done-with-the-shit

[done-with-the-shit]

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Eggman x Human! GN Reader

Prompt: Kidnapped

Note: Y'all I wrote this as a joke, and to feed the Eggman fans briefly, but should I write Eggman for real? cuz I lowkey ate. Sonic is in this but Y/N has a sibling relationship with him and yes they are not underage so don't mistake it as love rivalry please 😭 Eat well @affinitytales 😉

Cw: Kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, human reader (Sorry! don't feel comfortable writing mobian x human), other than that just fluff!

🐸🧚🏼‍♀️🐸

Truth be told, you were more than capable of escaping this flimsy cage, but after seeing your captor, you changed your mind. Hi, your name was Y/N L/N, and it looked like you had Stockholm Syndrome as well as daddy issues, another thing to add to the endless list of issues. Amy will have a ball with this one.

His booming tone broke you out of your increasingly concerning thought trail with a start.

"Ah finally! I have succeeded in capturing at least one of Sonic's friends, well it is the human one but still, success at last!"

Wasssss it bad that that kinda turned you on- yes Y/N, yes it is bad to think that. But you couldn't help it, he was very handsome and so theatrical too, and besides he at least had goals in life; sure they were evil and villainous goals but still, better than most men these days.

You were snapped out of your daydreams yet again by realising you were staring when he spoke up again, less theatrical this time, aw shame.

"Why are you uh ahem... why are you looking at me like that?" He asked, his tone originally awkward, and almost nervous before he cleared his throat and changed his tone to a more commanding, bad move on his part.

"Oh, no reason..." You trailed off, you were completely crazy for being attracted to this guy right? I mean Sonic, one of your closest friends, is always saving the world from him... Butttt maybe a little romantic thoughts wouldn't be too bad, I mean what is he going to do? Lock you up again?

"You know..." You said, cutting him off from one of his rants about capturing you, it was very adorable to see him look so offended.

"May I ask why you choose to kidnap little old me?" You asked, innocently, leaning on the bars of your cage.

Eggman looked taken aback by the question before he answered gruffly.

"Well I uh saw you first so I- why are you asking me this?! Going to pawn all of these answers back to Sonic aren't you?!"

Okay, so he got defensive quickly, but they say the best men are the most guarded right?

You quickly shook your head before answering quickly, not wanting him to be upset with you.

"No, no, I would never, can't I ask questions?" You ask with an innocent gaze.

"Uh... I suppose so, but you better not share any of this with Sonic!" Eggman spoke, very unsure but not uncomfortable with the situation, though he did say your friend's name like a slur. Oh well, you did always like your men older...

You only got about three questions in (Ones that he explained in great detail so it wasn't completely your fault, geez this guy was endearingly lonely), before Sonic came busting in.

"Eggman! Hand them- What the hell?!" Sonic started before he saw you two simply talking, well Eggman was, you were just staring at him with a star-struck expression.

"Sonic?! What are you- Oh right" Eggman said outraged before he remembered that you were indeed technically his prisoner.

You gave Sonic a playful wave as he continued his usual speech.

"Let them go, Egghead!"

"Why should I do that? They have proved themselves to be quite useful" He retaliated back.

"Really?" You asked but before he could answer, if even was going to. Sonic surged forward into a spin-dash and broke the cage within a second effortlessly, scooping you up in his arms in a instant.

"Wha- Hey! My pr- I mean cage!" Eggman yelled.

"Your what?" You said gleefully, giving him a playful wink causing Eggman to falter for a moment. Sonic groaned but took the opportunity and zoomed off.

"Stop them!" Eggman yelled again as robots swarmed after you, but it was too late as you two were long gone.

After a very short amount of time, Sonic dropped you off back at your house, steadying you as you stumbled.

"Was it just me, or was he kinda into me?" You asked almost immediately, tugging your hair in a bashful way.

"Urgh, you are hopeless you know that? I mean Eggman? Really?"

"Oh shut up, you don't even have a girlfriend, probably couldn't get one anyway."

"Uh excuse you, I am the local hero, I could get a girl if I want, I just... don't."

"Whatever you say..."

There was a brief silence before you spoke up again.

"You think he will kidnap me again anytime soon?"

"Y/N!"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

[done-with-the-shit]

Why are they so stupid

[done-with-the-shit]

Soulmates

Emperor Caracalla x Reader

Summary: In which your soulmate is the perfect opposite of you.

Much like Geta, Caracalla loved violence. He enjoyed the games even as a young child. 

He and his brother grew up to be Emperors. 

Ruthless and fierce Emperors.

You were the Princess of a conquered empire. 

Your marriage to Caracalla was supposed to save your people from Rome however your trust was soon betrayed. 

Your parents were killed in the war and you just stood there.

Hearing the news that your people were defeated, parents dead and yet there you stood, in a gold and red dress.

"And now, you are only the Empress of Rome." your husband told you and you looked at him in horror.

But said nothing. 

You uttered not a word of your parents' death. You silently cried in your room.

Days passed but you refused to leave your room.

All you did was sleep and eat.

You mourned the loss of your family.

"The Emperor called for you." one of your servants said.

But you knew better than to keep your husband waiting, so you got dressed and headed to the gardens where you knew he would be waiting.

He always met you in the gardens.

Bringing Dondus along with him, you two often walked in there, surrounded by flowers.

You didn't talk much. He did most of the talking, you just politely smiled at him as he kept on talking.

"I thought you would be happy," he said as soon as he saw you. "Everyone always called you Princess. All the Senators, even the people. I thought by melting your home into Rome, your title would finally be as it was promised, Empress." so he did it for you. In his own weird and twisted way. He murdered or rather got your parents murdered for you.

In his own sick and twisted way.

You must have spent too much time with him because you actually find his action to be sweet.

"I just thought I should mourn them. People might find me heartless if I didn't."

"Never!" he yelled suddenly. "People dare not talk about you in such a matter! My Sweet Wife." you offered him a kind smile as he ran his fingers down your face.

You must have gone mad.

You spent two years with Caracalla as his wife, he must have driven you to insanity.

He always spoke to you with such sweetness, such kindness. You have never felt so happy.

You knew of his illness, Geta warned you about it before. 

