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writeyouin · 4 months

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Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Fem-Reader - Sinless Sinners

Chapter 1 - Hate For All Sinners

A/N – I couldn’t stop thinking about this short King after episode 5 of Hazbin Hotel came out. This is mostly a fic for me, to get me back into writing. (WILL DO A MALE AND NONBINARY ONE SOON!)

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

MALE VERSION HERE

NON-BINARY / GN VERSION HERE

“Who’s that?” Lucifer asked, pointing you out to Charlie.

In truth, he would’ve likely asked that of the next person he saw. As Charlie’s father, Lucifer was trying desperately to show how interested he was in his daughter’s project, even if he was barely holding onto anything she said. It wasn’t that he was disinterested, or too ignorant to understand the situation, but rather that after spending so much time as a recluse, locked away in the protective space of his workshop where he wouldn’t have to see the sinners or the Hell he was responsible for creating, Lucifer could barely comprehend what was going on around him. He knew it was because he was depressed, but he was trying and he had to make Charlie see that, even if it meant feigning fits of hypomanic excitement.

Yet, Lucifer found himself genuinely… horrified by you. He had seen many types of Demon over the millennia. Typically, they tended to represent Earth’s animals, such as that annoyingly powerful Deer Demon, Alistair, whom Lucifer had met thanks to this very tour… not that Alistair was worth mentioning, piece of shit that he was, mingling with Lucifer’s daughter when he had no right to even breathe the same air as her-

Lucifer caught his snowballing thoughts, turning them back to you. You weren’t an animal Demon. There were other types of Demons of course, though Flora and Fauna were the most common; object Demons also existed, such as that rather famous one that people talked about, the TV Demon, V-something? Lucifer couldn’t remember his name. He didn’t watch Television… he didn’t do much of anything these days.

“Oh,” Charlie sidled over to you, wrapping her arm warmly around your shoulder as she corralled you towards her father, “Dad, this is (Y/N). She’s one of the hotel’s, uh, allies I guess, right (Y/N)?”

“That’s right, Sir,” You held out your hand for Lucifer, who was staring dumbly at you, uncertain what to make of you.

As the ruler of Hell, fuelled by angelic power, Lucifer could always read a Demon, or rather, he could read their strength. For example, he knew after only one meeting that the bartender, Husk was a strong Demon, though his power was clearly being dampened by a soul contract, whereas that little snake fellow Sir Pentious was rather weak, though he had potential if he could manage to claim even a few souls of his own, but you? You were entirely different.

First off, you didn’t resemble an animal, plant, or object… You were the most human-looking Demon that Lucifer had ever seen; frankly, he found that disturbing. Secondly, you didn’t seem to have much if any power. What was wrong with you? To come off as human with little demonic power… Well, if Lucifer didn’t know any better, he would guess that you weren’t a sinner at all, but you had to be. You were definitely dead; that much he could tell. And, you were in Hell.

Dead and in Hell - those were the only two qualifications for becoming a Demon, so why were you like this?

“Dad, are you listening?” Charlie said exasperatedly, clearly annoyed that Lucifer’s thoughts seemed to have trailed off once again.

“Oh, yes, of course,” Lucifer stated, staring at your hand which you had seemingly retracted when he wasn’t paying attention. Damnation! Now Charlie was going to think he had snubbed her friend on purpose.

“So, (Y/N) is another one of your patrons. That’s nice.”

“What? No. Dad, I just told you, (Y/N) has no interest in being redeemed.”

“Oh,” Lucifer looked you up and down disapprovingly. It figured. Even this non-Demon was looking for power in Hell, probably so you would finally be a killer worth bragging about – Honestly, what was the point? All sinners were the same. Greedy, destructive forces who wouldn’t stop until there was nothing left to break.

“Yep, she’s our only permanent resident who wants to help rehabilitate other souls. Isn’t that great? She helps with everything here, and she doesn’t ask for anything in return.”

“That’s not true,” You blushed at Charlie’s praise. “Your daughter is very generous, Sir. She lets me stay here rent-free.”

“And that’s all you want?” Lucifer asked suspiciously.

“Honestly? Yeah.”

Lucifer shook his head but didn’t argue. He didn’t want to know what your real motivations were. It was probably as simple as hoping for regular boons from the Princess of Hell; you were clearly just biding your time. Besides, if you didn’t want to redeem your soul, then you must be just like Alistair, a sadistic monster just waiting to see Demons repeatedly fail in their attempts at redemption.

Now that his curiosity was sated, Lucifer decided that he didn’t want to lay eyes on you again. You weren’t worth his time. Only Charlie was… Well, Charlie and Vaggie, because any woman his daughter loved was practically family to him. He was glad when the tour continued, leaving you behind to catch Nifty who was trying to pull a piece of fabric from Lucifer’s coat, muttering something about the ‘Ultimate bad boy.’

“Okay, I can get you the meeting,” Lucifer agreed, doing what he could to support Charlie’s dreams of saving her people, even though he didn’t think there were any redeeming qualities for any denizen of Hell.

It hurt him to tell Charlie that he wouldn’t be able to go with her to that lofty paradise, having been cast out; how he wished he could protect his daughter from those who carried out God’s will. Still, she never asked him for anything, and if this was what her heart most desired, he would do all in his power to help.

“Will you be okay?” He asked sombrely.

“I’ll be fine,” Charlie assured him, taking hold of his hands.

“That’s my girl.”

For a moment, it looked like Lucifer was done, but he paused, worried that this wasn’t enough to make up for the years he had been absent, leaving Charlie to fend for herself while he shut himself away.

“Is there anything else you need?”

Charlie couldn’t help but worry about her father. What would happen when he went back into isolation? He needed something to focus on, but… What was there for him when all of Hell was his prison?

She couldn’t help thinking about how little Lucifer thought of all the other citizens of Hell. If only he could see that they weren’t as terrible as he thought. Granted, they could be violent, and loud, definitely rambunctious, but these were his people, and he had to see that his gift of Free Will was a good thing, yet, if she said any of this, she was certain Lucifer would only laugh at her or tell her to get real while playfully pinching her cheek. There was no way that Lucifer would leave his home to hang out with any citizen of Hell.

Then it hit her. If Lucifer wouldn’t leave his manor to visit people, then people should be allowed to visit his manor. Or better yet, one person should be chosen to go and live with Lucifer so that he would learn just how good people could be, and Charlie knew just the person for the job.

“Actually, Dad, there is one more thing.”

“Name it,” Lucifer smiled, glad that his daughter wanted to ask things of him, as any normal child should want from their parents.

“I think it would be good for you to socialise, just a little bit.”

“Charlie,” Lucifer’s voice was strained at the thought of going anywhere else in Hell.

“I know,” Charlie reassured him, looking into his eyes; she looked so understanding that he relaxed slightly. Then, she continued in a more upbeat tone, “That’s why I think you should take (Y/N) to live with you, as your maid!”

She pounded her palm decidedly, much like a judge pounding her gavel.

“What? NO!” Lucifer sputtered.

You for your part, had seemingly been shocked into silence, watching the exchange uncertainly while Alistair grinned devilishly at you, and Angel Dust was holding in a snicker. Granted, you could have argued, but Charlie was stubborn, and she always had some kind of wild idea. Whatever she was thinking, you decided that you would go along with it; there was usually a method to her madness after all.

“It’s fine, Dad, (Y/N) doesn’t mind, right (Y/N)?”

You shrugged your shoulders passively, “I guess?”

“See? You should get to know your citizens, Dad. It will be good for you, I promise. They’re not all as bad as you think.”

Lucifer took one hard look at you. Honestly, he wished his daughter had picked the porn star or that psycho maid. You, as a very human-looking Demon, were a vicious reminder of his past mistakes. Still, he had told his daughter he would do anything for her, and he had already promised her a meeting with Heaven, and nothing could possibly be worse than that.

“Alright,” He agreed.

Then, he summoned a portal for you with the flick of his wrist.

“Good luck, kiddo.” He said to Charlie, and upon keeping a safe distance from you, he waited for you to step through the portal.

“Charlie, I’m assuming that you have a good reason for this,” You said before taking a step towards your newly appointed home, “Just call me if you need anything.”

With that, you were gone, followed closely (though not too closely) by Lucifer.

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bigfatbimbo · 3 months

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How does Vox angst sound? Something where the reader has to take care of an injured Vox?

I’m a Bad Liar with a Savior Complex —

1.5k words,, Vox x reader

summary — After a bad fight with Valentino, Vox seeks comfort in his bootycall, you.

warnings — Toxic relationships, abuse, manipulation, Vox being a dick, Valentino is his own warning, hurt/comfort

a/n — I think I went way too ham on this one. The request was “Vox angst” not a poorly written shakespeare play.

You weren’t expecting anyone that night, let alone your self proclaimed bootycall, Vox. The knock at your door was surprising on its own, but your amazement only grew when you opened it.

“Are you going to let me in—ozzz—or are you just going to st—aa—are?” He spoke through gritted teeth and with effort.

“Vox,” you place your hand on his shoulder and usher him in, “what the hell happened to you?”

Already familiar with your apartment, he flips down on the couch almost immediately and leans in head back.

Under the dim lighting of your one singular lamp, you take him in; screen cracked at the right corner, shirt disheveled, and from what you could see in his face, eyes tired and sunken.

“Oh not much—chh—“ He sighed, glitching slightly, “—just a peachy day in the park.”

You didn’t know what to do. Vox was no picnic, unfortunately, you knew that better than most. But you vaguely wonder what could have provoked this?

Vox was a smooth talker, he usually didn’t fail to charm people and kiss ass to get what he wanted. You doubt Alastor had time to cause that kind of damage these days, not to mention the interest.

So the one culprit for the mess that sat in front of you had to be… oh.

“Jesus. How’d you piss him off this time?” You genuinely ask, coming over to accompany Vox on the couch.

“Well—bzz— he’s always pissed about something. Today’s tantrum had nothing to do with the likes of—mhh—me,” Vox sighed deeply and winced as he sat up.

“Why, do you like the new look?” Coming from anyone else, the comment would have been an attempt to lighten the mood. However, Vox only meant to condescend the baffled look in your eyes.

‘Why are you just sitting there? Help me,’ his eyes, well, what’s left of his eyes said.

You sigh and get up, stopping to stare down at him one last time, “So, what do we need to fix this?”

He contemplated for a moment, “Well, I got the hell out of dodge before I had the chance to grab a spare—szc—screen so—“ he pointed to the area around his face, “anything to stop my fucking face from chipping off would be great.”

“So, like what? Fucking ducktape?” your attempt at a joke fell flat when the expression on his face didn’t move.

He simply grimaced.

You frown and look longingly towards your kitchen, “I’ll see what I have.”

You end up settling for ducktape after all. A purely comical solution to what can only be described as a miserable situation.

You patched him up gently, your hand resting on the bottom of his screen and covering the chipped part, as delicately as possible, with ducktape.

“You know, it would be kind of funny. The ducktape, I mean,” you try to smile, “…but it’s not funny.”

For once in his entire existence, it seemed Vox had nothing to say. No smart-ass remarks or egotistical words fell from his mouth. Only quiet silence as he breathed shakily in and out.

You couldn’t help but analyze his actions in your head. He must be getting sick of it, being treated like garbage by Val, by Alastor, by everyone who should respect him.

Except Vox’s empire, his power, any of it couldn’t help in this regard. Valentino was apart of his life in hell, and quietly it was dawning on Vox that even he couldn’t talk his way out of this.

Not entirely anyway. They needed eachother in some sick sense. Vox knew this, and now it seemed so did you.

Your heart ached for the man. In all of his terrible ways he seemed to be finding that cruelty was a double sided sword. Except this time, he got stabbed straight through.

You finished patching him up in silence, before leaning down and placing a kiss on the top, undamaged side of screen.

Your thumb caressed the area of his cheek softly. He shut his eyes and leaned into the gentle touch, frowning deeply.

You sit down next to him once again. “You’re staying with me tonight, okay?”

He nodded weakly, partly because he didn’t want to upset his head injury. But also partially to show you how vulnerable he felt at the moment. Although an upsettingly subtle que, he gazed up at you in hopes you would just take care of him without him having to ask.

Thankfully you catch on. You guide him up from the couch and rub his back gently while leading him to the bedroom and sitting him down.

“I have some t-shirts and sweatpants in the closet. I’m gonna go get you some water,” you say, soothingly rubbing his back before leaving.

When you come back, he already changed into comfier clothing and set his work clothes on a chair near your bed, in order to not wrinkle them.

He lays curled up on the bed with his eyes open, looking as if he was about to cry. You cringe at the thought. You’d been awkward enough tonight, Vox crying did not need to add to that.

You come over to him with the iced cold cup, sit him up right, and place it in his hands.

“Drink,” you command. He does, without hesitation. Jesus, you think, Vox taking orders. Thats new.

After downing the whole glass in one large swig, he sets it on the bed side table.

“He threw a f—fff—ucking wine bottle at me,” Vox said glumly.

You were just happy he was talking again. You cuddle up close to him on the bed, taking him under your arm, trying not to mind the less than ideal way the corner of Vox’s screen poked into your jaw. Oh well, Vox seemed comfortable enough.

He curled closer to you, sinking into your side and shutting his eyes, but not with the intention of falling asleep.

“I’m sorry. He’s such a douchebag,” And what? Vox isn’t? Your inability to comfort him was weighing unbareabley on your mind. Do better.

“But you’re safe now, sweetheart,” you pull him closer to you under the blankets, “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Vox hummed, the sides of his mouth flickering down as the lump in his throat grew tighter.

You kept going, “You handled it so well. You get to relax now, okay? Nothing bad’s gonna happen under my watch.”

It was stupid, Vox thought. He was an overlord, a powerful one at that. Protection was below him. But so was getting fucked up by his angry boyfriend and running off to his side pieces apartment, so who knows?

In hindsight, it was his fault. He was sloppy in his ways of manipulation tonight and Val had caught onto him. Well, in a figurative and literal sense, he supposed.

Oh, how the powerful fall at the feet of those closest to them. Serves him right.

He knows you aren’t stupid. You knew what he said earlier about how Val’s ‘tantrum had nothing to do with the likes of him’ was a lie.

And yet, here you were helping him. Vox couldn’t wrap his head around it. Just as he couldn’t understand why you continued spewing such comforting words.

Words that, if you asked anyone else, he didn’t deserve. He stopped himself from dwelling on it when he felt the tears brew in the corner of his eyes.

“I’m proud of you, Vox,” you speak softly.

He burrows his screen in your chest. “No, you’re not,” he whispers, grasping onto your shirt softly, “And I thought I was the—spzz— the liar.”

