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essentiallyleaf · 7 months

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day 03. wall sex. with. winter.

1113 words.

tags.

kinktober ‘23, idol x male reader, dom(?) reader, sub girlfriend winter, making out, daddy kink, wall sex, lift and carry, standing doggy, semi-public sex, a smidge of size kink, barely edited, actually about as long as i expected this time.

notes.

honestly, not that much to say. oh right, i don’t actually know if a wall sex kink/fetish actually exists, which is perhaps not a minor concern for a kinktober piece. so if it really does, let me know, and if it doesn't, help me make it a thing and specifically winto’s thing. solidly, leaf.

You step between her legs, hanging slightly parted off the counter as she sits on it. She’s still staring at the window to her left, so you caress her cheek and redirect her chin towards you, trying to fish something out of the sea blue colored contacts Winter wears on her eyes. You love that color on her. You kiss her lips softly, they’re slightly wet. Your mouths detach as you bring a second hand between her jaw and her neck.

The only thing that comes off your hook is lust.

So you kiss your girlfriend again, this time longer and deeper; you feel her tongue brush your lips, so you retaliate with yours. It starts as a little game, taking turns exploring each other’s mouths, but the longer it goes, the longer you feel her trying to take more space past your entrance, so you let her in.

That’s how it is with her: she only needs to ask. “Can we go to the animal shelter tomorrow?”; “Can I read manga with you while we’re on the train?”; “Can you get me that cute black one piece over there?” (That’s when you bought her the dress she’s wearing right now. And it’s not cute. On her, combined with that messy bun and those fishnets, it looks fucking filthy). Then, the magic word. They always taught you it was “Please”, but really, it’s what comes after: “Daddy?”

That’s why when she grabs the collar of your leather jacket to pull you towards her, when she wraps her arms and legs around you like she needs you, like she’s a koala that needs to make sure it won’t fall from its tree while sleeping, you give in. Because there’s no one else that can grant Winter’s wishes like you do, just like there’s no one else that needs you as much as Winter does.

Which takes on an extremely carnal meaning as you lift her from the counter and turn around, your hands on her ass and your forearms supporting her thighs. She’s so tiny and light, you don’t need all that support, but you want to feel her every inch of her body on yours.

You wander through a couple rooms, looking for a bedroom in the enormous maze-like mansion. Given the handicap of having Winter kiss you the whole way through and of barely being able to keep your eyes open because of that, it’s a miracle that you don’t slam into a doorframe or trip on a carpet in the process. Then, her impatience takes over.

“Let’s do it here”

You look around the room, puzzled. It looks like some kind of library, though at least one third of the shelves of the old-fashioned white carved bookcases is almost empty. “Where?”

Your girlfriend stretches her arm towards the wall behind her, palming it as if trying to get a grasp of its texture.

“Isn’t this good enough,” she knows she can’t get it so easily, but she also knows the most direct shortcut, “Daddy?”

She doesn’t need an answer. She needs you to slam her into the wall, pull her little slutty black one piece up to her waist and her thin, almost see through black panties to the side, rip those fishnets apart and fuck her. As you find out, she also doesn’t need any foreplay, her slit and crotch already wet just from the prolonged make-out session, which finally comes to end as you switch from her mouth to the junction of her neck and shoulder.

You kiss, lick, and suck the same spot over and over for several minutes as you pump into her with feral instinct, her hand now gripping your hair tightly; she even pulls on it a little - it hurts, but that’s not your biggest priority right now. You need to mark Winter as yours, she’s your girlfriend, your (this exact moment, a little less) soft, sweet fluffball, she’s your tiny fuckdoll. And as such you shall use her.

Thrust upwards into her like that’s what she was built for, like there’s nothing stopping you. Meanwhile, the only thing stopping her is the wall behind her, which feels cold on her nape and asscheeks, stark contrast with her boiling hot clavicle and pussy.