"We have a form of medicine. Where I'm from. My uncle was sick with the same sickness, he found a way to treat it." you told them both one day about a year ago. 

That is when Caracalla fell in love with you.

His Empress saved him and healed him with the medicine of her people.

After that, Caracalla noticed many things.

One of such was the fact that everyone seemed to call you Princess.

Why did they call you as such when you were the Empress?

It was a clear disrespect.

It was something he needed to make sure never happens again.

After your parents' death, there was a game held in the Colosseum.

"A tribute to my wife." Caracalla said as he sat down next to you. 

You watched as two Senators walked out.

You immediately recognised them.

Both were ones that questioned your marriage to Caracalla and called you Princess.

Your eyes moved to your husband who was watching you.

He didn't say anything as the fight began.

The Senators never stood a chance. 

You watched and smiled at their deaths. They deserved it, you know they did.

"No one disrespects My Wife." 

A hand grabbed yours and you felt his thumb rub the back of your hand. 

Oh yes, Caracalla drove you to insanity. And you absolutely loved him.

Gladiator II Collection

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou 

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief 

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen @mel-vaz

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO TRANSLATE, TO STEAL OR TO REUPLOAD ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[done-with-the-shit]

Pairing: Emperor Caracalla x concubine!reader

Summary: After a public tantrum at a senator's gathering, Geta sends Caracalla's most beloved concubine to comfort his mad brother. Tags: hurt/comfort, slightly NSFW, implied/mentioned sex, Caracalla has serious mommy issues, nipple play, breastfeeding :/ (sorry), short fic, Caracalla is obsessed with your big naturals I guess idk AN: I'm not sure if there's any Otessa Moshfegh enjoyers out there, but this lil mini fic is inspired by Lapvona. Caracalla's man-child vibe reminded me of Merek, so naturally I had to write the most strange and off-putting fic to satisfy my weird-girl impulses. Enjoy, freaks!

Hurt by his brother’s callous words, the divine emperor Caracalla had fled the senator’s banquet in a fit of rage. It only takes a single tense glance from Emperor Geta for you to receive his silent command to follow after his mad brother. It does not take long to find him.

Like always, he hides away under a golden table tucked in the far corner of the throne room. His sniveling echoes off the tall marble walls. You slowly approach his curled up form, as if not to startle a wild hare.

“Caracalla. You must come out now.” You call his name softly.

“I will not.” He croaks through his tears, turning his back towards you. With a sigh, you sink to your knees, extending your open arms towards him.

You wait for Caracalla to find his sense. After a few moments, He finally turns to you to reveal his face—pale, rosy, and wet.

“Has brother sent you to scold me? I am no child!” Spite coats his words. You smile at the absurdity. He could order your head on a pike if he so pleased, but prefers for you to indulge his brooding. A god-king with the whims of a spurned child.

“No, I do not seek to scold, little prince. Come now, so that I may hold you.”

And with that, the emperor crawls to you.

He settles into your arms and you cradle his torso, the luxurious fabric of his ornate robes pooling at your lap. His cheek rests atop your bosom like a newborn babe—he weeps like one too.

“It is unjust! Brother always has the last word, yet I am eldest!” Caracalla laments, his tears wet the bodice of your stola.

You use your free hand to smooth tendrils of copper hair away from his damp face. A tantrum of this magnitude was not uncommon for the young emperor, though you often wondered how a man could display such behaviors at the age of twenty and one. Caracalla was distinctly tender, despite his blood lust. His ego was delicate, easily wounded by Geta’s pragmatism and rigid sensibility.

“He wishes to be rid of me, I know it.” He sniffles, his hand reaching to fiddle with the pendant resting at the base of your neck. You smile softly despite growing weary of this routine.

“Don’t be without reason, mea dulcis. You are invaluable to Rome and all her subjects. Geta speaks without tact when he is cross. You must know this too, hmm?”

Caracalla thinks for a moment, brows knitting together in contemplation.

“He is unkind. It should have been him to suffer in the womb, not I.”

You can’t help but laugh at his juvenile description of his brother's malicious cruelty. Frustration flashes across Caracalla’s face as water threatens to brim his eyes again.

“Peace, my lamb. No more tears.” You coo, using a thumb to swipe away at the wetness—but it is too late. Your laughter invited a new wave of angry tears. He buries his face in your breasts, jeweled fingers dragging down the fabric of your stola. His mouth quickly finds your nipple. You hiss, resisting the urge to pull him away from your flesh.

It brings the emperor great comfort to suckle you. Geta had explained Caracalla’s affliction once before.

“Our own mother denied him her breast; she believed him to be cursed. Perhaps he held on to that trangression. He called for a wet nurse until the age of ten and two. My brother has always suffered from madness, you see.”

You had taken prior notice of this habit. After he fucks you like an animal in heat, he often drifts back to your tit, lazily sucking and nibbling until sleep takes him. You thought nothing of it until emperor Geta revealed it’s cause to you.

And though you had no milk to bear, tranquility came over the man as if he had been fed. Eyes closed and breath even, he plays with a tendril of your hair as he rolls your swollen nipple in his hot mouth—lost in bliss. It is odd, but you pity him. With his lips so flush against you and his expression finally at peace, one could forget the madness, the carnage, the rage.

Sometime later, Caracalla regains his composure, standing straight with his shoulders back, returning to a proud and stately posture. He crudely wipes the spit from his chin with the back of his hand.

“You will attend to me in my chambers tonight.” He commands before returning to the festivities.

[done-with-the-shit]

I guess the main difference between emperor Caracalla and emperor Geta fans is

Caracalla fans: I need to fuck this man senseless

Geta fans: I need this man to fuck me senseless

I know there are also a lot or people who like both but I think this is a difference between both of them.

[done-with-the-shit]

|| lumine ||

Pairing: Caracalla/Reader

Summary: The gloom of winter follows you like a shadow. Caracalla is determined to ease your pain. (Prompt fill)

Word count: 1.8k

Tags and warnings: Fluff, slight angst with a happy ending, Caracalla adores his wife, reader is referred to as 'wife' and has seasonal depression, no use of Y/N.

(The amount of research I had to do for such a little idea! Please forgive the historical inaccuracies, I had to take a few artistic liberties, but truly I tried.)

