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alucarddear · 1 year ago

Note

Position anon again, would you please write a NSFW alphabet for Alucard? Pretty please? 🥺

Alucard N S F W Alphabet*

I'm personally offended that I haven't done this for Lulu before. Anyway, rather than just spelling out his name, I'll give you the entire alphabet. Heh. This is LONG! Your thoughts and keyboard smashes are welcome. 🤭

P.S. I go explicit and specific; read at your own risk. I also tried my best to keep it as gender-neutral as possible, so this is [Alucard x You]. However, I did have a little self-indulgent fun with W: wild card, the only section with an obvious she/her indication. Just so you know!

A: Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Aftercare is not optional to this dhampir. It's a must. It doesn't matter if you had a quick romp or a long night, he'd still take the time to treat you right, especially if he'd been rather rough with you.

Forehead kisses, soft caresses, helping clean you up—you name it and he's got it covered. It's all about making sure you feel loved, appreciated, and cared for.

Alucard is not one to just up and leave or make you feel used. In fact, it's noticeable how much more he dotes on you after actually using you up good and fucking you raw into next week. 😏

B: Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and their partner’s)

Your neck. Let's not even pretend that Alucard doesn't gravitate towards it. As you ride him, he buries his face in the crook of your neck and nips and pecks at your throat. There's a part of him that wants to sink his fangs into you then and there and another that wants nothing more than to whisper sweet nothings against your skin as you throw your head back in bliss.

Alucard likes his hands—the way they're so large against yours; how perfectly your hands feel in his own. He likes his hands gripping your thighs or hips, his hand coming down to slap your ass, his hands caressing every inch of you. The way his hand closes around your wrist, encircling it completely as if it was made to do nothing but. The way he pushes you down with his hand on the small of your back as he prepares to take you from behind. Most of all, all of the things his hands can do to make you cum.

C: Cum (anything to do with cum)

Alucard's desire to spill his seed inside you is next to nothing sometimes. If you'd let him, he'd bury himself balls-deep and cum inside you each and every time.

He loves to make you cum, loves the way you sound—the hitching of your breath, your begging, the way you can barely keep yourself from shaking as he coaxes yet another orgasm out of you. He loves to praise you for it. "God, you're fucking beautiful," is something you hear often. It just never gets old.

D: Dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

Alucard loves when you allow him to bend you over whichever way he pleases. Loves how tiny and pliable you look underneath him, adjusting and propping your arms and legs as he sees fit. Just the sight of you like that, it's enough to push him over the edge.

So, you know he draws you—you are his muse after all. You've seen his sketches. But not the ones of your beautiful, naked body. Not even the tasteful pieces he draws as you sleep. Not the ones where, try as he might, he just can't replicate how utterly divine you look when he fucks you. He's a talented artist, but nothing tops the real thing.

E: Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Is he very experienced? No. Does he know what he's doing? Hell yes. His mother was a doctor and his father is a man of science. He lives in a castle full of resources. He has deep knowledge of biology—he's got the theory down pat. Sure, he fumbled a little the first few times, but he quickly learnt how you like to be pleased.

Besides, being a dhampir, Alucard is in tune with your body's responses to his ministrations. When you're intimate, he can practically feel your heart racing, dear. He knows when you're close, can tell when he's hitting it good, need I say more?

F: Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Mastery. He sits on the edge of the bed, feet flat on the floor to support you sitting on top of him with your legs bent on either side of him, your feet flat on the bed. This position allows you to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss. It lets you start off slow, very intimate—with you grinding against and riding him. Once you're a little tired (or he starts growing impatient), he simply grips your hips and pounds up into you until you're a screaming wreck. His grip on your hips and his feet securely planted on the floor allows him to rut into you fast. And the view? Fucking fantastic. He loves watching you come undone like this, seeing you throw your head back and expose your throat to him. Yes.

For a quick romp, you can't go wrong with doggy style. When you're in his study and you both get a little too distracted? He’ll bend you over his desk and have his way with you.

G: Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Oh, he's very serious about giving both of you a good time, alright. He might do something that makes you giggle, sure, but for the most part it's probably accidental and not his intention. Sex with Alucard can be intimate and sweet or downright animals humping in the undergrowth (👀), no in between. He's not here for the shits and giggles, darling.

H: Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It does match. Maybe not all the time completely bare, but he keeps himself neat and tidy. Do you see his luxurious hair? He takes care of himself down there too.

I: Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Alucard loves to see you and hear you. He's considerate and goes out of his way to find what works for you. So much so he probably has ruined you for anyone else. You'll never find a more receptive lover; it’s time to accept that.

When you make sweet love, he whispers sweet nothings against your skin. He peppers kisses all over you and makes you feel like the most gorgeous being on the planet. He's not afraid to voice his thoughts out loud too, praising you and urging you on.

J: Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

You remember those naughty sketches of you? Yep. He has used them a couple times while you were away. You're in his thoughts whenever he touches himself.

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Edging. He not-so-secretly loves it when you beg. How are you to know how much more you can take? He'll just have to show you.

When you moan his name as you grip the sheets and quake beneath him? Yeah. He loves it, especially when you can barely even make out the words for “Adrian, please, please, please.”

When you take control and ride him like your life depends on it, it does something to his brain. You on top, taking control and looking absolutely beautiful as you do so... he could cum just from the thought of it.

There is a part of him that likes the thought of cumming deep inside you and breeding you. Maybe it's that loneliness that sometimes nags at him, maybe he yearns for a family, but he can't lie this feels utterly divine.

L: Location (favourite places to do the do)

The bed is cliche, but it works and is comfortable. Your kitchen counter, desk, against the wall or a tree, table, or out at some secluded clearing by the lake... Alucard is truly not that picky, as long as you're not out in the public for other eyes to see and you’re both comfortable.

M: Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your reactions and enthusiasm. Knowing you're into it just as much as he is.

When you sashay towards him, crooking your finger at him to beckon him closer? He's right there with you in a heartbeat.

When you wear his shirt and it swallows your smaller frame? It turns him on more than he lets on.

When you moan his name and gasp and writhe in pleasure. When you beg for him to take you harder, faster, and deeper. It just about short-circuits his brain.

N: No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Any form of bondage or restrictions to his movement. It brings up unnecessary trauma and makes him feel that he's not in control or safe. He is mostly a switch, sure, letting you take control and dominate too, but tying him up is just a no-go for him.

He won't transform into a wolf. It's practically bestiality, which he's not down for.

Somnophilia or any other act where consent can be dubious. He's just big on consent and trust, for obvious reasons.

O: Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves having absolute control over your pleasure, knowing it's him coaxing the sighs and moans and screams out of you. He enjoys how easily he can make you cum and drive you mad.

That said, he also loves watching you pleasure him, taking as much of his hard length as you can, especially whenever you greedily swallow his load.

P: Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It really depends. Sex can be whatever it needs to be in the moment. While he loves nothing more than to take his time and make sweet love to you, he also loves ravaging you and leaving you utterly spent. It's satisfying either way.

The usual case is he begins slowly and sensually, but by the end of it (and sometimes without warning), he's rutting into you like his life depends on it.

Q: Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He isn't above having a quickie if that is all time permits, but he would really much rather have his way with you properly!

R: Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Given that he's a dhampir, he knows exactly how to go unseen or unnoticed. It's likely his risk assessment is much more honed. You might think you're being risky, but he is well aware of the chances of you getting caught in the act.

As for experimenting—other than his hard reservations (the ones listed in N), he is game to experiment and try different things you may be curious about as long as you both feel safe and comfortable about them.

S: Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He's a dhampir... need I say more? The chances of you exhausting him first is little. Sorry to burst your bubble. 😆 He's got stamina for days, honey.

T: Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Alucard is not above using toys to pleasure you. But what can a toy do that he can't do better? Hah. Chances are he will attempt to learn how it pleases you and try to replicate that with his own cock, mouth, and hands.

U: Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can be such a little tease. You know the way he banters. That snark and sass can sometimes make their way inside the bedroom too.

"What was that, darling?" he'd ask, as if his amazing sense of hearing wasn't enough to register your begging as he edges you for the nth time. "Tsk. Patience, my love..." he would even dare chide you!

Alucard also loves to glide his fangs over your skin, just enough to leave a faint mark but not enough to draw blood.

V: Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not shy to let you know he’s having a good time, but he’s also not overly loud. He gasps, moans, and curses, a tight-lipped “Fuck!” slipping out once in a while.

W: Wild card (a random headcanon)

He loves to praise you. His way of talking dirty is to let you know how good you feel around him. How ethereal you are, how perfect for him, how you taste so sweet.

He encourages you as he pushes you over the limit. “Yes, yes, darling, you can take it. Cum for me,” he would say. He’d place a kiss on your open mouth as you convulse around him as he rips yet another orgasm out of you. “My sweet darling,” he would groan, wiping the sweat off your brow. “How perfect you are. Good girl.” And just like that, he’s about to do it all over again. RIP. 😫

X: X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s active and it shows. He’s well built without being overly bulky. It suits him—muscular/toned yet elegant and lean.

He’s packing a just-about-above average penis, but nothing you cannot handle. The man’s over six foot, it just fits.

Y: Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Alucard is the type to yearn and pine, so set the volume level up cause he cannot get enough of you. Enough said.

Z: Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sometimes you drift off to sleep together, but you usually fall asleep first.

He’s a night owl. He’d take you in his arms and stroke your hair as you sleep, admiring the way you glow under the moonlight, and wonder how he got so lucky to have found you. 🤍🌙

#if you disagree just scroll and let us have fun lmao #I’m not about to have another discourse on this #alucard #castlevania #alucarddear headcanons #adrian tepes #alucard fahrenheit tepes #Alucard x reader

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readerstories · 24 days ago

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When You Touch Me - Wolverine x male reader x Deadpool 5/?

Reader has a bike now ^_^ Also thought it was time to change up the gif, since it's both of them now ;3 Next chapter in a week! (AO3) (Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8)

Warnings/tags: male reader, canon-typical violence, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn

Wordcount: 1373

Summary: You’ve heard many stories about how people met their soulmates. Everyone crazier than the last, ranging from typical meet cutes, meeting with one of them at death's door, in war, meeting at your soulmate's wedding to another, and everything in between and outside of that. You had just never expected to add yours to the crazy list, meeting yours in a fight, only realizing after trying to kill each other for at least half an hour. And you certainly don’t expect to have another.

It’s been another week since your last run-in with Wade, two weeks since you met them both. An ache has settled in your upper back, flowing through the muscles any time you bend over just the smallest amount. It feels like soreness after a hard workout, but you have done no such thing, doctor’s (Evelyn) orders.

You have taken another job though, you can’t just sit around and wait for your cuts to fully heal (luckily they are healing well), you would become too restless. You need to do something.

Which leads you to where you are now.

The warehouse has three levels with a big opening in the middle to hoist up crates and goods. You were there to keep watch over a shipment of guns on the upper floor, when they had stormed in on the first floor. Wade had been yelling, what you don’t know, but the gunshots following his words leaves you no doubt that it wasn’t nice.

Because of fucking course they are a package deal even with this. Not that Logan’s claws had given you the impression that he was a demure housewife, but still. You hadn’t expected the yellow and blue suit, complete with a scowl with pointy ends on top that covers the upper half of his face. You don’t recognise him at first, but then there’s claws, and Wade jumping around in his Deadpool suit, so it’s not hard to tell it’s Logan under the yellow.

Red and yellow.

Like ketchup and mustard.

You snort to yourself.

Being able to recognise Wade’s voice even without words already should irk you, but this time it leaves you with an advantage, as you can stay back, and don’t rush into something unknown, or a situation you know you won't win.

You still haven’t made yourself known to them, preferring to watch as they utterly fuck up your job. You have to admit, they are effective as a team. Knowing when to split up, and when to draw back together. It’s not perfect, both of them absorb several gunshots, but thanks to their apparent unending healing factor they just keep going.

They end up in the middle of the first floor, with people coming at them in a seemingly never ending attack. You lean on the railing around the hole on the third floor, gun in hand, just watching. Logan slices through people with ease, claws glinting in the light even when they are soaked with blood. Wade switches between his guns and katanas, seeking out targets with precision. Their fighting styles are very different, but their legs are hard at work. Logan moves around in bursts, occasionally running on all fours, sometimes kicking when he’s in range of people so they stumble and he can easily skewer them with his claws. Wade bounces around, kicking with purpose, breaking bones, and necks when he hits perfectly. Once even strangling someone with his thighs.

Your bond hums with excitement when you pay attention to it, because of course they are having fun with this.

As much as you are enjoying the show, you are honestly just starting to think about slinking away before they notice you, but then there’s suddenly another henchman rushing in next to you, firing down as he yells at you.

“Why the fuck aren’t you doing anything?!” He hits Logan’s shoulder as he yells. This gets Logan’s attention, making him look all the way up to you. He spots the man next to you first, as he is still firing, but he now starts missing Logan as he starts moving towards a column in the corner of the opening. He spots you next, and it’s only because you’ve been watching him move without hesitation for several minutes that you see the minute stutter in his step.

Next thing you know, his claws are digging into concrete, and he’s fucking climbing the fucking column.

“You fucking idiot.” You hiss at the man next to you as you both draw back. He reloads his gun, you turn around to look for an exit.

You spot the red exit sign and door just as you hear a thud behind you. You move towards the door. There’s a scream behind you, another thud, before the warehouse falls mostly silent except from a scuffle somewhere below you.

Then Logan calls your name.

You freeze, fingers tightening around your gun. You could use it, but all you’ll likely get in return for your effort is a gun sliced in half (you had already seen Logan do that to others), and a pissed off Logan.

So you keep it down as you turn around, gaze as neutral as you can keep it as you look at him, absentmindedly noticing it’s mostly quiet around you now. You realize his mask has white eyes in the black, similar to Wade’s, but a little smaller. His claws retract, slowly disappearing into his hands as you watch them.

“Logan.” Your voice offers no warmth. “Fancy outfit.” He licks his lips, shifting on his feet, seemingly not knowing what to say to you now that he has your attention, not that he gets much time to speak, as you hear Wade yell for him.

“Where are you hiding peanut?”

“Third floor!” Then there’s footsteps on the stairs, and Wade appears, red suit and all. He spots you and Logan standing several feet apart, both tense, and starts, what you can honest to god only describe as skipping, over to Logan.

“We have to stop meeting like this pookie.” He slings an arm around Logan, winking at you. “Would ruin our reputation, fraternizing with the enemy.” He glances to the side, noticing the body laying there. “Thank you convenient anonymous henchman.” You tilt your head at them, squinting at Wade as anger simmers through you, muting anything that might be sent through their bonds to you.

“Don’t fucking call me that, and we are not doing anything.”

“You sure? The tension was thicker than Al’s oatmeal when I got here.”

“I was thinking of where to shoot Logan so I could run, and not get stopped.” A little white lie, because you weren’t then, but you are now. And Wade too of course. Logan scowls, you see his fists clenched tight, making you wonder how close his claws are to coming out again.

“Like I said, tension! Also, since you insist on keeping it professional at work, it’s Wolverine when we’re working.” You blink. Huh. You raise a brow.

“A weasel?”

“A mustelid actually! Weasels are part of it, but so are badgers an-”

“Shut the fuck up Wade.” Logan, or Wolverine apparently, growls out as he looks between the two of you. He still looks unsure of what to actually say or do, but you’ll make that decision for him. For both of them.

“I’m just gonna keep doing what I was doing, and leave.” Before they can say anything or protest, you raise your gun, shooting off two quick shots. The first hits Wolverine’s knee, shattering his kneecap, the other does the same to Deadpool.

