for something closer to the ridge? If he hid until you were close enough, would he be able to wrap his limb around you? To feel your soft skin and coarse scales under his slimy arm. He was glad he decided to hunt today, searching for both prey - mer or fish, he isn’t picky about what he ate - and treasure. Hidden under a couple of tentacles, he dropped a golden coin a few feet away from him, his veil and the darkness helping him hide from your sight. 

His heart soared when he saw your eyes widen, a smile curling at the corners of your lips when you saw his little coin, diving towards him with enthusiasm. You were so close to him, hand stretching to grab the object with small, clawed fingers. When you held it in your hand, appraising it, he felt pride bubble in his chest, rising to his mind as he took this occasion to get his arm around you. You flinched when he wrapped the tip of his tentacle around your tail, squirming around in terror. In a panicked struggle to escape him, you dropped everything you’d collected and fled from him with a cry.

He watched you swim away from him through saddened eyes, hearing the thudding from the things you dropped, even the coin he gifted you. His eyes never left your fleeing body until you jumped over the edge, your tail the last thing he saw in that moment of self-deprivation and sadness. He hoped you’d come back, forgetting the fear of his sudden attention and daring fate once more.

He came the next day and the day after that, but you weren’t there, your precious smile and happy eyes were a memory in his mind, a fleeting moment in his gloomy world. He came back every day, hiding in the darkness, on the line between pitch darkness and light shading. He wished you were there every day, his eyes bleeding with optimism and hope for a single smidgen of bright colours. 

He hadn’t seen you in the following week. His shoulders slumped and caved into himself in sadness every time he came by, his blue eyes dulling bit by bit, that hopeful thinking drowning under realistic thinking and a pessimistic mind. Then he caught a glimpse of colour against the white sand. Before long, he saw arms filled with shiny items, trailing nearer to your side than his, but still chasing for treasures. 

If he wanted to approach you, to touch your soft-looking skin and run his arms over your scaled tail, he’d have to find a way to lure you in. He watched you the first few days, his tentacles curling on itself and burying himself in the sand, the hundreds of suckers searching for buried treasures to leave for you. When you turned your back to him, his unwinding arm left the things he found near the ridge for you to find and take. Little gifts for you, courting gifts he left and gifted you in an attempt to woo you. 

You were skittish and fleeing but took all his gifts with shaky smiles and grateful eyes, you knew he gave them to you. Of course, you did, you were his brave and smart little mermaid, approaching his offerings with apprehension - he felt hurt you feared and got nervous around him, but he understood you, his kind ate yours - and scanned the sand around you for any danger before crossing the line. He felt giddy when you added them to your stack, his mind-blowing with dreams and thoughts of you decorating your little cave with the things he gave you. On the ceiling, against the wall and on the ground or surfaces, you would use the things he gave you for your home. 

It sent him up the walls of his caves with joy and excitement, his limbs curling to rearrange his home to prepare for you, to accommodate your arrival to his big, lonely home.

It took a week or two - or so he thought, his perception of time was and had always been warped in some way - before you became comfortable enough to approach him, to let him curl his slimy tentacle around your tail and up your body. He could finally feel you and it made him ecstatic - he was over the moon every time he got to touch you. Little pokes, fleeting squeezes and feathery bites from his suckers on your flesh, all things he let himself taste before your coupling. A coupling between the prettiest and the cruellest beings in the ocean would unwind the seams that made your worlds, pulling the string that separated the beauty and the beast in this cursed universe.

Granted, you hesitated to cross into the pitch darkness of the abyss, dancing just a few inches from his abode with an armful of trinkets from König. Your slow and steady breath, words you blessed him with when you muttered to him, calling out to know if he was there and your grateful grin were a common, yet welcome sight in his daily swim. While a bit reluctant to join him on the other side, you eventually swam across, your eyes melting into the black before you. You were unseeing as much as you were blind, if not for the guiding palm of the Eldritch creature that you befriended and the shine of treasure you saw around him. 

You wished you could see anything but the gleam of treasure and the black mist of the abyss, your hand wandered over his, searching for his body, to feel the one who’s been gifting you treasures. Your fingers trailed upwards, feeling the tightness of his muscles, the curves and hardness of his arms were sinful. You truly wished you could see him at this moment, but you kept at your advance, clawed fingers moving slowly with unbridled curiosity. When you reached his broad shoulders and well-pronounced chest, it rumbled, a purr coming from König. Its deep sound shook you with need, your tail enthusiastically moving back and forth as you listened to him. 

“Are you happy, Schatz?”

His voice was even better than his soft purrs, in a way that made you want to melt into his arms and never bother moving if he kept talking to you, the sound of the creature that gave you gifts and affection. König’s spine-chilling voice seemed like a mix of many voices, both soft and raspy, and both deep and smooth, but it was something you enjoyed, that you found yourself liking a bit too much. 

“Yes,” you breathed, eyes travelling skyward, towards the source of his voice.

Your breath caught in your throat, choking a gasp at the prettiest blues you’d seen staring down at you. They were majestic, gem-like with a pretty sheen that made them glow like a beacon of light. You wondered why you’d never seen them, seeing how bright his eyes were. They lit up his face, or the veil he wore over his face, showing the pale streak of makeshift tears down the incision he made for his eyes. You shamelessly admired him, unbothered by the lost puppy-like stare you gave him in your glowing beauty. 

You’d crossed a threshold, where a creature of light never dared to cross, stepping into the arms of an Old One and embracing their madness. Although you were oblivious to his intentions, the loud proclamation of his courting rituals and attempts of crying out his love - the Old One’s rituals and cultures were much of a mystery to those who didn’t study them, much of a taboo for anyone outside of delusion and greed - he hadn’t refrained from his deliberate show that would be nearly shameful and embarrassing to others of his kind. 

Some wouldn’t bother with such frivolous acts: confessions from the deepest part of their dark soul, proclamation of love and undying adoration, or having to scavenge for gifts - offerings - to the subject of their attention. His kind took and took, reaching for that small glimmer of hope and beauty and corrupted it, bending it to their liking and building something from the ashes. It wouldn’t - would never - be the same as they were before, but that was how the Old Ones liked it: control, corruption, ruin, madness and power.

König wouldn’t do that, he wanted to cherish you, add to what you were and watch it bloom like those bioluminescent creatures in the abyss; even against his creator’s wishes. He’ll put you on the highest pedestal he has, eternally imprinting the image of you as his most precious treasure into his mind. You’ll be a thing of miracles, a thing of blessings, a thing of new beginnings. He wanted all and everything with you, but he’d have to take it slow, to coax you into this redundant pattern that ensured your trust and comfort and have you follow him of your own volition. 

He doesn’t mind waiting, he’s had hundreds of years of sitting and waiting, patience was a virtue he grew to learn, to hold in his giant palm and clutch like a gift from the ever-growing, chaotic universe. He can wait and plan, so he will, König will lay down his plan and wait until he can bring it to reality.

Wait he did, for you to grow comfortable enough to follow him deeper and let him pull you in from your side. It took you a month of back and forth, squirming around your infatuation with König and exchanging trinkets, words and fleeting kisses with him. He adored your little giggles when he traced your sides with a bolt tentacle, curling under your plush tits and the tip sliding under your strap. He loved the pretty shells you gave him, cleaned from sand and any barnacles, it showed him how much time you spent on it for him. His heart bloomed and swelled to impossible heights when you pecked his lips, giving him shy and gentle kisses that he grew addicted to. 

You were so sweet and so soft, your lips the taste of heaven for a creature of madness. Your hands were gentle like a cool balm over a burn, soothing his wild thoughts. Your little gifts for him - reciprocating his affection - were currently the most important things in his cave, a sign of your love and devotion. It made him wonder what would you let him do once you gave yourself to him. Would you succumb to the everlasting pleasures he could give you, or would you demand to help him take care of his own in a mutual haze? He couldn’t help himself, letting his chaotic mind conjure the most absurd and erotic dreams, his body vibrating with excitement; and now, at the peak of your trust in him, he watched his plan - a well-placed trap - come to fruition. 

“Come, Schatz,” he beckoned you forward, his burly arm stretching to coax you to follow him, holding out his open palm to you. “I have something I want to show you. Pretty things.”

Without a thought, to question his intentions or to ask why he couldn’t have bought them for you like he usually did, you took his hand and let his fingers curl over yours, intertwining your smaller digits to his as he pulled you to his chest. His embrace was as safe and pleasant as the last one - yesterday - and caused a flurry of emotions to erupt in your chest, he was warm in the cool darkness, loving in all the ways you could think. You could close your eyes and imagine a smile rippling across his face with joyfully squinted eyes peering down at you. 

Held against his chest, his other arm wrapped around your waist with a firm squeeze of his hand where your skin turned to scales. He whispered sweet promises, words of encouragement to see the way to his home and excited explanations of what awaited you. Pretty things, he said, you knew what he meant - at least you think you did - you shared much in common, and pretty things were something you both agreed on: shiny metals, interesting trinkets, shimmering shells or finely-minted coins. All things humans valued before throwing away; one man’s trash is another man’s treasure. 

How unfortunate that you couldn’t see in the dark, yet how fortunate you wouldn’t know the way back, it was something he relied on heavily to keep you, if you didn’t know how to navigate in this utter blindness, there were no risks of you trying to escape his caring hand. You were smart, you wouldn’t simply venture off without knowing where to go and how to see, especially with how vast his territory was and how dangerous it was. He shared his home with other simple-minded animals, sharks, fishes, eels and any other abyssal creature that lived and depended on the dark to live. 

Your innocent curiosity about the things he deemed pretty enough to hoard made his heartbeat, that addicting feeling he got from touching you, kissing you and speaking to you. Even if the deeper he went, the colder it became, you never once complained, your wide eyes and grinning face were the only thing you gave him. He was truly relieved to know that you were patient and understanding of his home, not one hiss or pout while you shook and clung to him, depending on him for warmth. He liked that, to see you rely on him so much. 

“We’re here, mein Liebling,” he hushed, cradling your face as he dove down, through the entrance of his cave. He shielded your fragile body with his many arms, protecting you from the rush of water current flowing against him. He chose this one to build his nest, using the strong current as a natural barrier against weaker creatures. 

When the waters calmed to a still, he loosened his hold on you, unravelling his arms to let you explore the many passages and alcoves in his home. To accommodate you, he strung up bioluminescent flora, using them as light to find your way around, with silken algae over a few rocks to mimic the beds mers slept in and a few other things that he thought you’d need: a mirror, a few floating plants to add to its mystical beauty and clusters of soft materials in nearly every room. 

He let you wander, your tail flapping back and forth to lead you down the long hall and explore the many rooms. He used a room to sleep, one as a pantry and storage, and another one to hold his hoard, but he had a lot of empty and unused space, more than enough for you and your children to thrive. He wanted to let you roam at your own pace, but he had something to show you, something he was proud of making. 

He pulled you from your little cloud of joy, wrapping an arm around you, his sticky suckers latching onto you as he coaxed you his way. Only then had you taken the time to admire König under blue light, cheeks warm with a burning flush and doe-like eyes staring at the naked expense of his hard abdomen, stomach sculpted to perfection that had Adonis shying away. His arms were big and round, muscles straining the scarred skin with delicious appeal. 

Downwards, following the sharp dip of his navel, were dozens of dark tentacles lined with round, pulsing suckers. Like an octopus, they were covered in a slimy sheen, every limb flexible and able to move independently. The lower ones were thick and soft, acting as a cover for whatever he hid beneath them, while some were thinner, whose source came from under his veil. Those, however, were a mix of normal and horrific tentacles, some had eyes replacing the usual suckers, tinted in the same colour as his irises, that glowing, pale blue. 

It made your body heat up, fingers tingling with nerves - or was it? When faced with something you found appealing, it’d be natural to feel flustered, no? König thought so, that’s how he spent the first days reacting to you, heating up to a bothersome flush to everything you did. He watched your awed stare, that daydreaming haze in your eyes when you looked him over, his whole body clear under the gentle light in his cave. 

“This way.”

Without making your gaze leave his figure, he drew you in, heading towards his biggest room where he caught and strung everything to fit his pleasure and mood. It was somewhere deeper into the system with walls strong and sturdy, and the round ceiling higher than the other rooms. On one side was a pile of golden objects of all shades, light yellow to a darkish gold, nearly bronze; on the other was a mix of pretty silver things and metallic black objects, rusted by age and the salty ocean; and on another, the smallest of them all, comprised of a few dozens of colourful shells and corals frozen in time that you’d given him. 

He saw your chest expand, your smile growing brighter and brighter at the pile of gifts you gave him, your bubbly laugh as you swam towards it, twirling around it proudly. You looked around the room, admiring his large collection and how it seemed to spill down every pile in an attempt to reach the other one, forming a protective ring around your presents, but always coming back to the bright pink, blue and yellow shells. You were happy and appreciative of the time he spent working and arranging his hoard. If he could, he’d preen and purr to you, to show just how much your proud smile meant to him, watching you appraise his work was satisfying. 

He already felt like things were falling into place perfectly, he could see the life he had envisioned with you coming to life, the little intricacies that popped into his mind seeming too appealing. His dreams were slowly becoming a reality, the things that he could only imagine were now tangible to his hands, and the future he salivated at was so, so close that he could sink his teeth into its flesh. 

