#the worms have fully taken over | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jasmines-library · 3 months

Note

Would it be too much to request a batsis oneshot, about her knowing how to cook😆 like whenever Alfred is not available he leaves her in charge to help ensure the other family members are eating without buring down the house🤭 also a lil thing u could add is she often visits the manor just to cook cuz Alfred always keeps the kitchen fully stocked with ingredients which means she can cook pretty much anything she desires💜 I just thought it'd be cute to have Bruce be envious of his daughters cooking skills whereas he lacks them🤭

Kitchen Antics

Thanks for requesting! This was cute to write!

Word Count: 1k

⛤ BATFAM MASTERLIST ⛤

“I still don’t think this is very fair.” Bruce pouted as you slid the plate in front of him.

“Hm?”

“This.” He gestured to the plate that you had served to him, piled to the brim. It had taken you hours to prepare, especially without Alfred’s help, but it was well worth it. “How come Alfred lets you cook and not me. I’m a fully grown adult. I should be allowed to cook a meal for my family.”

“Maybe it’s because you can’t actually cook.” You threw over your shoulder with a smug grin.

That earnt a snort from Damian which he hid poorly behind a hand. Bruce shot him an unamused look.

“Can too.” Bruce said. This time you raised a brow as you slid into your seat.

“Oh yeah, because the last time you cooked it turned out great.” Jason rolled his eyes.

You remember it distinctly. It was one of the first times Alfred was away and had reluctantly let Bruce use the kitchen. He had regretted it the moment he returned because his kitchen was hardly recognisable. And the food Bruce had cooked was less so. If you could even count it as food. It was the furthest thing from edible. Somehow undercooked and burnt to a crisp around the edges at the same time. Even Alfred wasn’t sure how he managed to do that, and he had seen almost everything when baking with the rest of your brothers. It was safe to say that Bruce was no longer allowed in the kitchen after that. So, the responsibility turned to you.

Alfred had always said you had a natural talent for cooking, though you swore it was because you had the best teacher: You had spent countless hours helping him when you were younger and you were the only person he didn’t seem to physically wince at when you walked into the kitchen. So, naturally when he announced he was leaving this week he entrusted you to make sure the family were fed without the entire manor being burnt down, or being filled with takeout boxes.

Your brothers had tried countless times to worm their way into the kitchen, but you ushered them out every time. They were just as bad as Bruce when it came to cooking. There was one time Damian and Dick had tried to bake a cake to surprise Bruce on his birthday. And it did…when the fire they had started nearly set the whole kitchen alight. Luckily Alfred had smelt it before any real damage could happen, but the pair of adults were far from happy. Jason had never shown much interest in cooking. He would usually just grab himself a snack from one of the cupboards instead of actually cooking himself something, so he had never really been an issue to keep out. Though, often he would try to sabotage your work just to wind you up. As for Tim, he was the best out of the four boys. By no means a master at work, it was often slightly bland but he was the only one who hadn’t tried to kill everyone with his cooking so he got bonus points for that.

“That was one time.” Bruce turned his head away, pouting like a small child.

“Tt. Father, I think you’ve tried to poison us every time you’ve gone near the kitchen.” Damian jested through a mouthful of food. “Perhaps you should ask Joker to try it. Might take a villain off of our hands.”

Tim stifled a laugh. “This is lovely, Y/N. Thank you.”

You smiled. “Thank you.”

The six of you fell into a comfortable silence as you ate, before Bruce finally spoke up again. Cutting through the sound of cutlery scraping against china plates.

“Is my cooking really that bad?”

He was answered with silence. And a lot of smirks.

“...Are you jealous of Y/N, Father?” Dick grinned.

“Psh…No.”

Bruce was a terrible liar.

“Do you need any assistance, Miss Y/N?” Alfred poked his head around the kitchen door. He had returned from his trip not too long ago, glad to see that everyone had been well fed and that the house was still in one piece.

Glancing up from the bowl of ingredients you were whisking, you met Alfred’s proud glance. “No thank you, Alfred. You already have everything I need.”

Alfred smiled up at you. It was nice for you to stop by once in a while to see them. He enjoyed seeing you cook. Better yet he enjoyed tasting your new creations each week so he kept everything stocked, even if he knew he wouldn’t need it himself. The shelves were lined with all sorts of spices, flours, sugars and ingredients for you to create something new so that if you ever decided to stop by (which you liked to do at least once a week) he would have everything you could ever need.

Your brothers loved it when you would bring over food to them too. Most of it would be gone in minutes and they would turn to you asking for more. Bruce would do the same too, although he would still have that look of teasing jealousy on his face. But he was proud really. And glad that at least one of his children had enough common sense to not set the entire manor alight when baking a cake.

BATFAM TAGLIST:

@aestheticdaisies

@hell-o-kittys

@xxrougefangxx

@mamapucket

@hearts4robs

@harleycao

670 notes · View notes

glasseffynity · 1 year

Text

HANDS-ON LEARNER ft. SPENCER REID, READER

Warnings: Fingering, masturbation (somewhat), praise (so much), sex in front of a mirror, mentions of insecurities + poor body image (reader), implied Afab reader, Dom!Spencer x Sub!Reader

Wc: 1,386

In all your years of living, you've never experienced humiliation quite as stark as this.

Fully exposed, legs spread wide, giving Spencer complete, unobstructed access to your core. Your legs are draped over his, allowing him to keep you from altering your position as his hand glides in and out of your center, thumb languidly tracing circles into your clit.

Your humiliation isn't derived from your albeit compromising position, no; Nor is it derived from the uncharacteristically lewd words softly tumbling from Spencer's lips, worming their way through your ear and into your brain; It isn't even the fact that you're spread out for him, completely bare, losing more of your composure by the second while he remains fully clothed and unbothered, save for the bulge growing in his pants. The source of your embarrassment, what makes you want to dig yourself into a hole and never come out, is the giant mirror placed in front of the both of you, forcing you to watch your own debauchment.

It isn't as though Spencer's intentions were at all sadistic; He holds a wealth of knowledge, not excluding that of the human anatomy, and what kind of a man would he be if he didn't extend his intelligence to his other half?

The work the two of you do leaves little time to unwind, to cope with the stress that inherently comes with tracking down some of the worst minds humanity had to offer. What little time you have away from work is usually spent sleeping, and even that's become a challenge. But you should've known your boyfriend wouldn't let you fall victim to the cruel grasps of insomnia, so he'd kindly taken it upon himself to assist you in your conquest to de-stress after a particularly tough case.

"It's honestly no surprise that studies have shown that approximately 21 percent of all Americans use masturbation as a way to de-stress," Spencer murmurs, his lithe fingers continuing to invade your cunt, eliciting yet another strained whimper from your lips as you observe his ministrations in the mirror. "Orgasms cause the brain to release Dopamine, which is primarily viewed as a "pleasure chemical", and Oxycotin, which brings on feelings of love and affection towards others." What you would normally consider irritating from anyone else will always be endearing in your eyes when coming from Spencer ; You've always known his rambles and statistics have come from a place of affection, to share all that he knows with the people that he cares so deeply about. And providing a more logical perspective to the mess gradually building between your thighs ebbs away a tad of the embarrassment, slightly dissipating your urge to bury your face in Spencer's chest and never come out.

Deciding it's time for you to aid in your own release, Spencer gently takes your hand, previously clenching onto his bicep, and drags it down to your clit, lightly rubbing circled into your center. The jolt it sends through you doesn't go unnoticed by Spencer, who merely chuckles and continues on as casually as he would if he was turning the page of his favorite book.

"What aids the most in de-stressing during an orgasm is the gradual shutdown of the Lateral Orbiofrontal Cortex, the part of the brain responsible for logic and decision-making; Deactivation of this part of the brain is also commonly associated with reductions in fear and anxiety," Spencer muses, continuing to drag your hand further down to the source of your wetness, pushing it deep into your hole. Your smaller hands don't quite reach as deep as Spencer's do, but with the right technique, he's confident they'll have the same effect. Pressing on your knuckles to get you to curl your fingers, Spencer continues to observe you in the mirror. "Beautiful." He doesn't mean to say it, likely doesn't even notice it, but the words send a pang straight to your core, and you involuntarily clench, which he does notice. Spencer doesn't bother asking if you liked that; He already knows what the answer would be, and you hardly seem coherent enough to answer. "What you're currently touching, judging by your expression, is your G-spot; formally known as the Grafenberg Spot, it's partially responsible for about 82 percent of orgasms in women, or any orgasms caused by something other than regular penetration." It's no wonder Spencer could so easily tell you'd reached your G-spot; You'd elicited a shaky gasp as you found it, your brows furrowing as your eyes rolled back. Any witty comments you might have made died on your tongue as Spencer resumed massaging you clit, adding to the already overwhelming stimulation.

Refusing to ease up on you, Spencer gently rests his head on your shoulder as he continues to observe the way you fall apart so stunningly; Amber eyes reflect nothing but admiration and adoration for you. This may be the first time you've aided in doing so, but Spencer has made you finish around his fingers enough times to know when you're nearing orgasm.

Admittedly becoming more lax on his original goal for you to watch the entirety of his actions, Spencer gently grips your chin with his free hand, turning your face to look at the mirror. Noticing you still advert your eyes from your reflection, he nuzzles his head further into your shoulder, hand dropping down to hug your waist. "I want you to watch," he asks softly, honeyed eyes pleading with you in the mirror. "I want you to see yourself the way I do, the way I always have." Any hesitance you have eases away as Spencer rubs circles into your waist, encouraging you to reach your end. Forcing yourself to meet your gaze in the mirror, you hold eye contact, even when what you see staring back at you makes you want to cringe, makes you want to look away, makes you want to hide yourself from the beautiful man who's sitting behind you, coaxing you ever so gently to finish. Even with insecurity looming at the back of your mind, you continue to massage your abused clit and prod at the spongey, raised lump within your core; Spencer remains ever-so-loyal by your side, softly encouraging you with murmurs of, "That's it," "'Atta girl," "Doing so good for me."

He's fully aware of your hesitancy when it comes to being accepting of yourself, always has been, and Spencer has always been more than willing to do whatever it takes to get you to become even slightly less adverse towards yourself, whether it be by sitting in between your legs for hours, lapping at your clit until you have to physically push him away, or pounding himself into you until you can barely remember your own name, much less any insecurity you may possess. And yet, his current method, despite the overwhelming amount of stimulation received by you, seems much more gentle, much more personal. Instead of a sole effort on his part to change your perception of yourself, he's given you an active role in it as well, allowing you to face your insecurities head-on while doing so.

Spencer may be determined in his pursuit of adjusting your attitude towards yourself, but he's still merciful; When your hand begins to tire, he gladly takes over, his long fingers picking up where you left off. Feeling your muscles begin to tense, his pace quickens, leaving no chance for your orgasm to fade. As you finally reach your peak, Spencer renews his grip on your chin, forcing you to watch yourself as you finish. He could watch you cum a thousand times and it would never be any less breath-taking: Your brow furrowed, plush lips forming an O, eyes fluttering back into your head; You're truly a work of art in Spencer's eyes.

As the euphoria fades and your mind becomes clear again, your muscles give out; Thankfully, Spencer, ever the gentleman, is there to catch you. "Don't give out on me just yet, Sweetheart," he jokes, eyeing your lips as he holds your hips, keeping you sitting up. "Wasn't planning on it," You respond, reaching up for a quick peck to his lips. Spencer has other plans though, deepening the kiss as his arms wrap around your waist.

"Good, because I have plenty more to teach you."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #spencer reid x you #This gif will always hold a special place in my heart he just looks so soft

1K notes · View notes

abstractnaturaldisaster · 8 days

Text

is it over now? (was it over then?)

part five

part six: with the wilt of the rose

With the success of Eddie's Steve single as his bandmates had started to call it, the label had basically told Corroded Coffin in no uncertain terms to channel that energy into the rest of their album. It wasn't that Eddie didn't like the attention his song was getting and Steve absolutely deserved it, the lying piece of shit, but it was like getting permission to write angsty music about Steve took all the fun out of it. He was fully out of inspiration of the angst variety and had taken a hard left turn into moping, feeling sorry for himself, and being one thousand percent convinced that he was going to be single for the rest of his life and die alone.

