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d10nyx · 1 month

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over again

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dark content, heavy dub-con, forced ddlg, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, fingering, p in v, creampie, mentions of past drugging, daddy kink, lots of pet names

a/n: took me forever n ever to write this ahhh sorry :/ hope you all enjoy it !! feedback always appreciated !! hopefully the writers block will finally perish.

word count: 1.6k words

14 weeks. 98 days. 2352 hours.

Leon leaves the house at 7.30 am every morning, except for Sundays. From Monday to Thursday, he's home around 6 pm. On Fridays, he isn't home until around 9 pm. Saturdays are the worst because he's home just after lunch.

Usually, when he comes home, he goes to the bedroom and unlocks the door to let you out. He threads his hand in your leash to take you upstairs, giving you a kiss on your forehead as he takes you to the kitchen to eat a meal. He gives you your food on a pink, plastic princess plate with plastic cutlery, and cuts the food into bite size pieces. More often than not, he hand feeds you.

You don't fight it. You'd learned your lesson. You refused food from him once. For 2 out of your 14 weeks locked up in his home, he'd underfed you to the point of starvation until you were begging him to feed you. He sat you in his lap, cooing all sweet as you chewed and swallowed every mouthful he'd given you. That day was the first day he slept with you.

It wasn't all bad. He was sweet. Gentle. If you closed your eyes, you could pretend he was a loving boyfriend. Someone who cared for you, not the creep who'd snatched you from the street after you had a few too many drinks at your friend's party, promising you a better life, safe from the world.

But he isn't sweet, or nice, or kind. He didn't do this for you, despite what his twisted brain tells him. You can pretend all you want that he's something other than what he is, but it doesn't change what he is. A monster.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

“Where's my little princess?” Leon's asking as soon as he walks into the house, kicking his shoes off and hanging his jacket up at the door. You recently got free reign of the home for being on your best behaviour. Didn't even have to keep the leash attached to your collar anymore. Lucky you.

“Here, daddy.” You say meekly, poking your head out of the living room to approach him, fiddling awkwardly with the edge of your shirt. Head down, so he doesn't have to see the defeated expression on your face as you force out the words, swallowing thickly to hold back your tears.

“You have a good day, sweetheart? You do any coloring in those cute little books I got you?” Leon's hands come up to your cheeks, gently stroking his thumbs back and forth across your cheekbones. You shake your head, gritting your teeth to stop yourself from saying something.

“No? Why not, baby? You don't like them? I got the one with lots of kitties. Pretty girls like you like cute things, don't they?” He coos, squishing your cheeks in his hands to make your lips all pouty so he can lean down and give them a little kiss, letting out a loud ‘mwah’ as soon as his lips make contact.

“You eat at least? I left some food in a lunchbox for you.” You shake your head again, and this time it seems to elicit a worse reaction. His brows furrow, and his hand grips your face even tighter. “No? Silly baby… can't do anything without daddy, can you? Come on. Daddy'll feed you, cutie.”

He heats up some food for you and puts it on a plate. The pink, plastic princess plate. He sits you on his lap and feeds it to you from a fork. Pink, plastic fork. The routine is the same, no matter how much you wish for it to change. When you finish eating, he presses a tender kiss to your head and rocks you in his arms.

“Such a good girl. Good girls get rewarded, princess.” He murmurs, pressing soft kisses against the skin of your neck, trailing them up until he's nosing at the hair behind your ear. His hand slides up your thigh and under your skirt, his thumb swiping your swollen bud through the already damp fabric. It didn't matter if you didn't want it. Your body didn't seem to understand what was happening - all it knew was Leon made you feel good. You hated how compliant you got when he touched you, how any thoughts of defiance melted away.

You go limp when he touches you. Docile. You let him do what he wants to you, just like a good girl should. Back-talking daddy is a big no-no. He wrote that in big writing on the rule list that's pinned to the fridge. Escape didn't use to seem impossible, yet now the thought never even crossed your mind. You'd tried, but he kept a tight lock on you. You wouldn't be surprised to find out one of the many injections he gave you when you were unruly had a tracker in. He always seemed to know exactly where you were.

You whimper as he dips his hand under the waistband of your panties. He parts your puffy lips with practiced ease as he continues on with the next part of his routine. 98 days later and he's mapped every inch of your body perfectly - found out everything that has you keening under his touch. Your hips buck as he runs his fingertip between your folds, gathering slick before rubbing small circles into your clit.

“Poor, dumb baby. She's soaking me already. You couldn't make yourself feel good when daddy was gone, huh, sweetheart?” His words are followed up by a finger burying itself in your tight heat, curling to find that gummy spot that has you clenching around him and bucking your hips. “Pretty princess cunt's been drooling for me all day.”

A choked sob leaves you when he pulls his cock out and sits you on top of it. He pulls you down until he's buried to the hilt, groaning as you tighten around his length. He buries his face into the crook of your neck, peppering it with tiny little kisses. You can't help but cry whenever Leon fucks you. 98 days later and you still sob whenever he bullies your cervix with his dick. No matter how many times he makes you cum or makes you go dumb on his cock, it doesn't change anything. He took everything from you - your family, your friends, your job.

You hated yourself more than Leon. For letting him break your walls down. For clinging to him as he tightens his grip on your waist, manhandling you on his cock, lifting you up and down. For finding yourself missing him when he's at work.

“Love…love you, daddy…” Your words come out more like a cry, nose all runny and cheeks wet with tears as he fucks up into you, his head shifting to hang back in pleasure. His fingers dig into your waist as he hears the words, a breathy laugh leaving him as he smiles - all toothy and bright like it always is when you say that.

“Love you even more, princess.” He grunts out, leaning back on the seat to force himself deeper into your pussy, guiding your hips back and forth so you're grinding his cock inside of you, rubbing your pretty clit against his happy trail. You gasp at the sensation, your hands gripping into his shoulders as your brows furrow in pleasure.

“Daddy… daddy…” You gasp out as your orgasm hits, your lips parting as you gush all over him. The look on your face as you cum is enough to have his balls tighten, his teeth gritting as he starts to shallowly thrust into you once more, chasing his own release. You always cry when you cum, and Leon always kisses the tears away when you do, his lips pressing against the wetness on your cheeks repeatedly. Another part of the ritual, another moment repeating day after day.

“Want daddy to fill you up, sweet girl?” He grunts, nipping at your neck as he wraps his arms tight around your waist in a bear hug, holding you steady as he fucks up into your drippy cunt. “Gonna warm you up right in that cute lil’ tummy.”

His hips stutter as his orgasm hits him, his jaw going slack as he presses the tip of his cock right up against your cervix, filling you to the brim with his sticky cum. He slides a hand under your shirt, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into the skin of your tummy.

“That's it. Keep it all in, okay? Daddy doesn't want to see his little angel spill a single drop.” He says softly, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. He holds you there for a couple of minutes, cradling you against his chest until it's time to go to sleep.

Before bed that night, Leon ushers you into the bathroom. Like every night before this one, he gently grips your jaw with one hand as he stands behind you, his other hand gripping your pink princess toothbrush as he brushes your teeth, his eyes locked onto you through the mirror. At bedtime, he tucks you in and curls up behind you, spooning you with one hand on one of your tits, and the other wrapped tightly around your waist.

Tomorrow is a Friday. He wakes you up at 6.30 am with a kiss to your head as always, a warm cup of milk in one hand and your breakfast in the other. He feeds you off of a pink, plastic princess plate and presses a kiss to your lips before leaving at 7.30 am on the dot.

#leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #resident evil x you #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #tw dark content

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aajjks · 3 months

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I love you (m)

synopsis. He is so in love with you and it’s about time he let you know that.

warning. FLÜFF, lövèsïck töjï, hè ïs sö ïn lövê wïth yöü, kïssïng, än ädöräblê cönfêssïön, cöök!töji, FLÜFF FLÜFF FLÜFF! Söft!töjï. Böyfrǐěnd!töjï.

Toji is really learning to appreciate the little things whenever he’s with you.

No, you’re just so sweet and kind, even to someone like him, he’s definitely problematic and complicated, but you still keep up with him despite everything? Why? He wants to ask you but he never has enough courage to.

Funny right? That a shameless man like him feels too shy to ask his girlfriend a question that’s so simple and easy? You make him a different Man.

How? He’s always a smiling man whenever you’re around and he almost cries when he sees you crying over a sad movie that you two watch together sometimes. Or the fact that he wants to spoil you like you’re his everything, every penny he earns? He wants to give it you.

When he’s passing by a mall- he’s got this urge to go inside and buy you a nice present or some makeup supplies because he knows how much you love it.

You’re his princess and he’s your protector because the murderous urges he gets whenever you two are out and he sees multiple creeps staring at you like you’re some kind of a wonder-

Which you are, but only for Toji to look at and smile.

He’s definitely overly posessive and protective about you, you’ve been dating for what? Six or seven months but he already feels himself falling for you deeper and deeper for you.

So tonight, he’s finally going to say it- he knows that you want to hear him say it so badly, whenever a character on screen says ‘I love you’ to their female lead, your eyes are on him every time.

He’s waiting for you to come to his house, he did message you to meet at him at his place, you should be here soon- he’s eagerly waiting for you because he wants to surprise you.

Yeah, he doesn’t cook often at all? It’s all you, who’s always feeding your big guy with delicious meals and frankly he’s addicted to your cooking.

You’re giving his mama tough competition.

Toji did everything right, he’s kind of a perfectionist, especially when it comes to impressing you, everything has to be perfect.

The scented candles he got for this occasion are the perfect scent because they are exactly the ones you like, he noticed them in your home.

And the flowers are also your favorite, tulips. They’re your lock screen too that’s how obsessed you are with them, he can’t help but notice the littlest things about you.

It’s almost creepy.

And the food- oh he’s so proud of himself for cooking it- he was at it since the early morning honestly, but he’s not going to tell you about that.

In short, you’re going to love everything tonight.

Toji doesn’t flinch when he hears the door unlocking, his heartbeat flutters however, when he realizes that you’re here.

“Yn, princess you’re here.” He whispers as your scent immediately goes to his nostrils, and he inhales the sweet smell.

“Yeah, baby I missed you.” You walk over to him and he’s in the dining hall right past his living room, and when you’re back hug him, he feels his heart melting because you’re shorter compared to him and he’s big muscular and tall, you barely reach his shoulders- so instead, you wrap your arms around his muscular arms.

And then, when you finally notice something you gasp.

Toji smirks.

“Toji… don’t tell me you did all of this for me.” How do you have the most adorable voice in the whole universe? “Yes I did, honey.” Don’t blame him because you’re too adorable, and he has a habit of calling you every single nickname in the relationship book.

“Now come on and sit on the dining table, I bet you’re hungry.” He smiles, turning his back so he can look at your face.

And God knows you have the most beautiful face.

God definitely took time creating you- and he’s so glad.

With the most minimal make up on your face and with your hair down, he loves it when your hair is down, you pay so much attention to his likes and dislikes that just makes him love you even more.

Yes, he loves you and he’s going to tell you that officially tonight.

“Mhmm it smells so good and I noticed you got tulips and my favorite scented candles lit up.. your house always smells amazing.” You press a kiss right behind his ear before he pulls out your chair for you.