“I’m gonna cum, daddy”

It’s not a request this time. It’s a factual statement. She orgasms silently, so overwhelmed by the bursts of pleasure flowing from her pussy to her brain to what feels like every inch of her body, that she simply goes limp. Fortunately, you and the wall are there to hold her.

It takes her a good couple minutes to even be able to feel the world around her, past the overpowering signals coming from her own body. That’s enough for you to ask her:

“Now, I’m gonna need you to hold onto that wall, just for a little bit longer, okay? Can you do that for Daddy?”

You wouldn’t be able to tell from her still dazed face, but as she lowers her legs and tries her very best to stand up, you know Winter understood perfectly, and this is her “Yes, daddy”.

She looks so precious as you hold her hips up and help her turn around, her palms on the wall, fingers tensing like she’s trying to find something to grip onto. So precious that you just wrap your arms all around her waist as you split her tight slit open for a second time and start shoving yourself in and out of her repeatedly.

You know you can’t last long, so you try to get your girlfriend to a second high, though you don’t know if she can even feel much given her state. You turn her head to the side to kiss her again and you reach towards one of her little boobs and start groping her, first through, then inside her daddy’s girl dress.

It’s when your other hand presses upon her clit that she completely loses it. She lets out a sequence of animalistic guttural moans you never heard from her, and watery liquid starts gushing on your cock and out of her pussy while her walls clench rhythmically. The combined pressure of the two triggers your own orgasm, as you deposit buckets of white honey into her womb until she can’t take any more and semen drips out of her pussy and onto the floor.

You hold Winter tightly, almost squeezing her against the wall as her knees threaten to give up completely; you kiss her temple repeatedly as she pants heavily.

“How are we gonna go back downstairs for the party?”

“You can carry me for a while! Please, daddy?”

footnotes.

wow i think i actually wrote different characters this time. this one was a little crammed, but i’m pretty satisfied with the end result. it feels like i’m slowly finding out which things i like writing more and which less and more generally about my identity as a writer. i’m still a sprout, but i think i’m learning a lot. sorry if i bored you and you’re now asleep and somehow still reading. do let me know how to do that! dreamily, leaf.

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #girl group smut #idol smut #female idol smut #male reader #male reader insert #male reader smut #idol x reader #idol x male reader #aespa #winter #kim minjeong #aespa smut #winter smut #kim minjeong smut #aespa winter smut

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moonstruckme · 1 month

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hello! I hope you're having a nice weekend and everything is well, I was trying to make this not too similar of a theme to past requests but I understand if it is! I was wondering if you could perhaps write something with remus (or another character of course) where the reader just cannot stop crying? Just comforting reader whos having one of those moments where it seems like nothing will stop you from being upset? Something roughly along those lines perhaps? Understand if not appealing, thank you :)

Hi! I did this with Spencer, I hope that's alright sweetness. Thank you for requesting <33

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 632 words

You’ve pulled Spencer’s throw tight around your shoulders. It’s squeezing, warm and soft and safe. Spencer has got your socked foot in his hand, massaging your arch in a way that hurts beautifully. You’re watching one of the rare movies you’re both interested in. Everything about your evening makes the perfect recipe for contentment, and for some reason you feel like you’re cracking open.

The first tear marks a slow, hot path down your cheek, and another follows before it’s dripped off your chin. There are a few more before a hitch in your breathing makes Spencer look over. His grip on your foot loosens.

“Sorry,” you laugh wetly before he has a chance to say anything.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I…” Another laugh chokes its way out of you, and you swipe underneath your eyes. They just keep coming. “I don’t know.”

“Is it the movie?”

“I don’t think so.” You shake your head. “Sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Spencer says quietly. It makes your stifled sounds seem louder. He works a hand up to clasp loosely around your ankle, a notch forming between his brows. “Are you upset about something?”

“No.” A tiny sob shudders out of you, and his grip tightens. “Nothing important.”

Spencer frowns. He’s got that face like when the crossword is actually difficult for him, a slight purse to his lips and a particular keenness around his eyes. “Do you know where you are in your menstrual cycle?”