Eddie was reclining in his giant beanbag chair (his nest as Steve used to joke with him), occasionally humming lines, strumming on his guitar, and writing more and more pathetically dramatic lyrics for most of the day until he reached his limit and pulled out his phone. It wasn't like Eddie was purposefully keeping track of people in Steve's life but over the time they were together his little gaggle of gremlins wormed his way into Eddie's life too. Unfortunately when he opened his phone it was to tweets of Dustin going low key feral over Steve's new role in some indie biopic but at the same time being crazy upset that Steve would be incommunicado as Dustin so helpfully added in his tweet. The kid was such a dweeb. Eddie flicked out of twitter and opened instagram hoping that his feed would be mostly possum memes. He scrolled idly for a while seeing new tattoo ideas and of course many cute furry animals doing many silly things until suddenly he was reminded of a particular face Steve made and Eddie (although he would never admit this) searched for Steve's public profile only a little disappointed that he hadn't posted anything more recent than when the two were together.

Because Eddie may or may not be a massive masochist and can't leave well enough alone, he decides to tab over to Steve's tagged pictures to see if there is anything recent. In between several tags of Steve being unfairly good looking in whatever movie he was currently filming, Eddie was taken aback by a post that was just of Robin and Nancy. They looked a little closer than just gal pals or whatever it was the tabloids called them while speculating how they could be friends while "fighting" over Steve. So much for modern feminism.

Before Eddie got distracted enough to go through a full rant that might include a fairly long section about how Ronnie was treated differently than the rest of his bandmates, Eddie focused back on the issue at hand. Why was Nancy who he highly suspected of stealing his fucking boyfriend posing like she was getting engaged to Steve's best friend. And why did they fucking tag him it it? Robin was snarky sure but she didn't seem like that level of bitch. Eddie took a deep breath and opened the fairly lengthy caption to see:

nancywheeler Hello World! It's been a long time coming but I am so excited to publicly announce that me and Robin (@buckster) are going steady. I know I don't post a whole lot about my person life on here (seriously, the rest of the world is so much more exciting) but you've always been so supportive of my coming out and sexuality related posts as well as understanding when I needed to set a boundary between my personal life and my online persona. I've been unable to share my most recent relationship for a really long time because of the public pressure of coming out and being a "marketable asset." Steve (@sharrington) could not have been a better support during this time and took a lot of public flak to keep Robin and I safe and comfortable until we were ready to be out publicly. He always offered up his home while I was visiting and kept me company while Robin was working. I guess us bi guys have to stick together, huh? Anyways, that's all for now. And no, we aren't engaged (yet 😈)

Eddie was floored. He had spent all his time since leaving Steve's apartment feeling very holier than thou and smug about everything that happened with Steve and the success his band was experience because of it. Although if one Miss Nancy Wheeler was telling the truth (which like as a journalist Eddie thinks she has to), Steve was actually helping his platonic soulmate find love with his exgirlfriend. If Eddie hadn't already felt kind of shitty for assuming the worst about Steve, this had to take the fucking cake. Eddie was truly done for. Put a fork in him. He's the worst person ever. Fuck. He needed reinforcements.

devilededs: uhm hi friends, i think maybe i am the asshole in the whole steve situation can u come to mine?

ronnie: you saw it? i can finally give you shit about being a total drama queen?

devilededs: what do you mean? why would you not tell me if you knew it existed.

ronnie: precisely because of this vibe right now.

devilededs: okay, everyone but ronnie pls come over i need snacks and maybe some really b grade horror but you have to indulge me in my sadness.

garbear: already on the way with your emotional support jeff and frank. we'll pick up snacks.

ronnie: if you let me problem solve for you can i come for snacks? i don't think i can handle moping eddie without trying to show you its very fixable.

devilededs: YES! FIX! ME! HOW! GET OVER HERE!

Eddie flopped back into the beanbag chair and let his notebook flop out of his lap. Thankfully his friends all had keys so he could continue to rot in place until Ronnie forcibly withdrew him from his hovel.

part seven

@lololol-1234 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zombiethingy @grtwdsmwhr @dreamercec @anne-bennett-cosplayer @strawberryyyenthusiast @mensch-anthropos-human @kal-ology @ttyrussss @kristmkris @starman-jpg @wonderland-girl143-blog @child-of-cthulhu @legalmenace87 @adealwithher @practicallybegging @lunaraquaenby @stripey82 @lexyvey @goodolefashionedloverboi @mothmamhasyourlocation @mugloversonly (if you wanna be tagged in future parts feel free to comment! happy to add people)

#steve x eddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #steddie #don't worry robin will fix it #angst #angst with a happy ending #rockstar eddie #actor steve #was it over then ficlet

120 notes · View notes

faerunnn · 8 months

Text

Memories

(GIF found Here! :D )

Hello, so i am back. With something a lil angsty, a lil fluffy. You guys should know the drill by now. Please let me know your thoughts :D

Astarion x Fem!Reader

Wordcount: 2464

It has been quite some time since the battle of Baldur's Gate. You all went your separate ways, occasionally catching up with one another but as time and lives went on, slowly drifting more apart. Everyone was slowly finding the lives they wanted to live. Some moved away from the city, wanting to forget it all. Some stayed around. Including you. Baldur's gate was the only place you ever truly was able to call home. And while your wanderlust had taken you to many places, you always found your way back to the city.

You sometimes wondered how the others were doing. Wandering what could have been, wondering what was never meant to be. You miss your old companions sometimes. But their happiness was what kept you smiling when thinking back on your adventures. There was barely any room for heartache when everyone got what they wanted. Everyone but you.

After the battle against the Elder brain you and Astarion never fully established what it was that the two of you had. The connection that was shared. There was something there, for sure. But the both of you being too stubborn to talk about it, acknowledge it. That same stubbornness led to the both of you drifting apart. Slowly but surely, until you stopped hoping that he might show up at your doorstep. Stopped visiting his place, stopped meeting at the usual spots. Your pride got in the way of your happiness, once again. The one time you felt like you truly had met your equal. A ‘’soulmate’’, if those were even real. You beat yourself up about for a while, until time got in the way.

It has been over a year since you last saw each other. And it wasn't until tonight that you went back to one of the taverns you and your companions would occasionally meet to catch up. You rather not go there but some of your co-workers insisted you’d tag along for a drink after a very long work day. And it had been a long day indeed. You wanted to just go home, take a bath and curl up in your sheets and sleep for days. But one drink couldn't hurt, right?

The party all gathered outside of the office and you all walked toward the familiar pub. A whiff of alcohol and sweat already hit your nose as you got closer. It must be a busy night. Maybe a famous bard was playing tonight. The music did sound quite lovely opposed to other nights of horrible out of tune lutes being played inside the tavern walls. You all gathered a small table in the corner of the main hall, scooting closer together and just catching up on life while enjoying a somewhat decent drink. The drinks have never been great here, but that somehow made you feel even more nostalgic of the many tears, laughs and memories shared in this space. You wondered if there was a way to get everyone back here sometime soon.

‘’So,’’ one of your male co-workers turned to you. ‘’What is it truly like being the hero of Baldur's gate?” A small smirk present on his lips and a playful look swirling in his eyes. All of your co-workers knew this was a topic you’d rather not talk about. Not because you're ashamed, but there was no need to brag about all the lives it had cost to save the city, guilty or innocent. You swallowed and gave him a tight smile before taking a rather large gulp of your drink. The alcohol is now slowly starting to kick in.

‘’Well, I suppose it is.. Flattering. I wouldn't consider myself a hero. But i am glad the city is somewhat safe again.’’ you said. Not really wanting to dig deep into the topic at all, even if you were slowly starting to feel more tipsy.

‘’Oh, come on! There must be something to tell. What about the tadpole? You were supposed to be dead, respectfully.’’ he carefully said.

‘’Yes, I was. But I am glad I am not. Though I wouldn't recommend anyone carrying a worm inside their head, it did save my life in a way. The experience itself was rather unusual, I suppose. I don't think there's anything I can compare it to.’’ as you start talking you hear a bit more commotion on the other side of the room. But from your angle you can't tell what's going on. Probably another tavern fight between two drunk sailors. Wouldn't be the first time. After a quick glance that way you quickly return to your conversation.

‘’What about your companions? Do you still see them?’’ A female co-worker asked you nervously.

‘’Uhm, we uhm. We occasionally see each other yes.’’ Not a complete lie. But these people didn't need to know the whole truth. ‘’Does anyone want another drink?’’ you quickly ask before any more questions on the topic could arise. You get up from the table and walk up to the bar to order another round for the whole table. Your last, you decided. It has been a long day and sleep was going to creep up on you soon. You look back at your colleagues while you wait and reminisce about the times that table was filled with your companions instead.

After a short while you take the drinks back to the table and join in on the conversation that had been started while you were gone when all of a sudden the commotion rose again. But this time it was loud, and people started getting out of the way. It was then that you noticed it was indeed a fight. While you were about to roll your eyes and take a big gulp of your drink you recognized a certain mop of white hair and pointy ears. Oh god. Your eyes widened. Your body froze. It was him. Fighting an orc almost twice his size.. In the middle of a tavern. He was wearing an all black outfit, which looked almost too good on his body. A dagger held to the neck of the orc as he held him in place. Reminding you of the time the two of you had met. He really hasn't changed much.

You got up from where you were sitting and got a little closer to the situation, trying to blend in with the crowd whilst figuring out what the hell had happened. You saw coins scattered on the table, drinks that once had been in tankards spilled over the floor and chairs.

‘’You better watch your damn mouth around here, elf.’’ The orc said. Trying to push himself back to his feet. ‘’Others might not show you the same mercy.’’ as he pushed Astarion from his frame, he got up. Gathered some of his coins and turned around to leave. Whilst Astarion did the same. You looked back at your colleagues and they were too caught up in their own conversations to notice you left the table again. You made a split decision, not even really thinking while your legs just carried you out of the tavern the same way he left.

He was already well out in the street again while the darkness of the night was about to lure him back into the shadows. You almost panicked, you didn't even know what you were going to say to him once you confronted him with your presence. You just let your feet carry you.

The weather had changed from a somewhat chilly afternoon to a rainy evening. Making your vision even worse. You kept on walking until you reached a crossroads. He has slipped from your vision, unknown which turn he had made, you looked around once more. Hoping to catch a glimpse of his frame. Alas, he was gone. You sighed in defeat as you wanted to turn back around, making your way back to the tavern. Coming up with an excuse as to why your clothes and hair are drenched. A small tear slipped from your eye, blending in perfectly with the raindrops that had been collecting on your cheeks. You looked down at your clothes, now completely soaked. But you didn't care anymore. Something in you stirred. A feeling you had buried deep within the depths of your heart. A flame reigniting slowly. Love. a feeling you had not felt in a while. Even only seeing him, so briefly, it brought everything back up. You looked up into the sky, closed your eyes and took a deep breath before finally turning around, walking back. Maybe you needed this. A very cruel way of the universe telling you to let him go. Fully letting him go. No more small hopes, no more wishing he would magically be on your doorstep. He slipped from your grasp tonight. Maybe rekindling was never an option to begin with.

You took a few steps back toward the tavern, hands wrapped around your own body to somewhat comfort yourself in a way. No more tears were going to be shed on the topic. It had been too long. You deserved happiness, peace. You had fought your battles. And now it was time to find your place in this life.