Caracalla Masterlist || Fic Masterlist || Taglist

Every year, it is the same. The sun's ascent grows lower and lower with each passing day, and your joy disappears along with it.

You have no name for what ails you so. There is no medicine, no tincture, no salve for such an affliction. It cannot be cured by the hands of a medicus.

It cannot be cured at all, it seems.

Your winter gloom, Caracalla calls it.

You have become little more than a shadow, a phantom that wanders the long and lonely halls of the Imperial Palace, impatiently awaiting the return of Proserpina, and with her, the reawakening of the earth.

It is not a sadness that envelops you; there is no urge within you to cry. Rather, it is an all-encompassing numbness, a listless feeling that swallows you up and drains the joy from your heart. Pluto, in his godly wrath, has pointed a deathly finger at the earth, and you along with it.

You withdraw into the very depths of yourself, much like your beloved garden, until Apollo returns in all of his glory once more.

With each winter that passes, Caracalla grows more incensed - not with you; he could never view you as anything less than his most adored wife. But it pains him so to see you, the beautiful, vibrant creature that you are, reduced to little more than a husk.

He is determined to ease this affliction of yours.

You sit in your usual spot of an afternoon, bundled up in a blanket by the window, desperately trying to soak up what little light is still left in the sky. Where you are, you have a full view of the garden below, and how it hurts your heart to see it as wretched as it is now. Tall trees, once teeming with tiny green leaves, now stand bare; their branches exposed to the harsh elements. The rose bushes you insist upon taking care of yourself lie barren, and the oleander and irises have fallen asleep once more.

You let out a long sigh, your breath visible in the cold air.

Caracalla stands a little ways behind you, his fists clenching and unclenching by his sides. How he curses the Gods themselves for the pain they have pressed upon you.

He knows that no matter what he tries, there is no lifting this melancholy from your shoulders. And so, he realises, he must think anew. There must be something that he has missed.

For days on end, he thinks. And thinks. And thinks. Until he is quite certain that he will spiral quickly into the pits of despair if he should think any more.

And then, at last - an idea strikes.

He is so beside himself with glee that it takes everything in his power to keep himself from divulging to you. You are always his first port of call in every matter - from the most fleeting thought to the very depths of his soul, and so keeping a secret from you does not prove an easy task for him.

But he must try.

For you.

In spite of your lethargy, it is difficult not to notice that Caracalla is most certainly up to something. Rarely is he ever as quiet as he is now - even when he sleeps, he is livelier than most. Try as you might, you cannot pry even the tiniest detail from him.

"There is nothing to tell you, carissima," he insists.

It is almost impossible for you to miss the the small shadow of a smile on his face each time you ask.

It is one that you are very well-acquainted with - he knows something.

He is most assuredly hiding something from you.

Even so, he is but a man, and while he is certainly not one for keeping his thoughts locked away from you, you suppose that he is entitled to his secrets, and decide against prying any further.

It is another week or so before this little mystery is at last resolved.

You sit alone in your chambers, the biting wind having caused you to retreat from your usual spot by the window earlier than you would have liked. A roaring fire has been lit in the large ornate hearth, and you have cosied yourself up as close to it as you dare, your hands spread out in front of you to chase the chill from them.

The fire dances and crackles merrily across the wooden logs, and you find yourself growing increasingly mesmerised by it. So much so, in fact, that you do not notice Caracalla in his uncharacteristically quiet approach.

He clears his throat, swiftly making his presence known. You jump in surprise, quickly turning your attention to the offending sound.

"Caracalla," you say, quite breathlessly. "You startled me."

He offers no apology, and instead smiles widely in reply - indeed, he is the very picture of Dolus as he stands before you now. Even you, his beloved, are not spared from his impish tendencies.

You are rather quick to note that he still remains standing. Caracalla is never one for staying far from your side longer than he absolutely must. You notice that his hands are behind his back - a stance more commonly adopted by his brother. Caracalla, by contrast, does not like to keep still.

He is hiding something, of that you are certain.

"Will you sit with me?" you ask, softly patting the space on the blankets that cushion you from the hard floor.

Caracalla looks off to one side, deliberately unable to look you in the eye. His smile has returned, wider now, and you cannot help yourself from smiling in return.

Even in your melancholy, his warmth is contagious.

"I have a gift for you," he replies, finally meeting your gaze.

You tilt your head to one side with a curious expression.

"Oh?" you prompt. "You do look as though you have been up to something."

He laughs then, a beautiful, melodic sound that fills the quiet room with life.

"Perhaps," he replies coyly.

He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, and you know from experience that he grows impatient.

"May I see what it is?" you ask.

At your words, Caracalla drops to his knees, childishly shuffling close to you with his hands still hidden behind his back. You laugh softly to yourself.

"How I have missed that sound," he murmurs, his gaze dropping to your lips.

Warmth blooms across your face, and you know that it has little to do with the fire still dancing in the hearth.

"Close your eyes," Caracalla says haughtily, his chin jutting out as he attempts to wield some of his imperial power over you.

You shake your head with a small smile, but do as he commands, closing your eyes in wait.

You feel a light pressure in your lap then, and your hands tentatively begin to wander across whatever it is that has been presented to you. It feels square in shape, with some sort of ribbon tied around it. Already, you can sense Caracalla fidgeting next to you.

"May I open my eyes now?" you ask.

"Yes! Yes, please do," he responds excitedly, his head now resting on your shoulder.

If you are not careful, you will very likely end up with a lapful of him soon. You would certainly not complain, however.

You open your eyes, to find that whatever it is is indeed square, wrapped in a beautiful piece of cloth, and secured tightly with a piece of ribbon tied haphazardly into a bow. Caracalla's doing, of course, you think to yourself as your fingers touch the already unravelling knot.

"Open it," he insists, his arms winding around your waist to help you with the task.

You lightly tap his hands in admonishment, and he withdraws with a huff, his hands coming to rest on your hips instead.

You tug at the tails of the ribbon, and it falls away easily. Caracalla pulls it out of the way, and you gently tug at the fabric covering to reveal a book.

When you open it, your eyes widen.

The book is filled with drawings of flowers of every kind. Lavender, lilies, carnations, to name but a few.

Tears begin to well in your eyes as you carefully turn the pages. Each page is filled with such vivid detail. You take care not to rush through, giving each sketch the time it deserves.