See now normally he doesn’t do these romantic things. He doesn’t remember the last time he did this. so he feels a little awkward doing this, but it doesn’t feel weird.

“Sit.” He then goes to his kitchen to grab the dishes. Some of them are traditional Japanese dishes because that’s all he really knows how to cook but don’t worry he got your favorite too.

You clap like a little girl when he puts the delicious food on the table for you, and it just makes his heart clench in his chest because you’re so sweet.

Toji sits right beside you, and before you can grab your plate and take the food yourself, he beats you to it because he wants to do it for you.

“Ahh yn let me do it.”

You give him a look and he continues with his work, “now eat, my love.” And just like that you both begin eating. Your occasional moans from the taste of the food Definitely distract him because he choked on his food for a good three times.

“D-Do you need water? I’m sorry but the food is just so delicious…. Can’t help it.” You say, as you stare at the curry in front of you.

“N-No yn just continue eating I’m sorry” he laughs, before diving in once again.

like the sweet girl that you really are you ask him about his day, even though he didn’t leave for work today he took the day off.

And then you start telling him about your day, and he loves to listen to your little rants. Your eyes get wide, and you make the most adorable expressions.

Just like that an hour goes by and you’re still sitting at the dining table when he’s picking up the dirty dishes, and yes, he insisted for you to get up and help him because this is not for you to do.

And he’s so glad that you loved his food because you keep on praising him and stop it before he blushes. “Ugh…” after he comes back from the kitchen after putting the dirty dishes in his dishwasher, toji takes your hand and guides you to the couch in the living room.

“Yn I have to tell you something.” And he’s nervous all over again. You look at him all look confused, “what is it babe?” There is honestly nothing for you to be concerned about so he should just say it before you get worried.

“Yn… I..I..” he’s stutters like the helpless man he is. You don’t speak you just not and look at him with love. And that gives him a little bit of motivation.

Come on, just say it, Toji!

before he can chicken out, you grab his hand and squeeze it, you know him so well, he inhales before taking a few seconds to compose himself and he looks into your eyes.

“I..I love you yn.” And now his heart feels so light, Toji doesn’t care if you’re not going to say it back, it’s okay, he’s a mature man- he can wait.

no please just say it back yn!

He is not looking at you anymore because as soon as the words leave his mouth, he tries to avert his eyes from you but you grab his face and now you’re making him look at you.

He’s sure you can feel the freshly shaved skin of his chin, you like the feeling a lot. Toji is silent, “I-It’s okay yn you don’t have-” but before he can complete his sentence, you kiss him.

And he cannot help but be surprised because he’s always the one that kisses you first, you’ve taken a lead this time and he’s amazed.

He kisses you back eagerly and you’re still grabbing his face so he settles his hands on your shoulders, and you both have the most romantic and passionate kiss ever.

He doesn’t want you to pull away, but to his dismay, you pull away after a few minutes, he just wants to bask in the feeling of your lips on his, you can never get enough of kissing you.

Before he can whine about the lack of contact, you push your head against his. You’re breathing loudly, he is panting, it is safe to say you left him speechless, and breathless.

“I always wanted to hear you say it and… I love you too.. I love you so much, Toji.”

He doesn’t believe the words that come out of your mouth because what the fuck. Toji’s can’t help but stare at you with his wide eyes. “Y-Yn do you really mean it? I..I.”

Once again, he’s speechless.

You smile at him before caressing his cheek.

“Of course silly. I just wanted you to say it first.” You give him a small kiss once more and he closes his eyes, thinking to himself that he’s so lucky man alive and he’s never going to let you go.

He won’t give you a chance to because he’ll make you so happy.

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bas-writes · 6 months

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50 Plus Size Y/N Prompts

When I was looking for an inspiration for a Nanami x chubby Y/N fic I realised that crushing majority of prompts and ideas are related exclusively to hurt/comfort or are drenched in extremely low self-esteem and lack of confidence. So, decided to put together my own list, covering a variety of situations from mundane and domestic to sensual and sexual. I based the ideas on my own experience as a fat person, so I'm aware they won't fit everyone, but I hope those can give you inspiration to explore in your creative work ❤ Of course, prompts are left to individual interpretation!

cw: some prompts are more gendered than the other, some are suggestive or addressing a strictly sexual situation

Leaving hickeys on thick thighs.

Wearing bigger partner's clothes. Bonus: bigger partner is not the chubbier one—it's the chubbier partner who gets to wear bigger clothes

Loving tummy kisses.

Lovingly or teasingly tracing fat rolls and love handles.

Nuzzling into soft chest or tummy for comfort.

Thick thighs save naps because they make the best lap pillow.

Fat person being picked up and/or carried around, no hassle, no protests of being too heavy, just sheer joy. Bonus: it's one of those crazy strong characters so they literally pick Y/N as if they were a doll.

Them being a personal heavy breast holder with built-in enthusiastic massage option.

Back massages because we all know that big chest weights way too much.

Ticklish kisses in the jaw area because they find the double chin cute.

Adoring to feel Y/N's weight in their lap.

Plus size lingerie. Them buying it for Y/N or Y/N showing off in it.

The way Y/N's chest/ass/thighs/tummy bounces during intimate times. It drives them crazy. Bonus: they're being ridden and enjoying every second of it.

Being in absolute awe of Y/N's figure.

Hugs from behind that do not necessarily end up with a full arm wrap but that's okay, one possibly can't envelop their whole universe.

Pulling Y/N closer so they can feel their big ass better.

Work out or a sport activity that's not related to weight loss or diet. Just enjoying active time together.

Finding it difficult to sleep without Y/N because they miss the body they can embrace and/or the warmth it gives.

Stimming or teasingly playing with Y/N's softer parts.

Foodie dates. Testing new places, taking tons of photos for their food instagram, feeding each other cute desserts, stealing the best pieces—or contrary, leaving them for their partner.

Y/N loves to eat and their love adores it because they have someone to enjoy their cooking.

Both them and Y/N love to cook and eat. A friendly rivalry over feeding the other better.

Tons of photos of Y/N and selfies with them. Every moment has to be caught on their camera. Bonus: they are a celebrity or social media persona & they love to show off with Y/N's photos.

Daily affirmations, soft words and touch related to body type, all those compliments and smooth lines.

Reminding Y/N to eat because no, the "fat supply" won't make up for a good meal, they have to eat regularly.

Gender affirmation when the fat body type sometimes can make it difficult for Y/N.

The shared celebration of gender euphoria when Y/N finally finds a way to nicely flatten and shape the chest.

Choosing Y/N because they are fat. Them being into bigger people and actively choosing them over people with different body types.

Seeing Y/N naked for the first time and going absolutely crazy about it.

Tracing and kissing stretch marks.

Yoga pants effect. The curves just look so good in them.

Looking together for a good supporting bra.

Loving when Y/N is wearing a crop top.

Encouraging Y/N to wear more close-fit clothes Bonus: there is absolutely no perverted reason behind it ;)

Supporting Y/N through weight gain or weight loss.

Enjoying a beach date. Every body is a good beach body if it has a cute beach wear on!

Scratching/washing Y/N's back because sometimes it's just hard to reach that stubborn spot.

Muscular body type partner x fat Y/N. Big partners solidarity!

Discussing together a new tattoo idea. Choosing the best placing for it. Bonus: it's a tattoo composed to fit nicely with fat rolls or stretch marks.

Helping Y/N shave the back of their legs or any other hard to reach part of their body.

Insisting on keeping Y/N's thighs close to their head during oral sex.

Treating rash/burn caused by friction between thighs, bra or other piece of clothing.

Shibari or harness on a plus size body.

Picking up the self ironic negative talk and turning it into something positive

Being proud of Y/N, showing them off whenever there's an opportunity.

Y/N posing them for a photo, painting or a sculpture. Bonus: Y/N is their muse.

Warming hands between Y/N's thighs. Bonus: maybe their cheeks or ears feel cold too ;)

Them wearing Y/N's shirt for comfort. Bonus: it's not a typical over-sized comfort piece of clothing but a perfect fit. They still insist on wearing it.

Hand and bite marks on ass and hips. Bonus: loving aftercare.

Doodling/painting on Y/N's body: thighs, arms, ass… Bonus: it's a part of a spicy play.

Please, reblog and/or credit, when you use (but don't @ me!). The divider made by @/saradika.

#writing prompts #plus size reader #chubby reader #fat reader #plus size y/n #chubby y/n #fat y/n #bas writes

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cloudcountry · 10 months

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hELLO THERE <3 i would like to perhaps request a reader that has a weak immune system with Leona, Jamil, Idia?

- Reader is weak frequently and gets sick easily, while viruses or illnesses are incubating in them they’re overly tired. They get fevers often and when they’re sick they’re prone to hallucinations and delusions- like one night they can hear colors and green tells them to eat cake (this happened 2 me <3 i’m sick rn)

they wander around at night a lot bc they’re delirious when sick and it’s a lil silly

they also apologize a lot for burdening s/o when they’re sick bc they’re sick so often

i hope u don’t mind the details ;; have a great

day night evening 🌽

SUMMARY: Leona, Jamil, and Idia with a S/O that has a weak immune system.

WARNINGS: None!!

COMMENTS: i hope you feel better soon!! :C <3 i didnt mind the details at all <33 i hope your day/night is lovely as well, thank you!!

When Leona learns about your weakened immune system, he suggests you join the Savanaclaw dorm for their daily exercise with a mocking grin on his face. He isn’t doing it to be mean, he’s just teasing in his typical Leona way.

Hell, you’ll even be invited to Spelldrive practice since he heard exercising can help with your weakened immune system. If you’d prefer to stay in his room and keep the lights off, however, he’ll accept that as well. After all, nobody besides Ruggie is going to enter his room.

If you apologize for being a burden he’ll shrug it off. If you were a burden, he would have thrown you to the wolves a while ago. He takes care of you because he cares about you. You’re not forcing him to do anything.

He makes you balanced and healthy meals when you’re sick (and if you ask nicely, he might feed you hehe.) Sometimes Kalim will burst into your room and try to, ahem, help, but Jamil always shoos him away.

If you ever thank him for taking care of you and imply that it’s hard work, Jamil will sigh and tell you that he’s here because he wants to be. You’re not forcing him to do anything against his will.

And because he hates a lack of freedom, you know he’s being genuine. (Although he will get a bit teasing when you talk about colors talking to you.)

Idia, oh Idia. He has absolutely no idea what to do. He'll offer you some of his shitty packaged ramen noodles with a shaky hand and a soft voice. Also, his room is deathly cold because of his computer systems so you’re going to have to heap on the blankets if you want to stay cool!!

Ortho is your saving grace, looking up recipes and helping Idia come up with home remedies to help you feel just a little bit better.

Idia’s still a bit shy when it comes to you, and honestly the day when he’ll finally open up may be far off, but when you complain about being a burden he just mumbles something about how you’re not and not to worry.

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coryosbaby · 7 months

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Come back to me, please !

Fandom: “Queen of the Damned”

Pairing: Sub! Lestat De Lioncourt x fem! Reader

Synopsis: You return to your lover.

Cw: blood drinking, nsfw . handjobs, p n v, riding, creampie, cockwarming

A bath.