He knew it. He knew it when he watched you swim to him with that big, adorable smile on your face, that it was in his hands. He could see it now, how his lonely cave would be filled with life and laughter, children with a mix of your beauty and his madness chasing one another between the many openings and your round, swollen stomach welcoming another of your children to the world. That was all he could think of while he cradled you in his arms, his tentacles latching to your tail and back. 

“You’re happy, ja?”

Next

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @candlewitch-cryptic @im-making-an-effort @0alk0msan 

[whatswrongwithblue]

Imagine Angel Dust questioning you on your sex life with Alastor

Part 2

“C’mon toots, you gotta give me something!”

“I absolutely do not,” you say stubbornly, turning away from the spider demon but he just scooted closer to you on the couch, practically looming over you.

“Pleeeaaase. I can’t figure the guy out. He’s all flamboyant and goofy one minute and then terrifying and menacing the next. How does that translate in bed? Is he a bottom? A switch? A top?” Angel leaned impossibly closer, his voice taking on a more conspiratorial tone. “Does he let you peg him?”

“Angel!” you exclaimed, leaning over the side of the couch to get away, “that is really none of your business! And he would rip your arms off if he heard you asking such things.”

Angel Dust huffed, frustrated, and folded both sets of arms across his chest, practically pouting.

“This is just unfair. I tell you so much about my work, I don’t hold anything back.”

“I wish you would,” you mumbled, recalling the last disturbingly detailed conversation you were forced to listen to. You still shuddered when you thought about your friend participating in “sounding” or “donkey shows.”

“Alright, well you gotta at least tell me this much,” he said, sitting back up and holding two hands up in front of him. “How big is the guy?”

You shook your head, trying to pull out your phone and ignore him.

“This big?” he asked, holding his hands out about 8 inches apart. “Or this big?” His hands got a couple inches farther apart. “Or, I know, he’s gotta be like THIS big, huh?” Angel’s hands were now over a foot apart from each other.

“Oh my God, don’t be gross Angel, that wouldn’t even fit inside of me.”

“Okaaaaaay,” Angel said with a smirk, “so not as big as some of the Hellhounds I gotta take up the ass.”

“Please stop,” you groan, burying your face in your hands.

“Not until you tell me something juicy about your boyfriend.”

“Ugggghh, seriously, fine,” you say, defeated, and Angel sat forward eagerly, “I mean you’ve obviously seen him shape shift into taller forms. So, let’s just say . . . he’s as big as he . . . or I . . . want him to be.”

“Hmmmm,” Angel said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not a lot to go off of but I think I like your way of thinking. So, like this big then?”

You didn’t even look over to see how far apart Angel’s hands were now.

“What’s the record for how many times he’s made you cum in one night?”

“Angel, you said you would stop!” you yelled, feeling a blush begin to heat up your face.

“A lot huh? Because that, my friend, is the face of a woman who’s lost count,” he said with a knowing smirk.

“I am not dignifying that comment with a response.”

“I’m just sayin,’ I’ve seen you first thing in the mornings. You have the look of a gal who’s well satisfied.”

“Well, I am,” you say, “but that’s all decency will allow me to say. Alastor is a very private man and you should respect that.”

“Decency Schmeecency,” Angel said, throwing himself back into the couch cushions and picking up his own phone, looking bored with the conversation now. “This is Hell, there’s no such thing.”

Relieved he seemed to be dropping the subject, you pick up your own phone and enjoy a couple minutes of silence to scroll through your Sinstagram feed.

“Oh fuck me!” Angel exclaimed, startling you and making you drop your phone.

“What?!”

“That guy has got tentacles!”

There was no stopping the rush of blood to your face then . . . or the little smirk you just couldn’t seem to stop, though you did try and look away.

“Ooooooooh, oh doll face, you can’t hide that look from me,” Angel said, practically crawling over the couch to invade your space once again, “he has totally used those on you, hasn’t he?”

You turned to look at Angel, another retort about privacy ready on your tongue, but your eyes widen in horror as you see two shadowy tendrils raising up behind your friend’s back.

Angel registered the look on your face and sat back an inch.

“Wha-“

The tentacles grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him back to his side of the couch, and holding him down.

“I believe the lady said something about decency,” Alastor’s staticky voice said from somewhere behind the couch and then his shadow rose up from the ground before solidifying into the full glory of his demonic form. His body unnaturally long, antlers spread out wide, he towered over the spider demon he had pinned to the sofa.

“S-s-sorry man,” Angel said with a loud gulp, “I was just kidding around, you know,” he tried to chuckle nervously. “I-it was just girl talk.”

“Alastor,” you said, unbothered by your lover’s terrifying demonic appearance, “let him go. He’s harmless.”

“Hmmm,” Alastor said, tilting his head, eyes glowing brighter as he put on a show of considering the prey he had trapped in his tentacles. “Fine.”

Alastor dropped the tentacles from around Angel and within a blink of an eye, was back to his usual form, straightening his bow tie and brushing off the sleeves of his jacket.

“Ready for our lunch date?” you said, bouncing up off the couch and coming to stand by Alastor, who smiled down at you and looped an arm through yours.

“Sounds lovely, darling,” he replied, guiding the two of you around the back of the couch and towards the front of the lobby. “I’m positively starving.”

At the word “starving,” Alastor leaned over the couch, his glowing, toothy expression letting Angel know just how close he had come to being the cannibal’s lunch.

Angel sank deeper into the couch cushions in submission, eyes wide and fixed on Alastor, as the two of you headed for the front doors.

Alastor opened the door, but you paused after stepping through, grabbing the handle and shooting your friend a mischievous smile and wiggling your eyebrows in a suggestive manner at him. It was your own way of confirming his last line of questioning before Alastor had interrupted. You watched Angel’s jaw drop open and then closed the door, leaving him to his imagination.

Husk, who had been silently watching the entire thing from his place at the bar, began laughing.

“Yeah, he totally fucks her with those things,” he said, before taking a swig from his beer bottle. “Did you see the way she looked at them? She was almost jealous when he had you pinned to the sofa.”

“Jesus Christ,” Angel said, still panting a little. “Yeah, I don’t blame her. That was hot as fuck.”

[wing-ed-thing]

Rainy Day (Crocodile x Reader)

Synopsis: You find yourself caught in the rain with a pirate.

Word Count: 1.5k

Tags/Warnings: No Reader Pronouns, Fluff

Notes: *blub blub*

“I guess you don’t like the rain either?”

Crocodile wasn’t expecting you to speak, let alone with the light laugh you held in your voice. It threw him off acutely, causing him to raise a slight brow as he regarded you from his periphery. 

You pulled your thin sweater across your chest, still holding your light grocery shopping in one hand. Your sorry excuse for a jacket looked completely drenched through, which didn’t surprise Crocodile in the face of the downpour just a few feet before you. 

You sought refuge under the same storefront canopy, watching enviously as people ran by with umbrellas and sporting dry-looking rain boots. But the streets quickly vacated, leaving you and Crocodile stranded in the only spot of semi-dry cover. Water rushed the street, leaving a river about ankle-deep in its wake. The drains weren’t formidable enough to stop the backup, causing little whirlpools to swirl on the roads. Even where the both of you stood, rain rushed in a thin layer under your shoes. 

“I should have known I wouldn’t be able to make it back in time, but—” You glanced at Crocodile with a smile. —“You don’t look like you’re from around here, huh? No one probably told you about the downpours.”

It was the second time you’d regarded him so casually, and Crocodile wasn’t used to anyone speaking to him in such a blasé way. No one had ever tried to make inane chitchat about the weather with him before, especially not at his towering height and with the jagged facial scar he sported with menacing pride. He had a hook for a hand, and you were talking to him without an ounce of hesitation.

“Hasn’t anyone taught you not to talk to strangers?” Crocodile gruffed, avoiding your gaze as he scanned the environment outside your canopy. The rain was falling in sheets without sign of letting up anytime soon. You laughed again.

“Maybe when I was a kid, but as an adult, wouldn’t that make us both strangers?” 

“That doesn’t make a lot of sense.” 

“No, I guess not.”

Crocodile barely listened as he dug into his jacket breast pocket to fish out a cigar. He placed one between his lips before toying with his lighter. It took a few strokes for it to ignite, but Crocodile was eventually able to take a long drag of his cigar. And as he released a massive cloud of smoke from his lungs, he hoped it would be enough of a deterrent for you to stop your chatter. 

There was a pause as the pitter-patter of raindrops hit the ground. 

“Is that Al Fakher—?”

—“Fucking hell—” Crocodile turned to face you fully, ripping his cigar from his lips as he threw his hook up in vexation. But even as he scowled at you, your expression didn’t change. “Do you not have any survival instinct? Any at all? For all you know, I could be a pirate here to pillage your village—”

“Oh, you most certainly are,” you hummed with a nod, and the singular action took Crocodile aback. 

His words stopped on his lips instantly as he scrutinized you, forehead knitted together as he took another drag of his cigar in contemplation. His weight shifted to his back leg, his scowl deepening by the second. 

“What makes you say that?” 

He noted your three-point glance. 

“You’re kidding, right?” 

Crocodile’s brows bounced on his forehead as he took another puff. He crossed his arms over his chest. He wore his usual heavy fur coat, which usually did the trick regarding light sprinkles. If it were any heavier, Crocodile might have braved the dismal downpour just a few feet ahead. 

The rain on this island came often, and when it rained, it poured. Although, the rain was typically unaccompanied by other characteristics of a storm. Lightning was absent from the grey clouds above, and thunder hardly rang out over the skies. It was all just rain.

“You’re an odd one, I’ll give you that,” Crocodile muttered. Smoke continued to take up the space under the canopy, dispersing into the muggy atmosphere. He had been weighing braving the downpour in the face of your talk, but the rushing water became less appealing as he puffed on his cigar. Crocodile eyed you from his peripheral. “You’re not scared or nothin’.”

It was equally a question as it was a musing.

“Oh… should I be?”

And just like that, the rain stopped. It dropped in one final sheet like someone switched off a lever. The pool of water on the ground slowly swirled into the sewer grates, and the clouds above remained grey and dark. 

“Yeah,” he answered, taking his cigar between his fingers. Crocodile’s hook glinted in the low light. “You should.” 

He turned to face you fully. His towering shadow engulfed you in the changing light. You stepped out onto the sidewalk, your head tilted upward and your palm extended as you checked for lingering sprinkles. And once the skies had been vetted for rain, you turned to look back at Crocodile with a cheeky smile.

“Why should I be scared when I have you to protect me?” 

The cigar nearly fell out of Crocodile’s mouth as you turned to walk down the road, your words only stalling him for a moment before he stormed after you. His long coat whipped in his wake. 

“Now, wait a goddamn minute,” he gruffed. You continued to make your way down the road. Crocodile walked closely, almost diagonally, behind you as he positioned himself in your peripheral. “I don’t play bodyguard, especially not to some random villager when my bounty—”

“Oh, I’m sure it’s very high,” you hummed, glancing at him briefly out of the corner of your eye. Crocodile scowled as he narrowed his eyes.

“I don’t like the way you said that…” His hand shot out to grab you by the back of your shirt, stopping you in your tracks with little resistance. Crocodile hasn’t expected to have to fight to still you, but you seemed to immediately stop the moment he grabbed you. That oddity alone was enough for him to recoil his touch slowly. 

You turned, pivoting slightly on your heel to meet his gaze.

“I wasn’t being sarcastic by any means. I can only imagine how powerful a pirate you must be,” you sighed, glancing off to the side in thought with a shrug before meeting his stare once more. “I don’t know anything about that kind of stuff, but even I can see that… But you don’t seem that bad.” 

And just like before, you began to walk off. Crocodile followed as you took a turn down a side street. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I suppose it means that I don’t think you seem like a, uh… bad guy, I guess?” You splashed through a puddle with your knee-high boots, paying no mind to the ankle, deep water as Crocodile stood on the significantly dryer sidewalk. He glowered as tiny droplets flew onto the ankle of his slacks. 

“You’d be wrong about that,” he huffed as you returned to the sidewalk, now walking next to him as you trailed water on the ground below. Your footsteps grew dryer as you went. 

“You’re gonna fight me about being a bad guy? Isn’t that a little cartoonish? Childish?” You walked up a flight of stairs with Crocodile following alongside you. For every two steps you had to make, Crocodile made one before you stopped at the landing.

Crocodile let out a boisterous laugh, paying little actual attention to you as he regarded you incredulously. 

“You’re one to talk!” 

“You can disagree, I guess. But I don’t think a bad guy would walk me all the way home,” you hummed, placing your key in the lock to your front door. 

You didn’t seem to bother even to catch Crocodile’s violent recoil. He jerked back, gaze immediately flying to the front of the building he found himself standing in front of. It was a modest stone front with identical ones sandwiched on either side. Each boasted a set of stone steps leading up to deep-green colored doors. Romantic street lamps illuminated the road below.

You opened the door, and before he knew it, you had one foot inside as you turned to Crocodile.

“Did you want to come in?”

“You’ve lost your mind.”

You turned back to the dark entrance hall, flicking on the light just inside the doorway with a shrug.

“Well, if you change your mind, just knock, I guess.” And before Crocodile could say a word, the door shut behind you, and the latch of the lock clicked firmly. 

Crocodile turned with a sigh, still trying to wrap his head around what just happened as he moved to take a step down the stone staircase. But in an ironic twist of fate, thunder cracked above, and the sheets of rain dropped from the clouds with force. No canopy could save him from the elements this time. Crocodile took one last puff of his cigar before the onslaught of raindrops put it out, leaving his hair soaked and water dropping off his nose. 

