#Eon is TALL

[snowstudios1]

Meet the Ethernia Family.

[lonicera-edulis]

Can't figure out how to group them 😵‍💫 Too many characters.

[wodania]

Sharing some highlights from my knight of the seven kingdoms read through and perhaps I’m just sensitive but this made me cryyy.

Egg complains to Dunk that Ser Bennis is cruel to him, yet Dunk shrugs it off for the most part. That’s just how Ser Bennis is, it’s just his personality. Egg has not lived in the real world, he likely doesn’t understand. Yet when Egg vocally tells Dunk that Ser Bennis pinches him, and how terrible it makes him feel, it causes Dunk to realize that Ser Bennis abused Dunk in this very way too. He’s buried it deep down, was too frightened to tell Ser Arlan. But Egg feels comfortable enough to tell Dunk exactly how he feels, and Dunk realizes that how he feels is exactly how Dunk felt all those years ago, he was just unable to put it into words and therefore forgot about it until now.

“He would pinch me so hard under the arm it would leave bruises. His fingers felt like iron pincers, but I never told Ser Arlan.” That’s so disturbing to me, under the arm too? To hide the bruises he left? Like yeah he isn’t beating him but he’s still hurting a small (not quite small for dunk but he’s just super tall) child so that they’ll be submissive. A small child that isn’t even yours, but your coworkers.

[nikki-tine]

Just oooone more thing to add before I get some sleep:

My Deitysonas are not exempt from being ticklish.~

If you want to utterly destroy a god with tickles, then my Deitysonas are very much fitting that criteria :3

[so-very-small]

me: this story does not need size difference. it’s complete without it, already has enough worldbuilding to explain without adding size to it, and it would detract from the plot

also me: yes. but Tall Villain

[minkymeatshop]

covers face in both hands and makes a very long and annoyed sound

[monstersflashlight]

Kidnapped by a dragon

Dragon x fem!reader || Tail play, size difference || TW: Kidnapping

A/N: When I say dragon I’m not talking humanoid dragon here, I’m talking full on dragon. Monster from mythology that is tall as a house and you are a tiny little human against him. Also, this is a bit more “romantic” than my other filthy stores. This was inspired by the Russian movie “I am dragon”, which you all should watch if you haven’t.

You were going to marry, your husband was a bad man, but you had to pay your debt of your family in some way. You made peace with it, you weren’t happy, you didn’t like the idea of doing it, but it had to be done. Nobody, not even you, was expecting a dragon to take you away, to kidnap you and leave you in a deserted island.

You were scared for what felt like eons, he didn’t try to scare you on purpose, but every time he talked, his guttural voice made you cry out in fear. You shivered like a leaf every time he showed up, until he decided to drop whatever food he got right at the entrance of the cave you claimed as yours. He made sure you were surrounded by gold, precious gems and all the luxuries the world could offer. But you? You were one of the treasures. Or at least that’s what the dragon told you. He was patient, you were scared.

But at some point, things changed.

Little by little he started leaving little gifts for you. You ignored most of the gold and gems, what were you supposed to do with those in a desert island anyway? But every time he brought you flowers, delicious food, or luxurious clothes, you warmed a bit more to him. You started to feel compelled to him. Started to wish he didn’t fly away as soon as he left whatever he brought you that day.

So you waited, and when he arrived the next day, you talked to him. And talked. And talked. You two developed some kind of friendship, companionship. You felt drawn to him, and he treated you like the most precious treasure on his whole hoard. You felt cherished by a dragon like you never felt by humans.

It didn’t take you long before you were feeling more than friendship for the monster. He flew you around, he allowed you to lay on his back as he walked around the island. You started to feel hot in your lower belly every time he called your name or talked to you for a bit. You understood those feelings were supposed to be just between a wife and a husband, but who was he if not your captor. You shouldn’t be feeling aroused because of him, he wasn’t even human. But that didn’t change how wet his voice got you. How tempting his scales looked. You couldn’t help yourself as you touched yourself at night thinking about how his skin would feel against your tiny body.

And that was exactly what you were doing one random afternoon. You were touching yourself in what your cave, naked and sprawled on top of a rock, the sun hitting your skin in the most amazing way. And then you heard the telltale sound of his wings. Your eyes opened fast and scared for a second. Other times he left, he was away for hours, even days, you thought you had time. But apparently he didn’t go far before he was back at the island, watching you intensely as you tried to cover your naked body, the task was fruitless, you had barely a sheet to cover yourself out there.

“Go away!” You screamed, your face hot and your embarrassment fresh.

“No.” His words sounded final. “You are going to let me see you, little treasure.” It was clear what he was asking. He was ordering, and your blood ran a bit hotter because of it. He never acted so commanding to you, he always tried to accommodate your needs and your human-ness. But now? Now he looked more like a monster like ever before.

“Wh-what?” You asked, confused and turned on, the prove of your arousal still sticky on your fingers.

“You are gonna take that cloth away, or I will. And then you are going to open those pretty human legs and let me see your tiny human cunt.” His words cut deep into your body, a new wave of arousal hitting you.

“N-no!” You responded, shaking your head. You really wanted to say yes, but that would be shameful, wouldn’t it? You couldn’t be aroused by a dragon. You couldn’t touch your most vulnerable flesh in front of a monster. But a spark of interest and anticipation was igniting inside of you.

“Yes. Don’t make me ask twice.”

“You didn’t ask.” You remarked, being intentionally obtuse. He didn’t like that. He growled and took your flimsy cover away, shredding it to pieces as he liked his pointy teeth. A rush of adrenaline ran through your body as you stood there, not able to cover yourself with your arms, just watching him as he repeated: “Open those pretty human legs and let me watch.”

You complied, telling yourself he was forcing you to do it, but deep down you knew it was a lie. You wanted to do it. You wanted him to watch you touch yourself. To make him desire you the same way you desired him.

“Keep doing what you were doing before I arrived.” He instructed.

Your hand traveled down your stomach, slowly, teasing yourself with careful fingers. Torturing him just a little bit. He growled at you, your blood pumping inside your veins so hard you could barely hear it. Your right hand was playing with your nipple, rolling it between your fingers. Tiny little moans were escaping your mouth as you played your body.