“Motherfucker!” They both lose their balance at the unexpected hits, Logan grunts in pain and Wade swears loudly as they crumple to the floor.

You turn around and sprint for the exit, finding yourself on a roof with a fire escape, which you run over to and quickly climb down. Your breath is in your throat, you hear Wade yell your name just as your boots hit the ground. You look up, both of them are looking over the edge of the building. You look away, running over to where you parked your black Yamaha R7 when you arrived earlier. You almost forgo the helmet to make it out of there quicker, but remind yourself through the urge to get away that that would suck with the wind and insects, so you put it on. The bike purrs to life, drowning out another call of your name.

This time it's your turn to burn out of there as your soulmates watch your tail light disappear into the night.

Your shoulders ache as you lean forward, trying to make yourself as aerodynamic as possible as you rush away from your soulmates.

(Part 6)

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deadpresidents · 4 months ago

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On the cliffs of Normandy, in a small holding area, the President of the United States was looking out at the English Channel. It was only six weeks ago, on the 80th anniversary of the D-Day landings, and President Biden had just finished his remarks at the American cemetery atop Omaha Beach. Guests had been congratulating him on the speech, but he didn't want to talk about himself. The moment was not about him; it was about the men who had fought and died there. "Today feels so large," he told me. "This may sound strange -- and I don't mean it to -- but when I was out there, I felt the honor of it, the sanctity of it. To speak for the American people, to speak over those graves, it's a profound thing." He turned from the view over the beaches and gestured back toward the war dead. "You want to do right by them, by the country."

Mr. Biden has spent a lifetime trying to do right by the nation, and he did so in the most epic of ways when he chose to end his campaign for re-election. His decision is one of the most remarkable acts of leadership in our history, an act of self-sacrifice that places him in the company of George Washington who also stepped away from the presidency. To put something ahead of one's immediate desires -- to give, rather than to try to take -- is perhaps the most difficult thing for any human being to do. And Mr. Biden has done just that.

To be clear: Mr. Biden is my friend, and it has been a privilege to help him when I can. Not because I am a Democrat -- I belong to neither party and have voted for both Democrats and Republicans -- but because I believe him to be a defender of the Constitution and a public servant of honor and of grace at a time when extreme forces threaten the nation. I do not agree with everything he has done or wanted to do in terms of policy. But I know him to be a good man, a patriot and a president who has met challenges all too similar to those Abraham Lincoln faced. Here is the story I believe history will tell of Joe Biden. With American democracy in an hour of maximum danger in Donald Trump's presidency, Mr. Biden stepped in the breach. He staved off an authoritarian threat at home, rallied the world against autocrats abroad, laid the foundations for decades of prosperity, managed the end of a once-in-a-century pandemic, successfully legislated on vital issues of climate and infrastructure and has conducted a presidency worthy of the greatest of his predecessors. History and fate brought him to the pinnacle in a late season in his life, and in the end, he respected fate -- and he respected the American people.

It is, of course, an incredibly difficult moment. Highs and lows, victories and defeats, joy and pain: It has been ever thus for Mr. Biden. In the distant autumn of 1972, he experienced the most exhilarating of hours -- election to the United States Senate at the age of 29. He was no scion; he earned it. The darkness fell: His wife and daughter were killed in an automobile accident that seriously injured his two sons, Beau and Hunter. But he endured, found purpose in the pain, became deeper, wiser, more empathetic. Through the decades, two presidential campaigns imploded, and in 2015 his son Beau, a lawyer and wonderfully promising young political figure, died of brain cancer after serving in Iraq.

Such tragedy would have broken many lesser men. Mr. Biden, however, never gave up, never gave in, never surrendered the hope that a fallen, frail and fallible world could be made better, stronger and more whole if people could summon just enough goodness and enough courage to build rather than tear down. Character, as the Greeks first taught us, is destiny, and Mr. Biden's character is both a mirror and a maker of his nation's. Like Franklin Roosevelt and Ronald Reagan, he is optimistic, resilient and kind, a steward of American greatness, a love of the great game of politics and, at heart, a hopeless romantic about the country that has given him so much.

Nothing bears out this point as well as his decision to let history happen in the 2024 election. Not matter how much people say that this was inevitable after the debate in Atlanta last month, there was nothing foreordained about an American President ending his political career for the sake of his country and his party. By surrendering the possibility of enduring in the seat of ultimate power, Mr. Biden has taught us a landmark lesson in patriotism, humility and wisdom.

Now the question comes to the rest of us. What will we the people do? We face the most significant of choices. Mr. Roosevelt framed the war whose dead Mr. Biden commemorated at Normandy in June as a battle between democracy and dictatorship. It is not too much to say that we, too, have what Mr. Roosevelt called a "rendezvous with destiny" at home and abroad. Mr. Biden has put country above self, the Constitution above personal ambition, the future of democracy above temporal gain. It is up to us to follow his lead.

-- "Joe Biden, My Friend and an American Hero" by Jon Meacham, New York Times, July 22, 2024.

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ghost-proofbaby · 7 months ago

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SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER EIGHT: LOML

AND I'LL STILL SEE IT, UNTIL I DIE - YOU'RE THE LOSS OF MY LIFE.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, consumption of alcohol, (overly poetic) smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, technically unprotected sex even after the idiots discussed protection, minors dni

☆ WC: 3.9K+

☆ A/N: extremely sorry for the shortest chapter in this series yet. also, out of all the songs referenced for the title of chapters, this one might be the most on the nose. i kid you not, i cannot explain how perfectly loml encapsulates reader/sugar's emotions during this chapter. if you'd like the extra hurt, 10/10 recommends listening as you read. :)

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

“Can I kiss you, Sugar?”

You’ve made your fair share of dumb decisions in your life. Plenty of moments have slipped right between your fingers due to hesitation that you’d later regret, you have a catalog of embarrassing encounters to serve you a lifetime. You’ve said yes when your answer should have been a resounding no, you’ve made promises you knew were impossible to keep, and you’ve always had an unexplainable habit of digging yourself into graves that will surely bury you alive.

This moment is no different.

The correct reaction is to tell him no, to push him away and end the night here. You should leave before either of you make any mistakes and ruin whatever fragile thing resides between the two of you any further. There’s a million other options you should be taking, but at the end of the day, you still nod your head.

Not even a second later, Eddie’s lips are on yours, and it’s hard to call it a mistake when it’s the first time you’ve felt like you could properly breathe in two years.

He tastes like bourbon, and mistakes, and regret, and a youthful type of love impossible to grasp onto. A vague memory you never get to hold, but always learn to miss. When his hands travel slowly to your hips, you’re only pressing closer, deepening the kiss with the desperation of someone starved. Someone stained.

You were an idiot to think it wouldn’t end this way. You were in his apartment, and you were drunk. You were brimming with bad decisions. It was always going to end up this way.

Your knees somehow end up digging into the sofa cushions on either side of his hips, your recollection of how you climbed into his lap nonexistent. Had it been his doing, his own needy hands guiding you here? Or had it been you? You, with an ache that rang throughout your entire body, soothed only by sharing each of his breaths with him when he finally pulls back from the kiss.

“Are you sure you want thi-”

“Don’t ruin it,” you beg, silencing him as you look into those deep autumn eyes, memorizing rivets of soft auburn that never really changed. An ever changing kaleidoscope, but there were simply parts of Eddie he’d never be able to hide from you,to change, “Not yet. Please.”

You don’t know if you’ll want it come morning. You can’t estimate just how deeply the regret will burrow once it’s all said and done; you’re not in the mood to think sensibly. No hypotheticals, no curiosity for the future.

You just want him. Right here, right now. Far beyond just sex, and far beyond casual touches. But it’s the only way you can have him, the only way he can have you, for now.

His fingers are more skilled these days. More deft and nimble as they race up and down your sides, quickly undoing the button of your jeans and easily sneaking beneath your shirt. Two years could be two seconds with the way he still knows you and your body, knowing exactly where to apply more pressure as he plucks on every string beneath your skin that makes you sing out for him. Hums, gasps, moans – they all sort of blend together at some point, don’t they?

“I’ve missed you,” you swear you hear him mumble against the skin of your neck when his mouth begins to wander, “I’ve missed this.”

You convince yourself he didn’t say it just to avoid ripping yourself apart any further.

Instead, you busy your mouth with kissing him harder, faster, more desperately. You’re all but burying yourself in him. Your hips grinding against his, your lips swallowed in his, your hands finding themselves tangled in his hair.

You’re drunk enough that you convince yourself that this is it – this is home.

It feels natural to let him run you down this way. It’s instinctual as he takes his shirt off and your hands roam over bare skin that whispers with the ridges of paths you’ve traced before. You know that scar on his right hip from when he got his appendix removed as a child, you know that lightened patch of skin on his left thumb from when he’d managed to burn himself with a lighter while cutting class one day with you. You know him – so much better than you’d let yourself believe these last few weeks.

“Do you have a condom?” you pant, and you both pretend like your words are choked up from gasping to recover the air you’d offered to the kiss, and not the emotions rearing their ugly heads.

He does. Of course he does. He’s a rockstar now – he has women throwing themselves at him constantly. Of course he’s prepared.

It happens somewhere between him pulling the condom out of his wallet, and managing to pull his own shirt off. At some point in which you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, hips grinding down on his in sloppy circles, he lets out a low and drawn out moan. All your movements stutter, nearly halting, as that sound rings out around you. You swear, it echoes off the walls of your own head and not the eerily empty apartment.

You break as you gasp out, “Fuck, Eddie.”

Another dumb decision for the books. All it takes is you sighing his name for him to flip the entire script. Suddenly, you’re no longer straddling his lap, no longer biting his lip and gripping onto the back of the sofa for balance.

Your back collides with the cushions below and he hovers over you, kissing with more intent and purpose this time. Each press of his lips is followed by the nipping of teeth, desperately trying to mark you up along your chest, completely oblivious to the way he’s already left his stain.

You’re convinced if he presses his lips just hard enough, if he bares his teeth just sharp enough, he’ll see right through you. Your skin will become all but cellophane and he’ll see all those blooming violets and deep maroons still left behind in the shape of his mouth. He’ll see the way another has never followed these paths, not after him.

All the failed rebounds, all the failed distractions. There’s never been another person capable of taking your mind off of Eddie Munson. No one’s kiss ever made you bleed the way he’s capable, no one’s touch could ever erase the mark of his.

The wine still makes your head swim as your chin tilts to the roof, giving him all the room possible to paint whatever picture he’s vying for on your skin. You let him leave his physical mark; you let him leave a physical reminder of something to regret.

“Do you know how many times I played this moment back over in my head?” his voice is a murmur that vibrates against your sternum, words not quite slurring, “Do you know how many times I swore-”

You don’t know – and you never find out what exactly he had sworn time and time again as the trill ringing of a cell phone shatters the entire atmosphere.

One moment, Eddie’s lips are painting portraits along your chest and neck, the acceptance of making a mistake settling deep into your bones. And the next, he’s lifting up, looking wildly towards his kitchen, where you’re sure that it’s his phone buzzing erratically on the counter.

“I-” he looks wildly between you and the distant phone, pupils blown out and lips swollen, “Fuck, I-”

All the air leaves your lungs.

There will be no mistakes tonight.

“Go answer it,” you whisper, deflating as you accept the interruption. The moment’s over, fading in between the lipstick marks on your wine glass and the glow of the lamps scattered throughout his living room, “It’s fine.”

It’s not fine. It’s written plainly across his face that this is the furthest thing from fine at this moment. But duty calls; his phone is ringing, your mind is buzzing, and the moment is simply gone.

It has to be fine. You have to be fine with it.

“I’ll be right back,” he swears as he lifts himself up off the couch, but you know he won’t be.

Your shirt is already back by the time he’s reached the counter, laptop already tucked safely back into your bag as he answers the call.

“Hello?” he asks, eyes flitting over to you as he watches you gather your things, picking up the wine glass that had been yours the entire night in order to carry it over to the sink he leans against the counter next to. A bit of chatter comes from over the line, and Eddie’s entire face twists, “Am I busy? Yeah, yeah – as a matter of fact, I am.”

Just as you sit the glass into the sink, you bring a hand to his bicep, letting it rest there selfishly. Feeling his bare skin one final time, drinking in the heat he radiates through your palm, giving yourself one last chance to memorize it.

You’re not busy, you mouth to him with a sad smile.

He’s not. Because there will be no mistakes tonight.

You go to pull your hand away, prepared to somehow call an Uber or taxi, but he’s quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist just as your skin slides from his. It’s not forceful, but simply firm. Clinging with a desperation you can’t recognize.

Stay, he mouths back, the person over the line clearly continuing to speak without Eddie paying them any mind.

You almost do. You falter and consider dropping your bag then and there. You nearly stay, wait out the phone call, sit pretty and patient until he returns to you just as he had promised.

But he had left you with a promise of later once before, and he hadn’t kept his promise then.

“Oh,” you whispered, disappointment gripping your lungs, “Oh, that’s fine! Go, they need you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. You missed hearing that in person, that soft laughter in the shell of your ear over inside jokes and one too many glasses of wine. “Rockstar duties and all. We’ll talk more later?”

Later had never found its way back to the two of you all those years ago – why would it now?

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds,” you whisper, soft enough to guarantee whoever was on the other side of the phone call wouldn’t hear you. The fall of his face is almost enough to make you take back the words and swallow them back down.

“Wait-” he’s not whispering, almost as though he’s forgotten about the call entirely. You can hear the silence over the line, probably in confusion, as you walk away, “Wait- No- I-”

You motion to the phone still pressed to his ear and cheek, trying to remind him that someone else can hear.

He removes it and ends the call before you can protest.

“Eddie-” you start to scold, but he refuses to hear any of it.

“No, no,” he sounds as though he might be begging. And you can’t tell if he’s begging you to not reprimand him, or if he’s begging you to not leave, “I don’t care. It was just Matt, he can wait till morning.”

It doesn’t answer the question of what he wanted from you.

“It’s getting late, anyways,” you’re still trying to detect your escape route, the longer you spend in the aftermath making your chest tighten more and more.

You can’t do this.

You can’t stand in this room with him and pretend that it’s all okay. You can’t act as though the wine’s effects are slipping away from you and you can’t brush off the feeling of his lips across your chest. You have no patience left to act as though your lungs aren’t shriveling up in your chest, unable to get enough air when he’s too close all while being all too far away.

It would have been a mistake, and you’re both better for the interruption.

Eddie shakes his head, letting out a dry laugh, “We aren’t doing this again, Sugar. We aren’t going to just pretend that didn’t happen-”

“Why not?” you challenge him, “This… it’s better this way, Eddie. If we kept it up, we both would have regretted it, and it’d just be another mistake-”

“Who’s we?” he cuts you off.

We. You, me, both of us. We’d both regret it, wouldn’t we?

But you still didn’t regret kissing him. You still didn’t regret sitting in his lap and drinking him in, you still wouldn’t take back whatever moment was shared prior to the phone’s interruption.

All your regrets are spoken in future tense. All the mistakes are somewhere ahead of you, your mind running to things that haven’t happened yet.

How do you know if you’d regret it? How do you know if he’d regret it?

Your hold on your bag begins to loosen, “I- Both of us. We’d both regret it.”

“I wouldn’t regret it. I don’t think I could ever regret you.”

This is the part you walk away. You sling your bag onto your shoulder, you tell him to have a goodnight, and you leave. You’ll see him tomorrow, and you’ll pretend this conversation never happened.

Except you don’t.