“I’m not lying. It takes a lot to survive that crazy ass moth. Let alone, everyday. I am proud of you,” you plant a kiss on the top of his head.

That was the breaking point. Vox tried to justify his tears in his mind; It’s not like he hadn’t already been embarrassingly vulnerable tonight, anyways. Could it get much worse?

For you, maybe. As the waterworks flowed, you shushed him softly and rubbed his back. Honestly, you were a little worried about the tears fucking up his system, because of all the cracks in his head.

Thankfully, you didn’t notice any changes, basic bodily function-wise.

You found Vox’s outburst of tears specifically alarming. He muttered little apologies throughout. However, it seemed less and less about the tears themselves.

He clung to you and his the remains of his face in your shirt, hoping you wouldn’t get pissed off at the wetness around your collar.

You let him cry, and shush him with small gentle words of praise. He looks up at you, screen slick and shiny. You lean down to give him a watery, but gentle kiss.

The sad part, you think to yourself, is that you know exactly what’s going to happen tomorrow.

Things will go back to normal, Vox’s walls will come back up as if this never happened, and he’ll continue seeing Valentino. He’ll act as if he never confided in you, and once again, you two will only be an occasional good-fuck.

There was no lesson in any of this. Almost as if the whole experience was completely futile. Nothing would change, and Vox and Val would continue in their toxic, horny, power struggle. Vox using Val to his advantage, Val getting pissed off and fucking him up.

What did you expect? Well, you’d just about accepted this fact when Vox, half asleep, all cried out, and sleepily drooling on your shirt, muttered three small words.

“I love you.”

a/n — link to part two is here

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel vox #vox x you #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox

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wombywoo · 7 months

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Ok! I've finally decided to put together a (somewhat) comprehensive tutorial on my latest art~

Please enjoy this little step-by-step 💁‍♀️

First things first--references!

Now I'm not saying you have to go overboard, but I always find that this is a crucial starting point in any art piece I intend on making. Especially if you're a detail freak like me and want to make it as realistic as possible 🙃

As such, your web browser should look like this at any given point:

Since this is a historical piece, it means hours upon hours of meaningless research just to see what color the socks are, but...again. that isn't, strictly, necessary 😅

Once I've compiled all my lovely ref pics, I usually dump them into a big-ass collage ⬇️

(I will end up not using half of these, alas :'D)

Another reference search for background material, and getting to showcase our models of choice for this occasion~

When picking a reference for an actor or model, the main thing I keep in mind (besides prettiness 🤭) is lighting and orientation. Because I already kinda know what pose I'm gonna go with for this piece, I can look for specific angles that might fit the criteria. I should mention that I am a reference hound, and my current COD actor ref folder looks like this:

Also keep in mind, if you're using a ref that you need to flip, make sure you adjust accordingly. This especially applies to clothing, as certain things like pants zippers and belt buckles can be quite specific ☝️

Now that we've spent countless hours googling, it's time to start with a rough sketch:

It doesn't have to be pretty, folks, just a basic guideline of where you want the figures to be.

The next step is to define it more, and I know this looks like that 'how to draw an owl' meme, but I promise--getting from the loose sketch above to below is not that difficult.

Things to keep in mind are--don't go too in-depth with the details, because things are still subject to change at this point. In terms of making a suitable anatomically-correct sketch, I would suggest lots of studying. This doesn't even have to be things like figure drawing, I genuinely look at people around me for inspiration all the time. Familiarize yourself with the human form, and things like weight, proportions, posing will seem a little more feasible.

It's also important at this stage to consider your composition. Remember to flip the canvas frequently to make sure you're not leaning to one side too often. I'm sure something can be said for the spiral fibonacci stuff, which I don't really try to do on purpose, but I think keeping things like symmetry and balance in mind is a good start ✌️

Next step is just blocking in the figures. Standard. No fuss 👍

Now onto the background!

It's frankly hilarious how many people thought I was *hand-drawing* these maps and stuff 😂😂 I cannot even begin to comprehend how insanely difficult that would be. So yeah, we're just taking the lazy copy and paste way out 🤙

I almost always prepare my backgrounds first, and this is mostly to get a general color scheme off the bat. For collage work, it's really just a matter of trial and error, sticking this here, slapping this there, etc. I like to futz around with different overlay options until I've found a nice arrangement. Advice for this is just--go nuts 🤷‍♀️

Next, I add a few color adjustments. I tend to make at least 2 colors pop in an art piece, and low and behold, they usually tend to be red and blue ❤️💙There's something about warm/cool vibes, idk man..

Now we move on to coloring the figures. This is just a basic block and fill, not really defining any of the details yet.

Next, we add some cursory values. Sloppy airbrush works fine, it'll look better soon I promise 🙏

And now--rendering!

I know a lot of beginner artists are intimidated by rendering, and I can totally understand why. It's just one of those things you have to commit to 💪

I've decided to show a brief process of rendering our dear Johnny's face here:

Starting off, I usually rely on the trusty airbrush just to get some color values going. Note--I've kept my sketch layer on top, but feel free to turn it on and off as you work, so as to not be too bound to the sketch. For now, it's just a guideline.

This next stage may look like a huge jump, but it's really just adding more to the foundation. I try to think of it like putting on make-up in a way~ Adding contours, accentuating highlights. This is also where I start adding in more saturation, especially around areas such as ears, nose and lips. Still a bit fuzzy at this point, but that's why we keep adding to it 💪

A boy has appeared! See--now I've removed most of the line layer, and it holds up on its own. I'll admit that in order to achieve this realistic style, you'll need lots and lots of practice and skill, which shouldn't be discouraging! Just motivate yourself with the prospect of getting to look at pretty men for countless hours 🙆‍♀️

I'll probably do a more in-depth explanation about rendering at some point, but let's keep this rolling~

Moving forward is just a process of adding to the figures bit by bit. I do lean towards filling in each section from top to bottom, but you can feel free to pop around to certain parts that appeal to you more. I almost always do the faces first though, because if they end up sucking, I feel less guilty about scrapping it 😂 But no--I think he's pretty enough to proceed 😚

They're coming together now 🙆‍♀️ Another helpful tip--make sure you reuse color. By that, I mean--try to incorporate various colors throughout your piece, using the eyedropper tool to keep a consistent palette. I try to put in bits of red and blue where I can

Here they are fully rendered! Notice I've made a few subtle changes from the sketch, like adjusting the belt buckles because I made a mistake 😬 Hence why you shouldn't put too much stock in your initial sketch~

The next step is more of a stylistic choice, but I usually go over everything with an outline, typically in a bright color like green. Occasionally, I can just use my initial line layer, but for this, I've made a brand new, cleaner line 👍

And the final step is adjusting the color and adding some text:

Tada!! It's done!

All in all, this took me the better part of a week, but I have a lot of free time, so yeah ✌️

I hope you appreciated that little walkthrough~ I know people have been asking me how I do my art, but the truth is--I usually have no clue how to explain myself 😅 So have this half-assed tutorial~

As a bonus, here is a cute (cursed) image of Johnny without his mustache:

A baby, a literal infant child !!! who put this wee bairn on the front lines ??! 😭

Anyway! peace out ✌️

#tutorial #my art #art tutorial #since people have been asking #I remembered to save my process from this latest work~#enjoy 🙆‍♀️

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russellsppttemplates · 27 days

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https://www.tumblr.com/goldenboygate/748927575652515840?source=share

How about a blurb of happy tipsy/drunk Lando and reader on the boat and he's extra clingy and saying sweet funny things? Bonus points if she's caring for his bloody nose and he's looking at her with the gloomy sparkly eyes (we have all seen the pictures 👀🫣)

Note: the more content I see from this day, the more I think this is going in the books 😅

Cw: mentions a cut, blood, alcohol consumption

"Fill mine, please!", Lando asked one of the guys as he filled his own cup with some orange drink right on theme for the day.

When you said you'd join the celebrations for King's Day, Lando and Martin were the most excited for it and promised you one hell of a party indeed.

"Show me how you dance with your pretty hips! Baby, are my moves as good as yours?", Lando said as he swayed his hips from side to side, his knees helping him bounce slightly as he waved the cup around. The sunglasses didn't cover his blushed cheeks and big smile, but you were sure they were hiding your favourite pair of eyes, now probably squinty and glassy as he sang loudly.

"Yes, Lan, they're good", you shook your head as you laughed, letting him pull you closer to him so he could dance with you.

"My chest is full of love for you, baby", Lando whispered on your ear before he nipped at the skin there.

"We're out, Lando, there's other people here", you gasped even though you were enjoying his touches a little too much. Drunk Lando often meant an even clingier boyfriend.

"I don't care, I'm full of love for you - I love you!", he stated kissing your lips and everywhere on your face he could.

You turned around for a couple of minutes, approaching the edge so you could get a little bit of air and look at how everyone else was celebrating the day until you heard a gasp followed by Martin calling your name.

"What?", you asked before seeing Lando and his bloody nose, "Oh my word", you whispered as you approached him.

"We clicked the glasses and then this happened", Martin explained as you took a good look at the injury.

Even though it seemed like a little nick on the skin from the glass, it was bleeding a good amount, "Here's the first aid kit", someone said as they handed it to you.

"Does it hurt a lot, love?", you asked Lando as you rummaged through the bag to figure out what you had and what you could do with it.

"It's okay", he mumbled.

"Hold this, Lando, I need to find something to disinfect- we're in a boat full of alcohol drinks but medical grade stuff would be better I guess", you mumbled the last part, trying to read the label of the bottle and smelling them.

Once you look up after finding the rubbing alcohol and some cotton buds and pads, you see the gauze wrapped around his head, "like this, right, lovie?", Lando smiled, a genuine tinge of hope in his voice at helping you help him.

"Not quite", you laughed. You felt bad for doing so while he was clearly hurt despite not hearing many complaints from him.

"Let me put some steri strips - stay still, Lan, I need to see this upclose", you stated after cleaning the cut, applying the strips in a cross since you could see the skin was pulling both ways.

"Did you do it like an X? I felt that", Lando spoke, "X marks the spot for the treasure, doesn't it? I'm your treasure!", he cheered, "Taylor Swift says that it marks the spot where we fell apart, but we never fall apart baby, we're forever".

"You are, Lan, my biggest treasure", you smiled, "can you stay still for a bit longer though, please?", you asked gently still.

Lando complied with your request, staying still as you did your best to make sure the dressing was helping or at least not making the situation worse, "Is this your way of telling me you want me to get a rhinoplasty? Funny, it has rhino in it", he giggled before he attempted to make an elephant noise.

"No, baby, I love your nose just the way it is", you smiled, kissing the tip of his nose when you were happy with the improvised wound dressing, "there, all done! You even get a magic kiss for it to heal faster!".

"You're so pretty, you're really my girlfriend? Ah! Would you look at that, Martin? She's my girlfriend - I'm one lucky dude", Lando beamed at his friend before he kissed your lips, letting you sit on the edge of the boat, "you can sit there, baby, it's got railing to protect you from falling in the water - it's looks mucky", he made a disgusted face.

You sat there, glad to be able to experience these moments with your boyfriend and seeing his so carefree and happy. His PR team would maybe have to do some cleaning up, but at the end of the day, he was a happy young man enjoying his time off and he had the right to enjoy it.

"She is my girlfriend - Look, Y/N! Someone is recording us, say hi, my love!", he yelled, getting you to wave at a girl filming on another boat, "isn't she pretty? And she fixed my nose too!".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)

#lando norris blurb #inês writes blurbs #f1 blurb #f1 x reader

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arminsumi · 9 months

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growing up with gojo satoru.

NOTE: it's a trash draft abt growing up with gojo and he had a crush on u since ever or smth idk i think it's a potential backstory for a fic?? 👍🗑️

you and satoru have known each other since you were toddlers because the gojo family and your family are very close. he was born just two years after you.

growing up, he was the richest and snobbiest and snottiest. but he could be charming if he needed to be. formal when he needed to be. just not to you, his closest friend. his only friend growing up.

satoru greatly enjoyed picking on you. he annoyed you to death. chasing you down the halls while your parents had tea together. tripping you. ruffling your hair. stealing your sweets and putting them above his head once he had hit that big growth spurt and you could no longer reach them. "accidentally" spilling tea all over your new kimonos. bringing bugs to you just to freak you out.

but that was just all the annoying childhood memories that you dwelled on. if you asked your parents, you'd hear stories of how you and satoru were inseparable; jointed at the hip, the one never strayed too far from where the other was. where you went, he followed without missing a step and vice versa. often you'd be holding hands without realizing. you remember your grandparents laughing and teasing the two of you about that many times, and then you and satoru would throw each other disgusted looks and let go of each other's hands — only to resume that fingerlocking a few minutes later. it was subconscious for him to stick so close to you.

dwelling on the bad memories detracted you from remembering all the good memories.

the times satoru comfortingly slept at your side when you stayed the night during a thunderstorm at his house. all the times he stood up for you and faced off with that brat sukuna. how suguru would console and hug you while satoru threw fists with the other boy; always, always emerging victorious and bearing a triumphant, almost cocky smirk at you. albeit with blood dribbling out of his nose. you remember sukuna always picking on you, but not in the way satoru did; he had a malicious way about it, but satoru's teasing was playful and even cute. he was tasteful with his jokes, never falling victim to crudeness or vulgarity, never genuinely offending you.

and satoru's mother really liked to bring up that satoru had a "boyish crush" on you around the ages 10 - 14. she mentioned it at dinner all the time, when he was reaching the ages of 16 - 18 it really annoyed him.

"i did not have a crush on bugface." he would always deny it. ah, that ancient nickname, the one that still got on your nerves. and it came to be all because a bug landed on your cheek one day at the riverbank and you didn't notice until satoru pointed it out and burst with laughter.

satoru was gifted. you know, a child prodigy. he was the strongest. and growing up with him, he always used his gifts and strength to protect and care for you, whether it was physically or mentally. throwing fists with people who picked on you, acting like your bodyguard at times even if a boy simply wanted to ask you out on a date. studying with you until you aced your papers so that the both of you could go to the same high prestigious high schools.

albeit he was a bit enigmatic with how he showed his care. it was in the little things. helping you out the river when you fell in when you were twelve, confronting sukuna while you cried in suguru's arms about what he had said about your family, or picking blossoms out your hair.

that last one was something he continued to do through his whole life. whenever a blossom or leaf tangled into your hair, or got caught on your clothes, satoru would very gently pluck it off. he did it so smoothly that you never noticed he was doing it. though sometimes, you'd look at him suspiciously and ask why he was standing so close to you. he'd flick his brows up and hum "nothing."