A bubble bath, to be exact— equipped with strawberry scented soap, rose petals and epsom salts. Lestat, there, at the far corner of the large tub. And your robe, with a soft flourish, dropping to the floor.

Your long lost love, beautiful & almost god like, was hard to find. But after all these years, he’s finally come home to you.

His eyes are glazed, playful. He watches as you step inside the tub. Naked, you’re the most beautiful thing Lestat has ever seen. Sitting down at the opposite end of him, you turn the lights in the room down with a flick of your wrist.

“The roses are a nice touch,” Lestat teases to you. A small smirk plays on his lips. “Always.. extra. As usual.”

“And you’ve missed it?”

Of course he has. He’s missed every single part of you. Most of all, the spot between your legs— the spot that’s hidden under crimson petals.

“I may have.”

The water rushes. Lestat leans forward, beginning to crawl to you. A predator catching his prey, almost. But you know that’s not why he’s approaching you.

He wants to be the hunted. He wants you to take control, as you always have.

His body, perfectly lean and pale, leans into you. His breath is hot on your lips, as he sits on his knees. You smirk, watching as his eyes beg to touch you. He can feel your blood rushing— pump, pump, pump. His favorite meal. He leans in, fangs brushing over your neck. But you tsk, and grasp his hair firmly in your hands. You pull him away.

“I don’t think so,” you say. “What have you done to deserve this, Lestat?”

He exhales heavily, and when your thumb brushes against his bottom lip he nicks it with his teeth.

“I’ve waited for you,” he states. “I’ve waited all this time…”

He breathes you in. Watches the way your face looks incredibly pleased.

“Please, my love.”

And oh, when he begs. Perfect, silky and angelic toned in such a way that is not him. So eager, so needy…

You hesitate for a moment, but alas you can’t say no to him.

“Only a little.” You warn.

The answer has him keening against you, smiling as his hands pull your head to the side. And with spit slick lips he sinks his fangs into you. Your eyes roll back, a gasp leaving your lips as he suckles from your jugular. While most are pained when fed, the feeling of Lestat being inside you in more ways than one has you moaning and pleading for him to drain the life from your eyes.

“Oh, gods…”

Your vision gets blurry, and with a shaky but firm voice you whisper, “Darling, that’s enough.”

Lestat, although one not known for his sense of control, listens. He pulls from you, biting his own lips and licking them hastily. He doesn’t want to waste a drop of your essence. You tilt your head back and try to compose yourself. You recover quickly from things, so it only takes you a few seconds to feel back to normal again.

Your hands wrap around Lestat’s neck, and you push him against the wall of the tub. You turn around so you’re in his original position, and he groans as your sharp nails dig into his neck.

“My turn,” you say.

Your lips graze his neck and chest. The neck would be where you get the most blood, but you want to drag this out— it’s what you’ve always done in intimate times like these. Break Lestat down, sink your teeth deep. Make him hazy and desperate with lust. He looks best when he’s in pieces.

You bring a finger up to one of his nipples. You rub him there, and he lets out a tiny whine. Your fangs scrape against it, and right below this spot you decide to sink your fangs in him. Suckling, his taste is absolutely divine. He whimpers, and you watch as his gorgeous head of hair tilts back in a sort of pained/pleasured stance.

Oh, Lestat.

It’s the most pleasure you’ve ever felt— Lestat.

There, your little fledgling, naked with his cock hard and feeding you the most important part of him.

Your fangs leave him and make another spot right next to that one, on the very other side. You drink, drink, drink. Blood runs down your chin, neck, breasts, and into the water below. You leave him, find another spot— his neck. Perfect, warm crimson. All yours.

Lestat doesn’t tell you to let up. He’s gotten like this, ever since the two of you had first made love. He would let you drain him of everything he had if it forsake your satisfaction. His vision almost goes out for a moment, before you pull away. You always know when it’s too much for him.

You chuckle, pleasured and full.

But not full enough, you decide.

You brush against his cock, hidden under the water. He’s thick, long. You know if you were to taste him right now it would be just as good as his blood. But that can wait for another day— you wrap your hand around him and stroke.

His lashes flutter, mouth falling open. He’s dizzy, horny, hot… how ironic. A vampire, all hot and bothered.

“Oh, thank you, goddess..” he praises. “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much..”

You smile. Your hand speeds up, and for the first time that night you bring yourself up and kiss him. Your teeth clack together at first, but you soon adjust and sloppily press your lips against your lover’s. Your cunt clenches, empty. You need to feel his cock inside you soon, or you think you’ll go crazy. Your free hand scrapes against the nape of his neck and he whines out for you to fuck him.

“And I will, darling,” you reply to him. Your hand leaves his aching cock and wraps around his neck. You rest your face in his neck as you grab his cock with your other hand and position it below your entrance. You slick yourself up by rubbing his throbbing tip against your clit. It feels so nice, and you press him into your hole with one swift stroke. Lestat moans loudly, his hands going down to your hips to push you further down onto his thick cockhead. You adjust in due time, though it takes a moment. You’ll never get used to his size.

“My good little fledgling,” you purr, almost like a cat. “Does your cock get this hard for all those little blood whores you bring home?”

The words are teasing, but have a hint of malice to them. You don’t like sharing your things, and your jealousy hasn’t gone unnoticed by Lestat since you’ve returned. Though you know no woman could compare to you, the stupidity of men has never been an impossibility. But, regardless, Lestat seems equally as revolted by the idea.

“Never,” he grunts out. His fingers spread your asscheeks as to bottom out harder in you. “You’re the only woman I want, the only one I’ll ever need…”

You mewl, beginning to bounce on him. He feels so thick, fills you up so perfectly. His hips are moving up, fucking into you from underneath. You can feel your clit brushing up against his pelvis, can feel his pubic hair brushing up against you. It’s pure bliss. You pull on his hair with one hand and kiss him again.

“I bet you thought about me when you fucked those whores,” you mutter out. “I bet you thought about my wet cunt, filling me up with your cum. Thought about my mouth, my hands…”

“I never—“

He gasps when you clench down on him.

“Oh, I never fucked them!” he whimpers out. “I couldn’t! I was waiting for you to come back, goddess. I couldn’t— I couldn’t. I’ve always been yours.”

You’re pleased by his answer, and he throbs inside of you. By the look on his face you can tell that he’s close.

“Mine.” You growl out. Your grip on him tightens as your possessiveness glazes your features. “That’s right. All fucking mine.”

And as his hips stutter and he chokes up on his words, you make sure to leave a long, deep scratch on his collar bone. A marking, a symbol of your ownership.

“Cum inside me.” You demand to him. “Fill up my pussy. Show me you’re mine.”

He whines, loud. His cock spills thick ropes into your cunt and fills you to the brim. He reaches down, rubs your clit with his fingers. Your orgasm washes over you in gigantic waves. Lestat always makes sure to give you a release, and that you’re thankful for.

A few moments pass, as you both breathe heavily. His cock is softened inside you, but you both make no move to remove yourselves for each other. Lestat seems exhausted, tired. His eyes drift close against your chest as you sit there on top of him.

Yours.

#queen of the damned #Lestat de lioncourt #Lestat de Lioncourt x reader #Lestat de Lioncourt smut #Lestat queen of the damned #queen of the damned fanfic #vampires #I ❤️ vampires

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ikigaisvt · 5 months

Text

lucky

in which your boyfriend realizes how lucky he is to have you.

pairing: idol!jeonghan x gender neutral!reader words: 1.6k content: fluff, comfort warnings: jeonghan is exhausted/sad and he cries, petnames (for jeonghan: angel, babe, baby, love / for reader: precious), mention of food and eating. note 1.0: omg sammy posting smth?!?? thought we'd never see that again,,, felt like writing fluff lately since i feel there's a Lot of smut for seventeen so here i am feeding my own wishes note 2.0: this idea came after seeing the last inside seventeen where jeonghan looked tired at the end (and it's so unusual of him, to show how tough something is). also felt awful yesterday night, and instead of being comforted by him, i wished to comfort him. minors are allowed to interact but please don't follow. hope everyone likes it, please be nice i haven't wrote anything in month,, reblog/feedbacks are always appreciated!

Jeonghan has always felt lucky to be an idol. Of course, as any job does, it has its downsides – and this one has a lot, despite what he can say. He never once complained about his job, no matter what can happen. Being able to share his love for music to his fans, his brothers by his side is the biggest blessing of his life. That is well known to his family, his fans but mostly you, his partner, who hears him pours his heart out about his job until dawn.

However, there are days when it is harder than usual; days where practice or filming is so hard, he wishes to go home and sleep the worries away; days where he questions if he actually was made for that job. Today, that came in the form of a hard practice. What maybe Jeonghan hasn’t realized yet is how lucky he is to have you, especially at the end of a tough day.

You haven’t seen your boyfriend a lot lately as he was busier than usual; preparing for his new comeback as well as going overseas to film content. However, as he has been back from Hungary a few days ago, you knew you’d be able to see him again today. You spent hours cleaning your apartment, cooking his favorite meals and stocking up on his favorite drinks, picking shows and music to listen to so you could spend the night talking, catching up together and laughing at the new memories he made. You were looking forward to it, but most importantly, you were looking forward to seeing him again. To feel his presence, to hear his voice and laugh and to be able to touch him. Oh, how much you missed him.

As you finished preparing everything for him, you were lounging on your couch, the TV playing quietly in the background. Looking at the hour on your phone, you realized it was almost 11pm – which meant you were only minutes away from seeing your boyfriend. Getting up from the couch, you went to the kitchen to warm up his meal. You started pulling out different plates – jajagmyeon, tangsuyuk, kimchi pancakes and tteokbokki. "Okay, maybe I made too much this time, but I just want him to eat well," you think out loud. While you were filling smaller plates with side dishes, you heard the door opening, signaling that your boyfriend was finally home. Leaving the food behind, you left the kitchen to find your boyfriend – disheveled, hair picking out in all ways and tiredness showing on his face, struggling to get his shoes off.

“Jeonghan,” you call out to him softly, his head lifting up to find your eyes. And that’s when you realize how tired he really is. His smile is meekly showing up, his hair looks like he ran his hand through it multiple times – which is something he does when he is frustrated, dark circles are showing under his eyes but mostly, his eyes look sad, the usual playful lightness in them gone. “Are you okay?” you ask, your hand reaching out to him to let him know he is not alone.

“I-” he starts, his voice breaking a little bit, before clearing his throat, “I’m okay, I just can’t seem to get my shoes off.” he says, bending once again to work on the shoelaces.

You watch him for only a few seconds before sitting on the little step in your entryway, “Here, let me help you,” you say, gently tapping the floor in front of you, silently telling him to put his feet forward as you chase his fingers away.

“Babe, no-” he starts protesting, his fingers brushing with yours, trying to untie the knot faster.

“Shh,” you say calmly, getting a hold of his fingers, squeezing and letting go to work on the knots again, his feet slightly moving towards you, “You really tightened those well. That’s good, don’t want you falling down on your shoelaces during practice.” You say lightly, trying to make your boyfriend lighten up. You get his first shoe off, placing it gently next to yours, before working on the second one. As you were almost done with the second knot, you feel something wet falling on your hand, and you look up to see Jeonghan looking down at you, eyes filled with tears.

