#occasionally pointing out something really especially lovely

[ace-disgrace-on-the-case]

There’s something I love about Battletech that I’ve only now figured out how to word, and it’s the way ‘Mechs are treated in the setting (capitalized that way because in universe it’s short for BattleMechs).

If you’re not familiar with this line of thinking, let me introduce it a moment. In short, one of the things that mecha as a genre does is use mechs because they’re human-looking. It lets you take mechanized warfare, something famously cruel and dehumanizing, and humanize it, making it once again about lone heroic actors that tower over the battlefield. That can do a lot of things in a piece: it can let you really understand the emotional impact, war-is-hell style; it can be vaguely propaganda-y/wish fulfillment, in the sense that it defies the idea that one person alone can’t make a difference; it can even be used to make combat a person-to-person backdrop for what’s really going on (you could do a rom-com with mechs pretty neatly I think…wonder if that exists?)

Battletech seems to have this line of thinking built into the setting. From a Doylist perspective, I can’t guarantee it was on purpose, but shut up we’re going off the Watsonian rails.

The setting goes straight into it with the view people have of MechWarriors, the class of soldier that pilots Battlemechs across the battlefields of the Inner Sphere. The setting (especially in older eras) treats these warriors as knights-errant, crusading about in massive suits of armor for whatever cause they believe right--even if that cause is a bit of coin. Chivalric orders at one point really did and occasionally still do within the Battletech universe, and (again, earlier on in the setting) mechs are often passed down through family lines, making these machines into a symbol. What that symbol exactly represents depends from MechWarrior to MechWarrior, but no matter what it means something to them. They have some form of relationship with what it means to be a MechWarrior. To be one of these glorious knights.

But then, as all things must, it all comes crashing down when faced with the horrors of real life and the real-life battlefield. 'Mechs aren't invincible, far from it; they certainly aren't disposable, but in addition to other 'Mechs (the "romantic" opponent all MechWarriors wish to fight) they are under threat from VTOL craft, planes, tanks, artillery, and even properly trained infantry. The glorious knight, striding across the battlefield...can very easily lose their lives to their own notions of splendor. Combat, both in lore and on the tabletop, is brutal, and 'Mechs even if they survive often come away with massive holes, missing limbs, and pilots bloodied and bruised even from the safety of the cockpit. To say nothing of those that don't make it home, their ammunition reserves sending them up in a fireball of death, their reactors purged in superheated steam that could leak into the cockpit and boil them alive, their cockpit itself blasted from off the 'Mech's shoulders and leaving them nothing but a fine red paste. BattleMechs are glorious, yes, but at the end of the day it's still war.

It's still war. And war is hell.

So despite having the appearance of being an empowering machine in-universe, we can actually look at the BattleMech as symbolic of the kind of thing that really happens to people thrown into the grinder of war--they die. And it's not pretty. No idealism can protect you from the barrel of a gun. And you are most certainly cheaper to replace than all your equipment.

The designs of the 'Mechs lean into this depersonalizing angle, too. Many of them are, in the barest sense, humanoid:

But even then, it's the vision of a human filtered through a much more realistic military-industrial complex than something like, say, Gundam. And on the other end of this spectrum:

...are 'Mechs that look nothing like the people they're supposed to represent.

Looking at this through the lens of 'Mechs as something used to tell a story about humans, we reach a conclusion:

You think this story is about you. It's not. War is hell. Meat is cheap.

And that's actually really cool of Battletech to be so thematically tied into itself like that.

#post #battletech #fen rambles

[prince-liest]

First off; I LOVE 666!!! 'Multi-series hard kink/edge play pwps (though I'm with you on the 'without plot' being a total misnomer) that are actually in depth psychoanalysis of characters and complicated relationships' is one of my favorite parts of any fandom ( I'm being specific with that because no really for years in a lot of fandoms there's been that one ((or 2)) series that like. Will stick with me forever and make me think about sex/intimacy/myself differently. And your fic is 100% that for HH). I have a lot of squeeing about a lot of it that I hope to be able to coherently comment about at some point but for now!!!!

I was wondering if there was specific purpose behind where certain scenes take place? Like if they're at 'Vox's place' or 'Alastor's place'? because I thought there was a pattern of when Vox is (or ends up) subbing it's at his place (where he would feel safer and therefore more comfortable being vulnerable maybe) and vice versa with when they're at the hotel. But looking back at it to write this maybe I'm making that up? Because they just mostly do take place at somewhere of Vox's? Because I guess Alastor did end up 'going home' at the end a lot. In which case is there specific reasoning behind them not being at Alastor's place as often? (Does he just have less privacy at the hotel lol?) Idk I thought I was getting something, especially with that 'we're at the heart of your territory' line in part 8??? The more I type into this rambly chatty ask the more I think I was just overthinking. But it stood out to me anyway. ANYWAYS. *Finally pauses to breathe*

I really appreciate your series and I love your interpretation of these two weirdos relationship!!! Every snippet and every update I see drives me crazy!!! Thank you so so much for all your work!

Ahaha, I'm so glad to have written that fic for you in this fandom! Someone left a tag on one of the art posts for 666 recently that said "can't wait to see what emotional revelation unsafe kink will lead to this time" and it's. Pretty on point for the series, ehehe. With the likes of Alastor and Vox, it's really hard to dive into any form of intimacy without, like, emotional repurcussions, and that's my favorite thing to write! Thank you so much!

As for your question: To be perfectly honest, there's no specific pattern behind which location I choose for a fic as far as their roles are concerned! They mostly take place preferentially at Vee Tower because Alastor doesn't want to invite all the fuss and bother of Vox's...everything...to the hotel until much later in their reacquaintence. It's much easier to decide that he's done with whatever's going on and to dip out of Vee Tower than it is to have to remove Vox from the hotel (or, well, at least in theory: he portals Vox back into his own bed pretty easily after their night of drinking, haha).

Alastor inviting Vox over for drinks is a sign that he's actually, like, opening up a bit in certain ways by actually inviting him into his living space. Previously they'd mostly only been at the hotel transitionally, and during the second time they slept together, which is also the first time Alastor actually slept with Vox for reasons other than "for the meme", and was looking for a more comfortable, controlled environment to try this new thing in. (And also gave fewer shits about kicking Vox the fuck out without a second thought.)

In a way, the locations follow the general pattern of Alastor's emotional evolution throughtout the series: he's fine with it being at his place at first because he feels more secure and doesn't give a shit about Vox; then he transitions to being more careful and shutting Vox out of his personal space; and now he's slowly gotten to the point where he's comfortable inviting Vox in on occasion.

Alastor's opinion tends to matter more between the two of them as far as location is concerned, so it's mostly down to that, plus occasionally me thinking, "Hm, this episode would be cool to do in blue shark tank mood lighting," hahaha.

#ask #personal #callmeicarus #666 live on air #my writing #hazbin hotel #t #long post

[queenlucythevaliant]

Okay gang, here's a silly little game. I've assembled six teams of blended Narnia and Tolkien/LotR characters. Here they are:

For bonus points, tell me in the tags where you're going on your road trip, who has what role (driving, snacks, aux) on the road, and what you'll stop off and see along the way

#this is shameless inspired by the lotr national parks poll #but the crossover potential is just too good #also for characters who wouldn't reasonably fit in said VW bus just handwave it #everyone basically fits okay? #narnia #pontifications and creations #ask me hard questions #tolkien legendarium #i myself am going with team 5 (to no one's shock) #we're gonna hit national parks across america #Bilbo and Treebeard can trade off as DJ #Eärendil gets to help drive and navigate #Lucy is in charge of snapping pics out the window #Reepicheep can lead us in some road trip games or something idk #i feel like this would be a really lovely group to just sit and stare at natural beauty in silence together #which is kinda my jam #occasionally pointing out something really especially lovely #would be fun #edit: as if I left put your fave character I'm sorry both these series have about a million so it was bound to happen #and for Narnia in particular I was trying to bias it towards Narnians rather than friends of narnia #also i was seriously tempted to do a 'team dragon' which would be all the tolkien dragons + eustace haha

[chosopie]

GYM FUCK BUDDY - TOJI FUSHIGURO

Toji being that one buff guy you always see at the gym maxing out the machines. Every time you’d see him, he’d be trying a new weight or workout. For someone as bulky as him, you were surprised he even did calisthenics.

He’s always checking you out especially when you’re doing back squats or RDL’s. He just loves the way your ass looks in those tight little cycling shorts of yours. Whenever you’d pull up to the gym in sweatpants, he’d be visibly upset.

He’s one cocky bastard who’d show off whenever you’re watching him. He’d watch you struggle as you try to hit a new PR, waiting for you to ask him to spot you.

“What was that? I didn’t hear you, baby?” He coos, watching your arms start to shake as you push the barbell up from your chest.

“Spot me, please.” You huff.

“That’s it,” he chuckled and easily lifted up the barbel with one hand.

One thing lead to another and you find yourself in the shower room with him, your body pressed against the steamy glass door as he pounds his dick into your tight pussy. He pulls on your wet hair to make him face you.

“I’m surprised ‘yer taking my cock so well,” he groans into your ear. His hot breath fanned your face, the faint smell of vanilla protein shake hitting you. His hand stayed glued to your ass, occasionally lifting it up to spank you. One of the many things he loves about you is your ass. He’s definitely an ass guy. At some point, he’d even let you ride his face because he loves the thought of having his face buried between your toned legs.

“Stop that. You’re barely even sitting on my face. Stop trying to lift yourself up,” he forcefully pushes you down onto his face. Despite the full force of your weight pressed against his face, he remained unbothered, tongue quickly swiping your wet folds. You can feel the vibrations on your pussy every time he’d groan or try to say something witty. His hands would be gripping your ass tightly as he guides your body on his face. He would move you back and forth to help you grind your sopping cunt on his drenched face.

“Eat up,” he’d say as he’d brings his hand to your cheek, slapping it but not hard enough to hurt you. “Is this really your post-workout meal you pathetic girl?” He mercilessly thrusts his cock into your throat over and over again until he spills his cum onto your tongue.

#rev.writes #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji fushiguro x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji smut #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #smut #jjk smut #fushiguro toji #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen smut

[bigfatbimbo]

any fics of fucking Vox so hard the power completely goes out in the making? i looove what you've written for him already, would be really cool if the glitches were visible in the writing too!!

warnings — Pegging, small use of ‘mommy’, Vox being a whiny bitch

summary — Vox takes it in the ass so hard Hell has a power shortage because he’s just a whore like that.

a/n — OMG I LITERALLY LOVE THIS !! god any excuse to write Vox getting absolutely wrecked is a YES.

“Fuck,” Vox’s back arched and his hands went to grip the top of his screen, “Fuck ju—zzs—st like that.”

His voice buffered as you pushed your strap deeper into him. He was on his back with his legs wrapped around your torso so your plastic dick would have easy access to his ass.

You had to hold your hands on his chest to keep him from squirming too much.

“Needy tonight, aren’t we, Vox?” you snickered  as you moved the strap inside him.

“God, fuu—ck you, bi—tcc—tch,” he hissed before you cut him off by aggressively forcing pushing deeper into him.

He yelped and moaned, throwing his head back on the pillow.

“You’re in no position to be saying that, sweetheart,” you start moving the strap faster and rougher.

He let out a glitched out whine and stared up at you with pure hatred, and desperate arousal.

Your hands that rested on his hips now dug into him hard enough to break skin.

“A—ah,” he whined, “What’s wr—oo—ong with you? S—slow down.” he whined at how rough you were being but then followed it up with a long drawn out moan.

“Aw baby,” you leaned down and caressed his screen, “Your going to have to learn to be nicer if you want me to slow down. For now you’ll just have to take my cock like the slut you are.” 

He surprised himself by whining at your harsh words. Your fingers glided down and brushed over his nipples. He then shocked himself even further with the fact that, despite this humiliating position, he arched into your touch, craving any and all attention he can get from you.

You noticed how desperate he was, and smirked. He looked pathetic, sweaty and panting, covered in markings from your teeth, and looking up at you with a dark clouded expression, waiting to see what you do next.

To his delight, you continued to roughly ram into him, going at a rapid pace, nails once again digging into his hips.

“ohmygodohmygodoh—tsk tsk,” he moaned loudly as his hands clung to the sheets. At this point he couldn’t get one sentence out before glitching.

“Wow, look at you” you remark, rolling your hips, “what a little attention whore you are.” 

He whined and threw his head back. At this point, there was a low static-y humming coming from him. 

“‘m not—bzz— ‘m not a whore,” his protests were weak at this point. If he wasn’t being interrupted by malfunctioning mid-sentence, he was being cut off by his own whimpers.

“Oh, but you are, sweetheart. Only a whore would be taking mommy’s cock so good,” you coo down at him.

The implication that he was doing good, especially because that meant approval from you, made his brain feel funny.

“See?” your hands move up from his hips and caress the sides of his screen, “your so pretty when you don’t argue with me, baby.” 

Oh, that did something to him. He wasn’t around a lot of positive people, so the idea that your attention could be shown with something as kind as praise, made his throat tighten.