[avatar-anna]

please please pleeeeeease more of assistant×harry!! 🥺

Assistant! Reader x Harry Styles Masterlist

August 2013

In just a year of being Harry Styles’ assistant, Y/n had seen a lot, experienced a lot, and learned to expect just about anything, which was why her head began to throb before they even touched down in Las Vegas.

“Here,” a voice said from above her. Y/n was supposed to be answering emails and prepping for all the appearances Harry was supposed to make before the jet landed, but she decided to close her eyes. Just for a few minutes. Not that anyone would’ve noticed, anyway. The boys were all hanging out in the back of the plane, and Natalie, Zayn’s assistant, was watching the boys to make sure they didn’t get into too much trouble. All the assistants took turns when the boys of One Direction were in a confined space together; tag teaming just seemed the fairest deal.

When she peeked an eye open, though, she was surprised to see Harry standing beside her seat, a mug in his outstretched hand. Smiling, she took it, watching through tired eyes as he sat down across from her. He was in a red flannel shirt, though it was hardly buttoned, and the black skinny jeans he’d taken to wearing almost the entire tour. He had multiple pairs, all the same exact brand and style, just in case one ripped. Y/n would know. She had to race all over Manhattan when that very nightmare happened and Harry didn’t have any backups. Now there were at least four in his suitcase at all times. And an extra one in her backpack just to be safe. Harry swore the bag that followed her everywhere was made of magic because her whole life—and his—was nearly placed in there. But Y/n knew it wasn’t magic, she was just prepared for everything.

“I told the boys we’d be on our best behavior while we’re here. Just for you,” Harry said, giving Y/n his most innocent grin.

She’d seen that grin too many times to believe him, but the sentiment was nice. He and the boys were never menaces to her or the other assistants per day, but their antics did make her life more difficult depending on what they got up to. “That’s sweet of you.”

“I’m a sweet guy,” Harry said with a grin. Then with a nod toward Y/n’s phone, he asked, “Who’re you texting over there?”

“I’m not texting anyone. I’m sending emails,” she said.

“What? Even while we’re in the air?” he asked incredulously. “Do you ever not work?”

Y/n grinned. “Of course.”

“Well then put the phone down and talk to me. I feel like I've known you forever but I don't actually know you” Harry said, and it sounded like he was almost whining.

Y/n looked up from her phone. Harry’s eyes were pleading as he leaned forward in his seat. She was honestly a little surprised that he was so insistent that she talk to him. He was always nice of course, and they’d had brief conversations that didn’t involve work here and there, but Harry didn’t know much about Y/n personally. She kept her personal life private for the most part, for no other reason than she liked to keep things professional while she was working.

Setting her phone down, Y/n crossed her leg over the other and looked at Harry expectantly. "Alright. What would you like to know?"

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

Y/n choked on the tea Harry had given her. "That's the question you want to start with?"

Harry shrugged before leaning in playfully. "Are you avoiding the question?"

"No. To both questions," she answered honestly.

"Hm."

"Hm? What's that supposed to mean?" Y/n asked. She thought they were having a lighthearted conversation but Harry looked contemplative.

"Why not?" he asked, not answering her question.

Y/n ran a tired hand over her face. "This is starting to feel like an interrogation, Mr. Styles."

"Sorry, sorry, I don't mean to pry," he said, leaning back in his seat. The playful gleam in his green eyes told Y/n differently, though. "I just feel like you know a lot of intimate details about my life, and all I know is that you like cinnamon bagels and have an affinity for wearing black. And you always manage to wake up before I do, which just seems outrageous to me sometimes."

Y/n pondered what he said and supposed he had a point. She did know a lot about Harry's relationships, or the intimate details of his life he referred to based on his line of questioning. But it was her job to know. She made sure he was up and ready each day, she ensured that no one night stands overstayed their welcome or helped themselves to his clothes after he was gone; she was privy to his PR dates and the ones he wanted no one else to know about. Their... relationship was one sided, and Y/n didn't fault him for his curiosity.

"You know how I take my tea, and that I drink tea at all," she finally said, her voice light.

Harry smiled, as if he'd been waiting to engage in whatever game he'd been trying to play with her since he sat down across from her. "I noticed you reach for the tea packets whenever we fly."

"It relaxes me," Y/n admitted.

"Do you not like flying?"

Y/n shrugged, trying to act more casual than she felt. "It's mostly the takeoff and landing. I don't know it just...freaks me out a little. All the jostling and pressure and whatnot."

"You picked a strange job if you don't like to fly, I'm afraid," Harry said.

"Hence the herbal tea. I'd take something a little stronger if I didn't think you boys would do something the minute my eyes were closed."

"We wouldn't—I would never—You can take a nap around us, Y/n," Harry said, frowning as if he were truly offended by what she said. "I know we like to pull pranks or whatever, but we wouldn't. I wouldn't let them do that to you."

His sincerity was sweet, his gaze hard and imploring. Y/n didn't mean for their conversation to turn down this route but somehow it did, and she couldn't help but notice how angular Harry's features were when he looked at her like that. Protective.

Something light and airy unfurled in her belly that she pointedly ignored.

"I was mostly kidding, but thank you."

And just like that, the hard look was gone, the tense fog lifted. Harry grinned and reached in his back pocket, pulling out a deck of cards. “Play with me?”

“You don’t want to play with the boys?” Y/n asked, genuinely curious.

“I need to practice for this weekend, and they’re not good enough competition.”

“Oh, and I am?” she said. Y/n knew how to play cards, but she wasn’t any kind of pro.

"We're about to find out."

Harry set the cards on the table between them and split the deck to shuffle them. Y/n watched his hands as the cards shuffled between his long, nimble fingers. There were calluses on them now from learning to play the guitar. He was a couple months in, and he was already pretty good. Harry often played the new songs or chords he learned for her, eager to show his progress and knowing she wouldn’t judge him when his fingers slipped from time to time.

When he finally stopped, Y/n realized she’d been openly staring at his hands for a little too long. She snapped her head up, thankful that Harry hadn’t caught her staring. Shuffling around in her seat, she asked, “What are we playing?”

*.*

Later that night, Y/n was alone in her hotel room. One Direction’s performance in Las Vegas went off without a hitch, and the boys had hit the Strip to celebrate. Harry insisted she join them, promising a night she would never forget, but she declined. She had plans of her own tonight.

Finishing the last touches on her hair and giving herself one last check in the mirror, Y/n grabbed her keys and her purse. A knock on the door sounded, and thinking it was Natalie, Y/n rushed to open it. When she did, her eyes widened.

“Mr. Styles? What are you doing here?”

Harry was in fact standing on the other side of her door, a bottle of champagne in one hand and the same deck of cards they’d played with on the plane in the other. They'd played until it was time for landing. Y/n had a large pile of candy by the end of it—Harry had wanted to play with real money but Y/n joked she couldn't afford to play real poker with him. And as the plane started to descend, Harry switched seats so that he was beside her, offered his hand for her to squeeze until the plane finally touched down. It had been the most tension-free landing of the tour for Y/n, and though neither of them said anything about it, Harry knew she was grateful for him being there.

He looked sheepish now as he took her in, the realization that she was on her way out striking him as he saw her clothes—a pair of jeans and a black button down top that was only buttoned in the middle, and black boots to match.

“Sorry, I wasn’t feeling up for going out tonight, so I came down here to—but of course you have plans. It’s your night off, you’re allowed to—”

“Is everything okay, Mr. Styles?” you asked with a furrowed brow. “Did you need me to call a doctor? Run down to the pharmacy? I can—”

“No, I…I came here to—to play cards again, but if you already have plans I won’t get in your way.”

Y/n’s head tilted to the side, partly confused and partly endeared. Harry was a kind boss, but he’d never come to her hotel room to hang out before, especially when parties and liquor were guaranteed elsewhere. The time she spent with him was strictly professional.

“Natalie and I had planned to go out tonight,” she said, looking down at her purse.

Y/n didn’t often go out while on tour, but Natalie knew someone that could get them into some exclusive rooftop bar with discounted drinks. She hadn’t had a night off in a while and thought it would be a fun and responsible way to spend her time in Vegas. But now that Harry was here…

“I can cancel—”

“Don’t you dare,” Harry said, stepping away from the door. His eyes trailing up and down her body in a way that didn’t feel entirely professional. A look Y/n chose to ignore. “I should’ve asked you earlier.”

“Are you sure? I mean, you could always come with us,” Y/n said.

She wasn’t sure how Natalie would feel about that. Her friend had made it clear that she wanted a night away from the boys of One Direction so she could let loose a little. But she didn’t want to just leave Harry on her doorstep.

“No, no, you go. I’m not in a partying mood tonight,” Harry said, waving Y/n off.

“If you’re sure,” she said.

“I’m sure.”

“Next time, then,” she offered.

Harry smiled. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Then, before she could say anything else, Harry fished his wallet out of his back pocket. He pulled out a couple bills and handed them to her. Y/n tried to protest, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer, making sure he watched her put the money in her purse. “And take my driver too. There’s a lot of creeps out there. Dominic will take good care of you.”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles,” Y/n said graciously.

“No problem, Y/n, and for the last time, it’s Harry.”

Y/n grinned as she let the door shut behind her. “Whatever you say, Mr. Styles.”

*.*

Y/n trudged through the halls of the lavish hotel, her boots shuffling tiredly across the carpet. She’d had a good night, but when Natalie and a group they’d met at the bar wanted to move onto a club, Y/n decided it was time to go. She had her fun, but she wasn’t the clubbing type, and she had to be up early the next morning.

And she couldn’t help but think about Harry sitting around in his hotel room all alone. She spent nearly every waking moment with him, and yet on her night off, she felt the need to go see him, be with him. Y/n enjoyed hanging out with Harry on the plane to Vegas. It had been the first time they’d interacted with each other in a non-professional way. He told her goofy jokes and playfully tried to peek at her cards, a look of genuine surprise when she beat him on more than one occasion.

For a moment, Y/n had actually forgotten that he wasn’t her boss and that she wasn’t his assistant. For a moment, they were just two friends going on a trip somewhere.

And for whatever reason, Y/n wanted to revisit that moment. She bypassed her floor’s button on the elevator, opting to press the one a few levels up from hers. The hall was quiet, which made sense if the other boys were still out. Harry told Y/n earlier that he wanted a quiet night in, but as she approached his door, she heard music and muffled voices from the other side. She had his extra key and would’ve been able to enter no problem, but when she made it to the double doors of Harry’s suite, she elected to knock. Maybe she should’ve left when she realized he had company, but she stayed, eager to see him for some reason.

It took a minute or two for someone to answer. With the music so loud, Y/n wasn’t surprised no one could hear her knock. She nearly gave up after knocking a third time, the door finally opened.

“Can I help you?”

It was a young man. A handsome young man with short brown hair and freckles over his nose and a deep skin tone. His eyes looked droopy, like he’d woken up just to answer the door. Or had recently smoked a joint. The latter was more likely.

“I’m Mr. Styles’ assistant. I just thought I would check in. He has an early morning tomorrow.”

“Oh. Um…He’s…busy?” the man said, clearly not wanting the fun to stop. “Should I get him for you?”

Y/n had never been in this predicament before. Sure, she knew Harry occasionally liked to invite someone into his hotel room for a night of fun, and this wasn’t the first time she’d found another boy keeping him company in this way. The first time that happened, Harry wouldn’t meet her eye for a whole day, but she never judged him for it, and she never said a word of it to him or anyone else. That was his personal business, not hers.

So the boy wasn’t what caught her off guard. It was that he was awake. Y/n always interacted with Harry’s one, sometimes two, night stands the morning after, equipped with a pen and an NDA, and possibly a sharp wit, depending on how reluctant the individual was to leave. But she’d never been in this position before, in the middle of it. She felt embarrassed, at a loss for words.

“N—No,” she finally said. “He just told me he wasn’t feeling well earlier. I thought I’d check on him before heading to bed, but…it seems like he’s feeling better.”

That’s and understatement, Y/n thought. She felt disappointed for some reason. She knew she shouldn’t have, but she really thought Harry would want to hang out, that he would somehow be waiting for her to come back, which was stupid. He had no reason to.

Y/n finally started to shuffle away, leaving Harry and his companion to his own devices. The door shut after the young man gave her a small smile and a wave, leaving her alone in an all too quiet hallway, the sounds of their voices muffled by the thin walls.

Sleep was in order. She knew that she was probably having an off day. Too much traveling, no doubt. Harry wasn’t her friend. She was his assistant, hired by his management team to make sure his every need and whim was met and sought to. Tomorrow she would wake up and remember that.

*.*

The next morning when Y/n stepped onto the plane, Harry was already seated in her little corner of the jet, a deck of cards, two steaming mugs, a multitude of snacks, and a big blanket were waiting. He didn't say anything about last night, so she didn't either. Not a word was said at all during takeoff, Harry merely offered his hand again, and when the plane was leveled in the air, he took out the deck of cards.

"Up for another round? This time Oreos are on the line so I'm less inclined to lose."

After that, plane rides weren't so bad anymore.

[libraryraccoon]

I saw the Floyd request and I thought of rook hunt in hasbin hotel.

Rip Alastor his privacy he now became the hunted the both speaking French .

Imagine rook talking about angel dust his inner beauty is making him feel loved every day saying something positive.