You scoff, pulling your legs closer to you. “Seriously?”

“If your estrogen levels are dropping, you could be experiencing a decrease in serotonin.” It’s said in what you know to be his gentlest tone, but it doesn’t make you feel any better. “You know, crying can actually be really beneficial. It’s believed to be a uniquely human behavior, but tears can release stress hormones and crying for a long time can even trigger the release of endorphins.”

You pull the blanket tighter around you, holding your rib cage closed, and try to give him a smile. You know that rationalizing is how Spencer copes. You get that he’s trying to do the same for you. You just don’t work that way.

His brows pull up in the middle. “This isn’t really helping, is it?’

You’re not sure how to reply, but then he’s leaning forward, wrapping his arms around you. Another sob muffles into his shoulder, and Spencer squeezes your upper back solidly. Predictably, he’s even better than the blanket.

“This helps,” you squeak out.

“Good.” Spencer sounds tentative, but his hold tightens. He shuffles sideways on the couch to get you closer. “You should—you can just cry, if you need to. It’s good for you.”

You want to laugh again, you think you can quiet yourself and squash this down and make like it never happened, but then Spencer’s long fingers splay out between your shoulder blades and something inside you collapses.

You stop trying to breathe through it. You don’t fight the roaring in your ears, or the galloping in your chest. You cry until you can feel your heart beating in your sinuses.

Spencer’s shoulder is wet with tears and snot, and he’s rocking you a little, quiet but there. His hand steadies your shoulders when they shake, riding out the jolting sobs like driftwood on a stormy sea. When you grow quiet, he presses his cheek to the side of your head.

“Do you want some water?” he asks softly.

“No, thank you,” you croak back.

If he thinks you need it, Spencer doesn’t comment. It’ll be sitting on your nightstand when you go to bed.

“Do you want me to keep holding you?”

You turn your face into his neck. “Yes, please.”

“Okay,” he says. “Okay, I can do that.”

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dyslexic-mess · 1 year

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Tiniest DCXDP au nibblet before I go to bed:

The bat boys speak several languages. Which they fly into on a regular basis. Dick will go off into Romanian when he's being effectinate, Tim is angry in French, Jason rambles in Spanish and Damien mutters in latin.

(Cass also slips in and out of sign regularly and steph knows German but mostly just the swear words)

It happens enough there not phased by eachother doing it and are used to getting the general jist or rasing an eyebrow when whoever speaking is done and adding. "Okay. Now in English, please?"

Enter Danny who, since his death, has this bad habit of slipping into ghost speak when he's not concentrating for some resosen. Zoned out, angry, disinterested, excited, it's like when he died his first language became ghost speak and sometimes he forgets to translate before he talks.

After your usual 'getting adopted into the batfamily' hyjinx, Danny accidentally slips up in a passionate ramble about a picture NASA released or something. He catches himself and panics, only for whichever sibling he was talking at to roll there eyes and smile.

"English, Danny?"

He decides to do as they did and gloss over it but this is pre phantom reveal so he panics internally. Thing is, everyone else dose it to. Even Bruce. To the point that he stops thinking about it to.

It dosn't come up till Duke comes from a visit, Danny gose on an impassioned rant about the anti ecto laws in ghost speak and Duke turns 'round and asks what language he's actually speaking?? Because it dosnt sound like any languages he's heard????

Everyone turns because, hold on. That's a valid point! What language dose danny keep slipping in and out of??

This is a catalyst towards the reveal.

Also! Before that, everyone thought Danny was an impressive level of bilingual. He always seemed to know what everyone was saying, even when they weren't speaking English.

He isn't bilingual really, its more of a cheat code. It turns out getting crowned ghost king also grants you some kind of internal universal translator because Danny, simmilerly, didn't actually notice his new siblings spoke any other languages before Tim got annoyed and started ranting in French about how unreasonable Bruce was and how jason was trying his best and Danny was following his point completly before he looked over and saw Jason watching with just. A confused. Blank stare.