His moans turned into choked out broken sobs and all the brattiness from earlier drained out of him. You were sure that if he had tear ducts, he would be crying right now.

You hammered into him harder than ever, leaning over him to occasionally pepper kisses on his neck and screen. 

“Nngh— mommy ‘m— bzz— ‘m sorry,” he moaned out, slinking his arms around your neck, trying desperately to bring you closer to him. To make sure he was the only thing catching your attention at the moment.

Your hips rolled fast and rough inside him, and he could feel his climax approaching. 

“Sorry for— wait, you’re sorry?” You were sure you knew what he was talking about, his attitude earlier. Still, for a moment you were thrown off by the idea that this cocky, power-hungry asshole was apologizing unprompted to you. 

After a moments consideration, you came to the conclusion that he must have been slowly easing into subspace. He was probably apologizing because he wanted you to, what, praise him?

All though it seemed slightly out of character for the usually pretentious, bratty man, his half lidded desperate eyes seemed to convince you. 

Your grip on his hips once again tightened as you drilled into him, rougher than before.

“You’re so perfect, baby,” you panted, earning a loud whimper. His arms tightened around your neck and his nails started to dig into the skin of your back.

“So good for me, taking mommy’s cock so well, looking so pretty for me too.”

He whined loudly and the frequency coming from his head started to get louder. You were ramming into him with such concentration that you didn’t notice the lights started to flicker around you.

“c—ccl—close—,” he tried to speak but only uttering a glitched out moan. Luckily, you picked up on what he was trying to say.

“Of course, sweetheart, whenever you want,” you said, rolling your hips once more to make his orgasm even more pleasurable.

“So good for me, Vox, apologizing for being a brat, telling me when your about to cum,” you speak softly into his ear, except you don’t think he comprehends a thing except for ‘so good for me.’

He let out a choked pathetic sob and whined for more. His audio was glitching out more than ever, making him almost unintelligible.

Now the flickering of the lights around you was undeniable, even producing a low buzzing sound reminiscent of the one Vox’s head was currently making.

“So perfect, my pretty baby, ‘m so lucky to have such a good boy.”

All of the praise sent him over the edge. With one loud moan, he came.

But in a moment, the buzzing light bulb beside you exploded, and all the illuminated buildings outside your window went dark, causing a full blackout all across the city.

Vox was still clinging to your neck, breathless, panting against you. 

“Shit. Was that, like, too much, Vox?” you ask, clearly concerned as you go to pull out of him.

He pulls back slightly from your neck but stops you from moving your strap out of him. 

“Please— tsk tsk,” he breathes, still buffering slightly, “Please more.”

a/n — I was too nice to him at the end of this fix but DONT WORRY GUYS I got another sub!Vox request that will literally destroy him

also, i saw someone say that since vox is around so many toxic people, an actual compliment would fuck with him super hard.

so as you can see i agree with them

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin vox #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #dom reader #hazbin hotel smut

[crheativity]

Hello! Mind if I send in a request? How about some headcanons for the reader making cute little plushies for the overblot squad?

SUMMARY: You decide to make plushies for the overblot squad. How do they react?

WARNINGS: None that I am aware of!

COMMENTS: ANON I want you to know that this prompt randomly smacked me over the head at like 10 pm a couple nights ago and I have not been able to get it out since even though I haven’t been able to write until now. I hope you enjoy it!!

Part two - Prefect making the plushies clothes and accessories - can be found here. Part three - their reactions when the plushies are stolen - can be found here.

Riddle absolutely loves it, please don’t mistake his silence for displeasure. He thinks it is skilfully made and quite adorable, really! He’s just… a little concerned. Does making a plush toy of the Queen herself count as sacrilege…? He’s racking his brains for any rule or law that would prohibit this adorable little toy’s existence, yet none come to mind. Does that mean he gets to keep it…? He really hopes so.

After a few days of diligent research into the matter, he determines that keeping such a cute thing is not against the law, and is overjoyed to find that he gets to keep it. After some deliberation, he decides to leave it on his desk - out of view from Cater, who would almost certainly want to take some “cammable pics” for Magicam. This way, the toy can sit on his desk and remind him of his studies… and also of you. Almost every time he sits down, he finds his eyes wandering to it and can’t help but smile.

Heh, this is kinda cute. He doesn’t mind the plushy at first - it’s cute, but he finds the expression on your face as you give it to him much cuter. Of course he’ll keep it - it’s soft and squishy enough to be a pillow, so he’s eager to try it. Especially if it means skipping class.

As he attempts to fall asleep next to said plushy, however, he realises something - the plushy smells like you. He’s a beastman, with a heightened sense of smell. Even if the plushy doesn’t smell at all, it still smells of you. As a result of this realisation, the plushy now lives on his bed. He begins to find it frustrating to sleep without it, although he’d never be caught dead sleeping in the grounds with it. You’ll just have to replace it then instead.

(Ruggie has so many blackmail photos of Leona sleeping with the toy prepared just in case)

Prefect, this is magnificent! Imagine the money you could make off of these! Hm? What do you mean they aren’t for sale-? It’s just for him…? Oh. Give him a moment, his brain just crashed. He doesn’t quite know how to respond. He loves it, and he loves you even more, but that doesn’t mean his brain is capable of forming a response, especially when you give him a big smile. Give the poor guy a minute.

He leaves it on his bed. This man definitely cuddles it while he sleeps. He gets easily distressed when it isn’t there. After a rough day at work or school, he’ll talk quietly to the plush until he feels better. If worse comes to worst, he’ll hug the toy and cry as he needs to. He loves it so much. It’s almost a new friend to him - something he finds great comfort in.

(The Tweels are no longer allowed in his room. When they inevitably come in anyway, he swears them to secrecy.)

Is that the Sorcerer of the Sands… as a plushy? For him? Thank you, Prefect. Jamil doesn’t have a whole lot of plushies - he never particularly saw the point. But he’s absolutely charmed by this one — and by you. And the fact that it’s the Sorcerer of the Sands? You definitely knew him well. He’s smiling and shaking his head as he takes the plushy. You’re so cute, it’s so endearing.

At first, Jamil isn’t quite sure what to do with it. He can’t quite sleep if it’s on his bed - it reminds him of you too strongly - so he settles with leaving it on his desk. Occasionally, in his rare free time, he’ll sit at his desk and play with it, like a grown adult finding a lost but treasured toy again. It always reminds him of you. When life calls him back, he’ll set the plushy aside for now and get to work. It will be waiting for him.

Just like you, he hopes.

Prefect! He didn’t know you could sew. It looks amazing! It’s for him? You’re very sweet, he’s very in love. He loves the plush toy so much, no matter if it has any imperfections. It was made by you, of someone he looks up to, for him. He hates to sound like Rook, but to him, that makes it the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

He’s so proud of you. Vil is taking that plush EVERYWHERE. It’s always in his bag no matter where he’s going. Anytime someone questions it, he shuts them down immediately. No one will dare slander something that his beloved made for him. In fact, he uses every opportunity to sneak the plush into photos for Magicam. Whether he’s holding it, it’s nearby or in the background, it’s always there. People start looking for it in all of his pictures.

If you’re okay with the plush being online, that is.

If you’d rather it stay private, he’d kiss your forehead or hand and tell you he understands. The plush toy then stays in his room, on his vanity table. Looking at it makes him feel like a teenage schoolgirl. He supposes it’s alright to indulge in such silliness occasionally, hm?

Wow, you made him a marketable plushy? Of one of the Great Seven? He wasn’t expecting you to have such a normie hobby. Oh, but that’s not a bad thing. He’s extremely grateful, but extremely awkward - does this mean he has to get you something now? What kinda thing would you like? Ah, wait, was that not the appropriate thing to say? Ortho’s giving him the “shut up and be polite” look.

Please don’t be offended if it seems like he doesn’t like it when he receives it. He actually really, really does. He decides to make it his new “gaming buddy”, making him a little custom headset and fake controller and sitting it next to him while he games. He’s stunned to silence when the lil guy’s presence improves his gacha rolls by, like, a LOT. He was already taking pretty good care of it, but now he’s being WAY more careful with it.

Occasionally, Ortho will catch him talking to it. Idia genuinely loves the plushy - and you - a lot. Even if Idia doesn’t quite know how to show it, Ortho does - by recording Idia’s conversations with the toy and showing them to you. Idia is mortified.

Oh? My child of man made me this… adorable plushy? My, how generous of you. He’s absolutely in love. If you thought he was attached to his tamagotchi, just wait and see. Malleus is NEVER letting the plushy leave his presence. Lilia had to take it away to clean it once and it stormed for a week. He loves it so much - and you so much more.

He absolutely treats the plushy as a human, and asks the others to do the same. Occasionally, he (or rather, Lilia using his phone to assist him) will send you a photo of him and the plushy doing something together, such as having a tea party or a picnic. Almost always with the caption, “Dear Prefect, would you care to join us? Kind regards, Malleus.”

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

#Rhea’s TWST Fics~! #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland x reader #twst fluff #riddle rosehearts x reader #riddle rosehearts #Leona Kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #Azul Ashengrotto #Azul Ashengrotto x reader #Jamil Viper #Jamil Viper x reader #Vil Schoenheit #Vil Schoenheit x reader #Idia Shroud #Idia Shroud x Reader #Malleus Draconia #Malleus Draconia x reader

[miikapie]

just thinking ab Geto with a crybaby s/o (nsfw)

hi, this is my first time posting on here :33 idk if it'll be the last. i js wrote this when i got bored while studying. i love geto sm guys hes such a sweetheart

warnings:.. dacryphilia (reader cries during the deed), a little bit of infantilisation?, sweet geto hehehee,also slightly out of character geto? idk, missionary, really bad fuckin grammar dont come at me... anything else to put here uhhh js tell me //mdni.// NSFW UNDER THE CUT!

"mmm...missed this..i missed you.."

his hips rolled slowly into you, his hands smoothing over your thighs he hiked onto his shoulders. at this point, you guys have been going at it for a long while; you've orgasmed more times than you care to count (5 times) but ofcourse, because of geto and his crazy stamina, youve been folded on the bed for atleast an hour. he came home from a particularly long and difficult mission and just..needed you. so bad.

he coos sweet nothings into your ears as he always did, kissing at your neck with the occasional groan. the pace he set was so gentle, his tip kissed your cervix with every languid push and pull through your walls.

"you're so sweet...so good to me baby.." he whispers, the sticky noises of your arousal filling the quiet room

you always found moments like this with suguru to be perfect. just him and you, together, where the rest of the world didn't matter. but for some reason today, just something about it all was just so sensual and at the perfect pace..

with his head buried in the crook of your neck, his hand travelled from your waist to your cheek. what he didn't expect to feel was a trail of ..tears?

funny thing is you didn't even realise it. you had your eyes closed and your head buried into the silk pillow beneath you. you were completely immersed in the pleasure, and didnt notice the fat tears rolling down your face.

his pace slows to a stop and looked into your eyes. you thought the way his long hair cascaded over his shoulders made him look so beautiful..especially now. you looked up at him through teary eyes. he looked worried

"hey...is everything okay?" a frown was shown on his face, as he cupped your cheeks and wiped away your tears. "did i hurt you? you're cryin.."

you sniffled subconsciously, your hands placed over his. you smiled sheepishly and look away. "i.. I didn't even notice" he kissed your forehead sweetly, his facial expressions show he finally understood what was going on.

with one hand on your waist again he started rocking his hips, earning a soft cry of satisfaction from you. "fu-fuck.."

"you feel so good you're crying? ..baby.. you're flattering me..." his coy smile appears as he looked into your eyes, watching your expression twist and turn. it was, almost sinister "i wanna see this expression more often....such a crybaby.."

there was something about that new petname he gave you, the way it rolled of his tongue so sweetly, that made your walls flutter around him. he groaned a little, his pace slow and unfaltering. he gripped onto your waist. " you like that? being called a little crybaby?"

your hips bucked into him and you mewl, loudly. "s-stop, dont embarrass me..suguru.." his hips began snapping into you faster as a response.. another tear falls down your face but this time he kisses it away.

" 's not embarrassing..im into it. keep crying. in return ill keep you all nice and stuffed, how about that?"

thanks for reading HAHA

#geto x reader #geto smut

[jyoongim]

I love your stories, they are fantastic and feed my daydreams to a intensely gratifying degree.

I am curious if you would entertain the idea of writing an Alastor and fem reader as battle partners and occasional lovers. She’s a fox demon that has been around for centuries and is very powerful. She is indispensable to him in battle but she helps him take care of his baser urges especially during his rut.

I beg you!

Thank youuuuuu

note: i kept this rather suggestive hehe.

Alastor x Kitsune! Fem Reader

“So what’s with the fox? Didn’t take smiles to be much of a dog person” Angel said to Husker as the black fox trotted past him, walking towards said demon sitting on the sofa, rubbing against his legs before jumping up and curling up in his lap.

Husker shook his head, grumbling “Listen, that’s one thing you don’t want to know about. Trust me” he chugged at his bourbon.