#🗑️ — trash #gojo #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru

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yesimwriting · 1 year

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Pulling Away

A/n did i write smut for once? yeah. also timeline wise is this perfectly accurate? it’s iffy,, but this fic isn’t about the plot too much so it’s okay

Summary: You’re not the only one that’s feeling a little territorial thanks to the influx of people you’re around in Jackson.

warnings: 18+, implied age gap, no condom, a tiny bit manipulative if you squint, brief mention of losing virginity.

----

He’s not a force of nature, no matter how hard he might pretend to be for the sake of those around him. Joel can’t actually change anything. So the shift in temperature you feel as Joel stills has to be a byproduct of what’s in your head.

The kind of burning cold that better fits a fever runs through you and you hate yourself for it. This isn’t the first time you’ve been delusional when it comes to him.

You’re working off of a quarter of his face against low lighting. It doesn’t make sense for you to be able to feel so much from the little of him that you can see. It’s not anger. Or at least, not just that. There’s definitely a subdued rage radiating from him, but it’s undercut by something that punches you straight in the gut.

Maybe you’re being a little unfair, but you have a right to it at this point. You can’t follow him around blindly like some kind of puppy forever. Especially now that you’re both settled enough to be able to think of things outside of pure survival.

“Ellie’s asleep.” A flat observation that you can’t explain. Maybe it’s the need to break the silence, or maybe it’s a genuine attempt at making things feel normal. You two should still be able to talk. You never wanted that to end. “Swore she wasn’t tired, but passed out as soon as her head touched the mattress.”

Joel lets out a small sound from the back of his throat. It’s a spike in the atmosphere. “Think I’m gonna go to bed, too.” You don’t understand your awkwardness or the urge to create distance. It’s not like Joel would hurt you, but then again, the buzz of adrenaline doesn’t seem to be coming from a place of fear. It’s an uneasy burning that worsens when you raise your eyes enough to meet his. “Night.”

The one word is a little better and somehow so much worse. Not aggressive or trying to make things better. It’s just there. Civil.

When he says nothing, you take it as your sign to call it a night. Tomorrow could be better. Sure, your rocky dynamic might be going through growing pains while you set boundaries that should have been established long ago, but you’ll likely survive this. You’re all staying together in the same house in Jackson for the time being and you both care too much about Ellie to separate over something small.

Even if Joel won’t directly admit to it, the part of your relationship that feels like co-parenting is sacred. That’s part of the reason why the feelings you’ve been fighting with yourself to dismantle are so complicated. He cares about Ellie more than he wants to admit and the last thing you need right now is to tear away the little stability she’s finally been given. Not over a few awkward conversations and stiff moments.

The weird irony that vaguely reflects the issues of the world before isn’t lost on you. If someone were to squint at the situation, you’d seem like a wife trapped in a marriage for the sake of her children. Maybe if it was happening to someone else you’d have enough energy to find it funny.

You turn carefully, like a too loud squeak of your shoes could be what snaps the thinning thread tying you two to a hint of casualness. You don’t need to pass him to get to where you’re sleeping. The three of you had been set up in a space that allowed for each person to have their own room. It’s like that in theory, but in practice it’s more like Ellie’s room, Joel’s room, and the spare.

A comfortable enough bedroom that you’ve maybe spent the entire night alone in twice in the weeks you’ve been here. You can’t even pretend that you keep the few things you own in there either. Joel’s an even lighter traveler than you, so slowly your items made their way into the drawers in his room. Now, your room is basically just where you go to change into and out of sleepwear.

You’ll get used to it, used to the draft that originally led to you giving up on rocky sleep the first night you ended up sleeping next to Joel. Your dreams kept you up even more than the cold, but when Joel’s drowsy voice called out to you in the dark, asking why you were awake, you blamed the night’s chill. That’s how it first happened.

It was a mistake you should have never let turn into habit. You’re correcting it now. Setting boundaries to prevent heartbreak. It’s only a matter of time considering the way the women here look at him.

“Since when do you sleep in there?”

His voice is so gruff it instinctually freezes you. Any sarcastic comment at the back of your throat vanishes immediately. The both of you are fully aware of how you end up each night, but it’s a boundary in itself not to mention it. You’re not sure if it’s more him or you, but what happens at night and early in the morning is never mentioned.

It’s a dip into another reality. A space where Joel’s a little lighter, almost more open. Sometimes he’ll drag your arm with him when he moves onto his side, a silent way of asking you to stay close. On the best nights, he’ll joke about it, letting your limbs meld together under a blanket and swear he’s just trying to keep you warm out of the kindness of his heart.

His humor is the worst. The kind that some might justify as a result of years of it being at a stalemate for years considering the tragic state of the world, but you know better. They’re the kind of jokes that take a second to settle because of his general exterior, but are meant to be so dumb they force out a smile. In another life, the little comments are dad jokes.

The peace bleeds into the mornings now, he’ll keep the closeness and remind you that you don’t have to get up immediately by mumbling something about Ellie still being asleep. Like she’s the only thing significant enough to get you two to return to reality.

You’re convinced that these moments exist because neither of you mention them. He’s crossing a line you didn’t realize meant so much to you and he’s being dramatic it, too. It’s not the rarest thing for you to ‘attempt’ to sleep in your own bed. Sure, you’re more likely to lay in that room for a few hours on nights where Ellie stays up a little later, but this isn’t the strangest thing you’ve done.

He’s ripping any chance of returning to that separate world away from you. It stings more than it should. “Thought I’d give it a try,” you voice is too low, too defensive, “It’s not a big deal.”

The defense sounds so weak in your own ears, you don’t even want to imagine what he took from it. “Bullshit.”

His voice comes out in such a low huff you feel it more than hear it. If the sound had felt any less dangerous, you would have pretended to mistake it for another wordless grunt. Your lips part slowly as your mind struggles to create any kind of logical response.

Pretending is clearly getting you nowhere. The only reason you ever pretended it would was pure delusion. Joel has always been able to see through you, through any shift in mood. Even when your lies are better, his ability to sense them is uncanny.

He turns with no warning. Joel crosses the space between you before you can even fully register his steps. Your body tenses as heat rushes to your face in result of an oddly charged parody of fight or flight. You almost step back, one heel shifting back, but then you meet his gaze and the determined glint behind his eye is enough to melt you into place.

There’s something else there, too. A focus that pins you into place even further. Holds you there better than the barrel of a pistol could.

The absurdity of the warmth rooted in your chest should be enough to make the feeling go away. It doesn’t, so you force your lips to part again. You need to say something. Anything. “Joel?” Not that. Not just his name in a voice that feels violently small.

“You’re pullin’ away.”

The accusation in his voice leaves no room for argument. You try anyways, “No.” The rest of your thoughts can’t come out while you’re looking at him at the same time. There’s shame in dropping your gaze to focus on your shoes and the little space between you. “It’s not like that.”

Joel lets out a low sound. The creak of the floor as he steps forward again snaps you out of your trance. You step back in a desperate attempt to keep the space between the two of you equal. Your back hits the wall before you can come close to achieving your goal. It’s a knee jerk reaction that leaves your face feeling even warmer than before. A part of you expects Joel to laugh at the sound or at least comment on it. He doesn’t. He continues forward until his mouth is so close to your ear the warmth of his breath lingers when he exhales.

He takes a second there, relishing in your stillness. “Don’t lie to me.” Joel pulls away just enough to look you in the eye. “You don’t want to talk to me, you’re talkin’ about leavin’.” The southern drawl of his voice is increasing with his frustration. It’s distracting in a way that feels too convenient. Like he’s doing this on purpose.

You swallow once. “You found your brother. I have a sister out there, I’d--I think now that things are more settled with Ellie it wouldn’t be the worst thing for me to look for her.”

“And you don’t want us goin’ with you, but you’re more than willing to let the guy that’s always lookin’ at you--”

“Oh my god, is that what this is about?” You are insane. Of course his issue is who mentioned it. John knows travel, leaves Jackson and comes back in one piece when he needs to. He wouldn’t be the worst person to have with you if you did want to start a rudimentary search for your sister. “I didn’t make any plans with John, it just came up.”

“You don’t want us goin’ with you.”

Your throat feels dry. The thought of it makes you feel cold. You haven’t seen your sister in a few years and so much has changed. You’re no longer in the QZ and your sister has no way of knowing that. She can’t reach out if there’s trouble or good news and she has no reason to assume that you’re safe. You know where she lives, and if she’s not there, you know a few of her usual spots. She doesn’t typically stray too far from her bubble. It wouldn’t be a long trip, just long enough.

Long enough to give you some space. Long enough to remember what it’s like to not be around Joel all the time. Long enough to feel less about him.

And you’d come back. You wouldn’t just walk out of his life and Ellie’s forever. The little bit of space you’re trying to get would make it easier for you to stick around in the long run because it’s the only way you can think to get rid of the feelings that are trying to ruin everything.

“We haven’t been here that long and Ellie’s finally starting to feel settled. I don’t want to drag her out of that yet and make her feel like her entire life is just going to be her being dragged around the country.”

Your words are a jumble, rushed together in a way that makes the honesty of them less effective. It’s a good point. Ellie just called her room hers the other day and even asked about moving the bed against a different wall.

Joel lets out a low breath, eyes hardening. “You’re right. She’s settlin’ and she needs you.” He knows he’s hit his mark when you don’t respond. “How do you think she’s gonna take the news that you’re leaving?”

“Leaving to visit my sister.” You struggle to swallow. “Temporarily. It’ll take less than two weeks.”

His lips pull into a frown as his eyebrows together. Moody and brooding. The look you’ve openly referred to as his old man scowl. “With John.”

Ugh. This again. Why does it matter? Yes, John will be there, but it’s not like it’s just you and John. Your sister isn’t that far and she has access to supplies that aren’t common, she has an understanding with people that have easy access to medical supplies.

But even if it was just you and John, it doesn’t matter. There are a lot of areas in which you factor in Joel’s opinion, but this is definitely not one of them. You two aren’t together and with the way he does nothing to show any discontent when the girls here start to look at him, he definitely doesn’t need you keeping his bed warm at night.

“If I go, he wouldn’t be the only one there.” The fact that you’re trying to justify John’s presence leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. You’re a grown woman, free to associate with whoever you want. You might jokingly call him your old man from time to time, but he has no right. “And if even if he was, what does it matter?”

His jaw locks and the downwards tilt of his chin erases the little bit of confidence you’ve managed to build. “You’ve seen the way that boy looks at you.”

You have to bite your tongue to avoid from blurting out that he’s also seen the way majority of the women you see on a daily basis look at him. Joel’s also exaggerating. John does not have any feelings for you, and if he did, it wouldn’t matter. It’s not like you see John as anything more than a friend. But even if you did--it is not his business. At all.

“He doesn’t.” There’s little point in saying that, Joel’s not one to have his mind so easily swayed and he’s been wary of John since the beginning. Sometimes it even feels like the more you insist that he’s a good friend, the more Joel seems to dislike him. “And if he did, it doesn’t matter.”

Your words feel like a retreat they shouldn’t need to be. Small, the meaning of the sentence compacted and straining against the limited syllables. A part of you expects Joel to understand what you do mean. That it doesn’t matter because it takes two interested parties to form any kind of relationship. That your mind isn’t even there in terms of feeling safe...that the only person who has ever made you feel safe enough to imagine anything beyond friendship is right in front of you.

For the first time, Joel doesn’t pick up on the relevance of what isn’t said. You can feel his lack of understanding in the way he moves, placing one hand on the wall, near your head. You blink, trying in vain to explain the motion, explain his proximity. He’s caging you in.

The heat of his body is practically inescapable, amplified by the way he smells. Joel showered a little earlier, his natural scent combining pleasantly with that of plain soap. After so many nights next to him, you would think you would have developed a tolerance. You haven’t. And even if you did, you doubt it’d matter...this is different. Dizzying.

“Doesn’t matter?”

He’s somehow even closer and somehow not touching you. The realization that that’s the worst part of this leaves your stomach fluttering. You need the feeling gone, so you force out the first words that come to mind, “It matters as much as all the girls that look at you like that.”

It feels more bitter than it comes out, leaving a metallic taste on your tongue. You need out. You need space. You need sleep. Joel’s silence feels like opportunity, so as subtly as you can you try to shift away from the wall. Your back is off the wall for less than a second before you’re pushed back against it.

Your body hits the wall before you can realize that Joel’s hand is on your hip. There’s too much surprise for that fact to settle, so you look up at him almost bewildered. You expect him to let go or at least look somewhat apologetic. He does the opposite, moving the hand on the wall under your jaw and closing the distance between you in a motion so quick you can barely register it.

His mouth is on yours before your mind can catch up. It makes no difference to him. He’s rabid in his patience, taking what he wants without forcing your lips to part. His hand squeezes your hip and all at once it connects. You gasp and Joel pins you to the wall even more securely, deepening the kiss with an expert’s ease.

It lasts until you can’t breathe and ends with his teeth grazing against your bottom lip as he pulls away. “All of this,” the words are exhaled lowly, “’Cause you’re jealous.”

The kiss left you so light headed your first instinct is to just agree. To not think and do or say whatever you need to in order to get him that close again. But his tone is too sure, too teasing, and the implication isn’t something he can just get away with. “Jealous?” His smugness is hard to take with him holding you against the wall like this. It’s too vulnerable, like this might be some kind of game to him. It makes you feel transparent. Hollow. “Fuck whoever you want, I don’t care.”

It’s like you’ve said nothing until Joel has the audacity to squeeze your hip. “Whoever I want?” His hand shifts up your hip, your shirt moving with him. “Hm.” His hum settles beneath your skin, effectively silencing you as his eyes take their time raking over your face and down your body. “Those were some big words from you.”

Heat rushes to your face. It’s ridiculous--you curse more than that on a regular basis. He’s playing into context, too aware of what he’s doing. The urge to push burns twice as hard as buzzing in your chest. “They’re true. We’re not--we’re not anything, so if I want to go with--”

“I’m not losin’ you.” There’s a desperation in there that comes out so hard it circles back to vulnerable. “You wanna go see your sister, we go see your sister. That’s how we got through everything else.” The hand on your hip moves down, his fingers dipping beneath the elastic waistband of your shorts. You hate yourself a little for the way your breath audibly catches. “Understand?”

His hand lowers even further, long fingers pressing against the fabric of your underwear. You’re not breathing right and you can’t bring yourself to care. The only thing you can think of is closer. “Y-yes.”

“’Yes’ what?” No sympathy in his voice or anything that would give away that he has a hand shoed down your pants.

His touch picks up pace, rubbing against you until a whimper escapes your lips. “Yes, sir.”

Joel moves his hand away with no warning. The whine that escapes your lips doesn’t feel like your own. He’s barely touched you and you’re already like this. “Barely touched you and you’re already listening.” He hooks two fingers in between the band of your underwear. “Should’ve done this awhile again, then.”