‘’What's a lady like yourself doing alone on the streets at this hour?’’ a creepy voice behind you said all of a sudden. You quickly froze, and looked around. Trying to find the body that matched the voice. You found none. You quickly tried to make your way back to the tavern but realized it would still be quite the distance. And with the rain clouding your vision, you didn't really know if you were walking in the right direction. Panic rushed through your body as you tried to make out which way to go, not wanting to get lost. Suddenly a hand made its way around your waist. Roughly pulling your body into a much larger frame. You tried to get yourself out of the grasp of the stranger but you were unable to, he was too strong. You looked over your shoulder and recognised him. It was the orc from the tavern fight.

‘’This is a dangerous place for someone like you, you know. I should bring you somewhere safe.’’ he said, getting awfully close to your neck. He held you in a tight embrace, there was no way to get out of his grasp. ‘’I know just the place to treat a nice lady like yourself exactly the way she deserves to be treated. All the things i am going to do to yo–’’ He couldn't finish his sentence, as he started sputtering and coughing up blood. Covering your clothes and hair in drops of his bodily liquids as his body went limp behind you, you quickly got out of his grasp and stumbled forward when your foot got caught on a piece of cobblestone. You stumbled forward and cried out when your body hit the ground, hard. You took a quick peek over your shoulder whilst crawling away and saw the orcs body lay there, lifeless and cold. A tall frame looming over his body. The figure then bent down and retrieved a dagger from the orcs neck. He wiped it clean on his clothes and slit it back into the sheath on his belt. You were terrified. You see the frame walking closer toward you as you try to get up and run away again. There were times where murder didn't bother you. But that life was in your past now. This was not the reality you wanted to live out anymore. Too much blood had been shed by your hands.

As you were trying to regain your balance you noticed that your wrist had taken too much of your weight when you fell. You didn't know if it was broken or just badly sprained, but it hurt like hell either way. The frame got closer to you and that's when you noticed.

The white hair, pale skin. Red eyes that had never been more aflame than they were in this moment. It was Astarion. He saved your life. You gasped when he was close enough to fully be in your vision. The very dim street lights are not doing him justice. He had never looked more beautiful than he did in this moment. His curly hair now sticking to his face from the rain, concern in his eyes. You both stared at each other in silence for a moment before you took a step toward him and pulled him into your frame. A soft sob leaving your lips as you felt him slowly wrap his arms around you, pulling you so close, like he was never going to let you go again.

‘’I’m sorry.’’ he said softly after staying in the moment for a while. You look up at him in confusion. ‘’I am sorry that I didn't try hard enough. I am sorry that I never really told you how I felt. I am sorry that–’’ before he could even continue his unnecessary apologies you kissed him. Softly, so tenderly. Hands cupping his cheeks. He was taken aback by your action but quickly melted into the kiss. A hand going up to the back of your neck, one lingering on your lower back. You pull back from him for a second and look into his eyes, trying to see if there's any form of hesitation in his stare. But there isn't.

‘’You don't have to say sorry. If anyone has to apologize it is me. I should've told you how I felt. I should've made the effort too. I guess this is on both of us. But I want you to know there has not been a day where I haven't thought about you.’’ you say. ‘’There are many things that have stopped me in the past. Many things I feared. But I am done being scared.’’

You look into his eyes. A small smile crept on his lips while you were talking. One you have missed so much, one you had been hoping to see every day for the past year. But fear has gotten the best of you. Your ego being too fragile, too weak. A small young girl, frightened of abandonment, had been making decisions in your life to make the risk as small as possible. But you were done with being afraid. You would rather risk the fear than live the rest of your days alone.

Astarion pulled you close again and placed a small kiss on your forehead.

‘’This is where our future begins.’’

And it was then that you fully realized, he is more of yourself than you are. Whatever our souls are made of, his and yours were the same.

#astarion x mc #astarion x reader #baldurs gate astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 angst #bg3 oc #astarion romance #astarion baldurs gate #astarion angst #bg3 #bg3 x reader #bg3 x you #bg3 x tav #astarion ancunin #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion x you #tav x astarion #bg3 astarion

387 notes · View notes

lazyneonrabbitt · 4 months

Text

Forbidden

Daryl Dixon x reader | SMUT 🔞

Strickt parents and werewolves don't mix, so you run.

The gates opened with that familiar creak that had you stumble out of your bed and stare out of your window.

Like clockwork you watched the community's hunter return from his trip. The beast man's steps were heavy as he carried in a large deer and a boar that hung over his back, together with a bunch of squirrels he'd strung up.

Almost ceremoniously the smaller hunted animals were taken from him as he slowly walked past your window.

You followed the movements of his large paws, wishing to be able to hold them in your hands on day and just rub at the pads. His tail wrapped up in that red rag that identified him from further away since his human form also carried it. You loved how his fur was the exact color of his hair and even the greying beard he sported carried over to his beast shape.

His tail swished from side to side with each step and it almost hypnotized you. So much that you hadn't noticed your father waltzing into your room and catching you staring at the one thing he hated most.

Like a disobedient child he grabbed you by the back of your shirt dragging you away as you let out a shriek at the initial contact.

Out of your view the hunter perked up at the sound, staring at your empty window. He found it curious to not see your familiar face there, now that he for once did fully look up. Your admiring from afar had him intrigued but he had never seen you outside to talk.

As your father dragged you out of your room you cried but your mother only shook her head with a saddened look in her eyes.

"How many times do I have to tell you that ..thing! is the devil!" His shouts went right through you, your mother still not speaking and just standing by and watch.

Not that it surprised you. It had been like this ever since the group came to the community and the beast had saved many people.

Ever since the dead started walking your father had been insanely protective of you and to your luck he was one of the folks in charge of this housing area and held a high rank in the community.

You were his precious little girl and even now as an adult he still saw you like that and never let go of that need to protect you.

"Let me go!" You screamed at him, watching as your mom stood there in the door opening, doing nothing.

You managed to worm your way out of his grasp and sprint out of the front door.

Daryl had heard a shriek and paused his trek to the supply room. As he listened in he heard the yelling and stood at the ready in case someone needed to interfere.

He wasn't going to just rush in due to the opinion these specific people already had of him, so only of really needed he'd go in.

Not that it was, as the woman he had caught glimpses of now came stumbling down the porch steps, clearly in panic.

Running onto the street you collapsed yourself against the beast you knew your father wouldn't get near. You grabbed handfuls of his fur and cried your heart out. Crocodile tears, but the bystanders didn't have to know that.

A large paw came to rest on your back as your father rushed onto the street.

Daryl watched him holding a rifle, ready to shoot as he was calling him all kinds of nonsense names. After looking back and seeing the rifle you clung to his fur just a little tighter.

You felt the rumble through your entire body when Daryl let out a warning growl.

You dared to sneak a peek at your house, where you spotted your mother, again backed ip in the doorway and crying.

All you wanted to do was scream at her to speak up, but the rifle currently pointed in your direction silenced you. And then the familiar sound of a round loading into the chamber caught your ear and Daryl ducked further behind you. He knew your father wasn't gonna shoot you.

The scene was interrupted as your mother jumped forward to grab her husband's shoulders. "You can't! You'll hit her!" She cried as her hands were roughly shaken off the man's frame as he again took aim. "Don't worry, I'm a great shot."

You jumped up at his words, shielding Daryl's frame with a wide stance.

"Why would you even shoot him? He's a friend! He provides for us.." You felt Daryl's head rest against you in response and held a paw around your leg.

Your voice cracked as you yelled at your father, tears now anything but fake.

"Don't you see? That's a monster!"

A crowd had formed by now as you yelled at each other until Carol stepped in, wondering in her kindest voice what seemed to be going on.

You knew Carol, she was the sweet lady who brought food all the time. Even while being part of Daryl's group your parents quickly accepted her.

"Do you wanna lower the gun, please?" Carol approached cautiously. "You're scaring your wife and daughter."

The rifle lowered slightly before being used to aggressively point back as he continued raving about how his daughter was defending a demon.

"You don't even know him!" You snapped back before Carol could answer. It wasn't that you did knew him at all either, which your father made very clear as he cursed at your disobedience.

"You kept me locked inside, I couldn't get to know him.." You cried out between tears, feeling Daryl carefully nudge your hand with his snout.

"From what I'm hearing right now I think it's best you and your daughter are staying separated for a while." And before he could respond she added "she'll be staying in my home. We are friends and I know she's comfortable around me."

After some more back and forth without a pointed gun, efforts to avoid the argument shifting back to Daryl and finally some words from your mother the agreement was done. You were watched like a hawk as you and Carol packed your most important items up and eventually left for her home.

It was strange, spending your time in a new home. Even stranger to hear a shower running while thinking Carol lived alone as she never mentioned any housemates.

She helped you take your items upstairs and sort out anything you could keep downstairs like coats and shoes.

"You can do whatever you want in here. Just make sure to tag along with me if you wanna go outside for the near future, okay?" Carol tried her best to work with everyone's rules and requests and for now it seemed to be good.

You spent your first days relaxing and reading. Carol had allowed you to rummage through the books she kept in the living room and you found a thick book on werewolf mythology and history. Maybe she kept it to learn stuff about Daryl.

And you wanted to learn as well so you spent your time in bed with the book, reading about the strengths, weaknesses and changes of werewolves. There were chapters about their changed anatomy too that went into full detail.

During dinner you heard a door and stairs before a half asleep, grumbly Daryl emerged from the downstairs room.

"Morning, Pookie. Made your favorite." Carol got up to grab him a plate as Daryl sat down at the table and greeted you tiredly.

You three ate dinner mostly in silence with Daryl still being half asleep and you being too nervous to speak and were internally worrying if the way you ate was normal.

And of course Carol caught on as you two washed the dishes as Daryl had passed out on the couch almost immediately after putting his plate away.

"His hunting trips tire him out, he sleeps almost the whole time for like four days after." She gives a loving glance at her best friend. He looked like those old world dads that took their after work nap while moms cooked dinner. It was cute, honestly. And that little peek of happy trail underneath the ridden up hem of his shirt was pretty distracting.

You continued the dishes and laughed with Carol, who promised to take you along on her trip through the community to clear her list of tasks.

You finished up and headed back upstairs to continue study your book, eventually passing out with it open beside you.

It wasn't long before Daryl joined you in the bed, laying down behind you and pulling you close into his chest. Your body warmed up immediately as his soft growly breaths fanned your ear and his hard length pressed against your clothed backside.

A soft sigh left you as you pressed back against him. You wondered what he looked like, bit you weren't going to interrupt him and ask. His hands slipped the fabric off your body and you felt his thick cock slip between your thighs.

Your breathing picked up as you felt his hand snake to your front and guided himself between your folds and pressing in oh so slow.

You moaned as he slid in and out at a calm pace with his hands grabbing at your chest.

He felt so good inside of you and you could feel yourself getting so, so close--

What? A knock on your door woke you from your dream.

"Yer okay?" Daryl's raspy voice wondered, but as he breathed in he needed no answer. Your panting clearly wasn't from a nightmare. Your bedside lamp was still on and his old lycantrophy book was open next to you on a ..more intimate chapter.

When you didn't answer his question in embarrassment but seemed to be okay in any other way he gave you a huff and a smile. "'M headin' fer a shower. Wan' me back here after?"

A very shy nod was all you could muster before he left with a quiet "back in a bit."

As the door closed you put the book away and curled away under the blankets. Entirely flushed by the situation and embarrassed of how he caught you just now.

You were so caught up in your own misery you hadn't realized he walked into the room until your mattress dipped on the side and the blanket was lifted off your head.

Wide eyes, caught off guard, stared up at him. His hair still wet and a soft smile on his face. "Hi," was all he said before dipping his head down and nuzzling your cheek, not wanting to kiss you without being sure you'd allow him to. He kept his seated position at your side until you gave him the okay to come lay down.

But it was clear you were still a bit shy from before.

"Can ya show me what ya want?" His voice was much softer than usual, sending shivers down your body that collected all the way down to your core.

You rolled onto your back, hands slowly coming out from under the blanket to hang still halfway between you two for a moment before they settle on his arms and tug ever so softly, scared to seem too forward. He let his arms be moved, one ending on each side of you and his body soon followed.