Your bag falls to the ground, a muted crash that probably pisses off his downstairs neighbors. The toes of your shoes knock into the worn bag, kicking it to the side with more gentleness than you should be capable of right now. When he reaches out a hand to hold you, you take it.

You let him get his hot palms back on your body. You let his lips find their way back to yours.

You finally just let the mistake happen and take the chance on finding out if the regret is nothing more than shadows in the closet, make-believe once you turn the light back on.

The couch isn’t the destination this time. You’re almost sad that you don’t get to admire any of his decor as he drags you down the hallway, but you also doubt there’s even a sliver of the ghost of the man holding onto you in any of it. He’s not on the walls, he’s not in the pictures; he’s right in front of you, kissing you heavily and desperately, letting his feet stumble right over yours as he finally reaches blindly for the knob of the door behind you. He’s in the rings pressing into the skin of your hips and he’s in the wavering cologne that bursts from his sheets as he carefully drops you back on a bed far too large for one man.

He’s in the shadow hovering over you, he’s in the slide of his leg as he spreads your thighs to find home between them. He may not haunt this apartment, but he haunts you. Your body, your mind, your senses.

Always have, always will.

Alcohol isn’t clouding the moment anymore as each kiss is gentler, retracing the bruises already forming across your collar bones. He’s taking his time, enjoying himself, no longer rushing through the process of getting to know you again. The loss of your shirt and the unbuttoning of your jeans is done with shaking hands this time. Less sure, but far more determined.

Your own hands are steady, though, as you undress him. You’re sure. This is your mistake to make, your mistake to regret. And maybe he had a point – maybe it is impossible for either of you to regret each other. For all the tears shed and all the nights spent cursing his name, it’s never once crossed your tongue that you wanted to erase him. You think if someone were to try and take him, take all that you two had shared together from you, that they’d be met with white knuckles and deathly screams. A rancid animal foaming at the mouth, refusing to let go of the one thing it had ever managed to sink its claws into.

You’d forgotten just how well you know him.

It was beyond superficial scars and childhood stories. You still remember the exact pulse point that makes him moan out with just a brush of your mouth against it. You can still find that spot above his hips that spasm when your hands grip them, encouraging him to grind down onto you. You know his body, you know his past, you know his mind.

Words are no longer necessary as it finally happens.

Prayers of each other’s name, ignorance in the way this entire moment was becoming too gentle for two fools rekindling. A practiced dance you once only ever dreamt of swaying to with him.

You would have given him everything. You did give him everything. Your youth, your future, your aspirations, your daydreams of a glittering gem on your sacred finger and a list of baby names the two of you had argued over endlessly. All those things still belong to him, even now. Even as this new version of him hovers over you, lips trailing with purpose over your abdomen, making his way down to your core.

You can’t tell if he’s a stranger when he places a hot kiss over the cotton of your underwear. You can’t tell if you ever spent two years away from him as his hands hold down your hips when they buck in response.

“Eddie,” you beg, fingers lacing into his curls just as they had earlier, gripping onto him for dear life. You’re looking down at him between your thighs, refusing to blink on the off chance that he’ll simply vanish when you do, “Please.”

“Please what, Sugar?”

“Touch me,” you gasp out as his fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear, colossus course against soft skin, “Kiss me, fuck me- I just-”

No further explanation is needed. Your wish is his command.

Your panties are tossed to the hardwood floor at the edge of the bed as if they always belonged there. His mouth ravishes you as if this was just a nightly routine between the two of you. As if he didn’t have to second think what pace you might prefer, or when to add the first finger. Or the second. He plays you beautifully, crooking his fingers and nipping at sensitive skins and nerves alike, listening to the way you only seem to remember his name. Like you don’t remember the sound of a dial tone instead of declarations of adoration, like you don’t remember the excuses for him denying you all his attention.

You wish you could just stay in this moment forever. Him, buried between your thighs. All hurt and all stains forgotten when he builds you up to the edge, when he murmurs against your clit about how pretty you look for him right now.

Cheap wine soaking Halloween costumes. Hazy rooms, smokey with youthful desires and incense. Dancing in an apartment filled with boxes not yet unpacked. Whispers of something being real. Late night trips to the gas station and all the pride in your eyes as you heard his song played on public radio for the first time. The terrible waiting, the messy kisses of more teeth than lips. A simple necklace adorned with a simple ring, burning with more promises than either can comprehend, still gathering dust at the bottom of your jewelry box to this day.

Just in case. Just in case he ever came back; just in case you ever returned.

By the time he’s climbing back up your body, you have one foot in the past, cleaving yourself in two as you cling to him like water.

“Look at you,” he whispers when his face is back above yours, lips still slick with you, “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You swear, for just a moment, his eyes are mirrors. And you can see that dazed look you wear, the face of a woman still trapped by her past. The face of someone who can’t let the dead stay buried. Someone you wouldn’t describe as beautiful, but Eddie would.

You should have left. You should be regretting this. You only pull him closer.

His boxers bunch at his ankles, your fingernails dig into his back. When you feel him press against you, the tip of his dick just barely tapping against your clit, your entire body tenses. This was it. This was the mistake you had taken responsibility for, this was the choice you’d decided was worth damnation. A simple slip up, a quick fall backwards, and you’ll be right back where you started two years ago.

“You still want this?” he sighs into your ear, clearly feeling the way you’d froze up.

Your breath catches for just a second. More memories, more images that cut straight through you. Every careless afternoon, every serene morning. Every haunted night.

“Yeah,” your entire body relaxes, muscle by muscle, “Yeah, I still want this.”

You mean more than just the sex.

The press of your heels into his lower back is all the encouragement he needs to finally push into you. The stretch burns, but it’s welcome all the same. Just an aftereffect of years of emptiness, of failing to ever find something that could make you feel as whole as he does.

The moan he lets out as he’s wrapped in your warmth sends shivers down your spine. You swear, laced in it, there lies a gasp of relief. A sigh of coming home after a long tour, the huff of an exhale just before he crosses the threshold of a front door and has you in his arms again.

You don’t know when the tears started.

But between his thrusts, between all his wanton groans and your own quivers of excitement, your cheeks turn wet.

“Then I say let it burn.”

You can’t tell if it’s sweat or his own tears seeping into your skin as your bodies press together harder, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

“I love you so goddamn much, it hurts. I can’t believe this is real.”

You find your hands tugging on the roots of his curls even harder as you try to tether yourself back to him, but it’s no use.

“When I get back, all I care about is you.”

It all comes crashing down on both of you as his face is buried in the crook of your neck and your thighs squeeze around his hips – all the love that was there, all the love that was lost. All the love that still remains.

“Something for you to always have as a reminder that I’ll come back to you. You’re it for me, sweetheart.”

He’d always warned you this would happen. That one day he’d come back to you. That he’d only ever come back for you.

It doesn’t matter how deep of scratches you leave across his back, or how many hickies he paints your skin with. There will never be enough bloodshed between the two of you to wash away the truth. It’s not a mistake, it’s not something to regret. You wish it was; you wish it were so simple. No, this moment was one thing and one thing only – inevitable.

They always did say that your life would flash before your eyes right before you die.

And flash it does – a lifetime of love that was had and love that will never come back to you – as Eddie brings you both to your graves from the most cursed of little deaths.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking @witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore @mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog @vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp @princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

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#ghost's stories #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #maroon #this is not edited please don't come for me PLEASE #that phone call in the middle of it all is important btw <3 #truth be told i think this had also been my least favorite chapter to write #it gave me fucking hell

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lousypotatoes · 8 months ago

Text

What A Glorious Feeling

This chapter takes place after the pilot but before the first episode of the series.

Reader is a falcon demon, doesn't have a beak, wings drape over her kinda like Valentino's (i want him dead), reader has gray skin, usually wears a black tube top, black and white pinstripe pants, black boots, and has a daisy in her hair. Reader has the eyes and ears of a falcon and is also slightly cannibalistic. Reader can summon any weapons at will and can move things with her mind, whenever she does this, her eyes glow red. Like Alastor, reader can also summon anything at will. If you had something else in mind for how the reader looks, you are more than welcome to imagine something different.

I know Alastor is canonically aroace, but obviously, in this story he is not. Also, in this book, nobody knows the Radio Demon's name unless he decides to tell them. Sorry I should of said this earlier.

Song Recommendation:

I Did Something Bad - Taylor Swift

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

Present day...

"Ah Dustin," Y/N said, walking over to the man, who was cowering in the corner. "You broke our deal. You know what happens to people who don't keep their word with me, don't you?"

"Please," he begged. "Give me one more month I promise-"

"You said the exact same thing six months ago," she spat angrily, her wings unfolding.

"I swear-thi-this is the last time," he stuttered. "I just need-"

She summoned red chains, that latched onto Dustin's neck. Tugging the chains over to him, she grabbed his face, digging her claws into his cheeks. He let out a yelp of pain.

"The deal was that if I killed your pathetic wife, I'd get your soul, and you would get me what I needed from that idiot overlord who thinks he's the shit, just because he's a pimp!" Y/N snarled, digging her claws in harder, drawing blood. "I have been more then generous towards you, and this is how you repay me?"

"I'm trying!" he cried out, tears running down his face. "Please just don't kill me!"

She had a small frown on her face. "I should rip you apart limb by limb," she said, calmly but in a deadly voice. "But I'm not goin' to do that," She removed the chains from his neck and put him down.

"Thank you so much Assassin," Dustin said, wiping the blood off his cheeks. "I swear I will-"

He never finished his sentence. As fast as lighting, she summoned an axe and chopped his head clean off.

"Instead, I'll make this is as quick and painless for you," she giggled, licking off the blood from the axe. "I'll have to thank Carmilla for the angelic steel at the next overlord meeting."

Using the axe, Y/N chopped up his limbs and stuffed them in a trash bag she had brought with her.

"Cannibal town here I come," she smiled once she was done.

"Knock, knock," she said, knocking at the parlor door.

"Y/N!" Rosie exclaimed upon seeing you. "What are you doing here so soon?"

"I brought you a little somethin' to snack on," Y/N said, holding up the trash bag.

"Oh you spoil me so much, my dear," Rosie said, licking her lips.

"Anything for my closest friend," Y/N said, handing her the trash bag.

"This is the fifth one this month," Rosie said, opening up the bag. "Sinners know better than to break a deal with you."

"They'll never learn, Rosie," she giggled as she took a seat on the couch. "Did you see the news the other day?"

"The Princess sure does have her hopes up for this hotel," Rosie answered, pouring herself a cup of tea. "Tea, Y/N?"

"No thank you," Y/N answered. "Do you think anyone would actually check in to that hotel?"

"Who knows at this point," Rosie said, sipping her tea. "But judging by how people reacted, I don't think it's going to work out,"

"Shame," Y/N said. "It's a good idea, if it's actually possible."

"Say Y/N," she said, setting her cup down. "A friend of mine just recently got back into town. He's staying at this hotel,"

"Oh yeah?" Y/N asked curiously. "Who is it?"

"The Radio Demon," she said simply.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise. "He's been gone for seven years," she said. "Why on Earth would he return now? And why would he be stayin' at the Princess's hotel?"

"Satan knows," Rosie replied. "Y'know, you and him would really hit it off."

Y/N's eyebrow rose up. "Sorry my darlin'," she said, lightly chuckling. "The Radio Demon is most certainly not my type."

"You don't even know him," Rosie said, a slight frown on her face.

"I don't need too," Y/N said curtly. "From what I know, he seems like a self-absorbed prick."

"Oh c'mon," Rosie nudged you. "The both of you have so much in common! You both like whiskey, you both like jazz, you both like killing people-"

"Why all of a sudden are you tryin' to play matchmaker?" Y/N interrupted. "And why The Radio Demon out of people?"

"Because you need to get out there!" Rosie said, smoothing out her dress. "Ever since I've known you, one of the main things you talk about is how in love you were when you were alive. What was his name again?"

"His name was Alastor," she said, her heart hurting. "I've searched all of Hell Rosie. Either he's up in Heaven, or the Exorcists got to him."

"That's why I want you to meet him," Rosie said, patting Y/N's shoulder. "Please? Do it for little ol' me?"

"I suppose so," she sighed. "I was already thinkin' about checkin' out the hotel anyway."

"Marvelous!" she exclaimed, clapping her hands together "I promise, you won't regret it!"

Landing in front of the hotel, she knocked at the door, feeling nervous, her wings fluttered behind her.

"I'm coming!" chirped a feminine voice from behind the door.

Fiddling with the hem of her top, Y/N waited until the person opened up the door.

The princess herself opened the door. "Hello! And welcome to the Hazbin Hot-"

Upon seeing your face in the doorway, she immediately slammed the door shut.

"Vaggie!" Charlie cried out.

"What is it?" Vaggie asked, coming down the staircase.

"The Assassin is at the door," Charlie panicked, pointing at the door. "What do we do?"

"Really? Another fucking overlord?" Vaggie angrily said, walking over to the door. "I'll handle this."

The door opened up a second time. Instead of the princess, a girl with a large X over her eye appeared in the doorway.

"What the hell do you want?" she asked suspiciously.

"There's no need to be so hostile," Y/N said, putting up her hands. "I'm here to simply offer up my services."

"We don't need you to kill anyone,"

"Not those kinds of services," she laughed. "I want to help with your hotel."

"Thanks, but we already have an overlord helping us," Vaggie said, eyeing her up and down.

"The Radio Demon, yes I know," she said, crossing her arms. "I still want to help,"

As Vaggie was about to close the door, Charlie popped up beside her.

"Wait Vaggie, we could use her help," she said, smiling. "With two overlords helping us, we can get a lot more done!"

"You have a point," Vaggie grumbled. "But I'm keeping my eye on you,"

Charlie beckoned you to come in. "Thank you, Princess Morningstar," Y/N said, stepping inside.

"Oh please, just call me Charlie," she waved off. "This is Vaggie," she gestured to the girl with the X.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both,"

"Thank you!" Charlie gushed. "Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel-er-"

"Y/N," she said. "My name is Y/N."

"Right! Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel Y/N! Would you like a tour?"

"Of course,"

"Why does the bar look like that?" Y/N asked after the tour was over.

"Someone blew it up a few days ago," Charlie said simply. "Our facility manager fixed it up so it's nothing to worry about!"

"Oh-uh-" Y/N didn't know was to say. "I'm glad it's all fixed."

"Oh my gosh!" she exclaimed. "I have to introduce you to everyone! C'mon!" Charlie grabbed her arm and dragged her away.

"This is Nifty, our maid," she said gesturing to the small demon, cleaning the floor. "Nifty, this is Y/N, she'll be staying with us

Nifty turned around and her eye widened and she smiled in a scary way.

"Ooooo! I've never seen a bad girl before!" she said menacingly as she crawled up on you. "Do you want to punish some bad boys with me?"

"Just give me the time and place, sweetie," Y/N said, putting Nifty down. Nifty quicky ran off.

"She's mostly harmless," Charlie said nervously. "Just don't let her bite you."

"I'll keep that in mind," she laughed.

"This is Husk, our bartender," she said gleefully.

Husk was drinking from a bottle, he nodded at Y/N but didn't say anything.

"It's nice to meet you, Husk," she said politely.

Husk recognized her at second glance, almost spitting out his booze, he decided not to say anything about it, though.

"Oooooo heya Y/N~" said a voice.

Y/N turned around and grinned. "It's nice to see you again Angel Dust,"

"Ohhh it's nice to see you too baby~" he said seductively.

"Oh that's wonderful!" Charlie exclaimed, her eyes sparkilng. "You two know each other!"

"Yeah, we met at a party a while back," Y/N explained. "He kept wantin' to look at a sword that I had just got."

