sometimes i see somebody say an actor is ugly and i can't help but wonder if that person has ever been on a bus
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sorry but so many fandoms are so so obsessed with making masc presenting fictional characters twinks. and it makes me so upset because. ok. you have this wonderful character with amazing depth and etc etc and you just make them into a stupid little silly dumb dumb? the fuck. and why are you making them skinny and white ontop of that (when they arent already). my thoughts are very scattered about this i need some time to properly word it
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"He'd have sooo many OCD completely sensible and rational luck and fortune rituals" hmm. Was that just for the theatre kid post, or does Belos read as OCD in your eyes? This is a small, silly ask. I'm curious tho.
this isn't something i have a lot of very firm or detailed feelings about, but yeah, he strikes me as the kind of person who ends up developing a lot of just very bizarre obsessive thought patterns and behaviors and compulsive rituals in many areas of his life as a trauma response
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I think Myers Brigg is an incredibly flawed framework that is basically only useful as a thinking tool. Plus it’s just like. Yeah if you measure a bunch of stuff you can divide people into groups, but this doesn’t necessarily reflect any sort of meaningful groupings in nature. It’s just an artificial way of categorising people that is mostly only useful in getting people to think about their own strengths/weaknesses and appreciate that not everyone functions the way they do.
However I can still think “wow I am the most specialist rarest boy ever” when I am consistently only ever INTJ or INFJ
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i know it's been a while since the posts, but i'd like to say i love your cotl headcanon about sozo not being an ant. are you okay with others adopting the headcanon too, or would you prefer they don't?
Thank youu! And don't worry, even if they're old posts I'm still quite into CotL atm!
And you can absolutely go ahead and adopt it! I think I don't even have any right to gatekeep such an headcanon since I did see quite a few people with their own spider/tarantula!Sozo (I especially remember a black widow one). Plus headcanons are more fun when they spread around the fandom and others have their own go at them-! ^^
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anyone with an aesthetic tag is feeding me personally because i WILL dive into it and eat the images with my eyes
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GOD LOUISE REGAILIA MAKES ME SO FUCKING INSANE EVERY TIME I THINK ABOUT HER I FEEL LIKE IM GOING TO EXPLODE INTO A MILLION LITTLE PIECES. ITS JJUST LIKE. girls when they havce to kill their former selves in order to survive. girls when the self they take up in turn is constantly destroyed and remade in order to never be attached to one life. girls when the only way they know how to save themself is to lock themself away. girls when they’ve forsaken their home and in turn been forsaken by it. girls when theyre both the abandoner and the abandoned. girls when they think theyre the most sane completely normal one hundred percent hinged person in the world. girls when they already know they didn’t deserve what they went through but can’t imagine a world in which they can heal from it. girls when they won’t let themselves heal because they don’t know who they are without their hurt. because they killed that girl. and theyll keep killing her forever and ever and ever and pretend thats the same as healing her.
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i’m so totally normal about the fact that aziraphale’s last (known) deliberate foray into the queer community was when he learned the gavotte at the fictionalized hundred guineas club (!!!) in the 1800s and now in the 2020s he’s like “grindr? what’s that?”
many are talking about his repression which is very valid… and yet the thing to me that stands out about aziraphale is that he’s actually… incredibly stable in his identity and that identity IS incredibly queer. queer by the standards of heaven AND by human standards as well
metatron describes his “de facto partnership” with crowley as “irregular.” and in fact aziraphale in his entirety is irregular. he likes and makes it his business not only to understand but to be a connoisseur of all manner of things angels aren’t supposed to even remotely care about. food. music. books. theatre. sleight of hand. and more.
it’s the sort of behavior that would’ve gotten him othered, treated as a bit odd, in heaven even if he hadn’t chosen to consort all across the earth with a literal demon. and it IS treated that way - the fact is aziraphale even as an angel has got proclivities that set him apart from the rest of the host (even after offering him the highest position in heaven, metatron still acts deeply dismissive of him… like aziraphale’s bookshop is merely a quaint little hobby of his that can be easily transferred to another custodian, and not a literal extension of who aziraphale has become, full of his tartan and unique bibles and special vintages of wine and the books arranged in a very specific way)
so. aziraphale is a queer angel but of course he’s also queer to other humans. but in such a way that… he had his realization a LONG time ago, and put the matter very much to rest after that. aziraphale is perpetually something like several centuries behind schedule. he owns an ancient computer that probably continues to run windows 98 simply because aziraphale’s decided it should. he wears the same waistcoat and coat for generations because he simply likes them precisely the way they are and sees no reason to change them. but the idea that he doesn’t know how he comes across to others - of course he does. he knows he looks like your prim and proper grandfather and he prefers it that way
aziraphale looked around at humans in the 1880s and said: ah yes. this is where i fit. and promptly ensconced himself in that queer subculture. learned the gavotte. read his austen. loved crowley from afar. aziraphale is fiercely and vibrantly queer. just with the sort of assurance of someone who lives with his lover in a commonlaw marriage for decades and then shows up at city hall for the certificate once society decides it’s ‘allowed.’ like… he hasn’t had any need to know what grindr is because aziraphale’s ‘scene’ was a century and a half ago and it defined romance for him too.
