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imwetforyourmom · 20 hours

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eyes on mine

summary: you’ve always been scared of eye contact.. it makes you nervous, and since chris has noticed this, he likes to use it to his advantage during times.

warnings: smut (legit no plot, js straight into the smut), no plot, hair pulling, throat grabbing (not choking), dom!chris sub!reader, unprotected sex (dont be silly, be on the pill), slight aftercare

a/n: as someone who’s not afraid of eye contact, I truly hope I did this fic justice 😭

a/n 2: thank you all sm for 900 followersss!! also, I posted this one to keep y’all fed till I can get ‘not her pt2’ out 😓😓

not proofread

chris grabbed the back of y/ns neck, craning her neck to look at chris through the mirror, making eye contact with her as he plowed deep into her from behind. “look at you baby, you look so pretty getting fucked dumb by my cock, yeah?” he spoke in a breathy voice, with each thrust of his hips he knocked the air out of his lungs.

chris returned his hands to her hips, stabilizing her as he pounded his cock into her tight walls. his eyes trained on the way her ass bounced and recoiled each time his pelvis hit it, it was fucking amazing and he couldnt get enough of it.

one of his hands moved off her hips and carressed her ass cheek, before groping it not lightly at all. he was groping, manhandling and slapping it. “god, you’re so fucking pretty.” chris whispered, his eyes moving off y/ns ass to glance at her fucked out face in the mirror, making eye contact.

“you like this?” chris asked, his tone seductive. he kept his eyes trained on hers, knowing that there was a bubbling sense of she-doesnt-know-what in her stomach, he could tell by the way her eyes faltered when they made eye contact.

y/n didnt answer, it was already hard enough to keep her eyes on his but having to use her voice, knowing it was going to be raspy and breaking with each word, purely due to the way chris was making her feel—not his cock, but the way his eyes looked into hers.

“cmon, baby, answer me.” chris’ fingertip trailed all the way up her spine, lightly and carefully, knowing it’d send goosebumps scattering all over her body.

y/n swallowed, “y- yes, fuck, I do, I love it!” she moaned loudly, dropping her head to give her neck a rest, unaware of the soon consequences.

chris grabbed her hair, making a make-shift ponytail and pulled her head back up. he leant down some, his head next to hers. he stared right into her eyes through the mirror. his eye contact not once faltering.

“eyes on mine, pretty girl.” he whispered into her ear, tightening his grip around her hair, slightly pulling it.

y/n bit her lip as she looked into chris’ eyes, her stomach twisting and churning. “fu- fuck, chris, I cant, please.” she whined, tears brimming at her eyes—not from the eye contact, instead from the brutal snap of his hips into hers. it felt so fucking good, but it felt too good.

“no.” he spoke, his eyes boring into hers. strands of his hair sticking to his forehead, each slightly curled due to the thin layer of sweat on his body. “you can take it. take it like a good girl f’me.” he grunted, leaning back again and fixing his pace, as when he was leant over it was sloppy.

chris continued his thrusting, his eyes not once leaving hers. he stared into her eyes, admiring them, admiring the color of them and the details they withheld.

he took his time analyzing and admiring them, as this is probably the closest he’ll get to willing eye contact. normally, y/n immediately looks away and or hides her face. its cute, but sometimes chris just wants to admire his girlfriends eyes.

“fuck! chris, i’m- i’m close!” y/n moaned, her words drawing out, it took everything in her not to roll her eyes back. her palm gripped the bedsheets beneath her, suppressing a scream.

“yeah? you gonna cum on my cock?” his hips began sputtering, signaling his high as well. chris’ hand snaked around her hip, finding her clit and rubbing tight and sensual circles.

y/n lets out a moan at this, the knot in her stomach snapping not too long later, a pornographic moan slipping past her lips as she climaxed all over his cock. her walls squeezing around him, almost immediately making chris cum with a moan. his cum painting her walls white, his hips stopping deep inside her, ensuring not a single drop of his cum left her.

he slowly pulled out, he kept his grip on y/ns hips, before slowly turning her around so she was on her back.

she closed her eyes and attempted to catch her breath, that was until she felt a cold sensation between her thighs, in which, she looked up to see chris in boxers and him cleaning y/n up. he finished, he threw the cloth at the bathroom door, too lazy to actually go into the bathroom and put it with the dirty laundry bin.

he sat next to y/n, sitting her up gently and putting a shirt over her body, before pulling her into him then laying down.

he rubbed her back while whispering praises to her, such as “you did so good, baby” and “your eyes are so pretty” all while lulling her to sleep.

962 words.

@luverboychris @chrissturniolosfavoritesexdoll @meg-sturniolo @junnniiieee07 @mels22lunchbox @ssilentzom @dollyspsychoxo @sturnib-tch @b2cute @livvy4realll @graysturns @wh0resstuff @jnkvivi @mattsmad @sturn-bugz @batoolareadss @mattybslover @mattsturnxoxo @littlebookworm803 @imtalkinnonsense

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algea · 2 days

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hi guys here’s some more headcannons for Lars (btw i’m doing these literally right before my exam🥲)

like i said last time, these are my headcannons, they may not be yours…

Lars loves ice cream. Even though he may deny it, he has a massive sweet tooth. You most definitely can bribe him with sweets.

Lars is a cat person. Sorry guys, had to say it. It’s not that he hates dogs, he just thinks it’s easier to take care of cats, plus they’re super goofy. He would probably own a black cat or a calico. Lars would so spoil his cat as much as possible, you think it’s a little unfair.

Lars’ favorite genre of books is dystopian fiction. Something about robots and future make him excited. He really likes the book Brave New World.

Lars takes you on a date every week. That’s how his momma raised him. He may not be from America, but he sure knows how to treat a lady. He really enjoys going to the movies or the beach with you. He thinks you’re so beautiful when the salty air blows your hair softly around you. Lars loves the smell of the sea and thinks that he would definitely propose to you on the beach.

He is super good at video games. Not like the Last of Us or Call of Duty, I mean like Centipede and Donkey Kong. It’s what he grew up playing, so expect him to be insanely good. Also don’t play him in Super Smash Ultimate, he would shit on you fr.

Lars hates when you talk to someone on the phone when he’s with you. He likes being the center of attention when he’s with you. He also thinks it’s super rude because you’re spending time with him. Unless it’s your mom, then he completely understands and gives you some slack.

His favorite comedian is Bo Burnham. More importantly, he likes the music Bo creates. It makes him literally giggle when he listens to it. You think it’s a little weird, but you’re glad he’s actually enjoying something.

Whenever you’ve been at the lab for a few days, Lars always makes you a bath before you come home so you can have some alone time. Probably the nicest thing he’ll do for you, but it definitely shows that he loves you so much.

Lars doesn’t like the heat. He’d rather be in the cold where he can wear multiple layers instead of sweating to death. Poor dude was stuck with that most of his life, so he loved it when he moved to New York.

Mr. Nerd geeks out when someone talks about Ghost Corps in a good way. He’ll yap on and on forever about it if you let him. Sometimes you’ll have to drag him away from the poor soul who struck up a conversation with him.

He has a photo album like the ‘Our Adventure Book’ from Up, which contains photos of you and him together. He looks at it whenever he feels sad or needs motivation.

He has a system of marks for when you looks especially attractive to him. Normally they’re color coded for the color you wear and have a specific shape for what kind of outfit it is.

Surprisingly, Lars’ love language is gift giving. He loves giving you little trinkets that you’ve mentioned you liked. It’s the cutest thing ever. It shows he pays attention to you.

Lars loves it when you wear his glasses. He thinks you look like a nerd and it makes you 10x cuter. If you’re in the lab and you steal them off him, he won’t take them back until you give them to him.

um sorry if these are a little short, i’ll definitely make more in the future

#ghostbusters #ghostbusters frozen empire #lars pinfield #ghostbusters x reader #lars pinfield x reader #lars pinfield x you #james acaster

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cherry-leclerc · 2 months

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pride ☆ mv1

genre: smut, established relationship, stubborn!max, jealous!max, humor, fluff

word count: 3k

After his DNF, Max finds himself losing his temper when you keep insisting that it was his fault. Due to both ends, you find yourself in a constant battle on who can admit defeat first.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+... gym sex - that's all teheee

req!...super fun to write, thank u, anon for the idea !!

He never liked to be pointed out as the one who did something wrong on track. Then again, he rarely ever made those types of mistakes. Max got along with everyone on the grid, but he was there to win. And he certainly did not need his girlfriend reminding him that he’s human, just like the rest of the drivers.

“Just admit it already, you fucked up this time. You cut him off.”

A DNF was as bad as it could get, his mood quickly deteriorated as he bangs his helmet against the wall. If you weren’t used to his dark behavior, then you would have definitely worried. Instead, you tap your foot impatiently with a deep sigh, eyes rolling with strong annoyance. You didn’t like to see him like this, but it drove you crazy that he could never own up to his wrongdoings.

The Dutch harshly rips off his balaclava, dirty blond hair sticking against his angry face, normally baby blue eyes switching to a devilish color. “You’re such a…” A deep growl. “He cut me off, and that’s what got us both out of the race. What a fucking dick.”

Your brow raises up, pointing at him with accusement. “My thoughts exactly.” Turning on your heel, you spin around and walk out of his driver's room, leaving him to sulk like a manchild. Stupid, Lando.

As soon as the race ends, you sheepishly make your way to the young Brit. “Is he mad?” he asks. You shrug as if you care about what your boyfriend is feeling at this very moment. Max wasn’t the kind to get mad, he got furious.

“He’ll get over it. Though I do suggest you run the opposite way if you spot him.” He laughs, eyes crinkling with agreement. After apologizing on behalf of the grumpy Dutchman, you hurry off to find him. Propped up against the door frame, you nervously play with the hem of your dress as you inch your way closer. You can practically see the color red blooming out of him as he smiles bitterly.

“And where were you?” His voice expands softly, it makes your stomach churn, but you put on a brave face nonetheless, refusing to give in to his ego. It doesn’t matter. He chuckles, rolling his tongue against the inside of his cheek, head shaking in disapproval. “Aren’t I the one you should be consoling? I don’t see why you had to go see him.”

Your eyebrows narrow down sharply. “Max, you’re being a fucking baby, you caused the crash! Lando was just unlucky and I went to let him know, is that so wrong?”

The Dutch fumes, jaw clenching. “You can go see him, I don’t give a fuck, but stop saying it was my fault. He closed in on me.” You scoff, arms crossed. “This is pure bullshit.”

“Whatever, I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I’m glad you’re alright,” you sourly say, pushing past him to go and retrieve your things, getting ready to leave back to the hotel. His nose twitches, following after you. Neither of you utter a single word, simply packing and strolling out the door. As soon as the media gets involved and Lando walks by with a shy smile and wave, he instinctively grabs your hand, leading you through the tight crowd with a bright smile, despite his crash.

Setting aside your differences, you’re grateful for his sweet gesture, even if it laces with a bit of possessiveness. The drive is tense, only the sound of the blinker being heard. You try adding some music, but as soon as he turns off the radio, you turn to him, hair slapping your flushed face. “Why did you do that?” Your hand slides back up, turning it on. He repeats his same actions, leaving you to burn lasers to the side of his head.

“Your music is complete shit.” Surprised by his cold tone, your right eye twitches like a crazy person before turning your attention back towards the road. He feels bad. He’s not mad at you, not even at his friend. But he wasn’t the biggest fan of letting his team down, and much less, owning up to it.

Pushing the door open, you march in, making your way to the bathroom, ready to shower off the irritation. Max trails after you without a second thought, then you slam the door right on his face. He blinks. He can hear you turning the water on, stripping down. “You’re taking a shower by yourself this time, you dickhead.”

The next few races run smoother as he finishes in first place for most of them. All of them, actually. But his wins aren’t worth it in the end. Not with your rigid congratulations, forced kisses as you wait for him along with a puddle of photographers. It shouldn’t strike him as strange; you were still upset. For a second, he considers putting his pride aside and try to fix things, make amends, but when you mumble next to him, he quickly throws that out the window.

“Baby finally got fed his bottle.”

All his pent up emotions came rushing back as you wear an innocent smile. With a sullen glare, he walks out, leaving you to gloat. Two can play that game.

Here’s the thing with yours and Max's relationship; it was amazing. A fucking dream. You loved each other like crazy, but when you both get into an argument, it can drag out for the longest time. Your friends had pointed it out countless times, accusing you two for being freakishly stubborn. Oftentimes, he’d be the first to give up and apologize, and sometimes it was you. Only this time, it looked like a long haul.

It was a weird dynamic. He still kissed you goodbye, reminded you how much he loved you. You still attended his races, glowed with sincere happiness for every podium of his, but apart from that, you two still held on to your end of the rope. And it’s been so long. One month? Maybe two?

“Four fucking months,” Max grunts, large hands fixing his drinking straw that connects to his suit. The Dutch is clearly frustrated, Checo could tell as he warily eyes his teammate. The Mexican driver poured out an amused chuckle. Max curls a dark brow. “What?”

Checo halts. “Nothing, man. You’re just being so…how do I put this nicely?” He clicks his fingers enthusiastically. “You’re acting like a douchebag. Puras pendejadas, lo que estás haciendo.” The blue eyed boy shakes his head.