"Y'know babycakes," Angel said, walking over to her. "I could show you my sword, if you want~"

"Another time, Angel," Y/N laughed, Charlie laughed awkwardly with her.

"Well, I think that's it!" Charlie said, clapping her hands together. "I'll show you to your room and if there's anything you need, just-"

"Oh, we have a new guest? Heavens, why didn't anyone tell me?" said a staticky voice.

Y/N turned and saw the infamous Radio Demon standing right behind her. Upon closer inspection, there was a look in his eyes that seemed familiar.

Too familiar.

Y/N had loved looking into those eyes, it had brought comfort to her.

"Oh my gosh! How could I forget!" Charlie said. "Y/N is going to be helping us around the hotel just like you!"

At the mention of her name, something pulled at Alastor's heartstrings.

"Well, we need all the help we can get, that's for certain," Alastor laughed.

That laugh, Y/N had imagined it every single day when she arrived in Hell.

"Y/N, this is our facility mana-"

"Alastor?"

Her voice, it sounded like an angel. Alastor remembered the first time he heard it. Everything clicked into place for the both of them.

"Y/N?"

Sorry if all the characters are a little ooc. I need to rewatch the show lmao.

THERES AN ECLIPSE TODAY!!!

stay safe out there you little rascals <33

xoxo, Izzy

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #alastor x reader #alastor altruist #alastor altruist x reader #character x reader #hazbin hotel imagines #vaggie #charlie #rosie #angel dust #husk #nifty

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zairene · 1 year ago

Note

hey girl i loved your dazai relationship headcanons SM, can I please ask for a version with Chuuya? YOUR WRITING IS LITERALLY AMAZING.

AS A BOYFRIEND. chuuya nakahara

* �� ✦ synopsis: how chuuya nakahara would be like as a significant other.

* ˚ ✦ genre: headcanons !

* ˚ ✦ warnings: spoiler free + a fem reader is also very heavily implied / stated !

* ˚ ✦ author’s note: sure you can ! and ty so much that means a lot <333 i did write as y/n still in the ADA, if you don’t mind !

chuuya nakahara, the hot-headed and impulsive young man who you were interested in when you first met him.

he’s very arrogant when it comes to his abilities and his remarkable skills revolving around the port mafia. he may talk a lot of shit, but he can still definitely beat your ass at any time any day, no doubt. and this personality does NOT come off as pleasing to women, hence his failure in the romance department. so, when he realized that you weren’t immediately disgusted with him after knowing him for such a little time, he already developed some appreciation for you.

with chuuya, there is also a lot of patience with him too—but not in the way you would think. chuuya had a difficult time trusting you. chuuya despises dazai, and it’s very well known, and knowing that you were a part of the armed detective agency and was on dazai’s side put him off. yes, even in their years of rivalry and multiple times of working together, he just doesn’t find himself truly trusting him or you.

it’s not like you weren’t trustworthy or showed signs of being dishonest, he just knew that if he became too vulnerable with you, it would open up an opportunity for you to betray him and he doesn’t do well with betrayal. he knows that it’s not impossible to gain his trust, so he respects you at first, but he keeps his distance.

so yes, you have to chase him, he doesn’t chase you.

think of the trope of, she falls first but he falls harder… sort of.

this started with subtle flirting from you, very subtle to the point where it had him going insane on the fact whether or not you were interested in him. it’s not like he could go to someone with advice so he was seriously stressing himself out over it. there were times even when dazai pointed it out but chuuya would brush it off as dazai trying to poke fun at him.

after you did it multiple times, he finally decided he would reciprocate it because it’s not like he didn’t like you, he was just surprised at the fact HE DID? so, the one time he came back with an even risker line with you, you were shocked. this had you excited because you finally had some type of confirmation that he liked you! now the next step, asking him out.

it was hard catching him in his free time with being the port mafia’s strongest martial artist. he was constantly sent out on missions and meetings. just to your luck, you found him strolling the streets one random day, and that encouraged you to just go up to him knowing this moment would not occur again.

this confession was just you talking and him staring at you with his widened eyes and his lips slightly parted. and when you were done speaking, he could only spit out one thing. “yeah… yeah sure.”

and that started your relationship with him!

i honestly don’t believe it would be filled with arguments, at least not real ones. because the PETTY ARGUMENTS you guys have is an hourly occurrence. no joke. the playful banter between the both of you is amazing, but his competitive spirit can get overwhelming and it causes petty arguments. at this point, you kinda just believe that he likes to hear himself talk.

i feel that the biggest problem you would have in a relationship is his major trust issues. mentioned before, he doesn’t do well with shady or shifty behavior. this doesn’t pair well with situations where you want to have a surprise party for him for his birthday, but he’s under the impression that you’re doing something behind his back that isn’t as innocent as it is.

the product of this is arguments and a lot of breaks between you two. he’s not difficult to talk to, but incredibly difficult to get to, if that makes sense. it would take a lot for him to believe that you’re being truthful. you can sense he takes loyalty very seriously, so after the birthday party incident, you took a mental note that surprises don’t sit well with chuuya and to make sure to not do them again.

other than that, your relationship with him is pretty smooth!

however, he also has his moments where he makes weird comments toward you trying to suggest that you’re “inferior” to him and that you can’t handle yourself. he always feels like he has to protect you or things will go downhill even when you have proved countless amount of times that you were extremely capable.

those times when you have to give him a reality check and bring him back down to earth for a second. his apologies are him bringing you a bouquet and a long talk about how sorry he is why he made those comments and how he would never make them again. you forgave him and he really stood by his word! he always gave you credit when it was due, maybe too much sometimes, but you can tell he was sorry.

other than that, some general things would be that he isn’t a big fan of PDA. he doesn’t hate it but doesn’t prefer it. he wouldn’t mind if you just held his hand or kissed him on the cheek (maybe lips) but would much rather save everything else for in private. he’s all for separating his work life from his relationship with you, especially since both of your workplaces are against each other. he’s very awkward when it comes to intimacy, but once you’re together for a while he likes it, especially getting home after a very rough mission that day.

he likes to act like he hates pet names, even the silly ones you give him, but he likes them. he would never admit that you calling him pookie bear makes his heart happy each time.

overall, chuuya is a pretty good guy who has his moments. he can be painfully unaware of himself and his actions sometimes so you have to handle the liberty of telling him off and putting himself in his place when it’s needed. but don’t worry, he never takes it to heart when he realizes he’s wrong. he loves you and as the relationship goes on, he learns to trust you a little more every day.

(📦) — BUNGOU STRAY DOGS TAGLIST // @4nthonyyliving

(📝) — TAGLIST FORM :: sign to be apart of the taglist!

#✏️ :: — fanfiction !#bungou stray dogs fanfiction #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara x y/n #chuuya nakahara x you

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 7 months ago

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Do you see the differences between the game and the novel Twisted Wonderland? I didn't notice much until I searched on Youtube, Novel Ace was ready to apologize to Yuu ( in this case Yuuya) for insulting, Malleus isn't our little sweet dragon boy but literally choking Yuuya ?!

Yes, I do keep up with the differences between all official adaptations of TWST! This includes the light novel, which in my opinion has the most frequent and significant deviations from the game. It’s been very interesting to compare the two.

I don’t immediately comment on every change (of which there are many) I see unless specifically asked about it or I notice something pretty major. Some examples of the latter would be the like novels elaborating on Leona’s motives or Riddle’s flashback and the consequences of his actions.

I think this is facilitated by two factors: 1) the light novel format allowing for more space to expand on ideas and concepts, and 2) Yuuya is the most different Yuu we’re gotten. The game Yuu is very much a blank slate for players to project onto in order to easily immerse them in the story. Meanwhile, the manga Yuus tend to be the “helpful” types that move the story along in their own way. This is because the manga has limited space in the magazines they run in, so they need to keep things snappy and follow the main story pretty strictly. The light novel is able to stop and have the POV character reflect, doubt themselves, and refuse involvement because a medium that is inherently mostly words forces you to slow down and take in everything on the page. There’s no limit or demands of a book, so the events have much more time to “marinate”.

Personally, I really love a lot of the minor changes in the light novel. I feel they really flesh out the relationships between characters, particularly Yuuya and his friendship with Ace and Deuce. Ace actually has the guts to realize he was the one who fucked up and apologizes for being an ass. It’s so in line with the brutal honesty he dishes out it to others. Deuce stays up late into the night talking to Yuuya and makes them feel welcome because when was the last time he had done anything like this? Yuuya was always the loner back home, ignored by his classmates and feeling invisible. Now he has loyal friends who got his back and actively tell off mob students who sneer at his enrollment. Moments like this make me really care about their bond and make it more believable that they would trek halfway across Twisted Wonderland to come to Yuuya’s aid in the eventual book 4 of the novelization.

dbksbejwjwwhei The one thing that caught me off guard about your ask was the “Malleus chokes Yuuya” part, which I do not recall ever happening 😅 I went back into the light novel to cross reference just in case I had forgotten! I believe you’re referring to when Yuuya and Malleus first meet in book 2? In which case, I think there was reader misinterpretation involved.

What happens is that Malleus begins to introduce himself, then stops and says he permits Yuuya to pick a name for him. But Yuuya, feeling uncomfortable with the idea of nicknaming someone he just met, asks for Malleus’s actual name (something which game Yuu does not do). This incurs Malleus’s anger—“I have said no. Did you not hear me?” It is then that we get a few paragraphs describing how Yuuya goes “stiff”, a “briar-like tension seizes his body, making it impossible to move”, “fear [making his] heart race”, he “[forgets] to breathe” etc. (Fan translation by Yuurei!)

To me, that… doesn’t read as Malleus choking Yuuya, let alone laying a finger on him. It’s more like Yuuya is so consumed by fear that he finds himself entirely paralyzed and unable to argue back, so instead he submits and lets the subject drop. There’s no mention of Malleus “letting go” or anything either, just the fairy lights brightening again once his mood clears and he realizes Yuuya isn’t looking to defy him. It’s also important to note that, previously, the night in this scene was described as tranquil and pleasant—the emphasis is on how Malleus’s mood shifts the atmosphere and the “feeling” of the night.

So!! The “seizing” mentioned is NOT literal; a feeling could “seize” you too, coming in suddenly and with great power. This is a literary device known as personification, or giving a non-human object or action human-like qualities or skills. When used to describe the briar-like feeling, it’s also a simile, which is when you use “like” or “as” to compare two things.

… Besides, imagine Yuuya being choked out by someone during your first meeting and then no description of him freaking out?? And then still building a whole friendship based on this weird encounter??? Even though Yuuya has a history of catastrophizing and even thinks about Leona explicitly tearing his throat out just because of Leona’s powerful presence???? That just does not make sense. It also doesn’t make sense for Malleus’s character. Yes, he can lash out at people, but here it feels like he’s telegraphing his displeasure (via the atmosphere, similar to how his mood disrupts the weather) rather than resorting to a physical attack (or using magic to bind someone in place).

#twisted wonderland #twst #Malleus Draconia #Riddle Rosehearts #Leona Kingscholar #Deuce Spade #Ace Trappola #twst light novel #twisted wonderland light novel #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #question #Kuroki Yuua #Yuuya Kuroki #Yuu #twst manga #twisted wonderland manga

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ellieslittleburrow · 7 months ago

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Summary : You're fighting off a bunch of men when Reacher comes to help. But you don't need his help. What does he do about that?

Pairings : Jack reacher x Platonic!reader

Warnings : fighting men

A/N : what a good change, i love this strong female lead thiing. Also what do we think?? Do we like??? Should we do more Reacher? Enjoy 🌸 also wtf i've never written something this fast.

----

"Let's split." You shout, spinting after the long-legged man while Reacher goes after the other one.

Your feet follow as your eyes scan through the crowds, you can't let this one go, he needs to be int- He takes a right turn, and as you enter the same alley, you find him already jumping over the fence-Nothing difficult for you...You've done that many a times- and as your shoes stick to the wall, you push against your arms to lift yourself up and over the brick bloc, jumping down onto the next alley-

You notice his body dissapearing into the right, and as you ready yourself to start running again, a couple of men suddenly appear from both sides, sending you staggering backwards in surprise.

"Don't make this too hard on yourself, little lady."

You straighten yourself up-You can't seem scared- You're not scared. And as they confidently walk closer to you, you examine their figures, the way their arms fall at their thighs. Big men...Boohoo...Too confident they don't realize you just shoved your hand into your pocket to put your brass knuckle in. Play time, fuckers.

As the first guy reaches for you, you pull his hand and kick your foot into his stomach-giving yourself some time to launch at the next guy, who throws a punch your way-you dodge it, punching him from under the chin, he staggers back and before you get to attack him again, the other guy grabs you from behind, swiftly pulling you from the ground and into the air. You squirm, freeing your arm from his grip to swing it back violently, your elbow landing somewhere on his face-You don't know where but it's a good enough place because he let go of you.

"Little lady, huh?" You scoff, throwing a punch at his face before spinning around to twist the hand that just gripped your shoulder-they might be big, but they're not as trained as you and you take advantage of that by punching his face while his hand is still twisted. He groans as the knuckle kisses his skin. You spin around again, finally ready to finish one of them off. The first guy is standing back up, his body rocking back and forth, conveying a lack of balance. "I'm gonna enjoy-" You swing your foot upward, landing it right under his testicules and as soon as he bends down in pain, you take ahold of his head, kicking your knee right into his face-

A crack sounds behind you, causing you to tuck and to spin around-Reacher.

Your eyes meet and Reacher lets go of the man's body, letting the cadaver hit the ground. You stare at him, unsure of your own emotions. Only then does the realisation hit you that the man you needed to catch escaped!!!

"Did you catch him????" You ask and your face reddens as anger courses through you. He did the fuck not.

"No" Reacher coldly says, only heightening your anger even furthur.

You close the distance between you two, lifting your chin up to look at him.

"Why would you fucking do that, Reacher? We've been running after this guy for a month-What the hell is wrong with you?" You yell. But that doesn't do much to him, so you push against his chest. "I'm talking to you-fucking answer me." You demand, your face leaning in every direction his goes. He's avoiding your eyes and you hate that. "HEY!"

"I COULDN'T LEAVE YOU HERE ALONE." He yells back and you startle, taking a discreet step back.

"I don't need your help, Reacher." You only lower your voice a tiny bit. "I can take care of my own god damn self."

You look back when breathing sounds behind you, snapping you out of the fight. "Oh yeah, him." The guy you knocked out starts waking up. You walk over to him, dropping to your knees to plant your knuckle into his face, knocking him out a second time.

"I don't need your help."

"It's not-it's in my instincts. I can't help it."

You scuff. "As flattering as that sounds, Reacher, my case is drowned. It's fucked. So please do me the favor of keeping your mouth shut-you're not the strongest guy in the world, i did not need you."

"Yeah! And you're not in a competition, relax."

You'd gasp at his response if you could-but you didn't want to puff his chest up for him. Ouch...You ignore the sting in your heart, brushing past him to walk back home.

What a guy...

----

Hello again ❤️❤️❤️🥀🥀🥀 i hope you enjoyed this 🌸 i'll see ya next time!