The blanket stayed in place to form a comfortable barrier for you to remove when ready, but for now he was content like this. "Wha's yer next plan, pretty lady?" His hand lifted to caress your cheek and brush a strand of hair out of your face. You didn't answer but without thinking you stared down as your mind went back to your dream and the book you were reading.

Daryl caught your eyes moving down his body and let out a soft laugh. "How 'bout ya share tha' dream from earlier. Can do tha' for real this time."

A short moment of silence passed that Daryl used to take in your features properly this time until you finally nodded. "Okay."

You moved the blanket down while Daryl moved off it to give you more space to move, patting the mattress behind you for him to lay down. Feeling the mattress dip behind you really kicked your nerves into high gear and Daryl noticed. He placed himself down gently, an arm over your waist to test the waters. He had no clue how experienced you were or weren't thanks to your living situation so tonight wad all at your pace. Although it was getting difficult to keep his urges to himself as his mind howled at him to 'just take and claim her'.

Your soft voice pulled him from his thoughts. "Can I.. see you?" It wasn't the whole question, but it was all you could get out.

"Take ma clothes off?" A shy "Please" was all he needed to take off his shirt and shuffle off his sweats. "All the way?" He questioned before removing his underwear as well on your request.

"Can yers come off?" His fingers had already found the hem of your shirt and the elastic of your panties, slowly moving his hand around your bare skin.

"Uhuh." Your hips lifted just enough for your shirt to be pulled up and rolled back to lift your shoulders for it to come off entirely. With the blanket slipped down Daryl's eyes found your chest immediately and looked at you with pleading eyes.

When you gave him permission his lips were on your skin, sucking and biting at the sensitive flesh. You arched your back in response, pressing your ass right against his hardening member and earning a soft moan from the man. Humming in response you repeated the motion until a hand gripped at your hips. Quickly stilling all movement as you felt claws digging into your skin. You pushed down the blanket to see. The skin around his fingertips had darkened and his nails had grown into long, thick claws. The deep rugged breaths fanning your ear had you look back at him only to see bright blue eyes and sharp fangs. His ears now pointed our from underneath his messy hair.

"Please.. show me?" They still weren't the words you were trying to say but you couldn't get them out, too embarrassed to ask.

The question mulled around in Daryl's mind for a moment, wondering if he was really going to change for her.

But who was he to deny her request? He knew he wouldn't hurt her and had seen her more often than not staring from her window.

So he nodded. "Yeah, alright." To which she smiled widely, unable to hold her excitement in.

A quick kiss was shared before he lifted himself up to his knees as he let the change wash over him. It was a quick process for him these days and it only caused some mind discomfort that faded as soon as the change was done.

You watched him shift into his large beast form with awe, being below him only intensified it all.

When his breathing evened out and his shape now was that of a beast he slowly blinked at you, showing he trusted you.

You were gorgeous beneath him. And he was beautiful above you.

Yet neither of you moved. He was letting you take him all in now that you were close and not watching from behind glass.

All that was heard in the room was Daryl's heavy breathing as he watched your hand lift up and reach out to touch the thick muscle of his arm.

You watched his head come down and gently lick your arm at the spot you touched him. And then your hand moved. To his shoulder, up to the side of his neck and his tongue followed. To your shoulder, onto your neck. His wet nose rested against your skin as he let out a noise akin to a purr. Ever so slowly you moved your hand again, resting it on his chest and giving the soft flesh a little squeeze. You couldn’t help yourself when he looked so soft and squishable.

You felt his wet tongue dart across your neck, moving down with each lap and reaching the sensitive skin of your nipple, easily engulfing the whole area in a layer of drool and making you sigh in relief.

One of your hands went to rest on the bridge of his snout and softly pushed downward. A whimper escaped your lips as Daryl complied and moved down until your pushing stopped. He had needed to back up a little and almost stepped off the bed in the process but managed to curl up with his maw right above your centre. Jaw hanging open with his tongue lolled out, sniffing and lapping at nothing as he salivated. You had spread your legs for him but still his large paws came to rest on your thighs before he nudged his snout against your lips and licked a broad strip making you moan out his name.

Just as he shoved his tongue against your clit he let out a hum, sending vibrations straight through you. Soon after you were squirming under his grasp, whining and begging for nothing in particular until he slowed his movements and moved back to hover above you, still licking his lips.

With how he was sitting over you, you realized you had a very clear look at his delicate its full glory. And it was scarily big. Everything about him was big, his tongue had reached deeper than anything else ever had, but seeing how it hung just above your stomach and reached as far up as It did, with that big, swollen knot at the base..

Now it was Daryl’s turn to let out a whine. He repositioned himself so his length rested snug between your puffy lips, moving his hips back and forth to get at least some kind of friction and panting at you, almost begging to press it past your entrance.

Reaching down you gave his cock a rub, trying to wrap your fingers around but them never meeting with how thick he was.

She used both hands to squeeze at him while he kept moving around. A particularly loud whine made you feel bad for him and finally gave into both of your wants.

When he pulled his hips back you maneuvered his tip between your folds and into you on his forward thrust, catching him off guard.

He felt his tip being enveloped in your walls and jerked his hips, pressing further than he wanted and earning a yelp from you.

"Ow." You breathed heavily but still managed to laugh, which helped ease Daryl's worry of hurting you.

He didn't move until you gave him the okay. Slow, careful thrusts were his way to go, each few thrusts adding an inch. After a good few inches, almost three quarters of his length inside of you your face scrunched in pain. "Too big.." you sighed with a flat hand on his chest. He grumbled an apology and wrapped his hand around himself, making sure he would't thrust deeper as he kept going at any pace you could handle. Slowly speeding up as no noises of protest came and he only heard soft moans and pleas. His head was right next to yours, panting softly as he rutted into you, taking in your increasingly needy sounds.

"C..close" you breathed as your hand reached to feel the bulge in your stomach his cock made. An acknowledging growl let you know he understood and not too long after when his thrusts got more sloppy he reached a paw to rub at gour clit, working to get you both off at the same time.

"Fuckk--" his rough pawpad felt so good on your most sensitive parts you came hard, your walls constricting around his length so delicious it took him two, three more thrusts before finishing with a muffled howl.

Daryl lapped at your skin in a comforting manner, from your cheek to your chest like he was telling you "you did great."

He slowly pulled out and nudged you hips, gesturing at the door. He was telling you to go clean up. You could feel him leaking out of you so squeezing as best as possible you waddled to the bathroom only to return to Daryl comfortably resting on your bed, lifting the pre-warmed blanket for you to join him.

It felt safe like this, with his strong frame curled around you it was like nothing could hurt you anymore and sleep took you in a way calmer embrace than ever before.

The next morning when you woke up you found Daryl back in his human form blinking the sleep from his eyes and grunting a good morning.

You lazily smiled at his groggy morning voice and leaned in for a quick kiss, whispering your own good morning in return.

You shared some cuddles until your stomach called out for food so loudly it had you both roll out of bed with laughter and head downstairs after getting dressed.

Neither in those moments, now or before had thought of the reason they even shared a house. Their loving housemate Carol, who, from her spot in the kitchen called out upon hearing two pairs of feet come down the stairs.

"How was it? Did you use protection or do I need to puppy-proof the house?"

A/N: y'all may thank @celtic-crossbow for that fantastic closing line.

#sometimes I write #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon #twd #the walking dead #twd x reader #twd daryl #twd au #werewolves #werewolf #werewolf x human

193 notes · View notes

doublekanble · 3 months

Text

deer (after the car crashed)

Alastor/reader (gnc)

romantic

word count: 4.7k

Or, a confession, (somewhat) note: not nesnecessarily connected, but IS written in the spirit of deer (iahl). someone said p2 where he confessed and i thought 'he would've never, he would do every romantic thing in the book and cry over your dead body but he will never ask you out. reader got hurt, non-descriptive as i am but a silly guy, very possibly wrong description of a little medical things.

The gramophone in the corner of your room play a tune that he himself isn’t exactly fond of, but didn’t exactly hate. It’s been your favorite ever since you spent more than a month of your wages to win an “online” bidding war for the limited release. As he hum along, he held onto your jaw, fingers sharp and all claws doing its best to not leave so much a scratch on your chin. Just as gently, he let the tip of a thermometer sits on your tongue, and close your mouth.

Finished, but not leaning back, he take a second to look at you, almost a sneer on his face at your state, he trust that by the time you wake up, you can still remember the faces of whoever it is that harmed you. Even if you can’t, he mused, he’ll help you. Hopefully you know how to recognize bones structure. He turn back to the book he left half-way through and pick up where he left off, a book you tried to read several times. Would you let him spoil the ending, he wonder. Reaching for his neat whiskey as he scanned the line printed on yellowed paper, he down it in one go.

(somewhat, Alastor let the thought fester, he also became a culprit. Having time after time parading you by his side, thinking that he can always shelter you)

You’ve always been good at giving books recommendations, despite finishing only a handful of them. You’re also a delight to be around, much more than anyone in the hotel can ever afford to be. Always finding himself around you, adding seconds to minutes to hours, and then when he would check the time, you both would’ve already missed dinner, talking about nothing all the while.

(he would laugh, and you would chuckle, and he offers you meat, and you'd denied. You don’t feel like eating that day, you’d say. That’s how he started checking up on you, even though eating is nothing more than a passing hobby down here in Hell)

Needless to say, you’re his favorite, worming into his heart in such a short amount of time. It’s even much more redundant to even bother insinuating that he might do everything he can just to keep you safe. Having taken enough time to think about the unfamiliar emotions you stirred in his heart, he decided that it’s welcomed to stay for as long as he wants it to. As such, Alastor acquainted himself with the need to make sure you’ll never have to worry about a single missing strand of hair on your head. Always more of a caretaker, he finds it utterly adorable how your nonchalant demeanor always falters under his relentless care. Never the heart to deny it, but never fully accepting it either.

And it should’ve stayed that way, with you blubbering about and tripping over your own words while acting like nothing is wrong, and him hovering over you, grinning as he brush off whatever you gotten onto your clothes that day. But it couldn’t possibly stay that way when you’re lying on your bed wrapped up and unresponsive, unable to even give him an excuse as to why you stumbled back through the front door after what supposed to be a quick errand trip, scaring poor Charlie to death with ugly, gnarling gashes in the shape of long running lines down your arms and several red holes staining your shirt, one logged deeply in your left inner thigh. You would promptly pass out the moment she rush to your side and stays that way for three days and two horrible, grueling night.

He wasn’t even there, staying in his radio tower for the day. Assuming that you’ll come to him if you needed something, he let his shadows rest at the corner of his eyes. Only when Husk burst into the room -furs all frazzled and sweaty- that he knows. When he came down to you, you’re out like a light for at least three hours already, Angel sitting on your bed with two bullet in a red cup sitting at his side. His pink and white gloves stained red, it trembles as he drop yet another one into the cup, then slowly goes back to gently reaching in for another one.

“Can’t afford to work fast, been some months since I hafta pull anything out on my own. Heh.” He laughs to soothe himself, shuddering under his breath. Saying that, Angel makes it clear he doesn’t trust anyone else to do this. The sheets that Nifty changed for you already turning red, the one at the foot of the bed brown. The unfortunate downside to natural healing is that you tend to bleed for a long time until you're stable enough for your meat to reconnect.

(the bottom of his shoes would later step on that same brown, mixing another red into it. He was -and still is- torn open at the thought)

Alastor likes to play up the lie that he doesn’t understand fear or anxiety, pretend that he have never been at the feet of anyone else other than himself. And he would go through the duration of your relationship letting you see him as such. He’s someone you can rely on; someone you can trust with everything you have without the lingering fear that he’ll pull it from under you one day. But you always been individualistic to a degree, it was never a problem before.