“I don’t know what you mean by that.” He walks away.

“It means you’re doing stupid shit for absolutely no reason. Take it from me, I’m married! I know what I’m talking about, and as your elder, I suggest apologizing. It’ll fix everything, trust me.” But Max only ignores him, already climbing into his car. As much as he would love to try and make things right with the woman he adores like a complete idiot, there’s always something that ruins it. Whether it’s you witty reminders, or your cruel ignorance.

Though, he feels like he’s going crazy. He can feel his hands itch as they beg to hug you the way they were used to. Or to kiss your plump lips, slightly red from your constant nibbles. You can feel his eyes on you as you cut up a group of vegetables, getting things ready for dinner. Like a tease, you bend down to pick up the bag of carrots that had just fallen. You giggle. “Whoops.”

Abruptly, he stands up. “I’m going to get in a small workout before we eat.” That’s all. Left there with your jaw on the floor, you slam the knife against the cutting board.

You missed him. You’d be insane not to. You missed cuddling with him after a long day. You missed the way he would cradle your face to kiss you eagerly after every win. Now it’s almost as if you’re a couple of strangers with the way he keeps a careful distance. And if he wasn’t going to fix things, then you would force him to.

He hears you before he actually sees you. Not a single word escapes past your lips as you skip closer. His molars grind together when he notices your tiny skirt, paired with a tank top. Perky tits salute him as he holds back a groan. Smiling sweetly, you start to stretch. “Thought I’d join you. Didn’t want to eat without you.”

His heart squeezes, ghostly nodding. Adjusting himself on the bench, he starts his set of overhead presses. Loopy eyes circle his glistening muscles as he pants tiredly, shaky breaths bouncing off of him. You have to physically stop yourself from drooling an entire ocean.

The blue eyed boy leads an impressive set, a thin layer of sweat coating him like a blanket. One you would gladly roll around in. Pursing your lips, your limbs feel extremely weak all of a sudden and decide to settle with laying down and bringing your legs up, skirt sliding down, exposing your soft skin.

“So tight,” you whine when you reach up, muscles tied up in an uncomfortable spot. Intrigued, your boyfriend takes a peek and instantly curses, large hands gripping against the metal bar. He gulps. “Maxie, can you push my legs back for me?”

His breath hitches. “No. I’m sure you can do that yourself.”

Sitting up straight, you squint your beady eyes at him as he distracts himself by adding more weight to his set. You click your tongue, a menacing grin tugging at your pink lips. “Messed up, baby, you are messed up.”

Max curses himself for falling in love with someone as beautiful as you. It seriously messed him up a concerning amount. Suddenly there was no more cold demeanor when it came to you. That simply just belonged to the rest because you were everything to him.

“First, you’re too much of a pussy to admit your mistakes and now you’re too scared to get near me?” You scoff. “It’s all starting to add up.”

Except at this very moment.

“And what exactly is that? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Kneeling down onto the black mat, you stretch your arms out against it, and lay your back flat. You hum. “Oh.” You arch your back, ass angling upwards where his eyes quickly trace to. You smirk. “Nothing.”

If he weren’t so impressed by your bratty act, he would have definitely walked out on you. But you just looked so pretty, rosy, and you were glistening. He wonders what else there was on top of that. The Dutch moves on to a bench press. Huffing, he grits his teeth as he extends his arm before puffing and bringing them back down.

The 26 year old, despite your attempts, was as focused as he could possibly be. The adrenaline was lingering in his entire system as he kept his eyes trained upward. Chest locking tightly, muscles contracting. And then he hears it. Your tiny moans, soft whimpers.

The loud sound of him dropping the weight makes you jump up a bit before looking up. He finds you in your first position you had started with when you first stepped foot into the home gym. He can feel his cock press harshly against his white shorts. “Why are you…” He trails off when your mouth drops open, brows scrunching together. Your thighs beg to be kissed. Slippery arms tug your legs closer to you as you giggle.

“My legs are too tight.” His chest tightens. “Help me get more flexible?” you press innocently as you signal for him to push your legs. “Please, Maxie.”

Sighing, he nods. As soon as he steps close to you, he can feel your pouring lust, fuck me eyes staring back up at his frame. Grabbing the heels of your feet, he pushes back as you groan. “Oh shit.” You laugh, chest vibrating against the mat. “I really needed the extra push.”

He grimaces. A silence lingers between you two before you wiggle your left foot against his palm. He raises a confused brow. I’m going to tuck it to my chest. Just hold the right one. Doing as instructed, you sigh in relief, lashes fluttering. He holds back a much needed grunt. “You’re telling me you couldn’t do this yourself?”

You nip the air. “We’re not all professional athletes, Max. I needed you.”

You can see how hard your implication is hitting him as his gaze darkens. And just as he’s about to reach out for you, you wiggle your brows. Next leg. Snapping out of trance, he eyes the way your skirt rides down your skin. In a swift movement, he lets go and takes a staggered step back. You grin. What’s wrong?

“You’re crazy.”

Standing up, you place both hands on your waist. “Why?”

Max doesn’t even recall when he pins you against the wall, your hair flying from the impactful blow, and yet, you’re smirking. Kissing you harshly, you groan, leaning against your tippy toes as you struggle to breath. He seems to be lost in your lips as he cradles your face, teeth clashing against yours at the filthy action. “You’re so beautiful,” he pants, blues staring back. “So fucking beautiful.”

Whimpering, you reach back out for him, plump lips attacking his thick neck as he sighs. The purple bruises were definitely something he would hound you on tomorrow, but for now that was the least of his worries. Admiring the colorful spot, you lick it slowly. He shudders.

“I can suck something else, you know?”

You almost don’t recognize his growl, for you haven’t heard it in so long, that it catches you by surprise as he spins you around, bending you over the nearest counter, where his wall of protein stands. He hitches your skirt up as you gasp when his fingers slide inside of you. The way he stretches you out makes you see stars as you struggle to keep upward.

“Wore this just for me, right? You knew it would drive me crazy?” His long fingers curl at the perfect angle as you nod. Yes, yes. I wore it just for you. I knew you’d like it. You squeal when he lifts you up, tits pressing against the cold marble, legs dangling like a doll. His doll. He watches the way you swallow his digits. “I fucking love it, baby…”

Then, he’s down on his knees as he wraps his lips around your clit. Moaning loudly, you press your cheek against the cool tiles, saliva dripping out of your mouth at the sensation. In your fucked up state, you still reach out for him as he grabs your hand. “You taste so sweet,” he hums. You’re close to crying when he pulls away, but calm down when he thrusts into you.

The Dutch throws his head back as soon as your velvety walls wrap around his cock, the way you swallow him whole. Makes him hate himself for holding onto his pride for so long. For keeping you away. His heart races when you prop yourself on your elbows as stare back at him with tired, lustful eyes. He grins, slapping your ass as you yelp. You ass tilts up as he watches you struggle to keep up.

Warm hands come up to keep you close to him as you bite down on your lip. “You’re a fucking brat, but God, I hate it because you were right. I pushed him off. I did, I did, I did…” His dirty hair sticks against his face as you bounce forward with every pound. “But he was making you laugh - smile - and I just couldn’t handle that.”

Your heart stops. This was news to you because there was no way the Max you knew so well would break his winning streak all due to a friendly encounter. He pecks your bare shoulder. “I don’t think you understand how much I love you.”

“Then show me.”

WIth that, he holds onto your hips with more grip as his tip brushes repeatedly against your g-spot. You’re a mess, but he’s loving every second of it. As soon as he wraps a large hand around your breast, you’re gone, spluttering white all around him as he follows. With a croaky groan, he slips out as you fall back to your original spot. He chuckles. He fixes your skirt before helping you sit up to face him. Your eyes crinkle.

“You love me,” you say in a sing-song voice as you poke his dimple. I thought I made that clear. You scrunch your nose, pecking his face all over with sloppy kisses. He playfully winces, but accepts nonetheless. “You love me, love me. Why would you ever worry about me and Lando? You know he’s just a friend.”

His smile drops as it's replaced with a scowl. “I wasn’t worried, per se. I don’t like someone else making you laugh. That’s my job.”

Your brows arch. “What are you suggesting? That I just keep mute for the rest of my days, unless I’m with you?”

Max shrugs. “Sounds like a solid plan.”

You smack his chest as he throws his head back with laughter. “No. Not a solid anything. Max, I love you.”

“I know,” he whispers.

“Okay,” you confirm, fixing your posture, lips pursing. “But please never do that again, that’s just plain out dangerous and crazy. A big no-no, Emilian.” He glares and your lips wobble childishly. “You love wins, and I love celebrating them with you. It just works.”

“You know what doesn’t work?” he retorts as he hugs you. You hum, comfortable against his warmness. “Not talking to me for four months, what were you thinking?” You push him away abruptly. We spoke! “But we didn’t fuck, and that’s the same thing.”

Crossing your arms, you roll your eyes as he stares back in awe. “If you keep this up then I’m going to crank it up to eight,” you threaten.

The Dutch nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck before you cave in. “Let’s not do that. You’d be breaking my heart.”

taglist: @myownwritings @d3kstar @crucifiedbitch

*note: i've only tagged those who asked to be included in general. i've kept that apart from the method acting series taglist!! lmk in which you would like to be, just in case!

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deadghosy · 2 months

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Hazbin Hotel x Jeff the killer or BEN drowned reader.

Please?

SURE! I’ll do Jeff the killer as someone had requested I do BEN drowned! 🦆💗💗

HAZBIN HOTEL X JEFF THE KILLER! READER

prompt: after fighting with BEN drowned, Ben decided to send you into a show….

You were asleep snoring as Ben snickered holding up a tv that was playing a title card saying “HAZBIN HOTEL” and with that. He smacked you having you go inside the tv with a devilish smirk. You hit the ground as your body did a whole fucking Peter griffen pose 😭

*metal sound* DAYUM!

You were screaming curses under your breath at Ben who just smirks at the tv and leaves whistling like a damn cartoon character. You dusted yourself off looking around this place.

“The fuck is this?….” You said with a scowl looking around…there’s a bunch of ruined buildings and fire everywhere. You walked around confused as some demons whistle at you. Literally catcalling you as one tried to grab you, when they tried to grab you. You stabbed their fucking hand smiling with that extended smile to your cheek.

“Fuck you think you trying to do huh?” You said with a crazed smile as they fall holding their hand to see you aren’t really a “girl” “YOU’RE A GUY??!” You rolled your eyes wanting to be sarcastic “No. Ima killer..Now. Go. To. Sleep.” You said lastly stabbing the demon in its head. You kept walking as the bystanders move out of your way.

AND YEES WE ARE GOING WITH FANON LOOK INSTEAD OF THE CANNON LOOK😨 CANNON JEFF IS SO…..

Let’s just skip ahead, so you went to the hotel as you seen an advertisement about redeeming….tbh you didn’t give a fuck about redemption, you only needed a room.

Vaggie was definitely judging you by your looks as you had shaggy [idk if I wanna give you black hair or just your own color hair but you can imagine yourself as Jeff or nahh] hair and blood stained clothes. But soon later you turned out to be a chill person who helps their peers but also jokes around.

Alastor and you just stare at each other “smiling” at each other just waiting for the other to talk.

“…..so like..are you always this ugly or were you born that way…” “my smiley fellow, I was born for radio…” “no you were born to be ugly-”

Alastor immediately hates you after that but your boldness is entertaining. He might just take you as a guest for his broadcast.

Angel would love to play with your hair and braid it…as you relax at the touch of Angel’s hands in your hair. It reminded you of how Sally braided your hair when she was bored.

Angel had put pink bows in your hair saying “this is so coquette💗” and you just stood there looking at the hand mirror he gave you. “Angel wtf. >:/”

You woke up to get your laundry to see your white jacket IN FUCKIN PINK?!

“ANGELLLL! IMA CHOP OFF YOUR DI-” yeah angel hid in the bathroom as your anger was no match for any demon….

Lucifer will feel concern about your face as you don’t look…normal I suppose. He’ll be probably have a clear weirded out face

I feel like you and Lucifer would have a weird friend dynamic as you just roll with his hyperactive activities.

“How in the hell do you eat?” He says poking your open slit by your mouth. “I just eat. Simple as that.” You said at the king of hell.

Yeah I imagine Lucifer had put duck stickers on your jacket one time.

I imagine husk and JTK! Reader doing a drinking competition….you owed husk 20 hellbucks. 🥲

Husk will actually tolerate JTK! Reader as they don’t whine and don’t complain much until something actually bothers him.

Sir Pentious would be scared of you…I mean if a normal person saw you. They would be horrified.

You give off a depressed Starbucks worker vibes who don’t get paid for shit…..literally a sinner would test you as Charlie or someone will have to hold you back as you swing your knife. “LET ME AT THEM YOU LIL SHI-”

The crew had always noticed you seemed to look more like a human other than a sinner or hell born. But they never really asked. I mean shit Alastor wanted to ask but Charlie had to tell him to stop it.

The egg boiz were scared of you until you saved Frank from cracking as he tried to reach the damn cookie jar.