Angel rolled his eyes at the cat demon, “Oh c’mon! Tell me! What do Mr. Fancytalk need with a pet? ” He whined. Husker ignored him, thinking sooner or later the spider will figure it out.

Charlie and Vaggie entered the lobby, overhearing the conversation. Angel turned his sight to Vaggie “Hey Vagina do you know the deal with the strawberry pimp’s pet?”

Vaggie sighed ”When Alastor manifested in this realm it was absolute chaos! some have speculated what unimaginable forces enabled him to rival our worlds most ancient and destructive evils. But one thing for sure, he holds an unpredictable source of danger, the kind we shouldn’t risk getting involved with unless we want to end up erased!” Angel deadpanned “that’s doesn’t really answer my questions toots”

Vaggie pointed towards the red demon, at the black fox “rumor has it the fox is the reason he’s so powerful”

Angel sucked his teeth “Ill believe when I see it”

———————————————————————————-

You napped on the bed of your shared room as Alastor sat out on the balcony enjoying the view of Pentagram City.

A loud BANG! Was heard and suddenly there was a massive hole knocked into the hotel.

A giant blimp was outside the hotel and a snake demon was declaring a fight against Alastor.

Alastor joined Charlie and the others at the entrance of the hotel, very much amused at the pathetic display.

”Who are you?” He asked

”I am the great Sir Pentigous! Your fiercest enemy!…We literally battled last week”

Alastor tilted his head, leaning on his cane “Well you would think I remembered you”

The snake demon hissed and went to charge up his weapons.

”Uuugghh Alastor? Aren’t you gonna do something about him? Aren’t you suppose to protect the hotel or something?” angel asked, hands on his hips. Alastor grinned ”Aah yes” he snapped his fingers.

Thick, inky black smoke billowed from the ground as a thunderous growl was heard.

”Holy fucking hell!”

A Giant beast emerged from the ground and immediately took the bump into its mouth and shook like a dog would a toy.

Several appendages swirled as the beast tore into the machine like it was paper.

The snake demon fell to the ground, trying to back away as the massive black beast snapped its sharp teeth at him,  making him cower.

”now now my dear you’ve done enough” Alastor said, causing everyone to look at him confused?

The black beast huffed before black smoke surrounded it.

Walking out of the smoke, holding the snake demon was a…

”THE FOX???!!” Angel exclaimed

You dragged the demon by his hood, baring your sharp teeth at him as he cowered behind Charlie.

You frowned at Alasto as you turned to him, ears flattening

You hands were at your hips as your tails swirled behind you “You woke me up for that?! Please at least let it be a challenge next time”

Alastor snickered as he pulled you into his side,  grin turning Cheshire as you nuzzled him anyway.

Everyone had a puzzled look on their face.

The cute black fox that often roamed the hotel was actually a demon?!

”told you would have found out sooner or later” Husker said.

”A-Alastor w-what?” Charlie stuttered, as Vaggie barged through pointing her spear at you and Alastor.

Your eyes narrowed as you stood in front of Alastor, growling at her, claws flexing in case she made a move. Your tails spiked.

”I wouldn’t do that if I were you” Alastor grinned, peaking through one of your tails

”This darling of mine is that ‘unpredictable source of choas’. Isn’t she a doll?”

————————————————————————————-

“Soooo you two are like a thing? How the fuck? What he own your soul or something?” Angel asked sipping his martini.

You smirked.

You had been with Alastor for a while now. You met the red deer when he first came to hell. He was running a muck in your territory, taking away the souls that you enjoyed tormenting. You, the ‘Kitsune Demon’, would not be intimidated by some newbie. So you fought Alastor. 

Who won? No one knows but many often saw the Radio Demon entering and existing your domain without consequence afterwards.

You and the Radio Demon had a very simple relationship. Your ancient power gave him legitimacy in status as well as your presence on his arm.

You were his best weapon in a battle and a great companion.

You might have looked scary, but only the lanky demon had seen you in your most vulnerable state.

You looked so pretty taking his cock and covered in cum.

”No he doesn’t own my soul and a thing? If you mean I warm his bed and keep him in check for the most part? Then yes” you said bluntly, making the spider gawk.

”you fuck that? That makes a lot of sense now” angel mumbled.

Speaking of fucking, you sniffed at the air. Alastor’s rut was approaching. You had to take care of that.

You left the confused spider as you disappeared in a smoky mist.

”Did you know those two get freaky?” angel turned to Husker, making the cat roll his eyes.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #alastor the radio demon #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel fanfiction #jyoongim #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut

[createserenity]

Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship dynamic fascinates me and what fascinates me even more is how people perceive them, partly because I seem to have a much more optimistic view of their dynamic than a lot of what I read suggests they do.

With that in mind I started trying to unpick how I see their dynamic and why and what I ended up with was a series of rambles on various aspects, including confidence, trust, silliness and what they ask of each other. This one is about what they ask of each other and why their relationship isn't some weird one-sided thing where Crowley gives Aziraphale everything he could possibly want or ask for.

I see a lot of posts and things suggesting Crowley always rolls over and does anything Aziraphale asks of him. I don’t know to what extent most people really believe this or if it’s just a fun joke (and I’m not saying that’s bad, I think it’s a fun joke too, I love reading all that stuff and it makes me laugh). The point I wanted to make here though is that I don’t think it’s true and also why I don’t think it’s true.

Everything from here on out is my opinion, but I won’t keep stating that in order to make it more easily readable, just take it as a given. If your opinion is different that’s absolutely fine, I love that we can all see this stuff in different ways depending on our experiences and personalities, it’s why the fandom is so fun. (It’s also why my opinion on so many things in season two ricochets wildly from one theory to another).

So back to Crowley and Aziraphale – I don’t think Aziraphale walks all over Crowley, or certainly not to the extent that people sometimes think he does. Also Crowley doesn’t and wouldn’t allow himself to be walked all over anyway. Why is this even relevant? Because I’ve seen people say that in the final 15 minutes Aziraphale finally asked Crowley to do something that pushed him over the edge and that Aziraphale was shocked when Crowley didn’t roll over and do it because Crowley always does what Aziraphale asks. This isn’t at all true for a start, but also this view tends to include a second assumption, which is that their relationship is one-sided and Aziraphale never does anything for Crowley, that he dismisses him and takes him for granted, which also is not true in a lot of ways. I think it’s a fundamental misinterpretation of their relationship dynamic.  

First of all why can Crowley’s actions be interpreted as just rolling over and doing whatever Aziraphale wants? Well, the answer to that is three-fold – firstly Crowley is a genuinely unselfish in many ways, he does things for people because that’s the way he is, it doesn’t make him a pushover, it just makes him nice. Secondly he loves Aziraphale deeply. Whether he knows it or not doesn’t matter, he cares for Aziraphale and wants him to be happy. This isn’t the same as being a complete doormat, it’s simply compromising with the person you are in a relationship with and occasionally prioritising them over yourself. Both these things come together in the third thing, which is that Crowley’s love language is acts of service – he enjoys doing nice things for Aziraphale, he enjoys rescuing him, or going along with him and letting him have his own way, so why not do it? The point is he’s never railroaded into it by Aziraphale, it’s always a deliberate choice. He is literally saying, I will do this thing for you because I love you and I enjoy making you happy and this is something I feel I can give to you.

How does Aziraphale see this behaviour?

Well that’s a tricky one, because in many ways Aziraphale is the more complex character, not least because he changes the most over the course of their history together. Is there a slight element of him taking Crowley for granted in some of their interactions, especially in season two? Possibly, but mostly I don’t think that’s it at all. When someone gives you things because their love language is acts of service you develop a (mostly sub-conscious) confidence in that relationship dynamic and if you also have confidence in yourself (which Aziraphale absolutely does – I’ll write more on this another time) then when you want something you ask for things. You ask not because you learn to expect, but because you think you’re worthy of asking and you think that your relationship is strong enough to stand up to the ask. I ask my husband for things all the time, sometimes they’re things I know he’ll give me – these are easy asks (I don’t just mean physical objects, I also mean acts of service such as helping me with something), sometimes though I’ll ask for things knowing he probably won’t give me that thing or without having a clue what his answer will be – these are harder asks, the sort you don’t do early on in relationships because they might break it either in one go or over time. Sometimes a hard ask results in me getting what I want, sometimes it results in a bit of back and forth before I get what I want, sometimes I get a no and I’m temporarily annoyed or upset, sometimes I get a no and I accept it because I knew it was the most likely outcome.

The point is that I ask, and so does Aziraphale. You ask because you have confidence that you are worthy of the ask and also that your relationship is strong enough to bear the request, even if the answer is no. Can a no still be annoying or upsetting? Yes absolutely. Can a no still be wrong on the part of the other person? Also yes. The point is that sometimes the no isn’t wrong and it doesn’t necessarily break the relationship. By the time season two comes along Aziraphale is confident enough in his relationship with Crowley to feel it can bear the weight of him asking.

So what happens when he asks? Does Crowley roll over?

Well no, he doesn’t. One big example of this is right at the beginning of the series, in episode one. Here Aziraphale makes a massive ask of Crowley and he knows it’s a big ask. Even before he tells Crowley what the problem is he’s aware of the possibility of a no. “Is it something I can help you with?” Crowley sayss, and Aziraphale merely shrugs. It’s not because Nina is there, she’s gone by that point. It’s also not because he doesn’t have faith in Crowley’s ability to help him, he always has faith in Crowley’s abilities (this is a whole other thing on trust). What he’s doubting is whether Crowley will help him. It’s why they’re meeting in the café, not the bookshop. He wants to break this one to Crowley a bit at a time – there’s a problem and I need help. I want your help, it’s why I called you, but you aren’t going to like it and I’m not even sure whether you will help so I’m establishing that I need help first, rather than showing you Gabriel immediately, so that you aren’t completely surprised when I present the whole problem to you.

Once they go to the bookshop and Crowley is confronted with Gabriel he offers the help he feels able to give by saying that he’ll drive Gabriel somewhere and dump him. He’s stating his willingness to help (which is important later), but for now he’ll only help in one specific way. What he isn’t willing to do is any more than that, not even for Aziraphale.

Help me take care of Gabriel. Help me sort this mess out, Aziraphale says, and what does Crowley say? No. Absolutely not. You’re on your own with this one. Even after Aziraphale practically begs him for help, complete with puppy dog eyes and the magic word, “I’d love you to help me,” Crowley still says no. That is not the reply of someone who lets themselves be walked all over or who rolls over every time the angel they’re in love with flutters their eyelashes.

Okay so what about the fact that he returns? Well, the stakes have been raised: for a start Aziraphale is now directly in danger, which alters the balance in favour of helping him, and remember he was already willing to help, he said as much, but he was previously only willing to help in one way. Now that’s changed. Doing things you wouldn’t normally do for someone you love when the stakes are raised is a perfectly normal rection in a relationship and does not indicate an unhealthy dynamic. Crowley has now realised that getting rid of Gabriel is no longer an option - his preferred plan (dumping Gabriel somewhere) will no longer work, so the only choice is now Aziraphale’s plan of keeping him in the bookshop and taking care of him.

This is why he returns.

A quick note on the call

Just backtracking a bit here – when Aziraphale calls Crowley to ask him for help Crowley agrees to be over in two minutes. It’s instant, no questions asked and at first glance looks like Aziraphale calls and Crowley comes running just because. But nope. Later we are very clearly told that Crowley knows something is wrong the moment he picks up the phone and Aziraphale starts speaking, “This was your ‘Something’s Wrong’ voice.” Crowley already knows there’s a problem and what do you do when your closest friend calls you and tells you about a problem? You try to help. Whether that’s advice, comfort, physically going around to help out or whatever the situation calls for. Of course Crowley says he’ll be there in two minutes, he doesn’t exactly have anything else on and his friend has just indirectly told him something is wrong. He’d be a pretty shitty person/entity if he didn’t agree to drop round and try to help.

So what about the 'I was wrong' dance?

This whole interaction, that many people say indicates how under the thumb he is actually shows us the exact opposite. What’s the first thing Crowley says when Aziraphale asks him to do the dance? “I don’t do the dance.” This tells us a hell of a lot about their relationship dynamic up to this point – for a start Aziraphale has clearly done the dance before, at Crowley’s request, and he lists off the occasions. The dance is silly and slightly demeaning and Aziraphale has done it several times for Crowley, whilst Crowley has never done it, yet somehow we read this whole scene as Crowley being the whipped one? Um. No. Also heavily implied in Crowley’s, “I don’t do the dance” statement is, You’ve asked me to do this before, I’ve always said no because I don’t want to. You’ve always accepted my no before and I want (expect!) you to accept it this time.