When your left hand parted sightly your folds, his eyes focused on your cunt, your pussy dripping. He lowered his head until he was barely a foot away, his nostrils flaring as he took your smell in. He could see how wet you were, you knew he could. He was so close. And that excited you. Your fingers circled your clit, slowly, your eyes never leaving his face right in front of you. He was so big. His head was easily as big as your whole body. You were a tiny human compared to his giant monstrous form.

He growled again, his big tongue darting out and licking your whole pussy in a fast swipe. You screamed. The texture of his tongue was harsh against your flesh, but hot, so fucking hot.

You kept fingering yourself, every once in a while he would blow a scolding breath, heat filling you as it made contact with your exposed cunt. Your fingers disappearing inside of you over and over, making the filthiest wet sounds.

But when you whispered his name as a plea, that forbidden name that villagers gave him, he lost it. He grabbed your body like you were a doll, so tiny in his claws that you felt like he could break you like a twig. That turned you on. You knew you shouldn’t be so hot about him being a literal monster, but you couldn’t help yourself as he manhandled you, sitting you on his tail. It was so big, your legs didn’t touch the ground at each side of it. But your pussy made direct contact with his lizard like skin.

“Ride it.” He moved your body against his tail, the scales and bumps over it rubbing against your pussy in the most tantalizing way. “What a good little treasure.” He murmured, his voice so deep that made your whole body convulse, your hips moving on their own accord. His skin was hot under you, your legs caging his tail and taking your pleasure off him as he observed you. His eyes were burning as he took you in.

“Come on, treasure. Come for me.” His voice went so low it resonated against his body, making his tail vibrate under the cadence. That’s all it took. Two seconds later, you were arching your back, your clit rubbing against the scales of his tail as your juices made the most obscene sound against his skin. Your whole body convulsed for a few seconds as he grunted, his claws gracing your ass as he kept moving your hips, drawing your pleasure higher.

You almost fell off his tail when your orgasm ended, aftershocks going through your body. He caught you in his clawed hands, cradling you against his neck as he took flight. “You are the most precious treasure in all my hoard.” You blushed, completely spent, as he led you to his lair.

[medusas-vengeance]

I AM ON MY KNEES BEGGING WOMEN TO STOP MOTHERING MEN AND DOING THEIR CHORES. PLEASE STOP.

Yesterday I was watching a podcast and the topic of saunas came up. This man said that a man was talking to him and other men about how much he hates his wife. But he doesn't want to divorce her because she does his laundry. And then men will complain about how women initiate majority of divorces. Yes, sir, that's because you're the only one benefiting from the marriage. Getting a divorce wouldn't benefit you.

Not too long ago I saw a man post a video on TikTok about how he knew his girlfriend was the one when he invited her over to his dirty apartment and she immediately started cleaning his apartment.

And why are women doing chores whilst sick, pregnant or taking care of a newborn??? HOLY SHT

It's more expensive for him to hire a maid, a cook, prostitute etc when he can get a woman to do it for free. Men have been exploiting women's labour for eons. Men don't even recognize the labour women are doing for them. Which is why it's invisible labour. They belittle it and view it as something that is expected of a woman and is easy to do yet won't do it themselves. But as a woman, don't you dare have preferences. Don't you dare ask for a tall, financially secure man or romantic loving relationship etc.

[dogbites-puppylove]

Devil Sins

The Batfam and the deadly sin that colors their life, and the virtue of their darling

TW:  Yandere behavior (obsession, possessive behavior and unhealthy ideations), mention of suicide ideation and s/h as well as gore

Tags: Yandere! Batfam x reader

Bruce Wayne: Pride    

Within Gotham, it's common knowledge that when crimes wretched hands come down to slit your neck you do not clasp your hands and pray to God, no - you whisper your tears into a puddle of blood and give your reverence to hold out for Batman. It is under no exaggeration that divinity in the cursed city leaves justice to crumbled bones and puddles of teeth and tongue, and its cruel master in the form of a man with no face. It's fitting, for a city of corruption and bile. Gotham’s god is its dark knight with steel for bones and scripture of flesh, man made Godhood with flawed creation in its wake. But man has never been meant to hold godhood, the pathway of immortals too cruel and demanding, even with those who have wielded its deadly blade of eons it rips into them. Tearing at seams and breaking into them until their pieces can be glorified in the stained windows of churches.     

Batman is divinity within mortal confines. There have been prayers and hymns in his name, retribution in his name and the painful dependency of creator and creation waged on him. Batman is an entity that is nothing but iron and brimstone, unbending and unfeeling, but Bruce Wayne, the man who created this creature whose only split from being a monster is a bloodied and beaten code, is painfully human. He feels each failure weigh on him, aging him past his own casket and decaying him even as he still breathes, it cradles his head during the night and whispers the screams of those he has watched fall.

Every time Batman stands tall, Bruce can feel something small and young turn decrepit and vile in his stomach until it erupts from him like bile from the back of his throat. He thinks it must be the humanity of a son who in truth, died with his parents in that alley. It slices his open, cutting his flesh to ribbons, and gorges itself on his organs only to fill him up with something inhuman. It's with bated breath with lungs that have been clouded with smog, that he waits for Batman to finally rule Bruce Wayne unfit and strangle him entirely.   

Darling: Humility

The Darling acts as the humility to his pride, dragging him to his knees so archaically Batman shrivels in your presence. You are his humanity given form, the antithesis to his claim of being the perfect hero. You lead him by the nose, walking him on a leash so flawlessly he thinks you might have been born just to keep him grounded. Every scrape or bruise seems to repel the mission Batman strives for and replaces it with nothing, but a man stricken that he hadn’t done better. Each burn or scrape, even a paper cut drives guilt into him and brings a physical ache to his body like you had beaten him with a bat. Each mark burns the shame of a failed hero and leaves only the pathetic begs and whines of a man that can only be human. 

If he could, he would spend his days by your side, affected by the intrinsic need to provide for you, leaving you physically and mentally unable and robbed of the ability to want. It's a desire that burns molten in his chest and drips down his limbs, it burns and aches at him as if trying to rip out of his chest and lick at your hand like a depraved dog. He would do anything for you, would render the world silent, bring you a heart on a platter, violate himself so terribly he could not know anything but his adoration of your presence and yet it still feels inadequate. A simple compliment from you leaves him bereft of ambition and scorn, leaving him on his hands clasped in prayer. 