You’re burning all over, the only thing you can manage is a quick, “Shut up.” It lacks any bite.

He pulls at the band of our underwear, letting it snap back into place. If you didn’t know any better, you’d consider the flash of something softer across his face as amusement. “If you want me to stop, you’ve gotta tell me.”

Your nod feels desperate. Your entire body feels desperate. For the way he kissed you, the way he touched you. “I-I’ll tell you.” He’s still not moving, not doing anything. It’s some sort of punishment. It has to be. “Joel...”

“You going to say ‘please’?”

You have half a mind to tell him to fuck off, but then his fingers hook around your underwear again. A promise. “Please, Joel.” This is all unfamiliar but you trust Joel to get what you want, what you need. “Need you.”

With no warning, he yanks down your shorts and underwear. They fall down your legs and you blindly kick them to the side. “Need me?” He tilts his head down, pressing an open mouthed kiss against your cheek, then two to your jaw. “Need me where, sweetheart?”

God. Anywhere. Everywhere. Your desperation reminds you of how incredibly unfair it is that you’re already down to just our t-shirt and Joel’s still fully dressed. You move your hand slowly, carefully tugging at whatever piece of clothing on him you can reach.

He’s unimpressed. “C’mon, use your big girl words.” His hand is in between your thighs, his fingers teasing at your entrance in a way that makes it impossible to focus on anything else. “You were usin’ them just fine a second ago.”

“Joel,” he kisses your jaw again, forcing away all train of thought. It has to be intentional. “Joel,” again, too soft.

“I know,” he exhales the words against your neck, “I know, sweetheart. Need me to take care of you.” Joel doesn’t wait for a reaction, just pushes his fingers fully into you. You gasp too loudly, Joel moves his free hand over your mouth. “Be a good girl and be quiet. Can’t wake up Ellie.”

Shit. How did you not think of that? “You’ll be good and quiet for me? Let me stretch you out a bit first?” There’s a knot in your stomach that’s slowly taking over all of your senses. As long as Joel keeps working at it, you could promise him anything. You nod against the palm of his hand.

You bite your tongue to keep from whimpering too loudly. “Need you to relax,” he presses into you even more firmly, “Get you ready for me.”

He slowly eases his hand off of your face. “Joel, please.” You’re not even sure what you’re asking for, you just know you need more. You want him to consume you entirely. Feel him until he’s all there is.

You hear the sound of a belt buckle and his jeans shifting. Instinctually, you move a hand towards him, wanting to help, wanting to feel him. “There’ll be time for that, right now it’s about you.” You’re about to argue when he skillfully adds another finger. Fuck. “You’re tight,” he breathes, “No one’s ever touched you here?”

His fingers curl inside of you and you have to burry your face into the fabric of his shirt to keep from crying out. “Only you.”

“Look who’s found her manners.” He’s picking up the pace and smoothing down your hair as you squirm against him. “Should’ve done this sooner.” Just as the coil in your lower stomach tightens, Joel takes his hand back.

You push yourself off of him, staring at him with an expression you know he’ll consider pouting. “Why’d you--”

“Because I want you to remember this.” He pushes you back to the wall, pressing his body against you. The head of his cock brushes against your entrance. With no warning, he pushes into you. Your sharp gasp overlaps with Joel’s low groan. “Y’need a man to fuck the attitude out of you.” He moves slowly, the friction unbelievably overwhelming and somehow not enough. “That boy wouldn’t know what to do with you.”

Joel presses you further into the wall, sinking into you as deep as possible before pulling out just to sink back in. His pace is even until his breathing picks up. You’re a mess against him, hiding your face in his chest when he starts fucking you with full force.

“You’re squeezing me so good.” Joel practically pants the words into your skin. “Fuck, ‘m going to--you gonna finish with me, sweetheart?”

Your mind is mush, you can barely nod against him as his thrusts start to lose their focus. You’re pushed over the edge as Joel’s teeth graze against your neck. He pulls at your orgasm, dragging it along until your legs are jelly and he’s pulling out in order to not finish inside you.

The two of you stay holding onto each other for what feels like a long time and not enough. “You’re not goin’ anywhere, okay?”

You pull your head off of him enough to look him in the eye. “Not without you.”

He smiles, lines that you can imagine kissing forever etching themselves into his skin. “That’s my girl.” Joel runs a hand up and down your back fondly. “Let’s go to bed,” he presses a kiss against your jaw, “Give me the space to properly appreciate you.”

The thought makes your body burn all over again. “You sure you aren’t tired out, old man?”

Joel huffs out what’s almost a laugh, “We’ll see who’s tiring who out, sweetheart.”

#joel miller x you #joel miller imagine #joel miller x reader #joel miller fic #joel miller smut #tlou fanfic #tlou x reader #the last of us x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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thechaoticdruid · 4 months

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Astarion x Chubby reader/Tav Headcanons because I'm tired of reading about Tav's perfect petite or hourglass body.

Some of the Headcanons get quite sexual so MDNI 18+ People ONLY. There's also some slight gore and mentions of Astarion's trauma.

Chubby Tav is going to be mentioned to be a Wizard with a noble background because that makes the most sense for a chubby adventurer in my mind!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Astarion wasn't really attracted to your body at first.

Not that he found you ugly or anything it's just your physical appearance really wasn't that relevant to his plan.

What mattered to him was how well you carried yourself in a fight and how easy you'd be to string along.

You were a skilled Wizard with a tendency to be mercilessly cruel when you came across the most vile of villains.

Some asshole was murdering children? You cast a spell that caused him to slowly inflate until he exploded into bloody bits.

Some crazy bitch was torturing and using innocents for blood sacrifices? You took control of her own body and made her stab herself over and over.

And Astarion just ate that up.

Not that he cared for the sad pathetic welps in peril mind you.

But the bloodlust in your eyes as you dealt with those you considered unredeemable villains honestly made him feel a bit hot and bothered.

And the sheer magical prowess you displayed was rather impressive.

Plus you didn't bore him half to death with magical lectures like Gale did so that was nice.

As he began pursuing you, your insecurities became rather evident.

You would often dismiss his flirting or straight up ignore it.

Being told you were sexually unappealing all your life had really gotten to you. To the point where you just couldn't wrap your head around someone as beautiful as Astarion coming onto you.

But determined as ever to have you as his protection Astarion persisted.

Perhaps you'd never had a lover or perhaps you'd had far too many whom left you for someone they found more appealing.

Either way you were convinced Astarion's advances meant nothing.

That either he wanted something from you or he was simply mocking you like so many others had done in the past.

So when he finally is blunt enough to say he wants sex with you it's a big shock.

Your first response is to push back.

You tell him to quit messing with you because it was not funny!

He swears to you that his desire to sleep with you is genuine and begins to go so far as to list everything he finds alluring about you.

The taste of your blood.

The way your eyes sparkle when filled with bloodlust.

How gods damned sexy you looked covered in the blood of your foes.

When it was clear that he hadn't made any comments about your figure, you actually began to think perhaps he wasn't making fun of you.

It took some time to think about it, but eventually you decided to accept his offer the night of the tiefling party.

At first you're very hesitant to remove your clothes in fear of him immediately backing out once he was able to fully take in your plump form.

At that point Astarion strips down first and seductively coaxes you out of your clothes.

If you're AFAB he immediately becomes enamoured with your plump breasts, his first instinct is to start sucking on them like his life depends on it as his hands grope and caress the deliciously thick cushy curves of your hips and ass.

If you're AMAB he's a bit more grabby with your ass than anything else. He also makes flirty remarks on how big you are while teasingly grabbing your cock.

Either way on your first night together you let him take the lead, evil voices in your head telling you that if you were on top you'd crush him like some disgusting monstrous beast.

He doesn't press you to do anything that makes you uncomfortable and focuses mostly on your wants and pleasure.

Leaves a trail of kisses and licks all over your body, worshipping every inch of it.

If you express your insecurities with him, claiming you didn't think he'd want you because you were fat he brushes it off.

"Nonsense darling, there's just more of you to nibble on.~"

And he is sure to nibble on every inch of you.

Especially those thick thighs.

He loves drinking from you there before eating you out or sucking you off.

As he begins to develop actual feelings for you he feels the need to comfort you more about your insecurities.

Of course Astarion doesn't quite understand how to do comfort. Not having any of it himself for the past 200 years.

He tries to fix it with sex. Thinking perhaps if you felt desired these pesky insecurities would just go away.

He'd grab your ass and whisper lustful remarks about your body when no one was watching.

Sometimes it helped and sometimes it didn't.

Eventually however things became much more complicated once Astarion came to the realization he was falling for you.

He found himself unable to 'perform' any longer. The guilt of manipulating you began to eat away at him.

Not to mention it was becoming harder and harder to come up with an excuse for why he didn't always seem fully present during intimacy with you. You were becoming more and more concerned. Which just made the guilt he felt grow.

You were too good for him!

He just knew you'd be crushed! Finally finding one person who actually desired you, only to discover it was all a lie!

You'd hate him for sure he just knew it!

But he couldn't do it any longer. You were kind to him. You actually cared about him.

And Gods damnit he knew what was like when people only care about your looks more than most.

You deserved better.

So he came clean and poured out his heart to you. Fully prepared for your anger and resentment.

But when it happened you just looked tired.

You confessed that deep down you knew it was all a manipulation.

Gods, the idea that someone as attractive as him would want you for your body was just ridiculous to you.

You really just wanted to pretend for a while.

To feel wanted and desired.

So in a way you used him too.

But then you too began to fall for him as well and began to dread when you'd eventually have to stop playing pretend.

After confession however you'd both agreed to start over, take things at a much slower pace.

And for the most part things were great!

Your late night trysts turned into cuddle sessions.

Astarion particularly loved using you as a pillow and snuggling into the warm, soft, cushion of your body.

If you ever felt the demons of insecurity eating away at you Astarion would immediately insist he didn't care what you looked like. He liked you for you.

Because you're you.

He had a little trouble wording it but it was sweet nonetheless.

When you finally reached Baldur's Gate there were a few hiccups in the road.

You were back amongst society and the eyes of the nobility who were a constant thorn in your side growing up.

Your father, the head of your family was intent on marrying you off to strengthen an alliance between another noble family and your own.

But despite his efforts most of the other patriar families were far too stuck up to accept his offer.

Deaming you as too unappealing to marry.

You didn't have any interest in an arranged marriage anyway, much too invested in your magical studies, but the rude comments from some of the other nobles still stung.

"My child is not being married off to a deep rothé!" One of them had actually said.

Now that you were back home the demons of your past began to plague your mind once again.

Astarion was there for you now however and tried to keep your mind off of things by reminding you that you both had a quest or two to finish!

If anyone were to make a rude comment out on the streets or sneer at you behind your back about how Astarion was way out of your league he would be quick to comfort you.

He'd pull you to the side and plant a wet kiss on your mouth right in front of any possible offenders.

And if any of them were to mysteriously disappear amongst the shadows of the night...

All the better.

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thecursedjazz · 1 month

Text

Postal 1 dude isn't evil (and is genuinely the most morally grounded and decent person we've actually met in the Postal Universe)

From what we gather he was living a very normal life prior to going crazy, not like the other dudes who go on senseless rampages when tasked with mundane everyday things. As Promo material does state he's a well educated and mannered person so it's only realistic that this man did have a genuine job and was generating a level of income prior to his decline in mental health and moving to Paradise.

And as stated before he is well mannered in the sense of being stated a "quiet nice boy" and "voted the most likely to succeed". From what we gather this guy was the text book example of a model citizen. The only "flaw" is that he kept referring to a girl he only dated once as his girlfriend but even then that could come down his delusions along with his lack of grip on reality causing him to genuinely think she's his girlfriend or the fact he's canonically quiet (as shown from the Promo material and also the fact that he doesn't actually physically speak AT ALL during the game) and most likely doesn't understand social ques as of it.

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

But the most important thing is that he doesn't even have malicious intentions.

The very first thing he proposes after being "attacked" by "groups of lunatics trying to invade his home" is.....go the sherrif for help. The Dude didn't have any Intention to go on a murder spree, he'd rather of just went to the authorities like any other average Joe. The whole thing really tells us that he's not usually a violent person.

Even rewinding back to level one: the war journals (and Vince) did state that the Dude was entirely convinced that he was being attacked by group of lunatics, one of which even firing rockets at him, goes without saying that self defence is really the only option here.

Course it remains solely as self defence until the Dude reaches the train station, the significance being his war journal where he writes "if I can get out i can warn everybody...YES, I CAN WARN EVERYBODY!". The dudes goal has shifted into saving the country as a whole rather than himself which ultimately steers him into going to the air force to find out what has happened to cause the supposed hate plague. The dudes actions represent him more as selfless now with him now doing this in the bigger scheme of things rather than his own self preservation. If its not clear already: maniacs wouldn't care about warning/ saving people from a hate plague, Dude 2 most likely wouldn't give a shit and let it spread since he was totally cool with nuking the entirety of paradise and its innocent civilians.

Furthermore he openly states that he doesn't want to kill people. At the trailer park he writes that "There must be others like me, immune to this...germ warfare or whatever it is". Practically he's saying that he'd much rather run into some normal people instead of having to kill them, it's a stark contrast to the other dudes with the Postal 1 dude appearing as genuinely empathetic whereas the others will literally kill people for something as simple as waiting in line and afterwards not think anything of it.

Also very worth noting that when he enters the ghetto he mentions he's genuinely worried he'll get mugged, we're really getting the picture that he's literally just some normal ass guy with the idea of going to the rough side of town shakes him up.

(Even worth pointing out that only for the ghetto does he go back to calling it a diary like he's momentarily lost his soldier/war mentality at the thought of going into the rough side of town).

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

So simple and short:

Postal 1 dudes literally just some average everyday guy (who's been through some really fucked up shit that's forever gonna remain unexplained beyond the veteran theory) who's trying to do the right thing but he's woefully misguided due to his deteriorating mental state as well as being possessed by an entity beyond his broken minds comprehension.

He's literally the complete opposite to every other postal dude (and if anything he's one of the most morally grounded people in the franchise as crazy as it is)

Oh and if this wasn't enough: rws did say on a twitter post that he's literally Just some average guy who's had some shitty days.