But this time Aziraphale doesn’t accept the no. Just like Crowley wouldn’t go along with his plan earlier, Aziraphale now won’t go along with Crowley’s no. Clearly he has done so in the past, but this time their dynamics are different. They’ve been much more open about their friendship for the past four years, they’ve both accepted that they are at least close friends, if not more. They’ve saved the world together and saved each other. They both acknowledge they “carved (this existence) out for ourselves” and that brings strength to their relationship. Now that Aziraphale has more confidence in what they are to each other, he takes that confidence and tests the limits of what Crowley will do for him, to push them more towards equality. Why should he always be the one to do the dance? Crowley responds by acquiescing not because he would just roll over and do anything for Aziraphale but because he recognises three things. Firstly that Aziraphale is pushing and that this is new and that this means something to him in the context of their relationship, secondly because he reluctantly accepts Aziraphale’s point that it isn’t really fair that he never does it, and finally because the request for him to do the dance isn’t about him refusing to help (Aziraphale was never certain he would), it’s about the fact that he’s broken Aziraphale’s trust by refusing to help (which is a slightly and very subtly different thing). To illustrate this, right before Crowley does the dance, just after he says “fine,” he gets this very brief, soft look on his face – this is him acknowledging to himself that Aziraphale deserves this dance, that he loves the angel and that he’s doing this because of both those things – he could have continued to insist on a no, he clearly has before, but this time he chooses not to.

I will do this thing for you because I love you and I enjoy making you happy and this is something I feel I can give to you.

All right, what about the car thing?

What about it? Lending your car to the person you love is very normal. Ok so the car means more to Crowley than a normal car does to us, but the point still stands. Aziraphale is making a reasonable request here. Does he expect a yes? Absolutely, because he also knows it’s a reasonable request given where their relationship is. Does he flirt to get his own way? Hell, yes. Does Crowley know exactly what Aziraphale is playing at? Also a hell yes. And Crowley totally plays up to it, he’s not as opposed to it as he claims. He’s playing up his “no” and his grumpiness for effect, to encourage Aziraphale’s silly flirtiness. Look at the difference between this no and the no he gave Aziraphale earlier. There’s no anger here, there’s no real sense that he thinks Aziraphale is asking too much, he’s playing a role in their relationship and they’ve both played this game before. Look at that little slap of the hand, which Aziraphale responds to equally playfully. The game even continues after Muriel turns up at the shop, when it’s already quite clear that Crowley is going to let Aziraphale use the car (he’s already taking the plants out). Even in the back-room Crowley still teasingly grumbles about trains whilst Aziraphale smiles flirtily, and Crowley playfully withholds the car keys when Muriel interrupts them. They both know Aziraphale is going to end up with them, there’s no point to him not directly handing them over in spite of the interruption, it’s just an excuse to tease Aziraphale back. I mean, look at him – he spends the rest of the conversation wiggling his hips, grinning smugly and confidently handling the Muriel problem by talking about love. Aziraphale’s very overt reaction tells you all you need to know about the dynamic of this one.

Two can play at this flirting game, angel.

But he follows him around like a little puppy!

Well, yes and no. Sure he follows him around whilst he goes around asking all the shopkeepers to the meeting, but he does that because it’s fun for him. He’s curious, Aziraphale is acting oddly, doing something he’s never done before and Crowley wants to know what it is. He’s always found him fascinating – what silly and ridiculous thing is the angel up to now?

Also wanting to hang out with the person you are in love with isn’t at all strange or a sign you are in some sort of weird relationship where only one of you calls the shots. It’s normal. Crowley knows Aziraphale has a tendency to be silly or do unexpected things and he wants to watch him do them and also flirt with him whilst he’s doing them. Looking grumpy and reacting to Aziraphale’s silliness with disbelief is how Crowley flirts-without-flirting. Both of them know, understand and like that dynamic, and he has that role not because he’s unhealthy levels enthralled with everything Aziraphale does but because of the levels of trust they have spent millennia establishing.

What Crowley doesn’t do is wait around for Aziraphale. Look at the scene where Aziraphale daydreams about Job. In that scene he’s aware Aziraphale has something else to show him (the record clue), but he doesn’t stick around whilst Aziraphale ignores him. He could have sat down somewhere in the shop and waited – he’s got an eternity, waiting an hour or so is no big deal, but waiting around like that would suggest he really is a doormat, just waiting for the next time Aziraphale shows him any attention. He doesn’t do that, instead he goes off and does… well, something. There’s a lot of speculation over what it is, but whether he goes off to read Pride and Prejudice or just wanders off to find something more interesting to look at than the back of Aziraphale’s head, he’s clearly saying here that he has a life outside of whatever Aziraphale wants to do.

Also side note - you know what else he doesn’t do for Aziraphale? Adjust his driving style. Aziraphale clearly hates it, it makes him nervous and he even asks Crowley to change several times whilst they’re in the car together, but Crowley never does. This is how I am angel, accept it or don’t, but this is the line and I’m not changing this for you. Related to this is his refusal to accept Aziraphale altering the Bentley. Aziraphale tries to persuade him, “But it’s pretty,” and Crowley really isn’t having it. It’s another hard line and he’s not going to let Aziraphale cross it.

Anything else?

There’s a few other examples that I’ve seen listed in the, “Crowley does whatever Aziraphale says/wants” evidence piles. Things like Aziraphale assuming he’s going to get the drinks in the pub. Well, someone has to get them, and it makes perfect sense that they both assume it’s Crowley here because he’s the one more comfortable with pubs. Having a role that you take on within certain situations in a relationship is healthy and normal, imagine how exhausting it would be to debate who is going to do every little thing all of the time.

In the first series the coat cleaning is another example often cited, but this is something Crowley is perfectly happy to do. Aziraphale is flirting, which is delightful, and he’s not being asked to do anything difficult or dangerous. I will do this thing for you because I love you and I enjoy making you happy and this is something I feel I can give to you, which is totally different from, you always ask, I always give, and you always take.

What about Aziraphale. When does he give?

All the damn time. We just don’t notice it as much because Crowley asks different things of him. His love language is acts of service towards others, but he doesn’t really ask or require them in return. Sometimes he gets them from Aziraphale anyway (Holy water anyone?) Also notably in the Globe Theatre when he’s clearly the one pushing the Arrangement, and Aziraphale more or less agrees to do his work for him (“That doesn’t sound like hard work”) even before he’s asked, before they’ve gone through their little dance of Crowley pushing and Aziraphale supposedly-reluctantly agreeing.

The other things Aziraphale gives Crowley are much more nuanced, and much less measurable to us as the audience, but he gives them constantly, or more or less constantly, throughout their relationship. He gives him acceptance (although he occasionally partially withdraws it, such as in the bandstand scene), his silliness (which is more important than it first appears), a safe space (not just the bookshop, but also a safe space for Crowley to air his real views without fear of consequence, which is important irrespective of whether or not he persuades Aziraphale to agree with him), his physicality (by 1826 he’s really in Crowley’s space so much of the time) and most importantly he gives Crowley himself. Crowley constantly pushes Aziraphale to grow as a person, it’s one of the original reasons he entertains developing a friendship with him. What he asks of Aziraphale is for Aziraphale to think – really think – about what he believes. And Aziraphale does so, but only for Crowley. Humans have constantly questioned religious beliefs throughout history, they’ve written books, made speeches and even had wars over religious doctrine and the problems, inconsistencies and absurdities within it. Crowley is saying nothing to Aziraphale that he won’t already have indirectly heard from humans and dismissed or ignored. But when Crowley says it, he thinks and he changes. That’s what Crowley asks of Aziraphale and it’s what Aziraphale gives him.

What was the point of all this waffle?

Well, honestly there isn’t much of one. Only that their relationship is much more balanced than some suggest and I think I just wanted to spell that out. It also has an implication for the final 15 minutes. There’s no way Aziraphale goes into that with some sort of fake confidence that he can persuade Crowley to follow him to heaven simply because Crowley always follows him – Crowley doesn’t, he has very clear limits that he enforces with Aziraphale and Aziraphale knows this. He might feel confident for other reasons (such as thinking Crowley will be happy to be an angel again) or something else entirely different might be happening (so many theories!) but I’m pretty sure it’s nothing to do with thinking Crowley always does what he asks, because he very clearly doesn’t.

It's also why Crowley waits around afterwards to watch Aziraphale leave. It’s a way indirectly of saying one final time, I love you and I enjoy making you happy… but this is something I cannot give to you.

#good omens 2 #good omens #good omens meta #apology dance #ineffable husbands #ineffable fandom #acts of service #crowley loves aziraphale #aziraphale loves crowley #aziraphale #crowley

[coralinnii]

Can I ask for Vil, Took or Malleus (any of them, or multiple depending on how cool you are with it) when they find their s/O gives them cute handmade gifts? Baked treats, books, paintings and such. I completely understand if you can't get to this, but if you decide to take this up, It'll be really really cool! Thanks and have a great day!

‎‧₊˚✧Made with Love✧˚₊‧

↳ Reader S/O who made him handmade gifts

feat: Vil ❋ Rook ❋ Malleus genre: fluff note: no pronouns used with the reader, established relationships, nicknames were used for readers (spudling, mon tresor, dear, child of man), probably bad grammar and usage of French because of Rook,

To anyone who were wondering for my sudden MIA status…I got sick, like hella sick. I’m not the greatest at taking care of myself and apparently my body decided to teach me a lesson for that by leaving me down for the count for 2 weeks then giving me migraines if I spend even 20 minutes in front of a screen for another week. To be fair, I could have recovered quicker if I actually…rested and took care of myself but hey, lessons were learned.

I literally started this a month ago but now I need to relearn the characters because my brain can’t remember anything, so I’m sorry if it isn’t the greatest T_T

2.7K Followers Writing Event 2023

To say he was suspicious was an understatement. Vil was a man of routine and he could tell when something was amiss as the days went by. Little differences were of no cause of concern, but when his little spudling is just acting too skittish, the blond just couldn’t let it go.

At first, Vil was content with scolding you for the little bad habits you started. He caught you too many times hunching your neck and back, and the eyebags forming under your eyes were too concerning to him to ignore.

He had to physically hold in his gasp however, when you refused to come over to his dorm for a skincare date. He tried to be understanding when you claimed you had too much homework to come over, but he could do without Rook having to point out that he was sulking.

Yes Rook, Vil is very aware he could get early wrinkles.

Frustration turned to concern as Vil was quick to pick up that you were hiding something from him. Occasionally, he could see you quickly hiding something from his sight before smiling.

Insecurity soon struck him as alarming thoughts swirled about his mind. Was he the problem? Or is there a problem but he was too undependable to you to confide in?

Not one to beat around the bush, he approached you.

You were surprised that your lover requested to see you so suddenly. But, you thought the handsome blond sounded uncharacteristically solemn so you agreed, which led to you sitting in the lounge of your dorm/home.

Maybe you misread the tone of his voice, because the man before you certainly didn’t seem solemn. Sitting next to you on the sofa, Vil watched you silently with his arms crossed and a leg over another.

“So, Vil…how was your da-”

“I know you’re hiding something from me, spudling.”

From your flinching and awkward avoidance to meet his eyes, Vil’s suspicions were correct. Upon closer inspection, Vil spotted small cuts littered about the skin of your fingers. His lilac eyes softened somewhat, but he kept his voice stern.

“I admire you for working so hard for yourself,” Vil made it clear to you as his eyes gazed towards the small cuts on your fingers, “But, I hope I’m not someone so incompetent that you can’t rely on me, especially when you’re needlessly hurting yourself so.”

In a smooth motion, Vil raised his manicured hand towards your face, gently grazing your cheek to keep your attention to him. “So spudling, no more secrets…what has gotten you so busy and reckless?”

The gig is up, you supposed. Sighing, you asked for your blond beloved to wait as you quickly rushed to your room. Upon your return, there was something in your hands to which you nervously handed over to your upperclassman.

It was a soft ribbon with a charm attached to its end. The deep purple ribbon was embroidered with what seemed to be golden leaves attached to vines twisting and curling across the length of the ribbon. The charm was of a crown, a cheap trinket that was clearly inspired by the Fairest Queen.

“I know how hard you’ve been working for classes so I made you a ribbon bookmark, something you could use while you study or something.” you explained, a little embarrassed. “But I haven’t been getting the pattern right, so I couldn’t give you until I got it perfect.”

Vil has been gifting you so much, from customized skincare products of his creation to matching outfits that enhanced your beautiful form. But it’s not just fancy clothes and luxurious products. Vil worries for you, takes care of you, and helps you to see the potential in yourself and to strive for it.

He gave you so much, so you wanted to give him something in return. Something thoughtful, something that shows how much you cherish Vil. More than for his looks, more than for his fame.

“This didn’t turn out as well as I wanted, but I’m working hard so I can make a new one and get the embroidery just right,” you assured him as you reached for the bookmark. “So, please be patient with me.”

But, Vil kept your gift out of your reach. He examined your handiwork with such focus, taking note of the effort in every stitch. It was by no means the level of professional, but he could see how you thought about him. From the color of the ribbon and thread to resemble his honorable dorm, to the consideration of his dedication to his studies rather than his looks. Your gift told him that you saw not Vil Schoenheit the actor, but Vil your hardworking boyfriend.