You used your body to soften his fall as you hit your head on the ground. “GAH DAMN-” *crash* and then minutes later it was found out sir Pentious was watching over your knocked out body as Frank was telling how cool you saved him.

You sometimes try to call Ben to pick you up and this is how it goes: “Ben…YOU SHORT STACK MOTHERFUCKA! YOU BETTA GET ME OUT OF HERE OR I WILL CUT YOUR LINK LOOKIN ASS-” he had you on voice mail as Ben was just chilling playing video games.

I headcannon you having to wear a fucking smiley mask to not scare off residents😭

“Hi welcome to the hazbin hotel….” You said in a dead tone flat. The sinner looked at you confused asking questions. “ Why are you wearing a mask? Is your nose too big? Do you have bad breath? Are you sick? Are you ugly under the mask?”

You had enough as your eye twitched grabbing the sinner by their collar. “How about I shove my foot up your-” “OKAYYY!” Charlie says seeing you about to give the sinner a piece of your mind as she grabs the sinner from your grasp. “How about we show you around the hotel…”

Yeah you don’t do the greeter job no more….

At least you get to give out food as husk serves drinks. That was at least a cool job as husk helped you serve out small little portions of the trays you used.

I headcannon niffty to make you a bug “flower” crown to show how she admires you.

I imagine Charlie would get you a metal shirt and you would be like. “oh thanks.” You smiled and took it.

You had a knife stash just incase you had to defend yourself. You love collecting knives when bored….

Keyword was HAD. Charlie found your knives and hid them from yourself as you had a sad puppy face at seeing your stash gone.

Imagine you just standin there and a Charlie had put stickers on your jacket saying, “good job for not killing!”

You’re such a good kid😄

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unpretty · 5 months

Note

:O can you tell us about your How To Do My Job document? I need to make one and I have no idea how to break it down

keep in mind that my advice is very specific to my very specific job, which for many normal people with normal jobs reads like going back in time to an age before computers. it's stupid. so how applicable is this to other people? i don't know.

i have a onenote binder full of notes which i also print out and keep in a physical binder that says HOW TO DO MY JOB. i write everything as if i might wake up tomorrow with amnesia and need to hide this from everyone. my goal is that if i disappear into the woods tomorrow a sufficiently competent person could pick up right where i left off. if they can't find a sufficiently competent person that's a them problem.

step one is to break your job duties down into categories (for example mine are accounts payable, payroll, receipting/reconciliation, general ledger, and The Website)

second, break them down into how often they need to get done

actually wait, opposite of that maybe. i don't know. i don't think the order matters. the categories are for your actual notes/binder, the dates/times are for the breakdowns.

i have a master "to do list" page that i keep on hand that looks like:

Daily:

Check voicemail

Check email for invoices

Check bank accounts for entries for the reconciliation sheet

Check for EFT receipts

Enter deposit slips into the reconciliation sheet

Sort invoices

Enter ready invoices into AP system

Weekly:

Monday: AP (first and third), Payroll (every other), EMS reports

Tuesday: AP Filing, Payroll

Wednesday: Payroll

Thursday: Payroll Filing, Reconciliation

Friday: Building Schedule, Agenda

Monthly:

Print Statements [1st]

Utility Ledger [approx 5th]

etc etc etc very boring whatever i just want to give you an idea of what my list looks like. it includes shit that seems obvious like 'check voicemail' because i will absolutely forget to look at my phone. especially if i'm busy with a specific task that does not involve phones or email. an easy way is to just go through your day and write down every single dumbass thing you do if it's something you have to do regularly.

then in my to-do app i have each item broken down into a summary checklist, even the things that don't seem like they should need a checklist. i'm talking like

Check voicemail:

If the light is red on the phone, hit the voicemail button

The password is XXX#

Write down anyone that needs a call back

To forward a voicemail hit the forward button and then the extension number

Delete anything you don't need ASAP or it will sit there forever

Check email:

Open Thunderbird

Check for urgent emails from department heads requiring a response

Download any invoices and print two copies, one to hold and one to forward to the correct dept head

etc etc etc boring stuff, i didn't do these all at once, i'd pick one at a time to add checklists to while i was doing them because that makes it easier to figure out what the steps are.

THEN in onenote i took those checklists and added even more clarification wherever possible, such as screenshots of software at each stage of the process, copies of different reports and forms with different colored highlights to indicate which reports numbers go where on which forms, etc

for instance on my payroll checklist i might have one item be "check that the first employee is still present", which on my extremely detailed checklist looks like this instead:

so i'm not just explaining what i'm doing, i'm explaining why i'm doing it, and the reasons if applicable. sometimes my reasons are 'you don't actually have to do this is you're not worried about the above'.

or like, that above one about deleting the voicemails, i might have a sub-point of "our phone system is old and busted and the supervisor never deletes his voicemails so it's up to the rest of us to keep storage from filling up". because understanding why you're doing things is important.

shift+win+s to copy screenshots of software and then pasting them into onenote is a lifesaver

the cover of my binder also specifies that there is a more up-to-date resource in onenote on my profile but the chances of anyone at this particular employer being able to use that are nil

#original #boring work stuff

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multifandomgirl08 · 1 month

Text

The Moment You Smiled At Me [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fem!Reader (Pre-Established Relationship)

Summary: The evening that started it all for Max and Reader.

Warning(s): N/A

A/N: Title taken from the song Rain by Sleep Token.

Words: 2.3k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

Max had always hated going to these FIA parties. It had nothing to do with racing, and although he had no issue with supporting the sport and the people that were coming up in it. He saw no real reason as to why they had to get dressed up. Wouldn’t it have just been easier to give out these awards at the end of the season during the last race and calling it done?

He was caught in a small group of people who were waiting to get their picture taken on the blue carpet. Some of them he knew and the others he didn’t. He could see people walking around before making their way inside to the tables not stopping by for more than a glance at him.

Max glanced down at his watch to check the time and instead caught the sight of light blue fabric out of the corner of his eyes. He looked up wondering if he could see who was wearing the color, but all he saw was the back of a dress belonging to a woman who had her arms locked with a man. They disappeared into the room.

Eventually, Max had managed to make his way out of the group that he was stuck with and inside towards the tables, people weren’t sitting yet. His eyes traveled over the room wondering about the light blue dress he saw. He tried to tell himself that it was nothing, but his eyes' normal laser-sharp focus seemed to be playing a trick on him.

But then he saw it again. It was going towards the front of the stage, just a little far from where he stood. He looked a little higher and saw a wide feminine smile greet him. He felt the need to fix his posture or at the very least making it seem like he wasn’t miserable being here, but was quick to realize that she may be looking past him and not at him.

He looked behind him to see no one standing there and then back towards her to see her cover her mouth; she was probably laughing at him. He pushed his shoulders back and couldn’t help that his feet led him to her.

As he got closer he realized that he didn’t know her. Never seen her before in his life, and maybe heading straight to her was… strange.

He didn’t want to just outright ask her why she smiled at him or why she laughed at him as he looked behind himself earlier. Maybe she just did that, smiling at strangers that she didn’t know.

“Smiling at random people again, Y/N?” He heard as someone walked up to her, Y/N.

“Maybe.” She said as if it was nothing.

“I don’t know how you can just kill people with your kindness.”

“Fatal flaw.”

“Right,” He heard as a retort. “I’ll see you at the table.”

Max saw her give him a half nod before he finally came up to her.

“You’re date?” He couldn’t help but ask before he reached up to pat his hair down. He knew that it wasn’t sticking up since he had put on hair jell before he left his hotel.

Her eyes met his quickly, “No, my co-worker. I’m just his plus one.”

“Oh, what do you do?” He couldn’t help but ask.

“Private banking, I’m always traveling for work though. I can’t wait for the day when I’ll be able to work from home full time.”

Max lifted his eyebrows at her words. “Don’t like traveling?”

“I do, sometimes. I’m just a homebody.”

“I’m like that. I’m gone from home more than I would like.” He liked being at home with the cats, not having his phone to worry about, and spending time with his son. Nico was such a wonder to him. He was just over a year old and was walking and touching things that he shouldn’t. Jimmy was not happy when Nico had decided to pull his tail one time.

He wanted to tell her that story but knew that he shouldn’t. She didn’t know that he had a son, and he didn’t want it to get out.

“What about you? What do you do?” She asked. Before he could answer Christian came up to him.

“Max, I hate to interrupt but you’ve got to go up. They’re starting the ceremony soon.” Max silently glared at Christian for a moment.

“That’s okay.” She said reaching towards the table for her handbag. “It was nice talking to you, Max.”

She quickly bowed her head a little before going off towards the tables that faced the stage. It seemed like she didn’t know who he was, or what he did for a job given that she bothered asking him what it was he did.

His eyes followed her until she sat down next to who she claimed to be her co-worker. Christian put his hand on his shoulder, ready to lead him up the stage. Waiting while they lowered the lights and made all of the introductions felt like it took forever. It was like waiting behind the safety car after there was a yellow flag.

Finally, he managed to get up on stage to present the award for Rookie of the Year. He awkwardly ran through the speech that he was given and tried to keep his eyes towards the crowd but couldn’t help it when they kept drifting back to you in the light blue dress that you were wearing.

You weren’t talking to anyone while he was up on the stage. Eventually after painstakingly finishing the speech and handing the award over to Oscar Piastri, he made his way off the stage and back into the crowd of people sitting at the tables.

The rest of the speeches came to an end after a while. People started to make their way out of the room and out towards the hallway. Max hadn’t been pulled into any conversations luckily.

There was a familiar feeling of his phone buzzing in the inside pocket of his tux jacket. He pulled it out to see that it was his mom. He stepped out of the room, hoping to move away from everyone as much as he could.

He ended up outside by the valet watching as a few people were already leaving. If this wasn’t a work obligation he would have done the same and tried to leave as soon as he could.

He pulled his phone out to call his mom back. It rang in his ear.

“Mum?” He questioned after the line picked up.

“Max,” She started. “I just wanted to let you know that Nico’s asleep. It took him a while to fall asleep.”

Max had flown Sophie to Monaco to spend some time with Nico while he would he was in Paris for the FIA Prize Giving Gala. He would fly home tomorrow and be in back with Nico in a few short hours.

Nico had apparently fallen asleep in Max’s bed with Jimmy and Sassy at Nico’s feet. Sophie had told him that Nico missed him, “I miss him too, Mum.”

It was a few moments later that he said goodbye and promised to be home and back with Nico before dinner tomorrow. He pushed his phone back into the pocket of his jacket.

He could hear the clack, clack of footsteps against the cobblestones that made up the driveway to the hotel. Someone was wearing a pair of heels. Max looked in the direction of the sound to see her again.

She stood a few meters away from him, with her black bag in hand and her arms wrapped around herself. She looked like she was cold, the slit on her dress did go up quite high on her leg.

He gave himself a moment just in case someone came after her, but she just stood there looking as people kept getting into different cars.

He slowly walked up to her, “You need help, a jacket maybe?” He asked.

She looked over at him. “I’m fine.”

He could feel her eyes on his jacket. He moved to undo the button, she looked cold. He pulled it off his shoulders.

“I insist.” He said, opening it for her so she could put it on.

She moved closer to him laying the fabric over her shoulders. It only took a few moments before he saw that she looked more comfortable with it on.

“You didn’t have to.”

“It’s Paris, and it’s November. I’m surprised it’s not snowing.”

“That’s true. I figured that the Gala would be over before it got too cold.” Well at least she didn’t mean to catch hypothermia.

“They normally have it in warmer places.”

“You’ve been to the Gala before?” She asked. “I saw you present an award, so I assume that you know more than I would.”

“Yes, my first was in… 2015.” It was back when he was in Formula 3, he doesn’t remember what it was for now.

“They always this boring?”

“Yes,” He answered honestly. “They don’t change much.”

Max couldn’t help but feel a little awkward. He didn’t know what to talk to her about, he could bring up what she had said earlier, and he was just about to when,

“You didn’t tell me what you do,” She started to say. “Before we were interrupted inside.”

“I drive in Formula 1.”

She gave him a silent nod.

“You like it?” She asked. He didn’t know if he should answer honestly but there was that feeling again that told him he should.

“Sometimes,” He said with sincerity. “I like being with my team, and driving the car. Other things, like this, I don’t really like.”

“I’m sure it’s not all bad.” She was right. It wasn’t all bad, driving in Formula 1 gave him a lot, even with the parts that he didn’t like.

“No,” He said with a slight shrug. “But it doesn’t really give me a whole lot of time for other things.”

Between his F1 schedule and Nico he didn’t really have any time for much else. He had tried dating over the last year and it never seemed to end well. They always ended up wanting to move faster then he was ready for.

“I’m sure if it matters you’ll make time.” She said. He didn’t know why her saying that seemed like it had a softer tone to it after the words moved past her lips.

He couldn’t help but let out a smile. If only she knew the things that he had made time for over the last year.

“Of course, I’m sure your boyfriend feels the same.” He said, as a way to see if she would correct him again.

“Co-worker,” She corrected him just like he wanted. She smiled back at him.

“He wishes, right?” He asked, with a slight laugh to his tone.