Caracalla seems to think you have been silent for quite enough time now, and he squeezes at your hips impatiently.

"Well?" he prompts. "Do you like it? I made sure to seek out only the very best artists.”

A little breath escapes you, as you try to compose yourself to speak. It is of little use, and you can only nod instead. Your fingertips trace lightly across the pages, reverent in their touch.

"I know how this time of year torments you so," he murmurs. "And it pains me that there is little I can do. I hope that this will ease your sorrow in some small way."

You turn to him then. His bright gaze is fixed so intensely on you. It is no secret how he adores you.

Caracalla can quite often be something of a wild creature, and yet, there are moments, such as now, where you can clearly see the leader that he was born to be.

He is insightful in ways that others often miss, but you have learned to look further than the surface. To the wonderful man that lies beneath.

“Look at the last page,” he says, tapping his finger lightly against your hand.

You turn your attention back to the book, carefully turning to the last page as instructed.

You could not help the smile that spreads across your face even if you wanted to. On the last page, you find another drawing, albeit one that is very different from the others; as if this particular artist is not really an artist at all.

The page is filled with your beloved roses, and though it lacks the skill of the others before it, such love has been poured into every line that you cannot help the quiet sob that escapes you.

“It is perfect,” you manage to whisper, your voice small and trembling. “Thank you.”

Caracalla pulls you closer to him, his arms tight around your waist. You allow him to arrange you as he likes, meeting him with little resistance as you clutch the book tightly to your chest.

The winter gloom will still remain with you until the first blossoms of spring make their arrival once more, but now, in this very moment, as you lay in your beloved husband's arms, you feel as though you are in the midst of the most beautiful summer.

Taglist: @lover-rep-fanfic @punkrockmlchael @x-vadon @dubiousmetamorphosis @iitsmandii @medievalharlot @glassbxttless @getaapologist @fandom-princess-forevermore @robinbuckleywife

(You can join the taglist here! If you wish to be removed, please let me know!)

[done-with-the-shit]

[slight nsfw] thinking of a yandere! with severe mommy issues.

literally crazy.

you don't even look like his mom! there are nights you wonder how he's even able to project it onto you, not to say that you mind of course. he loves it when you push him to take care of himself, and he always asks you to give him a little peck on the cheek if he's done as you've asked.

it doesn't stop the two of you from getting sexual though. he'll whine against you whilst you, in his words, 'take care of him'. he loves it really, getting to feel like your little baby whilst you shower him with attention. he knows you're not his mom, and he doesn't want you to be, but with the fucked up behaviours of his mother he desires every form of affection that he can get from you.

if it means he has to beg? that's okay? you want him to cry and plead and hump your leg? you didn't need to ask. he'll do anything for his mommy, regardless of if you call it pathetic of him.

only for you. <3

[done-with-the-shit]

CATCHING- feelings for his sneak link!

...At first this was just another way to relax, y'know let out some stress from the akademia..but it seems the cold wanderer has gone soft..gn!reader...credits[kiyoshue] on insta

...the wanderer...

Something isn't right, it doesn't feel right. It's not his first time, you're not taking his virginity or some shit, hell- this isn't even the first time you two fucked. But something about the mood, this fuck session was...off.

Your thrusts were deep and- slow, which- wasn't entirely unusual maybe you're tired? You sometimes go slower when you start- no. Fuck, it was a few hours into your fuck session and the entire time you went so deep!

You went fast when he whined for it you kept at a pace most pleasurable to him. Why? It- it wasn't like he was your boyfriend or some shit. You didn't need to be all sappy and slow, hah, did you lose your touch?

Why're you touching him like- like he's delicate. Soft and- like you- fuck who do you think he is? He's the wanderer he doesn't need to be treated softly, he can handle it. He can fuck. He won't break he can endure it, he- so why does he like it. All soft 'n shit.

"Have y-you gone soft on mhm- me." He finally built up the courage to confront you about your weird..behaviour

Bringing your hand up, you touch his face, his cheek. You didn't slap him even though he flinched as his face tightened in preparation for that. "You're the one, who's gone fkin soft." He's crying. globs of tears flowing down his numb face, fuck. Why's he crying?? You aren't going rough so he has no excuse. Shit. Maybe he has gotten soft on you.

He- he doesn't know what to say- or do- shit. Are you gonna stop? Leave him like this? He's pretty useless if he can't handle you, fuck who would've imagined him, of all people melting into your soft touches crying over some basic decency.

"I- uh mm..hic..I don't-..uh..mm hic-" shit what is he doing? Looking up at you, trying to formulate a sentence as his stream of tears turn into rivers, drool dripping down his lips, as his mouth opens and closes like some damn fish. Looking up at you with his glossed-over eyes, his body seems to pull away from you, trying to curl up into himself.

Since your...arrangement started, there were only two rules, no catching feelings, and- no kissing on the lips, made to protect the first rule. You've wanted to break it many times yet never had the guts to cross that line, yet, here you are. Lips pressed flush against his as he pulls you back into him, closer. This time curling into you rather than himself, arms around your shoulder and back as you break away, shock prevalent in those glazed eyes, and a gling of something else too.

"fuuuck, wanderer. Maybe- hah..maybe I am the one going soft after all."

[done-with-the-shit]

Masterlist for Sub Character x DomReader

Bungou Stray Dogs

///Dazai Osamu///

It's too late..

///Chuuya Nakahara///

Relationship Headcanons

///Nikolai Gogol///

Mykolai bothers you while you're working

Assassination Classroom

///Karma Akabane///

Lots of love

Genshin Impact

///Venti///

Running away from Diluc with Venti

A challenge for dandelion wine

Hazbin Hotel

///Lucifer Morningstar///

Valentine's Day special

Luci and Al both want your attention~

///The Radio Demon///

Luci and Al both want your attention~

[done-with-the-shit]

That's so Wattpad coded bro.. why did we write like that!??😭😭

I tried to make a poster, it ended up looking like a fanfic cover you would see on Wattpad...

I imagine something like:

Dream: "y/n I think we should go our separate ways..."

Y/n: "but Dream-"

Dream: "what?" *He said his voice low and dangerous and sexy*

Y/n: "I have to tell you something... I'm pregnant with your baby!"