but my favorite thing about aziraphale is how much of him is about appearances versus the truth. he can lie straight to angels’ faces and sleep at night. he knows he comes off soft but he once wielded a flaming sword. he dissembles helplessness but he’s far from it and he knows precisely how it makes others treat him. and at the core of aziraphale is rigidity, inflexibility of ideas… his sense of self is stable where crowley’s is malleable, and so on, and so on
and the fact that he’s continuously fixated on trying to misguidedly do the right thing, the fact that he seeks heavenly approval and wants to fit the world into his schema of good vs evil… in no way do i think that means he isn’t one hundred percent aware of how he feels about crowley or what it means about him by angelic or human standards. i’ve seen some folks saying that aziraphale doesn’t want to like kissing crowley and like… as much as i love me some brideshead revisited/atonement flavored angst; i put forth that it’s not internalized homophobia or queer panic but simply: “i’m trying to do the right thing for both of us and you won’t let me.” and “i wanted our first kiss to be different.” he was envisioning an entirely different flavor of romance than what he got but he emma woodhoused too close to the sun
like, y’all. aziraphale in all likelihood has a glorious collection of historical queer erotica. he just has a feathery diva coat hanging in his closet, and for what. “oh, good lord” he says at crowley’s revolutionary outfit in the bastille, while eyeing him up like an entire meal. he’s so good at affected propriety, at carefully constructed stuffiness, but between the two of them aziraphale’s got to be the one who has experience
aziraphale had been physically throwing himself at crowley the entire season. he orchestrated an entire regency ball so they could touch hand to hand. he spends the entire season (well, and season 1) looking at crowley like he’s particularly coveted. he looked at crowley before the fall like he was glorious and beautiful. aziraphale’s queer and he knows it and i think that isn’t his problem, it’s the fact that he wants to build a different sort of future for the two of them but crowley’s gone and thrown a wrench in it by reminding him of everything he can finally have. like. that’s the heartbreak. it’s how dare you make this ugly? i forgive you for our first kiss being all pain and salt. it’s my dearest, i wanted to make heaven as beautiful as you deserve. as sacred and safe for us as our bookshop. and i can do that for us, because once i held a flaming sword and i still remember how the hilt felt in my hands. and now the taste of you is in my mouth.
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yandere!Alastor with gender-neutral!tinkerer!reader headcanons
Warning: obsessive behavior, implied violence, stalking, implied manipulation, and knowledge based on the 2019 pilot episode.
There may be possible triggers in this story.
If you do not feel comfortable venturing any further, please hit the 'back' button on your device or computer and read something much more pleasant than a possible series of unfortunate events.
You are responsible for your own Internet consumption!
If you would like to read the SFW version of these headcanons, there are some written by @isuckatwritingsobenice. I will leave the link to them here.
Special thanks to @isuckatwritingsobenice, @angelltheninth, and @ceoofdabicorpsensfw for providing feedback and helping me shape up these headcanons into what they are today, my first Hazbin Hotel fic in quite a long time!
If you would like to me to keep up the momentum and write more for Hazbin Hotel or Helluva Boss, please let me know via a request or in the comments section below!
With that being said, sit back, relax, and enjoy the show! :)
Alastor is someone who thrives on entertainment. Seeing the scourge of Hell striving to redeem themselves in Charlie’s hotel, only to fail as soon as they gave into the vices they’ve been trying to cure themselves of? That’s the only reason he agreed to help the princess with her passion project. He needed some inspiration after lacking it for so many decades!
He will not fall for someone who is naive and oblivious to the dangers that lurk around every corner. His preference for a darling is someone who is intelligent, yet malleable to his manipulative machinations, though he would call it being a considerable gentleman.
So, imagine his surprise when you, the maintenance operator Charlie had hired during the hotel’s open house after being thoroughly impressed with your resume, piqued his interest. He had heard that you were very good at repairing broken things. Whatever it was that needed to be fixed, you could do it efficiently and with a smile.
The only thing you would not touch, however, were Angel’s sex toys. He found you at Husk’s bar, whining and clutching what looked like a purple cucumber with a white handle, coated in….an unknown substance. You looked at it, then back at Angel, confused and blinking owlishly at him. You asked him to hold it up in the light so you could see it, just don’t let it touch you because…well, you really did not want to.
The adult film star did, and you tilted your head to the side, staring at it for a moment before pulling away.
“It should be an easy fix.” You said. “Do you think it is a higher priority than preventing the hotel from being flooded with water?” You asked, glancing up at him. The genuinity in your voice as you spoke to him, curious and asking if fixing his device is really more important at the moment, made Alastor chuckle from the shadows. Dear ol’ Husker looked like he was about to keel over from laughter too~!
“If it’s an easy fix like ya say it is, then yes!” Angel whined. “I need it fixed by tomorrow! Can ya maybe work on it, like, after you make sure this place doesn’t get flooded?”
You blinked. “That shouldn’t be an issue. Okay. Did you try looking for the manual in the box it came in?”
“There’s a manual for it in there?!”
You nodded. “There should be. Or at least a phone number for customer service.”
Oh, such dialogue between two unique characters brightened Alastor’s mundane afternoon considerably and deepened his interest in the ever diligent and mild-mannered sinner who never seemed to stop working!