(I wrote this at 4am so soz if it's all over the place)

#postal 1 #postal dude #postal #postal 1 dude #running with scissors #postal redux

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highhhfiveee · 7 months

Text

safety net [p2] (pornstar!mike schmidt x reader)

part one: 💸 | part three: 📹

are we excited???? prepare your hearts cause the feels kinda took over

tags: fluff, lots of internal pining, porn mentions but nothing graphic. mike and reader are both genuine people and that draws them to each other. should be error free bc i actually proofread this one but if there are any, my sincerest apologies

“you have to be, like, evading taxes or something.”

mike chuckles behind you as he closes the door to his apartment--sorry, penthouse.

you're stood with your jaw unhinged, eyes scanning over the wide, sweeping space of his open concept living room and all of the furniture that decorates it, expensive-looking but cozy in a way that you wish you could replicate in your own place. you stalk over to tall windows that line the farthest wall, creating a corner that allows for you to see the bustling city below; all of the flashing lights, people drunkenly stumbling around street signs, and cars zipping and weaving through traffic.

you'd never seen anything like this, just a girl used to the urban suburbs on the south side of town, and your cheeks flush with embarrassment when you feel mike's presence behind you. you don't turn to him, dropping your shoes and purse to the ground and keeping your eyes trained on a street corner below.

"the view's what sold me on the place. i'm able to watch the sunrise on that side," he points to the windows on the other side of the kitchen, offering a view of the green space nestled in between skyscrapers. "and the sunset on this one."

"must be nice," you reply, backing away from the glass and observing the rest of the space. it was the size of, like, three of your apartments combined, organized and free of mess. "i only have a view of a corner store, and a really really busy bus stop. it's super annoying."

"where do you live?"

you give him the name of the neighborhood you'd known your whole life. you didn't recognize any of the area's flaws when you were a child. it was never a red flag to you that the street off of the one you grew up on had two storefronts of the same fast food chain on either end, or that the closest supermarket was twenty minutes away. you hadn't even batted an eye when some of your school “friends” would tell you about visiting gourmet cupcake restaurants and vintage consignments stores. you just went along with it, saying, "that's so cool. the fanciest place by my house is the $7.99 buffet." they all laughed at you.

it wasn't until you were older, freshly graduated from high school and looking to be on your own that you realized the disparity across the region. only people with certain attributes got the nice things, and you'd been conditioned to be grateful to have a daycare in a plaza with a smoke shop and tax preparation office.

"it's just too expensive for me to move anywhere else. i can barely make rent now, with the way they keep raising it every year. kept the tag on this dress just so i could take it back." you look down at yourself and mike can see the longing in your eye, the twinkle in them that wishes you could hang it up in your closet tomorrow.

after tonight, you kind of wish you hadn't bought it at all. you thought that simon would’ve found it insatiable, wining and dining you before taking you back to his place for a night cap, but all you think about now is the embarrassment of walking back into the luxury department store, handing them your receipt for the item you wore once and couldn’t keep.

it fills you with distaste and you find yourself desperate to peel the item off your skin. “is it okay if i shower?”

mike nods furiously, apologizing for not offering. he’d just been staring at you while you talked, admiring you. he was used to people with perfect appearances around him, done up by professionals that costed $200 an hour, but you were different, uncaring about your unruly curls and smeared eyeliner. you were unbothered and carefree, and that fascinated him.

he leads you down a long hall, coming to a stop once it forks into three different directions: left, right, and slightly diagonal right. the walls are lined with paintings and photos of mike and people that share his features, and at the end of the diagonal path is a giant trophy case, filled to the brim with plaques and trophies of various sizes, shapes, and finishes.

“jesus,” you murmur, abandoning your escort. mike’s walked ahead of you, but he makes his way back when he notices you’re not behind him.

“everything okay?”

you point to his trophy case, letting out an incredulous laugh. “are all of those for you?”

mike nods, and you laugh again, shaking your head in disbelief. “okay, so you’re obviously some sports star because no way someone living like this wouldn’t be.”

mike goes rigid next to you. he never knew how to bring up his career to new people he met, sometimes ping-ponging between “i work for a world-renown production company” and “i’m an entrepreneur”. he had no problem lying to other people, his guard all the way up from years of rejection and disgust at the mention of “sex worker” and “pornstar”, but something felt wrong about lying to you. he swallows hard, racking his mind for a semi truth.

“not sports, but definitely still physical.” you scrunch your nose at this, blinking at him in confusion, but you stop when he grabs your hand and nudges his head in the direction of the bathroom. “didn’t you want to shower?”

you nod, allowing him to pull you down the hall but not without a second glance at the case. what other physical career presented you with that many awards?

the bathroom is a star in it's own right, modern in a way that you fawn over when you're watching hgtv. the gigantic, complicated looking shower invites you from the corner, nestled in between the gadget-rigged toilet and garden bathtub.

all of the decor in here was clean, pale blue, a nice offset to all of the white tile and gold-accented appliances.

you're half-listening, your conscience replaced with static as mike explains where everything is. "so...towels are over here..."

his shower had a rainforest head and a small, handheld one clipped into a holder, with a screen embedded into the wall. there was a bench and railing to hold onto, a speaker on the back tile....your eyes cut to the toilet, and the smaller one next to it. a bidet??????

"...and, the bidet remote's right next to the soap. i'll lay some clothes out for you on the hall table, but let me know if you need anything, okay?" you react a little too late, raising your hand and squeaking, "wait" right as mike's backed out of the room.

"fuck."

you try to look around for things, eventually finding the towels in a closet concealed as a part of the wall and, as a bonus, a knob to turn on the heated floor?????

you strip down, completely bare under the dress, and fold it up, retail employee coded, delicately placing it by the sink with the tag on top. it was exactly how you'd return it, with a shitty excuse and plastic smile. you do the same with mike's jacket.

you throw your hair up before wrapping yourself in the towel, delicately cloaked in what had to be egyptian cotton, and pace on over to the shower. you tap the daunting screen, and it lights up with a flourish, displaying the date, time, weather, and a host of different icons.

you don't know why it's so hard for you to turn the shower on, scrolling and bumbling through a collection of options that weren't simply turn on. why did you need to use a screen anyway? why reinvent the simple wheel that was a faucet lever?

you decide you need mike's help after a bit, though self-conscious about having to ask after he probably told you earlier. you splash cool water on your face before leaving the room, attempting to wring the anxiety out of your body.

you're at the fork in the hallway again, the view of you obscured from the living room by a wall, and you turn your attention to mike's trophy case again. you're too far to see any of the engravings on anything and you're so curious to find out what they say.

you feel your muscles attempt to pull you down the lonely hall, but you halt, reminding yourself that mike was a kind person who'd invited you into his home, and you were supposed to be showering, not snooping. still, even with the moment of morality, untrustworthy interest prodded at your brain.

mike's exiting his room with a handful of clothes for you when he catches you, arms wound around yourself to keep your towel up. you haven't seen him yet, your gaze fixed on something down the hall. he gulps softly, unaware that he would see you like this so early in your connection. your long neck cranes forward to see better, and he prematurely wonders if you're sensitive there, mind swirling with musings of bites and marks.

"something wrong?" you jolt, blinking and stammering and damn near jestering as you attempt to defend yourself. mike doesn't look at you with malice or cynicism, simply stepping closer as your eyes flitter around. "i, uh...i need help with the shower. i don't know how to turn it on."

mike huffs, squinting his eyes at you jovially. "that the only thing?" fuck.

you drop your shoulders with a deep sigh, throwing a pointed finger down the hall. "i also wanna know why you have all those awards." there's a small, almost undetectable change in mike's face, his eye twitching. you watch him shrug it off, placing a hand on your shoulder to lead you back to the bathroom. "i'll explain after you shower."

you're puzzled as to why he's so cagey about it, but you don't question it, accepting his statement and finally listening to him as he explains what to do

you're alone again after he sets the clothes down and leaves. he took your dress, easing you with "just going to hang it up. no worries" and a sheepish smile, and you're eager, ready to hear about what he does and how he's able to afford all this, including this shower that provides you with the best shower you think you've ever taken.

you're able to get the water to the perfect temp, scalding, with the perfect amount of pressure to sting your skin and make you feel clean. you wash away all of your worries; thoughts of keeping a roof over your head, being okay, and finding a genuine connection extinguished with the hum of soft jazz and lather of ylang ylang scented soap.

you lotion yourself with one of the various creams on mike's counter, soothed by the powder smell, and slip into the clothes you're provided--a pair of soft, heart-covered boxers and a university t-shirt, faded into burgundy from countless washes.

mike's sitting on the couch, scrolling aimlessly on his phone when the the demure pitter patter of your feet sounds against the floors, and he swears he almost dies when he sees you.

maybe it hadn't been totally random when he chose the clothes for you, deciding to give you two of his favorite items so he could see how they looked on you. the shirt, very lived in and from his alma mater, skirted your thighs and covered up his boxers, draping over your lithe body in a way that made his mouth go dry.

"okay," you call, dropping beside him on the couch. the wispy hairs around your hairline frame your clean face, guiding his attention to the smattering of dark moles around your eyes and temples. "tell me. what are all of those awards for?"

"do you want some water or something?" he interrupts, and while you accept, you furrow your eyebrows at him. he gets up with the swiftness of a nascar pit crew, and you hold your gaze on him, pivoting your body as he moves.

"mike, c'mon, what gives? you can trust me."

his back is towards you, filling a glass with water from the filtered water faucet. he hunches at your baffled tone, your voice all soft and downcast.

he wants to scream because it's so easy to just come out and tell you what he does. you didn't say anything at the restaurant, but maybe you'd put two and two together when he finally told you truth, remembering a thumbnail from the porn site of your choosing. he wasn't ashamed---nowhere near that. he'd been in the industry almost a decade, moving past the internalized and societally-imposed scrutiny he felt for his career. it was other people that were ashamed, other people that turned their nose up at him because of what they assumed he was; sleazy, devious, a player. he'd had so many connections blow over because of it, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to handle that happening with you.

you just stare at his back, watching it rise and fall with every laboured breath he takes. what was so bad about what he did that he couldn’t just tell you? he was obviously good at whatever it was, and you wondered if it was a front for something. maybe he disarmed you with his nice guy act, and he lured you here to kill you an—-

the clink of glass on glass brings you back to reality. mike is beside you again, staring blankly ahead while he wrings his hands.

“i’m a pornstar,” he utters plainly. he squeezes his eyes shut, expecting you to make a noise of disgust or get up and leave, but you don’t.

he opens one eye, and then both. you’re staring at him with no concrete expression, lips pursed. he closes his eyes again, counting in his head before opening them once more.

you’re still there, and it almost makes him cry.

“that checks out,” you muse. you’re fairly non reactive, but not because his admission freaks you out. you’re thinking back to the awards, the sheer amount of them in that case, and how good he really must be at what he does. “why didn’t you want to tell me?”

he runs a hand through his hair, melting into his couch with boyish reserve. his eyes are a mixed bag, bouncing between relief and despair. “people run every time i tell them. lots of them act like i just told them i killed their childhood pet and it's just so...disheartening, y'know?

"i just don't get it because it's just like any other job. you work, fucking hard, because you want to perform at your best, just like anyone else. the stigma around it never goes away, no matter how hard you try to convince people. they think you get around outside of it, having sex every second of every day, or that you're gonna mess around with your coworkers and give them something. it's like the trust level is in hell before you're even able to prove yourself." you scoot closer to mike without a word and place your hands over his. his rings are cold against your palm.

it's a gentle gesture. the airy smile you give pacifies him and he swears he's never felt anything like what he feels now.

"i'm not here to judge you, mike. i never will. sex work is a completely valid career, just like anything else. i'm sorry about all those shitty people who made assumptions about you."

"no need to apologize," he whispers, adjusting his hands so that they cradle yours now. you tilt your head down bashfully, lashes fluttering. "all those times led me here."

you two chat for a long while. mike tells you all about the production company he works for, how he got into the business, what his work schedule's like, the community of other stars that he works with, his stage name. you can tell he's passionate about it, lost in his rambles and talking with his hands. certain words segue your convo into other topics, like books and food and pop culture. you two have a lot more than coffee in common.

"i was surprised you didn't recognize me, honestly. not in a douchey way, but just because everyone does. it's usually the first thing they come up to me with." you could only imagine, being approached with "i've come to all of your work" in the condiment aisle at the grocery store.

"i don't watch professional porn really. too staged for me."

"i get that. i think you'd like our content. we really found a good balance between professional quality and ethical, genuine, safe fun."

you try to stay nonchalant, not wanting to betray the fact that you're itching to watch something of his work. "that's really nice. i bet you have quite the catalog."

"almost ten years worth so, yeah, i'd say," he chuckles, bringing his bottom lip between his teeth. "enough about me though. what do you do for work?"

"nothing as exciting and well-paying as porn. i type letters and numbers into a computer in a cubicle. it barely pays the bills, but i've worked in too many customer service jobs to ever go back." mike agrees. you're about to say something else when you're interrupted by a yawn, unhinging your jaw like an animal. you quickly cover your mouth, muttering, "jeez. sorry." you didn't realize it, but you were tired, exhausted from the night you had.

"it's okay, it is pretty late." he checks the time on his phone and turns it to you. 2:23 am. had you two really been talking on this couch for 3 hours? "i can show you to the guest room if you're tired. i have a shoot tomorrow anyway so i should get to bed too."

"sure," you whisper, grabbing his hand when he extends it to you. he pulls you to your feet like you weigh nothing at all, and you tail behind him like a lovesick puppy.

you're feeling that tingly ball of warmth in your stomach, the one you've felt with every person you thought you'd marry. you usually indulge in it, but with mike, it scares you. why do you feel like this after one night with a man you barely even know?

it's rash and inappropriate, you decide, and you're still convincing yourself as you slide under the black satin sheets and duvet on mike's king sized guest bed. you recline on the satin-covered pillows, sinking into the memory foam. it's a nice departure from your noisy childhood mattress back at home.

"do you have work tomorrow?" you shake your head, and mike claps his hands together with a cheer.

"yay. i'll be leaving around 8 or so, but feel free to sleep in and hang around as long as you want. the remote for the blinds is right there, i'll put a toothbrush out for you, and there's all kinds of food in the kitchen. help yourself. just let me know when you're leaving so i can lock the door."

your eyes squint. "you're gonna lock the door after i leave?"

mike nods, smiling excitedly and geekily diving into his rationale. "mhm, i have a smart lock. i can do it from my phone."

you're so tired that the words just foolishly tumble out of your mouth. "you must have great dick."

mike lets out a laugh that's a blend of flattered, nervous, and amused and you're both red-cheeked and flustered. "i am so fucking sorry, i, uh..y--" you stammer over all of your words, finally able to wrench out, "a smart lock just sounds expensive."

mike stares you down with fascination, backing towards the door. "watch the videos and find out for yourself, yeah?" he winks at you, and you gulp so loudly you're sure he hears. "goodnight, y/n. sleep well.”