“More than you can know.” He could hear her chuckle. So she obviously knew that her “co-worker” invited her here with other intentions.

“You can always go on a date with someone else. So he knows you're not interested.” He offered as if that would actually help her situation.

“You make a good point.” She had just said when the guy from earlier had come out to stand next to her.

“Ready to go, Y/N?” He asked.

“In a moment.” She said with a smile. Y/N didn’t leave him right after.

“Do you have your phone on you?” She asked him.

Max widened his eyes. Was she doing what he thinks she is?

“Uhm, jacket pocket on the right.” He watched her pull his phone out of the inside pocket of his jacket, she turned his phone to him silently asking for him to unlock it for her. He didn’t even take it out of her hand. Just moved a little closer to put his face in view of the front camera so that it would unlock.

She moved to type something in before handing him his phone back and then quickly pulled her own phone out of her bag. He looked down at the screen for a few seconds before a text showed up with the words, Think he’ll take the hint this time?

He heard the closing of her bag before he saw her pull the jacket from her shoulders, slowly handing it back to him, almost as if she didn’t want to lose the warmth the jacket had provided her in those short moments.

“Call me, if you’re ever in London.” She said with their hands brushing and gave him a wide smile before following the guy to a black towncar. His eyes followed her and he couldn’t help but slightly flex his hand from feeling their skin touch. Before she got inside the car she gave him a second look. He couldn’t help but feel a little like he couldn’t breathe, like he had just gotten out of the car after Singapore, watching her leave him standing there. His head was spinning a bit.

He wasn’t sure if he really should. Max would never say that he was the best at flirting and he was sure that this only proved it. But somehow, she still gave him her number and told him to call her.

He took a moment and then pushed the thought away, it was probably just to get the guy to back off.

It was the last week of November, Max had finished up early with all of his sponsorship things at the Factory. He would be leaving to go back to Monaco in a day or two and he couldn’t help but look through the text messages on his phone until he came across the text from Y/N again.

He had thought of her a bit since the Gala. He thought of her, and their conversations. It had taken him a bit before he had realized that she wouldn’t have given him her real number if she didn’t want to talk to him again.

He opened her contact information before pressing on her number to give her a call. Maybe he was ready to make time in his life for someone that could understand him, and eventually his son.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab

#mini verstappen series #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen imagine #mv1 imagine #mv33 x reader #mv1 x reader #mv33 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagines

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n30nwrites · 2 months

Text

Now Sit (Shifter! TF141 x Male Reader)

Part 2 of Good Doggy

Masterlist here

Warnings: None really??? I'm not sure. Some awkwardness but that's cause Reader couldn't give less of a fuck. Some creepy behavior

Updated; 3/5/2024

Beta Reader: the lovely @letmelickyoureyeballs who's saving your guys asses right now

Part 1 here.

The entire house was shrouded in darkness. The windows were covered up in thick fabrics of purples and blacks. You didn't have any lights on, instead some candles that were hastily lit when you had entered the building and a few lamps. Your eyes were thankful for the darkness after the long drive during the day.

Your first trash bag was filled with clothing fabrics, they all needed to be washed so you quickly filled the tub with warm water and laundry soap, sorting the fabrics by color before tossing in the divided groups. Starting with your whites.

You decided to bring more boxes in, figuring the more you unboxed the easier it would be when the rest of your stuff arrived. Your box labeled ‘Gear’ was the first box to be put up, putting it in the closet near the entrance so you could pretend it wasn’t there. Just looking at your uniform brought back memories that you wish you could ignore. The second box was just one filled with knives, your swords were in another container wrapped up tightly in the back of Maya’s car. The Knives were put into your bedroom, you would come back to organize them when you weren’t so hungry.

You had cash ready for your pizza. Along with a tip because people needed to be tipped well. Especially in the service industry.

So when a knock echoed in the open-spaced living room, you had the cash tightly gripped, exact change in one hand and in the other the tip.

Until a man who was very obviously not the pizza delivery driver stood there, your pizza in his hand.

Well you figured it was yours. And there was no way this man was a delivery driver. He was far too fine to be one, if you were honest with yourself.

He was 6'2 which immediately put you on your toes, athletic build with graying-brown hair and blue eyes. He seems to look like he's reaching his 40s, something that shouldn't be so attractive yet is.

God, you needed therapy.

But, smash.

Nope. Nope. It was just inappropriate thoughts of an impossible achievement. You didn't need a relationship, not after your last one. You needed solitude, you needed to live a normal life without constant stares.

"Why do you have my pizza?" You ask him, money being squished.

"I paid for it, figured I could do that for the new guy." He speaks and seems almost cheerful, which is strange.

"I'm not paying you back."

"You don't have to." He handed the pizza to you and you snatched it quickly, almost comically. "Okay, bye." You go to shut the door but he quickly protests.

"Wait, who are you?" He seemed desperate and you didn't understand it. You sat the pizza on the table you had set up right next to the door, which was supposed to hold trinkets and your keys but you hadn't put the bowl there yet. You rolled your hand, rubbing your wrist that had ached from just a minute of holding the pizza. It was something you were working on fixing, just not right now.

"Who are you?"

"John, I live over at that house." He points to the house that Stalker 1 and Stalker 2 stood outside of. It was big enough for you to assume they were roommates, or perhaps a family.

"Can you tell the guys to not stare next time? It was uncomfortable." You blankly told him, before introducing yourself, only saying your first name, same as John did.

"This is a pretty big house for you to live all alone in." He was fishing for information, John knew that it could come off creepy, but he needed to know something about this person in front of him.

His mate.

"I don't live alone." You tell him, and he believes you are lying to him. He doesn't hear another heartbeat, and Ghost and Soap said that you arrived alone. "My Partner is coming with the rest of our stuff."

Partner? Why the hell do you have a Partner? How could you not know that you have three (maybe four with the way this pattern is) men waiting for you, willing to do anything for you. He's angry, and he knows that it makes no sense to be. You had lived your entire life before meeting them, it's not like you could drop everything and move in with him.

Despite everything in his body screaming at him to take you into his home and keep you there, keep you safe. And it's unreasonable, and something he would never do unless he wanted to traumatize you.

His eyes slightly widen at his own thoughts, and he needs to take a step away from you. You muddle his brain, you confuse him. He's had partners in the past, but this was different.

You weren't even supposed to be here.

"I'm sorry for bothering you sir, hope you enjoy your pizza." He takes a step away and turns and you don't bother to say goodbye or even thank him. You shut the door and he can hear you shuffle around and grab the pizza.

Price hates himself for what he's going to do next.

Gaz is almost surprised at the meeting. He says almost simply because he knew Price was going over to the neighbors, he watched the leader leave the house and pay off the pizza man. So something had to happen.

They just had to wait for Ghost to get home. Price was insistent on it, that everyone needed to be there and they couldn't wait nor do it over the phone.

He just wasn't expecting the words.

A theory that you were somehow mates with all of them. Price had revealed your status to him which caused Soap to blow up. It seemed ridiculous, all four of them connected to you.

But Gaz wanted it to be true. If he could just walk over and meet you, to find out.

If Gaz could no longer feel so alone because of you. He would do anything for that. So he didn't care that Ghost didn't seem to trust you, claimed you could be some creature putting a spell on the team, he didn't care that Soap wanted you for himself. He didn't care that Price was still talking.

He went outside and ignored the protests.

And he was lucky too, because a car had pulled up to your house and you walked out, sunglasses on and a large jacket which didn't fit for the weather.

But he could finally see if it was true.

-----

Okay so I skipped my homework to finish this (i'm not gonna be this irresponsible I swear) and I made a poll here where you can decide on if reader is a human or not. I have plot points for both (probably a longer story if not human??? but that depends on what the people want) also please reblog and leave comments I usually lose interests with these and I'm trying not too. Gonna post a Masterlist for this soon, and if you want to follow the story you can follow the tag Good Doggy FF so you don't have to have notifs on lol.

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yan-lorkai · 5 months

Text

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Uh.... Apparently I wrote this in the middle of the night but also I have no recollection of it. The things I found on my drafts are so funny lol. Enjoy??? And on another note, gonna finish my others requests this week, I promise! 🥺🤞

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, domestic fluff, I think, soft!Sebby, nudeness, kidnapping but reader doesn't care anymore.

That night, as the moon shone in the starry sky, Sebastian prepared a hot bath for his beloved. The scents of herbs and flowers filled the air, he had even lit several candles of different colors to create an even more comfortable atmosphere. Sebastian was perfect in every way, even though the beginning of your relationship was turbulent, everything had now improved.

Carefully he adjusted the water temperature, making sure it was perfect and exactly how you like it. His beloved mate deserved the best after such a stressful day.

With a calm smile on his lips, Sebastian entered the room he shared with you. There the demon's heart leaped inside his chest, something he would never have believed possible before. You were sitting in your armchair, with a tired expression and your eyes heavy with sleep. Sebastian approached silently, wrapping you in his strong arms.

"Bassy?” You opened your eyes, holding back a yawn but settling comfortably into his arms.

"Shh, go back to sleep darling, I'll take care of you now." He whispered in your ear as he carries you to the bathroom. And you gave yourself to your loved one's care without question, trusting him completely.

If it were a few months ago though, Sebastian thinks with grace, you would force your eyes open and fight against his touch, fight against everything he would do because you used to fear him. Sometimes you still would evade him but now just to tease him and to see the expressions on his face. "It's priceless", you often say.

With skill and delicacy, Sebastian undressed you, revealing the soft skin he adored so much. He let your body sink into the hot water, listening to your sleepy sighs of delight with a smile. Tenderness adorned every movement he made, washing every inch of your body, his fingers gliding gently across your skin, massaging your tense muscles and making you let out soft giggles.

You are such a precious little thing. Giving yourself over to him and his sick love, a love that consumed and consumed and never stopped growing. A love that took away everything you knew, but gave you everything you needed. Sebastian didn't care if it was unhealthy or selfish, he only cared that he had you exactly where he wanted you.

He loved every detail of you, every imperfection that made you unique in his eyes. In other times this feeling would have been a source of shame for the demon, but now it was something he was proud of.

When the bath came to an end, you woke up as the heat of the water left you, but you were soon wrapped in the soft, fluffy towel. Sebastian took you back to the bedroom, humming as he sat you down on the bed and dried every part of your body.

You smiled. "You know you didn't have to do all that."

Sebastian rolled his eyes at your statement. What kind of lover would he be if he couldn't do that? Instead of answering you, he inquired. "What do you want to wear to bed?"

Normally you would wear your pajamas, but for the last few days you have been sleeping in one of his shirts. They were long and had his signature scent even after they were washed, they were comfortable just like you had said after this became a constant occurrence. The look on your face already responded and Sebastian promptly presented you with the white shirt, helping you put it on with the same delicacy used when he bathed you.

You pulled him closer as he reached to fasten the buttons and left several small, noisy kisses across his face. If he was a human, you knew that at that moment he would have blushed due to the expression that inhabited his face at that moment.

He helped you lie down right away, kissing your forehead. The candles were extinguished, the covers were placed over you to protect you from the cold, he walked away to put the towel to dry and when he returned your eyes were already closed. It was difficult not to feel drowsy when all that surrounded your small house were wide woods that stretched out immensely.

"Sleep well, my beloved mate," Sebastian whispered, caressing your face very, very sofly.

The demon also changed his clothes before joining your side, pulling you closer until your back was flush against his chest and resting his head in the crook of your neck. As sleep enveloped you completely, Sebastian smiled, watching your nose curl and your eyebrows twitch, listening to your sighs and snores and feeling your heart beating.

Demons don't usually sleep, but they can if they want. Before you, Sebastian used to think all of this was beneath him. But now that he has you, now that he has experienced love for the first time, he closes his eyes and lets sleep take him too without thinking twice.

#yandere sebastian #yandere sebastian michaelis #yandere sebastian x reader #yandere sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian x reader #sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian michaelis #sebastian kuroshitsuji #yandere kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji sebastian #yandere black butler #black butler

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50cal-fullauto-astarion · 9 months

Text

hot in sarajevo i

[ part two ]

könig x f!reader operator (no use of "y/n") / 4k words / NSFW

cw: assassination, dubcon (not really bc reader is into it and consents, but better safe than sorry bc ymmv), unsanitary conditions, rough sex, unprotected p-in-v sex, fingering, creampie, brief mention of burn injuries, pre-established relationship a.n.: no excuse for this, indulged a brain worm on my day off bc i wanted to write something nasty. enjoy!

It’s been a blistering, miserable six hours out in the hills outside Sarajevo proper. The height of summer, surrounded by dead-brown grass blown about sadly in the weak breeze. You cook in your ghillie suit, knowing it could very well be another six hours under this heat with zero shade, just waiting on your target. Sweating. Searching. Souring.

König is your spotter, and he’s already not pleased with the fact. He’d much rather be the one wrapped around the Steyr HS .50, instead relegated to the seemingly miserable role of binocular jockey. But the fact is, he’s better at recon, and you can stay planted in one place without moving even when your lower body burns with numbness.

“I’m hard,” he announces in his way—no preamble, no fanfare, moderate expectation.