Batman may have been his creation, but Bruce Wayne is your own tool, use him to get what you want, change him for your own needs just keep him at hand. He'll be loyally and wholly (obsessively and blindly, almost rabid) yours. God bends to nobody's will, but Bruce Wayne knows down to the electrons snapping in his synapse that his place in this world is by your side, whether you point, whenever you deem fit. You’re his god, and himself nothing but a faithful follower. 

Richard Grayson: Lust

Perhaps born from watching his parents, who should have been a constant, die in front of him a painful death filled with tourists' eyes and misplaced faith, right outside of his fingers grasps Dick has an inherent need to feel. For him, want runs in his skin like a conscious, whispering what he craves, giving voice to a voracity so impossible that it turns physical. He has known denial from the start, whether it be the blood of the man who stole his parents, a want that made his tongue ache and crawled at his ribs until his bones crackled, or the sweeter craving of a relationship, something that watered at his mouth. Want is something that has haunted him, growing obsessively until it reached lust.

Though sexual desire, of course, is something that is often attributed to it, it's not the only way lust presents itself. For Dick, it appears when he closes enough to reach out and feel flesh on his own, something tangible and it shocks him like a bad dog until he reaches out to soothe his skin. It appears in the dead of night when he can feel no other warmth than his blankets, even as he arches out and reaches pathetically into the air. It is a call of pathetic loneliness, so strong that when his younger brothers are cuddled drowning within him it is to try and get rid of the sudden echo, to try and merge them into one, until he is no longer Dick Grayson, and somehow a part of them. Somewhere in between the heat of a lover and the loyalty of a son, he realizes that being a part of a couple isn’t enough.

He wants like a man starved, all instinct and need, like a child who has been ripped out of his mother’s grasp before she has fed him fully, there is always something he’s not quite satisfied with. What he truly craves is a constant, a union, melting himself, and another so they can be poured into the same mold and make something new, indistinguishable from the other. And despite the carnal behavior of his want, he knows how to get it. He smiles full of charisma, grins with the sun and serenades with the moon to get his fixes, but each one leaves him starved, stricken for more. Like a bad addiction.

Darling: Chastity    

The darling brings a chastity in his life, though not to say he wants less, but in the way a husband will fully devote himself to their wife. It’s the deceptive nature of a couple announcing a pregnancy and accidentally alluding to nights spent in bed. The darling hits a spot for him that leaves him mind numbingly euphoric, like a high that is reached after weeks and weeks of suspension. Every kiss has him feral, no better than an animal and chasing after you, every negligence has him whining by your feet, clinging to you. He grows incredibly dependent on your presence, on your touch and everything beneath. 

With you his sharp mind bleeds into instinct, and the charisma he wields to pry himself into others good graces is left uselessly at the door. It’s a delusional dreamy trance, every hug sends him tumbling down further and further until his panting against your neck and thinking of nothing but you, you, you. He can feel himself slipping into your existence, swearing he can taste the coffee you drank in the morning, and can feel every cut or bruise you get without him present. His want for you is wet, sticky and binding, threatening to pull you over until you lose your mind along with him. 

It’s almost laughable how pliant he is with you, a touch to his arm can have him following you over a cliff, a peck to the cheek and suddenly his on your lap whining for more. For all he is hard and angry, full of vigilante fights and bruised skin you wouldn’t even have to hurt him to kill him. With you, he can indulge himself fully, so much so that he wants no other. In fact any other touch leaves him lacking, so utterly entranced by you that he can no longer feel another’s skin unless it’s yours.  To him, his darling and himself cannot be separated, they won’t go down in history but their names, but by the title for lovers. Nothing to define themselves but their own love. 

Jason Todd: Wrath

Anger, to Jason, is an old friend that lives in his bones and whispers in his ears with every movement. He has used it well his entire life, a melting anger of forged iron against his father to keep him defiant, a indigent anger filled with a son's tears for his mother, the roar of inequality and social class that steals from the batmobile and the blinding and rash rush that leaves him as robin. It’s at first a soft motivation that keeps him alive, any good street rat knows, or any street rat still breathing that to stop means you’re as good as dead. He covets his rage, it's youthful and idealistic and keeps his heart beating.

Of course, after the pit (after being beaten to death in a warehouse of gasoline and gunpowder, watching his own blood relax as he’s robbed of his own, coming back ripping from his own skin and drowned in green only to find out his father-father-had left him unavenged. Left him replaced and gone) his anger has grown into something primordial. Too old to be Jason’s but so familiar he leans into it. It grows from his bones like ivy and twigs, poking out against his flesh and sewing itself under his skin so that the slightest breach sends it out to take root.  Jason’s wrath is something that threatens to leave him choking blood, and yet it keeps him alive with the threat of keeping him running forever. It is the anger of a child on the poster who has never been found, and their stomach full of worms that burrows into his own. The tears of a case under the corrupt policeman’s file, and the ghosts scream in a house empty of their future. It’s all those who have ever been a statistic (as he has been) boiling over under his skin. Because Jason knows the wrath of the dead and unavenged intimately, it burns his memories in green and leaves his chest heaving with permanent mourning of mothers whose children were robbed and never found. It threatens to scratch away from the inside of his ribs until its nails finally rip him open in a mocking autopsy and wail into Gotham’s plugged ears.

Jason's violence, his actions and words, the bullets in his guns and glare under the hood are all reactions to this. As long as the world spins, as long as humans turn a blind eye to victims, and allow the injustice of the world to mold them, he will move. All his actions are an answer, a bullet through a man's cranium, the vengeance of a young girl with a ripped dress, a severed head, the relief of a child who watches their family bleed out for powdered death. Each and every shout of Red Hood, every puddle of blood he coats the ground on proof that he is still moving. Because Jason’s wrath is old and an answer, to the boy in the warehouse, to the boy in the ground and mounted not as a son but a soldier. It’s a solution to the fear that manipulates his chest that should he stop moving he’d be buried again. 