Seeing your nervous expression, Vil chuckled as he finally spoke, the cute bookmark firmly in his grasp. “If this is for me, I believe It’s for me to decide if it’s acceptable.”

“I-I guess?”

“Good, because I’ve decided to keep this.” Closing the gap, Vil placed a kiss upon your face, teasingly close to your lips. With a confident smile, Vil took pleasure with your burning cheeks.

“Thank you for the gift, my cute spudling.”

If it wasn’t already clear to everyone, Rook’s primary love language are words of affirmation. You could sneeze and suddenly he has written a sonnet about how beautiful the cringling of your face was.

I’m only slightly exaggerating.

Rook is by no means afraid to show his admiration for anyone, least of all his beloved. All of his words and actions are all done without an expectation of getting something in return.

But lately, you have become a bit of an enigma to him. You would spend hours upon hours with him, smiling and capturing pictures of the two of you. Other times, you would swiftly leave back to your dorm, excusing it as needing to study but you would vehemently decline his offer to help you.

Don’t get him wrong, watching your concentrated gaze is gorgeous, the way your heartbeat steadies and letting out soft but longer exhales as though you’re making decisions secretly in your mind. Rook couldn’t help but wonder, what is it that captures your attention that has you gazing off away from him?

“Rook, can I visit you today?”

Oh my, it has been a while since you last requested such a thing. Partially because you both knew his Housewarden would have a fit if he wasn’t aware. But eventually, Vil gave you special permission, mostly because Rook would have found a way to either sneak you into his room or he might sneak in the middle of night to see you. Vil knew Rook would never have gotten caught but he’d rather let you stay than have the migraine of a vice-housewarden breaking curfew and ruining his beauty sleep.

“Oui, mon trésor. I would request approval from my Housewarden immediately.” Rook could never deny you of anything, especially if he means you could have more time to admire you in the comfort of his room.

When night fell and the two of you were alone, sitting on the hunter’s bed. You were nervously wringing the handles of the bag in your hand. Doubts filled your head as you wondered if the gift was even slightly capable of living up to your boyfriend’s expectations, regardless of how silly that sounded.

You knew that whatever you would give him, Rook would love and appreciate it with full sincerity. But, that doesn’t mean you weren’t nervous. The gift should be considerate, you thought. Something that shows the love you had for the eccentric blond and his odd… let’s say interests.

You looked to said odd man, who’s piercing green eyes caught your gaze. Rook noticed your nervousness and the mysterious bag but said nothing. Instead, he kindly waited for you as you calmed yourself, soothing you with gentle touches to your knee. The huntsman can be a lot to some, but he’s also patient and so supportive.

Finding your strength, you presented your gift to Rook. Curiously, Rook took what seemed to be a journal from your hands. It was only when he opened the book to see its content was he surprised.

Him. He saw him in a multitude of photographs that decorated the pages of the journal, lined with cute frames and drawings. Some photos were of moments he remembered, such as days where you visited him during his club, cute dates around the town, or simply just moments of serenity between the two of you.

Rook felt his cheeks flush as his eyes caught the little captions written near the photographs, dates and words written in your handwriting.

“My handsome mad scientist” “His dashing profile is so cool” “His warm arms around me ♡”

“I realized the last time I came to your room that you only had photos of other people” you had glimpses of the wall of photos that consist of people he admired the most, you included. “So, I wanted to give you a photo album of what I find beautiful…you.”

Your boyfriend scared you as the young blond suddenly stood up from the bed, eyes sparkling with excitement as he scanned through the pages filled with memories. “Mon tresor, this is absolutely exquisite! To think my beloved has been watching me with such an unwavering, loving gaze fuels a pleasurable delight within me. Oh, très bien!”

But Rook worriedly commented on something notable. “But, there are still pages left unfilled. Were our moments too few and rare to fill the album?”

“It wasn’t that.” you rubbed your hands as you felt the nerves return. “I was hoping that we could fill the last few pages together…like a couple.”

It was then the hunter kneeled before you, his hands reaching out to grasp yours as he looked into your eyes with a special loving gaze only shown to you. You couldn’t tell if you were captured in his devoted gaze or if it was Rook that felt compelled to hold you, to comply with each and every one of your wishes.

“You speak as though I would dare to deny my precious beloved. I’d be honoured to make more memories with you, now and far however long you will have me.”

With constant surveillance from his wards *coughSebekcough*, Malleus’ moments with you were rare but still meaningful. Some nights, Malleus would wander near your dorm, especially when he noticed the lights of your room, signifying you’re there and awake. And like always, you would open your doors for him with a sweet laugh and inviting smile.

But lately, Malleus has seen that your bedroom lights would be dimmed, and that you would take notice of his presence slower than usual. Once or twice would be of no concern to him. But, as it slowly became a habit, he began to worry.

He spoke of his concerns with Lilia, perhaps in the older fae’s experience he came across a similar predicament amongst humans.

Only for the veteran fae to be of no help, instead chuckling in amusement before giving his young dragon a cryptic comment “You will understand soon enough. My, how you are in for a treat~”

Malleus chose not to question further, nor did he question the odd coincidence that you asked him to visit you that very night.

“I don’t suppose there is a hidden agenda to your invitation, dear?” As Malleus made himself comfortable in your guest room, he noticed some changes since his last visit.

Firstly, the furniture were arranged to be more spaced out, although the TV was still quite close. Then, there were almost an absurdly large amount of pillows and blankets, to the point that some have started to pooled onto the floor.

“Hmm, you sound as though I’m being suspicious” you laughed good-naturedly, “But I do have a surprise for tonight.”

Coming from the kitchen, you pulled out a stacked fairly large, cold container. With Malleus’ keen senses, he could pick up a very subtle sweet scent mixed with a chilly sensation, and a familiar delight came to mind.

“Ice-cream?”

You nodded. “Made by yours truly. I asked Lilia if there was a particular flavour you like, but he said you weren’t really picky.”

Unceremoniously, you sat down next to the tall fae before handing him an ice-cream container. “I was trying out different recipes and ideas all week, tweaking it along the way.”

The results of your work appear to be a multitude of flavours with varying degrees of sweetness. From classics such as chocolate and vanilla to more subtle sweet flavours such as coffee and pistachio. Some were swirls of combinations with fruits or nuts, and some were flavours unique to his hometown, which he imagined were hard to procure.

“I may not be able to shower you in riches, or protect you like your knights…” you gave an embarrassed smile and gaze at your silent companion. “But I could at least make you something sweet, just so you could smile even a little.”

Behind your nonchalant smile, you do feel anxiety swirling as you worry your efforts pale in comparison to the luxuries your powerful boyfriend owns. Malleus is a fae of the highest standing and thus, his actions have more impact than the average man or fae.

But…he was your amazing boyfriend nonetheless, who smiled softly back at you.

“Thank you, child of man. Knowing the effort my beloved has done for me alone, I shall cherish this feeling for centuries to come.”

Your cheeks burned slightly over the sincerity, so you quickly diverted the conversation. “W-Well, just giving someone ice-cream would be too boring, so I thought we could spend the night watching bad rom-com movies while we eat. Call it a human custom of sorts.”

“Is it imperative that the movies must be bad?”

You shrugged “Not really, but it usually is.”

Setting the movie up, you returned to the makeshift nest of comfy blankets and pillows with Malleus sitting by you. The confused fae watched as you handed him a tub of handmade ice-cream and a spoon before picking a container for yourself, a strange feeling of intimacy unfamiliar to him…but not an unpleasant one.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst imagines #twst scenarios #twisted wonderland imagines #vil schoenheit #vil shoenheit x reader #vil x reader #rook hunt #twst rook x reader #rook x reader #rook hunt x reader #malleus draconia #malleus x reader

[hothammies]

morning hug - apoc au relationship details under the cut!

--- mike and will's (+ the og party's) background:

is it mike and will if they aren't childhood besties? their moms were friends before the infection hit and they saw each other occasionally before the apocalypse

after the apocalypse, they lived in the same walled community with their families and stuck together for a long time! from ages 4 to 7, they were basically each other's only friends until lucas came around at age 8 and dustin came around at age 9

the boys were separated from their families because a neighboring group attacked, effectively destroying the community (more on that another time)

this is when the og party learned to live and survive with each other!

in this au -> mike fell first, will fell harder :)

just friends... with benefits:

are able to talk about anything and everything

each other's closest relationship out of the party -> used to rely on each other emotionally (much more strained after they started doing fwb)

tentative fwb - usually only engage in benefits after they've had a bad day or are really stressed out

things feel normal when they're together and the morning after but then they give each other the cold shoulder...

mike has started making a habit of ensuring that there's a buffer person between the two of them when he assigns jobs (cannot handle the tension)

are currently -> avoiding each other + the other party members have noticed (they don't know ab the two of them)

what is their problem?

mike is scared of being committed to each other because he's seen what happens to people (his mom, rip ted LOL) who have lost their partners. he doesn't want that to happen to him or will were one of them to die.

he's also afraid of the possibility that a relationship between the two of them could affect the party's whole group dynamic and set things off, because he's more worried about their survival then he is about his own feelings towards will.

he loves will so unbelievably much that it hurts, and the idea of getting even closer to will and suddenly losing him hurts even more, so he keeps his distance.

-

will is most afraid of losing mike and the group were he to ask him to take their feelings any further. he's seen how devoted mike is to the group and to him, but he doesn't know if there's a limit to what mike is willing to tolerate from him.

he doesn't want to take the risk of alienating either of them, and he cherishes his relationship with mike so much that he's willing to go along with what mike is doing, which is straining their friendship.

will is a natural giver. if all mike wants is a fwb relationship even if he wants more, than he'll give it to him, even if it's tearing him apart on the inside :') he doesn't know if mike loves him back, so will is emotionally torn up from the distance that this is creating btwn them.

---

other notes: fwb byler is a really interesting dynamic to explore, especially in this apocalypse setting - by the point in the story that they become fwb, they're 17 and they don't really have any clue about what they're doing. most of their clues about intimate relationships stem from old magazines from a while back (that don't say anything about gay relationships) as well as what their older siblings taught them when they were 12, which highlighted the emotional aspect and not the physical aspect.

mike and will know that something within their relationship has fundamentally changed, and they have no idea how to handle it. however, they know that they can experiment and relieve tension with each other safely, but are also extremely conflicted on how they present themselves to each other outside of their experimenting and to the party.

heteronormative societal pressure is not a conflict in this story (at least, not yet) - they don't live with anyone else except the other party members for the time being. their only conflict has to do with them both being scared of losing the other. they live in a world where anyone can die so quickly, so they don't want to fuck up what they have :'D mike wheeler is the king of being unable to process his romantic feelings properly and will byers is the king of completely repressing his emotions! they're perfect for each other!

both of them are the equivalent of shaken up soda bottles with mints inside them, ready to explode (the mints are them being friends with benefits)

#had to say it before i got lampooned but i drew mike shirtless because he seems like the kinda guy who sleeps shirtless LMFAO #byler #byler fanart #stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #st apoc au #sammi's art

[ravengards-rogue]

i thought of you so often.

arthur morgan x reader.

✧ tags : fem!reader (gendered language, explicit use of she/her in reference to reader), children / planning on children, generally sappiness, fluff, au where nothing bad happens to arthur hdskjsdkfhsj.

✧ wc : 2.4k (???)

✧ a/n : arthur morgan.... save me arthur morgan....also not a super original thought but i can't Stop thinking about it.

✧ synopsis : a collection of love letters, all unfinished, tucked somewhere you aren't meant to find them. oh, arthur loves you more than you knew.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

You try to keep out of Arthur's belongings.

He's owed some privacy, for one. More than that, you've never felt any reason to look into it. Arthur isn't a man of many words, though you catch moments of his introspection should you pry. He isn't stoic, neither. And above all things, he's kind. Really truly kind in a way that makes him different from other men.

You don't have any complaints about him is what you mean. Unlike the men you've loved before, there are no short-comings of Arthur that would drive you to wanting to investigate his own personal things. Especially something so personal like his journals, prior or present.

On top of that, you were there with him through everything. You were part of the gang and stayed by him when it all fell apart. It was towards the end of that that Arthur came to you near frenzied, told you his plans, his thoughts. Confided in you and no less than begged to go with him where he ran.

You loved Arthur enough to stay, and so things ended - and you ran. There isn't much his journal could tell that you couldn't surmise on your own.

It's been years now, and you've long since left that life. You live with Arthur quietly, peaceful in the moments with a garden and kitty sweet as sugar.

It's a good life. An honest, quiet one sometimes to the point of being boring. You rarely miss the action, though occasionally you'll take up a bounty just to feel alive and make some money.

Mostly though, you live as unassuming folk. No bloodshed, no wardens, no gunslinging.

Been talk between you both about having a baby, recently. Serious talk. You've made some money between here and there, and you've got a good life. You've traveled too. But it gets a little lonely, and you don't really get your fill with just Jack when John and Abi are ways away.