“Christ,” you snort, pulling away from the scope only enough to throw a glance at him. He’s still pressed against the oculars, jaw working on sunflower seeds because they can’t smoke without setting the tinderbox field around them on fire. Otherwise, you can barely see the shape of him in his own ghillie suit among the grass. “Clench your legs and your torso, or hump the fucking dirt.”

“Not going to get the job done,” he laughs darkly, dumping back another mouthful of seeds. You can hear them crack between his molars as he bites down hard.

He’s going to be a fucking handful after this.

Going back to your scope, watching the highway, you promise him, “If you’re good helping me with this assassination, we can play when we’re done.”

Another hard bite, another gravelly laugh. Sing-song, he warns you, “Better hope he drives by so-oooh-oon, Schatzi.”

“Always nice to get a visit from mean-König,” you hum back, trying for unaffected, even as your cunt floods and clenches around nothing.

It’s just hitting golden hour when the target finally deigns to bomb past your scope in a civilian vehicle trussed up in subtle armor. You and König slot right into the predator drift, bodies left behind to fall into the hunt. Working like extensions of one body, he confirms a PID, and throws calculations your way, sharp and sleek, and your blood turns into straight adrenaline, pupils dilated to pitch black.

You work like the sword of god, lining up your crosshairs, allowing for lead, allowing for wind and elevation, and when you exhale and give the trigger what it wants, the sky cracks in half with a sonic boom, big gun bucking brutal against your shoulder. With one shot you take out the target and driver, vehicle careening off the road.

König’s low, restrained laugh blends into yours, your teeth chattering under your face covering. Two more shots cut the blood-and-gold colored sky, killing the remaining passengers, and something vile in you shrieks with delight when one of them staggers around without a head a few steps before falling backwards stiff as a board.

Your eyes catch his as you throw the safety, pulling the massive rifle into your arms to flee the scene, and he looks blood-poisoned with arousal. The normal blue-gray of his eyes are gone, sore, unblinking pink sclera around inkwell pools of black. His back heaves with his breathing, body rigid and clenched, hips grinding against the ground. He is going to fucking tear you apart and eat the pieces. Saturn Devouring His Son, König Devouring His Lover.

Without a word, you both force your bodies around in the tall, dead grass, ghillie suits blending your belly-drag crawl to the treeline.

There’s a five mile hike between your abandoned perch and the exfil vehicle, following back the steps you took this morning, with a staging site in the middle of it. Small clearing, deep enough that no one could stumble across it, a temporary home for your rifle’s case and minimal necessary equipment.

The moment you’re both upright in the treeline, König’s got a vicious hand under your camo, gripping your belt, dragging you close and up, forcing you on unbalanced tiptoes. “You’re going to fucking give it to me,” he demands.

You turn it around, snatching a hand under his hood, gun sagging in your arms. Your fist wraps around the jaw strap of his helmet, knuckles pressing into his jugular–his pulse is fucking racing, booming, screaming through his veins–and your teeth are shards of glass as you command him, “Fucking heel. You’re not being a good boy.”

That makes him pant, almost reeling, eyes blinking out of sorts, pulling you closer, almost against him.

“That is not how it’s going to work today,” he says, slow and damning. Turns your blood into lava, thick and slow and lethal pumping through your heart as it fights for its life. He pulls the rifle from your hand, and it weighs nothing to him. Nearly looks like he’s got more to say, and he’s trying to figure out how to word it, but his brain is too clouded with lust to put it in the right order.

Hefts the gun over his shoulder like a bat, and shoves you back by the pelvis, releasing you. Time to go, the moves say, leaving you no dignified way to hold onto the authority that’s slipped through your fingers.

You know he’s burning frustration, anger, and resentment as fuel for this mood. You were the designated sniper, he was a lowly spotter. In his mind, that position belonged to him, and you took it. It didn’t matter that you were the superior choice, that he was invaluable to the kill.

No. Not at all. You stole from him, and he’s taking something in return.

If you weren’t thinking solely with your pussy, you would admit that it would probably be wise to exercise caution with him at the moment. But you’re not. You’re going to get your brains fucked out and painted on a tree.

At the staging area, scant gold light is cutting through the trees as the sun lumbers its way to setting, and the woods are humid and dense. Your boots crush fallen beech nut pods and pine needles. Could almost be Thoreauvian, if there was a lake, or not a gun big enough to kill god in the arms of a sexually frustrated Austrian maniac.

König is fast and quiet, ripping the mag out of the gun, emptying the chamber, dropping the gun on its case. You’d seen him piece apart a pistol to base components in ten seconds many times, he’s making himself take time with the rifle, leaving it barely touched.

You’ve got enough time to just prepare for him to grab you around the middle so you aren’t thrown off balance, leaning into his momentum as he hauls you to an enormous beech tree, his back sliding down the trunk. Keeps you pinned in his lap, laughing harsh and ugly as you deal with your belt, button, and zipper, “Good girl–good fucking girl. Know what I’m going for.”

“You’re easy to predict,” you bullshit him with a sharp edge. He’s going to get his way, and you’re going to deliver unto him whatever the fuck he pleases, but you’re going to keep your teeth through it. “Could’ve taken the suits off, could’ve really given you a show.”

“Cute that you think I’m in a rush. You’re in the suit on purpose,” he grates, thrusting against your ass, forcing you open with your legs over his knees. “Keep being mouthy. Only fucks me up worse.”

“Stiff breeze gets you fucked up,” you snort, but when he hooks his gloved thumb in your zipper, you lift your hips to help him pull your pants down your thighs. Leaves you exposed, drenched in sweat, and wet in his lap. “Goddamned freak.”

He bypasses the true and mutually reflective accusation completely, grinding the forehead of his helmet against the back of yours. Still looking for affectionate closeness, even when he’s out for blood. “Can smell you, good god,” he growls, sliding his huge hand into your underwear, grabbing your sex in ownership. “You and the military issue drawers–typical. Been a while since I fucked you in gear. Still wearing the boxers because you wish you were hanging dick, or is it just to match the attitude?”

“Commissary ran out of crotchless combat thongs. Waiting on a restock.” The rough fabric of his gloved middle finger splits your lips, teasing your hole, and for a flashfire second you think he’d better not give you a UTI with those dirty fucking things, before it burns straight out of your head.

“Better luck next time,” he taunts, jaw tight. You can hear the wolf-fanged smirk in his tone. “Start going commando. Make it easier.”

“Maybe there isn’t a next time,” you volley back, “best you make the most of this.”

“There’s always a next time. No one else could fuck you like me. Little whore you are, you’d get bored.”

He blots all the thought out in your head, adding his ring finger to the mix, pushing both huge digits into your starving cunt. Rips a bark right out of you, arching off his chest and pushing against his hips for leverage, trying automatically to fuck down on them even as the pain of the fabric feels like it’s rasping your insides. “Jesus fucking Christ,” you gasp, going hot-cold-and-blind all at once, nipples pulling tight under your gear.

He throws a heavy arm around your stomach, pulling you back down, merciful or mindful enough to know he needs to go slow, or this isn’t going to go anywhere except the infirmary. “Take it, Liebes, swallow them down with that pretty cunt,” he commands, his English as sharp and scraping as scythe blades felling harvest in wide, practiced strokes, “I’m not even close to done.”

You can already feel his fat cock straining against his pants, even through all the layers between you, and you rut back against it, at least trying to get some torture of your own added in. That just makes him stupid and animalistic, pushing his chin over your shoulder, trying to butt into your jaw. He wants to bite your lips, but there are too many impediments blocking the way.

His fingers squelch down to the last knuckle, your pussy spasming around them, soaking the fabric. He’s a pervert to such a degree that you know he’s going to leave them unwashed, and he’s going to wear and suck on them while he beats off when you’re not there until there’s no flavor left.

For now, he’s slow, rocking them into you in a curve, his sense of touch dampened as he searches out your g-spot. The exploration makes you feel filthy, and just a little humiliated. Used. Faceless and disrespected. It’s so opposed to his usual dogmatic worship, fresh and frightening.

He gives a little something extra, grinding the heel of his hand over your clit, telling you to use it. You do, finally feeling something physically pleasurable, even though it’s too dull and not nearly enough.

König is segmented; you’ve known that for as long as you’ve known him. Don’t know if he did it to himself, or if it was an after-affect of all the bad shit he didn’t die from. He’d let you in on enough to know that his best days are numb neutrality and boredom intercut with adrenalized high-chasing. His worst days are lost dogs and veils of blood floating through his mouth.

He almost clicks over from one facet to another when you push against his arm, hissing through your teeth as a stitch on his glove catches a fold in you. For a microsecond, lover-König surfaces, shifting you around against his body, repositioning his fingers so you aren’t hurting too badly, and then he’s gone again.

With a rough hand, he shoves the tan boxer-briefs down your thighs, and bucks your ass off his pelvis, going to release his cock.

You push your shoulders back against his chest, plate carrier digging into your shoulderblades. “Only two fingers, aren’t you acting like a fucking prince today.”

“You’re lucky you got that much,” he snaps back, groaning when his cock springs free of his trappings, and he strokes it beneath you. Monster fucking thing it is, long enough you can see the swollen, leaking head between your legs, even as you’re still hovering. There’s no give in the skin, and the head is a needy red with arousal, completely slipped from his foreskin. “Put it in.”

You ignore his order, writhing against him, your discomfort only ramping up your arousal. It’s nightmarish how badly you actually want his cock fed into you, desperate to have anything to fill the void his fingers left in you, and, shit, it would be so much sweeter and smoother than the gloves. Hot and throbbing, his precum mixing with your slick–it’s going to be so loud.

“It’s your dick, you figure it out,” you hiss, wrestling your shoulders up just enough to piss him off. His other arm moves up to your ribs, slamming you back down against him.

“Nein,” he seethes, as close to your throat as he can get, and you hear him suck back spit. Wonder if you busted his lip on the way down. Trained himself too hard not to do that otherwise, because of the harelip he’s hiding under the hood. “I said put it in, Schatzi.”

His laugh is airier this time, when you cuss him and comply, thinned out with need. He shudders into you as you brush your fingers over the length–teasing bulging veins and hot, thin skin–trying to scoop him up. He squeezes you tighter, letting out a furnace-bellow breath, as you tease the head through your wet folds, stupid fly-by-night sex-trigonometry screeching through your head as you find the angle you both need to get him in. He drops his free hand on your thigh, pulling you further open, giving himself a handle to hold.

As soon as his big cockhead plugs your hole and seals a seal with the wet, you fly to grip both his wrists, nerves on high alert. For good cause, as well, because instantly, he starts fucking up into you with harsh thrusts, constricting all around you with bruising force.

The sheer mass of him is over-fucking-whelming, and white spots crackle in your vision as you pant, trying desperately to relax and accept him into your body. Usually–when he’s sweeter and taking his time with you, not punishing you for a perceived slight like he is now–he is slower, considerate, almost hesitant until you dig your spurs into his sides, demanding he cut loose.

This time he’s forcing you to ride him, emptying and filling you in deeper and deeper strokes, forcing you to take his cock. Somehow it still feels right, just being full of him, aching with it, pussy hungrily sucking him in, wanting more and more and more.

But, god dammit, you can’t just let him get away with this. You fuck back down against him, trying to meet his rhythm with the little movement he affords your bound body, the sound of his boots grinding for purchase in the substrate, your combined dead-sprint breathing, and his balls slapping wet against your ass breaking the utter still-life quiet of the woods.

“Insertion specialist,” you bite, throwing your head back against his shoulder to belt out your whimpering laughter, and, oh, that burns him.

“Shut your fucking mouth,” he snarls, his helpless thrusting turning focused, dragging you down in hard thrusts, hitting your cervix with every deep, powerful stroke. It knocks the wind out of you, and you’re left speechless, probably what he wanted.

It puts you in a trance state, your eyes unfocused looking up at the canopy as he uses you. A wet, liquid-gold heat starts building pressure behind your pelvis, and a frantic harebrained thought tells you that you have to piss. It only gets worse when he drops his hand back between your legs, putting a finger on either side of your clit, his intent clear.

“Wait,” you wheeze, barely surfacing the trance, rolling your eyes wildly toward him, finding his focus is between your legs. “Wait, König, I–”

“Just fucking take it,” he cuts you off, and it’s not entirely cruel. He’s forcing an orgasm on you, maybe the thought crawled up out of the part of his heart where his empathy lives, the part he hides until his real-boy-skin-suit has fallen away in tatters. You know what’s underneath. You love him for what he is.

You squirt when you come, pouring down his cock, soaking your thighs. Your cunt tries to push him out, but he belligerently stays buried, riding it out with you, and he whimpers as you spasm and ripple around him, biting your shoulder through his mask and the gaiter beneath it. It’s a dull pressure, and you wish it was sharper.

“Oh my god,” you keen, trying to turn and hide your face, trying to draw your legs back together as wave after wave of pleasure rock your body, your stomach turning in benign shame. König praises you, “Good, good, good, good,” his words falling away into a German blur that you have a hard time translating.

“Arch your back, curl up,” he tells you in his native language, his command voice withering, getting lost as he gets closer. He’s gotten fatter in your swollen cunt, and he throbs against your walls. His balls are pulled up so tight, you can feel them against your lips on the upstroke.