"you too,” you croak.

you're out like a light once he leaves, but not before telling yourself to put up a new sticky note at home: “watch mike's porn."

you awake what feels like days later, refreshed and made anew. you click on the remote for the curtains, and they rise slowly, flooding the room with rich early afternoon sun. the clock on the nightstand reads 12:38 pm.

you hop to your feet and make your way to the bathroom to brush your teeth and wash your face before stalking to the living room. it's filled with light, and you think about how you'd probably never be depressed living in a place like this.

a box, red and moderately sized, sits upon the kitchen counter. you think you should ignore it, but as you get closer, you see a paper with your name scrawled across it. you like your name in mike's voice and handwriting.

you pull up the lid and inside is your dress from last night with the tag missing, two fat wads of hundred dollar bills, and another note that reads, “you deserve to feel beautiful and pay your rent <3 call this number when you're ready to go home. -m”.

in this moment, you're 100% positive that you're falling in love.

wow wow wow wow. they are so fucking CUTE! i love themmmmmmm <3 hopefully this tides y'all over for a bit because i need to outline the rest of their story, and i wanna work on some other stories for a little bit 💜 more parts are definitely coming, have no fear!

i'd also like to say that while i use y/n in my stories, reader is typically a character that i'm inventing. using your own name and likeness while you read is totally fine, of course! i just use y/n as a placeholder name for my reader character bc i don't feel like coming up with character names all the time <3 sorry if that doesn't make sense 💔

i hope you all enjoyed! happy reading my seedlings 🌱💜

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtsss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt fluff #fnaf #fnaf movie #fnaf fic #faire is writing stuff #faire's (pornstar) mike schmidt <3 #they are so fucking cute #like omg #i get the feels from them and they're my characters #rooting for them fr #josh hutcherson

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unluckilyimnot · 8 days

Note

Hii!! Hope you're doing well, i just discovered you and im OBSESSED with your posts. Idk if you saw the chapter 260 leaks yet, so if you dont wanna get spoiled, please read this request after reading the new chapter. I wanted to request some headcanons for ness, kaiser, reo and bachira where they are dating the reader and the readers parents basically sees them as their son (my parents are just like that for my older sisters boyfriend and they call him their son. Even invite him over for vacations and family dinners everytime. I think its really cute🥹💕) I was thinking of this request especially for kaiser after seeing his backstory. Feel free to ignore if you want to. Also thank you for your posts i LOVE the way you write💕

S/o with a welcoming family - Reo, Kaiser, Bachira, Ness

m.list | rules

Note : hi thank you for your request! You're so sweet thank you dear ♡ You don't know but that's a sensible point for myself and the day you send this I spend the night crying about my shitty parents

Kaiser

He's shocked the first time he meets your parents

He's not the type to feel comfortable around parental figure for obvious reasons

Your parents welcoming him like he belongs here touch him in a way he can't explain

He's invited more and more, your mom rely on him when she needs help and so does your dad, it's all new to him

If you have a rather intimate and physical touch is a norm, he's probably shocked at first

It has nothing to do with you and the way you touch him, yet he feels like crying the first time your mother hugged him

He's probably less cocky since he doesn't feel the need to do so around them

It just became a safe place, just after you

Ness

With you and how you talk about your parents, he already thinks that he can get along with them

But when your mom mentions how she loves books/movies he can't help but talk about what he likes as well !

He would probably be closer to her in that sense but he does his best for your dad to like him as well

He likes to help around so he's accepted really soon

If you have younger siblings he LOVES to spend time with them !!

It's endearing and you know how bad he needs it

Bachira

He'll bring so much joy to your parents

Particularly if your an only child

Seeing you with someone so childish will probably heal sometignf in them, you seem so happy and joyful

Bachrira would feel weird at first to be treated like you are but will comes to love it

He loves your parents a lot

To the point where he'll even celebrate his birthday with your family once in a while

He's never been welcome somewhere like this, it will heal something inside of him as well for sure

Reo

He's always welcome with hugs or your father's gently patting his back

He learn what it is to be listened to

He's used to speak without people listening to him so the first time your parents answer and go on the same conversation as him, he'll feel seen

His jaw clenched but a genuine smile will form on his lips

They're just like you are, warm and welcoming

Your dad LOVES him so much

They can talk together for hours and you love to see him this comfortable around your family

If you have siblings, they love him I just know it they told me

You can tell how radiant he is and it makes you glad you introduced him

He's always welcome with hugs or your father's gently patting his back

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writeyouin · 4 months

Text

Lucifer (Hazbin Hotel) X Male-Reader - Sinless Sinners - Chapter 1

Chapter 1 - Hate For All Sinners

A/N - As promised, one for male-presenting folks. This is also on A03: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53448742/chapters/135282199

Warnings – None.

Rating – T

FEM VERSION HERE

NON-BINARY / GN VERSION HERE

“Who’s that?” Lucifer asked, pointing you out to Charlie.

“Oh,” Charlie sidled over to you, wrapping her arm warmly around your shoulder as she corralled you towards her father, “Dad, this is (Y/N). He’s one of the hotel’s, uh, allies I guess, right (Y/N)?”

“That’s right, Sir,” You held out your hand for Lucifer, who was staring dumbly at you, uncertain what to make of you.

Dead and in Hell - those were the only two qualifications for becoming a Demon, so why were you like this?

“Dad, are you listening?” Charlie said exasperatedly, clearly annoyed that Lucifer’s thoughts seemed to have trailed off once again.

“So, (Y/N) is another one of your patrons. That’s nice.”

“What? No. Dad, I just told you, (Y/N) has no interest in being redeemed.”

“Yep, he’s our only permanent resident who wants to help rehabilitate other souls. Isn’t that great? He helps with everything here, and he doesn’t ask for anything in return.”

“That’s not true,” You blushed at Charlie’s praise. “Your daughter is very generous, Sir. She lets me stay here rent-free.”

“And that’s all you want?” Lucifer asked suspiciously.

“Honestly? Yeah.”

“Will you be okay?” He asked sombrely.

“I’ll be fine,” Charlie assured him, taking hold of his hands.

“That’s my girl.”

“Is there anything else you need?”

Charlie couldn’t help but worry about her father. What would happen when he went back into isolation? He needed something to focus on, but… What was there for him when all of Hell was his prison?

“Actually, Dad, there is one more thing.”

“Name it,” Lucifer smiled, glad that his daughter wanted to ask things of him, as any normal child should want from their parents.

“I think it would be good for you to socialise, just a little bit.”

“Charlie,” Lucifer’s voice was strained at the thought of going anywhere else in Hell.

She pounded her palm decidedly, much like a judge pounding her gavel.

“What? NO!” Lucifer sputtered.

“It’s fine, Dad, (Y/N) doesn’t mind, right (Y/N)?”

You shrugged your shoulders passively, “I guess?”

“See? You should get to know your citizens, Dad. It will be good for you, I promise. They’re not all as bad as you think.”

“Alright,” He agreed.

Then, he summoned a portal for you with the flick of his wrist.

“Good luck, kiddo.” He said to Charlie, and upon keeping a safe distance from you, he waited for you to step through the portal.

“Charlie, I’m assuming that you have a good reason for this,” You said before taking a step towards your newly appointed home, “Just call me if you need anything.”

With that, you were gone, followed closely (though not too closely) by Lucifer.

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sixosix · 1 year

Note

Hi! I'm on a sae brainrot lately it's gonna consume me and your fics are soo good😫 can I req a sae with reader in love with him despite being friends with rin, I just love the idea of rin being annoyed with the two of them giving each other heart eyes when reader comes over to their house, thank you sooo much!

think of this as an au where the itoshi brothers aren’t as insane and strained ur welcome ALSO ANON HELPP this idea is so funny

rin doesn’t consider himself as someone who has homicidal urges. on a good day, at least.

but you are making it harder and harder not to just strangle you and yell out strings of profanity whenever you sigh dreamily over his brother.

his big brother, of all people. rin knows that he and sae are pretty popular, but for his best friend to be head over heels for his brother when you should be immune to the itoshi bloodline is a bit absurd.

“it’s the best friend’s brother thing,” bachira said. rin has no idea what that means, but apparently, it’s when people go crazy over the best friend’s brother. rin hopes that none of sae’s friends are giving him the same googly eyes you do whenever sae passes by—that would be horrifying.

“he’s so handsome,” you explained to him when he asked why you are so obsessed with his brother in blood. “so—! just soo fucking—” and then rin asked you to not finish that sentence because he might have to damage his eardrums by hand if you continue.

that’s not even the worst part, no.

a normal person (like rin) would think that, okay, pining isn’t that bad. crushes are normal. my friend’s weird obsession with wanting to kiss my brother stupid is normal, maybe. but no. it’s not that easy. rin cannot just coax you to move on or force to imply anything in case sae hunts him down.

because his big brother, itoshi sae, is in love with you.

rin doesn’t know when— how it started. he just found out when you had to come up to rin to ask for something and left like a frightened deer, and sae, dead-inside, doesn’t-give-a-fuck-about-you sae, kept staring at you until you were out of sight. there was a smile on his face—a fond one, if that makes it any better.

(it does not. rin didn’t even know what to say at this point. his hands are itching.)

“that’s just a little brother thing,” shidou remarked once when rin lamented about his worrying urge to throttle you and sae simultaneously. rin understands that one, at least.

you have to come over today.

it’s not a big deal since you’ve come to his room to hang out before. it’s not always voluntary on rin’s part; you just appear out of nowhere, carrying pillows and about three blankets, materializing out of nowhere and onto his doorstep.

the difference is that his brother is back in japan, and you’re coming over today.

why is this a problem?

well, for starters: rin is not fond of seeing you make a fool of yourself and cry about it to him later on. he sleeps through it, usually, but you smack his head when you meet again, and he is afraid he might get brain damage soon.

second, rin only stays in his room, so it is where you follow. if the time comes you leave, sae will interrogate the hell out of him and give the coldest glares out of sheer jealousy. rin cannot be bothered to explain that no, he doesn’t like you that way, and sae is free to take you.

he doesn’t want to expose you like that, though. he is not that much of an asshole. as horrible and hilarious it is to watch you trip over yourself to see him, rin knows you genuinely like sae.

rin sees it in the way you smile helplessly whenever anyone mentions him, and rin can tell that it’s serious. you’re still his friend; he still cares about how this will work out for you.

“rin, i’m telling you,” you say, and in your excitement—or hysteria, really—you fail to notice that your voice is terribly loud. “shidou is out to get me. i have nightmares about him hunting me down because i beat him four times. he has a bat with nails on it.”

“let him win, then,” rin deadpans.

although it is his house, he’s the one trailing after you. mostly to make sure you don’t eat all the ice cream. again.

“i can’t lose to shidou, rin. that’s a stain on my resume.”

“then don’t dream about shidou with a bat with nails on it.”

“you’re the life of the party, itoshi.”

you yelp as you turn into a sharp corner on the way to his room. rin blinks at the sound and visibly deflates when he realizes who you’ve crashed into. he holds back a groan, knowing precisely what’s coming next.

cue: romantic guitar, doves flying, bells ringing.

“y/n,” sae says, holding you up by the shoulders.

“...sae,” you reply, belatedly. and then proceed to gape at him as if you forgot that he is rin’s brother and they live together for that reason.

“nii-chan,” rin says, too, because he really is not in the mood to witness this.

sae blinks up at rin. “where are you two going?”

rin hesitates. “my room.” you’re still steaming because sae is still holding you.

sae narrows his eyes.

“y-you can join us!” you blabber, refusing to meet sae’s eyes—which is horrible, really, because if you just took a single glance at sae, you’d see how his eyes softened impossibly.

“don’t say that.” rin scowls. he already has it rough having one lovesick freak in his room; he is not fit to handle two simultaneously, for each other, too.

“i’ll join,” sae decides instantly, staring right at you. rin wants to throw his hands in the air. “what did you say about shidou?”

thx for reading i had too much fun w this LMFAOOO

#606:BLLK #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x you #itoshi sae x you #sae itoshi x you #itoshi sae x y/n #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae fluff

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onyourhyuck · 11 months

Text

Sin & Obsession. | L.MK

— Prologue: “I never knew you’d have such a slutty side to you, Y/n. What else are you hiding underneath that good girl façade?”

— Summary: You’re a faithful good girl. You attend church and you stay out of trouble. Mark is a guy that attends your church and what you don’t know is that he’s been obsessed with you for a while…

— Genre: Dark smut / Romance. Slight horror aspect (?) Mark Lee is a stalker. Mention of Christianity and faithfulness. Christian!Mark. Church mention. Mark is very much obsessed with Y/n. He stalks her. He has deep affection for Y/n but like super borderline I guess? Watching Y/n masturbate while he is hiding in her closet. Mark jerks off. Mark panty thief. Pantie sniffing.

— Notes: Part 2 anyone?

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You’re a faithful Christian. You’ve always been. You were born and raised in your cradle as a good faithful Christian who prides herself in your religion daily. You bring religion everywhere you go with you. One thing you like is that you do mid-week service and as well as attending every Sunday to the church.

You get along with everyone, you speak to everyone, and you try to get involved in your community activities.

However one thing you don’t know at all. You’re completely unaware of what people actually want from you. Mark Lee is a guy that goes to your church and he’s had his eyes on you for quite some time. He attended the church a little bit longer than you and then you moved into the area and started going to this church that he is going to.

He’s always lived in Canada. So when he heard you move from such a far away person to Canada to start a fresh chapter he couldn’t help but fall for you and your own words. It was love a first sight for Mark. You were beautiful, charismatic, there was something about you when you speak about God like he was your best friend. He genuinely thinks it’s beautiful, and he admired your religious side too. He was a faithful committed Christian too, himself. However you were slightly different.

You are a good girl everyone can see that when they look at you. You dress like one, you dress pretty good and wear what makes you feel great. At this point Mark thinks the clothes aren’t wearing you, you’re wearing the clothes. You make them look very good. He won’t lie.

When you come to church in a dress Mark would confess that he truthfully did take a look down at your breasts once or twice. He can’t help it. You wore to church in a white dress and what do you expect him to do? Not to stare down there? Mark thinks it would be very rude of him if he didn’t look down at your beautiful perky and busty tits. He didn’t speak to you much but only admired you from the sidelines. In fact you probably only spoke to him once and that’s when you started attending the church getting to know everyone.

Mark prefers to be mysterious and watch you from afar where you don’t realise he is actually watching you.

That day when you left with that white dress on, something within him has snapped. It’s been a good long few months since you moved into the area now. Probably five months or more. Mark couldn’t help but follow you that day when you left. It was very out of character for him. Mark knew he shouldn’t just follow you to your house and just watch you get home. He said to himself ‘I’m just following Y/n so she can get home safe, yeah.’ But that would also be half truth and half a lie. He just wanted to stare and admire you for a little moment. He wanted to know what area you actually live in: which turns out you don’t live too far from the church. You are down the road it seems.