Before anything like that, though - you need to clear some space. Empty out some belongings and things collecting dust. Living in one place for too long creates all sorts of mess, you find. When Arthur is home to help, he does - but he's been busy lately figuring something out with Charles. Some business venture related to ranching that you know nothing about so far. They'll tell you when its ready.

Usually when you're tidying, you keep to just your things, or your shared things - but Arthur has lived more life than you. It shows in that big closet space filled with nick-knacks he has yet to toss.

You'd mentioned it to him not too long ago and he'd given you permission to go through them.

(A kiss to your forehead from chapped lips and hands holding your waist, Arthur hums in acknowledgement as you ask his permission.

"Ain't nothing I gotta hide from you. Do whatever you need.)

But like you said - you try to keep your nose out of his business if it's not necessary for you to be in it in anyway.

You weren't trying to look through his things, really. You started cleaning, worked your way to that last box. Up on a shelf in his closet, a little too high for you to reach easily. You made a misstep and dropped the damn thing. It barely missed your head as the whole thing fell open, and out came journals and papers and photographs.

You've always known Arthur to be sentimental, so none of it has been particularly surprising. A photo of wolves and him on a horse, the picture from John and Abigail's engagement. Some other scraps of sentimental value.

And then there was a journal. Not Arthur's journal that he's always using, but another you've never seen before. You know Arthur journals, seen the thing plenty though you never look unless he shows you first.

A journal with a dark brown stained leather binding, fallen open and your name scrawled out in pencil lead at the top of it.

The curiosity got the better of you, okay? Not your damn fault.

So you're thinking on it.

The fabric of your skirt is pooled out underneath you as you hold the thing in your hands, sitting down on the ground surrounded by things. You've stowed away everything else that fell out from the box after ensuring it was intact, including Arthur's journals. Everything with the exception of the one you're holding.

Some guilt eats at you. You don't wanna upset him potentially by having looked. Even if he gave you permission, looking in the damn thing is a little different. But your name was there so clearly, and well - you didn't think he wrote about you. Apart from here and there, maybe.

You hold the book out in front of you with a sigh, looking fondly at his name ingrained in the leather. You press your forehead against it with, resigning yourself completely.

"Lord forgive my pryin'," You mumble, hoping it's enough to absolve you.

Your heart feels funny as you let your fingers trace over the hard edge of the front cover, one eye shut as you start to open it slow.

The first few pages are nothing special.

A page outlining who the journal belongs to and when it was started, and some doodles of yarrow and oleander. The pages after that filled with mundane entries. About people he met or things he saw, all endearing to you. The corners of your lips tug up slightly.

You really love this man helplessly.

You flip through a few more pages, many of them blank before writing starts to appear again. Little by little, you find passages. You look to the dates up at the corner (though not all of them have one) and trace the timeline. This is from all the way back in Horseshoe Overlook.

It feels like ages ago now.

You look at a page with no date, and reading the writing in it. There's doodles of flowers and trees along the bottom of the page. The words are easy enough to make out - because Arthur has the most unusually beautiful handwriting.

There's some entries about you. At first, they all include your name in some context. Mentioned in the same way Arthur might mention Hosea or Abigail. The further you go, the less you see it. The more you become her and she.

It's a trend. The longer you read, the less there is about anyone else. Just you and all your silly idiosyncrasies tucked between pages. Something lovestruck and foolish lights its match in you.

Saw a body hanging at the tracks at Valentine. A gruesome sight. I told her about it and she laughed. Asked me to take her to see it. A strange woman, by all accounts.

You feel yourself smile a little as you continue to flip through the pages.

She joined me riding into town today. Said she had some business to attend but would not tell me any details. After, she came with me to purchase a new gun. I engraved a snake into it's handle, per her request.

Another few pages littered with drawings of delicate berries and waterfalls before you stumble across more writing. The more you flip, the longer the passages become you.

You can't tear your eyes away.

Rained today. Nothing too terrible or worth mentioning, except that she nearly caught a cold playing in it. I brought her coffee to keep her warm, but could not scold her further upon seeing her delight.

Another passage, this time written with messier hand writing. A coffee stain splatters on the white of the page.

Your heart tugs on itself. Swells about a thousand sizes. To think he wrote so much of your time together between these pages.

You read and read and read - and each passage is a little more mundane at the last. Some pages go on in vivid detail, but others are so short you aren't sure what to make of the fact he wrote them at all. As if such little details were important enough to keep in mind.

I picked a flower for her. I thought it would suit her taste. It was white with delicate petals. I did not know the name.

She wore it in her hair this evening. I find I can't stop grinning.

One passage on the next few pages, longer than the rest, catches your eye. From later in your time together, written when you were in Leymone. Near Scarlett Meadows and before the mess in Saint Denis.

After Arthur had been kidnapped.

I have gone on and on about the business with Colm O'Driscoll in many entries before this one. Yet, I find it difficult to forget. Many times I have come close to death, and still no experience lingers on my mind quite like this one. Everyone has done their best to look after me. For that I am grateful, though I do not care for being looked after. What use am I like this, I wonder? Perhaps, I should simply be grateful to be alive and in one piece, if a little uglier than I was. Alongside Miss Grimshaw and Miss Tilly, she has been by my side while I recovered. Such a carefree woman and yet I have seen her cry and weep over me countless times in the last few weeks alone. The decent man in me is apologetic for causing sorrow. Perhaps, it is the outlaw in me that feels some strange relief or satisfaction. Her fussing does not give me any grief. If anything, I find myself all the more endeared. Such a decent woman does not belong in a place like this. I hope she is able to go somewhere far away and live peacefully. I am not so shameless to want anything more. The time together we have spent, I will make sure to cherish.

Something painful and pitiful tugs at your heart. Even when Arthur admitted his feelings for you, he had started it on a similar tangent. You tell him often that you're the one who feels out of bounds with him. That a man as decent and as honest as him often feels like too much for you to have so easily.

A tear slips from your eye and you laugh at your own sentimentality, wiping it away before it can splatter onto the pages.

The further you read, the more sporadic entries become. You find that there are pages filled with sketches of you, but many of them are scratched out or half erased - like he did not find them good enough. Of your side profile, of your hands, of you pointing at a target with a gun. You feel a strange feeling of love wash over you.

Instead of concrete thoughts, you're met with Arthur's abstract. Subtle complexities and studies. There's honest tenderness in the way he sketches you and the words he chooses to caption each with. Lighter, thinner lines. Smaller doodles like stray daydreams caught onto a page.

You've never doubted Arthur in his love for you, quiet man he is - but it proves to overwhelm when presented to you in such a way.

You get to back pages. There, you're finally met with more writing. Except, instead of journal entries, there's the start of letters. You find your name at the top of the page.

Over and over. Love letters, all unfinished or scrapped. Written over and over and over, but not completed. There's tens of them at least. You've never received a love letter from Arthur before, though it's nothing you fault him for.

Now you're almost glad. You like this much better.

My darling girl My muse The better half of me, I must find some way to tell you all of what I think of you. It seems no words do it justice, I'm afraid. Still, it is in my best interest to try.

Damn that man.

When you find yourself starting to weep, you don't fight the feeling. You merely shut the book closed and set it in your lap before crying into your hands.

Such overwhelmingly happy tears. You feel off balance. If the whole world turned on its head this very minute, you're unsure you'd notice. What a decent, honest man you've come to love. What a tender one.

In the middle of your crying, you don't hear the door open or close. Nor do you hear Arthur's heavy footfall until he's in the doorway, with a voice worried half to death.

"Sweetheart, what in the hell?"

You turn your head to look at him, watching his eyes widen at your tear stained face. You clamber to your feet hurriedly, book dropping onto the ground next to you as you throw yourself at him as soon as you can.

Arthur is a steady enough man not to stumble when you do, though you can feel his apprehension. Eventually, he circles his arms around your waist. His hugs are strong. Bout strong as him and then some. An arm wrapped around your waist, the other crossed over your back all around your shoulder. Full pressure as he squeezes you tight, patting the back of your head.

"I leave you alone for a few hours. What has gotten into you, little lady?"

You pull back and and look at him, wet lashes and all, before leaning up to kiss him. Arthur meets your lips chastely at first before making a noise of surprise as you kiss him further. You use both hands to grab his face as you do, scruff scratching against your skin. His lips are soft, welcoming. He melts into the touch, so easily - blue eyes lovestruck as you pull away.

"You know I love you, don't you Arthur? More than anyone in this crazy world we live in,"

His face softens visibly. He smiles at you, touching his head to yours.

"Somehow, I do. Though, I'm wonderin' what the hell brought this on."

You tuck your face against his chest, feeling his laughter reverb through you at the way you cling to him so fervently. You sniffle as you talk.

"Found your journal. The one about me,"

He goes stiff, then silent. When you look up again, he's blushing red. He pinches his brow.

"Lord, I'd forgotten all about it,"

You shake your head.

"Ain't nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You are so wonderful,"

He pouts at you. Your heart swells. "You ain't helping with the embarrassment."

You hold him further. Hug him so tight, worried he'll disappear if you don't.

"I love you, Arthur."

"You already told me once, didn'tcha?"

"And I'll tell you one thousand times over," You emphasize, pouting at him. "Really. I love you,"

"I love you too sweetheart," His hand cups your face, thumb brushing along your waterline. "Don't cry no more. Spoils that pretty face."

"I'll try but I don't know if it's all out of me,"

Arthur laughs, pressing a kiss against your hairline. "Guess I'll just have to wipe your tears."

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

#zero.writes #rogues love letters #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 x reader #rdr2 fluff #red dead redemption x reader #this is so lovesick and silly i feel so miserable #I AM A JOHN GIRL. BUT. well that deadbeat father and bastard isnt gonna write you love letters like arthur im afraid

[roosterforme]

Alone With All Your Letters | Hangman x Reader

Summary: You had been with Jake for so long, he could barely remember himself without you. But he was ready for more, and he was tired of waiting for you to catch up to him. With a few ugly words, he broke your heart. And with one handwritten letter, you brought him to his knees. 

Warnings: Angst, smut, age gap, fluff, talk of pregnancy, 18+

Length: 3700

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female Reader

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

You had been with Jake for a long time. Almost seven years to be exact. And while he loved you and knew he wanted to be with you, sometimes it was hard for him to come to terms with the fact that you and he were still at slightly different places in your lives. 

He'd met you when you were still in college. College. And he had been... a bit removed from school by that point. He had been new to Top Gun and San Diego when you slammed into his life. You were out celebrating your twenty first birthday at the same bar where he was celebrating his thirty third. You were clearly mortified when you ruined his shoes with a pitcher of spilled beer. But when he laughed, you looked so relieved, he let you buy him a drink.

And then you let him buy you several. And then you let him get you an Uber. And then he joined you in the Uber and spent the rest of the weekend at your apartment.

"Jake?" you asked, holding up two dresses next to your shared closet in his house. "Which one for brunch?"

They were both short and would show off your legs. Jake would get looks from other guys his age when he kissed your neck or wrapped his arm around your waist. He would get the occasional, "Nice going, bro." Or even the, "Daaamn." 

You were young. You were hot. But Jake would much rather spend the day at home relaxing with you instead of heading out to a boozy brunch with your friends. Especially the day before an eight week deployment. 

"The blue one, Honey," he told you with a soft smile. As he watched you get changed, he stood and tried to choose a shirt for himself. But he was tired of helping you pick out outfits and trying to coordinate how his shirts looked with your dresses. It didn't matter. It was exhausting. 

And that was the trade-off for being in love with someone twelve years younger. He was in love with a woman who loved him back with every fiber of her being, but he was also in love with a woman who put off the things he wanted to do. He no longer wanted rowdy beach vacations and dancing all night in clubs. He wanted to go to Europe and visit galleries. He no longer wanted to go out to eat every night. He wanted to stay in with you and make a meal together. 

He always felt the clash. Always felt like he was conceding with what he wanted for what you wanted. And it had never been more obvious than when he asked you a few years ago if you ever wanted to have kids. 

"Sure, Jake," you had told him, kissing his cheek. "I love kids. But not yet. In another year or two."

He hated bringing it up, he really did. But your answer was always the same. In another year or two. But it had been three years, going on four. And nothing you were doing was telling him you were getting close to that point yet. 

But he got dressed for this brunch that he didn't want to go to. And he held the door and talked to your friends and drank a mimosa. But he just wanted to be at home, enjoying the last day before he shipped out on an aircraft carrier. 

Later that night, Jake watched you change into some lacy, light pink lingerie that looked delicious on you. And then you made a big production of avoiding his grasp with a laugh. 

"Wait a second," you told him, pushing him playfully away. "I have to put something in your duffle bag." He unbuttoned his shirt as you rooted around in your nightstand drawer and pulled out a stack of envelopes just like you always did. "Make sure you read them in order," you whispered, bending to tuck them into his bag.

"I always do, Honey. Now come here." 

You treated him to your mouth and your hands and your pussy, letting him have whatever he asked for. And he fell asleep wrapped around your body, listening to you say, "I love you, Jake. I'll miss you so much."