All you can do is listen, lifting off of him and curving like you’re living through an exorcism.

Doesn’t that make him lose his goddamned mind. Moans like a shocked virgin getting his first piece of pussy, in tandem with the cry you release, sliding in at a new angle. He can’t even help himself, he’s just stupid with pleasure, chasing it. All the bite and venom he had floods out of him, and he’s just a panting, greedy, whimpering mess, holding on to you because he needs an anchor, because he needs you.

He pushes up onto the balls of his feet, leaving the tree completely, forcing you back against him in the cage of his body. Your legs slide open over his thighs, and you’re dependent on him to keep from falling face-first in the forest floor and eating shit. He keeps you up, clutching to you, fucking you with short, fast thrusts, the soaking wet sounds of his cock demanding everything your cunt can deliver obscene, carnal.

Your idiot hand grabs for his hood as it hangs over your shoulder, spilling dumb swears and nonsense, “Fuck–oh, fucking–god dammit, König, you’re. I can’t,” that he meets with simple begging, “Bitte, bitte, Schatzi, bitte, Ich brauche, bitte, Ich brauche–”

His form staggers, and he takes a knee, locking up tight, letting out a thin, high-pitched cry of shock as he cums, flooding you completely in big jets. The pressure is uncomfortable and delirious, but you try to tighten around him, hold as much as you can.

Both of your heads ring in the immediate aftermath. You can suddenly tell that both of you reek, the scent of twelve-hours worth of stakeout body odor mixing with musk, sex, and cum. You can tell by how his mouth sounds as he pants and tries to collect himself and work through his intense but inescapable post-nut shame that he’s dehydrated. You are, too, your head pounding. And, just because you know him, and you know how you work as a team, you don’t need to look at either of set of your shaking hands to know both of your blood sugar is utterly fucked.

Slowly, he lumbers back up against the tree, his touch turning softer. You flop back against him, winching when his cock slips out of you, hanging glistening and messy between his legs. He buries himself in the crook of your neck, trying to steady his breathing. His arms come up again–not to pin you in place, but to hug and hold you. You pat the scant sliver of bare skin between his gloves and the cuff of the ghillie suit.

Only occurs to you right now how stupid you two must’ve looked. Like a monkey fucking a football. Or maybe two bushes getting battered around in a storm. You snort a weary laugh, and he shakes his head, nosing deeper. He’s asking for quiet. You give it, letting your eyes slip closed as his cum drips out of you.

A few minutes later, he stirs, kneading your sides with his fingers. Mean-König has fucked off, you can already tell. It’s not KorTac-König, either, the one that’s nasty and loud and abrasive. This is just König. The slice of him that you know the first and last name of. The one that takes you on dates, and to go grocery shopping at Lidl–who lets you kiss his harelipped mouth, who lets you moisturize and massage the gummy wads of keloid burn scars eating up the left side of his face and neck, from when he was burnt by boiling sugar as a child, when they feel tight and miserable.

For convenience, and knowing you’re both going to seek it out, you unclip your helmet straps, letting them tumble off your heads. Further, you reach back and pull the hood off over his head, dropping it over your thigh, and pull your mask down as he pulls down his gaiter.

He helps you shift enough that you’re lying on your side over him, wet, soft cock pressing into your naked thigh. He sighs when you kiss him, light, quick, over and over, never really leaving his lips. He’ll be needy for the rest of the night.

His pupils are slowly going back down to a normal size, and the blue is coming back, all puppy-eyed and wet as he presses your foreheads together. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. I had fun.”

“I shouldn’t have been that rough. Or mean.”

You shrug. “You know I thought it was hot.” You give him simple facts, easy to chew and swallow while his teeth are hurting from his harshness. You think he’d probably ask you to pull them so he couldn’t do something like it again in the future, but that is simply not in his nature. Fanged, or not, his moods will come and go.

His hands tremble, going to his thighs, and he digs up a zippo and a pack of cigarettes, pressing them into you. “Could you light some for us, please.”

You do, giving him another kiss before you break to try to attend your given task. He helps stabilize your hands, and you end up with lit menthols, popping one between his lips. He inhales deeply, shuddering as he relaxes a physical notch.

You heavily pet his face, traveling his bone structure, and then down his neck. Start to focus on his chest and shoulders, because it will help him down the easiest. Even though he took charge today, you still readily slot into the process of leading aftercare, truncated as it is by being in the field. Almost literally.

“Think you’ll be up for more later?” you ask, digging your fingers into the spot behind his ear that always makes him lax. “Safehouse would let us take our time.”

He makes a grumbling noise, touching your noses together. “Want to love you. Not fuck.”

“Yeah, no. I couldn’t take another fuck tonight,” you snort in agreement, and, finally, he snorts back. “We need to get moving. Sun’s going down, and we need to report.”

He gathers you up for a final, lingering, sloppy kiss before he unwinds from you, knowing that you’re right. And, besides, there’s a safehouse looming on the horizon.

#konig #könig #call of duty #cod mw2 #mw2 #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig smut #my work #ngl i just wrote my oc in second person pov so like sorry but honestly not that sorry lmfao everyone still gets to eat #but there's no use of names or nationality markers it reads pure reader

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horror102 · 1 year

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Night time massacre!

Slashers x Asylum therapist GN! Reader

TW: Midnight Angst, Heavy Angst. Emotional Hurt! Manipulation, Lying,

(Slashers: Gabriel May-Hannibal Lecter-Norman Bates-Brahms Heelshire-Jacob Goodnight)

Your plan was to get the slashers to trust you, that was what you were instructed by your peers and boss. And it was a hefty deal of money. And being a little middle class or below it, you needed the money. And when you were done you left.

Norman bates

His mother kept telling him it was a trick, utter buffoonery! But he didn’t listen, he insisted it was love. And that you felt the same way!

The way you would bat your eyelashes at him. How you’d lightly wake him up from his solitude.

He couldn’t keep his eyes off you practically sticking his head through the bars as your feet tapped the cement floor of the halls.

He’d watch how you step, notice a pattern in your walks, grow shy when you’d pay attention and bring up what he said in far later notices.

One day he’d even take it up to himself to make you a mattress flower, ripping his mattress up with raw strength and shaping it into a flower with his teeth and peeling cement off the walls.

He planned to give it too you Friday, so you won’t have to come back the next day and think about his proposal while you were on your two day break.

But Friday never came, you weren’t there. He thought, maybe you were sick. Oh my! Maybe you were sick! You probably caught the flu. Maybe it’s pneumonia, god you could die! No, no, no, no, his precious angel couldn’t die before he confessed.

He didn’t sleep, he didn’t eat, he didn’t even listen too his mother. He thrashed out on his own. Growing agitated after days passed. Monday, where were you? Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday. And on and on. He couldn’t fathom the fact that you were gone, Completely.

Hannibal Lecter (series)

He knew you didn’t care for him, he acted in such a job himself. He knew, oh god he knew, but he was so lonely he couldn’t help but enjoy the company.

He loved everything about it, from the clacking of your shoes as you stepped in the room to the way your eyebrows tilt when you were confused.

How you’d laugh at his stubble seriousness or jokes that were “so unfunny that they were actually funny because it wasn’t!” You stated.

Mesmerizing his favorite color, his phrases, adapting some of his manipulating habits.

He began to fantasize, creating this delusional realities of intimacy of you two in his mind while he slept uncontrollably.

He began to obsess, Thursday he mesmerized your schedule, trying to learn about you. But then Friday came and you weren’t there.

It was hard to keep up with time in the asylum so he just assumed you were off on Friday’s

Until you were off on Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, and back to Thursday.

Maybe you got hurt, best case scenario rather then the image in his head of you getting murdered by one of his enemies.

The image of you being eaten and cut up like he did to his victims, a piece of your jewelry hung up as decoration.

His mind became distraught, keeping his usually calm demeanor but eye bags were clearly shown. Agitation in his voice and hatred as he talked to the new therapist.

Gabriel May

For a while he didn’t trust you, he didn’t believe someone would try to understand a “parasite.”

He was utterly surprised when you called him Gabriel instead of “IT” when you called him by his normal He/him pronouns instead of “a parasite.”

He grew a little agitated at the fact that you made your way into his little heart, giving him more time then his sister to talk to him.

Letting him take turns to draw with his sister as if he was still a little kid.

Once you talked to his sister longer than you’d normally would, he’d show verbal aggression. Going occasionally silent, or making tiny whispers to his sister, threats of any kind.

He began blocking out his sister, so while you thought you were talking to her you were actually talking to him.

Learning what you’d tell her while she would usually block him out due to her command.

He’d wake up early so he could take control.

Make her hallucinate so she’d be scared and have a fearful nap.

Make her have extra long nightmares, just so she could complain about them to you which made him angry.

Watch as your eyebrows furrowed when you would talk to him and scold him about what he did.

But something that made his heart flutter is when you always forgave him.

Thursday he did it again, he terrorized her. And you scolded him and Friday he was supposedly going to give you his apology for attention.

But you didn’t come, maybe you were sick, it could only be a cold, right?

Maybe you left him, just like his mother, just like how his sister tried to block him out, just like how the doctors tried to take him out. Just like everyone else in his life.

No! You couldn’t have you promised said you would come back the next day.

Why would you lie? You had no reason too. You wouldn’t just abandon him, would you?

He started to listen in when his sister would talk to the guards. Hearing something he wish he didn’t.

No that can’t be true, they left.

Brahms Heelshire

He quickly became attached. As soon as you walked on the door, watching you eye the cracked up doll and him. Watching you observe the two.

Asking him normal questions and not pondering him to leave the doll.

Asking him how the doll was, did it chip again? You could help him fix it.

Those words were like music to his ears, as you fixed it, he was eyeing you down. Watching how your hands delicately took the doll from him as if it was a real boy.

Calling them both Brahms.

Saying hello and goodbye to both of them, complimenting both of them, acknowledging them. Seeing them as two in one. Instead of seeing the doll as some parasite.

Eventually Brahms behavior became more erratic more irrational. He was openly jealous, he always asked about other patients and what you’d talk about with them.

Angered how’d you actually talk about them in such a delightful manner.

Angered at how you had mostly male patients.

One day he took it to far, as you went to leave him stating “I’m off to another patient, have a nice rest of your day Brahms.” He flipped, the chains on his hands almost breaking as he tried to flip the table over it shaking as he used all his might eventually going so in the spam of little minutes.

He was punished, he wasn’t allowed to see you until Friday. So Monday-through-Friday he didn’t see you. He was driven crazy when you didn’t show up at the end of the week.

He began to get angry. Immediately he assumed you left him. How could you possibly love a murderous monster!? So foolish of him believing someone could actually love him.

You left him, without saying goodbye. Just like his mother and father and all the tiny bit off friends he had before he was locked away as a boy.

But he was going to promise you. “He’d be good, he will”

Jacob Goodnight

He didn’t see the evil in your eyes, you looked uncanny, you looked sweet.

You respected his beliefs and you never told him yours out of respect. You respected his mother.

You’d give him compliments about his different color eyes, about his height, about his cheeky smile.

You’d acknowledge how much he knew about his religion, you’d pray with him, even if it wasn’t something you believed in or was.

You’d compliment his Christ, you’d learn and admire.

Religious talks soon became random chats, you’d talk about random things Like God and the color of the sky.

You’d talk about your favorite colors, and help him figure out his.

Soon enough to your surprise he became obedient. Randomly, he’d do anything you’d say. Bow to your every wishes.

“Lift your left hand up and stick your pinky down.” You’d test the guards theory, and to your surprise he did exactly what you commanded.

He was obsessed. From the way you smelled to the way your hair was. Your eyes, your nose, your pointy ears.

He wasn’t exactly too bright to know your schedule. But he knew exactly what time you’d come.

He’d count, he’d create a rhythm. Just to know and remember.

One day after all that practice he finally learned his favorite color, and he was planning to tell you but it never came.

And days passed, and immediately he was angered. He’d attack everyone who tried to talk to him about you in a disrespectful way.

He’d pray for you to come back, and when that didn’t work he’d pray for you to be safe.

He couldn’t let you disappear without gods protection.

He’d repeat, “Dear Heavenly Father, Dear God. Please protect them, and if you wish bring them back to me.”

Disclaimer! I do not mean to be disrespectful of his religion I am a Christian myself! I just wanted to make it opt for people with other religions! <3

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bump1nthen1ght · 7 months

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A Very Monstrous Kinktober: Day 6 (Dub-Con)

Kink: Dubious Consent

Pairing: Merman x Fem!Reader

Other Kinks: Yandere, Creampie

Warnings: Mind Control (Siren's Song), Kidnapping, Aforementioned Dubious Consent

Word Count: 1011 Words

Kinktober Masterlist

Drake has been to many beautiful places in his life. He’s been amongst a pod of whales, new mothers and calves heading back to their home. He’s been up close with vast coral reefs, in between ancient sea turtles and giant pods of fish. He’s even swam through the crashing waves of a hurricane, enjoying the foam and turning water around him.

But right now, there's no place Drake would rather be than in between your legs.