He watched you from the shadows, learning about your likes and dislikes and your….relationships with the others, clients and hotel staff alike. None of which, as he has seen, never went beyond the boundary of polite professionalism. Imagine his surprise when his shadow discovered your daily ritual to lock yourself in the maintenance office and curl up on the couch in there for an hour nap, and how you cannot sleep without the vintage radio on your desk being played on low volume. As much as he wanted to sweep you off of your feet with a night around the city and a lovely candlelit dinner, Alastor could not act too recklessly. That wasn’t how his mother raised him. No, no, no, he was a gentleman!
And a gentleman knows how to bide his time in the art of courting. Expect him to flood your office with bouquets, expensive gifts, and a request to personally fix his microphone even when it was working just perfectly.
Who knows? Perhaps while you’re sleeping soundly, in your office or in your bedroom, he will turn the knob of your radio just a little to the left so it is the music of his radio station that fills the silence. Think of it as….insurance. With the magic he possessed as an overlord, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to comprehend that he did care about you in his own way. And he would like to think you will, in time, come to enjoy his music with a smile.
After all, you’re never fully dressed without one!
Bonus Content
If you accept his courtship, Alastor’s possessiveness will reach to the point where he will absolutely insist that you should move into his quarters and share the bed. For his peace of mind and your own protection.
After all, you’re his precious little doe. He wouldn’t want anything to happen to you in this cesspool~.
Taglist
@angelltheninth
@isuckatwritingsobenice
@selineram3421
@vikkirosko
@nixie-writes
@thatstonedwriter
@lbcreations-blog
@aurora-rose-miller
@yosemitecleo
@doc-tooth
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You’re hiding in your Hiding Place — Bakugou Katsuki’s bicep 💪
In your later years at UA, Bakugou Katsuki ends up with an —unusual reputation within class A.
He’s got a notoriously famous mean streak, but in 1-A he’s also got a reputation for having a strangely nutty tough-love aura about him — which makes him a decently good person to come run to when things go wrong. Naturally, not anyone’s top pick or anything, but a good one for when you need cry your heart out, or something. And, Bakugou usually knows, which is why he’s not all too surprised when you plow into his midsection in the middle of the hall.
He’s headed upstairs from a later dinner because of his internship when he sees you. You’re coming straight from the dormitory showers, a chrous of familiar caterwauling floating out from the boys side. That’s why he took his showers in the morning, if he could help it, because at least Iida didn’t attempt to sing.
You look soft and malleable stepping out from the bathroom. An old tye-dye shirt boasting participation of some kind of annual charity run and a pair of sweatpants on. The cuff at you ankles revealing your — now, slightly pink house slippers due to a washing mishap that happened last week in the dorms with a certain Shitty-Hair’ed guy and his red-themed hero costume. Your arms and face are dewy with what he presumes is that moisturizer that all you girls like to lather up in daily — and your hair is still on the verge of wet and stringy, but also frizzy and fuck, you look so very tired and soft right now.
Katsuki pauses, red eyes squinting at your face; your nose is pink and your face is dewy, but those aren’t fingerprints left in the wake of moisturizer — it’s old tears that’s streaked over it.
He huffs from his nose, nostrils flaring before he takes his hands out of his pockets and flexes his fingers at you where they hang by the side of his hips. And it’s then that he sees your shoulders slacken slightly before you’re suddenly pressed up against his front. All causal and warm — pressed as far into his abdomen as you can get, and he can feel your boobs smush against his chest because you’re very clearly not wearing a bra — and also because he’s earned a reputation for being a decent fucking human and for being nonchalant about that stuff. Bakugou is one of three guys in the dorm you guys deem trustworthy and reasonable enough to do that with. (The other two being Shouji and Todoroki.) And thus, he’s been grappled into many squishy-boob hugs by all you shitty girls.
And your cheek is pressed against the hard plain of muscle that is his chest and your arms are wrapped around him — just under his shoulder blades in an action that lifts him and pulls Bakugou in towards you just a little bit. Your fingertips pressing into the muscle on his back and he hopes you don’t feel the way his heart is lub-dubbing inside his chest at the action.
And suddenly Bakugou pulls you closer to him. A bicep circling protectively beside your chin, as a big palm comes to rest atop your damp hair. His other arm squeezing around your mid-section like a python and it’s a good thing too because as soon as he puts his arms around you Bakugou can feel that strength seeping from you and it feels like he’s holding you together. And that’s when the sniffles start.
“I’m so pathetic,” you whine. “As soon as you put your arms around me I felt my knees buckle.” And you’re pressed so close Bakugou can feel the way your lips move to form the words right against his chest.
And instead of Bakugou saying anything mildly helpful in this situation his says, “I have that effect.”
With a slight shrug that brings the top of your head pressing against his jaw, which might just be him engulfing and cradling you completely, but who knows?
And Bakugou has no fucking idea why he said that. Or how he managed to say something so flirtatiously cringy with such calm, but all you do is attempt to shake your head against his hold and mumble, “yeah, that makes sense. I’ve seen the other girls around school.” Which you punctuate with a snort, an arm moving from his back to swipe at your face.
Bakugou has no idea where this is going — except for you to start “hilariously deflecting” from whatever problem is at hand. “There’s this one girl,” you start with a breath, “she’s always hanging around the hallway between classes. She’s definitely trying to catch you at your locker, but she always just ends up next to mine and Momo’s — saying something random before running off. She’s definitely into you.” You look up at him, still completely weak in his hold and Bakugou scrunches his nose at you. An action that you find looks unnatural and awkward on the sharp features of his face.