(you dislike not knowing where to go and what to say, so you never do anything or say anything that might ruin the perception people have of you. You seems so close off like that, he said. You’re not, you insisted, you’d let anyone you love in as long as they ask)

Briefly, as he seated back onto the armchair now sitting right by your bedside, thermometer back in hand, he ponders about how he must’ve looked to the others when he first step into the room. You yourself are often entertained by the macabre sight of his much more unpleasant form, calling it endearing at times. But the others are much less appreciative of it. They don’t come in that often, anyway, only Nifty and Angel does. It’s not that they don’t care about you, it’s simply that he deemed them completely and utterly useless.

(he wonders when you woke up, will you let him back in, already knows how it'll play out)

Vaggie busied herself with taking care of Charlie, who can’t look at you without bursting into tears. Her weeping heart normally is entertaining to see in action, but an on-edge and scared Charlie is a messy Charlie, and she nearly pour hot water on you and Angel Dust - who hurriedly covered you up with his lanky frame. He appreciate the spider demon extended effort in keeping you safe, having only left to pick out a disc to put back into the gramophone himself.

Through gnashing teeth and a too-wide smile, Alastor asked Vaggie to keep check on her dear partner. And they haven’t been seen near your room since. Promised by Angel to come by and give updates whenever he can.

Nifty’s appearance would be much more erratic. At first, it’s to take away things that Angel stops using, cleaning it up and putting it back to its spot. Then after that, bringing with her tea and biscuits Pentious made and practically begged her to bring to you that would, in turn, sit on the bedside table until her next visit to change the sheets and duvet again. He can tell she’s a bit more bothered by the fact that you’re still bleeding onto the sheets than you being unconscious. She did ask him when you’ll be awake. He doesn’t know.

(he can’t fathom the idea of you pushing him away. but the taste of dirty copper stains the roof of his mouth for the days you wasted away on your bed)

And Angel, much more agitated than anyone else, much more competent than everyone else, grumbles about how hard it is to change your bandages with Alastor hovering over his shoulders. After the 3rd time, he figured the demon would never stop, so he let him keep watch.

Alastor would’ve done it himself, not trusting the spider (or anyone else for that matter) with touching you now that his part in clearing your wounds is done, if not for how his eyes lingers on your right hand, your dominant hand. The one with the tear in the web between your pointer and middle finger, running down by at least 3 centimeters, sewn shut with skills Alastor almost wishes he have. He hates that he fully understood why Angel would be staring down at you with such a miserable expression.

When you’re bleeding finally stable enough so that you don’t need the bandages change as much anymore, Angel would come by with a thermometer, placing it in his hand and asked him to keep check on you and change your bandages if needed while he himself went off to make up for the work he “missed out on”. His phone now finally back in his hand after the constant ringing in the 7th hour nearly cracked Alastor’s patient, left behind with Fat Nuggets.

(Husk would come by one time, on the fourth hour of your rest. Alastor would leave for one. When he came back, Angel doesn’t have the heart to questioned why he reeks, simply chiding him to try and go change)

Holding it in his hand and turning it over, he look at the readings and think you would’ve thanked God for your wounds not being infected, or at least enough to give you a fever. Angel did well. He thinks about how downright disgusting the wounds looked on you despite seeing so much worse in his time. It won’t scar you, but it’ll take more than a week for you to even hold a pen, let alone moving it without any pain. At least it’ll heal. He would’ve killed God if he could.

Returning to his (your) book, he felt a pit forming in his stomach, you’re easy to read, he’ll know what to do once you talk again. Alastor pretends he doesn’t feel fear, but it certainly is much more unpleasant when it’s about someone else. He expected you to wake up soon, if it’s not tomorrow, he doesn’t know how he can hold it back, taste of copper still stuck to his teeth.

It took you five days and five night for you to start opening up your eyes. Six and a half for you to rasped out a weak apology for making him worried, being hand-fed as much water and porridge as possible in between the short sentence before you immediately fell back onto your pillow and sleep for the rest of the day. Angel Dust who was there at the time slipped away to pass out the good news to the rest of the hotel residents.

Despite so, nobody enters the room more than once for rest of the night. In their stead, hand-made paper flowers and get-well-soon cards stays with you on your bedside table. He knows they’re making something else in the main lobby, and it’s absolutely hilarious to him that they think you’ll be able to walk anytime soon to see it yourself. One time, Pentious tail bump the garbage can on his way out, Alastor can feel his terrified gaze, but choosing not to pay the fool any mind. Your right hand in his left, he sit with a glass of whiskey on the rock instead, armchair now sitting next to your bed and facing the bundle of gifts.

(Husk would come in twice before the dawn came to give him two more drink and to give you a lousy card, clearly been made by Charlie in his stead. He waited for Alastor’s permission before placing it on top of the pile with all the others)

At early dawn, he held himself back as you stir awake. Your hand wrapped in his, giving him a squeeze so weak he barely able to feel it. but he felt it nonetheless, and in spite of his wearing sanity, he simply returns the gesture and lifted your hand up to his thinning grin.

“Good morning darling, you gave us quite the scare there. I hope you’re finally awake enough to know where you are?”

Still with that charming tone, but so much smaller and quiet in the room. He waited for your reaction to see how far off you are from consciousness, when the corner of your lip stretches just a bit, he smile with a bit more heart, but it still border on exhaustive. Turning the words sitting on his tongue, back and forth after the relief finally settled, he wonders if it's worth it.

Placing the half-finished whiskeys on your bedside table and accidentally draws your eyes to all of the get-well gift. Not too awake yet, you look back at him with a blank expression and his rotted heart jumps in his chest.

“Ah, those.” he heave a sigh, “They’re from the lots here. You’ve missed a group exercises or two dear.” He leans over you, mindful to not pull your arm with him. Even so, your eyes squinted just a bit, it breaks him more than he’d ever want to admit. “I’d suggest you get used to it though. It’ll be quite some time before you can leave the room.” Borderline on warning you, yet tone still playful, he watches as you breathe and turn your head towards the ceiling, eyes off him.

“…I figured…” You’re so pitiful like this ,he thought as he poured a cup of water for you with one hand, not minding the cards and flowers that fell off in the meantime, they can wait until he’s done with this.

You made a miserable attempt at sitting to take the cup on your own for all of a second before you drop back down with a quiet “oofm”, the bed barely creaks while you seethed and writhed, cursing under your breath, hand finally leaving his to set itself on the soft surface. It’s shaking, your entire body, that is. Briefly, you try to open your right hand, and you stop. Separately, he cursed you and your wretched independence.

“Hurt?”

“I'm surprised I'm still alive…”

“It’s no wonder,” Alastor carefully lifted your head up, bringing the cup to your lips and let you take slow sip as he starts, tone just a tad bit too grating, “you did come crawling back to the hotel with 5 bullet in your torso and more than a few scratches that our fellow spider friend almost can’t handle! Really! I’d be glad to still be breathing if I were you.”

His words almost too fast for someone who just woke up from a week-long coma to get and he knows. But Alastor have been sitting in an armchair that felt one size too small for him for seven days constantly going through your two records and 3 books and reliving the moment he sees you on your bed with your eyes closed shut like a corpse in a casket. So even as he lay your head down and put the cup away, gesture loving and gentle, he still can’t help but to sneer at you.

“It’s almost like you’re trying to die again. You know that if you really wanted to, I would’ve gladly assisted you with leaving this side of the living world. Or the dead! No need for scraping scraps off the road.” He tries to play it off as a joke, laughing a bit to himself. But he knows you know. At the sounds of your beloved song being drown out by his growing static, he tries to keep his composure still. “What was it that got you stumbling through the door like a kicked pup on the road, by the by? Did you got caught in the storm drain picking up daisies? A run-in with a past nemesis? Please, do feel free to share, dear. You were so eager to run off on your own with that little errand of yours without a word to me after all.”

It's something that he compels you to do early on when he started taking you out with him. Simply inform him when you planned to leave the hotel alone, especially if it was to some much fouler part of the Pride Ring. Let alone the trail of dried blood that Husk traced after was irritatingly far from the hotel. You didn’t just stumble into the hotel on your last leg, you dragged yourself back to him one coin from your death bed.

It's been seven days, and the taste of copper still lingers. Alastor is not a patient man, but he likes to think he tried his best to be, especially with you. But the more you stay silent without even facing him, the more he can feel his self-restraints pulling at the seams, so close to breaking.

“That’s not funny, Alastor.”

Without time to even mourn the façade he plays up for you that long since crumbled to dust, Alastor hovers over you, fingers digs and tears at the sheet. It’s a habit grown bad, the way he defaults to less-than-vague threatening gestures and mocking words the moment he feels too vulnerable, something you picked up on naturally and never bothered poking him with. But the more he lingers by your side, the more he’s aware that he simply cannot just do that to you, someone who can freely walk off from him. And with his growing need to keep you by his side, you would more likely be hurt by him than anyone else in all of Hell.

“It never was supposed to be, dear. Now, do I have to pry it out of you or do you want to tell me why?”

For seven days and six nights have he been thinking. If he learns to keep you somewhere no one else can see you, Alastor would’ve never found you on the stained bed with bullets decorating your innards.

(this anger should’ve never been directed towards you, but somewhere deep in his wretched, rotted heart, he thought that you should’ve stayed away in the first place, he begged that you yell at him so he can finally leave you alone)

And Alastor would’ve gone on, would’ve said something even more nasty to pull some kind of reaction out of you, but you, with your eyes looking out what part of the window that the curtain haven’t covered up and a voice so small he can hold in one hand. Almost like you’re sorry.

“They say it’s because I know you.”

And he let himself fall by the foot of your bed.

It’s a snicker at first, then a chuckle, then he start to laugh. And he keeps laughing as his claws pulls at the sheets and left marks just as ugly as it was on your arms. Claws as sharp as the one that have dug itself into you, now tearing lines into your duvet and sheets and bedding and open up scars. But your warmth grows apparent as your trembling fingers held onto his claws. And despairingly, he held onto you.

Even though he already know, even though he was frantically getting into your face and forcing you to confirmed what he learned by the middle of the fifth hour. Alastor still feel a horrible sense of defeat washes over him as he held tightly onto your right hand, the information’s utterly revolting, coming directly from you.

And even knowing that he’s hurting you, he still refuses to let go as your bandages slowly bleeds red. Promises to himself that if you let go, he will. And when your other hand reaches over, your breathing’s heavy, he prayed you’d pry his hands off yours. And when you didn’t. It takes everything he have to not lock you away forever and never letting you out.

“I don’t want to bother you so much. It wasn’t even supposed to be that far of a trip, but I panicked and didn't realized they were leading me from the hotel…” you paused, wanting to go on but wasn’t sure how to soothe him while the implication kills him. Just what sort of godly deeds did he ever do throughout his life and death to have you by his side? And just what sort of unearthly karma is placed upon you for you to be stuck by his?

You know this happened because of your ties to him, but there’s not a lick of anger from your end as you give him the time and privacy he barely granted you to collect himself. And as time pass on without a word from both side, you start to drift off, still beyond tired even after the long rest. But he can feel your hands still holding onto his. Oh, what a pair, you and him. An idiot that refuses to leave and a dog that can’t let go. The last song plays before he needs to reset the needle as he gather the strength to clear his throat and break the silence.

“I’m sorry dear, I-,” He rasped out, voice strained and unsteady, having laughed himself raw, it sounded as if he’s the one that just came back from the death. “I know you won’t be gone for long, but I simply just-“ neither the gun or bullets he held in his hand at that time are made with Angelic metals, they would beg and cry out to him. The bastards couldn’t have afforded enough to spare you any. But it doesn’t do well to quench the pain in his heart, neither would it let the wound on your body heal any faster.

He laugh a light and airy laugh, unable to tell you what you already know. “I must beg for your forgiveness mon cher. It seems I simply can’t handle the idea of being parted from you for too long anymore.”