Darling: Patience

Jason is a man of action and violence, fear turned into anger because above all he is a man cursed with empathy. With his darling the fear that curdles his insides soothes, like a mother rubbing her child’s stomach and singing a special song to keep the pain away. The world will keep moving regardless of him taking a break, and he has the blinding panic of staying in time, and yet his darling is a perfect encapsulation of time. Something preserved beautifully, a painting stuck in motion, the words on his books that are remembered through words and tongue. The tint of red becomes a pastel pink, and suddenly he’s so, so weak.

With his darling he closes his eyes without fear of waking up decaying. A sweep of your hand against his cheek will pull a sigh of pleasure from his throat suddenly free of phlegm and blood, even a harsh hit will feel divine. His darling functions as a sort of “moment” , something trapped in time and solely for Jason. Much like opening a book, the story is forever clashing but the words stay all the same, waiting for the reader. It’s with you the anger that has kept him moving for so long, washed away, like the dirt clinging to his skin under water. It's freeing and leaves him shakily bare, with you he weeps, with you he grows and stays forever yours. You are life itself, something ancient and timeless at the same time. The nostalgia of losing a tooth and excitement of a birthday party wrapped into tender song and softer skin.  

It’s a common sight to see him cry when with you, prayer in the form of tears that are just for you. He spends his days in a lovestruck haze, almost as if he’s been drugged. For Jason there is no constant, no surety but you. He would do anything to keep you perfect, safe and just as you always are. He'll care for you much like a beloved heirloom, of course he loves you with a severance that would scare most, but you are something he seeks to preserve. Nothing can hurt you, will hurt you, you’ll remain untouched until you reach out yourself. Your presence alone is enough for him to intoxicate himself with, bask in forever. But should you give I’m a sliver of your attention, allow him to enter your perfect little world? He’ll be lost forever.

Tim Drake: Gluttony

The most intimate feeling Tim knows is hunger, perhaps not for food but for anything and everything else. Obsession is his most familiar form of companionship, stuffing picture after picture of his object of affection until he can drown in them. In his house of echoing walls and emptiness he comes to emulate it. He feels hollowness in his soul, some nights he wonders if he took a knife to his own side what he would find. Would it be organs? Perhaps a heart? Or would it be the void that has eaten all that made him and left him with a constant hunger to fill himself with? For a time, he manages to satiate himself with Batman and Robin, stalking and drinking them in over and over until one day it's stolen and left him with nausea so terrible. (And Tim still remembers the rawness of his skin as he is thrashing in his room, his throat bleeding from his wails of a boy he never met)

The more he gets the more he hungers, it’s something horrific and apathetic that leads him to chasing after his own fill. Case after case solved, fact after fact filtered and sorted through, Tim is insatiable. Like a well oiled machine, the fuel that keeps him going only works to find more fuel, it's a never-ending cycle of something that can no longer be deemed as human. Half of this can be attributed to the fact that it’s all the same to him, an angelic charity to a garish murder eh takes them and feasts on them all the sometime efficiency is more of a hook then anything, pulling others in so he can feast on them, devouring their mannerisms and habits, licking up and chewing on their thoughts until there nothing left of them. 

One could blame this on the fact that the identity of “Tim Drake'' has never really been sought out, so there’s no substance to him. Something useless will obviously stay shiny, clean and unused, it's logical in all the ways it makes Tim want to throw a tantrum. It drives his mouth to salivate until he’s drooling over another function he can consume, another person he can mirror, another morsel to disappear within himself. And yet with each new meal he can only feel the void echo back louder, as if he had never eaten at all. Like a fire consuming too much wood that it withers out in anger, as if the trees that had been cut never existed in the first place. It threatens to force Tim to disappear forever.

Darling: Temperance

The temperance his darling offers is in the form of a craving rather than actual fulfillment. After just his first taste of you, Tim has been enraptured for you, nothing comes close to your unique temperament, your reactions, everything that makes you, you. You leave his mouth watering for more, nothing else can settle against his tongue the way you can, nothing can mimic the way you fill his head with static and leave him filled to the brim. He takes whatever kindness you give him and uses it as an invitation to learn more about you, an invitation to bear himself fully. Any preference you have, a favorite color or show, even general food preference will settle into Tim as if it had been his all along. Where he used to drink black coffee, has grown a taste for your favorite creamer, your playlist will be playing in the back of his head as he switches through W.E. work, it’s all you, you, you. Like a puzzle finally coming together,

Tim’s brain finally quiets down and is forced to digest. Any sort of attention you give him is a five course meal, any scorn is just as quickly devoured. You don’t quite stop the habit of obsession, but you give it direction. Tim has never known such direct want until you, a den he has no plans to stop his indulgent habits. He is ravenous for anything you toss to him, your voice, a text, an opinion, even just a little note, whatever you do stays, It’s a blessing and a curse. Because while the hunger pangs back in your presence, now nothing else can even come close to keeping him occupied.

He’ll obsess over you, crafting himself to be your perfect companion just so he can stay by your side and continue feeding. Everything in your life has a shade of him, your job, your house, your hobbies, even your electronics, each one a special situation he created to have you just a bit closer. Nothing else can come close to you, he’ll make sure you're well taken care of, all he asks in return is you.

Damian Wayne: Envy

Damian’s life is a unique contradiction. He was born the sole inheritor of a Thorne he is meant to fight for, something only he can own and yet is so unworthy he is kept from it. It forces him into a sense of jealousy, inadequacy and egregious entitlement. He could have anything he needs, but only as long as he earns it, it gives him a longing sense of feeling everything is out of his reach. That even should he hold the sword in his hands it cannot be called his. Not in the way a dog can call its food their own, and not in the way a writer can crow over their own creation. It leaves him painfully envious of others, of their right to their own possession, it leaves him vicious and poisonous. Part of the reason he squirrels away animals with so much intent, is because they’d be “His.” He’s their sole owner, and as beings with a conscience they can prove their loyalty. 

His envy leaves him with harsh words and even deadlier scars, it forces him into a fine weapon and while it’s an ideal state for an heir it’s a broken state for a child. It leaves the boy wanting, fearful and anxious. His envy is young and childish, something not allowed, and it’s something weaponized. It’s part of the reason he defends the title of robin so freckly, not only because he believes himself right, but because it’s his in way the throne cannot be. Because it’s not a legacy he’s supposed to take, it's one he steals from himself. It’s his, in a way nothing has been since he first cried from the pit.