“Hey, hey, hey,” you say, getting a hold of his hand, “You’re okay, it’s fine,” you reassure him, squeezing his fingers tighter as he looks away from you, ears slightly red from the embarrassment of crying in front of you, his girlfriend. That’s such a Jeonghan thing, you tell yourself, “Let me get this one off and then we’ll get you to the couch, okay?” you tell him, earning a little nod as an answer. You get his second shoe off in record time and gently get up from the ground as you reach out for his hand, pulling him behind you as you lead him to the living room.

Reaching the couch, you make him sit down first before sitting down next to him, pulling your linked hands on your lap, your thumb slightly caressing his hand, “Are you okay?” you ask gently, trying to find his eyes but all he does is look down at his lap.

“I’m okay- Sorry about all this, practice was hard and I know you were excited about having a good time but stuffs happened and yeah-” he starts ranting as you listen intently to whatever he has to say, “Ah, sorry again. I’m rambling. I’m okay,” he says again, almost as he tries to convince himself, too, “Really.” He confirms as he meets your eyes, his smile not even reaching his cheeks.

“Love, you may be able to lie to your members but this doesn’t work with me,” you chuckle slightly, “What can I do?”

“I-” he starts, blush creeping on his neck again, his eyes looking around the room, “Will you hold me?” he whispers, hoping you heard him right as he finds your eyes again.

“Of course, angel,” you say as you lean back on the couch, opening your arms for him, his head finding a place to rest on your chest, “Let’s just stay like that for a little while, hm?” you whisper as you start running your fingers through his hair, “You can tell me anything, in case you need to pour it out.”

A few minutes passes by where you can only hear his soft breath – and little sniffles, his body slightly relaxing into yours as if it realizes it’s now finally home. “Practice was so hard today,” he says softly, his arm squeezing your waist a little more, your shirt getting wet with more tears, “That new choreography requires so much attention to details and we need to keep our energy up throughout all of it. I guess I wasn’t prepared to put that much work in it today.” He sighs as you let him know you’re still listening through little hums, “And we’ve just been back from Hungary, my body is still used to that time zone so I have a hard time sleeping. Also, I’ve missed you so I haven’t been able to recharge my batteries at all.” He admits, knowing he would have felt better if he saw you more in the past month.

“I’ve missed you too,” you tell him, leaving a little kiss on the top of his head.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes again, “For my mood and for ruining tonight.” He says softly, as more tears fall down.

“Baby, angel,” you say, your voice almost breaking to seeing your boyfriend like this, “Please don’t ever be sorry. Your job is not easy, you’re doing so much at all times and you do it well. It’s only normal for you to break down from time to time,” you whisper, running your fingers down his back, “I am so glad you decided to still come to me. It means the world. Please always come to me,” you tell him as he looks up at you, “Anytime you break down, I’ll help you build yourself up stronger, okay? You didn’t ruin anything, you’ll never do so. Your presence is always welcomed, no matter your mood. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, precious.” He says, as he gets up a little to meet your lips. You can taste the sadness – and the saltiness of his tears – on his lips as you take it away from him, take everything bad away from him, lodging it deep in your own body. So it can never hurt him again. You kiss once, you kiss twice, you kiss thrice; you kiss until there is no more sadness within him. You kiss until he can feel how you will always be here for him.

“Feeling better?” you question as you pull away from his lips, brushing hair out of his face and meeting his now shining eyes.

“Very much so,” he chuckles lightly, his forehead resting on yours, “Thank you,” he says, leaving a kiss on your forehead before finding rest on your shoulder.

“Wanna eat now?” you ask, still running your fingers along his back.

“Yes actually,” he says, looking up at you, “I’m so hungry,” he says in a whisper, still making no attempt to move away from you.

“I made so much, I hope you’ll love it,” you answer him, still not getting up either.

“Let’s just- Let’s just stay like this for a little longer, hm?” he tells you, wrapping his arms around your middle, cuddling even closer – if that’s even possible, “Food can wait.”

Jeonghan truly feels lucky to be an idol – on most days, at least. But if he had to mention one thing, he feels the luckiest about – it’s to be your boyfriend.

aaaaa thank you so much for reading! i forgot how nervewracking it was to post something- please like, reblog, comment and i'll love you forever!!

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waddingham · 27 days

Note

oH Ted as the 'someone coming every week to cook and stock her fridge with meals'!! your brain does so much good work and I am so thankful we get to reap the benefits <33

yeah!!!!!! and i couldn't think straight until I got rid of it!!! here take this it's killing me!!

She begs Phillip to keep her on. She begs him, tries to double his fee even, to keep him from total retirement, but he's steadfast in his decision.

The thought of hunting down another chef is horrific. But he gives her no choice.

She blows through them like tissues for three months, suffering over-complicated meals, over-powering flavors, chefs clearly trying to impress as if she wants a Michelin star meal every night. She doesn't – if that was what she wanted she knows exactly where to get it.

When she's at home she just wants good food, that's easy to reheat and easy to eat. Which is how she ends up finally succumbing to Leslie's repeated insistence that she give his man a chance.

“He comes over once a month,” he tells her, more than once. “Puts together some things we can freeze and just pop in the oven. Simple enough for the boys to do it, so Julie and I can have at least a couple evenings where they can feed themselves.”

He brightens when she gives and asks for his info, and when she gives him a call, she's struck dumb hearing his American accent.

She's running out of options, so she takes a chance on him.

She taps her fingers on the counter, waiting for the doorbell, checking her watch when she finally hears it. He's perfectly on time, but she feels like she's already searching for a reason to be disappointed with him.

He has a pleasant smile for her, though, and a friendly demeanor and a firm handshake and a handsome face – none of which she can immediately find fault in as they introduce themselves.

“I'm sure you're busy,” he says as she leads him to the kitchen. “So I appreciate you taking the time to let me peek at the kitchen and ask you a couple questions.”

“Of course,” she says, used to the procedure by now. Most of them have some kind of sheet they have her fill out, usually via email, but she doesn't mind taking a moment to meet the person who's going to be cooking her food.

“Oh, this is nice,” he compliments, looking around the kitchen, as he sets down the backpack hooked on his shoulder.

“Thank you,” she says, gesturing for him to claim a stool. “Though you can probably infer from your presence that it gets little use.”

“That's okay, I'll go easy on it,” he chuckles, pulling a binder from his bag and opening it up on the counter. “First, though, I wanna make sure I know what I'm cooking.”

He doesn't have a questionnaire or the like, it seems. The lined paper in front of him is blank before he scrawls her name at the top.

“How many people am I cooking for, first of all?” he says without looking up.

She licks her lips, her gaze shifting.

“Just me.” She keeps her tone matter-of-fact. She hopes.

The way he glances up makes her doubt whether she managed it.

“Makin’ it easy on me already,” he says with a soft smile, adding a 1 to the corner of his sheet. “You have any allergies or dietary restrictions?”

“No,” she says, then adds, “Though, I do have the tendency to drop meat for a while every so often.”

“A part-time vegetarian?”

She cracks half a smile. “Sure.”

“Okay,” he chuckles. “What kinda meals are you after? Breakfast, lunch, dinner?”

“Dinner, mostly, though I won't say no to the occasional breakfast. Mostly out of curiosity.”

She doesn't think any of the chefs she's hired have offered to make breakfasts.

“I make a mean frittata,” he grins. “What do you like, then? What are some of your favorites, so I can get a feel for what you want?”

“When I eat at home, I want quick and easy,” she says. “The less steps for me, the better. I don't want extravagant, elaborate meals. Shepherd's pie, any kind of pasta, soups, salads. Fish, chicken, red meat on occasion, not every week preferably. Anything veg heavy will probably be a hit with me.”

He nods, taking rapid notes in what must be a very familiar format to him. He fires off a few more questions for her, elaborating a bit further on what she likes before switching gears.

“Anything you absolutely don't want?”

“Not especially,” she says. “I don't like to limit a new chef too soon. I'd rather you make me your best and I'll let you know.”

“Uh oh,” he smiles.

He does that a lot.

“Am I on trial?”

She opens her hands up, giving him a small smile and he chuckles.

“I've had six chefs in ten weeks,” she tells him. “So yes, maybe a little bit.”

“Why didn't they fit the bill?” he asks curiously. “So I can avoid a similar fate.”

“I don't think they quite believed me when I told them how simple I wanted things,” she says. “Too many sauces and sides and heat this up separately and put this on this. If I want a five course meal, I know where to get one. When I get home from work, I want to throw something in the oven or dump it on a plate and microwave it, not anything glamorous.”

He looks pleased to hear it – he seems to actually relax slightly, as if he'd been uncertain he could deliver on what she wanted.

“Well, I can guarantee you that going too fancy will not be a problem with me,” he says, writing a few more things down. “I'm used to basic.”

“Good.”

“I've got Tuesday afternoons free, if we're doing every week.”

She nods.

“Between noon and four, if that works for you.”

“I'll be at work, so you'll have free reign,” she says, opening a drawer on the island and pulling a house key from it. “Make yourself at home.”

“Alrighty,” he says, taking it from her. She watches him pull a roll of masking tape and a ring of maybe half a dozen keys from his bag. He rips off a piece of tape and labels it with an RW before adding it to the keyring.

“If you ever have any requests, that number you have is my cell. Shoot me a text before Tuesday if you want it that week, or you can leave me a note.”

“Okay.”

“And let me know if you think of anything else you want me to know,” he says, starting to pack everything away again. “If you hate olives or can't stand Bleu cheese.”

“I love olives,” she says emphatically. “And there's no kind of cheese I will refuse.”

“Cheese is the best, right?” he remarks. “They're all good. Yellow, white, hard, soft. Even stinky, moldy…still good.”

She snorts a bit, but fully agrees.

“I'm pretty much always stocked with fresh mozzarella to nibble on so feel free to help yourself.”

“Oh, don't tell me that,” he says, shaking his head. “I'll clean you out every week.”

She chuckles as he throws his backpack over his shoulder.

She sees him out, intrigued now to see what he cooks up for her.

When she gets home on Tuesday, there's a delicate cacophony of smells hanging in the air and she remembers for the first time today – after a long, trying weekend – that Ted was meant to come.

And apparently did.

The kitchen is spotless (thank God – chef number two had a tendency to slack on the cleaning up bit) and she eagerly makes her way to the fridge.

Each covered pan has a strip or two of tape on top – 35 minutes @ 175° the small square one requests. Thank God. One singular step.

If it tastes like shit, she's going to cry.

It reveals itself to be a lasagna and she flips the oven on, lets it get hot while she peeks at the rest of what he's made, then pops it in the oven while she goes upstairs and gets comfortable.

She notices the extra pan by the kettle when she comes back down, this one without a lid, left on a trivet.

Three neat rows of shortbread lie within it, a note flat on the counter in front of it.

A little extra treat – maybe a bribe so I don't end up being Disappointing Chef Number 7 – and a thanks for giving me a shot. I'm told these are a winner with a cup of tea.

He's signed it with a mustached smiley face that makes her chuckle.

They smell divine. She can't resist prying one up and taking a bite.

“Oh, fuck me,” she mutters to herself, looking at the biscuit with a bit of wonder as it melts on her tongue, perfectly sweet and salty.

Oh, wow. She glances at the oven, then the pan in front of her.