#reacher fanfiction #reacher x reader #jack reacher x reader #reacher #jack reacher #reacher x platonic!reader #platonic!reader #alan ritchson x reader #alan ritchson #alan ritchson x platonic!reader #jack reacher x you #protective brother

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siolixz · 26 days ago

Text

~Veils of Crimson~

Chapter 3

Pairings: oz cobb x reader (Carmine Falcone's daughter)

Chapter three is here!! We got Al's ya-know-what in this one and maybe a more intimate moment with our fav big scary man, too :)All jokes aside, from here on, the chapters overall are gonna get much darker, that's what I initially wanted with this story-I don't know yet if reader is gonna be happy in the end, I mean, I paired her up with the guy that killed her brother, tried to light her dad up in front of the whole police department and we still have yet to see what he's gonna do with Sofia. Also, there will be no “cat fight” or big interaction between reader and Eve, I hate that shit, lets say Oz stopped sleeping with her some time before reader comes back home,mkay?Remember we are seeing this through the eyes of the reader, shes infatuated with him and naive in a way. Please take everything I wrote and I'm gonna write with a grain of salt, this is fiction and Oz "The Penguin" Cobb ain't a nice guy and that's okay, I don't wanna change him-I wanna make him worse!

Again, I took my inspo from Driving Miss Falcone by (https://www.tumblr.com/genevievedarcygranger here on tumblr), check out the story if you can.

Enjoy, give feeback if u want xoxo.

Warnings: mature language, smut (not in this chapter sorry AGAIN next chapter i pinky swear), general horniness.

“You’re just as gorgeous as I remember.”

It felt nice hearing him say that. You hoped that the nerves you felt inside didn’t show up on your face as well.

“Nice car, Oz.” You simply couldn’t help yourself from mentioning that. “Purple’s a nice color.”

He raised an eyebrow and, while still smiling, said, “Well technically it's plum- but I know, right?”

“We three of us have a lot of catching up to do. Why don’t we go for dinner?” your sister interjected.

Oz tore his eyes off of you when hearing her. “Sure, we cou—”

“How about right now?”

Once seated at the restaurant and after ordering some food, Sofia was the first to break the awkward silence.

“Are you nervous, Oz? I would hate for you to be nervous with me. ‘Cause despite what you might think, I don’t blame you.” Okay, here she goes. “I mean if you haven’t gone to my father.”

Oz started fiddling around, smoothing out the tablecloth. “He left you no choice.”

When the food arrived, Sofia had no qualms digging in like a neanderthal, so Oz and you chatted about the last few years, like nothing changed. Except, things did change. Oz ran the Iceberg Lounge; he served as your father’s lieutenant of sorts, and from what you understood, he also ran the drops operation. He asked you about life in Europe and if you missed it. You told him that nothing compares to Gotham.

“Yeah, you’re right about that one, kid.” You don’t know why, but Oz seemed really lost in thought after that comment. He seemingly stopped saying anything and just looked at you.

“I’m so sorry to interrupt this little love affair you guys got going on, but I would also like to ask Oz a few things.” Sofia was done eating and now was on her second martini. Great, she's going to dig into him now.

“Alberto told me he was going to your club last night to get to our father’s loft. I—well, we—” she gestured toward you, “wanted to join, but he has been so protective over us lately that he didn’t want us leaving the house. It was all part of this plan; it was our shared secret. But today I hear you talk about revolutionizing the drug business.” Sofia was right to mention that. How on earth did he know?

“How do you know about his plan?” she continued. “And why on earth would you pitch it as your own? You know, it’s so brazen that you either have to be blindingly stupid or wildly confident that he isn't coming back to reclaim it. So I ask you again: do you know where our brother is?” she asked.

“Listen, Sofia—” Oz glanced at you. “You two are the surprise here.”

“Excuse me?”

“Al never told me you guys were back or that you were in on this thing with us.” All right, so that explains things. “You know me and my stupid mouth. Ya know, I screwed up. Maybe you could put in a good word. I—I don’t wanna put that on you, but he was so passionate about his plan, I thought there was no reason not to move forward, just because he is on another bender, you know the shipment arrives in a few days, right?”

Bender? What was Oz talking about?

“Bender? What do you mean, a bender?” you interrupted.

Oz moved his eyes toward you and said, “Al’s an addict, sweetheart.” You could see him trying to break this news as softly as he could. “He’s got a penchant for drops.” He looked at your sister again. “And booze and gambling, and I’m pretty sure he’s got a sex thing too-so yeah- but look, this isn’t the first time he has gone AWOL. He always comes back.” Oz continued, “And if he was at my club last night—I wouldn’t know. I was actually drowning my sorrows with my lady friend last night, Eve.”

So Oz has a girlfriend. That’s interesting.

“But if it makes you feel better, we can go there right now, scour the joint—I doubt anything is gonna turn up, but it’s worth a shot, whatever will put minds at ease.”

“You know what? You’re right. I think we are both just being crazy. He’s probably gonna turn up. Let's stay in and enjoy our meal.” your sister said.

As you were all ready to leave, you couldn’t help but feel jealous. Eve—what a lucky lady. You wondered what she probably does for a living—you could certainly find out. It’s been five years, you know, expecting anyone to stay celibate in order to wait for you, if you even arrived at all, was unnatural.

After your sister put on her coat, she got on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek. She whispered something in his ear you had no idea what, but he looked once again frustrated, lost in thought. Maybe Oz was lying. Maybe not. She immediately disappeared outside, leaving you all alone with him. If she kissed his cheek, now you gotta do that too. Thanks, Sofia.

He winked at you and said, “Next dinner’s on me, all right, doll? You still owe me one after you left me hanging.” He smiled, flashing those gold teeth of his.

Raising your eyebrows, you asked him, “You remember?”

“Of course I do.”

“All right, Oz, you got a deal.” You smiled and raised yourself up to hug him properly. He was one big man. He wrapped his big arms around you and you felt so warm. Being this close to him, smelling him and holding him like this felt almost euphoric. “I missed you,” you said, your voice low enough so that only he could hear. You didn’t want any prying ears to run to the press, even if you did know they would after seeing you and Sofia back in Gotham at a very expensive restaurant.

He lowered his voice and told you, “Missed you too, doll.”

The road home was very quiet. Sofia was too busy looking things up on her phone. Every once in a while, you would mention something, like the floods or the spike in crime ever since your dad passed. You say “passed” so you don’t have to say, “he was shot dead by a crazy maniac while being arrested with the literal entire police department next to him.” Life feels so weird lately, like a dream. With your dad being gone, Al has to step up.

Now, the thing about being a mob boss was that once you die, there is always gonna be a power vacuum. Like sharks, all your enemies and friends are gonna push themselves so they can get to the top; best man will win.

Once in a while, she would acknowledge you with a nod or a tiny smile, but nothing compared to the hour-long conversations you guys used to have. You knew she was angry at Oz, at your family for writing all those letters that solidified her reason to stay there—anyone would be. Arkham was a jungle; it was eat or be eaten—but this quest for vengeance, this anger inside of her, was going to eat her alive. You knew that. Alberto told you all about her fears and how she felt.

Alberto, God, you hoped he was okay. You loved your brother; he was rash and careless, quick to anger and naive in his arrogance—but he was still your brother. He should be running the show; he deserved it.

As you looked outside, you saw some of the destruction that those floods brought. Maybe you and your sister could help make things right for some of these people; maybe you could redirect a percentage of the money toward helping them rebuild Gotham, rebuild the Falcone’s reputation.

She declined your request. Of course she did; why would we help them? “We have so many problems on our back right now,” she said, and while true, you also heard what Oz said. He wouldn’t lie to you or your sister like that, right?

As the hours passed, Sofia became more and more restless. She HAD to find him. You too were worried sick. You wanted to go with her to search the Iceberg Lounge, but she said it’s more important for you to stay, so nothing bad happens to you too. All right, you stayed.

In the meantime, you talked to Viti and Milos. Maybe you could help the family’s reputation. They looked at you like you told them you were gonna start stripping. So you did what you could and sold some of your old clothes, jewels, and shoes that day. You knew just the guy that would buy your stuff; he was surprised to see you but happy. Unlike the people that saw your sister again, you were happy—so very happy. All that money went to a good cause, you could finally appear on the news for a good thing and you weren’t gonna wear some of those old things anyway. As you texted your aunt, when you arrived back home; a car sped past you and crashed into the fountain.

What the hell?

Sofia exited the greenhouse, dressed in all black, like she was going to a funeral. You yelled out her name, scared that a bomb would go off when she got close to the car. Everyone else exited the house- armed guards ready for whatever the fuck that noise was.

The door to the driver's seat was open, and a brick was placed on the gas pedal. You weren’t close enough to see what she was looking at when she opened the trunk; you only read the writing on top: ‘PAYBACK.’

What the fuck was this?

The scream your sister let out was unlike anything you ever heard, and then you knew.

Your brother was dead.

Not long after the discovery of his body you learned who could be responsible for it. Your brother was murdered by the only people crazy or powerful enough to go after the Falcone family—the Maronis.

If Sal Maroni had the sort of power to do something like that while in jail, what else was he capable of? What was his next step? Was he going to go after your sister and then you?

You had to push those thoughts aside. The news of your brother's murder was blasted on every news outlet in the city, and you were constantly reminded of how dangerous this life, that you didn’t even choose—neither you nor your siblings—truly was. You needed to be protected.

A man like Carmine Falcone struck fear in the hearts of his enemies and, well, he struck fear in the hearts of everybody—no one dared to touch you or even look at you weird or disrespectfully.

You knew that Sofia was never going to be allowed to be in charge—she was a woman AND a certified crazy woman at that—so Viti called your uncle Luca to come over and step up as the boss. Another slap directed toward your sister.

As she explained to you, the family’s operation of Drops was being moved. You were losing a lot of profit with those terrible floods and all.

Viti and Milos didn’t even care about the “family” or your guys’ reputation; they couldn’t care less about your sister or you. The more quiet you were, the better.

Well, Sofia wasn’t like that—in times like these, most especially in times like these, you needed all hands on deck.

Every day you checked the news. First thing in the morning, a small part of you hoped you would see your brother there, with the news that he was alive after all—that everything was just a dream. His funeral was tomorrow, and you didn’t even know if you had the strength to get up, get dressed, do your makeup, and then be surrounded by like a hundred people.

As you lay in bed, texting your aunt, filling her in with all the information you could remember about your current situation, you heard cars screech in front of the mansion. A shiver ran up your spine; you stopped dead from texting and tried to listen to what was happening downstairs. You were terrified—were these the Maronis? Coming to kill all of you?

When you heard all the familiar voices of your armed guards in the house, you were relieved but still worried. You ran out of your room as quickly as your slippers allowed.

You saw Oz come inside, brows furrowed, hot and heavy and all bloodied, you ran to him.

“Oz! Are you okay? What—what happened?” you asked.

“Yeah—yeah I’m okay, those sons of bitches caught—” he started, but Viti interrupted him.

“OZ! Come inside, tell us what happened, now.”

He looked at you apologetically, but you told him to go.

While Oz was yelling inside, you were listening to Castillo’s retelling of what happened: the Maronis attacked the shipment, so the situation was clear—this was an all-out gang war.

Not long after, your sister came home as well. You exchanged quick hellos, but she bolted into the meeting room, conveniently leaving the door slightly ajar—an invitation. Get your ass inside; Dad’s dead, everything has gone to shit, and you’re not 19 anymore.

You followed her in, touching her side affectionately as you passed to let her know you were there for her. Oz was still yelling about how he saved the men there, and Viti was very fucking pissed. You leaned back against the table overlooking the men sitting there. It felt like an episode of a reality show.

“Is that all you care about? The product? The money we lost?” Sofia said, smoking.

Oz glanced at you and gave you a quick smile.

“We can get more money, gentlemen. I think you’re missing the point here—the Maronis humiliated our family. They took my brother and shoved his body in the trunk of a car—like he was a piece of trash.” Ugh, maybe you should’ve just gone to your room. “He deserves justice.”

“Look, Sofia, we all cared for Alberto—” Milos started.

“Well, I doubt that, Milos. I really do. Justice is what matters, and that is what my brother, your nephew, deserves,” she said, pointing at your uncle, Luca.

“WHY AREN’T HIS KILLERS STRUNG UP ACROSS THE CITY?!” she shouted. Okay, maybe that was a bit much, you thought. Killing them would be enough, geez.

“When the time is right, the Maronis will pay,” Johnny said.

“Well, if they knew our route, they weren’t working alone. There must be someone on the inside” Everyone turned towards you and the tension in the room was palpable. " helping them—someone in our own family.”

“How dare you two come in here, like you mean something,” Viti sneered, God you hated this asshole. “You don’t call the shots around here—”

“Johnny!” your uncle stopped him from insulting you. “Neither do you. And those are my nieces you’re talking to. Show them some fucking respect! " Luca said. Viti called both your names and apologized, but you could see the insincerity behind his eyes, almost like he was mocking you with the way he apologized.

Luca instructed everyone on what they had to do, and the meeting broke up-he called it a night.

“Do you need anything from me, boss?” Oz asked.

“You’ve done enough,” Luca replied, his voice firm.

As everyone started to leave, you told Oz the hour of the funeral tomorrow. He urged you to get some rest and promised he would see you then.

On your way upstairs, you heard him stop Sofia. You didn’t catch much of their conversation, just something about being desperate.

The next day, at the funeral, the press, the photographs, the protests—it was all too much. You couldn’t find Oz either and you wanted to get home so bad. You quickly went to the bathroom to gather yourself, and when you came back, you spotted him.

“Hey. I didn't see you in there. I thought you didn’t come,” you said, relief washing over you.

“You looked for me?” he asked, surprise in his voice.

“Yes, of course. You promised,” you replied, stepping closer. The suit he wore reminded you of a simpler time; when he was just your driver.

“How are you holding up, kid?” he asked, his empathy evident.

“I’m okay, for the most part. He shouldn’t have gone the way he did. The Maronis will pay, I’m sure.”

“Yeah, they will. I promise.” Standing with him, overlooking the crowd below, you felt a mix of despair and hope. “You know, I’m very well aware that the mob needs a strong hand—an iron fist—to lead it. But an iron fist can be gentle too. It all depends on who has it.”

There was a pause as he took in your words. He nodded, took a deep breath, and continued, “You know, we didn’t have a service for my brothers.” You felt a pang of sorrow for him, knowing how deeply the loss affected him. He went on about his mother, how grief consumed her, how one day-all of a sudden- she got out of bed, told him to get ready and they went dancing to lift her spirits. You knew his brothers were dead and his mom too, but he nevet told you this story.

He looked into your eyes, then at your lips, then back into your eyes. Did he want to kiss you? Oh no, was your lipstick smeared?

“Do you want to go with me to listen to some music and eat some good food one of these days? You promised.” he asked, and excitement bubbled inside you.

“What about Eve, or whatever her name was.” You asked.

He was surprised by your question but he nevertheless told you “Theres all sorts of friends out there, no?” Ok, whatever that means.

"Yeah-sure I'll go. You kept your promise, I'll keep mine, plus I owe you." you said, trying to hide your enthusiasm.

"I'll have my driver-" he started

“You have a driver?” you didn't mean it to sound so stuck up, shit.

“Yeah, I do. What? You think a club owner doesn’t have one?” Oz joked, you were so glad he wasn't bothered by that comment, maybe he knew you didn't mean it like that.

For the first time in a week, you felt genuinely excited about something.

As the funeral dragged on, your mind wandered to what you would wear. You settled on a stunning Yves Saint Laurent dress from the '90s—black velvet, understated yet elegant. You added Oz’s gift from long ago as your necklace and a pair of Tiffany earrings to complete the look. To avoid drawing attention, you had your driver take you to the restaurant instead of arriving together.

When you arrived, Oz was already seated. As soon as he noticed you, he gave a low whistle and flashed that dazzling smile of his. You walked over, and with your heels clicking on the floor, you greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. God, he smelled amazing.