You frown, hoarsely laughing, “Stop that.” About his facial expression. Bakugou can’t imagine any girls wanting to be with him. Surely he’s a terrible catch at a boyfriend.
He face curls into a snarling scoff, “Nope. Can’t see it. You must be imaging things.” He declares forcefully pressing your head back into the cocoon of him. He settles his head back on top of yours and you’re now squirming like a damn worm.
And you find some strength as you manage to peek your face out and blink at him with furrowed brows. And maybe it’s cause you’re in a vulnerable state with a good friend and maybe it’s because you’ve been harboring a little bit of a recent crush on the boy, but you blurt out, “You’re a catch. You know that, right?”
And again his stupidly handsome face scrunches into that weird shape again before his red eyes are staring into yours. The hand on your back clutches at your shirt fabric before he says, “You really think that? You’re not just fucking with me?”
You snort, wiping a few more stray tears from an entirely different problem than the internal one that the blonde is currently having.
“Yeah I really think that, Bakugou.”
And there’s a little quip on the side of his mouth that might count as a Bakugou smile, but it’s gone before you can tease him about it. The explosive murder god boy being unsure about his status as attractive is entirely too precious and far too laughable a situation — which is probably why your aggressively smooshed back into his chest and why he starts waddling side to side. For some damn reason the gently rocking from foot-to-foot placebo affects you into crying it all out. Some remnant of being a baby you suppose, but it’s still annoying how Bakugou’s managed to peg it on you so easily.
And you’re damn right Bakugou’s doing it on purpose because you very clearly have a problem of your own or you wouldn’t be clutching onto him for dear life like you are right now. And despite this revelation that Kirishima may be right in the fact that’s he’s attractive he’s still whirling at the thought that you think he’s a catch. Because you’re the only girl he’d probably ever want thinking that — but Bakugou tucks that piece of knowledge into the back of his brain when Momo comes out of the showers next. A giant frilly nightgown on as she scampers over — talking and whispering to you gently from within your little hiddie-hole formed by his curled bicep and forearm. And he just huffs, and continues to cocoon you in his embrace rocking back and forth like a damn rocking-chair as you rattle off whatever’s been on your mind.
What’s on his mind is for another day . . .
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୨・┈﹕✦﹕ Kinktober Day 21﹕✦﹕┈・୧
-> Event Masterlist
Neuvillette x F!Reader -> Ruts
the spring time of the year is much anticipated, it’s a lovely weather to have. a lovely season to fall in love with nature, and a lovely season to be shown just how desperate neuvillette can truly get for you. it’s the way he starts to come home early, it’s the slow intricate details that slowly emerge from your partner. he’s more possessive, easily jealous, eyes your outfits more, puts on his perfume on you before leaving for work, until finally… the hydro soverign’s most intimate, and stressful event commences. the rut, you’d find him going through a phase where he wants to create a nest for his pet, his little mate. you’d need everything you have. water, food, clothes. yet it’s somehow so cozy, you can’t help but awe at it. oh, and also — don’t put things here and there. neuvillette isn’t one for rage but he’d pout if you do so. do it at your own risk. ;)
now that you know what’s happening — its easier to guess that this predicament wouldn’t end until neuvillette’s satisfied with you. “god- you feel so good, i’ll breed you into the malleable little mate i have.” he groaned, thrusting deep into your puckering hole as you moaned for him, ecstatic under the feeling of his ridged cock taming you. a beautiful white ring forming alongside the base of it as he churns the mixture of yours and his essence for the third time.
“can- can’t take it- s’ too much, neuv,” you whimper out as your womb physically stops him from rutting & railing further, your knees shoved beside your ears as both his hands gripped them bruisingly. “you will, you are doing so good, my fragile little thing.” neuvillette praises you, leaning in and suckling onto your already bruised tits & marked skin. “you look so delectable like this, meant to be one with me.” neuvillette is exceptionally vocal today, moaning, groaning & saying words that are a mixture of utter sin & comfort.
“but i’m nowhere near done to loving you — angelic being.” neuvillette looks at you with tender eyes, spilling his load deep inside you as his precise movements of tenderness roam around your puffy clit, pushing you off the edge alongside him. you’re reduced to a brainless, overstimulated mess. little sniffles escaping from your parted lips and staining the pillow. you look so adorable like this— taking neuvillette’s cock as if it’s the only thing you’re supposed to it. it is actually, what better than being hydro dragon’s spoiled mate?
“ssh, it’s okay darling, you’re doing so well.” neuvillette praises, adoring you & kissing your collarbone. “let me give my little one some break.” as soon as the breeding haze fades from his mind into clarity, neuvillette is beside you that very instant, soothing you, helping you drink water, rubbing the areas he held too tight which are now reddened. how cute his little baby looks.
“gotta take a break from work it seems.” you chuckled teasingly, and neuvillette smiles with hum, “both of us, darling… both of us.”
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cw: jjk manga spoilers (up to 221), blood, sword fights heh
+ note: it's finally here, and somehow it's worse than shibuya!
“is he gonna be mad?”
“satoru?” you snort lightly, taking another bite of your frozen yogurt. “he’s just going to ask if you won. he might try to take the sequel of that new book set you got as punishment— but i’ll see what i can do.”
across the table, megumi huffs, leaning back into the plush booth. you’d picked him up early from school today, the reason being yet another suspension. his second since he’d started the school year. you suppose that’s the reason for his sullen disposition and existential crisis.