But the next morning, he felt anxious in that way where he knew he needed to say something again. He'd be arriving back in port just before his fortieth birthday. He knew he was getting older. He knew what he wanted. But if there was never going to be a compromise with the timeline, then he needed to be the one to make the decision for both of you.

As you stood before him on the dock, tears in your eyes and your arms around his neck, he couldn't hold the words back. "Honey. I love you, but... I don't know if this is working for me anymore."

He watched your face fall and your lips part into a look of shock. Your voice was only a desperate whisper. "Jake?"

This was miserable, but he had to do it. He swallowed his guilt and said, "I don't know what to do here. I don't know if you're even happy with where we are, but I'm struggling. I'm about to be forty. I'm tired of going out all the time. I'm tired of waiting another year and another year and another year to get serious about kids. I love you, and I want to do that with you, but I can't force you. So if we aren't on the same page any longer, then maybe we need to end things."

Your lips were quivering, and your eyes were welling up with even more tears as you let your arms fall away from his body. You stepped backwards, putting some distance between the two of you. Your gaze started to change from one of sadness to one of anger. And Jake regretted it. He regretted everything he just said, but it was too late to take it back. So he stood there in it and let the disgusting feeling of remorse wash over him. 

"Honey-"

But his name was being called now, and you stepped away again when he reached for you. "Goodbye, Jake," you whispered, your voice rough with unshed tears as you swiped at your eyes. 

He turned and walked toward the long, daunting ramp that would take him to his deployment and away from you. Perhaps forever. Every time he turned back to look at you, there were more tears in your eyes, but you hadn't moved an inch. When he made his way onto the carrier deck, he dropped his bag and pulled out his phone. 

Jake called you over and over, watching you standing on the dock as you ignored his calls before tucking your phone away. He called your name, screamed it over the noise from the crowd of people seeing their loved ones off. He hollered until his voice was hoarse. And then he got his phone out again, waiting with shaking hands until he got your voicemail. 

He was looking right at you, and you were looking back at him as he said, "Honey, please. I'm so sorry. Please. I didn't mean any of it. I love you. I need you. I need you to be there when I get home. Please! Fuck! I'm sorry. Please stop ignoring my calls! I love you."

With shaking hands, he ended the call and redialed your number. Once again he watched you ignore the call, so he left you voicemail after voicemail as the aircraft carrier pulled away from the dock. He apologized as many ways as he could until your inbox was full and you were just a speck in the distance. 

Jake collected himself off of the deck and made his way to his tiny bunk where he sank down onto the unmade bed and cried. What was he thinking? If he had to choose between a life with you or one without you, he wanted to choose you. He fucked up, and now there was no way you were going to listen to him. There was no way you'd be there when he got home. 

He just broke your heart and then his own with a handful of idiotic sentences that he said in place of having an actual conversation with you. If he ever accused you of being less mature than he was, well, he was wrong about that, too. This had to be the dumbest thing he had ever done. 

"Fuck," he groaned as he started unpacking his bag. But your letters to him were right there, and he thought he was going to throw up as he untied the stack and took the top envelope in his hands. 

That would be your revenge in a way. He would spend his deployment opening all of your sweet notes to him. You always did this, and he always loved reading them. But now he'd let them hurt. He would let himself feel pain. 

But he was in no way prepared for what he read in that first letter.

Jake,

I miss you already! I'm probably still on the dock waving and crying, watching you sail away. Eight weeks isn't forever, but I know every day is going to feel impossible without you. And I know you'll feel the same way. So let me send you off with a little bit of hope and a promise. When I told you I had a last minute appointment on Wednesday, I had my IUD removed. And I didn't get another one in its place. I'm ready. When you get back in two months, let's go for it. Let's make you a Daddy.

All my love

He folded the note back up as neatly as you had, and then he tucked it back inside the envelope and sprawled across the bed with his forearm over his eyes. And he didn't move for a long time.

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

Jake was basically useless out of the cockpit. He flew his missions, and completed his training exercises, but he had to force himself to eat and go to the gym. There was no outside communication allowed this time around, so he had no way to talk to you, not that you would have answered your phone for him. 

To make things worse, he'd been rationing your letters to him, spreading out the pain, prolonging the agony. Each one was sweeter than the last, and each one made him ache. But he read that first letter every night before he went to sleep. Because, for the briefest point in time, he'd had everything he wanted. And now he had, well, essentially nothing. And because he had nobody to go home to, the weeks were flying by. He was nearing the end now. Nearing his fortieth birthday, and wishing he could just stay for another deployment. 

Silently, he packed his bag that final morning, but he held onto your letters, wanting to feel their weight in his hand. After nearly seven years of having you standing on the dock waiting for him to arrive home, he was going to have to call himself a cab. He'd go home and process things the best he could without you, but first he would stand there and watch everyone else fall into the arms of their loved ones. 

Jake tossed his duffle bag over his shoulder and wound his way down the ramp. He took a deep breath as his boots hit California soil, and he walked slowly into the crowd of people on the dock. The evening sun was still bright and hot as he was jostled around by all of the bodies. Choruses of 'I missed you!' and 'I love you so much!' rang out around him. When he closed his eyes, he could practically hear your voice, that's how well he remembered every single time you collected him here, took him home, and made love to him. 

But when he opened his eyes, he gasped. You were standing off toward the back of the crowd, face expressionless as the setting sun illuminated your features and your yellow sundress. The color of honey. Why were you here? To have your chance at telling him off? Or perhaps... 

"Honey?" he called out, suddenly shoving his way through the crowd. "Honey!" He rushed to you as quickly as he could, but you didn't move an inch. The only thing that changed was your expression, which was turning more apprehensive as he closed in. 

"Jake," you whispered when he was right in front of you. He hated the look you were giving him. There was an awful sensation in the pit of his stomach, a mix of wanting to reach out to hold you, but terrified of the rejection you were probably about to rightfully hit him with. 

"Honey. I fucked up."

You nodded, and the softest smile found its way to your lips. "You really did, Jake."

He dropped his bag to the ground. "Even if you're only here to slap me in the face, will you listen to me for a minute first?" When you nodded, he said, "I was frustrated. I'm getting older. I'm getting old for my career. I'm getting old to have a kid. And I feel at times like I'm too old for you to be satisfied with me."

"Jake, that's not true," you insisted, eyes bright with tears. When he ran his fingers along your jaw you didn't stop him. 

"Whether it's true or not, it's in my head. And I can't get it out," he whispered. "But I love you. I want to be with you. As soon as I told you otherwise, I regretted every single word, Honey. I didn't have to read any of your letters to know I had just made the worst mistake of my life. I didn't even make it all the way onto the carrier before I was calling you."

"I know," you whispered as one stray tear slid down your cheek. "I know you didn't read the note before you called me. I was watching you the whole time."

Jake brushed the tear away, fighting the urge to press his lips to that spot. "Then why didn't you answer me?" he asked softly. 

"Because I was mad. I'm still kind of mad at you. Either I'm enough, or I'm not. What if I can't even have kids? You were just going to leave me?"

"No," he swore, shaking his head. "The fact that you said you were willing to try with me is more than enough. Okay? You're more than enough, Honey. I love you."

You swallowed hard and let out a shaky breath. "I wasn't lying when I told you that I'd catch up to where you were someday. I never lied to you, Jake. So next time don't try to rush me into something, okay?"

He reached for your hand. "Next time?"

You nodded. "Yeah. Don't fuck up again."

"Does that mean you'll stay with me?" he asked, desperation in his voice as he wrapped his arms around your waist. 

"Yes."

Jake pulled you against him, his lips meeting your forehead as he squeezed you. He let himself cry out all of the pain and hopelessness he had contained the best he could for the past eight weeks as you held him.

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

Today was his birthday. Forty. Jake was pretty sure he was on the verge of needing reading glasses, and sometimes his shoulder hurt when he got out of bed if he slept funny. But last night he slept funny because you were wrapped around him in bed. So it was worth it.

Things had been a little shaky after you picked him up at the end of his deployment a week ago. He'd begged you to stay with him in his house and work through things. You'd been living with him for so long, he honestly couldn't imagine his place without you anymore. You were having open conversations together, and Jake was finally starting to feel like things were getting back to normal. 

But he hadn't asked you once about your IUD, thinking maybe you'd changed your mind when he was deployed, after he word vomited all of his insecurities on you. No, he wasn't going to mention anything about birth control until you brought it up. So quite frankly, he wasn't quite sure if you and he had had sex with or without birth control last night. 

Jake went through his day, hoping that when he got home from work, you'd be there. And that maybe today would be the day you'd make it clear what you wanted now.

"Honey?" he called out after he unlocked his front door. 

"I'm in the bedroom, birthday boy!"

Jake smiled and headed toward your voice, stopping short in the doorway. You were perched on the edge of his desk wearing that light pink lingerie he loved so much. There was a cupcake on a plate next to you, and as he approached, he watched you strike a match and light the candle. Then you pursed your pretty lips to blow out the match, and Jake was right there. He kissed you, raking his fingers along your soft skin, so thankful you were with him. 

"Happy birthday," you managed between kisses.

"You look like my present, wrapped up all pretty."

Your soft laughter filled him up. "I actually got you a watch, but sure, I can be your present." You hopped down from the desk and ran your hands along the front of his uniform before taking his hand. As you led him toward the bed, you looked back at him, your eyes unguarded. "I'm still figuring out my cycles now," you muttered, shrugging nervously, "but I'm pretty sure I'm ovulating today."

"Honey," Jake groaned. "Say it. Please, say it."

But instead of saying anything, you crawled across the bed, letting him see your gorgeous ass. And when you eased yourself down onto your back and spread your legs wide, you asked him, "Don't you want to fuck a baby into me?"

Jake's eyes went wide as he unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside along with his undershirt. Then he eased himself down onto the bed, grabbing the backs of your thighs and kissing your core through the lace.

"Say it," he begged, watching you bite your lip and press your head back into the bedding. "Honey."

"I'm ready, Jake. I'm ready to make you a daddy."

With those words, Jake drew your legs back together and gently removed your underwear, letting the lace glide along your soft skin. And when he eased your legs apart again, he groaned. "You're perfect. I can't get enough." He pressed his lips and nose to your pussy, inhaling your sweet scent as he stroked your hips and belly with both hands. 

He could already picture you round and pregnant. He'd been imagining how beautiful you would be as a mom for years and years. When he kissed your belly button, you pushed your fingers through his hair. There was nobody else he'd ever wanted to do this with. 

When he met your eyes, there was a smile playing on your lips as you whispered, "Jake, we're going to have to do this all the time now. You know that, right?"

He groaned softly as he unclasped your bra and let his lips settle on your tits. "Yeah, I know," he told you, running his nose along the undersides of your breasts. "I'll fuck you full of my cum, nice and deep. Keep you full for as long as it takes."

"Oh, fuck," you gasped as he sucked on your nipples and unzipped his uniform pants. And then he was thrusting inside you, and the little sounds you made were the filthiest things he'd ever heard. He went harder, deeper, thinking about how he'd make sure you always had his cum inside you. How you'd smell like him. How he'd be on you all the time. 

"You're gonna look perfect carrying my child," he whispered, and you wrapped your legs around his waist. "Everyone will know what I did to you. Everyone will know how bad I wanted it."

The way you responded to him was too much. Your back was arched, and he could feel you tightening around him. "Everyone will know," you echoed in a moan. "They'll know you fuck me so good, Jake."

His forehead came to rest against yours as he panted. "You ready?" he grunted. "I'll fill you up right now."

"Yes," you whispered, taking his fingers and guiding them to your clit. With a few slow circles, he had you whining and squirming as you started to climax.

"Stay still, Honey," he whispered, his voice rough now. "Keep it all inside."

You were keening from his words and your orgasm as Jake filled you with his cum. "Fuck," you whined, and it was so loud and needy, he rammed his cock deep and held you to him while he pulsed inside you.

"Don't move, don't move," he whispered, kissing and licking your tits as your fingers stroked through his hair. "Don't waste it."

He was in love with you and the feel of your body. You wanted what he wanted. He would make it his mission to get you pregnant. 

"God, Jake." Your voice was raw and harsh as you said, "I'm getting your creampies around the clock now, aren't I?"

He lifted your hips gently off the bed and watched as he slowly withdrew himself from your pretty pussy as you whined softly. And when his cum started to dribble out of you, he gently fucked you with two fingers, pushing it deeper. "Around the clock," he confirmed. "Now let me eat my birthday cupcake and then I'll fill you up again."

You ended up sitting naked on Jake's lap and laughing while you had to pick the melted wax off of the icing. Then you fed him the cupcake, sneaking a bite for yourself as his cum oozed out of you and onto his khaki pants. He'd fuck you full again later. He'd keep doing it as long as it took.

"Happy birthday, Daddy," you whispered.