And then he shrugged to Danny and said "I'm sure whatever he's saying is a good point and I'd back him up, if he's say it in English, PLEASE-"

Which solidly clued Danny into the fact that Tim had, infact, not been speaking English

#bek rambles about crap #danny phantom #dc x dp #its a little weird how much I have to say about this #cus its just a lil concept #a small nibblet #the tinyesy of dynamic idea #but I feel like I could write an entire ficlet with this conept #or atleast several more paragraphs

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heleentje · 1 year

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So there's a take that crops up every so often in the Breath of the Wild fandom, and it goes something like this:

Windblight Ganon is such a piece of cake! If Revali were as talented as he claimed to be, he wouldn't have been defeated by it, so clearly he's just an arrogant blowhard.

I disagree. Because while Windblight might have been relatively easy for the player to defeat, circumstances conspired against Revali in every possible way.

Strike 1: The Blight Ganons were tailor-made to defeat the Champions

While it's not stated outright, the Blights seem to be custom-made to put their respective opponents at the worst possible disadvantage. So while Link can avoid the whirlwinds on the ground, they would be very disruptive to Revali's Gale (something he's only been able to do consistently for a short while). Arrows, too, can easily get blown off course by the wind even when using a heavy bow (so can a Rito, who is presumably lighter than a Hylian).

If, on top of that, it was raining (implied by memories #16 and #17), then Revali's favoured bomb arrows would have been useless. Not a great recipe for a fight.

Strike 2: Rito don't see well in the dark

Botw is a game that doesn't tell you a lot upfront, but you can find a wealth of information in every little corner. Case in point, in Gerudo Town there's a Rito named Frita. And she has a very interesting tidbit to share if you talk to her at night.

[Image ID: A Rito named Frita in Gerudo Town says: "Us Rito... We haven't got the best night vision, to be honest."]

When the Calamity emerged, an unnatural darkness blanketed the land. A darkness that persists from its appearance all the way through Link and Zelda fleeing and their final stand at Fort Hateno, up until Zelda temporarily sealed the Calamity (memories #15, #16 and #17).

That’s without even mentioning the laser show Windblight Ganon puts on. Ever encountered a car with LED lights on a dark road? Now imagine how Revali felt.

Strike 3: Revali had to fly non-stop for hours to get to Medoh

After sinking some hours into playing botw, you probably get used to warping all across the map via the shrines. Going from Lurelin to Rito Village is a matter of seconds. And if the Sheikah had been able to unlock the Sheikah Slate fully in the past, that would have been a massive boon to the war effort.

Unfortunately, they didn't. Which means that, when Calamity Ganon emerged, all the Champions had to take the long road to their Divine Beasts.

Now what does that mean for Revali? We can hazard a pretty good guess, but we don't have to, because the art book tells us: Revali flew straight from Lanayru East Gate to Rito Village. It's hard to tell exactly how long that would have taken him, but I'm estimating that would be about 8-10 hours flying non-stop.

[Image ID: A map of Hyrule showing the presumed routes the Champions took to get to their Divine Beasts. Revali's is a straight line across Hyrule.]

Which means Revali (like the other Champions) was probably already exhausted by the time he got to Medoh.

Aaaaaand that's three strikes, he's out!

But if that's not enough for you yet, here's one more thing. Admittedly, this is less solidly canon than the previous parts, but it's conjecture that, in my opinion, is backed up by the Champions' Ballad DLC.

Strike 4: Revali lacked his best weapon and may have been injured

The artbook shows us another salient tidbit. Revali could have detoured if he wanted to, but he didn't: he flew in the straightest possible line across Hyrule Field.

Hyrule Field, better known as the center of the chaos at the time.

Can we really expect a Champion, especially a Champion who's so eager to prove himself, to not stop and at least try to help? And while trying to help, what might have happened to him?

When you fight the Blights in the illusory realm, you gain a set amount of equipment, implied to be what the Champions carried with them at the time. And with Revali, something's missing.