She might have struck gold.

Everything is delicious. He's clearly not a professional five star chef, but every bite has her in disbelief.

It's just so good. She was skeptical, but he even nails a shepherd's pie for her, dumping cheese on top without her even requesting it. Nothing is unpleasant or poorly made, nothing has her thinking to text him and tell him she didn't love it. His portions are more than enough for her and she frequently takes what's left to the office with her. She has never taken lunch with her to work. Ever.

His cooking tastes like dining at a friend's house, like family made it, like he loves cooking for people and puts it in every bite.

And the biscuits. She finished the pan before the week was even out, unable to help herself.

She's a little bit devastated when there are none on the following Tuesday.

She leaves a note the next time she expects him.

Any chance for biscuits again?

She's ecstatic to find a fresh pan when she gets home.

She's nursing her last three by the weekend, determined to make them last long enough to request more.

I hope no notes is a good thing?

She's been meaning to text him, tell him how pleased she is with everything he's made, but it continued to slip her mind.

How am I doing?

No notes is a very good thing, she sends back. Everything has been absolutely delicious.

Oh good :)

I love to hear it

The biscuits have become a problem though

No biscuits next week then?

God no

I'm hooked on them

Don't do that to me

You got it boss

She almost laughs at herself when she gets home.

She's turning down dinner dates and good-looking men in favor of a date with the container labeled prosciutto stuffed chicken breast in her fridge that she's been thinking about all day.

He'd probably get a kick out of the fact that his food is so good it's ruining her dating prospects, but that's most definitely not something she'll be telling him.

She gets herself a little bit of this week's salad while she waits on the oven – romaine with candied walnuts, dried cranberries, gorgonzola, sliced green apple with a deliciously sharp vinaigrette. She peruses the fridge in her typical Wednesday fashion – on Tuesday evenings she's made a habit of grabbing the first thing she sees and letting him surprise her – looking for the small container of sauce that the lid of the chicken makes mention of.

She chuckles when she sees it. Some of his notes on things have gotten more elaborate, sometimes teasing, sometimes with a wine pairing suggestion, sometimes just with a little smiley face. The lid for the sauce only says creamy pesto, but there's masking tape wrapped in a spiral over its sides, covered with writing.

I know, I'm gonna get in trouble for making a separate sauce for something but all you gotta do is dump it on when it's done! It's worth the extra step I promise!

She snickers around her salad, setting it on the counter.

It's well, well worth the extra step.

When she gets home on Tuesday, she's unexpectedly greeted by a strong, delicious smell and noise from the kitchen. She leaves her heels and her coat before turning into the kitchen.

Ted's at the stove, looking almost mortified as he immediately starts apologizing.

“I'm sorry, Rebecca, I'm so behind today, but this is my last one and then I'll clean up and get out of here–” he rambles, but she's taking him in more than listening. Namely, she's taking in his tired bloodshot eyes and his disheveled hair and the way his hands shake as he gestures to the mess of the kitchen.

“I'm sorry–”

“No, Ted, it's alright,” she insists. “It's not a problem.”

“I'm almost done.”

“Are you okay?” she asks gently.

“Yeah, yeah, I'm fine, I just need to finish this…”

She frowns and rounds the island, unconvinced and unsettled – he's almost frantic with energy.

“Come here.”

He frowns as she pulls him away from the stove.

“No, it'll burn–”

“In which case I'll survive with one less meal,” she says firmly, pushing him to the dining table. “Sit.”

He does – reluctantly – and she gets him a glass of water.

“Take a deep breath. Relax,” she insists before stepping to the stove. The pan there has a sauce in the making, a plate of meatballs next to it, as well as a pot of water getting hot.

“What needs done here?” she asks.

“I can–”

“Stop,” she commands, lifting a brow at him before he can rise. “Sit. Just tell me.”

“The, the cream needs to go in,” he says. “Give it a second, then the other two little bowls there, the Dijon and the Worcestershire and then the spices.”

“Okay,” she says, keeping her voice steady, hoping it'll relax him, show him she's far from upset that he's still here.

She follows his instructions, pouring the measuring cup of cream in and mixing it with the little whisk that's already there. She lets it get hot, then adds the rest, stirring it in.

“What am I making?” she asks with a small smile.

“Swedish meatballs,” he supplies, sounding distracted. “One of my favorites.”

“Swedish, hmm?”

“Well, I can't speak to them being authentic,” he says. “Recipe was my mom's. And she's definitely not Swedish.”

It smells delicious – whatever spices she just added were warm and aromatic and it makes her mouth water.

“What next?”

“Uh, turn the heat down and let it simmer,” he says. “Needs to thicken.”

She dutifully turns the stove down and then joins him, taking a seat next to him.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing,” he deflects, “I'm fine. Just…didn't sleep so good and then this morning was…I'm fine.��

She doesn't push, seeing how much effort he's putting into forcing a smile and changes course.

“Do you have anywhere else to be today?” she asks.

“No, no, you're my last client on Tuesdays.”

“Then stay,” she insists, gesturing to the stove. “Looks like enough for two.”

“I shouldn't,” he tries, shaking his head. “I should get out of your hair.”

“You're not in my hair,” she asserts. “I would enjoy the company and I'm most certainly not complaining about getting a meal fresh off the stove.”

He looks her over for a moment, presumably looking for any hint of falsehood before he nods a bit haltingly.

She smiles.

“Should, uh, should put the meatballs back in to finish ‘em,” he murmurs. “And get the noodles on.”

“Yes, chef,” she says, giving him a wink when he finally smiles.

“I'll do it,” he says, and she lets him this time for how much calmer he seems. She occupies herself by offering him a drink and pouring herself a glass of wine. He accepts a couple fingers of a scotch he's apparently had his eye on for the last few weeks and she watches with interest as he takes a sip.

“Oh, that's nice,” he mutters.

“The only one I buy anymore.”

“You have excellent taste, I have to say,” he remarks. “Thank you.”

She helps him get the rest of the dinner together and is glad to see him relax more and more, until he's smiling easy as they both sit at the island with bowls of noodles and meatballs.

“Well, it smells fantastic,” she says, eagerly stabbing a forkful of noodles and half a meatball.

It's delicious. Creamy and warm and truly everything about it screams comfort food.

“Oh, Christ,” she mumbles around it.

“Yeah? That one a winner?”

She nods emphatically, eyeing him as she chews.

“Nothing you make is bad,” she mumbles, watching him take his own bite.

“That's ‘cause I only make what I know I can make good for you,” he chuckles.

“Why's that?” she asks. He can take a chance on her – he's built up plenty of faith in him already. One bad meal isn't going to have her canning him.

“Oh, to impress of course,” he says with a crooked smile that she returns.

“You've already done so,” she says. “I haven't had a single thing I didn't like.”

“I'm very happy to hear it,” he says, sounding very genuine about it.

They eat slowly because conversation comes very easily. Whether it's the drink or the distraction of her company, he's light-years away from the frazzled ball of anxiety she was met with.

“Safe to assume you don't enjoy cooking much, huh?” he asks her as they both scrape their bowls.

“I don't think I would mind it if I had ever learned,” she muses. “But I've had a cook for most of my life and learning how now just to feed myself seems more trouble than it's worth.”

“You've had a cook most of your life?”

“My parents kept one when I was a kid, and then when I was married, my ex-husband insisted on a cook,” she says, half rolling her eyes. “Thank you, by the way, for not inundating me with pork pies and sausage rolls and roasts and dousing everything in gravy.”

“I enjoy a good gravy, but, oof, that's heavy eatin’ right there.”

“Too heavy,” she agrees. “Though my tastes were rarely taken into account.”

He hums as he wipes his mouth and she finds understanding in his eyes.

“How long were you married?” he inquires.

“Twelve years,” she says slowly.

“That's a lot of gravy,” he says more seriously than the words might call for. She hears his meaning plain enough.

“Yes. It was.”

“Well,” his tone brightens a bit, “now you got me to make whatever you please.”

“Too right,” she chuckles, sipping her wine. “And it's always spectacular. I don't know how you do it, what you're lacing everything with…”

“Oh, I just make sure I put a little love in everything, that's all,” he grins.

She takes in the sight of him, smiling and content, his creased eyes warm, and she likes this. She's enjoying this. She likes him.

It's so hard to know though, even as his eyes move over her face, the quiet stretching long, if she likes him or if she's simply missed enjoying a comfortable meal at home without having to do it alone.

Her eyes drop, aware of how intensely she’s looking at him. She's not sure when it happened but they're both turned completely towards each other on their stools, leaning on the counter, and his fingertips are right there at the edge of hers – the mere straightening of her fingers would bring them into contact.

“I appreciate you letting me stay and have some of your dinner,” he says softly.

“You made it,” she offers with a grin.

“You paid for it,” he returns.

“It's not a problem at all,” she says, meaning it wholeheartedly. “It's nice to have some company.”

“I'm gonna be honest with you, Rebecca, you don't seem like a woman who would have any problem finding company.”

Her brows lift alongside the corners of her mouth, a little internally delighted by his boldness.

“I think I'll take that as a compliment,” she grins.

“As it was meant,” he assures.

“In which case…I'll amend to say it's nice to have such comfortable and easy company.”

His cheeks round, his gaze dropping in something akin to bashfulness and she thinks it really might just be him that's growing on her.

“I’m glad you stayed,” she says, her smile slanting crookedly. “Even if I pretty much made you.”

“I didn't wanna impose. You were very kind to give me a second to…calm down.”

She's not sure if it's embarrassment, exactly, or shame that has him toying with his glass instead of looking at her.

“Felt like I was trying to catch up to myself all day,” he admits.

“I know the feeling,” she sympathizes.

He's quiet for a moment before he responds.

“My ex-wife was supposed to come out with our son in the next couple weeks here, but she called and they pushed it back until the summer.”

His frown is back and his gaze is faraway, but she doesn't speak.

“Been here for almost a year now and they still seem to be getting on just fine without me.” He sounds like he wishes he could say it with detachment, but it comes out rather devastated.

“They're in the States?” she asks gently, pulling him back to here and now as he shakes himself a bit.

“Yes.”

“Why don't you go see them?” she tries, though she's very aware she's got the bare minimum of facts.

“‘Cause I'm still stinging from her snapping that she just needs some goddamn space,” he says, giving her a twisted, wry little grin.

She frowns but he shrugs, lifting his drink to his lips.

“S’pose it's about time to just get over it,” he mumbles.

“That's not easy to get over,” she says kindly. “Especially from someone you love.”

“No, it's not,” he agrees. “Ain't much love to lose these days, though. You're probably right, should just take matters into my own hands, hop over the pond.”

“Don't go too long,” she says, only half teasing. “I shouldn't be left to feed myself for a prolonged period of time.”

He smiles again and the sight has warm satisfaction melting in her.

“Oh, if I go anywhere I'll set you up, don't you worry,” he assures her.

“Thank goodness.”

It's odd how difficult she finds it when she rises and steps away. A part of her wants her to stay put, keep the space between them minimal, but she writes it off as a result of just how long it's been since she had sex.

“Now, I don't see any biscuits,” she says. “But I suppose I'll give you a pass this week.”

He rises with a soft chuckle, following her with his own dish to the sink.