And that’s what started the faithful Christian’s obsession with you. Mark’s obsession began the moment you wore that pretty white dress to church, and every Sunday whenever the church service ends he follows you home. Every Sunday. Every time he would follow you back home. You never seem to notice either and Mark starts to believe you’re not that great at self awareness. He took pleasure in following you and watching you when you aren’t aware of it. It’s like something within his heart was searching for that thrill, the adrenaline rush of stalking you and admiring you.

This went on for weeks and weeks. Sometimes even months. Mark never knew he would be so infatuated by seeing you walk home from church. Sometimes Mark even wonders when he goes home later in the week what you’re doing. At this point Mark has memorised your Sunday schedule off by heart. He never knew this could bring him such happiness to be close to you. Even though he can’t bring himself to speak to you because you’re shining alone in your own light.

He was afraid of messing up. He didn’t know how to approach you. In fact Mark never knows how to approach girls but you’re different from the other girls he knows. You’re a fair, beautiful, modest and humble. You’re mature and as well as religious. Mark knows that people who are devoted to their religion cannot be approach the normal way and so, Mark is fine with being in the sideline shadows watching you. He saw you come to your step and open the door unlocking it. Somehow Mark saw you forgot to lock the door it looks like you’re search for something. He couldn’t help but smile a little.

The urge to go in was there, so he follows it.

It wouldn’t hurt right? To go inside your house unannounced without you knowing it. Only for a minute, Mark said. He can allow a minute inside your house because he was getting greedy. He wonders what the inside of your house actually was like. When he enters it he wanders around the living room.

Mark can hear you in the kitchen actually, you seem to be shuffling the black trash bag. It seems like it was pretty big and you struggled. He would offer to help you but it looks like you can handle it and plus — he wouldn’t want to get himself caught.

It was pretty dark already. Mark couldn’t help but think you didn’t even notice anything strange of someone coming inside her house. Like you must really have some slow self awareness. He wonders if you’re just slow or maybe you trust the world too much.

‘There are some pretty weird guys out there Y/n…’ Mark thought deeply as he shakes his head. He would scold you and tell you to not leave the door open like this even if it was for a second and you’d be back to close it.

Furthermore the obsessive curiosity about wanting to get to know you more has irked some wrongful convictions. Heading up the stairs when you were in the downstairs bathroom, Mark took his time snooping around your bedroom now. Your bedroom smelled exactly how he imagined it to smell. Smell of you. It kills him knowing you sleep here where you are all alone without him because he has the deep feelings to hold you but he cannot do that. He doesn’t even speak to you. If anything Mark is pretty much all in knowing you would not feel the same way. Mark took this moment to heart observing your beautiful decorated room.

Fair lights were hung out against the windows and your bed frame. Your double bed looks so soft like a floating cloud in middle of nowhere in this space. You have a giant wardrobe and that instantly excites Mark. He saw that pretty white dress, and your shirts and tank tops. Mark took his time exploring your wonderful clothes. Some of them look so small on your nice curvy figure. You’re shaped like a hourglass and he freaking loves it.

Mark takes his time not to think of you so much like this. He doesn’t want to be known for only looking and staring at you because of your beautiful body and appearance no, he really likes you on the inside too. If anything Mark’s feeling were a form of an attachment because of your character and not your traits.

But when he came across your cupboard where you keep all your lingerie Mark feels something growing inside him. Something so dark and uncontrollable.

He didn’t know what to do when the sight of your beautiful perky bras were in front of him. They smell of wonderful vanilla and laundry washing. It was so soft and the smell was overwhelming like the starting of spring season upon the winter. It dissolved into his nostrils the more he brings the bra forward and he touched it.

Mark wanted to die of embarrassment honestly. He saw what he was doing. He was becoming a perv. He was perving on you in your own house and you don’t even know he was inside your bloody house but a part of him was even more thrilled somehow. Because you don’t know any of this was happening. Mark grew more and more undeniably into you. He grow stronger, his feelings for you grew even more and Mark cannot hold back when the pairs of panties he opens up to look at them. It was the final straw. Your panties. He takes the one that took his eyes most. A pair of innocent white panties. The soft fabric melts in his hands and he brings it back up to his face. The guy who wasn’t meant to be here in this place anyways, was now sniffing your panties like it was all he was created for. Mark groans against the fabric. He could just imagine them on you and it makes him grow by the thought down below.

Your name was running through his mind. He was just so obsessed with you at this point if you’re not his Mark doesn’t know what he will do. The way his nostrils flare when your scent mixing in with the laundry detergent makes him feral. Mark was a feral beast under the disguise of such a loyal respectful young man he shows himself to there told. Deep down he was a lustful sinner, just for you. Mark never thought that he was so unlucky to be a human. You’re wearing these panties everyday. He wished he could be the one you wear him around like this, Mark just wants to be so close to you that he’s under your skin. It was such a weird thought. But he’s always been into these weirdly true metaphors. He enjoys poetry, because you are poetry itself to him and his eyes. Mark should thank God for creating you.

Maybe you’re the one for him, Mark thought. Maybe you’re the one he was meant to be with and Mark pleads it is you. Because if another guy was with you that was not him, Mark doesn’t think he can accept that reality as real.

When the footsteps approach the door Mark was so caught up in his horny-thoughts because he was sniffing and caressing your panties while at the same time he has gotten pretty hard on for it. He almost forgot where he was. Your house. The man flinched to the nearest closet and stays hidden between the many jackets and clothes. Luckily it was dark but he could see a peak of light slap against Mark’s eyes. He was glad he could see you walk in. The minute you came into his view as he was hidden in your closet unaware of your complete knowledge; he smiles seeing your beautiful long hair and your legs and thighs. You wore such pretty tight shorts on at home. He never once thought to his living days he would see you wear this much less clothes on. He was not complaining at all. It’s already bad because Mark has your panties in his hands still. He happened to take them with him and he’s pretty rock hard in his jeans.

What happened next blows Mark’s mind. The guy only looks away for a second. Only a second and you’re on your bed spread nicely with your legs wide open. He never thought he would get to see this either but this truthfully shocks him. Mark is seeing you strip yourself off your clothes — he saw your bare back first which was enough to have him sweating in the closet as he was peaking at you. Your shorts slipped off the ground and you turned on your laptop. He could hear a few good moans coming from the video you’re watching.

Mark couldn’t believe it. He’s watching you pleasure yourself on your bed wide legs open with you pretty pussy out. He saw the way your hands were skilfully pressing on your clit teasing it. You look hella frustrated he won’t lie but Mark couldn’t agree more he wished he could be right there to eat you out. To lick you clean and clean you out off your frustrations. Mark wished it was him between your legs and not your poor hand now because you’re flicking your fingers forward and pushing your pelvis up for more freedom and pressure. The moans on the videos got louder but Mark was only paying attention to you.

You were with all his attention on.

“I never knew you’d have such a slutty side to you, Y/n. What else are you hiding underneath that good girl façade?”

He whispers to himself barely audible for anyone else. It was just words for himself and you were too busy to even hear him because your moans were overlapping with the video you’re watching with your eyes. You struggle and squirm now as your fingers became a faster pace for your clit to take even all the abuse you’re inflicting on it. Mark watches you intensely. He could tell you’re enjoying this so much, even though it must be very lonely for you, Mark enjoys watching you masturbate right in front of him and so he couldn’t handle it. The sounds of your moans were tempting him to do sin. Mark without any second thoughts he unbuckles the jeans and slips it off to the ankles letting his boxers fall down too. Mark tried his best to get a good view with his eyes on the peak on the closer. The darkness makes it hard to see the light. However he managed to get a good view again of your beautiful pink pussy that looks so wet and he likes to assume it’s dripping just for him.

He imagines what he could do. The stuff he’d do to you when he was there. If he was there pleasuring you. He would make sure you’d never forget the moment if he ever had the opportunity to pleasure you, Mark would make sure it’s one you cannot move from.

He was greedy and he was getting greedier by the sight of you in front of him. Mark slowly strokes his long hard length now to the sounds you’re making. The feeling of your walls fluttering open when your fingers curl inside you. You have on your mind a lot of things and these things aren’t something you can share with other people. You want to be fucked. It’s simple but it’s a lot harder because you cannot find the pleasure you’re seeking. You want to tell yourself to surpass this side out of you. However it gets stronger the more you ignore it. You arch yourself when you push out your hips now, they practical hump the air around it with force of your hips shoving out and your fingers continue to abuse your swollen clit.

Mark is clutching on his tip rubbing down the slit like it is a gown of sorts. He was watching you become a spilling mess. The gentle spillage of your water but you’re not exactly cumming yet. Mark can tell you are edging yourself because you don’t want this to end as soon as possible. You must be really frustrated. Mark wonders what goes inside that head of yours. He always thought you were someone who didn’t have these urges even though it was human nature to he strongly believed you had none of those. Mark wasn’t sure why. Maybe it’s because he only sees you at Church. He doesn’t necessarily know you well enough to speak to you. But he does like you a lot.

This crush he has on you is something more than a crush but at the same time it’s still a pretty new thing he’s experiencing. Mark never once went in a house that he wasn’t invited to and watched a girl get herself off. Never.

But he was glad it’s you. Mark can’t help but push down his hand even more in the length. Soon enough the two of you were pleasuring each other with the sounds. However, you were watching the screen of your laptop instead. Mark was wishfully watching you wanting to be inside you so bad. The sight of your pussy looking so tempting. As if it is taunting him to just fuck you right there and come out of the closet. But he knew he can’t do that.

He can’t explain himself to you if he was in your closet like this. You would definitely never want to see him again.

The panties he kept with him, Mark licks and smells them. He works his way with his tongue between the slant of your panties. They smell so good. They smell of you.

He loves them so much Mark doesn’t think he can give them back to you anymore.

Your eyes roll back from the pleasure when it became clear that you’re no longer able to hold back. He took the sign to faster his hands on his giant rock hard cock. Mark moves the hands against the slit and pushed down the thumb. He caressed himself quickly while he’s watching you so intensely now. Mark held in his hitch voice just so he could not get caught by the pleasuring noises he was having and making. Instead he just focused on your itching voice piercing the room by echos of your moans.

You sound heavenly when you’re panting after you finally orgasm. Mark could not put this moment above anything because this was one of the most pulsing and best orgasms he had. He lets out a wispy groan, “Y/n….” Mark came right on with you on his hand. There was a lot of seed in his palm. Mark never comes this big of a batch. He was surprised but this was thanks to you.

He saw the trembling thighs of yours as you close them holding your own sex as you roll over with a pausing high pitch moan. He loves when you’re stimulating yourself to the point you couldn’t touch your own clit again without flinching and letting out a pained out wince.

It’s attractive to see you torture yourself with the overwhelming amount of pleasure.

Mark was worried now, he just knew from the moment on this wasn’t going to be just a mere crush he has on you.

How will he confess to God what he has witnessed? Even if he did tell what he did was wrong. Mark loved it so much, he wouldn’t go back to change it. If he went back to the past — he would do it all over again…

Now he knew for sure,,

This is the beginning of the Sin & Obsession he has on you…

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@onyourhyuck please refer from translating copyrighting and plagiarising my work thank youu <3 Reblog this fic and follow me for more it helps a girl out.

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vivwritesfics · 3 months

Text

This'll Be The Day That I Die

Chapter Two - Kegger

JJ doesn't want her, not until somebody else wants her. That somebody else just so happens to be Rafe Cameron

JJ Maybank X Reader, Rafe Cameron X Reader

1.3K

Warnings: Mention of drugs

Chapter One

When she was a girl, she remembered the older kids in the Outer Banks throwing a kegger. She and John B. would watch from the Château as the older Pogues, Kooks and Tourons drank themselves silly in the boneyard.

One day that would be them, they both thought as they watched the party commence. But then she left to live with her mother.

When the Pogues later threw keggers, with John B. instigating the fun, he didn't think of his cousin. He didn't thinking about how this was something they were meant to do together.

But now that she was here, John B. suddenly remembered the conversations they would watch when they were ten.

Things had been different back then. They were both Pogues through and through. But now things were different. John B. was the biggest Pogue of them all. Living rogue, not caring about anything and anyone but him and his friends.

She was different. She wasn't a Pogue anymore. She was essentially a Touron now. Where she was once one of them, she wasn't anymore.

But she was back in The Cut now. In no time at all she'd be a Pogue once again. Just the same as them.

JJ and John B. carried the keg between them. They led the group on their way down to the boneyard, with Y/N bringing up the rear. Her hands were in the pockets of her shorts, kicking at the sand as she followed. A kegger was the last thing she'd wanted right now. As a kid she couldn't wait to join the keggers at the boneyard, but now she wanted nothing more than to go back to the chateau and go to sleep.

They set down the keg and John B. fixed her a drink. She smiled as she took it but the smile didn't reach her eyes. "Have a seat," said John B. "More people will turn up soon."

The rest of the Pogues got drinks and, just like John B. said, more people turned up. Pogues, Kooks and Tourons. John B. and JJ handed drinks to whoever approached them and Kie and Pope began mingling.

Sarah sat herself down beside Y/N. "Hey," she said, offering her a polite smile. "I'm Sarah."

They'd already been introduced somewhat awkwardly by John B. and she appreciated this. "Y/N," she said, smiling back. This one seemed more genuine. "So, when did you start hanging around with this eyes?" She asked, pointing a finger between her cousin and his friends.

Sarah shrugged her shoulders and sipped from her red solo cup. "Last summer," she answered. "We had a kinda crazy summer," she said with a laugh.

"With John B. that doesn't surprise me," she replied and finished her drink. "What's up with JJ? He hasn't said one thing to me since I came back."

"Oh you're gonna have to ask JJ about that. Were you guys close before you left?" Asked Sarah.

She nodded her head. "He was my best friend."

***

Rafe Cameron didn't normally crash the keggers the Pogues through at the boneyard. They were beneath him, childish in comparison to the kind of things he did.

But Topper was still obsessed with his sister, still in disbelief that a Pogue had stolen Sarah away from him. Any party they threw, Rafe found himself there, white powder dusting his nose as a way of coping.

He looked around the boneyard. There was nothing there to interest him. Kook girls were stuck up and boring, and Pogue girls were... don't get him started.

He walked to the keg for a drink. "Rafe."

"Pogue."

He snatched the red cup away from him and walked away. The music was meh and the constant chatter was annoying. This might have been one of Rafe's worst nightmares.

Rafe looked around for the familiar face of his sister. He didn't care about her, wasn't looking around to see if she was okay, just wanted to see if Topper was nearby, and if he was ready to leave.

The first thing he saw was the back of Sarah's head. It was undeniably her though. Looked around her, looked for any sign of Topper. But he was nowhere to be seen. Topper wouldn't dare leave without him, Rafe knew that.