And Charlie and vaggie getting put on romantic dates by rook and lucifer and rook seeing them ta about how beautiful love is.

Gender : GN

Pronouns : no real pronouns used(sometimes they/them)

Character : Alastor, general headcanon

Message from Raccoon : I was also thinking of a rook!reader while writing the Floyd!Reader tbh.

TW : ROOK!READER, a little suggestive

The Demon Of Hunt, a very strong overlord who knows everything about everyone. A predator whose prey are doomed to die.

They aren't a demon you want to mess with, you don't want to be their prey.

In their lifetime a very famous hunter living in a small village, in their death The Demon Of Hunt, the hunter everyone is afraid of.

Alastor

He met you when he was still killing overlords.

“Now, isn’t that a rather crude way of killing ?” You asked behind him.

How long have you been behind Alastor ? He has no idea.

“Oh ! And what a beautiful deer tail you have there ! C'est magnifique !” You say, touching Alastor's deer tail; ignoring the fact that you had just seen him kill an overlord.

He straight up hated you.

But he also found you interesting, especially when you could see through all his attacks.

Boring, but entertaining.

After that, you didn't let him go.

You followed him, stalking him, wherever he went.

Like a predator with its prey, observing it before killing it.

When he left for 7 years, he finally thought he had lost you…

You followed him.

For 7 fucking years he had to stay with you.

Even 8V>× didn't want to make a contract with you after seeing how weird you were.

Not to mention all the times you talked about love…

*add a disgusted Alastor*

You interfered in his life and never left, even though he tried to reject you.

And let's not even talk about your strange comments…

"Oh ! I wonder what red deer would taste like for dinner ! Or maybe a red wendigo ! Qu'en pense tu, Alastor ?"

“Red deer ?” *remembers that he is, technically, some sort of red deer/wendigo as a demon.* "Ha ha ! Stay 100km/h away from me."

When you arrived at the hotel, Alastor finally felt free ! After all his years of being the stolkant, you finally left him alone !

Well, not always, after all you would never leave your prey friend alone for too long, but you weren't with him all the time.

Alastor won't lie, not being with you 24/7 after so long was weird…

He finally had privacy-

100% complained to Rosie about you.

“And they never gave me space !” -Alastor

"Really ?" -Rosie

"Well, I'll give him some time alone. For the bathroom." -Rook!Reader, arriving out of nowhere behind Alastor.

Although Alastor considers you as a menace, there are times when he is grateful to you and to be your friend.

Like those rare times of weakness, when you helped him feel better, reassured him. It was the rare times he was grateful to have you as a friend.

I just know that when you want to talk about something private/you don't want others to hear you, you speak French.

Although sometimes you just do it to piss off other people.

"Mon cher cerf préférer ! Al' ! Je viens de découvrir quelque chose sur Vox, tu vas pas y croire !"

"Je vais préparer le thé, après tu me racontera."

You turn all Overlord meetings from boring to interesting meetings.

During meetings, you had the habit of telling everyone's secrets (except Alastor's secrets, bestie privilege), and always the most interesting ! Like this time you said you saw Carmilla decapitate an exterminator !

*After the song Respectless.* "Actually, mes chers amis, it is possible, or not, that I saw Carmilla decapitate an exterminator with her shoes. C'était un combat splendide !"

General Headcanon

You don't let anyone have privacy.

They know it, but they can't say anything.

Angel Dust suffered the most of that, he saw you during one of his shoots watching him in the shadows.. It was terrifying.

“Just try to be sexy.” -Valentino looking at Angel Dust during a shoot.

"Oh, mais mon cher, he's sexy enough like this ! Take off the underwear and people will love it !" -Rook!Reader behind Valentino, coming out of nowhere.

"MOTHERFUCKER-" *Add Valentino's scream of terror.*

You comforted Angel after each shoot, cheering him up in a more or less suspicious ways.

You call Angel Dust by his real name, Anthony. You are the only one in the hotel who knows his real name and calls him like that.

Angel Dust is sort of happy that someone thinks of him as Anthony and not Angel Dust.

Valentino hates you, as do all Vees and all the demons.

Lucifer found you weird the first time he meet you, and knowing your reputation, it was normal, but in the end you got along really well.

You 🤝 Lucifer = make Charlie and Vaggie have romantic dates by candlelight.

“Ah, youthful love ! Que c'est beau !”

“I miss the love of youth..” (in a dramatically way)

Did I mention that you and Lucifer are and always will be drama queens ?

You and Lucifer are just THAT bestie duo that everyone wants to be.

I can so see you having these dinners for two in fancy restaurants while being platonic. You say the most romantic things, speaking in French, and Lucifer joins you in those moments, doing the same.

"Oh, mon chéri, you look beautiful tonight ! Even more brilliant than usual !"

"Oh, I should be the one to tell you that ! You look beyond stunning tonight in that costume !"

You are trending on the networks.

Every. Fucking. Days.

On the networks, there are 3 teams; those who ship Lucifer x Rook!Reader, those who ship Alastor x Rook!Reader, and those who say you are a hopelessromantic and/or aromantic.

They have hilarious debates that you love to join for just fuck all and everyone.

"Well, it's true that Monsieur Alastor is quite handsome, but Lucifer ? Oh, je ne sais même pas ou commencer a son sujet !" -Rook!Reader on the networks screwing up between the teams, always changing the place between Lucifer and Alastor.

You are a star in all the circles of hell fr.

One day, Charlie asked you if you were dating her father after seeing what you were doing/writing on internet.

You answered some shit like "As much as I would love to be with him, je ne pourrais qu'en rêver. He is far too good and handsome man for a simple sinner like me."

Vaggie doesn't trust you, not in a million of eons.

Sir Pentious asked if you had a death wish after he saw you touch Alastor's deer ears…

"Oh, to die by the hand of such a magnifique et servant gentleman ! What an honor that would be !"

Sir Pentious has never seen Alastor back away from someone so fast before-

Niffty like you. You regularly complimented her on her work and her beauty.

Husk, on the contrary, doesn't like you.

He had to endure you and Alastor's shit for too long, 7 years without both of you wasn't enough.

You intrude into people's intimate moments.

And by people, I mean Husk and Anthony.

Imagine Husk and Angel Dust, just being quietly alone, a super romantic moment, and then, you pop in between the two…

But sometimes when you compliment them (one time per day), they like you.

I like to think that the Tik Tok hell version is like the one of the living, with people doing random ship. And Rook!Reader live for that.

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #22

Back in my day.

Imagine dis…

Alfred is a whole mystery to the Batfam that whenever he pulls out his shotgun we are in awe at this kickass badass British butler, on the other hand, we are always in the shadows of his past endeavors. We all knew he was a S.A.S. Armed Services, fighting in 15 different operations between ages 18 and 20. A skilled medical and front liner soldier who was decorated. He later joined MI5, as well as the secret forces of the Queen and later being knighted by Her Majesty.

He is silent as he comes by, he can out Batman the Batman despite Bruce learning from the greatest assassin of all time. He is calm, too calm for any situation to the point your subconscious asks if he had seen something wilder, more insane to consider an alien attack, a mutant crocodile attack every Tuesday is considered somewhat tame, or even the rise of global or universal threats that Alfred seemed to brush it off.

So, who is he?

…

Alfred Pennyworth had always been a mysterious figure. He had dedicated his life to serving the Wayne family and their caped crusader alter-egos as Bruce Wayne's loyal butler and the revered keeper of Wayne Manor. But Alfred had held a secret for decades, one that would finally come to light most unexpectedly.

Alfred was a teenager called Danny Fenton long before he donned the perfect suit and tie. He lived in the small town of Amity Park, which was riddled with secrets of its own. Danny was not your typical adolescent; he had a strange encounter with a ghostly gateway that had bestowed upon him unusual and otherworldly skills. He had protected Amity Park from vengeful ghosts and spectral threats thanks to his power to shift into a phantom hero known as Danny Phantom.

Danny had just recently been crowned as the crowned prince of the Infinite Realm a week after he had defeated the tyrant Pariah Dark who had attempted to rip off a space in the fabric of in-between just to suck in his little quaint town. It was determined by both the ancient and the Observants that it was better for him to finish his mortal life before he dawns on the crown, as he was still growing, he was still considered a baby ghost younger than Young Blood as his death was still recent.

But slowly the thoughts that he had kept behind his head are coming back to him. Jazz his beloved sister as well as the one who had raised her despite being a child herself who had no idea of raising a child, may analyze her all she wants but she could never sympathize nor connect with his inner thoughts of being one of the halfas. He died, he never really had the time to process it because he had to face the Lunch Lady just a few days after the accident. 

His friends, now looking at them closely, have seen that they both have some sort of guilt in their eyes. They both have seen him die amid the electrician, he can’t help but feel some sort of longing at the cemetery the north of Amity Park, he is too alive to have a grave yet too dead to be alive.

He thought he was getting there, changing the views of the people. To show the world that his kind is sentient but the people kept whispering. Shadows cast long by the looming specters sent chills down their spines. Every eerie wail or flicker of a ghostly presence filled them with dread. Their eyes widened in terror as the ethereal figures materialized before them. A hushed silence fell over the town when ghostly battles raged in the skies. Parents warned their children to stay indoors when the ghost alarms rang. Fearful whispers of the "Ghost Boy" circulated, both a hero and a phantom menace. 

The ghostly encounters left scars of fear etched in the minds of Amity Park's residents.

In the end, he was forced to leave his home dimension, why? It’s because the GIW have become more vicious more brutal at their hunting, With the sacrifice of both his friends and family they have shoved him into the portal, never to be seen again.

…

All bloodied and still injured he had landed in a period in the early 1900. He thought that he may have accidentally traveled back in time but when he saw too many conflicting events that he had learned during his high school days that didn’t happen during this time led him to believe that he had traveled a different dimension. Small ripples in the water created a tsunami of change in what he previously known as the past, when he was still in the streets gathering information, he had noticed that he landed in the middle of London during the early 1900s. Good enough that child labor laws are still not a thing so he can work with practically anyone without questions asked. The bad news is that his supposed great-grandfather's version in this dimension had already died, according to his family tree history during his science project in 4th grade his great-grandfather went to London to earn a few bucks before traveling back to America where he would meet his supposed great grandmother and have children. Since he died before he even went back to America the Nightgale-Fenton line died with him.

Luckily a barren couple took pity on him and took him in, since Danny can’t no longer bear his original last name, he embraced the new name from this nice couple who had taken him in. Danny may have felt guilty at the prospect or even the idea of replacing his family but he can’t help but think of it as a new beginning of his life. No one to hunt down his ghostly half, No GIW, and No fruit loop trying to turn him into his heir.

Alfred Pennyworth

During this time he did a lot of odd jobs, cleaning the inside of a chimney, mining, selling newspapers… etc. Sure, it was hard work and he can’t help but look at the children far younger than him taking in jobs far more dangerous just so they can shave something to eat. He can’t help but feel too blessed when he was back in his timeline. Warn food to eat under a sturdy roof to keep out the elements as well as education. Things that were too mundane, too common, that he now feels like a luxury. 

Over time he developed an accent as well as new mannerisms and vocabulary. 

So, when war broke out on the horizon his core ached at the notion of protection thus signed up in the military. 

Sure, he became the most feared soldier in the fields due to his using some of his ghostly abilities subtly. His enemies who stand in front of him call him The Vengeful Orphan, due to his avenging every soldier who seems to die at the hands of their enemies. 

Between the ages of 18 and 20, he served in the S.A.S. Armed Services, engaging in 15 different actions. A decorated medical specialist and front-line soldier. He then joined MI5, as well as the Queen's secret forces, and was knighted by Her Majesty.

…

As time passes by the ages, slowly but surely. He had already outlived his adoptive parents and friends of his. He still held the authority of being the officially crowned prince of the Infinite Realms. He had already explored the world experiencing the culture and history of this world.

At this time, he had already recovered enough ectoplasm to turn back to his ghostly prime and create a portal to the Infinite Realms. But something in him nagged, his core kept trying to tell him something when he was about to take a step inside the portal, but he didn’t seem to know why. His years as Phantom and Alfred Pennyworth taught him to listen to his guts, and it saved him multiple times, without looking back he stayed in this dimension until his mortal life perished.

It seemed that he didn’t have to find it for too long as he was approached by none other than Thomas Wayne with the preposition to be Wayne’s butler.

So, when little Bruce Wayne was born he couldn’t help but feel a little fond of the tyke. He reminded Bruce of himself when he was just a simple young boy before everything. When the fated, night came he tried to shield Bruce from everything, to have him resemble a somewhat normal life. 

That night he tucked in a teary-eyed Bruce into bed who had just witnessed his parent’s murder. He faced the ghosts of both Martha and Thomas who had been with the young master since the incident a few hours ago and tearfully promised the two ghostly couple that he would take care of Bruce. Both couples seemed to be in shock at their butler who had seen them but felt relief that their boy was in safe hands.

…

When his ward Bruce Wayne turned into a crime-fighting vigilante, he can’t help but softly snort at his outfit. Sure, he admits he had a worse outfit when he started as Phantom when he was just a young lad but he is willing to take anything other than a furry suit that fights crime at night. He has no right to criticize either since his alter ego is just him with an inverted color without a mask yet people seem to make no connection between him and Phantom, in his defense he is a young teen whereas Bruce is in his 20s. He just raised an eyebrow at his outfit and Bruce immediately changed the design to be a bit more sophisticated than just a Halloween costume of a bat.