Dream: "what?!" *He growls and pull them closer kissing them in a sexy and dangerous and sexy and hot and mysterious way*

[done-with-the-shit]

Riddle Rosehearts as an omega

Leona - Azul - Kalim - Vil - Idia - Malleus

GN reader; sfw; word count: 2680; tw: bad parenting, insecurity

Riddle’s mother had many expectations of him even before he was born, she wanted an alpha son, someone who would be seen as strong, smart, reliable and able to provide, so to say that she was disappointed when her dream son was an omega wouldn’t be an understatement.

Still, she wanted a perfect son, while she raised him, she made him repress many of his omega instincts, and yet would growl at him if he acted “too alpha”. He was an omega, he needed to be submissive, obey her and his future mate’s orders, even then, she had a dream, Riddle simply didn’t fit in her fantasy.

Riddle is starved for perfection within himself, to fulfill his mother’s wishes. Because of that, he is a really suppressed omega that doesn’t know much about his own body, living in a little box, he would appreciate a partner that encourages him to be himself, someone able to provide stability and hold themselves, independency is attractive for him, but also someone that stays close to him, since he thrives for constancy.

Courting

He first noticed you during the first year’s entrance, how could he not? Always paying attention to everyone around him, taking a thorough glance to every potential new Heartslabyul student or anyone that has the ability to become a rival to the members of his dorm.

You had his attention since then, a magicless student in a magic school is bound to receive surveillance.

Though since your companions are known troublemakers, maybe his first opinion wasn't the best, he was fast to assume that behind the nice face and delicious scent was a malicious alpha, at this time, he couldn't separate bad behavior (regardless of how much quieter, well mannered and polite you were compared with Ace or other students) from a good character.

People who don't follow the rules are simply bad, period, that's what his mom always said.

He bit his tongue after he got to know you better.

Riddle starts to develop feelings after his overblot, he spends more time with you since then, you presented yourself as compassionate and kind, you are reliable, willing to help others, even offered your own space to house ace after he had stormed out before Riddle's overblot, even when you had barely enough for yourself.

You may not follow or know the rules of the queen, but clearly had your sense of morality, and that was fine by him. You were new to this world, you are smart for what he can tell, to learn a new universe from the start is not easy, and yet you are able to carry yourself. He can help, if anything! He is being more understandable and loosening his hold onto the rules, but he would happily teach you the basics, or even more, if you are willing to listen.

You saw his vulnerability without judgment, and then knowing more about you, he was shaken.

It took him a while to realize his feelings, how he was starved for your companionship, how his heart beat faster when he felt your presence and his cheeks reddened at the sound of your melodic voice. And then even more time for him to come to terms with it, falling in love doesn't make sense to him, to be open and more likely to commit mistakes in his flustered state, to lose his words and stutter when he tries to convey a thought to you.

But Riddle couldn't deny that despite being terrified of such powerful feeling, scared to lose himself to insanity when he would let you unknowingly slip in the queen's rules, he loved it all the same. Being next to you was worth it.

So he decided to start the courting process, or rather, try to subtly convince you to start.

After all, he was an omega, and according to his mother, the duty of courting falls onto the alphas, the only way for him to participate is by seducing you, though it was already a stretch, in his ideal situation he wouldn't have to do anything at all, like the omegas from his mothers stories when they sit still while receiving proposals from strong potential mates. But he had to get through your head what he wanted, he would learn everything about you, Riddle simply couldn't let someone unworthy get you! You are the perfect alpha, others would realize it soon enough, or maybe they already had, so he has to act quickly!

But honestly, he is really bad at giving a hint, he has no experience whatsoever, mostly what he knows is from classic literature books that his mother would force him to read, which since then he was disinterested in such topics. Riddle would invite you for tea and help you study, ask for Trey to prepare sweets for both of you and walk around the garden, all while fumbling with his sleeves and spreading his scent.

Maybe you noticed his behavior and decided to court back, or Ace caught onto it and told you so. He flusters and stutters when he receives his first courting gift, an inaudible purr deep in his chest, whatever gift he receives is treated with great care, placed on his desk in his dorm room and cleaned quite often.

When he gets more comfortable in the courtship he begins to give you gifts of his own, it's a slow process to deconstruct his once thoughts of the roles a omega and alpha should have, if it was according to the books he had read about the subject, it's no doubt his mother would request for you to pay a bridal price. Reassurance is a must to him, since his overblot he is trying to rediscover himself, to act by his wants instead of his mother's. He is glad to have someone by his side to give him support.

Riddle was lonely, before, being a puppet to his family, Trey's pity of the omega's upbringing rendering him incapable to properly help his friend, Chenya going to another school, the fear his dorm mates have of him. He appreciates finally having someone to lean on, though he would never admit it out loud, at least not when he is in control of his own mind and body.

His gifts include stationery, with deep red colors, a tea set decorated with roses, and copies of his old notebooks about the classes you are attending.

Growling

In his house, he wouldn't dare growling, his mother did it a lot, but she would reprimand him instantly if he did the same.

Like his beloved strawberry tarts, her punishments didn't stop him, not really, when he was home alone, he would hide under his bed and growl quietly. It was comforting, to be able to de-stress, to let go of his nerves in his growling and let the vibrations relax his tense body slowly, until he could breathe normally again and leave his spot.

He began to growl openly when he entered NRC, how could everyone be so disrespectful towards the queen of roses’ orders? He used his growling to subjugate anyone who presumed they were above the law of Heartslabyul. His sound loud and proud.

After his overblot, he started to conceal more, he still growls in warning, but much more menial compared to before.

With you he is softer, in the beginning of the courtship he would avoid growling altogether, after all, omega's are not allowed to growl to their alphas. But after your reassurance that him growling wouldn't change how you saw him, he relaxed his vocal cords once again.

He growls when you choose the wrong beverage of the day, he growls when he sees you writing the wrong answer in your homework, he growls when your scent fades from his belongings or when you are drowned in different smells, so much that you own is barely present. But most of his growls towards you have no biting, he is merely letting go of his frustrations and means no harm.

He doesn't expect you to be perfect, of course, but he wants a perfect relationship. Growling to you is simply a warning about something that can be easily fixed.