[Image ID: The bow inventory during the DLC fight against Windblight Ganon. It includes a Falcon Bow, Duplex Bow and Phrenic Bow.]

Where's the Great Eagle Bow?

Would Rito Champion Revali, greatest archer in known Rito history, really not be carrying his signature bow, when every other Champion carried their favoured weapon?

This, combined with his route straight across Hyrule Field, makes me suspect that he did engage the Guardians, lost his bow, and may even have gotten injured in the process.

So there you have it. Just about everything was against Revali in that fight. And while Link, and by extension the player, may have had an easy time of it, they went into it at full health and with all the advantages of the Sheikah Slate.

Meanwhile, Revali arrived at Vah Medoh after a frantic hours-long flight only to be thrown into a fight he didn't expect against an opponent tailor-made to counter his every move, while he was unable to see properly and lacked his best weapon. And he still managed to put up one hell of a fight.

#botw #revali #meta #look I didn't write my first botw fic about this very thing just to have this nonsense persist #Revali is exactly as good as he claimed to be #and the Champions were thrown into a fight that had them at a massive disadvantage #(sidenote: Urbosa doesn't have the Thunder Helm either even though it probably could have saved her)#(Presumably she didn't want to detour when they were so pressed for time and she didn't expect a fight on Vah Naboris)

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absolute-flaming-trash · 6 days

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Pairing: Yandere!Alastor x Fem!Reader

SFW

Word Count: 1'882

Warnings: Yandere, Abuse, Abusive relationship, Choking, Degradation, Manhandling, Threats, Possessiveness, Alastor is a massive asshole and mean as shit. Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Hindsight was always 20/20.

A bit of an understatement, really. Looking back it was hard to believe just how much one decision could impact your entire afterlife, and you wanted to kick yourself.

Desperation was the excuse you gave yourself whenever you thought about why you made a deal with Alastor.

What he proposed wasn’t something you thought too much of at the time. In exchange for your soul, he offered you security - solidarity in a realm where most were keen on focusing on the weakest among them and tearing them to shreds. Not only would you be protected on a daily basis, but you had, essentially, a guarantee that you would survive extermination day whenever it inevitably rolled around.

Seemed almost too good to be true, but knowing the risks involved in refusing, you had accepted.

He never asked much of you in return, much to your surprise. Nothing that ever seemed too unreasonable, at least. If anything, the things he asked of you felt more like exchanges that would occur between friends - taking on small tasks he’d otherwise find too boring to entertain.

Sometimes you’d even go as far as to call them domestic.

Oh, but you knew better than to assume your relationship fell anywhere close to friendship. Amicable was a better word, not good nor bad, but certainly nothing to be overtly confident about - which made what you intended to ask so much worse.

The very thought of it made a shiver go through your body as you walked through the Hotel hallway. A voice in the back of your mind, your conscience perhaps, whispered that it wasn’t too late to turn back. To do a complete 180 and march right back the way you came.

You didn’t listen.

By the time you came to a stop, the hairs on your arms stood completely on end. The door in front of you looked exactly like the others that lined the hallway, deceptive in its mundane simplicity. It only made the feeling of foreboding that much worse as you held your breath and raised your hand to knock, knuckles barely grazing the polished wood at first but connecting more solidly the second time around.

A part of you prayed there wouldn’t be an answer, nails digging further into your palms as the silence extended onwards.

Please don’t answer, please don’t answer-

All hopes were dashed by the dark wood swinging open to reveal a wall of red.

Alastor bent slightly at the waist when greeting you, bringing his eye level slightly down to yours, “My, my, what a pleasant surprise this is!~”

The smile you could muster in response didn’t even come close to matching his own, and your greeting not nearly as jovial.

“Hi.” You said, pausing briefly between words. “I was wondering if you had a few minutes?”

The signature clicking of his vertebrae accompanied the tilt of his head as he stared down at you intrigued. “Whatever for?~”

You began to pick at your nail beds. “Just to talk.”