…

So when Bruce starts to bring in orphans he can’t help but smile fondly as the manor is slowly filled with such joy from each child that seems to find a home in the large manor. He can't help but reminisce if this could have been his life if Vlad had learned to forgive Jack or if his parents and Amity Park just accepted him if the GIW didn’t exist. He thought one day when he was drinking tea with Jason, Jason who died and came back different, never broken. His grandchild who experienced his death in a slow yet painful way died and came back later. He knew there was something different with his grave but he chalked it up in being his ghostly sense sensing the ectoplasm around Gotham. He just wished he checked the grave even though it holds so much sentimental value to the dead. 

Don’t get him wrong the moment Jason came back to enact his revenge on B he was already aware something was in Gotham he just didn’t know at the time that it was Jason. He is more than happy to kill the Joker as he had taken mortal lives when he was serving the army but Bruce might notice and he still held fear at the idea of Dan.

After the entire revelation between his son and grandchild, he just welcomed back Jason into the manor as if nothing was wrong with the boy and prepared his favorite dish and snacks in the library whenever he visited.

…

Now it had been a long way since he entered this dimension, now the long table at the manor is filled with guests and children alike. His grandchildren are full of life despite what had life thrown at them. Dick was the first one to arrive and started, Barbara followed, Jason who took off the wheel, Tim with his brilliant mind with his worrying caffeine intake, Stephanie who fought with his father, Cassandra who started just to atone for the sin of killing her father yet became loyal and caring young lady and Damian who started to learn what humanity is like. Sure others had been emotionally adopted but all of them all have places in the manor.

…

His grandchildren as well as his pseudo son kept throwing him curious glances every time, He managed to seemingly appear behind them to notify them of dinner. He can also feel the envy of walking silently from the assassin-trained children. He can feel Bruce’s stare whenever he raises an eyebrow at some classified cases that are supposedly secured. He can hear their whispers as they exclaim to one another that he supposedly knew everything, of course, he knew everything the manor became his new haunt after a few years.

…

He already raised an eyebrow at the simultaneous alarm from every vigilante at the dinner table but imagine his surprise when he joined in looking over the Bat computer as Oracle barked out orders and instructions, as a familiar opponent showed itself.

A green glowing monster is wreaking havoc throughout Gotham it came from Central City and marched its way here to Gotham which became even more powerful due to the ectoplasm in the air. There is already notable damage from both cities as the rest of the heroes seem to work together to evacuate and stop the creature. The JLD attacks seem to have some effect but it was useless due to its minions that kept them occupied. Oracle is so focused on the situation and doesn’t notify their pseudo grandfather to disappear from behind her.

…

The entire JL is starting to feel hopeless as the green creature seems to raze Gotham as if the stone road is made out of water. Every magician and heavy hitter have been called but no one was able to put damage to the creature.

When all hopes seemed lost, they all heard a loud bang from a shotgun.

Alfred Pennyworth is standing on top of a rubble of concrete and metal, the butler of Batman, the pseudo father, and grandfather of the entire bat clan, also known as Agent A. Carrying his signature shotgun and a thermos that seems to strap to his hip like a belt. 

He kept firing round after round from his trusty old shotgun and pausing for a second to reload. He glanced at the heroes around and seemed to raise an eyebrow at the absolute massacre that he had just done to the creature’s minions.

As he paused to take another reload, he paused at movement and looked at the space in front of him and waited. The creature appeared roaring out in fury but seemed to pause the moment it laid eyes on Alfred. The creature seems to shake with uncertainty and fear. Every vigilante and hero present could see its eyes growing wide from shock and fear as well the cold sweat as Alfred raised an eyebrow at the creature as he slowly walked towards the creature with annoyance with every step.

Some heroes who had enhanced hearing could hear Alfred muttering about, back in his day blob ghosts were these cute and harmless things but now some up-start wannabe newly formed one seems to think he is all hot shot. 

He proceeds to scold the creature as if he had just caught one of his grandchildren sneaking their hands on the cookie jar and proceeds to take out the thermos and effectively catch the creature. As if the one responsible for the mess never existed in the first place.

Now the bat clan has rules when they are in the manor or the presence of Alfred and one of those rules is that there will be no swearing when he is around, but there is one word that seems to resound from each hero's mind.

What the fuck just happened?!?!

…

Now as you know I started to post less, now it is both from writer’s block and class being in the way.

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

[whynotjohnlock]

Doctor who incorrect quotes!

AAaAaaAhHhhHhH! I'm trapped in a cycle where I need some comfort so I watch this man child do silly things for 45 minutes but every episode I end up in tears because some I'm attached to Dies, so I need more comfort from doctor who but then my hearts get ripped out again so I start watching more Doctor who and then-

Here's some dumb stuff to brighten your day!

----------------------------------------------------------

The Doctor: I WOULD DESTROY THE WORLD FOR YOU!

(Y/N): Okay, can you do the dishes?

The Doctor: No!

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The Doctor: Do not test me (Y/N)! I am the last timelord-

(Y/N): What about Ranni and the Master and literally like every 10 adventures where they just randomly appear? Not to mention all the other versions of yourself you seem to keep running into.

The Doctor: I've killed thousands of innocent beings and creatures and-

(Y/N): Haven't we all stepped on an ant pile or on grass before?

The Doctor: (Y/N), we are not the same I've lived for hundreds of years-

(Y/N): Isn't that a perfectly normal age for a Timelord? Hundreds of years only sounds impressive because I'm human.

The Doctor: You will wither and die and I will have to live on alone-

(Y/N): Do you not consider the TARDIS company? Isn't she literally sentient?

The Doctor: .......

The Doctor: *grumpily stomps in the TARDIS*

The Doctor: I need a dumber companion next time.

----------------------------------------------------------

The Doctor: Bowties are cool!

Y/N: *confused* I never said there weren't...?

The Doctor: oh I know, I just like saying that.

----------------------------------------------------------

Y/N: *Throwing they apples into space out the TARDIS doors* Bad Apples! Kill them with fire!

The Doctor: what did the apples ever do to you?

Y/N: Remember that one time I broke my leg and couldn't go adventureing with you?

The Doctor: what does that have to do with anything?

Y/N: I broke my leg because I tripped over an apple. I just realized the ancient earth prophecy is true. 'An apple a day keeps the doctor away' and I need to destroy them all now.

----------------------------------------------------------

Child: What’s it like being tall?

Child: Is it nice?

Child: Can you reach comfortably for the cupboards?

The Doctor: We live in constant fear of the short ones who, in my experience, will climb 3 chairs, 6 boxes, a small coffee table and 4 oddly placed stools to get what they want.

Y/N: It was one time!

----------------------------------------------------------

Companion: *Calling Y/N* where is The Doctor, Y/N?

Y/N: sorry, the doctor has the zoomies right now, whatever it is, they can't help you.

Companion: The "Zoomies"?

The Doctor: *Spinning on chair quickly after chugging soy sauce while making incoherent dinosaur noises*

----------------------------------------------------------

Missy: Hey, do you know where (Y/N) is?

The Doctor: Why, so you can kidnap them again? That's never going to happen-

Missy: No, I would never waste time kidnapping Y/N again, they are too much fun for that. I want to have a girl's trip out with them. Actually is (Y/N) a girl? I can never tell what humans think gender is defined as.

The Doctor: actually, I don't really know either.

Y/N: *points at the TARDIS covered entirely by rainbow glitter* you should know by now doctor that I Identify as a fucking menace.

----------------------------------------------------------

The Doctor: Daleks are the most evil beings of pure hate and are not to be trifled with under any circumstances.

Y/N: *Bursts out in laughter*

Doctor: Y/N, that's not funny!

Y/N: *still laughing* It can't even get up the stairs. OH FeAr tHE MigHtY dAlEk EmPIrE, FeLleD bY a SLiGht iNcliNE!

----------------------------------------------------------

The Doctor: I hate your existence and will make sure your parents never meet, Y/N. I will find your friends and make them hate you!

The Doctor: Don't you dare!

Y/N: Uno!

----------------------------------------------------------

Y/N: Nock Nock.

Doctor: fine I know this is going to be bad but Who's there?

Y/N:*Trying not to laugh*Doctor.

Doctor: *Rolls his eyes*Doctor who?

Y/N: Exterminate! Exterminate!

Doctor: That joke was terrible, Y/N.

----------------------------------------------------------

Y/N: How many time lords does it take to check if it's safe to go outside the TARDIS?

Doctor: I don't know.

Y/N: me neither because you've never fucking done it.

---------------------------------------------------------

The Cybermen: *Starts trying to connect Y/N's thoughts to upgrade them*

Y/N: *Gives them a tuor of their mind*

Y/N: on your left you can see the mental fuckery that is my everyday thought process.

Y/N: in front of you is every single weird reference from all media I have consumed in no order whatsoever.

Y/N: Oh, on your left is a real life coherent thoght! That's impressive, I thought all of them had died with that time I ate half of a computer.

Y/N: Oh, I want you to meet my friends! That's anxiety, hiding just around the corner is depression. Oh, and here's my BFF self doubt!

Doctor: Y/N, how did you stall in your mind for so long? I thought I wouldn't be quick enough to save you! How... *Looks around*

Doctor:

Doctor: you need therapy.

Y/N: I need therapy.

----------------------------------------------------------

Jack: Hey, Just wanted to check in on my favorite couple.

Y/N: We're not a couple!

Doctor: Yes we are Y/N! How could you honestly forget our night underneath the singing trees on €en§πß where I proposed to you?

Jack: Well congrats on-

Y/N: I was with Missy, who the FUCK did you propose too?

Doctor: wait, what were you doing with Missy?

Jack: *Munchies on popcorn*

----------------------------------------------------------

[lovemyavatar]

Brat

Lo'ak x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Summary: Lo'ak is a brat tamer, what can I say?

Warnings: indulgent (aged up) nsfw, filth, p in v, oral, subby reader, mean dom Lo'ak

“Come on, Y/N. Do it right so I can go home.”

A frustrated huff fills tense silence. Your right arm pulls back, muscles taunt, one eye sliding closed to help aim your bow. A slow breath is drawn through pursed lips before you release, the arrow slamming into a tree nowhere near the target.

With an angry grunt, you turn on him, fingers clutching the weapon tightly at your side. “I would’ve gotten it by now, if I had a better teacher.”

“You would’ve gotten it if you knew how to listen.” He’s quick to retort, strong arms crossing over a broad chest.

Your lips pull into an irritated frown. Without responding, you nock another arrow and resume your practiced stance. Again, this one fails to land within the hastily painted circle.

“Oh my Eywa.” He draws out the Great Mother’s name, head lifting toward the sky. His eyes pinch tightly as he tries to contain his rising anger.

“Don’t be so mean, Lo’ak.” You’ve had enough of his attitude, hand raising to shove against his shoulder. He stumbles back a step, having been distracted by his own tantrum, and looks to you with surprise. “This is why you don’t have any friends.”

Without hesitation, he shoves you right back, though he makes sure the motion has no strength behind it. “Don’t push me.”

“Don’t push me.” All four fingertips poke into his chest, and this time he doesn’t budge an inch.

“You know what? We’re done.” He throws his hands up in exasperation, turns, and walks away.

“Wait!” You’re quick to chase after him, hand clamping around his elbow. “If I don’t get this my parents will kill me.”

“Not my problem.” He shakes you off, throwing the words over his shoulder without stopping.

“Lo’ak!” He doesn’t miss a step, toned back retreating steadily. You come to a stop with a huff, knowing you’ll need to stoop low to make him listen. “I’ll tell your dad!”

He comes to a halt begrudgingly, trusting that you would do it. His jaw grinds, hands tightening into fists at his sides. The toned muscles of his back and shoulders visibly tense. You always seem to find a way to get exactly what you want. It's so infuriating.

He turns, stalking toward you with a hard glare. Your eyes widen at his menacing demeanor, leaning back slightly as he grows near. He all but rips the bow from your hand, leaning over you to leer in your face. Bright yellow eyes bore into yours, shining with anger and something else. Something darker, hotter.

“You’re such a brat, you know that?” His voice is low, hoarse as he spits the insult.

Your stomach dips, fluttering before the space between your legs warms. You shift on your feet, rubbing your thighs together to quench the ache. He’s quick to straighten back to his full height and push past you, shoulder knocking yours along the way. You’re momentarily stunned, gulping down the anxiety suddenly bubbling in your throat.

“No, that’s not right.” Lo'ak shakes his head, arms crossed tightly.

You've been at this for another hour, arms shaking with the effort of holding the weapon you can't seem to master. Your trembling stance releases, back bowing to relieve some of the painful tension.

“You know, maybe I would learn something if you actually showed me how to do it.” Your eyes sweep to the sky, a frustrated huff leaving your lips.

“Did you really just roll your eyes at me?” His voice drops to a gravely rumble as he takes a step toward you, closing the distance to only a few inches.

What's left of his patience is wearing thin. If it were up to him, he'd be anywhere but here. His father ordered him to train you, to teach you the ways of the bow. You're too slow, quick to give up, always holding the hunting parties back. Impossible to teach, even for someone like him who obtained the skill at an early age.

It isn't that he doesn't like you. He's known you since they two of you were young, totting around the forest with his siblings and causing trouble. You've always been there, a playmate throughout the years. Your relationship is mostly positive, aside from in these private moments. It's like you get a kick out of worming your way under his skin.