“am i a bad person?”
you glance up at him in acknowledgement, but take a moment before answering. he stirs the frozen yogurt around in its cup, looking rather glum.
there’s a delicate way of going about these types of things. children (especially teenagers) are complicated creatures. they’re still at their most malleable, your words and actions shaping their very future.
“i don’t think you’re a bad person, megumi,” you answer softly, setting your spoon down.
“but i…i keep doing bad stuff,” he argues dejectedly. “and— and i was mean to tsumiki—”
“hey. no one’s born wanting to do bad things,” you tell him. “and when they do…it’s usually more complicated than we think. there are bad situations where sometimes we have to do bad things. even if we don’t want to. even if we’re not proud of them.”
“but how do you know that i’m not?” he asks again, and your heart aches.
“because i know you,” you smile. “i’ve known you for eight years, megumi. yeah, i think you could afford to try using your words instead of your fists once in a while, and be a little nicer to your sister…but i know everything you do comes from a good place.”
megumi doesn’t reply, staring out the window with that pensive frown of his. all you can do is wonder if you and satoru have done right by him. if you’re doing right by him now. (such is the life of a parent, you suppose.)
all you can do is hope.
“hey,” you grin, holding your hand out to him. “promise me something?”
_____
you stumble backwards, narrowly avoiding being gutted by a sword. gasping, your fingers fumble with the hem of your shirt, the material sliced right above the small, almost imperceptible bump of your stomach.
your megumi would never hurt you. your megumi, your sweet, gentle boy who still muttered the song about bunny ears as he tied his shoes. who always offered his sister the last bite of cake, even though you knew he wanted it for himself. who cried the first time his shikigami were injured in battle.
but this isn’t megumi.
you barely dodge the blade again, ducking and sending your demon dogs out to slow him down as you sprint down the alley. your heart shatters at the sound of a high-pitched whine, but you can’t stop, you can’t look back—
“going somewhere?”
you skid to a stop in front of him, staggering back as quickly as you can.
megumi— no, sukuna stands in front of you now, holding a sword you’d taught his vessel how to make, how to use.
“please,” you beg, thinking of tsumiki’s body a few blocks away. thinking of gojo in the prison realm. you can’t lose anyone else today. “please let him go.”
“i don’t think so,” he grins, sick and twisted as he slowly makes his way towards you. “if only he’d unlocked his full potential sooner. if only you had.”
“he’s just a child.” you say, voice trembling. you look around. there’s no use in running. he’s gotten much too strong.
but you’re not ready to die either.
he wasn’t patient, lunging first and taking the offense. it’s a struggle to meet him at every swing, deflecting blows that send tremors down the sword’s point of impact and reverberate through your arms.
playing defence is the smart move. you’d wait for an opening or a drop in his own defence. then your goal would be to disarm him and attempt to grant yourself an advantage.
(in theory, at least.)
when your swords lock once more, he forces them to the side, kicking you square in the chest. the impact knocks you onto your back. before you can get up, he’s on top of you, driving his sword into your shoulder.
the pain is so blinding, so white-hot and tortuous that you almost immediately pass out when he pulls it free and tosses it out of your reach.
sukuna is in your face now, lips peeled back into a smirk as he laughs, the top of his finger slowly dragging down your face.
“putting you down now would be letting this brat off too easy. doing it slowly, however—”
“get off her.”
your heart skips a beat. that voice.
there’s a flash of recognition in megumi’s eyes. just a for a second.
“satoru?”
“is that any way to treat the person who washed your underwear for almost ten years?” he tsks, hands in his pockets as he steps into the alley, quite literally kicking the king of curses off of you.
he sweeps you off the floor as gently as possible, your stomach flipping at the familiar sensation of being teleported.
you’re not in the alley anymore, you’re up on the roof of a building. as soon as satoru sets you on your feet, you look up, studying his face. the eyes you love so much stare back at you.
the emotions you’d kept bottled up since he’d been gone pour out at once. proof of your heartache, anger, pain, and loneliness spilling over your lash line.
suddenly there’s too much space between you and you tentatively take a step forward.
“it’s you,” you breathe. “it’s really you.”
he says your name softly, and arms you’d longed for envelop you. you feel safe, if only for a moment.
“you need to get to ieiri,” he whispers, a hand cupping your cheek gently. “go. i’ll stop him.”
you both close your eyes, as if the words hurt.
_____
“promise me you’ll always be good.”
megumi sighs, but places his hand in yours, squeezing it tightly.
“i’ll see what i can do.”
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How do the jjk men handle brat reader?
an: quick and dirty for you anon
brat taming headcanons with jjk men <3
gojo
gojo is just so fun and easy to provoke. he'll let you have your way for a bit, but as if a flip switched, the next instance you try to tease him he flips you over and pins you flat on whatever closest surface near you. he loves to see you squirm and wiggle, his cock grows harder and harder in his pants over the complete control his has over your restricted body with just his strong hands. "not so tough now aren't you? you little whore," says with a familiar look of unrestraint in his wide sky-blue eyes.
geto
does not hesitate to put you in place, hes not playing! he likes his girls obedient and malleable so he can train them just how he likes. when you talk back to him he promptly stuffs a ball gag in your mouth, or his hard cock if he wants to deepthroat you. "good girls are always quiet, yeah?" he smirks, ramming his fat cock down your throat
nanami
is of course a very patient man. he lets you get away with more than you should. he hates to hurt his baby girl, but punishment is due for bratty girls. you push him over the edge when your send nudes and videos of you playing with your pussy while he's at work he comes home, he orders you to strip down completely and kneel on all fours. when you refuse, he takes off his belt and picks you up himself, laying you across his knee and bounding your arms together with his leather belt. "now princess, which paddle would like me to use? the pink fuzzy one or the cedar oak?