“No, no, I'll do it,” he says as he starts to clean up from dinner. “Unless you need your kitchen back.”

She starts gathering dishes – he must clean as he goes, because it's not nearly the mess she'd imagine would come from cooking four whole dinners.

“Oh, for what? You think I have a chef on the side coming over tonight?”

He turns, expression scandalized, a hand landing on his chest as if he's been shot.

“Tell me you'd never.”

She chuckles, joining him at the sink, hands full.

They clean up together and then she pours them both another drink before she claims a stool, content to watch as he puts together a batch of biscuits. She watches him move comfortably around the kitchen, chatting easily with her, and it's making an impression, one she's blatantly ignoring.

She half expects him to try to leave her once they're in the oven and has her excuses for him to stay at the ready, but he sits again, waiting the half hour they need to bake at the island with her. He asks her about her job, how she came to own the club, and conversation wanders to and fro.

“I'm intrigued to see what you've cooked up for me this week, chef,” she remarks at one point.

“You know I ain't really a professional chef, right?” he chuckles. “I dropped out of culinary school actually.”

“Really? Why?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I wasn't having fun. I love cooking, I love making food and feeding people, but I didn't wanna do it the way they train you to, you know, cooking in a restaurant or joining the race to be the next big something. I like doing it this way. Getting to know people and cooking what they like. Feels like I'm paying the bills by cooking for friends and that's…” He clicks his tongue with a nod. “That's just perfect for me.”

“Well,” she says, smiling at how clearly he loves what he does. “You're still a chef. Definitely to me at least.”

He rises when the oven chimes, giving her a smile.

“That's enough for me.”

The biscuits have filled the kitchen with the warm scent of vanilla – the same scent that's usually still barely lingering when she gets home.

He stays long enough to let them cool slightly and cut them and she watches as he arranges them on the trivet by the kettle, just as he always does. He packs his things up then and she sees him out, exchanging smiles and goodbyes.

She's still smiling when she finally goes upstairs to change for the evening and it takes her a while to identify the feeling.

She feels like she just got home from a really, really good date.

It wasn't a date, so she doesn't know why she's disappointed when she doesn't hear from him again over the week. She doesn't contact him either, trying to recategorize the evening in her mind.

She's very pleasantly surprised, in that case, when she comes home the following Tuesday and he's still there. She knows by the smell of something sweet and nutty filling the air before she even gets to the kitchen.

It's spotless this time. He's not all anxious energy this time either – he smiles when she peeks in, looking rather uncertain about his welcome, but it still makes something deep in her chest ache.

It's rather nice. To come home to a smile from someone.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hello.” She lets her smile ease his uncertainty and her tone ask her questions for her.

“I, uh, wanted to say thank you,” he explains. “For last week, when I was…when I wasn't feeling so great, for being so kind, letting me hang out for a while.”

She starts to wave it off again, but he continues.

“I made a little something special for ya. Something I can't really leave for you to reheat later,” he says, gesturing to the ovens. “If you want a little snack?”

She nods eagerly, kicking her heels off toward the stairs before she joins him.

He pulls a dish from the oven and sets it on the counter. He fiddles with something there, but she doesn't see what until her turns, sliding a round plate to the center of the island between them.

Whatever it is is perfectly golden brown, looks delicious and smells heavenly.

“Honey baked brie,” he informs her. “With some walnuts and some fig jam, tiny bit of rosemary.”

“Oh my god,” she almost moans. “And it's what, wrapped in pastry?”

“Yes, ma'am,” he smiles. “Thought it might be something you like.”

“I can tell you already you're correct,” she says, rounding the island to find them some forks. “I can't wait to taste it.”

“Let me know how you like it.” She frowns, but he's got a small smile when she looks up. “I'll let you…”

“You think I'm going to eat that entire thing myself?” she asks, lifting her brows as she pulls two forks from the drawer.

“Well, I know how much you like cheese,” he chuckles.

“I'll share,” she says, handing him a fork. “With you.”

She doesn't even have the patience to sit down – she slices her fork through the pastry and creamy brie begins to ooze out. She scoops it up with some pastry, catching a nut and a bit of fig and shoves it in her mouth.

“Careful, it's hot–”

“Fuck me,” she mutters without thought.

It's delicious. Creamy and sweet and savory, the pastry flaky and buttery. It's rich and indulgent but not sickeningly so and she’s in love.

She's bringing another bite to her mouth when she realizes he's just smiling at her, pleased as punch.

“Please eat some,” she begs around her bite. “Because I can not eat all of this and I will if you leave me alone with it.”

“Alright, alright,” he chuckles, cutting off a bite for himself.

He hums, pleased with his handiwork. “Mm. Not to toot my own horn, but that's good.”

“Mm!” she hums, getting an idea. She steps away to the wine cooler, squatting down to look for one of her less frequent whites. She comes back with a pair of glasses and an off-dry Riesling.

“This was a bit too bright and citrus-y for me, but it might be gorgeous with this.”

“Okay. You’re the sommelier here, not me,” he says as she pours, then slides a glass to him.

“Oh, please, your pairings are always spot on.”

It does go nicely, complimenting every bite.

“God, this is lovely,” she tells him.

“I'm glad you like it,” he mumbles around his own bite.

“Did you make the pastry?”

He shakes his head. “No. Normally I would, but I didn't decide on this until I was shopping today and that takes some time.”

“How long did this take?”

She listens with interest as he explains how he made it, amazed at how straightforward it sounds.

“Christ, it sounds like I could make it.”

“Uh oh,” he says, eyes widening. “Am I talking myself out of a job?”

“Oh, hardly. Even if I figured out how to make everything you cook for me, I'd still keep you around,” she admits. “You’re good company.”

“Well, that's nice to know,” he smiles, eyes soft.

“Also, knowing how to definitely doesn't mean I actually have any desire to cook any of it myself,” she chuckles. “So you still have plenty of use.”

She winks with her teasing as his warm laugh has him tucking his chin, his crows feet deepening.

“I see how it is.”

She can't help but take him in, delighted by how carefree he is today. God help her, she really does like him – she wants to know him better. He's so genuine, so unselfish and generous, and she wants to keep him smiling.

“Thank you,” she says when she finally really can't eat any more, maybe a quarter of the round of brie left on the plate. “That was very kind of you.”

“No, thank you,” he echoes. “It was nice last week, to sit and eat with someone and I needed it.”

She nods get agreement, leaning her hip against the counter.

“I won't, uh, make a habit of just hanging out here, though,” he says, presumably to reassure her.

Her brows tip, eyes on his as she lets out a disappointed, “No?”

His lips part, but he doesn't manage to form a response. It hardly matters – they're communicating plenty in their gazes, trading glances at each other's lips. The moment stretches, and stretches, her breath changing to suit the surplus beats of her heart at the intensity in his warm eyes.

He leans closer, tipping his head, and something jolts through the center of her when he kisses her. She returns the gentle pressure, daring to part her lips to close them against his. Her fingers curl into her hand at her hip with restraint, fighting the urge to sink into his hair or pull him closer.

It's too delicate, this lovely feeling, and draws a tenderness up through her she hasn't been able to find for months.

He eases back slowly and she catches the breath he stole. Her eyes open, finding his still closed and she watches his parted lips begin to tighten as he fights a smile. The sight inspires one of her own, pulling at her cheeks as he opens his eyes, the smile winning and straightening his mustache out.

“I, um…”

She rolls her lips into her mouth, not even trying for words. She has none.

He can't find any either.

She drives forward again, prepared this time with a little extra breath in her lungs, a little more confidence. He kisses her back with a little more something too and she can't restrain her hands anymore from rising to hold his face. She tries to imbue the motion of her lips with plenty of invitation, but it's not until she pulls back and he follows, wavering toward her, that he steadies himself with a hand on her hip. Her attention goes straight to the heat of it through her dress as it slides to a more respectable height on her waist.

“You are very welcome to linger here as much as you like actually,” she exhales.

“Oh, I feel welcome,” he says, voice low.

She grins, pulling him in again. “Do you?”

“I sure do.”

He barely gets the words out before they're kissing again. She opens to him, tastes the brie and honey and the dry sweetness of the wine and finds it appropriate that he should be so indulgent. His hands finally make their way around her, narrowing the space between them even more. She's not sure when her arms found their way around his neck but they tighten there in response.

He doesn't let her go far when they part again, dropping a kiss on the corner of her mouth, her cheek. Her eyes close with the sensation, the scratch of his mustache and his warm lips.

“I really like cooking for you,” he murmurs.

The way he says it makes it sound like a deep confession and she feels silly for how fluttery it makes her to hear. She smiles against his lips and discovers this isn't new information to her. It's in every bite.

“I know you do,” she says low in his ear. “I can taste it.”

“Can you?” He sounds surprised and pleased.

“Yes.” She guides him back to her lips. “I can.”

#i don't know how you accidentally write five thousand words of fanfiction but it happened to me...#a gift for you anon. just cause 💌#also sorry the formatting sucks here but i don't feel like titling and tagging and summarizing and posting on ao3 rn #anon #tl drabbles

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charmercharm3r · 10 months

Note

Hear me out… hard thoughts on 0T8 being curious about their partners breast milk

I KNOW ITS TABOO!! But I literally can’t get it out of my head… help lmao 🤣

Masterlist

I HEAR U ANON I HEAR U. for imagine��s sake, picture reader is post-preggos in all these scenarios.

now, i think it’s obvious i live for sub chan and felix, but i don’t initially see him being into breast milk. it’d be a weird moment where he’s watching u bottle pumping he’s like, “…can i try..?” and it’s all downhill from there, any moment he can he’s taking the opportunity to suck on your swollen tits even if it’s just to have the weight of them in your mouth. occasionally squeezes in passing hard enough to purposefully make you leak and giggle to himself.

with minho, changbin, hyunjin, and jisung, it’s more the same proud feeling he gets when you swallow his seed after a good blowjob. it’s the physical aspect of being able to consume you the way you do to him, also the mindset that, “i helped do that, i did that to you. we made that human being together.” a pride thing, an ego boost in a weird, twisted sense. but hey, who doesn’t love some tits as nice as yours?

seungmin will either hate it or fucking love it. but he’s a menace, even with a child and is determined to be such a role model. he’s feeding your kid when he thinks, “wow that kids going to town. is it really that good?” and takes a little sip. he’s surprised how much he enjoys it, even if it’s pre-pumped. he’s of course shy to ask you about it in bed, but is pleasantly happy when you agree to let him suck your tit to try it right from the source. from then on, he’s doing things to purposefully make you lactate and soak through your shirt, emotionally riling you up in your fragile state and encouraging you to, “just walk around shirtless! we’re all benefiting from it.”

jeongin is also hit or miss, he already hates being babied but suddenly becomes envious of his kid in a way when he sees the baby just having a meal. also thinks that there’s no way breast milk can taste good enough for the kid to be hogging you like that. it’s a bit of jealousy, but also understanding cus he loves your boobs just as much. tries it on accident as well and suddenly becomes obsessed. after the baby is asleep and you’re finally comfortable having sex again he shyly asks if he could try it, is a bit thrown off by the warmth of you but praises you after realizing how uncomfortable it must be for you, “awe, you’re so sweet for letting me have a treat.” feels a little bad he’s stealing some good meals from his kid, but hey, that’s what power formula is for.