Purring

Riddle didn't purr before meeting you, while growing up he didn't have other omega's companions close to him, even more doubtful that his mother would do this for him under any circumstance. If he did, at any moment, purr next to his mother, he would suffer the consequences for that, this gentle sound reminded her of his inherited failure, of not being born alpha.

When he received his first courting gift from you he was caught off guard by the tremor in his chest, he first thought it was another form of growling, but the warm feeling blossoming in his heart was much unfamiliar from the heat of irritation.

Eventually noticing his purr box finally functioning, he tries to shut it down, in an irrational frustration that this might be a sign of weakness, growling at himself to make the sounds stop when he did start to purr while thinking about you.

But the outcome made him feel guilty, after all, his alpha thought that the courting gifts they were giving him were not approved by the omega.

Then he starts to research more, and finds out that purring is beneficial for alphas, both for mental health, since the sound of purring results in release of dopamine, and also for being a symbol of acceptance.

At first his purr was almost inaudible, just a slight tremor inside his body, and finished too quickly, eventually becoming louder and clearer, though the tone would still break in between or stop out of nowhere.

Nesting

Riddle never nested, never had somewhere to feel safe, the closest to it was the tight space under his bed that he used to hide while he was a child. Now in NRC it's not like he felt the need to start, he was comfortable with just the common items for a bedding.

But since knowing you he felt the necessity to include some of your belongings to his sleep place. Even before courting, while his feelings were unknown to him, he was obsessed with your scent, stepping just a bit too close to your personal space while still being appropriate to a public setting.

The first clothing that was added to his blankets and pillows was your jacket. You lended it to him on a rainy day, the material covering his head and body, his entire being melted and his vision whitened for a second, everything around him was consumed by you.

Riddle went to his dorm with the new article, he had promised to give it back to you the next time you two met, but seeing your jacket sprawled on his bed with the thought of returning it made something gnaw at his stomach. It felt wrong to part from your clothing, he possessively kept it close to him during the night, falling asleep with your scent in his lungs.

Even though the jacket lost your smell he still kept it, now enveloped with his own scent, it wasn't perfect, Riddle much preferred yours, but his heart warmed that something of you was now claimed by him.

If you decided to give him more items of yours, they all ended up on his bed, he didn't make a nest separate from his sleeping space, he liked to have your scent close by while he drifted off. And if you gifted him something made by hand, like a knitted blanket, he would treasure it more than anything else, it was a sign of your dedication to him, in his eyes, he was certainly being spoiled!

It would take a while until he invited you to see his nest, and when you do, please praise it. He is new to giving in to his omega instincts, show that you care and accept every part of him.

Marking

Riddle would start to mark you later in the courtship, his hands finding your tie before classes, using the scent gland on his wrist to spread his smell on the cloth. On bad days he would also scent the collar of your shirt, an obvious warning to other omegas to stay away.

He trusts you, he really does believe you only have eyes for him, but he can't help but feel frustrated if someone thinks they have a chance with you, or if someone concludes he isn't taking good care of you by not marking his alpha.

Riddle also permits you to give him the same treatment, he is fond of your smell close to his face, he can scent clearly on his own tie, he also likes it on his sleeves next to his wrist.

Subspace

Riddle gives you permission to enter his nest when you are in an official relationship, it surprises him how cotton filled his mind became when you laid in his safe space, with your warmth next to him with everything that belongs to both of you.

It's easy to coax him to a subspace in moments like this, when there's no responsibilities ahead and just your voices fill the room. Praise him, say that he did a great job, that he is a person to be admired, how strong he is, caress soothing circles with your fingers over the scent gland on his neck, kiss his face, the omega will be putty in your hands and let his most vulnerable part comes out.

Normally he is not one to ask for affection, preferring to give hints over outwardly requesting, and Riddle never shied away from any of your touches in private. But while in his subspace he feels comfortable enough to be demanding.

He will guide your hands to his hair, kiss your knuckles, make you touch his chest so you can feel his purring vibrate through his body and touch your foreheads together. Whimpering in betrayal if you refuse him.

Just let him rely on you in moments like that, he never had the opportunity before, permit him to discover his deepest desires and he will be loyal and stay by your side until the end of his life.

☽ ☼ ☾

Riddle glanced away from his bed, the culprit of the turmoil in his mind carefully put above his pillow. Your jacket, even wet from the rain, still has your scent covering the fabric.

He growled at himself, suppressing the urge to just lay his head on it, to fall asleep with something of yours to give him the sense of protection. This was so confusing to him. Why is just your jacket able to give him a feeling of safety?

Riddle blamed his omega hormones, they seem to be going haywire lately, especially when you were close by.

The housewarden was trying to convince himself, “it's just a jacket”, he whispered to himself while sitting on the bed and taking the article close to his face, he will wash it before returning it to you, it's the polite, correct way to deal with this situation.

And yet, his omega voice screamed at him, causing an annoying weight on his heart at the thought of parting from it. It demanded to be taken care of, to relinquish the gift his alpha gave him.

Gift? Alpha? He had none of that, Riddle shushed the thought before it became too much.

And yet, he couldn't follow through what his responsible mind was telling him, he gave in to his instincts, hugging your jacket in his sleep, that night and the next, and every other night after that.

Oh well, he isn't shameless enough to ask for more, he will make do with anything you give him for now, maybe the next night he is convinced to try hinting you to court him, or when your scent eventually fades away and his omega is left feeling empty, but for now, all the comforted he needed was within his arms.

[done-with-the-shit]

Having a close friendship with Adrian tepes.

Oh, you thought it was a mere ‘close’ friendship like trevor and sypha? No. You both are so close, you two act weird around each other.

Bullying each other most of the time, he says ‘have some class’ while playfully and purposefully looking at you up and dow with an exaggerated expression.

whenever you point at him, or simply having your hand palm his face, he bites.

He bites. I will state it again. He bites.

Okay, jokes all aside, you both are very close, he loves your company and mostly spends time with you, people nearly viewed you two as a couple despite the bicker and banter.

Well, you two were aware of the fact people assume you two as a couple, so you two took advantage of that, well.. playfully.

Empty threats, really, empty threats, he always says he’s going to kill you and eat you just to end up shoving his well cooked food down your throat.

Playful smacks, mostly from you though. oh, and playful flirting.