You couldn’t help but notice the stares from the other patrons. A beautiful woman smiling ear to ear with the scariest man they’d ever seen—it was a spectacle.

As Oz took your jacket and helped you get seated, you soaked in the atmosphere of the restaurant. It was bustling but cozy, with soft lighting and a stage at the center where musicians were preparing to play.

“You look gorgeous, I mean, wow,” Oz said, his gaze lingering on you, especially your breasts "Nice necklace you got."

“Well thank you! You don’t look too bad yourself. Nice seat you picked out; we can see everything from here,” you replied, smiling at him

“Yeah, I know the owner- he made us a reservation yesterday. This place is a big deal, ya know?”

“I figured-there's a lot of people-all looking at us.” You wondered if they recognized you.

He chuckled to himself “Ha, trust me doll they are sure as shit all looking at you.”

Your waiter came by and by the time the performance started you already drank half the wine they poured for you.

The songs were amazing, the food great, the performance was amazing-it was loud, but not too loud so you couldn’t hear each other speak- and the company, whew, the company, was out of this world.

You shared with Oz memories from France and you guys reminisced about the sort of bullshit you used to be up to, from sneaking out to maxing out one of your dad’s credit cards. You don’t remember the last time you laughed this hard.

“Oh this is one of my favorite songs.” Oz said and you quieted down to listen to the music, as he looked at the performance, you had some time to look at him in this light.

You thought he was one of the most handsome men you ever saw in your life, the scar that ran up from his top lip to his cheekbones, gave him this look about him -mysterious and dangerous- he could kill someone in cold blood and then be the sweetest man in the whole world-I mean, what's there not to like?

His brown eyes had such a gorgeous shine. Sure, his hair was thinning at the top and no one in a million years would expect a girl your age and status to be with someone like him. But there was something more about Oz, this charisma he had, he could talk his way out of anything, you wondered what else he could do with that tongue.

The wine is starting to speak now, maybe regular you as well.

He noticed your wine glass being empty and he grabbed the bottle from the table and filled it up again.

“Thank you.” you giggled. God you wanted him to kiss you.

He smiled at you.

“You wanna dance?” he said, gesturing with his head towards the dance floor in the middle of the room, 5 couples were already dancing together and even if you had two left feet, slow dancing was another thing, he leads, you follow-you were way more comfortable with that.

You didn’t answer him, you just got up and followed him to the dance floor.

Now everyone has a reason to stare at you.

“How do you feel? Better?” he asked. You were so close to him, you could stretch your neck and kiss him

“Yeah, I do feel better. Thank you.. for this.” you answered, this wine man, you don’t know what they put in it but it's good.

The pause that followed wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable, you were both staring at each other and Oz broke the silence

“You know” he started chuckling to himself more like “I think you might be the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah right”

You didn’t even notice when you got so close to his face or when his lips pressed against yours, all you knew your stomach was doing jumping jacks and that you wanted to break out in a smile-which you did.

It was a very sweet kiss, but rudely interrupted by Oz whispering in your face

“I shouldn’t have done that.”

This time you kissed him, the scar on his lip felt so peculiar, but nice too.

After your little make out sesh on the dance floor the music stopped and you were forced to do the walk of shame back to your seats. Some of the older people there gave you some dirty looks, like-couldn't you two get a room- maybe it was that, maybe they thought it was wrong to be kissing a much older man-who was clearly- a gangster.

After you two got to your seats, you checked your phone and your smile and good disposition disappeared immediately when you finally saw that you had around 15 missed calls and about 10 messages from Sofia-the last one reading:

“WHERE ARE YOU?”

Author's note: These past few days I've been writing like crazy. It feels nice to be passionate about things. Thank you for reading. Next chapter is gonna be up tmrw, probs.

#the penguin #oz cobb #the penguin tv #oswald cobb x reader #oswald cobblepot #oz cobb x reader #the penguin hbo #the penguin x reader

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carmenserenity123456 · 16 days ago

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Sasuke never kissed Sakura

The proof of this is Gaiden. Little Sarada asks Sakura very fundamental question which is “did you ever kiss dad?” and look at Sakura’s face expressions. First she is shocked like why would she be shocked at such simple question if her marriage is good. Then we have sadness on her face which answers Sarada’s question. She never kissed Sasuke and she is very sad about it but in the third panel she starts thinking and blushing. She did not want to make Sarada sad but also she wanted to keep her delusion about Sasuke loving her so she comes up with the poke.

I wrote a long post about Itachi’s poke and what it means but to summarize, it is not a gesture of love but it is a polite way to say no to a child and the poke is always used in that context. Sasuke rejected yet again Sakura advances but he did it in a nice way by poking her. Of course she does not know anything about Sasuke and Itachi so she thought that it meant something romantic. It was the one and only time when Sasuke gave her some physical affection. Look how she uses it on Sarada, she does not know what it means at all.

What is even more important is that she says it is something better but again Kishi decided to mock her by the end of the Gaiden. To give better context lets look at how Sakura lies about her feeling being connected to Sasuke. Again Sarada asks Sakura another fundamental question about her marriage and after using violence and scaring her daughter because no one can question her delusions even her daughter, she says that her and Sasuke’s feelings are connected with the same fake smile that she gave Sai during the war arc. Why did she have this fake smile? because she does not truly believe it herself and one of the reasons why, is that Sasuke never gave her any physical affection like real couples do which is also kissing.

Even when Sasuke says that his feelings are connected to Sakura because they have Sarada (he basically states that they are together because of her) Sakura again has this fake smile/expression. She is not 100% sure.

Now lets go to the family dinner. This scene is so awkward. Sarada is happy because Sasuke is at home but look at him. He looks so done and miserable. Sakura does not look even better. It looks like they are playing before Sarada and Sakura does not feel comfortable. Also we can see that Sasuke stayed with his family only one night and the next day he was out.

Given this context, we can come back to the end of Gaiden. Sasuke is saying goodbye to Sarada and Sakura with her fake smile gives him bento. She literally wants to prevent him from giving her poke instead she wants a kiss. We know that if Sakura gave him this blushing expression he would poke her right away to not give her a kiss but here she thought she won. Now Sarada can see that he kissed her but unfortunately for her Sasuke is not stupid and he turns away. If the poke is so much better in her opinion then why do this shit show? Because she knows that a kiss is better and fundamental in the relationship. She does not understand the meaning of the poke and it does not satisfy her. She wanted Sasuke’s kiss her whole life, it was one of her goals and you think that poke makes up for it? Also why is she blushing so much if, as ss states, she gets kisses and love from Sasuke all the time. He stayed the night so why she is so desperate.

Summing up, Sasuke never kissed her or showed her any physical affection at all. I can even bet that they had sex one time during Sarada’s making and it was loveless and not passionate. Very quick to do the job basically. That is why Sakura does not believe in her connection to Sasuke and she fakes it, she is so desperate for his touch. Sasuke learned to tolerate her and to be nice to her only when she does not come between his plans and goals. His face shows it all when Sakura appeared in Gaiden when he was doing his job. He was annoyed, angry and wanted to tell her the hard truth. Lastly, I’d like to think that Sasuke will never kiss her because he got his kiss from the person he truly loves and it is Naruto.

#anti ss #anti sakura #anti ss stans #gaiden #anti sakura haruno #sarada #naruto #boruto #sasuke #narusasu #sasunaru

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fandomwritingbit · 10 months ago

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Sweet girl pt.4

dbf William Afton x fem/virgin reader

synop: William finds reader sunbathing and goes after the opportunity, even with the risk of her dad catching the two of you.

warning: smut, corruption, coercion, inappropriate relationship, exhibitionism(?) William is as always pretty creepy and manipulative.

Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3

A/n: This one is pretty dirty at the end, just a heads up if you're into playing around with cum.

The view was fortunate, is the first thought to enter William’s head when he sees you like that. Completely unaware of him, facing away with your head buried in some book as you try to pick up some sun on your back. Vulnerable to him, the only thing keeping you safe was the french windows of your house, separating the fox from the rabbit.

He’d come over meaning to return some kind of wrench to your dad, in hindsight you remember the conversation in passing, how you hadn’t been paying attention until you learned William was coming. Your father’s car wasn’t in the drive but he let himself in anyway, a flimsy hope of catching you home alone pushing him to. He called out, he’s not a complete criminal, “Anyone home?” and the like, all to no reply. Maybe he would have crept up the stairs to find your room, with you in it would have been delightful, but he still could have busied himself if you weren’t. Now that’s a thought, he bets your room is sweet, probably a tonne of pillows and teddies, some kind of soft light-coloured duvet, that air of innocence you’ve managed to maintain all this time. Delicious.

Maybe he would have done that, if not for the music. Some sort of summery, perhaps Spanish influenced guitar, muffled through the house as though it were close by, so he looked for its source. And by God, is he glad he did.

Your house has a knack for letting a lot of light in, keeps the place bright and airy, and now he sees why, not a stitch of curtains to be found on the large glass windows, and not much of a stitch to be found on you either. It’s the most tantalising sight, your legs bare and leading up to the plump of your arse in such a little bikini, the kind that ties with string at the hips. He notes its practicality for an adjustable fit but also its practicality for other reasons. Just watching through the glass, he palms the growing hardness in his trousers as he considers his options.

Santana, you think to yourself when the next song on the playlist you found begins to play, your dad likes this song, you reckon you do too, though you can’t really decide from one or two listens. And you’re not really concentrating, not with your novel open in front of you, which after days of forcing yourself to read was finally getting interesting. Occupied. Distracted. Easy.

That’s why you don’t hear the back door slide open.

In fact, you don’t hear anything. Not the door. Not the footsteps on the grass. The only thing that makes William’s presence known to you is his shadow on your book, his large frame stealing your light. It’s a chilling sight, the kind of realisation that pushes you into slow motion; there’s someone behind you.

You twist around so fast that your sunbed almost tips over with the force of your body against it, knees tucked up and eyes pinned open wide. The weight of adrenaline in your veins blinds you to the sight, it takes a few seconds before you realise that it’s him, and fear for your life can subside. Well, marginally.

He can’t help but laugh at the frantic way you turned, all reflex as evident in its clumsiness, he should have said something, but hindsight is 20/20.

With your chest still heaving, you try desperately to calm yourself down, “William?!” You say, with no real thought as to why. And at the predatory grin on his face you remember how little you're wearing, your skimpiest bikini, all straps and little substance so you can pick up as much sun as possible. You regret that now, especially with how blatantly his gaze is on your cleavage. “How uh did you get in?” You think the question as you ask it, concern making your brows raise.

Finally managing to bring his gaze to your eyes, the sly expression on his face doesn’t budge an inch. “Door was unlocked.” His words are nonchalant and you nod, wishing you had a towel on hand to cover up with. Your dad was a bugger for leaving the door unlocked, case proven that any fucker could just walk in. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, my fence hopping days are long over.”

You give him a small smile, though you’re not entirely convinced, with how persistent he’s been with you so far you don’t doubt he’d break and enter for another taste; and that thought makes your stomach flutter.

“So… what are you doing?” Your voice is small, pinched with nerves, his stature over you right now is insanely intimidating, so tall you swear he could pick you up and toss you around like a dolly.

“Just enjoying the view, it’s a lovely day.” He makes a point of looking you up and down, leaving you no question as to what view he’s referring to. You’re art, the way you’re propped up on your arms, nipples peeking through the tiny bikini top, your legs shiny in the sun pressed together to hide the part of you that sings to him.

You look up at him shyly, uncertainly saying, “Yeah it is-” Your words go dry in your mouth when William’s hand come to your leg, a firm grip on your ankle that traces up more gently over your calf. You shiver at the touch.

“This isn’t… My dad will be home soon.” You start trying to explain why him coming onto you right now wasn’t a good idea, but when your core is fluttering from his touch it’s pretty persuasive.

“That is such a shame.” His tone is dripping with sarcasm, the false sadness practically tangible. As he speaks, he catches your ankles, lifting them so he can sit at the bottom of the sun bed, where he lets your legs lay over him, resuming grazing over your skin. “And here I was hoping to spend some time with you. It’s just a terrible set of circumstances, isn’t it?” He continues equally as mockingly and you can’t help but giggle. It’s manipulative, you think, how insistent this man can be without seeming too pushy, he has you wrapped around his finger when if anything it should be the other way around.

“”But what if-” You start, but he cuts you off like he can read your mind.

“We’d hear the car.” He offers, it’s flimsy but you’re willing to hang on to anything that would allow his hand to travel further up your leg, closer to where you need him.

You murmur a quiet ‘okay’ and the moment it leaves your lips it’s replaced by the older man’s tongue, his body coming easily over yours and taking you away from the heat of the sun. He wants to be patient with you, slow and deliberate but it's hard when your skin is so soft under his fingers and you’re so receptive to the quick progression of this kiss. And it is quick, the way he invades your mouth is rough and dirty, making your back curve off the sunbed into him.

It’s scary how much you want it, you can’t help it, pulling at his shirt, digging your fingers into his shoulders, spurring him to slide his hand between your legs. The spark is instant, electric pleasure throughout your body, it’s easy for him but your heart is pounding. You melt into it, that perfect way he finds rhythm on your clit, stoking that insatiable pressure in your core. It builds quickly, a slippery flame on a mountain of kindling, leaving you squirming under him as he moves away from your lips and begins sucking a sequence of kisses down your neck.

The angle of his ministrations change, a finger trailing down through your folds and resting firmly on your entrance. You jolt, a short whine escaping your lips. Something close to dread seizes hold of you, you’ve never done that before, never had anyone inside of you and it makes you nervous. Doubly so, when you consider how easy it is for him to have you spiralling.

“I need to feel how tight you are, lovely.” William speaks against your skin, causing goosebumps to prickle across your body, “You gonna let me?” He’s asking but teasing your hole already, your wet heat is just begging for him to slip inside, you know it, he knows it, and so despite the nerves you nod, rolling your hips slightly and resuming his stimulation on your clit yourself.

He’s nice enough to press a single finger in first, slowly at that, letting you adjust to the feeling and waiting until your body relaxes a little before he moves. It’s nothing, but the way you’re clinging on to him says otherwise, scared but not willing to let go of your end that’s still rearing despite the intrusion.

“Such a sweet thing.” He coos besides your ear, distracting you from the second long finger which joins in. It doesn’t hurt but it’s strange and you can’t help but gasp. His name flees your lips in a desperate way and he hums an answer against your skin, not that you had a question to begin with. You just can’t think straight, not with the pace of pushing his digits in and out and the rhythm on your nerves that has your climax tightening its fist around you immediately.

You lose control, shuddering as you cum, the new sensation of having something to clench around making a moan tear through you. It’s hot the way you’re so desperate for him, the most basic of things making you lose your mind, and William tries not to think about how perfect that little cunt is going to feel around his cock, squeezing around him like you are his fingers right now. Eager. Pliant. Fragile.

William pulls out of you and as you begin to regain your senses you realise that you hate how pathetic you are. Only taking because you don’t have the agency to give anything yourself, it’s embarrassing. You want, need to make him feel good.

“I- I want…” You try to speak coherently, but it's a struggle you’re still reeling from your climax, lost in the after waves mulling over you, making your pussy clamp around nothing, impatient with the urge to feel his fingers again, maybe more. He completely scrambles your brain every time and it’s not fair because you can’t seem to do the same, but you want to try. The night outside your house springs to mind, he had seemed so addicted then, like he needed your touch to survive, exactly how you feel right now.

William hums some acknowledgement into the crook of your neck, slick with saliva from his assault there, he doesn’t stop the way you’re squirming has his cock throbbing and he has half a mind to make you cum again for his own gratification.