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annaizscribbling · 5 months

Text

one of those Stardew drabbles where the farmer is not quite human but from different villager perspectives. Here's Sebby's

(Pt 1) (pt 2) (pt 3) (pt 4) (pt 5)

Sebastian sipped his piping hot coffee. He took it with a bit of cream these days. He was comfortably settled against his favorite windowsill, watching his wife work in the field. The sun politely warmed his pale skin. He’d gained a little color since moving to the farm, but not enough to really lose his sickly pallor. He made sure of that, wearing plenty of sunscreen.

He’s content. It’s nice to feel that way. Living in a stuffy basement, working and isolating himself felt foggy and miserable. But now, he’s happy. Calmer. He managed to get out of that old environment, and here with his wife, life finally seemed to mean something. He doesn’t long to escape and become something, instead, what he already is has become something worthwhile.

Living on a quiet farm, making breakfast for his wife, picking fruit and feeding chickens. It brings out a softness in him, a side that never fully been realized. Tenderness. Serenity. Peace.

Sebastion watches his wife chew some raw seaweed, pulled directly from her little black backpack. She’s never without that bag, as soon as she gets out of bed, it’s over her shoulder until she sleeps again. His eyes trail her bare arms as she clears some rocks. He’d given up on understanding how and why she consumes some strange foods, as long as he can wrangle her into a few balanced meals with him, he doesn’t care too much.

Her muscles are toned, far more defined than his will probably ever be. She hefts her pickaxe high above her head before brining it down onto the stone, shattering it. She’s quick to scoop up the rocks she wants as she kicks the rest to the side. His wife could do it for hours without pause, hours upon hours. Time always seemed to part for her.

She unknowingly flexes her bicep as she prepares to strike again. So strong, he can’t help but lean a little further into the window to catch a good glimpse. The little black tank top she usually wears leaves her deeply tanned olive skin on display. There’s hardly a sheen of sweat on her, which Sebastion always found strange. He takes one step outside on a summer day and he’s instantly disgusting. Somehow every hair on her face is immaculate and the thick eyeliner she applies every morning is always inexplicitly intact.

Perhaps he once thought of her as a strange woman, but now she’s his strange woman. The love of his life, the sexy farmer who he accidently stumbled into a romance with. The quiet, perhaps at times eerie, foreign city girl who changed the whole town. Who changed him …

He enjoyed watching her. It didn’t really matter what she was doing, her existence just drew him in. Sometimes he felt like a housecat unwilling to leave a sunbeam. Her radiance warmed him, calmed him, it made him feel like he was exactly where fate wanted him to be. She was the sun, or at least she was his. It didn’t matter what he was, so long as he could bask in her presence.

Speak of the devil, Sebastian doesn’t realize she’s come back inside until the front door opens. He discovers that he’s smiling before he’s even realized he’s turned his head to look at her.

Short curls that don’t seem to care for gravity and its rules. Freckled olive skin. Big brown eyes that seem to melt anybody who stares into them long enough. Muscles that he longs to caress and be wrapped up in each morning. Big heavy boots who have seen more monster blood and dirt than most do in their lifetimes. A shy smile.

The Farmer. His wife.

“Hey, Babe,” Sebatian says, “want some coffee? I woke up early from a nightmare and couldn’t fall back asleep.”

She smiles, and it’s so genuine that even now that they’ve been married a year, his heart just swells with that fluttery kinda love. His wife wasn’t a huge talker, it’s not that she didn’t talk at all, but she often spoke with her face. At this moment, her soft eyes are telling him everything he needs to know.

Soon, they’re cuddled together on the big sofa his mother had built. A cup of coffee for each of them rests on the coffee table. She’s resting her head on his lap, looking up at him with a dreaminess he’s sure is present on his own face.

“I have a gift for you,” she whispers, reaching into her bag, which she slipped off her shoulder and onto the rug. “Eyes closed, please.”

Sebastian does as he’s told. He feels her warm hands pry open his cold one, and something chilly is pushed into his palm. One side of his mouth turns up in a knowing smile. He knows what the gift is by the shape, and it charms him just as much as it did the first time she brought him one.

“A frozen tear,” Sebastian says fondly, holding up the glassy, perpetually cold little tear. He loves collecting them, keeping them, studying them. The first one she ever gave him is his favorite. He even had Clint turn it into a necklace. It’s under his hoodie on a chain even now, slightly cold, pressing against his chest, gently reminding him how much somebody loves him.

“It’s perfect,” Sebastian says, rubbing his thumb over the round base of the tear.

She tries to give him another one, but Sebastion laughs and tells her to stop spoiling him. He’ll take it later, when he doesn’t see it coming. One gift a day is already so much, especially combined with getting to hold her every night. A man’s heart can only handle so much.

Sometimes he wonders how she could possibly be of this world. She’s an angel. She’s a celestial being who commands the earth below her feet by purely existing. He’s sure of it some days. The plants grow like they’re reaching for her somehow. The waters always bring a fresh fish for her hook within seconds. The two can go looking for seashells together, but they’ll wash up to shore just for her, surely they must be. She heals weary souls by simply talking to her. Her farm animals love her, managing to produce perfect eggs and milk through their adoration for her.

Sebastion didn’t really know what she was, but he loved her.

#sdv sebastian #sebastian #stardew farmer #stardew sebastian #the farmer is a cryptid #stardew valley

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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 2 months

Text

PAELLA

Hello I had a random idea for a potential snippet of my Alastor x OC/reader set in the future when the two of them are in hell and MC makes him suffer. *feeds you scraps at my front door*

Asexual Alastor x Asexual/ADHD reader

Summary: It's a short one but Alastor tries to be sweet about something and MC decides not today and infodumps on him about tranquilisers. Spoiler: she gets Lucifer involved.

Word count: 389

Alastor is a sex repulsed ace (like me) in my fics and will remain so forever. <3

You can find the main fic HERE

“Well you know what they say!” Alastor trilled, eyes closed as he tapped you on the nose. “Every kiss begins with—“

“Ketamine.”

He froze, static going silent and his smile strained as his eyes flew wide open. His eyebrows gave away his confusion as he glanced at you, finger still hovering in front of your face. You continued.

“A hydrochloride tranquiliser, used in veterinary practice, mostly as an anaesthetic or something for horses.” You explained, breaking eye contact with him to reach your fork over and nick a piece of chorizo from his plate whilst he was still frozen.

It took a few moments, but the usual static eventually returned, Alastor blinking his red eyes a few times to get them to focus again. It wasn’t until you reached your fork over a second time to scoop a whole mouthful of paella that he finally let out a sigh.

“If that’s what you want.” He huffed, his smile loosening into a tired closed-lip one. “I believe we could find some.”

“Sure,” you said absentmindedly as you typed away at your phone. “Lemme know if it works.”

He tilted his head, until he suddenly realised what you meant, fluffy ears going pin straight as his eyes widened again. Narrowing them, he leant on his elbow over the table as he brought his face to yours, words coming out in a hiss.

“If you’re suggesting—“

“Lucifer?” You confirmed, eyes darting up from your phone. “Yea I’ve already texted him - he said he’s up for it. Apparently he’s too impatient to wait for truth or dare night to make out with you.”

All you got was loud static in response, and you watched him from the corner of your eye as his limbs twisted and eyes blackened in an attempt to stop you. All you did was hold a finger up in response.

“Unless you want me to ask Vox, I suggest you finish the paella I made for you.”

You heard the static stop, and within a second he was back to normal, munching away at your meal, though now with a prominent twitch in his smile, as he glared death beams across the table. Your phone vibrated, and you read the text Lucifer sent.

“Oh, and he says wear something nice.”

The fork in his hand snapped.

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

Alastor: *sobs in asexual* "Why does MC do this?"

MC (also a sex repulsed ace): NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT

If you know the ketamine meme, make out with me rn.

Please let me know if you want to be added to the Taglist!

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*grabs you all by the throat* *feeds you content*

Taglist: @theredviolets @mybrainsautocorrect @all-user-error @belos-simp69 @boogiemansbitch @elio-ee @snowlotr @mistresslemonsuger @sugasweettea @jaygrl22 @mysterypotatoink @yunimimii @threefingeredpencil @mydeardelphi @glowinthedarkbones1150 @fluffismystaplefood

#alastor #alastor x reader #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor fanfic #alastor x you #alastor x oc

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macsimagines · 7 months

Note

hii! Can I please request a headcannon of Izana, Taiju, and Kazutora where they try to normalize the kidnapped life their darling lives with them, but darling just wants to go home? if you don’t want to write this it’s okay!

I'm shocked to say this is the first imagine I've ever had with this scenario. I never thought about it till now but I figure this would've been a common trope?

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, MINORS DNI, PHYSICAL ABUSE, PSCHOLOGICAL TORTURE, MENTION OF KIDNAPPING, ISOLATION

Yandere!Izana Kurokawa

Ok so depending on what type of darling you are and how he fell for you is really going to vary this type of situation.

If you two were in a relationship beforehand and he took you, he's going to treat your situation like it's the most natural thing in the world. Almost like he's delusional, but of course he isn't. Knows damn well you're an unwilling captive.

But he's good at mind games darling. Gaslight and gatekeeping KING, you're going to question whether or not this isn't something you always wanted.

If you never had a relationship though? If you had out right rejected him and honestly wanted nothing to do with Izana? Its going to be torture.

Isolation in a dark cold room with the bare minimum necessities, you're only form of contact is when Izana gives it to you. And that's when he treats you like you're an absolute queen.

When you scream and misbehave you're alone for days again, when you're quiet and docile you're rewarded with his warmth and affection.

He's smart and he's going to condition you to want him.

"I'm back, princess. What's it been, a week? You ready to eat some food again? Come here, I'll feed you."

Yandere!Taiju Shiba

Boy lets hope you've got a body made of steel, he'll beat the shit out of his 'wife' until they learn to behave.

He loves you. In his own sick and demented way, he truly loves you with all his heart. But if his wife keeps acting out, Taiju will get physical to put you in your place.

Tries to start small. Slaps across the cheek, as light as he can make it when your complaints get too loud and maybe spankings over his knee wen you're too bratty (and he's feeling kinky).

But on days where work was too much and he doesn't have the patience to come home and you're being a little shit he'll straight up punch you. Beat you down until he knows you're too weak to do anything other than lie on the ground.

Eventually, you'll learn to behave and when you do, he's going to treat you as gentle as his little housewife deserves. I think Taiju wants what he never had as a kid.

That picture perfect, "Honey, I'm home!" shit, with you waiting in the kitchen making him dinner. He might even bring you flowers, just because that's what the picture perfect home looks like to him.

You'll have such nice dresses, and only the best and classiest jewelry.

So long as his house is in perfect order, his meals are made how he wants them and you're on your best behavior. Don't ruin the illusion now.

Yandere!Kazutora Hanemiya

This boy is so deluded into thinking you two are living a perfectly normal life together. It doesn't matter how hard you protest or cry he really does think you love him and are where you are supposed to be.

Freak completely remodeled his own living space to match your own, so that; "It's just like home for you! Makes it all easier right baby?"

When that doesn't make you happy, and the fact that all of the stolen items from your old home are there don't seem to pacify you, its on to the second part of his plan.