But even then, the title of partner that so many others have worn, cannot soothe the constant ire, the lashing out that comes with fear of being replaceable, of being nothing but a role, comes with. Because Damian has been born as his mother’s son, as his father's legacy, but not as his own person. It makes Damian feel unfit, unusable in the way he has seen his mother discard students who cannot kill. It burns him, kills him and with time he thinks he might just be a husk. Damian is nothing but competency and a perfect successor, a successor will never be their own.

Darling: Kindness

Ironically the kindness that tempers his own envy is not his own but instead, actions of his own darlings. He fully gives himself to you, gives you his very purpose to do what you want with. Should you order him to kill, order him to die, or to live he would do it without complaint. Tell him you want his heart and he will pry himself open and hand it over with a smile, tell him you want his laugh, and he will laugh himself manic until you tire of it. He is a fine blade, a weapon that has seen battle far too much already, and it’s your own kindness that stops it from going to battle. In essence Damian has made himself a role right by you, but has given up his autonomy of your manipulation. You’ve become his master, his owner and his loyal weapon.

Every action is your doing, every remark is for your benefit, and by giving himself to you, he can have you in a way nobody else can claim. Every smile, every hug, every word that you speak to him is something unique from a dynamic he has hand crafted, and therefore uniquely his own. He will store you away from others, wary of letting them stain you, and even more wary of letting them steal you. You’re his, his love, his heart, his blood, his purpose on this earth, and he cannot let another’s touch deter you from this. His darling is a salve to his aches, a bandage that wraps tight enough to manage to hold him together, and his actions are that with the purpose of binding you to him. Your purpose will be each other.

Author's Note: Another reupload! Previously known as lovesick-laboratories.

[andraxicated]

ꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ

Pairings: Alhaitham x f! reader

Synopsis: Your husband comes home stressed and takes it out by ravaging you in the kitchen

a/n: for that anon who requested haitham's version of the previous previous scara fic eons ago. im sorry this just came out sksksks. (i've been working on this for a month because school fucks me up so bad as an academic achiever)

tw: usage of safe word/action | rough sex | breeding kink | dirty talk | smut to fluff

A slam resounds through the living room, not even a usual greeting coming from a deep voice; that was your cue to turn off the stove and take off your apron.

You see a tall figure coming over to you and there he was, Alhaitham your husband is sporting a huge frown and wrinkles on his forehead. It's obvious that he's upset, and the only thing that gets him this upset is work.

"Not even an "I'm home" to your wife? I come here and cook you dinner after my own work too you know?" You say, raising an eyebrow with crossed arms. You think you looked intimidating but you were nothing but cute in Alhaitham's eyes. Seeing your face works wonders to take off the stress so he holds it, pressing kisses on your face which you scrunch. And lastly, he does what he always does: make out with you while gripping your ass inappropriately.

"I'm home. Where's our baby?" He asks while tracing the sides of your body, lightly nipping on your ear.

"Sleeping. Oh, and something came by the mail today." You pull away from him to get the envelope tucked under a vase. You hand it to your husband and he sees the familiar handwriting with a stamp that makes his eye twitch.

"Those idiots..." He murmurs under his breath and you widen your eyes. Lightly amused and turned on by how the words curl on his tongue.

"Who is it from?" You ask, tip-toeing to peek over him as he reads the contents of the letters.

But before you could even see a word, he rips the paper into two and you stand there frozen in shock. Watching as the pieces of paper fall like snow yet you start to think about how annoying it would be to clean. You're getting mad too.

"Haitham?! What the-" "It's nothing important" He cuts off and heads right for your lips, tilting your head upwards as he pushes down with his weight to initiate deeper. His smooth flesh slides against your own, tongue peeking into your cavern as he holds your head for support. You could feel the heat rise within, your center throbbing as you feel his big hands that touch you hastily.

One of them came to stop to hold your boob, lightly squeezing as Alhaitham gauges for your reactions. "Look at me" He said.

An annoying feeling rested in his chest when you didn't, so he picks you up weightlessly and sets you on the counter. Strong hands pin you by the knees and you swear you could almost feel them turning to jelly.

"N-not here...ah" You could only give in to your husband, letting him spread your legs then cup your pussy, a whimper that almost escaped if he didn't capture it with his lips. Alhaitham loved seeing you squirm just like now, that embarrassed face you keep as he hikes your shirt to reveal the waistband of your bottom. He tugs it down while kneading your spongy flesh. Your thighs shake and you feel throbbing moist on your folds, accompanied by that certain itch to be filled up.

"Why not here?" He asks. "We've done it plenty of times in the kitchen." He teases butterfly kisses, showering you with lewd affection as your shorts came off, revealing the white lacy panty you've hidden since it arrived.

He was wondering why you always seemed to rush to the front door when the doorbell rang. He'd ask and you would brush it off, saying it was just newly released makeup from your favorite brand.

And now he sees this...his eyes see red like when he consumed divine knowledge, zeroed in on the white lace barely covering what it's supposed to protect. Then he scans the overall view; swollen lips, fucked out eyes, half-naked wife spread out on the countertop just for him.

.....archons. He thinks he's gonna put another baby inside you tonight.

"Are you wearing a set?"

Your eyes widen, feeling like a mouse caught in a trap. "Yeah...? Why?"

Alhaitham clicks his tongue. His hands beside your figure completely trapped you, and he leans down intimidatingly like a predator cornering prey. Your heart beats too loudly and the throbbing of your pussy was not helping. You're incredibly excited and turned on by this display.

What's your husband gonna say? What's he gonna do?

"Take it off. Take everything off." his dominant voice renders you motionless but when you see the warning glint in his eye, you immediately start taking off whatever you had on. You've done this multiple times already, yet him watching you present yourself still makes you feel the same, the kind that makes you want to be treated like a whore.

Naked in all your glory, Alhaitham looks at your stomach and remembers how it used to be swollen; filled with his child, a symbol that you're already his. And he wants to see it again, it's about time don't you think?