You try again, forcing the thought out of you, “I want you in my mouth.” You manage, though it’s quiet and your face burns with the words. He blatantly laughs, partially in surprise, before shifting his frame to look at you.

“What?” He knows what you said, he just wants to hear it again.

You keep your eyes away from his, forcing yourself to commit to the idea even when you can’t imagine doing it. “Can I suck your cock?” The second you ask it in that sweet voice of yours he could have bust, so cute, so eager to please.

“Course you fucking can.” There’s a hint of disbelief to his voice that you pride yourself on, you want to be able to surprise him , even though it scares you a little. William moves, standing up, leaving you to sit on the sunbed at the perfect height to be confronted by the arrogant bulge in his trousers. His cock is weeping, desperately hard in that way that you always manage to make him, intentionally or not. Your lip is between your teeth as you watch him reach for his belt, a pang ringing through your core when you think about how big his hands are and what they were doing to you moments ago.

He frees himself, stroking his dick at the sight of you and your obvious nerves. “You know what you’re doing, sweet girl?” He asks you with a wicked grin, god something about you just looking at his cock drives him fucking mad.

“Not really.” You say shakily, resenting the need to be honest.

He chuckles again, your innocence amuses him, “Come here.”

You obey, sitting forward and lifting your hands to take a hold of his cock, it gives you a thrill to touch him, to hear his breath change at your action. So you stroke him eagerly until you have the courage to bring your head closer, his hand instantly cupping the back of your head. He guides your lips to his cockhead, sniggering as he taps his tip against your mouth, some of his precum coating your chin.

You take the initiative to open your mouth and hesitantly stick out your tongue to taste him. It surprises you that it’s not unpleasant and so you settle into it, swirling your tongue around him before parting your lips enough to take his tip, lightly sucking on him.

He groans, “That’s it, baby. Use your hands.” You obey, resuming stroking him whilst toying with the most sensitive part of his cock. He knows you’re not trying to tease him but fuck, his knuckles are white at the back of your head with the effort not to bury himself down your throat and use you like the little doll you are.

The grip in your hair hurts a fair bit but it has you tingling and spurs you to try harder, hollowing your cheeks as you attempt to take more of him, you only half succeed, unable to cope when his cock digs into the back of your throat. He moans when your throat spasms around him, the fluttering making his need to cum very apparent.

William begins to guide your movements a little, battling with the selfish need to fuck to completion and you whine unintelligible protest. It’s a lot to get used to and your panicked eyes say it all when you glance up at him.

“Fuck.” He hisses when he meets your gaze, his voice hoarse with arousal, “You can do it. Just like that- gonna make me fucking-” You recognise the inability to get out a complete sentence and your pride makes the tears in your eyes worth it. Your thoughts are lewd, you want him to cum, want it in your mouth, you want to taste it. Want to swallow it because you know it’ll please him.

But it’s cut short at the crisp sound of a car door slamming shut. The hawk like turn of William’s head confirms it, your dad is back, that absolute piece of fuckin- He lets go of you, rushing to right himself as you did the same, moving swiftly across the garden to grab the towel you left by the door.

You sit back on your sunbed, praying that you don’t look as shattered as William, who’s left high and dry, forced to leave his shirt untucked with the meagre hope that it’ll obscure his raging erection.

“Fucking hell.” He curses under his breath. He’d laugh if his cock wasn’t throbbing.

“I’m sorry.” You say quietly, the sound of the front door closing cutting through the empty house. Clearly you dad wanted to be heard, whereas William previously hadn’t.

“It’s not your fault.” He smirks a little, thinking about how pathetic this situation is. He takes a seat beside you, leaving the respectable amount of distance a middle-aged man should leave his friend’s daughter, whilst trying to think of an explanation for his presence here.

Your father wastes no time in moving through the house looking for you, his calling yielded no response so he heads to the back garden. Emerging from the door, already speaking, “Hey, y/n. I’m back from- William? Didn’t expect to see you here…” The confusion in your dad’s voice is evident, he’s smiling but his eyes are narrow as he assesses the sight before him.

You smile at your dad as best you can, glancing at William when he starts speaking, a crack in his confidence that you hope only you notice. “Chris. I was just after dropping off the socket wrench you leant me, I left it in the kitchen.”

Your dad turns to look back towards the house and you jump in, an idea of an excuse coming to mind. “I was telling him about my book,” Suddenly you’re holding it, as if you were all along and William grins, what a good girl you are. “It’s getting really good, I was probably talking his ear off.” You cross your fingers that your sweet demeanour is enough to settle your dad’s obliviousness.

“No, it does sound good. I’ll have to borrow it.” He manages to deliver it in such a way that it sounds like he’s humouring you, being polite to a young lass’s rambling, it’s sold and your dad bought it.

“Oh right.” Your dad agrees, smiling at his good daughter who’s so well-mannered and respectful to everyone, he’s proud of you. But so is William. “You want to stay for a cuppa?” He asks his friend and William grins at the fact that your dad isn’t the only mug in the house.

“Yeah, that’d be nice.”

He nods, turning to you, “Want one, sweetie?”

“Uh yes, please.” With a word of understanding, your father heads back in the house to sort the tea out, the very moment his back is turned William leans close to you.

“Aren’t you a good liar?” He chuckles his voice playfully dark, you smile but look down. You never used to be a good liar, that must be something this has cultivated. That he has cultivated. Still close to you, William speaks low and full of twisted intention, “Finish it, sweetheart.”

You look at him confused but it quickly dawns on you what he means. “Don’t be crazy, my dad is-”

He cuts off your sensible reasoning, with some of his own, “It won’t take long. Just with your hand, come on.” There’s an immature glee in his eyes as he takes your hand and quickly undoes his belt with the other, you don’t resist, in fact you’re brimming with excitement. This is so stupid, so dangerous, there’s no lying your way out of your hand in his trousers, maybe that’s what makes it sweeter when he places your hand on his cock.

You stroke him quickly, your head is on a swivel between the mouth-watering sight of William tilting his head back in pleasure and the door where you’re willing your dad not to appear. There’s no finesse in it, it’s almost frantic, your hand sliding up and down his cock at a fast pace, trying to push him over the edge as quickly as possible. He’s close, all this fucking around has him begging to finish, its almost unpleasant how much he needs to cum and it shows in the near scowl on his face as you get him closer and closer.

“Shit.” He curses, and you catch the tensing of his body as he finally touches his peak, ridgid as he can’t help but meet your fist as he cums. He spills in your hand, it’s ill thought out some of his release lands in the grass at his feet, but most on himself or trickling down the back of your hand onto the sunbed beneath. Messy and desperate, but he hardly notices through the overwhelming relief.

You breathe out loudly, realising that you’ve been holding your breath for a fair while in anticipation, you’re almost giddy with excitement. He seems to finally notice the mess because he laughs, reaching for the towel around your body and using a corner of it to try to clean up. It looks pretty fucking bad, but it’ll have to surfice.

You wait nervously for him to be done so you can also use it to wipe your hands, he recognises what you’re wanting to do but he has a different idea. He snatches your wrist and brings it to his mouth in a pretty startling way, he’s strong enough that you have no say in the matter, and can only watch as he licks his own release off the back of your hand. He sniggers into the action at the look on your face, near horrified, so sexually inept. It makes him want to do the most depraved things just to see that wide-eyed look. It’s gross, you think, to taste himself on your fingers like that, screwed up even, but you can’t deny the way you’re squirming, rubbing your legs together just to feel a sliver of stimulation.

He’s well on his way to ruining you.

#fnaf #william afton #william afton x reader #william afton smut #fnaf smut #william afton x you #fnaf william afton #fnaf movie #steve raglan x reader #steve raglan x you

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mothercetrion · 1 year ago

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Johnny & Kenshi's "Relationship" in MK1

Well before MK1 was released, Ed Boon had this to say about Kenshi (and Johnny) and their roles in the story:

I was incredibly interested in this "relationship" from that moment and really hoped that it would pay off like he said. I think it has done so tenfold, and I wanted to compile their moments throughout the story together and go through their relationship arc, moment by moment, chapter by chapter, for everyone to enjoy.

This post contains spoilers for both Kenshi and Johnny's roles in MK1, as well as major plot points of the story itself. You have been warned!

To start, if you want to watch a compilation of their moments, you can watch this YouTube video by MKIceAndFire, which includes everything discussed in this post up to Chapter 7.

Chapter 2: Their First Meeting

The climax of Chapter 2 is the back-to-back events of Johnny’s wife, Cristina, leaving him, and Kenshi entering soon after. Kenshi is here on a mission: retrieve Sento from Johnny, no matter the cost. They fight, and Johnny wins. It’s here that they introduce themselves properly (or Kenshi introducing himself to Johnny), and Johnny learns more about his motives and why he needs Sento so badly. He does so to save his family, the Taira clan, from the Yakuza, which they joined for protection after the Siege of Aomori, according to Johnny.

Soon after, Liu Kang, Bi-Han, and Kuai Liang arrive, where Johnny thinks that the trio is a part of Kenshi’s retrieval mission. After Johnny and Bi-Han fight, Liu Kang tells both Johnny and Kenshi about their new role as Earthrealm’s champions. Johnny openly questions Kenshi’s inclusion, still hardly believing his story about being part of the Taira clan. The chapter ends here.

We know from here that Kenshi and Johnny openly do not trust one another and likely hate one another. For Kenshi, Johnny is the one thing in the way of his goal of saving the Taira clan from the Yakuza. When arguing with his wife, Johnny reveals that he paid 3 million dollars for Sento; considering that their impending divorce is over money, it makes sense that he is not willing to just give it to some stranger.

Chapter 3: Bickering

Johnny and Kenshi do not have many scenes in Chapter 3, with most of its focus being on Raiden, but the few scenes they have show us a lot about the state of their relationship. The four Earthrealm champions—Johnny, Kenshi, Kung Lao, and Raiden—discuss their circumstances and their training with the monks. Johnny expresses his desire to see Outworld to do research for the movie franchise that he hopes to make; according to him, they’ve been “cooped up” training for months. Kenshi sarcastically calls him selfless, and Johnny states that he’s only there to get Sento back, indirectly stating that they’re both only training for selfish reasons. Johnny also harshly calls him “Tattoo” as a nickname, not even using his last name as Kenshi does for him.

When Johnny is defeated by Raiden in the mini-tournament set up by Liu Kang, the two glare at one another while Johnny exits the fight and Kenshi enters. The scene is adorned with dramatic music (relating to the tournament at hand) and a slow-motion shot of their expressions. The choices here are likely to emphasize the disdain they have for one another and the insane amount of tension they have between them.

That night, before Raiden and Kung Lao fight, Johnny attempts to bet on Lao’s potential victory. Kenshi is open to a bet, but only if Johnny puts Sento up for grabs. Johnny laughs and says, “Not on your life,” revealing that he has not budged on his desire to keep Sento after all this time.

They have a brief scene when the group leaves for Outworld where Johnny starts filming Kenshi. Kenshi turns with an annoying expression and knocks his phone out of his hand, much to Johnny’s shock. This scene is the last they have in this chapter that has any real significance, minus standing by one another.

The few scenes they have in this chapter show that their relationship has not improved since they met a few months prior, even after spending every day together; if anything, it has gotten worse and more openly hostile. They judge one another’s reasons for being champions for Earthrealm and still do not respect one another.

Chapter 4: More Fighting & Kenshi’s Blinding

We play as Kenshi for the duration of this chapter. The two of them, alongside Kung Lao, are tasked with finding Shang Tsung for Liu Kang to question. Kenshi openly questions Johnny's inclusion on the mission and openly states that he would prefer Raiden to go along with them instead of “this one,” making it known that he does not value Johnny as a fighter or a teammate. Johnny protests and insists that he’s up to the job of finding Shang Tsung. Before they depart, they glare at one another once more.

When out in the Outworld desert, Kenshi and Johnny begin to bicker once more. Johnny brings up the 3 million dollars needed to buy Sento and tells Kenshi that he would likely have Sento back in his possession if he were still with the Yakuza. Kenshi turns around quickly to yell at Johnny about the corruption that the Yakuza spreads and his desire to get his clan out, all while shining his flashlight on Johnny’s face.

After meeting Baraka and ending up in Shang Tsung’s laboratory, the three of them ambush Rain, Tanya, and Shang Tsung in an effort to save Mileena from what they believe is a Tarkat infection. Johnny makes the “get away from her, you bitch” reference that it feels like everyone has seen, much to Kenshi and Lao’s visible confusion.

Kenshi defeats both Tanya and Rain in battle, and he briefly speaks to Mileena before her illness makes itself known. It is here that Kenshi does something he’s not done all of the story: he calls Johnny by his first name instead of just “Cage.” He asks for a hand in fighting Mileena, and Johnny hurries over to help. Johnny asks about a plan, and Kenshi states that the only real plan is to not hurt her. Johnny is visibly shocked and says that he’s more worried about “us” getting hurt than Mileena.

They fight Mileena, and Kenshi and Johnny win. Kenshi asks Johnny and Lao (again calling Johnny by his first name) to hold Mileena down so Shang Tsung can administer the serum needed to subdue her Tarkat symptoms. They do so briefly, and she eventually knocks Lao away and goes to bite Johnny’s face. Instead, Kenshi comes from behind, grabs Mileena by the straps of her outfit on her shoulders, and pulls her away, saving the life of someone that until just minutes before, he has been shown to hate.

Then Mileena shoves Kenshi away just long enough to grab a pair of sai from a nearby table and gouge Kenshi’s eyes out. His blood sprays, and Johnny is hit in the face with the splatter. In the horror of the aftermath, he yells Kenshi’s first name for the first time, nothing short of terrified and worried. The chapter ends soon after this.

This chapter is the official shift in their relationship. This chapter is when both characters finally refer to one another by their first names, though it is all we see of any sort of genuine appreciation of one another. Kenshi calls Johnny by his name in the midst of immediate danger; he needs Johnny’s help, and he’s visibly frightened in the scene itself. Johnny calls Kenshi by his name in the aftermath of the danger, when he just saw someone that he’s known for months lose his eyes in the most vicious way possible (and gets hit with his blood in the process). The shift is not seen until later chapters, but Kenshi going blind while saving Johnny’s life is the catalyst for the change.

Chapters 5 & 6: New Bonds

In Shang Tsung’s laboratory, the first thing Johnny does when he wakes up is check on Kenshi. He says his first name again, asks him about his pain, and states that he will not forget that Kenshi saved his life for the price of his eyes.

Johnny himself is the one to give Kenshi his blindfold, torn from his own armor and placed over Kenshi’s eyes with his own hands. He is the one to give him the medicine and relieve him of some of the discomfort from his blinding in his own way. Johnny is the one who adds to Kenshi’s iconic character design; it’s forever associated with him and his kindness.

When they’re finally able to escape the laboratory, Kenshi asks Johnny and Lao to leave him behind. Johnny refuses and wants to save Kenshi’s life. Kenshi tells Johnny that he is “useless” and that their lives do not need to be risked to save him. (He once again calls Johnny by his last name here, instead of calling him “Johnny” like he did hours before.) Johnny insists that the Taira needs him, and they’re going to get him back home and get him help.

They walk through the Living Forest together near the back of the group; Johnny is the one who guides Kenshi around. Johnny continues to look back at Kenshi as they’re walking around to make sure he does not trip or stumble. He makes a remark about a movie he did that Kenshi reveals that he has seen before. Johnny comments on how difficult the scene was to shoot, but he is proud of the outcome. Kenshi says that he can “picture it exactly” and smiles for the first time since his blinding, a strong contrast to his earlier depressed state.