Alastor hummed, amusement dancing behind his eyes before he opened the door to his suite a little bit wider.

“Oh, I suppose I could spare a moment or two for somebody like you.~”

The way he said it made you unsure whether such a statement was a compliment or an insult, but regardless you followed him inside.

“I hope I’m not disturbing you…” You began to say, looking around the space. No matter how many times you’d been inside, you’d never get used to it.

“Not at all, sweetheart!~” His arm came around your shoulders, leading you further into his suite and towards the table he had set up in the swampland that seamlessly blended in with the decor.

With a flash of green another chair appeared beside his own, and he gestured towards it with the end of his microphone staff.

“Have a seat.~”

You complied, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you did so. Foolishly, you had hoped to stay standing for this conversation in order to keep it as brief as possible. The cool metal of the chair dug into the skin of your thighs despite your clothing and you found yourself staring at the tabletop rather than at Alastor himself.

“Now,” There was some rustling of paper as Alastor picked a newspaper back up off the table, half paying attention to you when he spoke. “What can I do for you, my dear?”

This was it. No going back, no cutting corners, better to rip the bandaid off than to beat around the bush.

You bit your cheek harder and you could already taste the blood on your tongue before you opened your mouth.

“I want out.”

Alastor barely looked in your direction, but the subtle twitch of his ear was hard to miss once you spoke.

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow but never took his eyes off the paper in his lap as he turned the page. “Care to elaborate?”

“Our deal.” The words felt thick when you spoke them. Heavy. “I want my soul back.”

Alastor’s pause made the atmosphere feel nothing short of dreadful as he turned his head to look at you directly. His ever-present smile widened while his eyes narrowed.

“Now what makes you think you deserve that, sweetheart?~”

“It isn’t about deserving anything.” You stated, trying to keep your voice as even as possible. “It’s… renegotiating.”

Alastor snickered, the sound accompanied by a pre-recorded laugh track.

“Well, aren’t you simply adorable?” He placed the newspaper off to the side and rapped his claws against the table. “Unfortunately for you, that’s not how deals work.”

Your hands curled into fists in your lap as he continued speaking.

“While the deal we made was a fairly simple one, the end result is the same.” He crossed his legs and leaned back in his seat. “I own your soul. There aren’t any take-backsies on the matter.”

Nails bit into your palm at the syrupy condescension in his voice. It made anger brim in your chest, but acting on emotion was not a smart move here.

You took a deep breath. “Our deal has run its course, though.” You did your best to ignore how his eyes narrowed further at that. “Now that I’m at the Hotel… it offers what you originally did, so your part of the bargain is no longer necessary.”

His eyes flashed, glowing a brighter red and illuminating the space between the two of you for a moment.

“Ah, I see. You think our deal is now void because I’ve been replaced in a sense.” His smile was anything but reassuring or kind. “And therefore you shouldn’t be expected to uphold your end of the bargain, am I correct?~”

You swallowed thickly. “Yes.”

Alastor tutted. “My dear, who are you to get to decide when our deal is void in any way, shape, or form?”

The question was clearly rhetorical, but you answered anyway.

“Because it’s my soul.” The firmness in your voice did little to cover how weak of an answer that truly was. “I should be able to get a say in when we’ve reached the end of our contract-”

A green flash and the cold snap of metal around your neck cut off any further words you had to say. You barely had any time to register your air getting cut off as you were yanked forward harshly into the dirt - leaving you coughing when the chain slackened enough for you to breathe once more.

“It seems to me that you are forgetting a few things, darling,” Alastor said, pulling sharply on the chain once more to force your face back up to his.

Green stitches lined the seams of his clothes and wove at the edges of his smile - antlers growing with each word he spoke, and it took every bit of courage you had to bite back a whimper.

He was pissed.

“Firstly, the Hotel,” He cooed sweetly,” is the sanctuary you rave it to be because I keep it that way.”

Alastor stood from his chair and stalked towards you, wrapping the end of the chain around his microphone as he went.