Your thighs feel so plush against his lips, the skin almost like tissue paper against his sharp teeth. The urge to bite down is strong, to hear your gasps and taste the sweet blood that pulses underneath. But he doesn’t want your first time together to be a painful one, as much as he’d love to mark and claim all over your body. No, instead he just dives in and sucks at your cunt, delicious flavors exploding on his tongue. Just the scent makes his dick bulge against his sheath, aching from the lack of touch.

You moan so pretty when his tongue shoves deep inside you, prodding at your walls, his nose nuzzled into your clit. He pets at your hip, forcing himself to pull away from your pussy.

“How does that feel, love?”

“Feels…good.” You slur, voice heavy and delirious.

Drake looks up, wishing he could see your eyes at their normal color. Under the calming trance of his song, they’ve clouded over and lost all their shine. It’s a shame, but you had been putting up such a fight, resisting your body’s calling too much. Drake is sure with time you’ll accept his love, his partnership, and he can see those beautiful eyes while making love.

For now though, it's better you stay half-aware and submissive. Your pussy will stretch much easier, taking his larger merman-cock with more pleasure than pain. Its a mercy, really.

Speaking of, as delicious as your cunt is, Drake is impatient to be inside you. Grabbing onto the rock below, he pulls his heavy body and tail out of the water. His face now lines up with yours, allowing him to give gentle kisses to your cheek and neck. The song you're under doesn’t give you enough coordination to kiss back, but you still nuzzle into the affection anyway. So cute.

“I’m going to fuck you now, my darling. Is that okay?”

You nod, shoving your face into the crook of his heck, relishing in his soft skin.

“Yes…I want your cock.” Your voice is still slow, partially convinced of what you need. It's so adorable, Drake coos. It's a wonder he didn’t snatch you up sooner.

Drake arms tremble with excitement as he lines his cockhead up with your slit, your wet pussy feeling so good against it. Finally, finally he’s going to mate you, claim you, breed you. After longing and lusting for so long, Drake feels like he’s in Nirvana.

His moan echoes as he finally enters you, taking time to slowly fill you all the way to his base. His nails dig into the rock below, leaving white claw marks in their wake. When your walls clench around him, embracing the intrusion, his hips spasm and he fears he may come undone too soon. But Drake bites his lip, sucking in the blood he draws, and fights it. He’s waited so long. He must savor this.

Drakes uses one arm to throw your leg around his hip, using the leverage to begun thrusting his cock at a steady rhythm. He lets himself be wanton and loud with his moans, all alone in this secluded cave off the shore. Even your tiny whines and panting bounces off this wall, music to his ears.

“Goddesses, you feel divine.”

Drake keens, snapping his hips against yours. He can feel his tip hit the deepest spot inside you, chasing the way you tighten around him when he does. The slick sound of his scales against your ass reminds him of your tasty pussy juices, how he’ll get to drink them up every morning and every night now that he has you. His cock twitches inside you, dripping with his own pre cum. Maybe he’ll suck on your pussy after he climaxes, tasting the mix of your juices together, tasting the affirmation of your love. That makes his cock twitch even more.

Drake meets you in a passionate kiss, devouring all your little noises. His tongue forces its way inside, unbothered by your minimal effort in kissing him back.

Your nails dig into his back, leaving minimal damage. Drake relishes in the feeling.

“I’m close.” You whimper, eyes clenched shut.

“Yes, yes, cum on my cock.” Drake pants, eyes wild with passion. “I want to feel your love, I want to taste you.”

You whine as Drake pulls his shaft out to the tip, leaving you empty and on the edge for a tantalizing 3 seconds. He’s soaking in this view, your chest flushed with a blush, sweat beading down your neck. He wishes this could last forever

“Absolutely perfect.”

Before you can whine and beg for it, Drake shoves his cock deep inside you, finally chasing that high. Your legs wrap around the base of his tail and shake as your orgasm washes over you, milking his cock. His climax comes soon after, making sure to fill up your womb with his seed as he spends himself.

Even soft, the heat of your cunt feels perfect around him. But Drake knows he may crush you if he lays his whole body on top of yours, so he slips out and lays by your side. Cum drips out of your cunt, which Drake makes sure to finger back inside. Your eyes, still hazy, close shut as you rest against his side. Your breathing becomes steady, falling into a gentle sleep as your exhausted body comes off the high of his siren song. Drake strokes a hand alongside your cheek, so blessed to know that your visage will greet him every night from now on.

Yes, Absolutely Perfect

#my writing #reader insert #female reader insert #monster romance #kinktober 2023 #kinktober #merman x reader #merman

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thatfandomslut · 3 months

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Project Flowers

Gretchen Wieners x Reader

Word Count: 3k - I got very carried away with this one.

Trigger Warnings: insecurity, explicit language, tooth-rotting fluff

Request:

Hello, there! Do you write for Mean Girls? If so, I would like to request a Gretchen Wieners x reader fluff, please? Reader is new to school and has four brothers---the oldest used to date Regina. Regina and the brother, seeing Gretchen's growing crush on the reader, decides to play match-maker. One night, Regina convinces the reader to go with her to a "hang-out" where Gretchen is waiting with flowers.

Mean Girls requests are open.

"North Shore High is all about their cliques, which is why you're so lucky to have us." Lucas pulled on his varsity jacket, fixing his hair in the reflection of his car window. The action made (Y/n) roll her eyes with crossed arms as Michael slung his bag around his shoulders, nodding in agreement. As much as (Y/n) loved her brothers and begged to be able to attend public school, she was being reminded of how conceited and full of themselves her brothers truly were. It was the most amazing but unfortunate experience to have four older brothers while joining a new school where they were high on the social pyramid. "You will have to do a sport though. Maybe you'd like track?"

Daniel gently clapped his back to shut him up before gesturing towards the school. "Ready for your first day, (Y/n)? Sophomore year isn't all that bad. Plus, you're in AP English with James, so you'll at least have someone you know for a period." Daniel offered some comfort. He was the kinder of the four, Lucas being the more narcissistic of them. But she loved them all equally. "I think we all have to same lunch, too. So, hopefully, we'll see you then. Come on, guys, let's leave her be. Let's let her get some experience with normal school and get off her back." He tried to lead her brothers away.

"Don't talk to any of the horny douchebag boys here!" Called out Michael, pointing at her. Some passersby glanced her way, but she shrugged it off. She wasn't planning on talking to any boy if she could help it. If there was anything that her all-girls private school taught her, it was that girls were so much better. Still, she took heed of Michael's warning and attempted to steer clear of all of the boys who looked her over like she was a prize to be one throughout the hallway. Instead, she saw a different familiar face.

Regina George looked just as beautiful as she did when she last saw her. She had powerful red, pouty lips with eyeliner so sharp, it could cut someone. "(Y/n)," her voice cut through the hall, sounding more like a question as everyone stopped to see who she was talking to. Regina was never mean to her, and Regina's breakup with Lucas didn't end messy. Maybe that was because it was a summer fling, though. "I thought you went to North Shore All-Girls Academy?" She approached, two girls following her. One of the girls had dark brown hair with chocolate-colored eyes that had no thought behind them. The other girl, however; caused her breath to hitch in the back of her throat as she made eye contact with her. She had honey-blonde hair that fell in ringlets at the bottom of her hair, and her eyes were a soft amber.

"I wanted to come here with my brothers. It was a regretful idea saying as they want me to hang out with them during lunch." She hummed, a playful smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Regina wasn't one to hug anyone, so when she hugged (Y/n), everyone was caught off guard. (Y/n) hugged back happily as she allowed the blonde to give her a gentle squeeze pulling away. The other two girls behind Regina stared at her due to how out-of-character Regina was being. However, neither of them said nothing. "Plus, since Lucas was too dumb, I don't get to see you as much."

Regina flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder as she began leading (Y/n) and the other girls away from the ogling crowd. (Y/n) was in a state of awe at how popular Regina seemed to be. It threw her off guard in a way. "This is Karen Shetty and Gretchen Wieners," she introduced the two, grabbing the schedule from (Y/n)'s hand. She seemed to be showing her where to go, so (Y/n) didn't protest the snatch. "And don't worry about spending your lunch with your brothers, you can eat with us. This is your homeroom. Your next class is upstairs, turn right, third door." Regina said simply, passing the schedule back before stopping at a classroom. (Y/n) thanked her before entering the class, many other sophomores staring widely at her. She didn't understand why, still not getting the gravity that hanging out with Regina held on the student body.

Around lunchtime, (Y/n) wandered the halls, and headed towards the cafeteria. It wasn't too hard to find. There were too many signs indicating where it was. Before she could enter, Regina, Gretchen, and Karen found her first. "Hello, (Y/n)," Gretchen waved, smiling brightly. The smile caused a slight flutter in (Y/n)'s chest, heat rising to her ears as she waved back. Normally, Regina would comment on not having the first word, but she noticed how flustered both Gretchen and (Y/n) were acting with each other. So, she said nothing as they went to the lunch line. "So, the rules are, you can't wear a tank top two days in a row, you can only wear a ponytail once a week, jeans and track pants can only be worn on Fridays, and on Wednesdays we wear pink. You have to follow these rules, or you're not allowed to sit with us." Gretchen told (Y/n) as she sat beside her. (Y/n) nodded at her words, Regina still eyeing them closely.

"I got you, then. Those rules aren't too hard to follow. Maybe I can get your number so you can remind me to wear pink on Wednesday?" (Y/n) asked, causing Gretchen to clumsily pull out her phone so they could exchange numbers. Regina smirked slightly, realizing how smooth it was (Y/n). After all, she had Regina's number, she could always have asked her to remind her. She had a feeling by all of Gretchen's questions on the way to homeroom, that it was because the girl was interested in her ex's little sister. "Thanks, I'll just text you tonight to make sure I got the rules down, if you don't mind."

Gretchen shook her head kindly, hoping her hair could hide the blush forming on her cheeks. At this final display, Regina stood up, causing Karen, Gretchen, and (Y/n) to look her way. "I'm going to go get cheese fries." She excused herself before finding Lucas and pulling him into the lunch line with her. "Your sister is flirting with my friend," Regina said, causing Lucas's eyes to practically bulge out of his head as he stared at her for a long moment. "I think they'd be cute together. You're going to help me get them together by Spring Fling, at least." Regina stated, and Lucas could only nod. He knew not to defy Regina, he was smarter than that. And that is how Project Flowers commenced. It was an opportunity, that through time would help Gretchen and (Y/n) get together. Because Regina knew them both, and she knew that they were going to need help. Specifically, they needed Regina's help.

Regina allowed herself a few of weeks in order to let the two develop their relationship as friends before dropping hints to the girls that they liked each other, or she would mention different outfits she knew the other would like. "You know Gretchen, that one crop top you wore to the mall when we took Cady shopping, I overheard (Y/n) telling Karen how good you looked in it." Regina would say as she talked to Gretchen. "(Y/n), Gretchen absolutely adores your smile." She would say to (Y/n). But she was getting relentless with the responses of 'Are you sure?' Of course, she was sure. She was never wrong about anything, and she was not wrong about their feelings. Lucas also played his part, telling Gretchen little things that (Y/n) enjoyed. He would also tell (Y/n) about how he and Regina were talking about things Gretchen liked. Which always confused (Y/n) on why they brought Gretchen up, but she ignored this fact and got everything that was mentioned for Gretchen.

She was getting annoyed at all the gushing and blushing that (Y/n) and Gretchen did with each other. Their inadvertent flirting and their obliviousness killed Regina. It almost made her want to throw up in annoyance. But what was worse was the fact that they would do little things, like touch the other's hand, and then they'd pull away from each other quickly. It made Regina want to take their hands and force their fingers to intertwine together. She never thought she'd care about a relationship other then her own until she saw how disgusting in love her friends were getting for each other.

"Here's the plan, Lucas, listen up. I know you have trouble listening, so please put your listening ears on." Regina spoke to him like a child, but he didn't mind. Instead, he just listened to the blonde as he sat at a desk in the empty classroom they were in. Shane was trailing after Regina like a lost puppy but had no clue what was going on. "Tonight, I'm going to talk to Gretchen, and you need to talk to (Y/n). Then, I am going to ask her to hang out, but I am not going to be there. It's going to be Gretchen. Understood? So, somehow find out what kind of flowers she likes. For Gretchen, of course."

Lucas nodded briefly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Glancing over at Shane, he raised his brows momentarily. "Okay, sounds good." He stood up, getting ready to leave. After all, he was his siblings' ride, and they would get suspicious if he was any later to leave for the car. Still, he stopped before exiting. "Hey, Regina… You doing this for Gretchen and (Y/n)… It's nice to see you have a heart. But, also, just so you know, you deserve love, too. You and I both know Aaron and Shane are phases. Sorry, Shane." Regina narrowed her eyes at him as he smirked playfully before leaving. He knew she could kill him with that stare. However, he knew that Regina deserved love, too, and he saw the way she looked at Cady.

"Where were you?" (Y/n) questioned, still leaning on the car. Her question was directed at Lucas, but her eyes were on Gretchen talking animatedly to Karen in the distance. The ghost of a smile played on her lips and Daniel nudged her shoulder to let her know they were piling in. Since she was the shortest, she was required to sit in the middle so Lucas could see out of the back windshield. Forgetting her question, and forgetting that it never got answered, she got in. A small part of her wanted to look back at Gretchen, but she forced herself to get in and ignore that feeling of want that settled in the pit of her stomach. Especially because she knew Gretchen would never like her that way. Still, she got out her phone to send a quick text to the girl.