Your good girl persona is reserved for others, this part of you—the snarky comments and lingering glances—that's only for him. It sparks something within him, a desire to put you in your place. To remind you who's really in charge.

Your eyes flick up to his, wide innocence meeting narrowed heat. You blink up at him, and he seethes. He knows it's fake, knows you're trying to get a rise out of him, but he can't help but give it to you.

With a growl, large hands clamp down on your hips. You let out a startled gasp when he roughly turns you to the side, so that your chest is nearly flush with his. He grips your biceps and jerks your arms into the proper position. You watch his expression, pliant under his direction. Pinched brows, downturned lips, a determined focus behind yellow eyes. Yep, he's pissed.

“Now, do it right.” He steps back, satisfied with the position he's put you in.

Your heart races, slamming against your ribs harshly. He raises a brow expectantly, and your attention shifts toward the target. After a calming breath, you release the bow.

It hits dead center.

“Ha!” Excitement explodes in your chest as you jump up and down, lips splitting into a wide grin.

You look to him, catching the way the corner of his lips twitches before he covers the movement with a swipe of his hand.

“Good girl.” The words slip out before he can stop them. His eyes catch yours, seeing the surprise flicker behind glittering yellow before he quickly glances away.

He clears his throat and turns to retrieve the arrow. You swallow down quickly rising desire, stomach flipping. You desperately try to even out ragged breaths in the few seconds his back is turned. As he faces the tree, his eyes pinch tightly in silent reprimand. He fights to soothe his racing heart, ripping the arrow from the thick bark and turning to stalk back to you.

“Let's see if you can do it again.” He hands you the arrow, stepping back with crossed arms. Gone is the heat behind his stare, the cold, distracted gloss returning to his gaze.

You force a calming breath through tight lips, straightening your back and lifting sore arms into position.

“No, that's not how I showed you.” Lo'ak barks, voice rough with a disappointed shake of his head.

Your arms drop, head tilting in defiance as you turn to face him, hip popped with irritation. “Maybe you didn't show me well enough.”

“Lose the attitude, Y/N.” He commands, the gruff timbre of his voice sending a shockwave of heat through you, straight to your core.

Shoulders round in opposition, a twinge of anger rising at being told what to do, despite the way your body responded. "Or what?”

His teeth grind, chin dropping to pierce you with a heavy lidded glare. He takes the few steps necessary to close the distance between you, only a few inches separating his heaving chest and yours.

“You need to learn some fucking manners.” He peers down at you, restraint tightening his chest as fists clench at his sides to prevent himself from touching you.

“I've heard no other complaints.” You huff, gaze sweeping toward the sky. "Only from you—”

A deep growl permeates the small space. One of his hands jerks up, long fingers circling your arm with a gentle firmness.

“I thought I told you not to roll your eyes at me, 'evenge (girl).” He towers over you, hard stare slicing straight to your core. It clenches under the heat of his undivided attention, and you squirm in his hold.

“You didn't tell me not to, you asked if I did.” You know you sound like a petulant child, but you can't help but talk back, his domineering stance bringing out a defiance within you.

“You're just begging to be taught a lesson, aren't you?” He seethes, every last bit of strength he has used to contain himself from pouncing on you.

A humorless laugh fans his tight expression. “I don't know, you haven't been the best teacher so far.”

In an instant he lurches forward, free hand moving to grip your throat. Your eyes pop wide, gasp falling from parted lips. He jerks you toward him, molten gaze flicking over your face. A moment of tension passes, ragged breath echoing through the forest before he claims your lips with his.

You instantly press into him, heaving chests flush. His head tilts, tongue forcing it's way into your mouth as his hold on you tightens. A trembling moan flutters into his waiting mouth, and he groans. His hand slips from your arm, moving to circle your back. He hoists you up without warning, your legs instinctively wrapping around his hips for support.

“Gonna fuck some manners into you, sevin (pretty). How does that sound, hmm?” He mutters against your throat, peppering your skin with sloppy kisses.

Your head falls back, overcome with desire as it swells in your lower belly, heat so intense you fear you may explode if he doesn't quench it soon.

“Answer me when I ask you a question, yawntu (love).” Fangs nip at your shoulder, and you tremble.

“Yes!” You're breathless, pliant in his hold, all disobedience gone.

“Yes, sir.” He grunts when you roll your hips, core sliding along his painfully hard cock.

A whimper falls from your lips, the rough authority in his voice nestling between your legs. “Yes, sir.”

“That's a good girl.” He claims your lips again, chest heaving under the pressure of restraint, of the effort not to take you right here.

Your arms wrap around his neck, holding him tightly to you as he walks forward, weaving through the trees to find a suitable location to make you his. He lays you in the first clearing he finds, thoughts too muddled to care if it's secluded enough.

Your back bows as he rips your top off, head dipping to take a nipple into his mouth. His tongue laps at the sensitive bud, and you whimper, core clenching with emptiness. He shivers at the tender sweep of your fingers along his sides. They slide down, and around, moving toward his straining cock.

They pass over the front of his loincloth and he jolts at the burst of pleasure. Your lips twitch into a little smirk, hands moving to cup him through the thin material.

“Fuck—no.” In an instant he has your hands pinned above your head with one of his.

You squirm under him, but his hold is firm. “Let me touch you, Lo'ak.”

“You're gonna listen." His piercing gaze briefly flicks up to yours before he moves to catch your other nipple between sharp teeth. “Or you won't get what you want.”

You whimper pathetically, head pressing into soft grass. He litters your chest and stomach with sloppy kisses, sucking a few bruises into your skin as he releases your arms and continues moving down.

“Lo'ak!” You cry out at an unexpected lick against your sex. Your head lifts, eyes meeting a heavy lidded gaze as he laps at your pussy again. You fall back, overcome with pleasure.

“You like that, baby?” He hums against you, fingers moving to part your pussy lips. A tentative lick swipes over your clit, your hips jerking up at the sensation.

“Oh, Eywa.” A hand presses to your chest in an effort to soothe it's ragged tremor.

“Use your words, sweetheart. Or I stop.” He pulls back to accent the warning.

A long finger prods at your entrance before sliding inside you swiftly, bottoming out with one quick thrust. Breath catches in your throat for a moment before you force it to reach your lungs.

“Yes!” You wail as he adds another finger before ripping them both out quickly. You clench around the emptiness, stomach tightening.

“What did I tell you to call me?” A firm slap comes down over your pussy, jolting your trembling hips. The pleasurable sting makes your walls flutter again.

“Yes, sir!” You're a whiny mess already, another broken moan falling past your lips when he shoves his fingers back inside you with no warning.

His eyes never leave you as his tongue sweeps over your clit, fingers picking up a steady rhythm. His heart is thrumming wildly, the sight of you at his mercy almost enough to make him cum untouched. His cock throbs beneath his loincloth, but he wants to take care of you first.

When you tighten around his fingers he picks up the pace, tongue drawing a bruising pattern along your clit. Your back arches from the earth, breath stilling, and he knows you're close. After another deep thrust, he pulls his fingers and mouth away, watching you pulse and clench around nothing.

You whimper, brows pinching in confusion. You were right there. Your pussy warms against the abrupt stop, at being left on the edge of your orgasm. Your lips part in protest, but he's quick to tower over you, supporting his weight with one hand and ripping his loincloth off with the other.

“The only way you're cumming is on my cock. Do you understand?” The command is a gruff rasp as he loses the last shred of control.

You nod feverishly. “Yes, yes sir, please!”

He grips the base of his shaft and in one swift motion enters you, bottoming out instantly. His head dips, eyes closing tightly, forehead resting on your shoulder for support at the feeling of your walls fluttering around him.

Your legs circle him, hips rutting against his to encourage him to move. He growls as he's forced even deeper.

“Lo'ak!” You bark when he refuses to move, needing a few seconds to adjust so he doesn't cum after one thrust.

He raises his head, thumb moving up to drag along your lower lip, his own pulling into a frown at your attitude. “Do I need to stuff this pretty mouth to keep it quiet? Huh?”

His thumb forces it's way between your lips at the same moment his hips pull back before slamming into you. Your head tilts back, moan ripping from your throat, tongue circling the digit as you would his cock. He lets out a shuddering breath, stomach tightening with the effort of holding off his orgasm.

You're right there, already so worked up from his earlier ministrations. Moisture wells in your eyes, pleasure spiking more intense than you've ever felt it.

“You wanna cum, baby?” He grunts, his cock rutting into you so forcefully your back slides against the grass.

Your head bobs quickly, breath hitching when he rams into your womb.

“Use your words, honey.” He rasps, pace increasing with his own impending orgasm. “Ask for it.”

“Oh, Lo'ak—sir! Can I cum? Please!” You sob, tears sliding down your cheeks from the pleasure mounting in your core.

“Fuck! Cum for me, baby girl. Cum all over my cock.” He pounds into you, and you do just that, pussy clenching around him so tightly he has to slow down.

You gush around him, juices flowing between staggering hips. He rips his cock from your trembling pussy, spilling his cum over your stomach, hips jerking against nothing as his orgasm rips through him. His fists press into the earth beside your head, ragged breaths fanning your face. He lets out a quiet whimper as he settles, spent from the effort.

As the weight of what the two of you have just done gathers, you can't help but giggle at the absurdity of it. His eyes flick down to yours, narrowing into a hard glare.

“I guess you aren't such a bad teacher after all.” You tease, and he wastes no time in gripping your hips, turning so you're perched on top of him, ready to show you who's boss as many times as he needs to.

[fandoms--fluff]

hii could you maybe to caregivers davina and kol with a little reader please :)

Caregivers Davina Claire and Kol Mikaelson Headcannons

Little female witch reader x Momma Davina and Daddy Kol

Davina would be called Momma

Kol would be called Daddy

You would definitely be a Momma's girl, but just as much of a Daddy's girl as well

Davina's top pet name for you is; baby girl

Kol’s top pet name for you is; little witch

You can do no wrong in Kol’s eyes and he would most definitely join in making mischief with you

Davina sometimes feeling as if she has two littles because of the vampire menace that's her husband

Kol will give you piggy back rides and vamp around the house and backyard while you giggle

Your Momma will definitely be the one cooking the food because Kol can barely even make a pb&j, let alone a whole meal

^Though he can scoop ice cream and that's what you guys have for meals if Davina's not there

You end up in their bed half the time through the night, cuddled up between your Daddy and Momma

Davina would read you stories from books while you're cradled on her lap, and your head resting on her chest

Snuggling at any time>>>>

Getting your Daddy to dress up and have tea parties with you while Davina takes pictures for incriminating evidence and maybe blackmail for later against her husband

^seriously, this man will be wearing a tiara, a feather boa, having his pinky stuck out and everything. Anything to make his little girl happy

Waking them up by jumping on their bed

If you're crying, best be ready for your Momma and Daddy to be there by your side right away, comforting you and calming you down

Mommy and me time when Kol is forced to go to family meetings (courteously of Elijah)

^you guys always have an awesome time, you love being with your Momma

She teaches you some spells to grow flowers and such

^she had banned Kol from ever teaching you magic again after he taught you how to make flame circles to appear wherever you wanted and how to blow something up with your mind (rip to the toaster)

You love listening to your Daddy's heartbeat as you fall asleep again his chest

Davina has to physically stop Kol from ripping someone who looks at you for too long - no one gets to look at his little witch like that

Immediately cheering your Momma and Daddy up by just walking into the room

Only being allowed to get babysat by Elijah, Rebekah, or Marcel. They don't trust anyone else (cough Klaus cough)

Watching all the Harry Potter movies in one day because you love watching the movies with them, especially when you're in little space

Being super cuddly when you're regressed all the way

Having basically a death grip on either one of them if you fall asleep next to or on them

Giving your Daddy kisses on the forehead because he does that to you all the time

[chaethewriter]

Voices Of The Nights

(OPLA!) RORONOA ZORO X READER

A/N: I wrote this for a writing assignment— but I imagined it was Zoro while writing this. Might not be accurate to lore but enjoy!!

Word count: 1,8K

she/her pronouns, fluff, enemies to lovers?

This was the worst idea ever. Taking on a job with this asshole was one thing, but also sharing a room with him after spending an entire day of misfortune was another. Everything about him annoyed her. An entire day of his mocking and insults was enough– getting on her nerves until a vein on her forehead was close to bursting. She was looking forward to an entire night on her own, in her own space, without seeing that menace of a swordsman for even five hours.

Was that too much to ask for?

Just peace and quiet?

Whatever.

12:00 am. Her gaze moved to the way his body stumbled through the hallway. It made her blood boil. He had blocked an attack to save her, resulting in a large cut from his left shoulder to his abdomen. His clothes were all torn apart from the sharp of the weapon cutting through his skin. It smelled like iron. The hallways were starting to reek of it. Not surprising with the way the blood gushed out of his wounds like a waterfall. He was far worse off than her, after all.

But why did he do it?

Why did he save her?

Did he think of her as weak?

The way his hand shook as he pushed the key into its lock annoyed her. Everything about him annoyed her. She locked the door after she entered after him, her eyes following his movements, his blood basically leaking everywhere and covering the hotel's furniture.

"Stay on the floor. You're gushing blood everywhere." She threw her satchel from her shoulder as she pulled at his arm to stop him from falling into the comfort of the bed. The pull was so hard, resulting in him falling on his back on the cold hard floor. He hissed out a cuss her way, but she ignored it as she basically gripped onto his top and ripped it in half. Revealing his torso, she had to fight the blush that was tempted to show itself.