Suddenly, he wasn't looking at Sarah. No, he was looking at the girl sat beside Sarah, the one looking past her, staring right at him. They locked eyes for just a moment, but that was enough for Rafe.

He watched as she said something to Sarah, stood and stretched her arms up. She walked past her, wordlessly walked around JJ and Pope, heading to the water.

Rafe stood, not caring much when he knocked over his drink. He brushed the powder from his nose, shoved his hands into his pockets, and headed towards the water. He didn't make a noise, his steps obviously silent in the sand. As he walked, he watched her toe off her shoes, pull off her socks and step into the water.

"You're seriously friends with the Pogues?"

She turned quickly to look at him. "Am I friends with them? I... I honestly don't know," she said. The waves her gentle against her ankles.

"You're new here, aren't you?" Rafe asked. She was gorgeous, he realised as she looked at him. "I'm Rafe."

"Sarah's brother, right?"

Rafe's face fell. "You've heard of me."

But her smile was still kind as she looked at him. "Pope mentioned you, but not much more than that. I'm Y/N," she said, holding her hand towards him.

The way she was looking at him, she had no idea who he was. She had no idea the things he had done. If she did, she wouldn't have been looking at him with such kind eyes. She would have been running for the hills if she knew who he was.

But Rafe took her hand and shook it. "If you're looking for something fun to do, you should ditch the Pogues and come hang with me," he said.

"You got a phone number or something?" She asked, still holding her hand out towards him.

Rafe fished his phone from his pocket. He hesitated before putting it into her hands. Rafe Cameron didn't get anxious; he couldn't explain what he was feeling when she held his phone above the water. He resisted keeping his hands under it, ready to catch it.

"There," she said, handing it back to him. "Now we can hang out."

From the keg, John B. Routledge put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. "Y/N!" He called. When she looked towards him, he beckoned her over.

"I better head back," she said, pointing her thumbs towards her cousin. "It was really nice to meet you, though."

"You too," Rafe said. He watched as she grabbed her shoes and socks, and headed back over to the Pogues. Who on earth was she?"

Y/N headed back to the Pogues. She turned just once to look at Rafe as he still stood by the water. He too was watching her go, and she couldn't stop from smiling at him.

Maybe it would be nice to hang out with somebody else, she thought as she walked over to them. Besides, the one person she had been looking forward to seeing didn't want anything to do with her. He could barely look at her.

She had no idea what she was getting herself into.

Permanent Taglist: @urfavnoirette

Series Taglist: @aragingbisexual21 @f-i-z-z-ypops

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bimobuddy · 3 months

Text

Feeling Better

Hazbin TK fic

Lee!Alastor, Lers! Husk and Niffty

Everything in this fic is platonic

Soft and caring Husk :]

CW: Alastor in the bath, but everything is covered and nothing NSFW happens, angst as per usual in my fics at this point, mention of blood, mention of scars and past trauma (brief)

Spoilers

Summary: Alastor, while quite the dapper gentlemen, smells like swamp and deer carcass, as that is what his bedroom is. After some back and forth, his companions decide to take it upon themselves to take care of the issue (and take care of him)

Edit: I dont think this was my best work

It was no secret that Alastor wasn't the cleanest person. He turned his bedroom into a swamp to feel more at home, and often left blood stains from his meals on his suit, leaving it to rot and smell.

However, what many people didn't know, is that he also wasn't the best at keeping up with hygiene. Something that only Husk and Niffty knew about him was that he despised bathing. They didn't know why, they just knew that he did.

And they put up with it.. For as long as they could.

As Alastor sat at the bar, Husk found himself scrunching up his nose. To be polite, he made sure no one was listening first, then he turned to his boss, ears down. "Jesus, Al, when's the last time you bathed?" The radio host stared at Husk, trying to intimidate him, but for once, Husk wasn't budging. "I'm serious, Alastor. Not only does it reek, but I'm sure you don't feel good either. Right?"

This caught him off guard. He wasn't used to people other than Charlie showing him genuine concern. His smile remained as normal, but the folding of his ears seemed to give away how he was feeling. "I'll admit it has.. been a while."

Husk nodded and leaned against the counter. "Then maybe you should do something about it?" He asked, raising a brow. The other demon seemed to go quiet. Husk studied him, as if trying to read his mind. "Maybe... We can do something about it then? Niff and I?"

As if summoned by the mere mention of her name, Niffty appeared out of seemingly nowhere, hopping up onto the counter. "You know you can trust us, Alastor! I like cleaning!" She grinned.

"And you know I'm not going to judge or tell anyone." Husk said, looking him in the eye. Alastor thought it over for a moment. Niffty and Husk were two out of a small select group of people he genuinely trusted the most. "Fine." He shrugged, trying to make it appear as if there wasn't a growing sense of unease and anxiety sinking into his stomach.

Husk nodded. "Niffty, why don't you go ahead and go run the bath for Al. Use my room, I don't trust that he even has a tub in his." Niffty gave a quick salute then hopped down from the counter, running off.

Husk turned his attention back to Alastor, lowering his voice. "Is there a reason you don't like bathing, Al?" He asked, catching the demon off guard. "Why Husker, what makes you ask such a silly little-" "Don't think you can fool me, I saw the way you froze earlier. Al, you might own my soul, and you might scare the shit out of me sometimes, but I don't hate you," this surprised Alastor, "I'm only asking so I know how to go about this properly. If there's something about it that bothers you, I don't want to force you into it."

Alastor looked back at Husk for a solid minute, thinking it over. He stood suddenly and started to walk toward the hallway, where Husk's room was, signaling the other to follow, which he did. Once they were alone, Alastor finally spoke.

"What I'm about to tell you does not leave that silly little kitty mouth of yours, understood? If I find out that-" "You have my word, Alastor, you don't have to threaten it out of me." ".....Right. Well- Thank you.. Husk."

It wasn't often that Alastor used his actual name instead of 'Husker,' but when he did, the cat felt a sense of equality between them. No longer 'Owner of Soul and Servant,' but like they knew each other. All the more reason he decided to take this issue seriously, for Alastor.

"While I was alive, let's just say I've been through a lot. In my life, over many years, and many incidents, I acquired many scars. Reminders. Let's just say I do not enjoy them. I hated them, and hated looking at them. I assume that is why fate decided they would stick with me even in the afterlife." There was a moment of silence before Husk replied, "They make you feel vulnerable again. They remind you of those.. incidents.. Don't they?"

Alastor didn't verbally respond, but the glance he gave him confirmed to Husk that he may have been correct about this. Husk nodded. "You can trust us, Al."

As they stepped into Husk's room, they noticed just how much effort Niffty had put into this. She had drawn a bath, filled it with bubbles, already gotten a towel ready, and fresh new clothes for Alastor, folded neatly by the sink. As the Radio Host looked closer, he noticed some of the holes and tears had been mended.

"Wow, Niff, I'm impressed." Husk said, taking his hat off. Another sign that this wasn't between co-workers, but friends. His hair was slicked back as usual, though Alastor hadn't seen it like that since the day he won his soul.

When Husk looked back at Alastor, he noticed the look in his eye, his posture, everything. The look of 'I am trying very hard to be okay with this.'

Husk gave him a slight nod before turning to Niffty. "Why don't we give him some space real quick, alright?" He turned to Alastor. "Go ahead and get yourself ready in the bathroom, we'll be right out here." As he walked past the deer demon, he lowered his voice again, "We won't leave you."

Alastor stepped into the bathroom and shut the door, letting out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He did deep down truly appreciate how supportive Husk and Niffty were being, it did help him feel less.. anxious about everything. Though he also no longer felt like an overlord. He felt like a kid again. The constant reassurance, the sudden comfort and concern he was being shown.. It reminded him of his mother. It was hard to describe, but if he had to, he would have said he felt 'weak, but in a way that was okay with him.'

He got himself ready and sat himself in the bath, the heat of the water somehow immediately helping him relax more than he thought it would. He was grateful for the bubbles as well, not only did it cover him, but he wasn't able to see his scars that much.

There was a gentle knock, then Husk's voice. "Al?" Wanting to at least pretend he still had control, he replied, "Enter."

Husk opened the door and before he even got a full step in, Niffty darted in, grabbed Alastor's discarded clothes and then ran back out, fussing about the blood stains under her breath.

"... Alright, well while she goes and does whatever it is she's decided she's going to do, I'll get started, if that's okay with you." Husk said, shutting the door behind him. Alastor nodded. It did feel odd to him to have someone elss in the room, but he reminded himself that he could trust the bartender.

As Husk stepped closer, he did catch a glimpse of a couple scars, littered across his skin. He didn't mention them, instead grabbing a rag nearby that Niffty had left out. "I know you don't like being touched, so I'm warning you beforehand that I'm about to, so you don't kill me. Satan knows Niffty would fuss at you over the mess." He said, trying to lighten the mood a little. Though Alastor didn't laugh, his grin did widen slightly, indicating that it had worked.

Husk dampened the cloth and got started, touching it to Alastor's back. As the radio demon jumped a little and suddenly gripped the sides of the tub, he paused, gave him time to calm back down, and continued. He knew he could have laughed at him, teased him for being such a powerful demon scared of something as small as a bath, but he didn't. He wouldn't. Because he understood. Sure, he was a feared overlord, rivaling with the King of Hell himself, but before that, he was a person.

A person that, surprisingly, he had come to understand and even care about. As Alastor suddenly jolted again, letting out a sudden ring of static, Husk thought it was due to him being anxious again, only to see his shoulders shaking a little bit.

At first, he worried that Alastor either was in pain or had started crying (a thought that really concerned him), but as he looked down, he noticed he had the rag placed on the back of his ribs, and that Alastor was arching away from the touch. Now this was something he could tease him about.

"Ticklish, kid?" He grinned, making a point to wiggle his fingers through the rag, making Alastor do the radio feedback noise again. "I-I'm oholder thahan you, you ahabsolute-" "Yeah but you died younger than I did, I'm more of an adult than you are."

Alastor opened his mouth to argue, but Husk had already slipped the rag under his right arm, wiggling his claws through the thin fabric. The radio demon slammed his arm down, trying hard to keep it together. He shook with contained laughter, his grin wide and wobbly, ears pinned back. He was doing quite well until Husk suddenly skittered his claws along the back of his neck.

He scrunched his nose up and broke, giggling hysterically, reflexively kicking a leg out, causing a bit of water to splash over the side. "Hey," Husk playfully scolded, "Keep it together down there, you know Niffty is gonna chastise you about that later." "My floor!"

Husk and Alastor jumped, the latter accidentally letting out more mic feedback, as both startled at the sudden sound of Niffty. Neither had seen or heard her enter the bathroom. She huffed, hands on her hips. "You boys. Always giving me more work." She shook her head, hopping up on a stool left by the tub so she could reach Alastor.

"I swear she appears whenever her name is mentioned, did you do that when you got her soul?" Husk whispered. Alastor shook his head, his eyes showing he was just as freaked out as Husk was.

Niffty ignored them, filling a cup with water. "Ears," was all the warning she gave before she dumped it over the deer's head, giving him a split second to fold his ears back to protect them from the water. Husk had to bite back a chuckle as Alastor's hair fell into his face, covering his eyes. He almost resembled a grumpy, wet dog. He reached up and pushed his hair from his eyes, looking slightly annoyed, but Husk knew he had all the patience in the world when it came to Niffty. She could get away with anything.

Even when she started to work in the shampoo, scritching behind his ears. Alastor visibly tensed up, his cheeks turning pink (something Husk had never seen him do). The cat grinned at him, leaning on the edge of the tub. "Your ears are ticklish too?" He chuckled.

As muffled, staticky snickers bubbled out of the overlord, Niffty just smiled. "Husk, dont tease him when you're worse." This shut him up quickly, Husk pinning his own ears back grumbling. Alastor would have laughed at him, had he not already been fighting it back so hard.

When Niffty started to gently scritch at the base of his ears, he started to crack more, giggling louder, yet it was clear he was trying to sit still for her. "Pff- Hmph.. M-Mhmhmhmhm- hahahaha nohoho!" His eyes flew open to glare at Husk, who had picked the rag up to start at the other side of his ribs now, under his left arm.

Alastor's ears were flicking from Niffty's tickling, as he gripped Husk's wrist, more just to have something to ground himself rather than to push him away.

Husk gently scrubbed lower down his side, earning higher giggles before Alastor gasped and flinched away. He hadn't been hurt, but Husk knew it more him trying to avoid getting hurt before it actually happened. The slash he had gotten from Adam was still healing. "Relax, Bucky, I'm not gonna hit it." Husk said.

"Don't call me Bu-hahahaha!" He had gotten cut off when Husk simply switched to his other side.

"Ears." Niffty warned before immediately pouring water over his head again. Alastor coughed a little before lifting his bangs again. "Careful, Niff, don't drown him." Husk chuckled, giving him a break to catch his breath.

As Niffty hopped down off the stool, Husk tossed the rag to Alastor for him to get his own legs, making a joke about how 'I know neither of us want me reaching down there.'

Husk took a seat on the stool as Niffty ran back in with a jar. "What's that?" Husk questioned. "Hoof polish!" She grinned. Alastor let a quiet growl escape his throat, though it was more out of embarrassment than anger, making the cat laugh a little. "As funny as that would be Niffty, I don't think we need it. I'm not pampering his spoiled ass more than I have to." She nodded and ran back out of the room.

"I couldn't help but notice," Husk started, "That you didn't try very hard to get away from the ticklin', especially around your ears." He smirked. Alastor just threw a soft glare his way and didnt confirm nor deny anything.

Once Alastor was done, Husk turned his head away and handed him a towel, before leaving the bathroom to leave him to it.

Alone once again, Alastor took a moment to take in just how much better he felt. Not only physically, but mentally. In the past, bathing would drain him of his energy, leaving him mentally exhausted. But this time he felt better than ever. He looked over at his newly mended suit, patched up by Niffty.

She didn't have to do that.. But she did. Because she looked up to Alastor and cared for him. And Husk didn't have to sit with him the entire time and help him. But he did. Because he saw him as a friend.

He got dressed and left the bathroom, meeting Husk again in his bedroom. Husk's ear flicked as he heard the door open, and he looked up at Alastor. "Feeling better?" He asked.

Alastor walked past him, quickly scritching behind the cat's ears as he passed, earning a loud snort as his hand was batted away. "Much." He smiled, and headed back out to the lobby.

It may not have been a verbal 'thank you,' but Husk had gotten the message anyway.

#sfw tickling community #tickle community #tickle fic #hazbin hotel tickle #hazbin tickles #lee!alastor #ler!husk #ler!niffty

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