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— eat of me baby, skin to the bone (body on body, until I'm all gone)
› astarion x f!reader
› wc : 1k+
› a/n : something something love as consumption also just wanted an excuse to write blood drinking foreplay there's zero thought here besides I need to fuck this man so badly i look stupid
warnings : no plot just sex, blood drinking, oral, fingering, piv, creampie, if there's mistakes no there isn't
The first scrape of his teeth against your flesh always sends shivers quaking down your spine and out through your ribs, the natural instinct to be afraid of getting caught in the grip of a creature that could easily render you lifeless. Anticipation of pain makes your breath catch in your throat, like the sleeve of a jacket snagged against a sharp corner.
And the pain does come, two pinpricks against the side of your neck that widen as his fangs glide through layers of skin. Your grimace melts into an expression of euphoria as the skin at the side of your throat numbs itself through the contained violence, and as more of your life blood bubbles to his lips like a fountain to be lapped at the more malleable you become.
The feeling of his fingers digging into your back and sides as he grips you tight, like an animal loath to let it's fresh meal go, is the only thing keeping you moored to this moment.
Your fingers tangle in silken snowy locks of hair at the base of his neck as a weightlessness envelopes you like a shroud. You smile feeling his teeth retract from the wound, his tongue gliding over it in both silent apology and reverent thanks.
Slowly your head rolls to the side, lips finding his in a kiss twinged with the taste of steel, molten and alive as if he were remaking the essence of you on his very tongue as a blacksmith transforms humble ore. You hum against his lips and he takes the opportunity to snag your bottom lip between his teeth. A tug, only the slightest, but it makes you gasp just the same when you simultaneously feel his hands slide to settle at your hips.
As you lick up the aftertaste of yourself from his mouth he gingerly guides your hips into motion, grinding back and forth against his lap. Heat singes your nerve endings and rushes beneath your skin, like a riptide surging forth to snatch at your ankles and pull you into open water.
His movements as he pulls your shirt up and off of you are lazy, the kisses trailing down the column of your throat to your chest feel like sticky molasses rolling down your skin. Impatiently your fingers curl beneath the edges of his own shirt, sliding upward and relishing in the feel of his significantly cooler planes of flesh.
The groan he breathes against your chest is gravelly and needy as he follows your lead to rid himself of the restrictive garment, giving you all the access your hands ache for while his tug at the waistband of your pants and his teeth scrape against one of your nipples as he takes your breast in his mouth.
Tongue slowly circling the delicate skin makes you press your cheek to the top of his head, the air in the room suddenly feeling balmy and thick as you caress along his spine and his fingers tug at the waistband of your pants making your hips press down harder, smug satisfaction enveloping you at the feeling of his erection straining through his own pants.
The ridding of the rest of your clothes is a messy, clumsy series of movements, all fumbling hands and breathy giggles before he guides you to lay back against the soft bedsheets. Sloppy kisses, all teeth and spit, mark his path between your breasts down your stomach as he moves to prop himself between your legs.
You feel his deep exhale as he nuzzles against your inner thigh, no doubt craving to lance your femoral artery but he resists that temptation only to indulge in another. Spreading you with his fingers and clearly enjoying the sticky wetness coating each of them before placing a kiss to your throbbing clit, pulling a moan from your lungs as his arm settles down across your hips to keep you somewhat still.
Your toes dig into the mattress at the first pass of his tongue, your nails scraping against his forearm as you clutch it like a stairway railing; the only guide as you sink into selfish pleasure. Gently he sucks at your clit and prods your pussy with two experimental fingers, slowly sliding past the muscle at your entrance before stroking against fluttering, slick walls that pulse greedily around them.
You don't know where you end and he begins, every swipe of his tongue clearing your mind like a slate until your body is begging, pushing against the arm holding you in place as your hips chase the feeling of him, grinding against his mouth in a shameless display.
The muscles in your thighs flex impossibly tight, screaming with the pressure of holding their position as your legs press into the bed on either side of him, shaking as your mouth drops open in a silent wail. His pace never falters, lavishing your clit in attention while his fingers scissor inside you, encouraging you towards release at a breakneck speed.
Your ankles lock around his back and ragged moans are torn from your throat in a sob, your lungs squeezing the air out while your mind goes blank, fingers tugging at his hair as the first cracks spiderweb over you, signalling the dam is about to break.
If anything it encourages him to devour you with renewed ruthlessness, withdrawing his fingers to grip your thighs tighter, spreading your legs apart with all the fervor of a long starved man finally sitting before a feast table. Your eyes screw shut against the onslaught as you wail, a choked broken sound shot through with total adoration.
Your taut muscles convulse beneath your skin as the pressure inside your abdomen mounts, reaching a deafening crescendo in concert with every strangled cry of his name bouncing against the walls. Spots dance across the black expanse behind your eyelids as you shake in his hold, fingers twisting white knuckle against the sheets with such force it's surprising there aren't jagged, torn holes in them.