They continue until they meet Ashrah and debate whether or not to hunt Quan Chi. When Kenshi steps forward to go, Johnny firmly tells him no, citing that they need to get him home. He’s visibly annoyed and perhaps even frustrated when Kenshi insists that they need to find Quan Chi to find Shang Tsung. In the end, Johnny is the only one opposed to continuing their mission.

The penultimate moment of their development is the scene at the end of the chapter in which Sento is returned to Kenshi. Kenshi tries to fight Quan Chi, and Johnny is quick to tell him no, stating that Kenshi will trip up the others. He then asks Kenshi for his sword, and Kenshi hesitantly agrees. Johnny does what was previously established as impossible and gives Sento back to Kenshi. Kenshi is stunned, and then he tries to reject Sento. The one thing he has wanted for all this time, the singular reason that he hates Johnny in the first place, he tries to reject it. Johnny insists that it’s Kenshi’s now because he saved Johnny’s life. “It’s yours,” he says, and he means it.

Chapter 6 largely focuses on the fight between the group and Quan Chi, but it’s the chapter in which Kenshi’s sight is “restored” with the help of his ancestors. After a fight with Ermac, Sento is imbued with the souls of Kenshi’s ancestors, who promise to help him. He is then able to sense his surroundings in a new form of sight, allowing him to fight as he did before. He also discovers his telekinesis soon after.

Johnny and Kenshi have a brief exchange about Sento after this. Johnny jokes that he severely underpaid for Sento when he bought it and asks if Kenshi knew what it could do, which he did not. Johnny tells Kenshi not to forget who gave him the sword; Kenshi promises that he will not. They go back to calling one another by their last names, but instead of earlier in the story, when they were distant from one another and not friends, the use of last names here almost feels…kinder. Maybe even affectionate? Like calling a friend by their last name instead of someone that you dislike.

These chapters are what solidify their bond. It starts with Johnny’s worry and concern over Kenshi’s well-being and safety, something that continues through the rest of the chapter. He checks on him in the dungeon, he is the one to give Kenshi medicine when he knows he’s in pain, and he motivates Kenshi to continue living when they leave the dungeon (and makes it known that he will help him however he can once they get him home). He makes it known that he’s willing to give up on Liu Kang’s mission, something that could potentially save Earthrealm, for Kenshi to be safe after losing his eyes. It’s one of the first things that Johnny clearly takes seriously. Until this point, he makes jokes about almost everything, but when it comes to Kenshi going home, he’s all serious and makes his opinion on the matter known.

Their conflict regarding Sento is also resolved here. Just hours before this chapter, Johnny brings up the 3 million dollars he paid for it and his unwillingness to part with Sento unless Kenshi gives him the money. However, after Kenshi saves his life, Johnny gives it to him to potentially repay a debt. Kenshi essentially traded his eyes for Johnny’s life, and Johnny recognizes the importance of such a sacrifice. To him, giving him Sento is likely only the beginning of what he does to repay him for what he did.

Their value in Sento differs greatly. Kenshi wants Sento because of the value it has to his family and their well-being. While Johnny seems to appreciate Sento’s history, the sword is still something with monetary value and something that helps Johnny “project” a celebrity image to fans. He is his possessions; he is what he spends money on. But Kenshi’s blinding makes him realize, in the worst way possible, that some things are more important than money.

These chapters (4, 5, and 6) also show Johnny and Kenshi saving one another’s lives. Kenshi physically saves Johnny from Mileena in the laboratory by pulling her off of him before she can bite his face off. Johnny emotionally saves Kenshi when he’s at a low point following his blinding; he is the one to motivate Kenshi when he calls himself useless and asks the others to leave him behind, even if it means certain death. Johnny also helps save the Taira clan by willingly giving up Sento, something that he knows means a great deal to Kenshi and the rest of his family.

Chapter 15: A New Arc in Their Lives

The pair make a lengthy absence until the later chapters of the game, and they are not seen together again until the final scene of the final chapter when they are eating at Madam Bo’s restaurant. They’re sitting together on the same side of the table while Johnny talks about the location of his movie. He turns to Kenshi with a smirk when he laughs, and Kenshi assumes that Johnny will be the star of his franchise, as he always seems to be.

Johnny then asks Kenshi to be in a movie, stating that no actor can do things quite like Kenshi. Kenshi openly admits that he would love to, but his work with the Taira keeps him busy. (However, we see in Johnny’s ending that he still involves himself in the movie-making process.)

Liu Kang moves to leave for Outworld, and Johnny stops him to thank him for bringing them on as Earthrealm’s champions. He quickly glances at Kenshi before stating that joining him has truly changed the arcs of their lives, just like Liu Kang said it would.

This final scene with them is just the beginning of those new arcs. Compared to their first meeting, Johnny and Kenshi have found a new respect for one another and a bond forged in a shared adventure and what looks like conflicting goals. By this chapter, they have undergone an entire arc of their own, and their lives are changed by one another as a result.

Their new arc is only beginning.

#johnshi #kenshi takahashi #johnny cage #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 1 #mine #videos #i tried to keep this shipping neutral bc ultimately not everyone ships them but i think their dynamic is still incredibly interesting #and the development of that relationship is still important #and one of the best in the series imo and definitely the best in this game

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lightvixxen · 8 months ago

Text

A shy boy with a dom side

SOOO i have no excuse. this may be a little series, we'll see how this does.

Warnings: SMUT its nothing extreme so I don't feel there's any warnings. AFAB reader tho, + dom!spencer!! MDNI

wc:1k-ish

summary: a Friday night taking a turn.

It was a Friday night, and you and Spencer had a few glasses of wine. And Now sat on your couch. You don’t remember how the conversation got to this point.

“Whats…” You stop to think, swirling the glass in your hands before speaking again. “your biggest kink?” Spencer looks at you, then looks off to the side, obviously thinking about the question.

“I’m not sure…bondage most likely,” Spencer tells you, shrugging before taking a sip of his wine. “But choking and, uh, slapping is up there too.” His face was red, and whether it was from the conversation or wine you couldn’t tell.

“Huh, I was expecting you to say something a little more Vanilla honestly,” you say, setting your wine glass down on the coffee table in front of you. “Isn’t the bondage a little cliche though? I mean guy with handcuffs likes using them, the biggest stereotype in the book.”

“Oh, I um.” He clears his throat, “I wasn’t talking about…handcuffs, I was talking about actual rope.” That made you raise your eyebrows.

“So….are you the one being tied up or are you doing the tying.” You ask, your curiosity was officially peaked, you honestly had thought Spencer was going to say something like praise being his biggest kink.

“Well considering I am a dominant, I do the tying up. I much prefer it anyway. It gives me a level of control they no longer have.” He said it so softly you almost missed it. “Anyway, back to you, what's your biggest…fantasy?” He asks, obviously trying to turn the attention away from himself.

“Fantasy? Not kink?” You ask, a little stunned.

“That's what I said.”

“Well, it starts just like this…Though the person varies…” You start, trying to form this specific fantasy into words. Spencer nods along, watching how your face slowly turns red, and how you avoid eye contact.

“And well they get up, maybe circle me for a second while we talk, of course, I’m oblivious to it. They slowly make their way behind me, and wrap their hand around my throat…and hands slowly wander…”

You didn’t even notice he had gotten up. Before you feel the couch dip behind you and his breath on your neck. Spencer's hand slowly wraps around your throat, giving you enough time to stop him.

“Like this?” his voice was low, it caused the hair on your neck to stand. You were almost frozen.

“Do I have your permission to… continue?” You nod slowly, not trusting your voice at the moment. “Words sweetheart.” He demands, “I need verbal consent.”

“Yes, you can continue.” You almost gasped when the hand not around your throat connected with your breast. His fingers expertly play with your hardening nipples through your tank top.

“Good girl. Now, what else happens in this little fantasy of yours? Hm?” he asks, the grip he has on your throat expertly tightens, this isn’t the first time he’s done this.

“T-they play with my breasts for a little…while also kissing down my shoulders and- oh my god.” A small moan leaves you, everything you describe Spencer does. His mouth is warm against your neck, unexpectedly he sucks a mark into your neck.

“Keep going.” He tells you.

“And then after a while their hands move down…” Again, he complies, his hand on your breasts moving downwards, messing with the elastic of your shorts. “They usually rub…me through my panties but-” before you could get another word out, Spencer's hand delved into your shorts.

“No panties? Surprising…knew a man was coming over and yet you go commando? Planning to flash me, my dear?”

“N-no I just didn’t feel like it today.” your breath was shaky already.

“Alright…Sorry sweetheart but since you can’t stick to your narrative we’re doing this my way. Okay?” he asks, his hand on your throat grabbing your chin, forcing you to look at him.

You nod, luckily this time he didn’t need you to verbalize what you needed. Spencer's hands made direct contact with your clit. His fingers slowly traced circles against it. You gasp, your hips automatically bucking against his hand.

“You this wet already? I’ve barely done anything…” you could hear the smirk in his voice, one of his fingers slowly tracing around your wet hole, before it sinks into you. A sinful squelch sound can be heard.

Spencer sets a fast pace, he quickly finds that spongey spot inside you, and with terrifying precision targets it. He quickly brings you to the edge, your moans grow louder as each second passes.

“Fuck-I’m close Spence-” you moan, grabbing his arm, you have no intention of stopping him, but it just feels too good.

“You got it, cum for me, sweet girl.” He tells you, keeping the pace of his fingers.

“Choke me again please!” you beg, Spencer chuckles but complies, his other hand tightening against your throat once again. With one squeeze you were coming undone.

“Shit, shit I’m cumming.” you moan, your walls clenching around his fingers. Your legs clamp shut around his hand, he smiles behind you. His fingers continue to work against you until you wince in overstimulation.

Your legs relax, spreading to let him retrieve his hand from the apex of your thighs. Spencer brings his hand up to his mouth, licking off his fingers.

“For a germaphobe, you’re quite gross” You pant, head lolling back to look at the man behind you. He chuckles, walking into your kitchen to retrieve a damp cloth.

“And for a profiler, you're not very observant.” He shoots back, walking towards your front, he kneels, gently removing your shorts to clean your thighs.

“Well-” you’re retort was cut short when Spencer licked a stripe up your cunt, swirling his tongue around your already sensitive clit.

“Careful how you talk to me. I have no restraints about fucking you over this couch.” He tells you, blowing against your clit before finally cleaning up your thighs.

“Why not just do it now?” you ask, curious as to why he’s decided to stop here.

“I don’t have any condoms, But I won’t hesitate to take you here and now if you even think a bratty retort.” He tells you simply.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #smut #lightvixxens spencer

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darlingbabyboo · 1 year ago

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Can you make a part 2 to the tr x bimbo girlfriend with maybe izana mikey and kazutora if you dont write for them or dont want to its okay have a good day/night<3

I hope you also have a good dabunnyight ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა Part 1 (Draken, Takemichi, Mitsuya, Baji, Smiley, Mucho) Part 3 (Hanma, Chifuyu, Angry, Ran, Hakkai, Inui)

"Honey, you're my slut!"

♡ More Tokyo Revengers Characters and their bimbo girlfriends ♡

Kazutora Hanemiya

He loves you so much!

Your cute little aesthetic

Your adorable mannerisms

Just everything about you is just so amazing he can't control how much he feels for you

Though that's also the problem...

He just really doesn't get why you're with someone like him

You're just so amazing and he has a lot of insecurities and baggage and you're this pure beacon of light

How could you be with someone like him?

But you make sure to erase any and every negative thought he has

He won't deny that he loves the pampering

"What's that?" Is the question that's he's been asking all afternoon, but it can't be helped, he's just pretty clueless when it comes to the makeup world. He's eager to learn though, especially when you're the one teaching him.

You're focused on your craft, for once, the smarter one in a situation. "It's just mascara, supposed to really make your eyes pop-not that you need it, honestly." You cup his cheek with your hand. "Every part of you is just so beautiful!"

He squirms at your unfiltered praise. "That's not true. I-" You give him a deep kiss, stopping him from spewing any self-hatred.

He knows your lipstick will stain against his lips and he finds that he enjoys the thought of that, being marked by you. He relaxes into the kiss, you make him feel worthy of love.

Manjiro Sano (Bonten Mikey)

Mikey's life is practically defined by how much he's lost

His entire life is filled with grieving for the people that have left him or have passed away

His heart has hardened, and he cares for very little in his life

And you're one of the rare few

Mikey enjoys being with you so much because you just love him unconditionally

He doesn't have to pretend to be someone else or put on a light facade

He can talk about some really dark stuff and you won't be scared of it, no matter how much you probably should be

He also just likes how airy you can be

He finds it endearing, and even if the things you say can be a bit stupid, he always gets a good laugh out of it

You're just his special girl ᰔ☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*ᰔ

And god forbid anyone talk about your outfit

He'll destroy them

He always got his girls back

It's one of the few days of relaxation that Mikey gets and he's decided to spend it with you, just cuddled together at home. Due to the nature of his job, you two don't spend a lot of time together, but he cherishes the moments you do get. Right now you're on his lap, perfectly manicured hands typing away at your phone.

"Baby, I want this." He focuses on what you've added to your cart and finds a necklace similar to his tattoo. His lips curl into a smile.

"For me?" You nod your head eagerly and wrap your arms around his neck.

"So when you're off doing all your work, we're still connected."

You look at him with so much love in your eyes, like the 'work' you're brushing off is simply an office job and not committing multiple crimes. He doesn't know what he's done to deserve it, but he knows that you're one of the few good things left in his life. He presses his lips against yours, he's never letting you go.

Izana Kurokawa

He loves you so much okay

Like, his heart is overfilling with how much love he has for you

You're perfect in his eyes

It's amazing how he could be blessed with someone like you

He thinks that you're one of the best things that has ever happened in his life

And for the person that he views as an angel, he doesn't want the rotten world corrupting you

He knows how bad the world can get (first hand experience is a bitch) and he doesn't want that for you

He has a smile on his face for every one of the silly things you say

He throws money at you like it's nothing

Is your biggest hypeman

Only wants the best for his queen ❤

"Pretty I was looking for you!" He hears the click clacking of your heels before he sees you. Instinctively, he opens his arms so that you can catapult inside of them. As you bury your nose in his neck, he restrains the urge to laugh at your pet name. Him, pretty. No one else would dare call the leader of Tenjiku that. But you're... different.

"How was your day princess" Brushing his thumb against your cheek.

"It was fine, but," you jut out your bottom lip, "I really missed you-why haven't I seen you all day! "

"You don't remember? " You furrow your brows at the comment, as you try to recall what he's talking about.

He laughs, a light laugh that doesn't fit what he's saying. "You told me some guys were talking shit about your gorgeous outfit, I dealt with them."

You pull away from him and see that his fists are dripping with blood. You gasp, and he wonders if you're mad at him. If, finally, you're going to leave him like everyone else. But, you've seen his darker side before, surely you won't leave him for something like this.

Proving him right, you clasp your hands around one of his and start to gently kiss each knuckle. "Thank you pretty, you shouldn't have." Your kisses leave behind some lipstick residue but Izana doesn't mind, he watches you in complete awe. He brings up his other hand and cups the side of your face gently. "Anything for you, my queen."

#tokyo revengers fluff #tokyo revengers scenarios #tokyo revengers headcanons #tokyo revengers x reader #kazutora x reader #kazutora fluff #mikey x reader #manjiro x reader #manjiro fluff #mikey fluff #izana x reader #izana fluff #accidentally made myself fall for Izana #tokyo revengers imagines

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