(like mocking, beloved, but shouldn’t have never been his, you shouldn’t have gotten stuck with a rotting corpse of a deer chained to a tree, but he doesn’t want to let you go just yet, so you’re his)

“That was genuinely shitty of you.” Right to the point. Despite you letting him hanging onto you so desperately, despite holding onto him so kindly, you never bothered to mince your word, more than exasperated, almost like you’re scolding a child. “I know you said that because you’re upset too. But if you were anyone else, I would’ve actually just, kick you out.”

Dragging himself up, careful to keep your wounds from flaring up with any more pain than it already had, he sits right next to you, bringing himself closer to your face and placing your right hand into his lap, almost like croaking, the static in his voice comes in and out. “I know, dear. Whatever it is I can do to make amends. I will.” He will leave if you asked him to, if only Alastor is anything else but a selfish dog, he will never let you know.

“I don’t want you to fix anything, Al. Just-“ he relaxed his grip, hearing you called him like that again, in such a voice, something blooms inside him again, he mourned your fate. “try to not do that again, yeah? It feels like shit waking up after all of that and then getting yell at.”

Chuckling humorlessly, of course you would ask for something so simple. He lie down next to you, storing the little mundane sight of your much more relaxed face so close to his off into the back of his head. “Of course, my dear. I vowed with all of my heart, or- whatever’s left of it.” Something like this will never, ever happened again. Not as long as he’s still breathing. And you, too eager to place the unfortunate incident behind you, but too worn out to laugh along, you simply smiles and close your eyes, face flushes red.

“Whatever you say, fucking dork…”

“Oh, such ghastly insults! How will I ever survive?” he turns over and lie on his stomach, hand holding up his head while leaning over you, play with your unkempt hair like a maiden in love. “And right after I spent my days keeping over you! What a heartbreaker you truly are, darling. I wonder what dear old Charlie would say to such a foul mouth?”

Your mouth open for a bit, then screwed itself shut, words failed to form as you try to hold in a giggle at his antics. Despite your gramophone still playing the same set of songs since last week, his heart finally get to rest when the atmosphere in your room grows much brighter. For your sake, he let you find your footing while brushing bangs into your face. Your breathing is still heavy, tinged with pain and what else that will surely follow you for the next gruesome month, but at least you’re laughing.

And then, as if on loose tongue, you stop him dead in his track. “Why do you call me that?”

Alastor froze, the claws dancing on your forehead moved to held onto the side of it, nearly nicked you in the process. He forced you to face him.

“Do enlighten me darling. What do I call you?”

“Like that.”

He raised an eyebrow.

(you’re silly, but not clueless. He knows you’re smarter than this. But then again, he doesn’t know if you know he’s yours just yet)

“ Y’know… like-“ impossibly, affectionately, you’re much redder than he’d ever seen you, now stumbling over your words, “like…darling?”

“Yes, dear~?” without missing a beat, he replied.

“You b-! Argh…”

(he could get used to this)

You nearly sat up, then immediately quiet down and seethe at him through your teeth. He laugh in returns and pat your cheek affectionately. “You ought to be more careful dearest~! At this rate, you’ll be here for-“

“Stop that!” your roar, something akin to a small kit, voice barely able to stay steady enough to comprehend. “You know what I’m trying to say! I don’t get it!”

He smiles, hand going back to messing with your hair. “I do not get what you’re trying to implied,” baring his teeth while you gritted yours, “sweetheart~”

(a rotting piece of meat, sitting next to a flowerbed, what a sight you two made)

It’s endearing how hard you try to act upset, with your smiles barely differentiate from a grimace and eyes that refused to look at him. “They’re pet name, Al.” he lift your chin towards him, kicking his feet in the air. “It’s personal, isn’t it? You don’t call anyone else that either…” you’re finally starting to gawk the distance between you and everyone else from his eyes. Better late than never, as his mother always told him.

“Correct! You’re such a charming little thing, trust me, but it’s honestly rather demoralizing waiting for you to pick up on it dear! I thought it would’ve taken much quicker, let alone it took until you climbed out of Hades gate to realized.”

“Pick up on what??”

“What do you think?”

"...That you...see me as a pet???"

(he hope you won’t pick up on the smell)

He knows you enough to know you will never let yourself say it out loud until he does. But Alastor is nothing but a patient man. Grin stretching across his face, he pecks your forehead and lifted himself off the bed as you can do nothing else but to loudly protested him. He sings to you as he open the door, “I’ll be seeing you in a bit mon chéri, so do feel free to rest a bit more. We shouldn’t keep the others hanging over this good news!”

“I swear to GOD I will kill you with my bare hands Alastor!”

“Ooh how exciting! I’ll be waiting for that day then. If you can get out of bed by the next month that is!”

Your yelling cut off the moment he’s gone from sight, you’re surely processing it all now. What an exciting thought.

Alastor would’ve rather you two have this conversation under any other scenario, but really, you don’t get to be too picky. He prance off as midday approached, planning on showing you the bones he kept in a box on top of his fireplace later on.

(he hope you’ll learn to live with the contorting shadow that’ll be walking along with you from now on. He might be a dead corpse dragging itself along, but as long as you would let him. You’ll be right by his side)

#alastor x reader #hazbin alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin x reader #x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel oneshot #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel alastor #cut a work call short so i can finished this actually #splatoon dlc drop tomorrow so i have no time #wrote 3.5k in a day...

110 notes · View notes

deathmetalunicorn1 · 7 months

Note

Mihawk, Katakuri, Sanji (Gomez) and Shanks with a Morticia Reader?

-Beautiful but deadly, like a poisonous rose- that’s how many would describe you, it was also your Devil Fruit ability, growing poisonous roses that you could control, but that was besides the point!

-You were so lovely- looking like the moon against the night sky, but you were dark- almost evil looking, but you were only evil to those who perceived you as evil- mainly marines who saw your abilities as evil- as your roses killed people!

-That’s not true…fully. You could grow normal roses at will, and the poisonous aspect was something you could control, but to keep those who would do you harm out- you had to do what you needed to do to protect yourself.

-That is~ until you met (Love). He was almost instantly taken by you- you were stunning and seeing your elegance, your power- you were the perfect woman!

-This man was different compared to the other men that chased after you- but then again he wasn’t a marine, he was a pirate, as you were.

-However, you did grow to adore him, despite his odd behaviors, but to him they were normal behaviors, just like how everything you did was normal to you.

-Mihawk- Found you wandering around his island, holding an umbrella over your head despite it being nighttime. You were… stunning! Mihawk had never seen such a beautiful woman before- he paid little attention to women before, mainly because he knew they were all after his power, wealth, and reputation. You were different, you were much like him, morbid and dark, as you were all smiles when he showed you around his home, warming his heart with your compliments. He treated you like a delicate rose, but he knew that you were extremely dangerous and for some reason- that warmed his heart- knowing you could easily kill him. How exciting!

-Katakuri- Originally he didn’t know what to make of you- you were…odd, even for the Charlotte Family. He could tell that you were very dangerous if you wanted to be- but there was no malice to do him or any of his siblings any harm, at the moment. Mama adored you and your abilities and welcomed you, but some of your habits were a bit odd- you usually remained inside during the day and took moonlit strolls, enjoying the moonlight rather than the sunlight, and you found such beauty in the macabre. Katakuri never really bothered with women before you, but there was something about you- he felt like a fly flirting with a Venus fly trap, but he wanted to be eaten. Anything to spend more time by your side.

-Sanji- He initially threw you off with his affections and attention, especially after you saw that he did this for all women. However, ever since you joined the Straw Hats- just like with Nami and Robin, he always came back, coming out to worship the ground at your feet. He adores everything about you- from your dark wardrobe, your morbid sense of humor, and your ability with your babies- he looks at you like you are the most beautiful rose. He was quick to worm his way into your heart and surprisingly, once you accepted him, he stopped going after other girls, devoting his love to you and you alone, and when you return his affection- he could die a happy man if the last thing he saw was your lips coming to kiss his own.

-Shanks- If asked to describe Shanks, to put it simple you compared him to a dog- rushing to meet you when you came back to the ship, greeting you brightly. If he had a tail it would be wagging. He melts under your affection- you could just scratch the underside of his chin and he would be putty in your hands- this was something Benn totally used to his advantage. However, if Shanks feels if you have been disrespected, he turned into a demon- he would leave no survivors- commanding respect for you. Benn, Lucky, and the others were quite brutal with their teasing of Shanks, calling him whipped- and Shanks would always run to you, where you would kiss him all over his face, leaving numerous kiss marks- so technically he was the winner!

#one piece #mihawk #katakuri #sanji #shanks

168 notes · View notes

mariacallous · 5 months

Text

With Ukraine’s counteroffensive stalled and the U.S. Congress deadlocked over crucial military aid, some analysts have begun raising the specter of a turning point in the war that could lead to a Ukrainian defeat. While the situation on the ground is still far from dire, it could rapidly deteriorate in the absence of a significant infusion of U.S. military support for Ukraine.

The consequences of a Ukrainian defeat need to be fully understood. The likely geopolitical consequences are easy to anticipate. The defeat of a Western-backed country would embolden Russia and other revisionist states to change other borders by force. A Russian victory would frighten Russia’s European neighbors, possibly leading to a collapse of European collective security as some countries choose appeasement and others massively rearm. China, too, would conclude that Taiwan cannot rely on sustained U.S. support. Indeed, the ripple effects of U.S. indecision have already begun: In a move that recalls Russia’s illegal annexation of several regions of Ukraine, Venezuela this month claimed more than half of neighboring Guyana as its own. While there are no signs of an impending invasion, it would be naïve to think that other countries aren’t watching closely to see whether Russia’s land grab succeeds.

Many analysts have already described these far-reaching security risks. But they pale in comparison to the dire consequences for Ukraine and its inhabitants if Russia wins. It is important for both supporters and opponents of Ukraine aid to know what these consequences would be.

To understand Ukraine’s likely fate if Russia turns the tide, the best place to start is what the Russians actually say. On Dec. 8, Russian President Vladimir Putin made clear that in his view there is no future for the Ukrainian state. On Dec. 5, he spelled out his intention to “reeducate” the Ukrainian people, curing them of “Russophobia” and “historical falsifications.” On Nov. 12, former Russian Prime Minister Dmitry Medvedev made Russia’s appetites clear: “Odessa, Nikolaev, Kyiv, and practically everything else is not Ukraine at all.” It is “obvious,” he posted on Telegram, that Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky is a “usurper,” that the Ukrainian language is only a “mongrel dialect” of Russian, and that Ukraine is “NOT a country, but artificially collected territories.” Other regime propagandists assert that the Ukrainian state is a disease that must be treated and Ukrainians a society that must be “de-wormed.”

More explicitly, Russia’s highly censored state television has, over the past two years, consistently promoted the rape of Ukrainians, the drowning of children, the leveling of cities, the eradication of the Ukrainian elite, and the physical extermination of millions of Ukrainians. For an excellent snapshot of these and other statements, Russian Media Monitor has compiled a must-watch collection of short clips from Russian television, complete with English subtitles. This coordinated campaign is not bluster but a harbinger of what awaits the Ukrainian people. In these remarks, we can see the contours of the atrocities awaiting Ukrainians under a total or nearly total Russian occupation.

We can also project the effect of a Russian victory from the atrocities that are already widespread in the Russian-occupied territories. According to official Ukrainian sources, nearly 2 million Ukrainians have already been removed from their homes and communities in the occupied areas and resettled in Russia, either temporarily or permanently. Other estimates range from 1.6 million to 4.7 million. Russian children’s commissioner Maria Lvova-Belova said that more than 700,000 Ukrainian children have been taken from Ukraine to Russia since February 2022; nearly 20,000 of these are known to Ukrainian authorities by name. Transferring children from their home country and denying them access to their language and culture is not only an internationally recognized war crime. Such forced assimilation is also defined by the U.N. Convention on Genocide as a genocidal act. It is why the International Criminal Court has issued a warrant for Lvova-Belova’s arrest.