“Secondly, might I remind you that it was you who approached me.” He hissed, faux kindness mixing with the barely contained anger you could see in his eyes.

“You,” He nudged your chin with the end of his microphone, “ came to me with the proposal of offering yourself in exchange for my services, not the other way around.” His eyes scanned over your form - lingering on the way your chest moved rapidly to accommodate your breaths before returning to your face.

“I've grown... accustomed to you, my dear, and our deal stands until I say so. Since you are seemingly incapable of understanding the subtleties of that, I’ll put it in simple terms so you can understand.”

The cool metal of your collar was soon replaced with the warm, smooth texture of his glove as he kneeled in the dirt and wrapped his hand around your neck. The gesture made you gasp, reflexively drawing in as much air as possible before he could choke you, but Alastor didn’t squeeze. Instead, he let the weight of his hand do the work.

“I own you. Every breath you take, every little thought in that empty head of yours belongs completely and solely to me.”

The black of his gums peeked out as his smile - which felt more akin to a snarl - widened. “Besides, what would you even do if I gave your soul back?”

Another rhetorical question, but the humiliation and inequity of the situation caused you to answer once more despite everything inside screaming at you not to.

“That’s my business.”

The sheer volume of emotion that passed through Alastor’s eyes told you that was the wrong fucking answer to give.

He snickered and leaned closer to the point you could smell the rot of his breath. “See, you might think that, darling, but since you’re mine, it’s my business too. So here’s how this is going to go.”

The hand around your throat began to squeeze.

“My business is to keep you. You’ll keep doing each and every little thing I ask of you, and you certainly won’t voice complaint when doing so.”

You choked and sputtered again when he hauled you to your feet by your throat and pushed you back into your seat - the armrests catching you directly in the funny bone, causing you to yelp. He placed his hands on either side of you and leered over you. It was the smallest you’d ever felt in your life.

“I’m more than willing to speak to you about anything you wish, darling, I truly am.” He said, inhaling deeply before continuing, and you swore his smile dropped the most you’d ever seen it.

“But if you ever try to speak to me about this again, you’ll learn just how easy you have it with me, is that clear?”

You felt yourself nodding before your mind could even register it. “C-crystal.”

A mixture of relief and dread sunk in your stomach when his smile returned to its normal state and he reached his hand up to pat you twice on the head.

“That’s my girl.~”

#riri writes #Alastor #Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Alastor #Yandere!Alastor #Alastor x Reader #The Radio Demon #The Radio Demon x Reader #tw yandere #tw abuse #tw abusive relationship #tw choking #tw degradation #tw manhandling #tw threats #dead dove do not eat #tw possessiveness

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ingravinoveritas · 7 months

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I recently watched the trailer for OFMD season 2 and was suddenly struck by the tangible difference between OFMD and Good Omens. I'll start off by saying that I'm definitely more into GO than OFMD--though I've seen all of the episodes (so far) of each--but there is something about OFMD that I think really sets it apart from GO 2, which is that OFMD doesn't apologize for its queerness, whereas GO still does.

(It should go without saying, but this does not apply to Michael and David, whom I feel solidly fall under the category of being entirely unapologetic in portraying Aziraphale and Crowley and their relationship.)

But articles like this (which Neil actually had the cojones to share recently) that claim homophobia "doesn't exist" in Good Omens entirely miss the point, which is that it does exist in the world of GO--Shadwell calling Aziraphale a "southern pansy," for instance--and that Michael and David are showing these characters to be who they are in the face of homophobia in the form of religious repression. And while homophobia exists in OFMD as well, GO clings to a sense of nicety, of apologizing to the straight audience Neil is still aiming to reach, whereas OFMD does not care one bit about appealing to a straight audience.