"What a good girl" He praised because he didn't even need to tell you to turn around and arch your back. You were already showing him your hole, ass wiggling accompanied by your whines. "Haitham! Please! Please fuck me, I want you—hahhhh~" You breathe out the last word, ass ghosting over his rock-hard member. Even grinding yourself like this is enough to make you cum. It isn't there but you could vividly feel the sensation of his thick cock inside you. "Please mhmm? I've been missing you lately. You're always so busy and I-oh!!!" You're suddenly pressed against the counter, his cock digging between your ass as a groan made its way to his lips.

"Yeah, I'm busy. So fucking busy with all this shit being Grand Sage." He growls, hastily unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants to the floor. The sound alone made you clench in anticipation.

"Everyone encouraged me to stay in this position. Including you..." He says with a tone that makes your heart sink. Back then, he seemed to be the only one suitable for the job, to lead the institution. He's a better choice than letting someone incompetent lead. And so, with enough discussion and encouragement from you and his peers, he accepted the fate of being Grand Sage.

"It keeps me away from you. So I'm stressed and lonely" Alhaitham whispers against your skin, lips ghosting over just to make you tense. You arch your back in response, your husband humming at how reactive your body was. "And when you're stressed, I let you bounce on my cock right? I fuck you like the way you want." A strong hand suddenly strikes your ass, and a shout of pain sprung up your throat as you let your breathing even. Your sensations are haywire, tiny moans coming from you as Alhaitham's bulbous head prods at your entrance. "So you'll let me do the same right?"

He waits for your answer but none came.

"Right?" He's impatient, he's been fighting this boner since from the office, jacking off to a recent picture of you. The head then enters, only a tiny part of what it fully is. You dumbly nod in agreement that you almost feel dizzy. "Y-yes! I use your cock when I'm stressed. So please..." It was the last straw: your seductive eyes and slutty hole looking back at him.

"Use me—AH!" Your mouth is left in shock as he buries himself to the hilt, a moan reverberating from the depths of your husband's throat. You were so fucking tight it was suffocating his cock. He knows it had been a long time since you were intimate but shit...it feels exactly like when you both lost your virginity to each other. Alhaitham feels like a boy who just got his first pussy.

"You feel heavenly my love. I'll start moving now." He says while kissing the side of your head. His hand snaked all over your body, trapping your figure with his strong arms, making you feel helpless. Once you were lifted off the counter with a tight buckle of his limbs, you already knew where it was going.

"Tap consecutively if you want me to stop. Alright?"

"Alright"

His gaze was intense, making sure you understood what he said before covering your mouth with his large palm, effectively blocking out words. He pulls away along with his cock sliding out and you thrash in his arms, his teeth already gritting at how tight and wet you were. You feel the tip arrive at your entrance, the build-up of fear and anticipation making you shake like a lamb in his arms. He whispers sweet nothings like "I'll make you feel good", "this will hurt a bit", "it's okay" and all of those push you to the edge of the line, feeling like heaven is just one step away.

While you're agape and fucked out, he surprises you by pushing in one quick thrust, letting you take a moment to realize what happened before he started to plunge repeatedly. Alhaitham basked in your muffled moans and looked down at his cock going in and out with glistening juices. Its lewd sounds filled the kitchen, prompting him to take a faster pace to keep on producing it. You scream as you feel the girth stretch you harshly, pounding against your cunt as the balls slap against you.

"Mhm (y/n)" Alhaitham let out a groan of your name, biting the lobe of your ear in the making. He was so rough on nights like this, leaving you breathless and dizzy in a good kind of way. To feel your beloved working you open like he always does, to feel the wetness dripping down your thighs, and to hear his moans ringing in your ear. It all feels so. fucking. good.

You try your best to push against him too, helping him reach your deepest spot even though he doesn't need any. The cockhead somehow always finds your g-spot, hitting furiously once he identifies it and focuses on stimulation. His harsh pounding won't stop, bouncing you between his body and the counter, your vision rocking up and down at the roughness.

Your nails dig crescents at his arms while you lose your mind in taking dick.

"Fuck fuck, fuck! I'm giving you another little one."

Alhaitham wasn't that talkative in sex, he prefers to lose his mind to the feeling of your tight walls than initiate conversations. Unless...he feels absolutely good that there is a need to be vocal.

"You'd like that, won't you? You don't have to do anything but care for our baby—ah shit! I'm slipping inside you so easily."

He didn't need to tell you because you already know it. The sheer feeling of your hole working on his ceaseless thrusts and how it gives way to the large cock gliding inside you raw.

The overdrive of sensations was all too much.

"Mhmphh!" You cry as his arms wrapped around you got a little too tight for your liking. You suddenly felt lightheaded, chest restricting in a way that makes you panic.

All it took was hurried taps on the arms scarred with crescents. And Alhaitham wasted no second to let you go. He immediately turned you to face him and showed how worried he was, painstakingly obvious on his horrified face. You would've laughed at him if you weren't trying to catch your breath.

"Jeez, haitham. You really are stressed." You try to lighten up the mood but it seemed to worsen as he let out a deep sigh.

With the way you're about to slump on the floor, he suddenly lifted you up to place you on the counter. Alhaitham started to massage your thighs, a guilty expression etched on his face.

"I'm sorry are you hurt? You feeling okay?" Every word feels like vomit, he had no right to ask you that when you're obviously pained all because he couldn't keep his dick in his pants. Turquoise eyes meet yours in shame and Alhaitham couldn't fathom why you have a smile on your face.

"Hey" Your voice alone lifted some of the heaviness off.

"I'm alright now, but can you go get me a glass of water?" You asked and then watched as he slipped on his pants, a momentary frown appearing on your face as you watch him tuck his member back. He filled up the glass of water and came back to hand it to you, watching you remedy your parched throat. After emptying the glass, you wipe your lips with the back of your hand and set the glass beside you before giving Alhaitham the most comforting smile you could muster.

"Before we could continue that mind-blowing sex, I think you need to let out your stress properly other than blowing out my back." His ears cutely tinge red at your vulgar words.

You chuckle at the scene and place your arms around his shoulders. Alhaitham then takes one hand off and kisses the back of it while looking at you. The beautiful shade of green seemed to ask for forgiveness so you nod.

He plays with your fingers gingerly, massaging each one of your digits. "I'm sorry for almost crushing you to death. I should've been more careful with my strength, I'm really...really sorry (y/n)."