Russia is not only ridding its occupied regions of Ukrainians but also replacing them with Russian settlers—a tragic continuity with Soviet and Russian imperial practices of systemic deportation, colonization, and Russification. In the Ukrainian city of Mariupol, where the Russian advance killed tens of thousands of civilians and destroyed 50 percent of the city’s housing stock, a handful of new apartment buildings were recently constructed. Some of that housing is being offered for sale, with Russians carpetbaggers snatching up real estate at bargain prices.

Ukraine’s partly occupied south offers a clear picture of the techniques used by the occupying forces to establish authority. A Human Rights Watch report from July 2022 documents a pattern of torture, disappearances, and arbitrary detention in the region. Citizens endured torture during interrogation, including beatings, electroshocks, and sensory deprivation. Several prisoners died from the torture, and large numbers have simply disappeared. Among the victims were local officials, teachers, representatives of the Orthodox Church of Ukraine, NGO activists, and members of Ukraine’s territorial defense. There also is a massive amount of information collected by human rights monitors and journalists about the operation of filtration and detention camps.

Political indoctrination and the militarization of youth are already key characteristics of life under Russian occupation. Political banners and posters promoting Russian patriotism are omnipresent in the occupied regions. New children’s textbooks expunge Ukrainian history and preach hatred for Ukraine’s leadership. The Ukrainian language is being removed from much of the education system and relegated to its colonial status as a quaint dialect representing nothing but a gradually disappearing regional culture soon to be subsumed in the Russified mainstream.

Already, millions of Ukrainians have had their lives destroyed in one way or another by Russia’s monstrous occupation. Were Russia to complete its conquest, it would be a multiple of that number. After almost a decade of war against Russia, Ukrainians are united and highly mobilized in the defense of their country’s borders, democracy, culture, and language, to which many Ukrainian Russian-speakers have switched out of disgust with Moscow’s invasion. Millions of Ukrainians have been enraged and radicalized by Russia’s war crimes and destruction of their towns and homes. Millions of Ukrainians have volunteered to assist the war effort, millions have contributed funds to support the military, and even more have turned to social media to vent and publicly register their rage at Putin and the Russian state.

That would not only make any conquest brutal and bloody. Should Ukraine lose, almost all of Ukrainian society would need to be punished, repressed, silenced, or reeducated if the occupation is to quell resistance and absorb the country into Russia. For this reason, a Russian takeover would be accompanied by mass arrests, long-term detentions, mass deportations into the Russian heartland, filtration camps on a vast scale, and political terror. If a serious insurgency emerges, the level of repression will only widen and deepen.

A major effort will also be required to rid the country of seditious materials, which is to say all films, novels, poetry, essays, art, scholarly works, and music that may contain positive references to Ukraine’s period of independence. Libraries and schools will be purged of all such subversive content—in essence, the majority of all writing and cultural output that Ukraine has produced during the last three decades. Writers and scholars will face the choice of repudiating their identity and past work or becoming nonpersons in the new order. Many will face arrest or worse, simply because they transport Ukrainian culture and stand in the way of Russification. Again, this is not speculation but widespread practice in other territories that Russia has occupied.

Russian territorial advances would be accompanied by a second wave of Ukrainian refugees far more massive than that of early 2022, when some 7 million Ukrainians crossed the border into the European Union. For the remaining Ukrainians, the future would be one of totalitarian controls on culture, education, and speech, accompanied by a mass terror on a scale not seen in Europe since the 20th-century era of totalitarian rule.

There you have in distilled form what a Russian victory would mean. Members of the U.S. Congress are free to vote against assistance to Ukraine if they think—wrongly—that the war’s outcome does not affect the U.S. national interest. But they should not be allowed to oppose assistance to Ukraine without being fully aware of the tyranny they will be helping to empower—and their responsibility for the massive and entirely predictable crimes that will ensue.

124 notes · View notes

gabessquishytum · 3 months

Note

College student Hob has a rather large crush on classmate Dream, and has tried several times to ask him out only to be turned down. Normally he’d respect that “no” and stop bothering him, except that Dream always seems to hesitate before turning him down, and he’s pretty certain he’s caught Dream looking at Hob with interest several times in class. There’s something holding him back, and Hob feels that if he could just figure out what it is, he could settle the matter one way or the other.

There is in fact something holding Dream back from eagerly accepting a date from his crush: Hob’s reputation on campus as a master pussy-eater.

The thing is, Dream doesn’t like having his pussy eaten out. He’s fully onboard with fingers and toys and cocks still, he’s just completely uninterested in having anyone’s mouth down there. Most men he’s dated treated the idea of going down on him like they were doing him a grand favor, and thus became offended when he bruised their egos by rejecting the “favor”. It’s unlikely that Hob would act the same way, given how much he enjoys the act if his reputation is anything to go by, but surely that just means he’ll be so disappointed to the point of losing interest in Dream when he finds out. Best not to even get to that point, in his opinion.

(One way or another Hob will finally find out about the issue, and be able to reassure Dream that just because Hob loves it doesn’t mean he can’t live without it, that he wouldn’t love it nearly as much if his partner wasn’t enjoying himself)

(And at some point much further along into their relationship, Dream may give his boyfriend a shot at eating him out (if anyone could change his opinion on it, it’s definitely Hob Gadling). But it will only be when Dream brings the idea up, and only when Dream finally feels safe enough in the knowledge that Hob will stop with zero complaints the moment Dream asks him to, and that it won’t destroy the relationship if Dream decides that he still doesn’t like it and would prefer to never do it again)

This is absolutely lovely!! We love to see respect for each other’s boundaries!! So sexy!!

Dream is really losing his mind over the fact that he doesn’t want to “deprive” Hob of this thing that he so famously enjoys. When he finally explains that this is what has put him off from accepting his advances, Hob has to stop himself from laughing. He doesn’t want to make Dream feel even worse about all this.

But he also really wouldn’t care if he never ate anyone’s pussy out ever again. Yes, it’s something he enjoys, but it’s not a dealbreaker for him. He’s dated cis men and enjoyed the sex in those relationships just fine, despite the lack of opportunity for eating cunt. And sure he would like to eat Dream’s pussy, but only if Dream also wants it!! That’s kinda the point - his partner’s enjoyment is what makes the experience special.

And Dream is like “……..oh.”

And Hob tentatively asks if he would maybe reconsider his answer and let Hob take him on a date? If that really is the only reason that Dream’s been worried about getting into a relationship with him, then Hob absolutely promises that it’s not a reason at all. He will be quite happy to pleasure Dream in other ways. Or not at all, if Dream would prefer that! Hob would have a crush on him even if he was a worm. Sex hasn’t even really crossed his mind until this point.

And Dream graciously agrees that yes, he would like to be taken on a date. Please. Because he would also like Hob, if he was a worm.

They’re going to be very happy together, forever.

#the sandman #dreamling #nsft #trans dream

83 notes · View notes

elsweetheart · 1 year

Note

Hi!! I feel like u write Ellie and Abby the best and I love ur writing 😭 Can u do Ellie’s reaction to reader dressed in lingerie for her?

tht is so sweet 🥹 i feel like there are writers way better on here but thank u so much for enjoying my stuff <333 i will do some lil hcs for ya

pretty little lady.

🎀 kinda nsfw. reader raiding an abandoned victoria’s secret (the dream) and showing ellie what she found ;)

• so you’d wandered off on a supply run and hit the jackpot, an old victoria’s secret store — fully stocked, because who was raiding underwear stores in an apocalypse? ellie was off grabbing necessities, so you shoved a few lingerie sets into your backpack sheepishly and wandered out, finding her again. “stop wandering off, you little worm.” she poked your butt when you arrived back by her side, none the wiser.

• it was raining outside later that night, the two of you had cleaned up and now she was lounging around in your shared room, wearing her hoodie and sweatpant shorts. you slipped away, settling on a lacy pink set. you checked yourself out, smiling giddily at the way it cupped your ass and pushed your tits up. it wasn’t often in the world you lived in that you could feel truly pretty, let alone glamorous. you fished further into your backpack, coming across the cute white stockings you’d taken with pink bows at the tops of them and pulled them up your legs. your stomach swirled, giddy and nervous. it bottomed out between your legs, fizzling into warm excitement at the thought of ellie taking it off you.

• you get back into the bedroom to find ellie laying about, reading a book she’d found earlier on your supply run. “els, can i show you something?” you stood in the low light, your hoodie and sweatpants pulled over your lingerie. “uh-huh?” she tossed her book aside, sitting up slightly in concern. you exhaled with a nervous smile, reaching for your hoodie zipper and beginning to pull it down. “well i already like where this is going.” she raised an eyebrow with a grin, sitting up more on the bed making you snort.

• “shush, dork.” you flushed, revealing your new bra. you pulled your pants down, kicking them to the side before standing before her in all your lacy pink glory. “well, what’dya think?” you clasped your hands together shyly, looking down at yourself to avoid looking at her. she was quiet, so you peeked up to find her taking in all the small details, a smirk plastered on her face. she scooched to the edge of the bed, holding a hand out. “i think… you should come closer.” she smiled, her voice more quiet and intimate now.

• you scurried closer with a demure giggle and stood between her legs, where her hands hovered above you for a moment unsure where to touch first. ellie was a tactile girlfriend, and she had to feel you to know that she wasn’t having some kind of crazy wet dream. she settled on the backs of your thighs, stroking the smooth stockings before finding her way to the bows at the front, fiddling with them. “this all for me?” her question seemed genuine, in awe of you.!

• “who else?” you shrugged, just as genuine and this answer caused her to look up, eyes all soft and in love. you broke eye contact, looking down at yourself with a flushed smile causing her smirk to widen across her freckled cheeks. her long fingers pinched the bow in the centre of your panties and you held your breath, warm simmering lava dripping down into your heat. “this is very cute, suits you.” her voice was even quieter now and it brought a warmth to your face. you felt special, knowing no one else would be able to hear this conversation— her sweet words reserved just for you.

• “i’m gonna need you to spin for me, little lady.” she grinned, guiding your hips to encourage you to turn in a full circle. you obeyed, and her eyes lingered on your ass, only retreating upwards once you’d turned fully back around. “god damn.” she comment lowly to herself, making you bite your lip.

• “wanted to look pretty for you.” you admit, placing your hands on her shoulders. she stared up at you before turning her head and placing a kiss to your hand where it rested. she then warmed her hands along the backs of your thighs and pulled you onto her lap. “you always look pretty for me.” she began, running her hands over the lace of your panties stretched over your ass. her hands ran up to your waist, and then slowly round to the front, one of her fingers hooking into the underwear that covered your pussy, tugging at it ever so lightly. “these are pretty easy to pull to the side huh?” she leant in, lazily dragging her lips across yours.

• “mhm.” you agreed, urging her to go on. she slowly peeled the lace to the side, exposing your damp cunt split open by your position on her lap. “could always keep ‘em on. they’re too pretty to take off.” she spoke against your mouth, fingers swiping through your wetness forcing a shiver through your body. “s’what you wanted right? you wanted to tease me, hm? if you wanted to get laid, you could’a just said so babe… but i’m definitely not complaining.” she pulled back once more with her infamous smirk to get another look at your lace covered tits before you launched at her, desperate for her mouth to be on yours once more.

♡

#ellie williams smut #ellie tlou2 smut #ellie williams drabble #ellie williams hcs #ellie williams blurb

799 notes · View notes

tj-dragonblade · 3 months

Text

[FLUFFBRUARY FICLET] Shampoo

Rated: G Word Count: 541 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2024, fluff, established relationship, retired Dream, Hob Gadling loves Dream of the Endless | Morpheus, Dream of the Endless | Morpheus loves Hob Gadling, he just doesn't speak it so plainly, scent, processing life changes

Fluffbruary 2024 Prompts Day 1 downy clinic nuance Day 2 engagement scent jam

On AO3

"Hmmmm," Hob purrs drowsily, nuzzling into the nape of Morpheus' neck, pulling Morpheus closer against him. "You smell nice."