"Like what you see? Take a picture it lasts longer... argh fuck.." his face was husky as he spoke, soon growing horse and not soon after coughing fit leaving his throat.

"That's what you get for being annoying, now hold still," her hand made way to his chest, touching around the area as her other hand dug into her satchel. Her fingers danced around his pecs. Only to see where it hurt, of course. No other reason. Her fingers lingered a little too long against his skin, and he seemed to notice the gesture. His lips parted as to say something, but she shut him up by pushing a cloth into his mouth.

"This is going to hurt, big boy.." That wasn't a lie. It's going to hurt like shit. And that much was clear from the way he groaned and moved when the alcohol hit his wounds. He had a hard time staying still, moving on top of his lap to keep him down, "Aren't you used to alcohol in your system? Stay still, you're annoying. I'm trying to be gentle." And that also wasn't a lie, as she carefully tended to his wounds– her touches soft on his skin.

2:30am. He was passed out on the bed, the blood that pooled under him seeping into the wooden floor and drying into his skin. Bandages securely wrapped around his torso with the blanket keeping his warm. It's drying up. They will notice. The water is no use.

How to clean this mess?

At least he will be fine.. her eyes looked from the now red cloth she tried to rub the blood with to the unconcious man on the bed. She huffed out in annoyance.

Why did he need to be such a drag?

Always causing problems for her. Yet she would always be ready to care for him.

Why did she even bother?

She didn't understand how she felt. She walked from the bathroom to the bedroom a few more times with old cloths in hand, wetting them and putting them down on the floor– making her way to his bedside. She took a seat on the bed, more like leaning since she barely had any space to properly sit down.

"Why did you block that attack, stupid? Now I need to take care of you. It's all just a pain in the ass!" Her lip shivered as her hand made its way to his torso, pressing around on the bandages to feel if they're still secure, "wake up, you're not weak, are you? You're delaying our mission..!"

That's just it, right? It's all about the mission. It always was. But her eyes said something else, as they softened everytime she glanced his way. Even if she didn't notice it herself.

4:00 am. She was sat on the floor, her back leaned against the side of the bed– that if she looked to the right, he would be in her sight. Not that she would want to. Only glancing his way to see if he was still breathing. At least four times every ten minutes. Just the right amount of times to check.

That wasn't weird at all.

She just had to make sure he wouldn't leave her here all alone on this mission. Occasionally checking on his wounds to see how the wounds were healing, still telling herself she doesn't care and that she will never care. And so she sat, sitting and waiting wide awake– secretly praying to the gods that he would wake up.

In the meantime she couldn't fall asleep.

She wouldn't.

Not with him unable to defend himself. She didn't want them to judge her for being weak, which is stupid since it's his own fault for bleeding out enough liquid to drown the lands. He would flinch from time to time, the bed creaking underneath him as she felt it dip against her back. She would turn around in an instance, her eyes widening as she slightly shook his arm– but to no avail.

8:00 am. Her eyes were stone cold, staring at the wall in front of her. The same wall she had been staring at for the past hours. If you would cover her eyes and ask her what her surroundings looked like, she could tell you in an instance. Sitting cross-legged with his precious sword in her hands, keeping it safe until he woke up. Her grip was tight, fists balled up into the material, ready to pull the blade out of its sheath. Her head would slowly roll back, finding comfort for her neck as her eyes would flutter shut– this wouldn't last long as she would jolt awake.

She had no idea how much time went by, not until the sun shone bright in her eyes and a voice whispered in her ear, hot breath tickling her skin, "been waiting for me, pretty girl?"

The hairs stood straight as her eyes widened, turning around and basically knocking the handle of his own sword into his face.

He groaned loudly, immediately falling back onto the bed with a loud cough, "what the hell was that for!?" She watched him with a shocked face, dropping the sword (not without him scolding her how she had to be careful with that) to grab at his shoulders, "you can't just- just up and go ahead and whisper like that in my ear?!?!?" She was basically burning up, face growing red.

The heat was radiating off her. Incredibly flustered and speechless, she went and smacked him on his torso, right on his healing injury. "Why did you block that attack for me, you asshole?!" She basically screamed into his face, eyes teary (from exhaustion, of course) as she remained eye contact with him.

He just looked up at her while covering his chest with his hand, an attempt to relieve the stinging caused by her slap. But he didn't answer. He kept his mouth shut and stared into her eyes. This made her blood boil even more, but she didn't know the exact reason. "Answer me!! Don't just shut up like a coward! You blocked me from an axe attack, so act like the man you think you are!"

Was she even making sense?

Calling him names to convince herself that she could care less about him.

Calling him names to make it sound like she doesn't care about him.

Calling him names all along to try and create enough distance to not come to terms with her feelings.

Her true feelings.

"You're so fucking stupid! Mindlessly jumping in front of weapons like you're made of steel?!? Is that head of yours empty?!" She bumped her fist into his head, punching his temple to see if it sounded as hollow as she thought.

"Cut that out." He grabbed her wrist to stop him from knocking at his face, also using it as leverage to pull her on top of him. She quickly put her hands on the bed, on either side of his face, careful not to wound him any further than he already is.

"You're such a nuisance, running that pretty little mouth." If it was possible, her cheeks grew even redder at that statement, "w-well! You're at fault here! Always commenting on anything I do! Then throwing yourself in front of me?! Do you think I'm weak?! Is that it! That's what you think, right?!" She leaned in closer to him, their noses touching as her voice grew louder by the second.

The thought of him thinking she's weak upset her.

Didn't she show how capable she was?

What more could she do?

"That's not it, it's-" but she cut him off, like she did too often. "Then tell me! Why do you mock me? Make fun of me everyday? Think I can't protect myself? Why are you pulling at my heartstrings! It hurts, you know?!"

He was right.

She ran her mouth too often. And he had to shut her up by putting his hand on the back of her head– at least he tried to with the pain shooting through his entire body and pushing his mouth into hers. Sharing a kiss as the sun illuminated their faces.

Let me know what you thought with a comment! <3 thank you sm for reading!

[enkas-illusion]

Two Can Play a Game

Fandom / Pairing: Jujutsu Kaisen / Geto Suguru x f!reader

Rating: NSFW/Explicit - MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Content Warning: suggestive, Gojo being a menace, roommate shenanigans, wingman!Gojo, violent games, friendly banter, geto’s huge fingers…

Chapter Summary: You are stuck with your awful roommates on their Saturday games night. You were ready to be bored to death this weekend but what you were not expecting was being stranded on Geto’s lap by the end of the night.

Author's Notes: gamer!Suguru rotting my mind. Let me know if I should make a part 2! If you enjoy it, feel free to like, reblog or comment; I’d love to know your thoughts. Thank you for reading! 

-Nanami's Munchkin

Part 2

Being roommates with Satoru and Suguru was nothing short of an adventure. It always felt like you were taking care of two cats who actually did pay rent but were a pain in the ass to handle. 

The tamed one was Suguru, the black cat with black cat energy. Satoru, on the other hand, was worse than the orange cats, a menace, making your life miserable. However, you wouldn't have it any other way – a cat person always loves the little devils immensely, despite the hell they raise.

Saturday nights were game nights for the boys. Usually, Shoko, the fourth person in the house, your white dove of peace between the guys and you was out for the weekend. The dove in question, however, had betrayed you to flock in someone else’s nest so you were left alone with the men-children screaming over a stupid game.

It's true that you don't know what you've got till you don't have it anymore. You think back on all the times you open a bottle of wine, enjoy a smoke on the balcony, and share the gossip of the week with Shoko. 

You weighed your options – scrolling through reels while silently drinking your wine while pretending you don't exist would be a lot easier than spending the night witnessing your two roommates behave like toddlers. 

So you did just that, flopped down on the armchair scrolling through feed, sipping your wine quietly. You'd downed more than half the bottle before boredom hit, causing you to look up at the TV to see what Suguru and Satoru were up to. 

The amount of fun they were having playing a violent and gory game made you cringe. For them, this was no less wholesome than a fluffy princess ride at DisneyLand.

“Seriously guys, is this fun to you? You just go around killing people!” Ideally, it'd be better to let it slide without the unnecessary commentary, but this is far from ideal so you let the boredom and booze speak for you.

“Oh and Genshin is not violent at all!! Sweet little Hillichurls getting hit by a meteorite just for existing is fun, right?” Satoru mocks back in an instant without taking his eyes off the game.

“I don’t think you know Hillichurls to be calling them sweet and little,” you argue, offended that your favorite game was dragged into the conversation.

This time Suguru replies,”Maybe you are just salty because you don’t know how to use a console.”

Taking full offense, you challenge, “I would've learnt it ages ago if I wanted to…”

“What's stopping you? That way you can play your precious Genshin on the console as well. It will be fun. Then we can all have a game night.” Suguru's tone is condescending but you understand him well enough to know when to take the bait.

“Hard pass! No way I wanna play with you both. It would only make my hair whiter than this dumbass.” You say pointing at Satoru.

“Huh! The feeling's mutual darling. I’m not psyched about you ruining our sacred games night. Also, you might finally start to look a bit attractive with hair like mine.” 

Satoru’s comment ticks you off, you know better than to let it get to you but you're too far gone to think straight now. So you put down your wine glass as you stomp to where they're sitting, ripping out the console from Suguru, settling in the tiny space between the two manspreading, “You’re on, bitch!” 

“You really think you can beat me?” Satoru looks amused, Suguru has a similar look on his face.

“Just shut the fuck up and start.”

As the game starts, you realize how dumb this decision was – you'd walked right into the trap. Not only do you not know how to use the console, you don’t even know what this game was and what you needed to do.

“I’m going to find youuu~~” Satoru says in a creepy singsong voice that makes you shriek as you try to run in the game. 

Suguru just lies back on the sofa laughing at both your antics. No matter how much you tried to believe the cat analogy exclusively applied to the two, everyone knew you were one too.

“Found you!” Satoru squeals as you nevertheless try to hide and fail miserably. And before you know it, your screen turns red with the words DEFEATED on it.

You pout at Satoru and he says, “Aww, that was no fun. Let me heal you so we can go again.”

“Really! You can do that?” You ask, looking up to him with glittering eyes.

“Satoru!” you hear Suguru suddenly scold, causing you to stare at him with confusion. And before you can ask what was wrong, you hear a few more gunshots from the game. Satoru, being the absolute worst, continues to shoot your already dead character.

‘SatoruAlmighty_89 WINS’ the screen displays.

“Suguru! Satoru is so mean!” You look at Suguru with those puppy eyes that you know makes him melt. Your final trump card, given that he may or may not have called that look adorable in the past.

“‘Toru, your name doesn’t really look that well on top of the leaderboard… kind of used to seeing my own.” Suguru pokes at his best friend just to rile him up.

“Bitch please… Do you wanna go again?” Satoru takes the bait.

“Nope. Not me… her.” he says, tilting his head in your direction.

“Hmm?” you simply give him a confused look. But before you can decipher the meaning behind his words, he wraps his arm around your waist to pull you to him in one swift motion till you’re sitting on his lap. Your face turns hot as you quickly slide down to adjust between his parted thighs instead – trying to keep the atmosphere pg-13, what with Satoru in the room.

Suguru, on the other hand, couldn’t care less – he leans forward till his chest is flush against your back, resting his chin on your shoulder. His huge arms wrap around you, enveloping you into him as they hold the console in front of you. 

“Okay, let’s defeat him, shall we?” he whispers sweetly in your ear, “Let me take it from here.” you feel his hot breath behind your ear, making you blush harder than a rose.

Satoru gives you both a disgusted look, “Ugh… get a room!”

“Somebody’s bitchless.” you tease Satoru. It wasn’t hard to sense the sexual tension that had always lingered in the back ever since you had started living together with Suguru – sure, you had two other roommates but you never wanted to tear the others’ clothes off in a fervor. Shoko had once teased you that ‘if one could try cutting the sexual tension with a knife, the knife would grow blunt due to how thick it was.’ 

As you’re laughing at the now-pouting Satoru, you twist your neck to look back at Suguru, giving him a big grin that makes his heart do summersaults. 

Suguru’s fingers encompass your dainty ones as he guides them to the console. As the guys start playing the match, you move your fingers to the side of the device, letting Suguru take control as his fingers rapidly slam and rotate the buttons. You can’t look away from his hands even when the game begins. His fingers look so sexy moving around the console that you can’t help but imagine how they would feel on you.

“Pay attention to the game, sweetheart.” he whispers into your ear. His words catch you off-guard as your eyes shoot up to the screen, embarrassed that he’d caught you staring. His comment puts you into a deeper daze but you shake it off to focus on the screen, still you find your mind wandering, barely caring about the game. 

He’s so into the game that his chest often presses against you as he tries leaning forward when a battle gets too intense. At one such moment, before you can talk yourself out of it, you shift your hips back ever so slightly to press against his crotch. You swear you feel his otherwise restless movements still for a split-second but he doesn’t let his composure falter since he had a match to win.

Suguru actually manages to win as his name makes it back on top of the leaderboard. You cheer out loud and turn around to hug Suguru, but not before tilting your head to blow raspberries at Satoru.

“What are you… like five?” Satoru complains. You simply bring your hand up to do a blah-blah gesture, rolling your eyes at him dramatically.

“It’s not fair! It was two vs one.” Satoru pouts.