He pulls away as you pant, body feeling fuzzy and abstract like a half formed thought, but the sound of fabric rustling cuts through like a knife and you open your eyes feeling his cock slide through the mess of cum and spit. Meeting his eyes the look of total reverence reflecting back at you knocks you off your internal axis, stuck in freefall seeing the way your mess glimmers against his mouth and chin.
A thousand painters across the realms could never hope to capture beauty even half as comparable.
As he pushes inside you he catches one of your legs in his grip, pushing it up against your breasts as he leans over you, deepening his reach which pulls a mindless, animalistic keen from deep inside your chest. When your hips meet he rests his forehead against yours, panting as he captures your lips once more and indulges you in a second tasting of yourself.
Words tumble out of you in a half formed, utterly incoherent string as he sets the pace. Neither brutal or languid, but each backward drag of his cock against your pulsing walls leads to a deliciously deep push inward that makes your fingers dig into his back as if you're molding stubborn clay.
Tears push against the corners of your eyes and drown the world in watercolor relief as your body works to suck him back in, a stubborn refusal to part with him for even a second as your cunt clenches around him and it feels like a supernova swallowing you whole and burning you out.
He overwhelms your every sense, pushing out anything that isn't himself and you meet the feeling with arms flung wide as everything falls away except the two of you and this bed. All that exists and ever has existed is this, the moment stretching and refracting in a million different versions as you clutch him tightly to yourself.
Once again he remains steadfast against the slamming tidal wave of your orgasm, his hips stuttering but never faltering as your cunt massages against him and begs for him to join you in complete release. It isn't long before he gives in to that siren song, burying his face against the side of your throat and you can feel every twitch of his cock as cum seeps warm and thick inside you.
Bliss settles over you like a plush blanket, body feeling like a melted, spreading puddle as you hold him tightly against you and your tandem ragged breathing settles into gentle inhales. The smell of earthy blood and sex crowds the room but you don't mind it, if anything it adds to your satisfaction as your fingers absentmindedly twist in the hair at the nape of his neck.
Sweet, chaste kisses are dusted all over your collarbone and throat as you feel him softening inside you and your grip on him becomes lax. The tickle of his lashes makes you giggle, a hoarse noise that brings a lazy smile to his face as he rests his forehead against yours.
You're reminded of the feeling of not knowing where you end and he begins, not when so much of you exists inside one another like a perfect mirror of the way he's still buried inside you. You could live forever within each other and you think maybe there are other types of immortality, but the thought is gone as quickly as it comes as he pulls you to lay on your side facing each other.
Your leg rests against his hip as you two simply bask in the others presence, his fingers brushing against your cheekbones and the bridge of your nose as if he's committing you to memory by tracing your features.
Any god that lives is sure to be swollen with envy knowing there exists no one so devoted as you are to each other, and every offering pales in comparison to the one he leaves at the altar of your hips.
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🕸 being stalked by them.
includes: patrick bateman, charles lee ray, tiffany valentine, jason voorhees, michael myers, pinhead, jennifer check, freddy krueger, jackson rippner, stu macher, billy loomis.
warnings: includes nsfw, if you don’t like it, don’t read it. minors please dni.
tw: stalking, nsfw references, mention of dead animals [in jason voorhees’ section].
🪓﹒PATRICK BATEMAN ꜜ﹒⟡﹒
he's incredibly calm, collected and calculated about it
honestly most of the time you'd just think when you cross paths with him that he's just Some Attractive Guy
and any time he makes a comment about how you look, or even says something that you think he shouldn't know about you, you pass it off as just him being observant and charming
wouldn't be shocked if he had a couple pages of notes about you
and if you ever got a little too close to finding out what he was actually doing, he'd know to lay off a little (and if anything, insult you like he tends to do to throw you off the scent a bit)
every time he's watching you he's thinking about all the things he wants to do to you, he'd get lost in his own thoughts staring at you until you moved out of his sight
by the time he asks you to go on a formal date with him, you can tell he's a little strange, but you don't know how long he's been planning this exact date with you or how much he knows about you
🛠﹒CHARLES LEE RAY ꜜ﹒⟡﹒
he would be horribly possessive over you, anyone who comes too close has pretty much unknowingly held a gun to their own head
he's ruthless about it too, he doesn't care who they are or how close you were with them, they're getting killed off as soon as possible because his goal is for you to have no one but him to rely on
he'd be doing everything he possibly could to get you in a weakened mental state, so that you'd be more malleable and easier to manipulate
and if he can't be your one and only, he's just going to have to kill you too ig
🖤﹒TIFFANY VALENTINE ꜜ﹒⟡﹒
to be fair, she didn't expect herself to become infatuated with you
she hardly even realized how obsessed she'd become before she was already trying to figure out how to make you hers <3
however unlike most, she wouldn't stalk you before trying to talk to you and flirting with you
you'd be going on dates, spending time with her and getting to know her
and all the while she'd be collecting information, never wanting to be away from you because she's just that into you
🕸﹒JASON VOORHEES ꜜ﹒⟡﹒
he's the stalker you should be terrified for your life over, and he's not subtle
you won't know who he is, but you'll know that there's something wrong, someone watching you, someone playing these fucked up games with you
he'd leave dead animals in your yard from time to time, and do a lot of things to mess with your head, create anxiety until your every move is filled with complete dread of what you might find next or what might happen if you leave your house