As they drove, Lucas looked back at (Y/n) using the mirror, who was still texting. The smile on her face let him know who she was talking to. Then, he remembered he needed to know her favorite flower. The good thing was that (Y/n) was in the social reject group of band nerds. How Regina ever let that slide was beyond Lucas. However, she had a concert that weekend and it was the perfect excuse to ask her what flowers she would like. "Hey, (Y/n), for your band concert this weekend," he got her attention, her eyes flickering up to look at him, even if his eyes were currently on the road. "What kind of flowers would you like us to bring you?" He inquired, delivering a quick glance before looking back at the road.

All of the boys, excluding Lucas, were now looking at (Y/n)- they were very supportive. Still, all of the eyes on her made her nervous. "Well, it's going to sound basic, but my favorite flowers are pink roses. So, I guess, if you all were to bring flowers, I would want those." She answered, hoping this would get their attention off of her. For one of the Plastics, she didn't like all of the attention. Not even from family. But that probably came with being the youngest girl in a family of four older brothers. There was constantly so much attention on her, that it was sometimes suffocating. With that said, when it came to Gretchen's attention, she wanted it. She wanted Gretchen to look at her. She loved it when Gretchen smiled at her. It was like she was Ken in the new Barbie movie.

A text pinged on her phone and she looked down, hoping it was from Gretchen, but instead, she saw it was from Regina. 'Hey, loser <3, meet me at the park at 7,' it read. Typing a quick confirmation, she got ready but before she could, she was stopped by Lucas who had a suspiciously caring smile on her face. She knew a big talk was coming and she dreaded getting elder brother advice from Lucas of all her older brothers.

"I just wanted to talk to you about Gretchen. I know, because I see how you look at her, and how you look at yourself, that you don't feel good enough." He said, causing surprise to grow on her face. How he knew how she was feeling was beyond her. But maybe she sold him out short. Maybe he did pay attention to more than just himself. "You are good enough for Gretchen. You are so kind and caring, (Y/n). And I can see it in Gretchen's face that she sees that in you. You need to go for it. You've got this."

A smile fell on her face as she embraced her brother. "Thank you," she whispered as he hugged back. He left her room as she changed into something more comfortable but still within Plastics standards. As she got ready for the park, she texted Gretchen and asked if she'd be at the park, too. After waiting a few moments, she tried not to pout at the lack of response before grabbing a jacket and making her way over to meet Regina. Maybe it was just a hangout with only Regina. She felt guilty all of a sudden, hoping she didn't make Gretchen feel left out. Then the overthinking came in, and she wondered if she should even go. On the other hand, Regina would be pissed if she didn't make it. Even if she was kinder to (Y/n) than most people, it didn't make her immune to Regina's quips now and again.

Making her way through the park, she was surprised to see Gretchen at the tree. Squinting slightly, (Y/n) could see that she was holding something. Looking around, she noticed that there was no sign of Regina, so she decided to make her way over. "Hey, Gretchen," she greeted, startling the honey-blonde girl. She finally noticed that in Gretchen's hands were her favorite flowers, and she was starting to realize what was going on. She was tricked into coming here to meet Gretchen by Regina and her brother. Her brother wasn't asking about the rose for the concert- though her brothers would still get her flowers. And Regina staged the hangout, and she must've convinced Gretchen to come out here.

"(Y/n), hey! I was waiting for you." Gretchen bit her lip nervously, extending the roses over to (Y/n). (Y/n) blinked before smiling slowly. Looking up at Gretchen with a wide smile, she started to see the confidence starting to circulate in her amber eyes. "I've been wanting to talk to you about something. So, Regina told me to meet you here and to tell you. So I'm going to go for it." Gretchen gave herself a moment, breathing in. (Y/n) wanted to kiss her right then and there, but she also wanted to hear what she wanted to say. "I really like you. You are so caring and kind. You're funny, smart, and creative. You mean everything to me, and I really want to go on a date with you. We could get coffee or boba together. But also, I really want to be your girlfriend."

(Y/n) gently took a step forward, and with one hand (the other was still clutching the flowers), she pulled Gretchen in. The two girls looked at each other for a moment before Gretchen nodded and (Y/n) completed the distance between them. Kissing her deeply, she felt Gretchen's hands cup the back of her neck. Everything felt complete, and (Y/n) had to stop smiling in the kiss. "I really want to be your girlfriend, too, Gretchen." (Y/n) whispered on her lips, causing Gretchen to kiss her again happily.

"About time," Regina said with her arms crossed, standing next to Lucas, who was looking away respectfully. He obviously didn't want to intrude on his little sister's first kiss. "I thought by the time you two got the balls to ask each other out, we'd be in an elderly home," Regina stated with a quick wink, the other two girls red in the face. "I hope you two have a good time at your picnic. Never say I didn't do something for you. Lucas, the basket, let's go."

The words confused the girls until they noticed Lucas holding the picnic basket in his hands, passing it to his sister. (Y/n) smiled shyly, thanking him before Regina and Lucas went their separate ways. Gretchen and (Y/n) laughed for a moment before going through the basket to find a mix of their favorite snacks. Setting up the area, the two stayed out until the night fell, creating their constellation, their hands connecting them like stars in the night sky, (Y/n) looked over at Gretchen, smiling when she turned over, too. (Y/n) noted in her mind that Gretchen was prettier than all the stars before placing a gentle kiss on Gretchen's lips, Gretchen reciprocating gently. Nothing could ever ruin this moment, (Y/n) decided as she pulled away, smiling widely at the girl. Gretchen turned her head once more and (Y/n) did, too, as they continued to stargaze.

#gretchen wieners x reader #gretchen wieners #mean girls x reader #mean girls

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eightyonekilograms · 2 months

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I went to the Apple Store yesterday to try the scripted demo of their VR headset. My overall impression is that it's the best possible execution of what might be a fundamentally flawed idea.

The passthrough video is pretty incredible. It's somewhat dimmer than reality, and the color accuracy is just OK, but it's more than good enough to feel like you're looking through clear displays at the real world. I'm told the passthrough on the Quest 3 is even better, but haven't tried that and can't comment. One thing is that there is a weird motion blur effect when you turn your head, I'm not sure if that's a display tech limitation or introduced deliberately by the software as a workaround for a different display tech limitation.

The resolution is 4K per eye, which, as mentioned, is more than enough for a powerful sense of presence in the real world. One of the nifty bits of the demo was when you turn the dial to tune out the world and suddenly you're sitting by a mountain lake, and the feeling of actually being there is overwhelming. The dystopian implications of needing a VR headset to sit at a mountain lake aside, it would be cool to have one just to have your office be anywhere you can imagine. Not $3500-before-tax cool, but cool.

Wow sports leagues are going to love this thing. I don't give a shit about sports and even I was thinking, "If the NBA put a stereoscopic camera courtside and sold you games for $50 a pop, I'd absolutely buy that"

But 4K per eye is not enough to do work, not even close. The experience of using normal computer-y applications on this was not unlike plugging your laptop in to a TV that's at the normal TV distance. You can do it, it works, but it's not anyone's preferred way of working. Text is amazingly legible, but only at sizes that are equivalent to having a single webpage take up your entire 4K monitor at normal monitor distance.

It is not particularly comfortable. Part of this might be that the store demo makes you use the "catcher's mitt" strap, which only goes around the back of your head and so gravity has to be countered only by the pressure of the thing against your face. Reviewers have said that if you use the other band that goes over your head the situation is better, but still.

A lot of early comments were making fun of Apple for having the battery be an external thing you put in your pocket and attach with a wire, but I think that's just fine: we all walk around with giant batteries in our pockets anyway, and anything you can do to have less weight on your head is a Good Thing. But then Apple took all those weight savings and spent them on making the stupid thing out of metal and glass instead of polycarbonate. It's nuts! It's like if you made a car that was 500kg lighter because you invented magical tech for keeping the engine somewhere else, and then went "great! with all the weight savings now we can build the body out of lead". Apple, you don't need to fear plastic. Plastic is good! Plastic built modern civilization.

You control it with a combination of eye tracking and pinch gestures. This is the main piece of evidence of my "best version of a bad idea" thesis: it works really, really well; so well that I can tell this is probably an evolutionary dead end. It's just fine— miraculous, even— for dragging windows around and doing the basic stuff the in-store demo has you do. It's amazing that you can more or less have your hands anywhere, including on your lap, and the recognition works perfectly (by contrast with the HoloLens I tried 5 or so years ago where the gesture recognition was total crap). But it's immediately obvious that you can never do serious manipulation of your computing environment with this.

The takeaway is that it's incredible for passive consumption of specifically-made media, assuming that ever exists at scale. But it will be a long time before we're gogged in like Hiro Protagonist to do our office jobs this way.

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teecupangel · 2 months

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Colossal Squid! Desmond and I'll give you my bones

“Have you heard the legends of the Kraken, Shay?”

“Every sailor has.” Shay answered politely, glancing at their guest.

Even as bitter wind gripped its claws at them, Haytham Kenway looked as prim and proper as a gentleman on his way to watch an opera.

Shay, on the other hand, had pulled the fabric around his neck up to cover his freezing nose.

“And do the stories tell of the Kraken a monster that destroys without any care of one’s status or upbringing?”

“The sea is a cruel mistress to all, Master Kenway.” Shay answered, glancing to his right. Gist just shrugged, obviously also a bit confused to why Haytham Kenway was talking about the Kraken all of a sudden.

“Yes, she is.” Haytham agreed as he walked towards the bow of the ship, “But the Kraken is not cruel.”

“He is playful and intelligent. He also has the habit of trying to show his displeasure using his limbs.” Haytham continued, making the other crew members stare at him, forgetting their tasks as they listened to a man who sounded like he knew the Kraken himself, “But above all else…”

“He is one ugly squid.” Haytham commented.

They would have laughed at that but the waters beneath them grew dark almost immediately.

Large tentacles rose from the depths and the crew shouted in fear and surprise.

Shay immediately ordered them to main the cannons but stopped when Haytham said, “It is no use. Human weaponry does not work on him.”

Shay froze, noticing that what he had thought to have been sunlight against the tentacles was actually…

Glowing lines that reminded Shay of the light of that device back in Lisbon.

For a brief moment, Shay was paralyzed, the fear and pain of that day flashing before him.

Haytham was still speaking and Shay tried to focus on his voice.

Haytham wasn’t there in Lisbon.

Shay wasn’t there in Lisbon anymore.

Haytham was his anchor to the present.

“The Kraken is what those who know nothing call him. The Templars though… had a different name for him.” Haytham continued calmly, as if the ship had not been kept in place by tentacles coiling all around it. There was no creaking sound and that only made Shay more frightened.

The Kraken knew how to control its strength so it wouldn’t damage the ship, only keep it immobilized.

That kind of intelligence…

“Desmond.”

Shay frowned.

Where have he heard the name before?

“The sea monster that Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad tamed. The ruler of the seas that cares for the Assassin Brotherhood.”

That’s right.

Shay heard Adéwalé talked about a ‘Desmond’ before. Shay had thought it was some kind of pet because Adéwalé talked about how it followed his old friend whenever he sailed.

One of the tentacles reach out towards Haytham and Shay shouted, “Master Kenway!”

Haytham raised a hand, stopping Shay from unsheathing his dual blades.

“Do not move, do not speak, do not even think.” Haytham ordered calmly, “He is here for me.”

“Will this be the day you drag me into the depths, Desmond?” Haytham asked, a slight curiosity in his tone, “Or will you still prolong this dance we share?”

The tentacle wrapped around his neck but, with how big the tentacle was, it wrapped his entire upper body instead.

Haytham didn’t seem worried, looking at the sea below as he stood at the very tip of the bow, “Well?”

Shay and the rest of the crew could only stare, frozen by fear and confusion, as Haytham was slowly lifted.

… before he was placed in the center of the ship. The tentacles uncoil around him slowly. There was a pause before it flicked Haytham’s hat off and Haytham simply gave a tired sigh.

The tentacles let go of the ship and returned to the depths of the sea.

It took a few seconds before the water returned to its normal color.

The entire crew gave out a relieved sigh as many of them fell on their asses.

“Master Kenway, what was that?” Shay asked and all of them turned to stare at the mysterious man as he picked up his hat.

“That was Desmond.” Haytham said as if he was just introducing a family friend he didn’t get along with, “The Sea Scourge of the Templars. He attacks every ship that shows its Templar affiliation. He won’t attack this ship though.”

“It won’t?” Shay couldn’t stop himself from sounding skeptical.

“As long as I sail with you, he will not.” Haytham said.

“Why?”

“Because that squid still believes I am my father’s son.”

#desmond is turned into an animal subgenre #desmond is turned into a creature subgenre #look it was either this #or this is going to turn into a squidja situation #assassin's creed #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #desmond miles #haytham kenway #shay cormac #ngl i just wanted to write haytham and shay #i've been writing edward for most marine desmond asks XD

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