“Go cry about it somewhere else. A win is a win!” you tease him further. 

Satoru gets up from his place and walks off saying, “I anyway don’t play with cheaters.” 

If you weren’t reeling in the high from your win and laughing at Satoru’s antics, you would have noticed the wink he gave to Suguru before retiring to his room.

You’re still laughing as you watch him go back to his room and shut the door behind him with a ‘night, cheaters!’

When it gets quiet, you suddenly become super aware of the way you’re still perched comfortably in Suguru's lap. 

“You need to actually teach me how to use this thing.” You say as you try to break the impenetrable tension, fumbling with the console before tossing it on the sofa, beginning to get up.

Before you can move any further, you’re pulled right back into Sugurus lap as you let out a tiny squeal at the unexpected move. Your breath hitches in your throat when you feel his clearly evident boner, hard against you.

“Did you really think I'd let you off so easily after you pulled that little stunt during the game?”

[kopivie]

hades!wriothesley's constellation is cerberus, yes, but he also has a gardemek that takes the form of a massive three-headed dog. the thing sits motionless in front of his office seemingly powered off, but rumor has it that it roams the corridors of the fortress of meropide after midnight. the mechanical beast grows aggressive during the witching hour, although hades himself will often dismiss the rumors, saying that it is merely attending to unwanted guests.

as a matter of fact, what if he has several cerberus gardemeks? amongst the ranks of the gardemeks that lie in wait in their designated stations, there is also a cerberus mech on each level -- maybe two or three per level, each spaced out so as to maintain order and have all bases covered. when they walk, one can hear each and every one of their mechanisms clicking and turning. each step rocks the very ground they walk upon; a few prisoners (residents as wriothesley would probably correct you) have expressed their concern that a cerberus mech could end up drowning them all some day. of course those are just the ramblings of a paranoid prisoner (resident), but their worries aren't unfounded.

the very first time you tried to enter wriothesley's office, the cerberus gardemek stationed there nearly ripped you apart.

you're too terrified to even think to say the words that wriothesley told you to say when prompted. the gardemek spoke to you just moments earlier, the automated voice commanding you to state your name and business. you weren't aware that you were being timed either, so when you stutter one too many times and take too long to answer, the hulking automaton shifted its stance into that of a predator hunting its prey. it planted its front paws on the ground and lowered itself with its hind legs in the air. if this were a smaller, more... organic dog, it would've been mildly threatening at best. but this? this was menacing. you were not staring down at a dog that you could hide from -- you were being watched by death itself.

state your name and business, the beast warned you. you could hear the hiss of the joints in the jaw moving as it opened its mouth to reveal its silver serrated teeth. unlike the polished, humanoid gardemeks elsewhere in the fortress, the teeth seemed... dirty. rusted, even. your body went cold with the realization that it was likely dried blood.

your mouth opened to answer the question, but no sound came out. your head was a mess. if you don't answer the question, will your blood stain the once-silvery mass of teeth in this monster's mouth? you glanced at the floor briefly and saw that sure enough, the floor was a different color beneath your feet than it was anywhere else -- as if someone had done some intense scrubbing. you held your breath.

by this point, you were too terrified to provide the answer that the mech was asking you for. you briefly considered fighting your way out of this, but you can't take this thing on alone. a few armed gardemeks, maybe, but not something this massive. so, you squeezed your eyes shut when you heard the mech utter the words, "time has run out. eliminating intruder."

aaaand then i stopped writing because i'm falling asleep. obviously you don't die, but you get what i'm trying to say, right? right.

[dismas-n-dismay]

Azmidi/Caller Boi headcanons for the soul 😫😫 (based slightly off of my animal traits d(a)emons hcs)

- Cannot, for the life of himself, stand the texture of clothes. They always itch against his scales, though most often he can be seen wearing a large, thinly knitted murky cyan/turquoise sweater Sweetie made him!

He also has a penchant for gathering clothes he likes the feel/vibe of but not actually wearing them and has a little nest made out of them! He mostly gathers ripped jeans and baggy jeans

- Would wear hoodies if his kelp like hair wasn’t so consistently wet that his hoods were always soaked, it sucks

- Cuddle monster with literal autism who NEEDS to be overstimulated with physical touch (like being hugged tightly, or squeeze til his non existent bones crack) or he’ll die and go crazy

His ass would love a weighted blanket

- With a weighted blanket he ends up sleeping like all day and only manages to send Sweetie occasional barely intelligible texts, they’re happy he’s sleeping

- Can also levitate similar to empathy and serenity demons due to his amphibious traits (Magic explaination for this is it’s just his body’s natural state of mimicking floating through water and this it’s Actually harder for him to pretend to be bound to gravity and walk on the floor. So if anything his levitation is the natural state and walking and following the laws of gravity is the hard part so technically he’s in a whole different class from empathy and serenity demons)

- Will chew on his tail or his hair or the trail of hair on his tail 9/10 times you aren’t talking to him and if called out on it he’ll just let it drop out of his mouth plainly to gross you out as punishment

- Honestly this man could use a chew toy he’s Always biting himself out of boredom

- Will make ur bed into a nest with no permission asked and will pout if you ask him to undo it

- Has to be reminded of the amount of space he takes up relative to everything else, he acts like he’s a little guy but he’s like 1.5x the size of a grown ass man (nearly 8 feet when not hunched over)

- Pretty princess and likes to sit on ur lap for fun ! Most people are scared of him and that’s cool but he likes to be treated nicely and sit and be held, Sweetie always indulges him

- Passenger princess as all daemons are. He’s eating in ur car, playing his music in the aux, feeding you Cheetos when ur at a stop light- making eye contact w kids in other cars and scaring them by licking his own eyeball purposely before y’all drive away- he’s a menace but he’s so bbg

- His nickname from Sweetie is Boo, because he’s their boo and also cause he’s cute and spooky. Def has a hoodie/sweater w a ghost on it knitted by sweetie because of it

- Fav cereal would be booberry and he Would be made they don’t make it year round so he hoards all of it from the store for months until it’s out again. One box per month for a whole year 😭

[lazywriter-artist]

Unconventional Company

Warhammer/Helldivers/Halo crossover + writing warmup

Slowly Night clutched its wispy black tendrils around the planet and travel became difficult, forcing the Trio of trained soldiers to set up camp for the night. Seated around the fire the Space Marine would reach back into his satchel, digging out a large book as he leaned back some.

His voice, cutting through the settling air, rumbled the question “So pray tell guardsman, have you all finished your prayers? I hadn’t seen even a single one before battle…” He questioned, strangely nonchalant for how confused the other two were left. The other armored figures glanced to each other with small shrugs.

“prayers?” The spartan echoed, he had heard of a variety of religions back home and on various planets but with the mystery shrouding this giant already he really hadn’t taken the ‘marine’ to be much of a religious man. The Helldiver didn’t seem to be a fan of this topic however as he crossed his arms, leaning back with an aura of disapproval. He didn’t really trust this brick wall much already. Was too big of a guy. Never took off his armor…maybe he was an automaton. These prayers sounded very UN-democratic. Hmph.

Though their confusion deepened as the marine looked appalled, gently digging out an almost rosary like item with a large double headed eagle attached “ahah…yes?— your prayers to the God Emperor?” He pressed, the duo again glancing to one another.

“Doesn’t sound very democratic-“ growled the Helldiver as the marine gave off a sudden menacing aura. The spartan swiftly clapped the back of the helldiver’s helmet with his armored hand, clearing his throat to try and recover the situation, “Right! Right!! our prayers! How could we forget!?” He’d swiftly nod with growing anxiety as the Helldiver grumbled in complaint over being hit. The spartan wasn’t about to be ripped in two by this muscle man freak in super armor because the quack Helldivers like this one couldn’t see the writing on the wall.

“How indeed.” Snorted the armor clad wall of a man before allowing his original aggression, hesitantly, to fall away. “But it is only natural when fighting for the God Emperor.” He nodded matter of factly.

“For Liberty ya mean.” grumbled the Helldiver, receiving another smack to the helmet as the spartan cleared his throat once more “RIGHT! Yes! Perhaps you should lead us through one? We are a bit rusty—“

He gulped, worried of the marines reaction, hoping this would smooth it over. Even still he braced for the worst until— the marine seemed to light up? “Of course! I always am ready to show guardsmen new prayers for our God Emperor!” His deep voice bellowed as he would readjust to be closer to the two.

Despite the Helldiver disliking the idea the spartan forced ‘convinced’ him to go along with it, if only to just please this ‘Space Marine’ into not crushing them under his boot— and he had to admit, it was kind of endearing the joy the marine displayed as he traced over the strange words within his book, explaining these ‘prayers’ he picked out for them and how to say them.

…Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad?

Lovely dividers by @squishyowl (Imperial) and myself :) (Helldiver)

Yapping below the cut

Oh BROTHER this one took a lot. Idk y but hey it happens (mostly due to my inability to stay on a project for too long—) but anyhow

This bad boy had say in my inbox for a WHILE and in my notes even longer….i think I ported it over to tumblr around the time I made the original au post, meanwhile it’s been written since about I first made the au, so woof a while ago

This bad boy took a few months on and off again to complete just due to my spelling and grammatical errors and the whole not working 100% of the time on it X.X

But here it is!!! Idk if it was obvious but the crossover is a really fun idea to me and I definitely wanna do more with if- so we shall see 🥰

I’m just a big huge sucker for sci-fi stuff especially sci-fi battle stuff and these three being big poster children for that idk how I couldn’t

Anywho- thank you all for reading and u all are so cool and thanks to my moots who proof read it for me 🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶✨✨✨💪💪💪💪

Everyone have a good day 🫶

[r0-boat]

Some SFW headcannons if that's ok with you. Can we get some headcannons about Dad Submas with their kiddo (whether separate or a poly s/o au is both fine)?

Holy fuck yes sir(gender neutral) been waiting for this shit

Submas as the fathers of your child/children

Ingo

Ingo has always dreamed of having a family despite that permanent frown on his face being quite menacing to the children. He was pretty fond of kids. Always very gentle and patient. Holding his kid in his arms for the first time, he shakes, afraid he might hurt him or scare him. But who could ever be scared of that soft kitten smile? His heartwarming, when his child looks, sees him, and giggles.

His child is a precious treasure, and their happiness is Ingo's number one priority. Yes, Ingo may or may not have spoiled them a few times but seeing them so happy warms his heart every time.

Like any good parent, Ingo values his child's safety he's a Subway boss safety is part of the job; of course, safety is an important part of his parenting. And it is the same with Emmet. They both agree that their child must know about safety.

Ingo is a first-time father. He doesn't mean to be bad, but of course, some parents make their own mistakes. As their child grows older, Ingo seems to have a problem where he still sees his child as his sweet baby, and sometimes he gets a little protective because it's bittersweet when a parent sees their child grow up. Eventually, he does accept that his child is growing up, and sometimes he won't be there to protect them, but he'll make it known that he'll always be there for them.

I can already feel that poor kid's embarrassment when Ingo screams their names during assemblies every time they get a reward or their name called for one.

He's always having a conversation with his child, even if it's just babbling. He would be having a fake argument with his toddler.

Emmet

Emmet is the for-your-own-good type. He's a serious parent, but he is not unfair; rules are there for a reason and are very important, and he'll make sure that his child knows. He ensures that he teaches his child that actions have consequences; good behavior gets rewarded while bad behavior is punished. ( though not every situation is black and white like that.)

If his child ever asks why for anything, he will explain clearly and calmly. Rip for their belief in Santa when they inevitably ask their father.

Emmet takes safety very seriously, and Emmet can be a little bit of a mother hen. He just doesn't want anything to happen to his child as their parent and a Subway boss; it is their job to protect them.

No parent is perfect; Emmet struggles with personal space and privacy issues. He's always had this. He himself is not really a private person. He says what he says, and he means what he says. It might sound mean, but he'll say it anyway. And the lousy habit is from expecting everyone else to be like that, especially people who are closer to him. He wants his child to be open and honest with him at all times, and he wants to know what's happening in their day-to-day life even though they don't want to tell him. And I can see him getting a little antsy when someone won't tell him or they are hiding something from him. It's something that he always struggled with.

If his child ever gives him a logical argument on why he's wrong when he says no to something he will just freeze and think about it for a few seconds then just say "Ok, verrry fair... carry on."

Emmett gets obsessed with little baby onesies and baby clothes "look!! a little Joltik Halloween costume ah! So verrry cute!"

Ingo x parent!reader x Emmet

( the brothers are sharing one love interest no incest)

Usually, they're pretty good at getting along when it comes to Parenting, but sometimes their different parenting methods clash between two. Usually, they would ask you for advice after that or come to a fair agreement.

If they have twins, they can't be happier. Ingo would bring it up constantly, and Emmet would immediately start picking one color for each twin.

When they come home from Gear Station is usually your time off. They make sure you get plenty of rest because they know how tired you would be after taking care of your children all day.

Emmet would let his child hold a Joltik for the first time.

Ingo would give them a Litwick night light.

When the twins are together, they will always be excited to take their children for hikes or go places to have fun, like parks. We're walking around the amusement park or just seeing Aunt Elesa while you take a rest.

The first thing they do when they realize they are becoming fathers, is cram their minds with as much parenting knowledge as possible they're both excited and scared and praying they'll be prepared enough to deal with a kid.

Soon enough, you'll find them both asleep on top of a pile of notes next to another pile of parenting 101 books.