Memory making. He's got this Creep-tastic wall of all the things you're going to do together. Pictures of both of your faces glues over wedding magazine photos and happy couples he found on Instagram.

"And this is when we'll go on our third year anniversary to the place where you bumped into me for 4th time back in June twenty-second two-thousand and- why are you backing away?"

Things are already normal to him. The universe is finally aligned and you're with your soulmate. All that's left is to get married and get started on making your big family with 5+ kids.

#yandere tokyo revengers #yandere izana kurokawa #yandere izana #yandere taiju shiba #yandere kazutora hanemiya

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strrynigghts · 3 months

Text

dinner is served

— könig x main cod members x fem!reader

— cw/tw: mentions of food (eating + making + serving), feeling lonely despite being in a room of people, könig and reader are friends, not proofread, lmk if I’ve missed any!

— summary: könig joins you for dinner

— an: visited my family as I finally moved closer to them, and decided to make them dinner! was excited until I was the only one at the dinner table :) I also want to apologise for going mia! I moved to a different state and I still need to get all my stuff settled! also note that I’ve never played a damn cod game in my entire life and only know who’s who by reading fics written by others or from doing research for 10 seconds, so please excuse any cod mistakes!

after a long day of training with the 141, you’ve decided that you’d make a nice meal for everyone. you enjoyed cooking for them, and it’s been a while since you’ve last been able to make them, and yourself, a decent meal.

you knew it wasn’t going to be easy—the kitchen was loaded with mres—but luckily, the chefs from last night left a couple things behind.

you found mac ‘n cheese, green beans, chicken strips, and lettuce. it was more than plenty to work with, but you were excited to cook regardless.

opening the cans of carrots and green beans, you dumped them into their respective pots, adding salt and pepper as well as butter, to them both. you placed the chicken on a tray and popped them in the oven, and chopped up the lettuce and placed it into the fridge.

after about fifteen minutes, everything was done! you were happy and smiling and very excited to feed your teammates! you knew they loved your cooking, and they were so grateful when you did cook.

you grabbed out plates and cups, putting a little bit of everything onto their plates. you knew that most of them didn’t mind their food touching, but alejandro was sorta picky and didn’t like it when his veggie juice touched other foods. adding tea or water into certain cups, you’ve backed away to admire your work. it was beautifully done and you felt so proud!

“boys! dinner!” you yelled, and much like a stampede, they all came running—except for könig? “made y’all chicken, mac ‘n cheese, salad, and some green beans with carrots to go along with it. it’s important to eat your veggies.”

“thank you lass,” ghost and a few others said. you knew that even though some didn’t say their thanks, that they were still thankful.

“thank you love,” price chimed in, after you’ve passed all plates out—except for königs and yours. they all walked over to the room next to the kitchen and flicked the tv on, three of them on the couch and two of them in the loveseats.

grabbing a plate yourself, you proceeded to add whatever you wanted onto your plate. you always served yourself last when it came to making them food. you didn’t mind, you knew very well that they required more calories due to how much more extensive their training was.

you looked at königs plate, popping it into the microwave for a minute to keep it warm at least. you knew it wasn’t far behind the others, always showing up after the others all have settled into their seats. you grabbed yours and looked at the boys: there weren’t any seats left, and you didn’t like sitting on the floor. you sighed quietly and sat at the table near the kitchen.

there was a lump in your throat, however. you were so excited to finally cook for your team, for your family, but then they go into a different room and turn the tv on. you wanted to talk them, wanted them to talk to you, share stories, all that jazz. the laughter they shared just then didn’t help the lump go down either. your elbows were hanging off the table and your fork poked at your plate. you weren’t even hungry anymore.

you were too far into your mind that you didn’t notice könig grab his plate from the microwave and sit down at the table until he reached out for your hand. you looked up at him and although you couldn’t see it, you knew his eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes staring at you.

“are you okay, y/n?” he sounded so worried, removing his hand away as he sat straighter, raising his mask just to his nose before he went to take a bite.

“not really that hungry anymore.” you cleared your throat, offering him a weak smile as you stared back at him.

“pft, such nonsense maus! this is really good.”

you looked away, biting your lip as you sat in silence for a brief moment. you looked back at könig, only to see that he has his spoon up in your face, offering you a bite despite having your own plate right there. “c’mon, take a bite!” he shoved it closer to your face and you laughed softly, allowing the spoon to push past your lips.

könig pulled the spoon away and chuckled. “see? it’s good isn’t it, ja?”

you felt much better now that your best friend was eating at the table with you, making you laugh <3

image credit found here

#könig fic #könig x you #könig x reader #konig cod #könig cod #könig call of duty #konig x y/n #könig fanfiction #könig #konig x reader #könig fluff #könig x y/n #könig mw2 #könig x fem reader #könig is so sweet :( he can hit me with a bus and still do it sweetly #strry writes #if anyone understands I’m 🩰 anon #wrote this while shaving my cooter so typos are in here somewhere 🥰✨ much love lovies

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nightprompts · 8 months

Text

&. 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 (𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧) 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

( dialogue prompts taken from episodes 5 & 6 ( "eat at baratie!" & "the chef and the chore boy" ) of the netflix live action one piece series. feel free to edit and change as you seem fit. )

❛ how about we sail away as fast as we can? ❜

❛ about the battle, you wanna talk about it? ❜

❛ there's something on the breeze. smells like butter. soy sauce. and meat. ❜

❛ think he has brain damage? ❜

❛ i smell food, which means that there's someone somewhere cooking. ❜

❛ what's a... baratie? ❜

❛ let's eat! ❜

❛ you'll have to excuse them. they're idiots. ❜

❛ wanna take this outside? ❜

❛ are you asking me to dance? 'cause i kind of had my eye on that blonde at table eight. ❜

❛ i call it a true bluefin sauté. it's elephant tuna, seared asparagus, in a sweet soy reduction. ❜

❛ if i gotta sling one more prime rib medium-well, i am going to drop dead of boredom, you old shitbag! ❜

❛ this ain't gonna be a fight. i'm just going to kill him. ❜

❛ hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food. ❜

❛ one of our signature cocktails to help you choke down your meal? ❜

❛ apologies, madam, i didn't see you there. ❜

❛ something wrong with your eye? ❜

❛ just blinded by your beauty. ❜

❛ nami's got a boyfriend. ❜

❛ did i catch you in the middle of something? ❜

❛ just killing some time. ❜

❛ who's the quarry? ❜

❛ doesn't sound like much of a challenge. ❜

❛ why are you after me? ❜

❛ you woke me from my nap. ❜

❛ i can't eat another bite. but it's so good. ❜

❛ who the hell is monkey d. luffy? ❜

❛ i don't even think there's liquor in this. it tastes just like candy. ❜

❛ who's ready for another drink? my treat. ❜

❛ i don't really do regret. no point in looking back. ❜

❛ sometimes, when i try to look ahead, all i see is back. ❜

❛ you know, you're a really good cook. ❜

❛ if a man is hungry, i feed him. ❜

❛ what are you carrying around that's so heavy? ❜

❛ i bet i know more about you than you do about me. ❜

❛ i guess something about you, you drink. you guess something about me, i drink.❜

❛ i have business with your captain. if you know what's good for you, you'll hand him over. ❜

❛ i've been following your career since i was a child. it's an honor to finally meet you, sir. which is why it pains me to inform you that tomorrow... you're going to die. ❜

❛ accept my challenge. you'll see how serious i am. ❜

❛ you want me to say you're the best? you're the best. okay? ❜

❛ you're the best i've ever seen, but you are not better than him. ❜

❛ why do you give a shit? ❜

❛ because you're my friend, you idiot. ❜

❛ you said it yourself. you don't have any friends. ❜

❛ what is that? i'm here for a sword fight. ❜

❛ i don't hunt rabbits with a cannon. ❜

❛ you're brave. i'll give you that. ❜

❛ wounds on the back are a swordsman's greatest shame. ❜

❛ this world could use a few more wild cards. ❜

❛ it's too soon for you to die. grow strong and come find me. i'll be waiting. ❜

❛ you could never fail me. ❜

❛ look, i'm not gonna lie to you. he's lost a lot of blood. it might be too late for him. but it might not be. ❜

❛ he's got one foot in each world right now, caught between life and death. you have to find a way to keep him tethered to our world. ❜

❛ nice of you to announce yourself. ❜

❛ i don't take orders. not even from the likes of you. ❜

❛ what's the matter? don't like fish? ❜

❛ if you don't want the fish, i got two-inch t-bones in the kitchen. or maybe you're in the mood for saffron risotto? ❜

❛ i can make anything. just tell me what you want. ❜

❛ being a captain, it's the toughest job in the world, okay? ❜

❛ how'd you two meet? were you on his crew or something? ❜

❛ oregano's for savages! ❜

❛ you've got a sharp tongue on you, boy. how about i cut it out and fry it up with some pig fat? ❜

❛ do what you want, but i'm not gonna die here. ❜

❛ they're all dead, except for us. ❜

❛ you ate it? you ate your own leg? ❜

❛ you don't even know me. why would you do that for a stranger? ❜

❛ so i'm gonna need you to live on. and i'm gonna need you to fulfill that dream... for both of us. ❜

❛ have any idea what that's like? having someone lose a limb to save your life? ❜

❛ sometimes, when you are in charge, you have to make the tough decisions. ❜

❛ i'd do anything to save him. anything. except stand in the way of his dream. ❜

❛ isn't there something that you want? something more than anything else in this world? ❜

❛ not everyone gets to follow their dreams. ❜

❛ did you not hear what i just said? they are hunting you. we need to run. ❜

❛ i can't let innocent people get hurt because of me. ❜

❛ i hear you're looking for me. ❜

❛ so this is the pirate i've heard so much about? ❜

❛ do you know who i am, boy? ❜

❛ how'd you even know how to find me? ❜

❛ if you bow down to me, i might even let you serve in my kingdom. ❜

❛ i don't bow down to any man. ❜

❛ i told you in the bar i didn't have any friends, but the truth is, i couldn't let myself have them... because i always end up hurting the people closest to me. ❜

❛ why waste your time killing a devil fruit eater? let the sea do it for you. ❜

❛ what is your problem? ❜

❛ me? i'm fine. you're the one with the problem. ❜

❛ you're not gonna be anything, not if you stay here. ❜

❛ it's not like i can just leave. ❜

❛ don't you get it? it's one thing to have a dream. it's another to go after it. ❜

❛ you want my permission? you got it. ❜

❛ i didn't know what to say before, but i know what to say now, and it's so simple. i need you. ❜

❛ you gonna keep talking, or let me get some sleep? ❜

❛ i vow to stand by your side from now until the end. ❜

❛ you're my captain, and i'm your first mate. ❜

❛ heard you guys need a cook. ❜

❛ why are we bringing the waiter? ❜

❛ you keep your feet dry. ❜

❛ you know, all these years, living under your shitty roof, cooking at your shitty restaurant... i owe you my life! ❜

❛ thank you for putting up with my shit all these years, old man. ❜

❛ i'll never forget you! ❜

#one piece #opla #sentence starters #roleplay memes #roleplay starters #rp memes #inbox memes #rp starters #dialogue prompts #ask memes #tv

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