"Yeah, you're not so much of a feeble scholar anymore. " You say and silence ensues for a while before both of you break into laughter. "You feel good now? Tell me what happened-"

"love...I don't really wanna burden you and I'm sure you want to sleep-"

"Haitham"

Oh no. Your voice was stern and it was clearly a cue for your husband to shut the fuck up.

"Listen to me" You start. "I share my burdens with you, I tell you what annoys me at work and how hard raising a toddler is...yet you don't tell me anything except Kaveh's loans!, except minor issues at the Akademiya!" You sniffle, tears coming to your eyes. "Tell me what bothers you. Share your burdens with me, hmm?"

With your pleading face and watery eyes, how could he not say no? He sighed a long one before kissing your forehead, whispering his reply to your ear while intertwining your fingers together.

"Alright, I will. Stay here, you must be cold. I'll go get a robe for you." And with that, you watch his figure disappear into one of the rooms as you sigh and look at the food that's gone cold.

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

Average ship war between the MC fanbase

*Paimon posted an edit of MC and Satan*

Paimon: They are the cuteeeeeeest!!!! Can't wait to see them kisssssss <3

*Gamigin and 3 others disliked that*

Gamigin: Actually, His Majesty Lucifer kissed them before. Plus, MC just went on a romantic date with him, he's clearly their favourite!

Paimon: Satan was the first demon that met MC, they're clearly closer togetherrrrr

Eligos: His Majesty Mammon is greacious enough to let MC live in other countries, but after all the contracts are broken, they'll move to Tartaros and marry him.

Gamigin: You guys are stupid! Who do you think heals all of MC's wounds, huh? Can his majesty Satan or Mammon fix broken bones or internal bleeding? I doupt they even know what hydrochloric acid even is?

Paimon: Now you're just rudeeeeee

Gamigin: Plus, his Majesty Satan is too short to be MC's type

Paimon: Check your dms

Eligos: If MC likes them tall, then clearly Mammon would be a perfect fit for them

Foras: Actually, Glasylabolas is taller

Eligos: I am in your walls

Foras: 😨

Dantalian: Fuck all of you roughly with a chainsaw, his majesty Asmodeus is the only king in hell that deserves MC's attention

Amon: You know, trying to bait death threats is very obvious

Dantalian: Hey! I still think Asmodeus would form a great couple with MC

Amon: Of course he would, he falls for every human with a pulse

Dantalian: Says the bootlicker of the eon. You were born kissing his majesty Beelzebub's ass

Amon: I wish

Dantalian: I hate you so much

*Paimon disabled comments on this post*

[lxkeee]

𝗖𝗜𝗖𝗔𝗧𝗥𝗜𝗭𝗘

₊˚ෆ 𝗟𝘂𝗰𝗶𝗳𝗲𝗿 𝗠𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿 𝘅 𝗥𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

(v.) to find healing by the process of forming scars.

fandom: hazbin hotel

genre: romance, friends (slightly enemies) to lovers.

warnings: includes topics that are not suitable for 16 and below; depression, self harm, smut.

notes: [y/n] is a very tall woman in this, same height as Alastor probably.

status: coming soon...

synopsis: Lucifer Morningstar, the king of hell, a great leader and a fallen angel. [Y/n] [L/n], an infamous overlord of hell that is known to be sought after because she provides protection to the souls she has, the first fallen who actually became an overlord, she's known to be mature, secretive, cold yet caring, rumored to have fell from grace the same time Lucifer did, as the two are best of friends. Though the two fell apart when they fell from grace. Lucifer ruled hell with his beloved while [y/n] decided to stay in the shadows and try to help him in her little ways. It's been eons since they've last seen each other, after their ideals clashed—Lucifer dreaming that sinners can be redeemed and [y/n] disagreeing as she knows that heaven won't listen. What happens when she comes back to his life to help him out again?

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥𝗦

ONE - HISTORY

TWO - DIFFERENT IDEALS

THREE - RUBBER DUCKS...?

𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧: open

@lunalixya @96jnie @lukerycyja @adaizel @svnnynostalgia @luleck @reineurynome @xxnessinessiellexx @katsutoria @sunnydays-funnydays @astrxwitch @sunnydays-funnydays @creamymilkk @randomuser-89 @sarkzjam

[so-very-small]

i got an art tablet for christmas from my ma. its coming in tuesday and on GOD im gonna be drawing so many giants

[victoria-grimesss]

tear you apart - part I

masterlist

->Pairing: König x fem!reader

->Words: 2.2k

->Warning: sexual thoughts, use of Y/N, close proximity, and tension, eventual smut

->Summary: König is kinda mean, dark and a little possessive but it’s all in good fun! A new girl catches the colonel's eyes, and he won’t let her go. Inspired by my favorite song Tear you Apart by She Wants Revenge.

->A/N: please let me know what ya’ll think, this is my first time writing anything spicy so im open to feedback. Also my requests are always open :)

The base is cold as it should be at this time of year, you transferred from the states to the Austrian KorTac base against your own wishes, you are a specialized stealth agent that the higher ups thought could be a valued member to the KorTac team. Wishing to be back in the sun but alas your new skies are clouded and mean.

It is what it is, you thought to yourself, lacing your boots, and emerging from your room. It’s always a weird adjustment process when you transfer to a new base, learning the way around like learning a new maze each time. The people were friendly enough although you didn’t know if it was because you were a new soldier or just because you were a new pretty face around that hadn’t heard any rumors about the seedy guys and their proclivities.

Altogether you have heard one rumor,

One big, tall, menacing rumor.

König

“The king”

Curiosity killed the cat and God help you, all you wanted was to know if what they said was true. Before you left for transfer you heard whispers when they found out where you were going.

“She’ll be miserable under his watch.”

“He’ll have her running laps and doing reps the first day for sure.”

“He’ll eat her alive.”

 “He’ll eat her alive.”

 Did these whispers make her shiver? Yes

Did these whispers make her restless? Yes

Did these whispers make her ache in anticipation? Absolutely.

 It’s been a long while since the last body occupied her bed, a touch a century ago, a kiss eons ago. All these fairy tales about this big, tall strong man that could throw her two football fields didn’t help her desperation at all.

She knew these thoughts weren’t appropriate, sleeping with a superior was frowned upon. He was probably married and happy, men like that don’t stay on the market for long. And from the stories she heard she obviously has no shot with him.