You both are like .. a mood swinging duo, you both playfully flirt then after 4 seconds, you both declare war on each other.

You wear his coat alot, usually when he does not have a coat rack to place his black coat on, you’re automatically his target.

cheek kisses, lots of them, honestly, you see why people view you two as a couple initially.

Sweet nicknames descending to diabolical nicknames.

in a best friend way, he loves to just say ‘i love you’ out of the blue, and holding your hand alot (like how he does with sypha.)

Most of your ‘arguments’ end up eating together quietly, sometimes he’d even feed you.

If you grew up in a household where you ate with your hands (i know i did.), you love feeding him with your hands, despite his fangs, you effortlessly brush through them, do not fall for those ‘i forgot the utensils’ from him.

When you two do activities together, you love singing along with him, maybe improvising some lyrics to the point you two become a Disney song probably.

no personal space, literally none. You are reading in the couch? Make space for him, he’s gonna be pressed up against your chest.

occasional sparring that ends up him chasing you down the castle or.. naps.

Regarding the esoteric side of him, you know most of it, you’re the first person he trusts if not sypha and trevor.

You both occasionally nap together, be it on the couch or his bed, really anywhere.

Feel free to add more to this! Honestly, i’d love to see these type of headcanons.

-FB

[done-with-the-shit]

Imagine a situation: MC returns home and their temperature is high, what will Nyx do? (The MC also say that "Everything is fine, it will pass," because tomorrow I have to go to work / study.)

MMM I think Nyx would kinda panic silently, just a bit, because he isn't sure about what to do in those situations aside from what he may have saw on TV lmao. First thing he does is rely on his (not so reliable) WikiHow...

Now the most reasonable thing to do would be to go to the nearest pharmacy and buy some medicine, but it's Nyx we're talking about.

He'd pout if you insist that it's nothing and think of college/work, and insists on you resting. If you're stubborn and don't, he'll get doubly stubbornly and lay on you until you get a nap. Meanwhile he'll most probably watch some nutritive soup tutorial...but he's convinced it isn't enough for you so he adds a little something lol. He genuinely thinks he'll make you feel better and he put on sooo much effort, so you'll drink it all, right? ^^ can't promise it tastes good tho

[done-with-the-shit]

Lovesick bubbly hubby x fem reader

ミ☆ Slice of Life

♥︎ Syno: Narin and you had a baby, and it's a boy! ♥︎ Warnings: bxg but matriarchal themes e.g. mpreg mentions! Fluff and lots of it and a bit of spice too..;) ♥︎ previous

If someone had told Narin how different his life would be now, he would pause, blink, and then smile. Because they’d be absolutely right.

In the small moments carved out of his busy routine, as your dearest, only, and unquestionably prettiest husband of the century, and now, as a papa too, Narin finds himself glowing. He’s the proud father of the cutest baby alive: Mylo. Your son. His son. A perfect blend of everything he finds magical in this world. From this marriage to the beautiful home you’ve built together, Narin can’t stop thanking God.

Even his parents, especially his father, noticed a subtle shift in him, something like maturity. Narin, the boy who once barely finished assignments on time, now insists on knowing every detail about how to feed Mylo, how to burp him, how to swaddle him just right, how to lull him to sleep, and still find time to cook your favorite meals.

You and his parents have gently suggested hiring a maid, just to ease the pressure.

But Narin? Absolutely not.

"Are you kidding!? A MAID!? What if he flirts with you!? What if he tries to seduce you while I’m in the nursery, elbow-deep in diaper duty? DON'T EVER SAY THAT!" he’d shriek and break stuff, already imagining dramatic betrayal scenarios.

No stranger was stepping into this home. This sanctuary. His wife, his baby, his perfect little life, he was going to protect it with every inch of glittery, sleep-deprived resolve he had.

Speaking of...

🍭 "Do I look fat? Have I changed a lot? Have I lost the baby weight or no-"

"My little angel, cupcake, you’re perfect as alwa-"

"YOU ALWAYS SAY THAT!"

And there come the tears.

As if cradling Mylo and keeping him quiet wasn’t enough already. One wrong movement and that baby will erupt. Two crying babies? Definitely not what you signed up for after coming home completely knackered.

"I say that 'cause it’s true, babe!"

"Oh really?! Then why did your brother TAUNT me about-"

"I told you to ignore what my family says! Why do you always listen to them-"

Insert loud wailing from Mylo.

Perfect timing.

"Shh, it's okay. Your father is just having a moment-"

"EXCUSE ME?!"

Oh no.

His routine is even more exciting for him now! From you cuddling them both in the morning for at least an hour, showering your boys with kisses, to him getting himself and Mylo ready before you come back from work-

Absolute heaven.

And do you think that after having a baby, he lost his own flair? That cunning, minxy flair? Think again.

🍭 He leans back into your chest as you cuddle him closer, your arms wrapped around him and Mylo nestled peacefully on his lap. Narin hums softly, inhaling the familiar scent of his beauty products and the sweet, distinct baby smell clinging to Mylo’s blanket.

"How’s work going, Coco? I hate seeing you… work yourself this much…" he murmurs, his fingers absentmindedly stroking Mylo’s tiny sock-covered foot. But you...

You weren't listening. Too busy nuzzling his neck and stpping yourself from devouring him right then and there.

"I mean, I get it, you’re amazing and a hard working woman, wife and all, but maybe... maybe just lie down here? Just for a bit? On me?" he whispers, tilting his head back to look at you with those wide, pleading eyes. "I promise I won’t move. Not even a twitch."

The way he's acting all meek--God, he's gonna get it.

He shifts slightly so the blanket covers your legs too. "I even warmed your favorite one. See? I planned this nap. It’s romantic."

Then, a pause.

"...Unless you’re leaving again. Are you leaving again?" His voice wobbles, and his lower lip starts to jut out, slowly, dramatically.

That pout. That ridiculous, practiced, award-winning househusband pout.

If you even hint at standing up, he’ll clutch your sleeve like a Victorian widower watching his love go off to war.

"Mhm...who said anything bout' leaving, mhm?."

You shift slightly behind him, your chin resting on his shoulder, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

"Y’know," you murmur, "for someone who says he’s too tired for anything but naptime, you sure know how to trap me under a warm blanket like you’ve got an agenda."