OFMD is unafraid to tell a straight audience "This is not for you. You can enjoy it all you like, but we are not doing this for your approval." In OFMD, you have characters of every flavor of queerness who are just able to be who they are, without having a label affixed or checking a box (lesbians, enby folks, gay people, and so on). The actors are able to define the characters in their own unique ways--Jim with a beard drawn on with kohl, Wee John dressed as Divine in drag--so that being queer is not the main focus of who the characters are, but rather what allows them to be who they are, and the audience is trusted to understand that. I do not feel that this is the case with GO, and the result is constant fighting and policing over pronouns and identities, despite the fact that none of it would matter at all if people stopped relying on Neil to define the characters for them.

Yes, I know they're very different shows and characters. But watching the trailer for OFMD 2, I didn't feel like I had to worry about being disappointed, or that I had to search for the queer representation, because it was already there...

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mpregfrance · 5 months

Text

APH South Italy/Romano Headcanons 🇮🇹

(SFW, Spamano/RomaSpa centric)

He wears a lot of jewelry, but it's classy never flashy. Several rings, one of which is engraved with an 'A' for Antonio. Usually wearing at least a solid gold chain and a crucifix.

He's very Catholic, in a uniquely Italian way (iykyk i cannot elaborate)

He smokes like a chimney, high quality cigars and cheap cigarettes. If you ask him to put it out he will blow it right at you. This is on top of heavy cologne (Versace Eros) so you can smell him from a mile away.

Certified Short King™, maybe around 5'7? I can see him with almost any sort of physique, that being said I don't think he's a twink, he at least has some wiry strength. He's lean but solidly built, maybe even has some pudge esp as he ages?

He's very warm toned. His skin is a light olive, not pale yet not quite bronze. He tans well but isn't tan all year round. Honestly he probably uses tanning beds during winter lmao

He's got a fair amount of body hair and often leaves his shirts unbuttoned to display this, intentionally or not. He's a sharp dresser when out in public, but at home he sits around in sweat stained tanks and boxers.

He loves his red wine, and apertifs. Grappa or Sambuca for something a stronger. Doesn't mind the taste of hard liquor at all. Definitely holds his alcohol better than his brother or Antonio.

Loves sailing and yachting, leisure sports. Has a bit of a gambling habit. Not to a destructive point, just in good fun.

When he's in a good mood he hums to himself and you might even catch him singing if he thinks he's alone.

Dances to Dean Martin in the kitchen with Antonio. He actually likes cooking together. Normally he'd be the type of person to hate others in his space while doing something, but Toni is an equally talented chef so he allows it.

Makes a big pot of sauce and polpette on Sundays. Italians will know. Eats wayyyy too much meat than is healthy. You can pry his salumi out of his cold dead hands.

He's sensitive and not always rational - the type to make mountains out of molehills and deflect real issues with humour. Explosive temper. Born to argue. Quick to throw insults (and hands). Just as quick to forgive and forget. If he holds a grudge you really fucked up.

If he likes you, he'll tease you and call you names. If he doesn't, he won't bother to talk to you much. He likes to fuck with people to an extent but has little patience for unnecessary conversation.

He can be extremely condescending; and to Tonio exclusively, extremely sweet. He's a smooth talker and romantic when he feels like it, laying on the pet names and sweet nothings, especially when he wants something in return.

He's honest and loyal, but generally a very private person. It's difficult to earn his trust and get on his good side but once you have it you're one of the lucky few. He's hospitable and generous and often does that for show. Loves to give meaningful and lavish gifts. If he cares about someone not only will they be spoiled in a material sense, but he'll do favors for them to make their life easier.

(note: this might be controversial re; accuracy but i don't actually have beef with his canon human name. 'lovino isn't a real name' well yes and no. it's not common or representative. but there's so much variety in italian naming that it certainly could be a first name. according to forebears there are 259 ppl named lovino on record but only 9 are in italy lol. or u could just call him ~romano~ which is a more popular human first name. i kinda like lovino, its unique.)

#can we just retcon his chibi arc im talking about adult romano here #no ship hate pls #can you tell from this post that my dad is italian #aph south italy #hws south italy #aph romano #hws romano #spamano #romaspa #hetalia headcanons

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