Morpheus allows himself to be spooned into Hob's embrace beneath the blankets, nestling into the curve of Hob's body behind him, the warmth of Hob's arm around his middle. "Was my scent unpleasant before?"

"Not at all, not at all." Hob sounds languid and pleased, drunk with the lassitude of encroaching slumber and utterly content. "You used to smell amazing. Indescribable, but amazing. Clean and clear, like…like starshine and midnight frost in the middle of the forest in winter, that kinda thing."

"And now I do not." He can hear, in his own voice, the same bittersweet pang that colors nearly every thought of Before compared to Now. He is happier, of that there is no doubt; there is little to regret in having relinquished his duty and taken up a quasi-mortal existence with Hob. But that does not mean that he does not feel the loss of what he had been, that he does not feel lesser, inadequate, in small and everyday ways, in spite of his relief.

"Well, no," Hob agrees, gently, and presses soft lips to the back of his neck. "Now, you smell human. Touchable." He noses up into the downy hair at the base of Morpheus' skull and breathes in deeply. "You smell like my shampoo, and like the lotion you picked up from that little boutique last month." Hob's arm shifts closer about him, and Hob's mouth brushes the juncture of neck and shoulder, skirts the collar of the tshirt that Morpheus has donned for bed. "You smell like new clothes and comfortable old jumpers and clean sweat and just the faintest touch of rain and right now there's toothpaste in the mix too, and—mm." Hob buries his face in the back of Morpheus' shoulder, worms his other arm around Morpheus' chest and hugs him tightly, breathing deep, scenting him fully. "You smell like Morpheus, my Morpheus, and I love you."

Morpheus hums a small sound in acknowledgement, and brushes gentle fingers over Hob's upon his stomach, rests them there. It pleases him that so many of the scent elements just named by Hob are elements of Hob himself, small ways in which he might consider himself marked by Hob, marked as Hob's.

Hob, who has welcomed him into his life full-time without batting an eye, who waited for him in faith that he would return, who loves him. Hob, who treats him with more kindness than he is rightly due, who holds him while they sleep.

Hob, who thinks he smells nice.

"G'night love," Hob says then, pressing one more kiss to the base of his neck, and Morpheus settles. In only a moment Hob's breath has evened out, slow and deep; Morpheus listens, matches himself to it, lets sleep rise up to claim him safe in the circle of Hob's arms and the cradle of Hob's body.

His last thought as he slips into his old realm, a visitor, is that whatever trepidation he may continue to feel at this change, whatever he may count as lost, that which he has gained in Hob is entirely more precious, and entirely worth it.

= Started: 2/1/24 Drafted: 2/2/24 Posted: 2/2/24

#Dreamling #Fluffbruary 2024 #TJs Fluffbruary #TJs Fics #Sandman

72 notes · View notes

lostbetweenvampiresandmusic · 3 months

Text

Stories and hospital beds

Marko x reader

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

If the room had been a little warmer, I could have almost claimed that I was comfortable. That was, of course, forgetting the fact that I could not move my leg (it was stuck in bandages) and that my ribs were hurting with every breath I took. If I'm completely honest with myself, I have a hard time remembering how exactly I ended up in the hospital.

Last night, Marko had taken me out on a date. We had dinner in a fancy restaurant - he'd even dressed up a little for the occasion, although I greatly regretted him not wearing either a crop top or his jacket. I loved that coat. We talked for hours, and afterwards, we went down to the boardwalk. He dragged me into the haunted house, chuckling whenever I got scared and held on to him tightly. We went on the rollercoaster, the ferris-wheel - obviously we kissed when we got stuck at the top. It had been a great night. Absolutely fantastic.

With a pained sigh, I realised what had happened. Markos' bike had been messed with. He had it parked outside the boardwalk as usual, but when we got on to go back to the cave, he mentioned that the bike felt different. That something was off. He even got off to check if he could find what was wrong, but he couldn't. Even so, he made me wear a helmet, just to be sure. Last night , I laughed at the idea - I trust him with my life, and I knew he would get me home safely.

But now, I am glad he forced me to wear that helmet. If I hadn't worn it, I am certain I would have been in a coffin right now. Once we took off, Marko decided to keep to the main roads, still not fully trusting his bike. We were lucky that he did because the second he hit 20 miles an hour, he lost control. The bike swerved, falling over. Marko, with his vampire speed, managed to get away with hardly a scratch. I, however, human that I am, got trapped under the bike. As the bike shoved over the ground for another couple of feet, I got dragged along. Both my legs were completely open, gravel sticking to the bloody skin. I could hardly breathe with the weight of the bike on top of me. Marko quickly lifted the bike up, pushing it aside. When he tried to help me up, I broke down in tears crying out in pain. It hurt so much, I couldn't move.

"Let me see, hon," he said, carefully laying me back on the ground. He gently lifted my shirt, hissing quietly as he saw the damage. "They're bruised," he said softly as he lowered my shirt. "Broken, perhaps. I need to call an ambulance. I'll be right back."

He pressed a soft kiss on my lips before rushing off to the phone cell, a block away. He returned quickly as promised, and he spent the whole night with me. Keeping me company, holding me when the doctors and nurses performed their examinations. By morning, however, he had no choice but to leave. As much as I didn't want him to go, I didn't want to find my mate burned to crisp.

During the day, I got a visit from my roommate, who brought along some books that had been on my tbr. Nurses came and went, and I spent most of the day in and out of consciousness, loving the moments of sleep since they brought along a moment of peace.

I was asleep, when Marko entered my room that evening. "Your friend needs their rest, so we gave them some sleeping medicine," one of the nurses told him. "But they might still benefit from you being here with them, you know. Knowing someone's there to take care of you is also very beneficial for the healing process."

Marko nodded, holding my hand as he watched me sleep. His eyes landed on my tbr pile. He hated reading, never really found a point to it - but he knew how much I loved it. And he knew how much I loved hearing his voice. So, he grabbed the very first book he could find, and he began to read.

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort."

He read, further and further into the story. His voice was smooth and calming, and I slowly found myself waking up. The more he read, the more he got into the story. He began to give specific voices to the characters. Even without him telling me, I could hear when it was Bilbo or Gandalf speaking. As I woke up fully, I looked at him with a soft smile.

"Hey, how're you feeling?"

I grimaced slightly. "Tired, if you can believe it. And in pain."

"I'm so sorry this happened, babe."

"No, no, this is not on you - or me for that matter. Someone messed with your bike. I'm just glad you got me to wear that helmet."

"Me too," he was about to close the book, but refrained from doing so upon seeing my face. "You want me to continue?"

"As long as you don't mind?" I asked, moving a bit so he could lay down next to me on the bed. "It keeps my mind off of this -" I motioned to my body, "and I like how you tell the story."

"This is just a ploy so you can get me to read your favourite books."

"No, but if this is what it takes, then I don't mind," I teased, smiling as he continued to read to me.

#the lost boys #marko #david #paul #tlb #dwayne #the lost boys 1987 #tlb 1987 #the lost boys x reader #lost boys

56 notes · View notes

animeyanderelover · 1 month

Text

Request: How about Seven Deadly Sins Ten Commandment Meliodas with a royal vampire s/o in an arranged marriage?

Tw: Yandere themes, toxic relationship, possessive behavior, obsession, overprotective behavior, arranged marriage, threats

Arranged marriage with a royal vampire s/o

🐲Considering that vampires are mere vassels for the Demon Clan during the war, perhaps an arranged marriage was proposed from Izraf, King of Vampires, in hopes of his kind earning more rights by wedding you to the son and successor of the Demon King. The Demon King could easily decline, Meliodas could easily decline, but perhaps there is something the Demon King sees in you thus forcing Meliodas into the marriage or maybe it is even Meliodas who has known you beforehand and for that decides that he can tolerate you enough to accept the offer of Izraf. You have no desire for the marriage but are loyal to your clan and for that have chosen to sacrifice yourself in hopes to aid to the greater good of your kind. Something that Meliodas sees as largely foolish and maybe somewhat admirable. The relationship between you two is very distant though as the marriage is a formality that is celebrated only because it is Meliodas who is now your husband.

🐲As Meliodas is fighting on the battlefield though as the leader of the Ten Commandments, both of you do not spend as much time with each other. A part of you is almost relieved yet another part knows that you have now duties to fulfill as you need to convince Meliodas to loosen the control his father has over your entire kind or otherwise Izraf will try to fight for the freedom of the clan and you doubt that your kind would stand a chance. Meliodas is aware that this is the main reason why you agreed to the arranged marriage but he dismisses your pleas most of the time as he reminds you that he is the one who has all of the power and control even outside of this marriage. There is no affection nor any love between the two of you so you decide that maybe you should first of all work on the marriage before asking him for any help as he has no obligation to help you. Meliodas isn't much better than his father after all. So you decide to work to gain his love and affection.

🐲It is quite difficult though as you don't know what to do besides obeying and doing everything you know to please him and keep him satisfied. You do not try to deny it when he asks you if your new strategy is trying to fix the relationship only to then ask him to help you but he doesn't seem to be angry about it, perhaps because he thinks that it'll be useless. He has never loved anyone after all so you aren't going to be any different. He is mainly just entertaining your effort and you are fully aware of this yet you try your best nevertheless. Hard work always pays off though and this saying seems to come true for you as you accomplish what no one has done before you. You worm your way into his heart, something that even Meliodas can't understand. Dark eyes observe you closely, his brows slightly furrowed as he ponders what it is about you that has allowed you to gain his black heart. You have achieved what you had planned to do. Are you aware of the costs though?

🐲Any rude words or discriminating actions taken against you are suddenly severely punished by Meliodas who has mostly ignored it so far as long as no one would have laid a hand on you. Now nothing is left unpunished anymore as he establishes brutally the rule that as his spouse you should be treated accordingly unless someone wants to face his wrath. He becomes much more possessive as you aren't allowed to walk around unless he can accompany you and whilst the war keeps him busy and he spends time on the battlefield which you often use to sneak outside, he always finds out. You can see that he is displeased with your ignorance of his words. You could get hurt after all. Not only from his own kind or from other clans who might plan to target you but maybe even from your own kind. The distrust that Meliodas holds against everyone is glaringly obvious as the only person he trusts with you is he himself. That is why he is so against the idea of letting you be left alone in the care of someone else.

🐲You know that whilst Meliodas cares about you though, the same doesn't count for your clan. You plead him for help nevertheless as this is the main reason why you agreed to wed him. Meliodas has always known them. It is only because of the recent awakening of his obsession that his feelings start dramatically shifting about it. He owns you right now. You might not see this marriage as anything more than a way to help your own clan but he sees it as something more now. You are now free of any duties you had to your clan so you can stop begging and pleading for their sake. You have other duties now that you are married to him and those duties are much more important than anything your clan might have asked of you. He asks of you to now focus on him and as your new role as his spouse but you know that the question is more of a demand. Meliodas not only seems agitated when you bring up your clan once again, he is. Your head is filled with the vampire clan to the point where you deny him after all.

🐲When Vampire King Izraf plots a secret rebellion and the Demon King finds out, your worst fears come true. All of them are defeated by the Demon King and as a punishment and an example for traitors, your entire clan is ordered to be executed. Immediately Meliodas stands up but instead of defending your clan from their grim fate, he only demands of his father to spare you. You are no longer part of the Vampire Clan as you have become a part of the Demon Clan by marrying him and you have been restricted and guarded closely by him which means that you had no part in plotting any of this. He argues with his father yet he is not budging and eventually you are excused and all silent whispers about you are mercilessly silenced by Meliodas. Your desperate pleas for him to save the rest of your clan are all ignored and in tears you realise that you should have never agreed to marry this monster for it would have been more honorable to die together with your clan than to be forever stuck with the possessive prince.

#yandere nanatsu no tazai #yandere nnt #yandere seven deadly sins #yandere sds #yandere meliodas

38 notes · View notes