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

I wrote Jake again? It's becoming a habit now. Thanks for reading this one! And thanks for @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

@blahehblah

@sotalife

@desert-fern

@furiouspiespytaco

@rosiahills22

@daggerspare-standingby

@je-suis-prest-rachel

@callsign-joyride

@theharddeck

@withakindheartx

@roosterscockpit

@whatislovevavy

@rosesreekofoccasion

@hangmanbrainrot

@neferpatra

@sehnsuchts-trunken

@child-of-thedevil

@thedroneranger

@cherrycola27

@mygyn

@hoyaharper

@tallyovie

@gennyanydots

@callsign-magnolia

@whisperofsong

@seriouslyseresin

@double-j

@bradshawsbitch

@sugarcoated-lame

@katiebby04

@anotherr-fine-mess

@supernaturaldawning

@chassy21

@strrywmen

@tylerjones98

@captainjaspenor

@gigisimsonmars

@fanboyswhore9

@angel-w0nderland

@abaker74

@idontcare-11

@isaebellaa

#jake hangman x reader #jake x reader #hangman x you #hangman top gun #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x you #jake hangman fic #jake seresin #jake seresin imagine #hangman imagine #hangman fic #hangman fanfiction #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme #alone with all your letters

[jadeslashes]

🕸 how they mark you.

includes: patrick bateman, charles lee ray, tiffany valentine, jason voorhees, michael myers, pinhead, jennifer check, freddy krueger, jackson rippner, stu macher, billy loomis.

warnings: nsfw, possessive & abusive behavior. minors please dni.

tw: mentions of blood, knives, cutting, hickeys, biting & burn marks.

🪓﹒PATRICK BATEMAN ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

he would have you wearing something of his, or he’d buy you something for you to wear

and he’d take any chance he can get to show it off, too

“see that necklace they’re wearing? i got it for them.” and then he’d go on to explain where he got it from, and probably reference how expensive it was because it’s patrick

oh and it strokes his ego a little bit every time he hears or sees you showing it off to your friends <3

🛠﹒CHARLES LEE RAY ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

he would shamelessly kill anyone who got too close to you, he barely gives a shit about marking you

but if anything he’d mark you by stubbing out his cigs on your arm to leave a mark (and if you’re lucky or ask nicely he might make it in the shape of a heart just for you)

🖤﹒TIFFANY VALENTINE ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

bite marks and lipstick prints

if she can sneak a kiss on your neck, lips or collar of your shirt that’ll leave the print of her lipstick on you, she’ll do it

and whenever someone points it out she laughs because she can tell that they know she’s the one who left it (and she loves the either flustered and embarrassed look or the somewhat proud and nonchalant look on your face when they do)

and of course she’d leave a few hickeys occasionally too, not all the time though

🕸﹒JASON VOORHEES ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

he’d do a few different things to let you and other people know you’re his

you’d have several articles of clothing and jewelry that he’d want you to be wearing, likely things that he found that he thought you’d like

honestly if he thought anyone was getting too close to you, rather than just trying to mark you he’d just do something more direct to scare them off

🔪﹒MICHAEL MYERS ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

cuts & hickeys combo

even if people don’t know that they came from him, they still know that you’re off the market

and whenever they start to heal or become less visible he replaces them with new ones <3

⛓﹒PINHEAD ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

the torture that they inflict is enough to mark you

they know that after the experience they gave you, the mix of pain and pleasure and every wound, bruise and cut that you got along the way is enough to ensure that you’re only theirs

you and them both know no one else could give you something like that, so that’s all they need to do <3

🩸﹒JENNIFER CHECK ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

call me basic for this one but i think jennifer would always mark you up with hickeys

all over your neck, shoulders, collarbone, thighs, everywhere <3

and when she’s with you out in public where people can see the two of you and your hickeys, she loves knowing that people can tell that she’s the one who gave them to you

holding your hand and kissing you and introducing you as her significant other isn’t enough, she needs people to know that you’re all hers

💭﹒FREDDY KRUEGER ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

i’ve talked about this concept a bit in a previous post but

he’d knick you with light little scratches with his blades in your dreams so you’d always wake up to see them

it’s his little way of reminding you that he’s there <3

sure, if ever someone asks about them you just lie about it most of the time, but that’s fine because you both know where those scratch marks came from, it’s your little secret

🛩﹒JACKSON RIPPNER ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

i think he’d like it if you used his cologne, or wore something of his that smelled like him, he’d offer you his jacket or shirt at every chance he gets, especially if you are out in public somewhere

he likes the idea of you smelling like him, having his scent on you

i really don’t know why tbh,, maybe that’s just a me thing but it’s hot imo

and as a bonus he just kind of always casually has his hand on you in some way, on the small of your back, on your thigh, you get the idea

🥩﹒STU MACHER ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

okay he might not necessarily physically mark you, but he definitely makes it clear that you’re his

whenever you two are out together or with friends he’s all over you, arm around the waist, kissing you, pulling you closer to him, all that shit

more often than not if someone looks in your direction he’s got his hands on you in one way or another

📞﹒BILLY LOOMIS ꜜ﹒⟡﹒

i see billy as having a huge thing for knives, so he’d cut his initials into your thigh or your arm

i wouldn’t put it past him to leave you with a few bruises too

“you’re mine, y’know that? all mine.”

#slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher imagines #patrick bateman x reader #chucky x reader #tiffany valentine x reader #jason voorhees x reader #michael myers x reader #pinhead x reader #billy loomis x reader #freddy krueger x reader #jackson rippner x reader #jennifer check x reader #stu macher x reader #slasher fucker

[froggywritesstuff]

fizzarolli & asmodeus dating hc's

ship/pairing: Fizzarolli x Asmodeus x male!bodyguard!reader (though there's not much talk of the reader's gender)

request: anon: Would it be okay to have an asmodeus x fizzarolli x Male bodyguard reader, I just want some fluff Headcanons like how the relationship would be like.

warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of feeling insecure, swearing, maybe ooc, not proofread

A/N: thank you for requesting! i originally only started writing this for fizzarolli because i didn't know enough about asmodeus, but after watching the new episode i decided to edit it for asmodeus as well. hope you enjoy!

they constantly flirt with you 

what’s the point of having a cute bodyguard with you if you’re not gonna try flirt with them occasionally 

if occasionally meant almost every five seconds of every day

they fucking love how flustered you look after they compliment you or makes a flirty remark 

they both especially love how you try (and fail) to stay professional 

fizzarolli's flirting is definitely more crude, while asmodeos is still lewd, but more sensual

overtime their flirting gets more personal

fizzarolli isn't used to someone caring about his safety and well-being like you do, so he truly starts to appreciate your company very soon, and he makes sure to let you know it 

if you tell them you enjoy their company and being around them, they get a thousand times more flirty and clingy with you

even though your job is to literally bodyguard him, asmodeus gets really protective over you

checks if you and fizz are ok like a thousand times after coming home from a day out

he knows you can protect yourself, but if he hears someone talking shit about you behind your back or to your face, he's gonna fuck them up.

now obviously they both adore seeing you flustered around them

but when you spring into action and fight off some random imp that was harassing one of them

different reactions from each, but generally speaking, they're down bAD 

even more than they usually are

as well as it being a huge turn on for fizz, he feels his heart just explode

he doesn’t often see you so strong and protective of him, so when he does it’s like he’s in a trance and can never look away

if you use that opportunity to flirt with him, he's gonna be putty in your hands

being his bodyguard, you don't flirt with him that often so when you do he goes bright red, and turns to a flustered, stuttering mess

asmodeus mainly finds it hot

after confirming that you're not hurt and you're safe, he'll definitely flirt with you 

gets super physical as well, even if you're in public and lots of people can see you 

though he tries to hide it, fizzarolli gets really insecure about your relationship, and thinks you're just faking your feelings since you were hired to be his and asmodeus's bodyguard

it takes a long time for him to actually be vulnerable with you and talk about his feelings

it's a big moment for him so do not try to downplay his feelings or dismiss him

if you ever need to talk about your feelings, or literally anything, asmodeus is definitely the best demon for that

you can rant for hours and he'll stay beside you, nodding and intently listening, chiming in when necessary 

fizzarolli definitely isn't the best listener in hell, but he really makes an effort for you

puts in 110% effort to listen to you and make sure you feel listened to

a lot of the time if you're ranting about something he definitely joins in, and you two have hour long conversations

they're both super supportive of you in whatever you do

and if you're ever feeling insecure about yourself, they're so quick to shut it down and shower you with compliments

#helluva boss #helluva boss x reader #helluva boss x male reader #helluva boss season 2 #helluva boss fizzarolli #helluva boss asmodeus #fizzarolli x male reader #asmodeus x male reader #fizzarolli #asmodeus x reader #fizzaroli helluva boss #asmodeus helluva boss #helluva boss ozzie #fizzarolli x reader #x reader #fanfcition #helluva boss fanfiction #ozzie x reader #fizzarolli x asmodeus #fizzarolli x asmodeus x reader #mlm #gay #fizzmodeus #male reader #helluva boss episode 6 #fanfiction #helluva boss oops #Fizzarolli x you #asmodeus x you #Asmodeus x Fizzarolli x you

[bigfatbimbo]

I wanna ruin vox.

I want to mess with him all day.

Wakes up: dry humping and cums in his pants with a shudder

Office?: Riding your thigh, the friction not enough.

During a meeting?: Riding him as he draws blood from trying to. Stay quiet by biting his hand.

And at the end of the day edging him so much he cries.

Brainrot.

a/n — Love this idea! Sub Vox prompts always have me drooling. Especially when were mean to him.

Morning would go something like this; waking Vox up innocently enough by straddling him and placing kisses on his screen. He would rise and after a few moments kiss you back. Morning affection, all wholesome and fun, right?

Of course, until you start grinding down on his crotch, making him suck in breath and mutter out a few curses. Hump him faster and his grip will tighten on the bedsheets.

He would ask you to take his pants off, but you would deny him and say “Oh, I don’t know sweetheart. Doesn’t it seem a little early in the morning for that?”

He’d whine because that’s not fair. You’re trying to get a rise out of him, and in a very literal sense, it’s working.

Oh well, continue to kiss his screen while humping his clothed dick. He whimpers and whines for you to ‘Just get it over with and undress him!’

But good boys ask for things they want nicely, so once again, you deny him. At this point he’s squirming below you, still being peppered in kisses. However, it becomes too much for him to take and he messes up his comfy pajama pants with his cum. He’s still whining, from the mess, the way you scolded him afterwards, and then the way you got off immediately.

Around noon, you’d find him in his office, trying to do work. But it wouldn’t take long to convince him to take a little break.

It would take an even shorter amount of time for you two to start making out, and you pulling him onto your lap, moving his hips slowly with your hands. He whimpers into your mouth as he picks up the pace.

Trying to take off his work coat, he would whine about how tight his clothes felt. However, you stop him when he tries to unbutton his shirt, instructing him to keep riding your thigh.

He would bitch about it and try to formulate some snarky comment, but at the same time he would hump your leg fast and more desperately, eyes filling with tears because it’s just not enough.

You sink your teeth into his neck and he’d cry out and tell you to “take it easy!” But all power in his voice is gone by the end of the sentence when his voice cracks and he bites back a moan.

Finally you do take it easy on him, in the afternoon. Except really, you don’t. He’s on call for a meeting and thank god it’s not a video call because you’re in his lap riding his dick.

He’s trying not to cry out or whine or make any noise other than the occasional ‘mhm’ to make it seem like he was listening.

But the way you’re slamming your pussy on to his cock made him want to cry. He was trying hard to muffle his ragged breath by covering his mouth with his hand.

He’s drooling into his palm and his eyes are becoming unfocused. The noise of the call become useless background noise. But he’s trying to hold himself together. “Uh-huh” is all he says now, the illusion that he was really mentally present during the meeting slowly shattering.

He has to bite down on his thumb when he feels himself about to cum. But then you turn his head towards you and make him watch you, still riding his dick mercilessly.

This is eyes breaking point, he sinks his teeth into his thumb, drawing blood as he climaxes. Still, that didn’t muffle the whimper he let out well enough.

He’d cover for himself on call after a few moments, saying he just got a paper cut or something.

And now it’s nighttime and you’re being absolutely ruthless. After everything you put him through today, you’re still not letting him cum easily. Hasn’t he taken everything so good, though? He’s been a little bratty, sure, but all and all, hasn’t he done everything you asked?

Now, he doesn’t even try to fight back, no snarky comments or anything. He just takes it, listens, holds back, and fucking cries. Tears are streaming from the corner of his eyes and dampening his screen. He’s glitching out and buffering and begging you for mercy.

Because you’re touching him everywhere so gently and saying such nice things but yet, he still has to hold back. Your hands play with his cock, his nipples, anywhere they can grab.

And he’s still sobbing under the attention and pleading with you to ‘stop!’ ‘give him more’ ‘let him cum’ just anything.

He’s sniffling and crying when you finally lean down and kiss him, saying how he’s “been such a good boy the whole day, and he deserves to finally let go.”

He’s whining and whimpering out of pure relief as he finally climax’s, falling back and relaxing in the bed breathlessly.

You coo down at him about how good he was and how patient he was, treating him to fantastic snuggly aftercare. He deserves it after the day he’s had.

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin hotel vox #vox x you #vox x reader #inbox open #dom reader