Narin gasps, actually gasps, his hand flying to his chest like you accused him of a crime.

"Excuse me?! I’m a sweet, innocent papa trying to get his hardworking wife to nap! How dare you-"

You trail a finger down the curve of his waist, slow enough to make him shiver.

"Mmhm. Innocent, huh? That why you keep wearing those silk pajama pants around me like you don’t know what they do to my self-control?" You gave the side of his hip a firm swat.

Narin’s cheeks go red immediately, cherry blossom red.

"Th-they’re just comfy! And breathable! And postpartum-friendly!” he stammers, clutching Mylo like a tiny shield. "Besides, I-I don’t control how good I look in them, okay?!”

You smirk against his neck. "Sure you don’t."

He lets out a tiny squeak, torn between wanting to argue and silently bask in the fact that you’re still that into him, he keeps fussing over, and the fact that he hasn’t done his skincare routine in two days.

You hum against his skin, and then, without warning, press a slow, deliberate kisses to the side of his neck. Just below his ear. Right where you know it’ll make him flinch and curl his toes.

Narin freezes.

You feel his whole body tense in your arms, his breath catching in his throat like a cartoon character short-circuiting.

"H-Hey… hey-C-coco…" he whines, his voice high and wobbly. “You c-can’t just-! I’m holding the baby!"

Ignoring him, you kiss him again softly on his neck, biting in between.

His head tips back against your shoulder, eyes fluttering shut, lips parted in surrender.

“You missed me?” he breathes out.

You grin. "Of course...so much, my doll...."

Another kiss, this time to his cheek, and then one right at the corner of his mouth. His fingers curl tightly around Mylo’s blanket like it’s the only thing keeping him from completely melting.

You finally press a rougher kiss to his lips full of passion to shut his quiet whining. He doesn’t even move at first, just sighs into it like it’s the only thing keeping him alive, letting you bite and suck his pouty plump, fruity lips.

When you pull back, he’s blinking up at you with that dazed, heart-eyed look.

"…Okay," he says, dreamy and breathless. "Maybe I do have an agenda."

Damn right he always did, from the moment you stepped in the house, with your sleeves rolled up and the loose tie.

But of course, this little vixen of yours would see your child as a perfect tool to manipulate you. Like, duh. As if groveling to him alone wasn’t humiliating enough, now you’ve got two people to apologize to: one with dramatic eyeliner and the other in a fluffy cat onesie. And honestly? It scares you. The way Narin can just pack a bag and threaten to take Mylo to his parents’ place the second he’s mad. You’re never sure if he fully understands the kind of hurt that leaves behind, or if he does, and simply doesn’t care. It only took one real scolding from you, one sharp, serious reprimand, for him to shrink back, eyes wide and glistening, murmuring apologies with shaking hands. He hasn't dared to do it again since. Not openly, at least. But deep down, he’d been a little pleased. Pleased to discover a weakness in you. That just by giving you a son, he’d carved himself into your life so deeply that no matter how angry, how exhausted, how heartbroken you got... he’d always be a permanent fixture. You weren’t just his love now. You were bound.

🍭You unlock the door, stepping in with tired shoulders and your work bag slung low. The house smells like baby lotion, leftover pasta, and ....suspicious amounts of drama.

Silence.

Too much silence.

Then you spot them, curled up on the couch. Narin’s in his robe, hair up in a little bun, Mylo nestled in his lap with his tiny face squished against his father’s chest.

Narin doesn’t even look at you.

"Oh," he says. Flat. Chilly. "Look who decided to come home."

You blink. "Babe, I told you I had a late meeting-"

He holds up a hand, still not facing you. "No, no. You don’t get to ‘babe’ me right now. We had plans. Mylo and I were going to watch that cheesy prince movie together, and I made themed snacks. Themed, COCO! Do you realize the effort in that?!"

You try to step closer, but he scoots dramatically to the side, shielding Mylo’s ear like he’s protecting a witness.

"Don’t talk to him," Narin says in a stage whisper. "He doesn’t want to hear it. Do you, Mylo?"

Mylo just hiccups and chews on Narin’s robe tie.

"That’s right," Narin murmurs, leaning down conspiratorially. "She abandoned us. Left us to suffer. Alone. No goodnight kisses, no evening cuddles. And we looked so cute today too, didn’t we?"

"Narin-"

"Shh." He gently taps Mylo’s lips with a finger. "Don’t say anything to her, baby. Silence is power."

"You are coaching our son against me again?"

Narin gasps theatrically, clutching Mylo to his chest. "Cover your ears, baby. She’s using the Voice. That rough, work-weary, tempting Voice that ruins our boundaries."

Mylo lets out a giggle.

Narin gasps. "Traitor."

You try not to laugh as you make your way to the couch and lean over, kissing both of their foreheads in one go. "I’ll bribe you both with cookies and twenty minutes of undivided attention if you forgive me."

Narin narrows his eyes.

"…Fifteen minutes of forehead kisses."

"Deal."

"Only cuz', you are hot."

You grinned. "I know."

He slides you a smug, victorious grin while Mylo coos and shoves his foot in your face anyway.

Great coaching, no doubt.

[done-with-the-shit]

[done-with-the-shit]

Concept: Yandere with no soulmate

Name: Kanemoto Haruto

Age: 20

Height: 5'7

Occupation: student, part timer

Hobbies: Cat cradles (like shockingly good) , hand stitching, scrapbooking, instrument playing

In japanese culture red strings of fate are said to connect those meant to meet each other. While these are mostly metaphorical, Haruto was born with the strange ability to both see and interact with these threads.

Unfortunately this means he's acutely aware of the fact he has no red string of his own, none tied to his own pinky fingers. This paired with a lack of parental affection has left him quite apathetic and desperate for human connection. So in his most selfish times, he will cut someone's string, perhaps out of jealousy or spite, disconnecting possible soulmates. Or retying them to others. Or even attaching people to himself out of greediness for his own connection. However, those cut strings have to be re attached with knots, which unlike the original connection can come undone. Because of this, most of his artificial connections tend to naturally fall away, leaving him alone again.

[done-with-the-shit]

LUK AT LUKA'S ASS XP

(i like how this turned out -v-)