and he's not stalking you with the intent of charming you and dating you, he's stalking you with the intent of taking you, eventually he just wouldn't be able to help himself, he'd need to have you <3
🔪﹒MICHAEL MYERS ꜜ﹒⟡﹒
he's your very typical, almost basic stalker
the hiding in the shadows type who's always watching you from their hiding spot unseen
is he watching you because he's planning to harm you or because he wants to learn about and observe you, maybe even protect you? who knows <3
he knows your schedule and knows where you'll be at any given point in the day pretty much all the time
he'd leave things for you in places where he knows you'll find them, he'll take things like your jewelry, books, or clothes and leave them somewhere else
i could see him having a small notebook full of notes about you scribbled in his messy handwriting too <3
i don't know if he'd ever make himself known to you, but he might eventually leave a trace, a hint of himself behind to give you a glimpse of who he is
⛓﹒PINHEAD ꜜ﹒⟡﹒
the moment you open the lament configuration, there's no getting rid of them
they can appear at will where they want to, and they'll use this to their advantage
no one escapes the cenobites, and you're certainly no exception <3
while the cenobites' main goal is usually to defile and tear apart people's souls, that's not quite pinhead's goal with you
they'd want to keep you around longer, make this torture last
and considering they are completely neutral and never have feelings of any kind towards their victims, you should feel pretty special for the hold you've managed to have on pinhead
you'd never be able to sleep knowing what you might wake up to in your room
and obviously you'd never be able to tell anyone, who's going to believe you when you tell them a cenobite is stalking you and trying to torture you for their own enjoyment? good luck trying to explain what a cenobite even is without sounding completely insane
there's absolutely no getting out of it, you're stuck playing this cat and mouse game with pinhead until they decide your time is up
🩸﹒JENNIFER CHECK ꜜ﹒⟡﹒
you would have absolutely no idea, i mean who would ever believe that jennifer check of all people was a stalker?
but little does anyone know, she stalks you extensively, she's literally obsessed with you
she knows all of your socials and lurks them often, knows your schedule, knows what car you drive, knows who all of your friends are
if she found out you were going to a party this saturday, you bet your ass she'd be there. if she heard you were going to the mall with your friends right this second, she'd drop everything and make annita go to the mall with her so she could try to find you
she's much smoother about it than most because she's not the silently stare at you type, she'll come up and talk to you outright
so when she starts to flirt with you and asks you to do things with her, you think she just likes you, you don't ever question for a minute how she knows so much about you or why she already knows where your house is or anything like that
also honestly? her jealousy is insane, the urge to get rid of anyone that got too close to you would be strong to the point she might not even be able to control it
💭﹒FREDDY KRUEGER ꜜ﹒⟡﹒
obviously he shows up in your dreams constantly
however unlike with his other victims, his goal isn't necessarily to kill you
whenever he chases you in your dreams he taunts you with fear tactics and tricks
occasionally you'd wake up with little scratches from his blades, which would almost be his way of claiming you, letting you know that he's there, that he's real
and the fact that no one would believe you about your dream demon hurting you in the waking, physical world? that makes it even better for him, he loves to see how he's driving you insane
he'd appear in your dreams every night to the point that it'd become more comforting to you than nightmarish, maybe even eventually you'd stop running away from him
and by then, if you ever didn't dream about him it'd be discomforting, it'd almost upset you
which wasn't even his goal, but he's definitely very happy with the outcome
even the little scratches would start to be a comfort to you, because it means that he's there
🛩﹒JACKSON RIPPNER ꜜ﹒⟡﹒
you probably vaguely know him actually
not super well, to you he's just a guy you pass when you walk around the park like you usually do on fridays, or the guy you see sometimes at the one grocery store you always go to
you've had conversations in passing with him, and you'd never have a clue how much he knows about you or how many times he's watched you unseen
he picks up on every little detail, things you might not even notice about yourself
and when he finally starts really talking to you, using his charm and flirting a little, you're absolutely astonished at how well you and him seem to click
and you have no clue that it's only because he's stalked you for god knows how long <3
🥩﹒STU MACHER ꜜ﹒⟡﹒
he probably isn't very sly about it, i think you'd catch onto it pretty quickly
but just because he isn't slick doesn't mean it doesn't freak you out
whenever you go to school you're worried about seeing him, and somehow he always seems to be way closer to you than he should be
and he's such a starer, you could catch him staring and he wouldn't even stop or try to look away
and the worst part is that no matter how creeped out you get, no matter how many too-strange-to-be-a-coincidence things happen, no one believes you when you try to tell them
that's because he's just such a loud, charismatic guy that everyone seems to enjoy
and because of that, you're pretty much trapped
📞﹒BILLY LOOMIS ꜜ﹒⟡﹒
it all starts with those taunting, random phone calls
they'd start out few and far between
you'd just get a random phone call one night, have a very short, strange conversation with whoever was on the other line, then hang up and that'd be the end of it
until it happened again, and it was the same voice as the last time
each conversation, things would get more and more personal
and when you finally decided to hang up, not put up with this stranger's bullshit games anymore, that's when things would get real
that's when the phone calls would turn into him describing your clothing, the room you're in, and each move you make
he'd have you in total fear, under his complete control <3
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