She rounded a corner from the barracks and exited to the outside courtyard, the air nipping at her skin. Dark clouds looms and the trees are barren of leaves ready for life anew. Approaching the main building the smell of sweat and metal entered her nose making way to the meeting room.

——

The debriefing was the same as all the others, the captain explaining what to do and who goes where. She nearly fell asleep until the doorknob turned, that’s weird, usually people don’t barge into these things halfway through… unless they’re king of the castle.

He enters the room, his aura dominating those around him. His stature is something to behold, well over six feet of pure muscle. He could break me over his knee like a glowstick and I wouldn’t be able to do anything about it…

He stalks into the room greeting the captain, his voice it deep and dark and you want to hear more of it.

His gear makes him all that bulkier, his mask concealing his face and yea, if I were the enemy and I saw him running towards me I would definitely shit my pants.

He stands at the front of the room observing everyone in it and maintaining concentration on the presentation the captain is giving for the next mission. You try your hardest to maintain the same concentration but he’s just so tall and all the rumors are true he’s an enigma. You find your eyes drinking him in, from his shoes to the metal plates on his shins, to his..oh god… his broad broad shoulders. You imagine taking your hands and tracing over them feeling the thick muscles underneath his war-torn skin as you bring your hands lower-

 He shifts in place.

 Your eyes quickly dart away then to his eyes, his eyes locked on yours like a predator watching his prey.

You immediately break into a sweat, his eyes like a spotlight and they don’t move from you.

You look again to see if he’s still looking, he tilts his head a bit to the side and raises an eyebrow teasingly. Shit. oh no he’s hot. Like really hot.

Shifting in your seat, nervous beads of sweat dripping down your neck, the meeting is coming to a close and people start tucking in their chairs. König is still standing by the door, his eyes still locked on yours, I wonder what he’s thinking. I mean, surely if he’s a married man he wouldn’t be looking at me so hard….right? Maybe no one told him you were transferring so he’s just confused on who the fuck is this new girl in here I didn’t approve this. By now most of everyone has left the room, the projector is turned off, the map put away, the captain gone. You move your gaze to the floor and get up and tuck in your chair, clearing your throat, now realizing how eerily quiet the room is and you haven’t heard König make a noise since he greeted the captain. You make your way to the door, preparing to walk by him and out of the room.

An arm shoots out to block the doorway and you are forced to stop dead in your tracks keeping your eyes dead set on the long dark hallway in front of you.

“Your name soldier.” He barks, his voice smooth and dark like black coffee. The sweat beads up again and you know for a fact your face is growing hot.

“Y/N, sir.” You straighten your back and maintain my straight state.

He leans down. You can tell he’s looking at you and you raise your eyes to meet his and your heart is racing a million miles an hour and nerves are on fire you breath is uneven and you know he knows, I mean who wouldn’t be uneasy this close to him.

“I-I’m the transfer from the states sir, from the stealth unit.”

“I know who you are hübsches Mädchen, read your file. Approved your transfer myself.”

He replied, his eyes never leaving mine. He’s even more intimidating this close but something deep within you wants to reach out to him and quell this thirst for his touch.

“I appreciate you thinking me worthy to serve on this team, I won’t let you down.” You affirm with the little strength you have left. His gaze is piercing but intoxicating all the same.

He removes his hand slowly from the doorframe and straightens his back standing at his full height again. His begins again,

“Training at 0700 tomorrow morning be there, I’d like to see you demonstrate some maneuvers see if you need any additional training. I will be watching closely, do not disappoint me.” His arms are crossed now and he’s even larger than before.

“Yes, of course sir, I’ll be there.”

“I look forward to it.” His tone is light now, maybe even teasing.

You swear you saw him wink but maybe it was just the lighting and how it hit his mask.

“Well run along kleiner Hase; you need your beauty sleep after all.” He motions to the hallway and you take quick steps back to your room, cheeks still hot and breath still quick. It was going to be difficult to have him as your commanding officer.

——

Sleep didn’t come easy, tossing and turning and thinking about the way König devoured you with his eyes made you sweat and frankly being that close to him and replaying that moment over and over again didn’t help with your insomnia. You thought of him a lot that night, more than once, enough to make your hand cramp up. By the time it was daylight you were running off 4 hours of sleep and a large coffee you picked up from the mess hall. You trudged your way over to the main building again where the gym and training room was, once again passing through the courtyard.

The trees are still barren, and you almost slip on the sleet left on the pathway cursing to yourself and hoping to god no one saw.

The gym smells musty, the air vents clearly working overtime since the gym has some activity. A couple groups of pairs work on sparing on the far side and others work out alone. You walk over to the mats and stand to the side watching the two pairs fight for the upper hand, takedown training great, you knew how to do it most of the time on missions you were equipped with a silenced pistol and other quieter tools. Stealth takedowns are your forte but it can’t hurts to get more practice with face to face takedowns.

The fight with the two are done and you were too busy thinking to hear your voice being called.”

“Sergeant L/N!, to the mat.” König barked, his authority shaking the ground, not the best first impression on training day.

You apologize quickly and step onto the mat, your opponent being someone a bit taller than you but not by much, a weight to weight equal, should be easy enough.

König’s eyes watch you as you grapple with the opponent twisting his arm and throwing him over your shoulder onto the mat, you brace your knee on his neck and apply a small amount of pressure, the opponent taps out. He won’t lie, König felt his pants get tight from seeing you work so effectively. Your work is certainly good, he won’t lie, taking down someone so easily.

“Again, another.” He barks once more, his accent thick.

You take down another three opponents, you clearly are growing restless from the muscle exertion and signal to take a break. König watches with amusement.

“A break? What if this was real combat kleiner Hase, will you beg your advisories to adjourn their dissatisfaction for you? Beg them for a time out?” By now he’s stepped onto the mat with you, today he’s shed the outer layer of his gear just wearing his mask and usual military uniform, he still looks just as hot.

“There’s no time for breaks out there as you know, and when you come up with a larger enemy you must be able to take them down as well.”

Fuck.

He wants you to take HIM down, your muscles are already weak from the last three fights he surly knows you’ve exerted yourself right? Right?!

“Go on schatz, I’ll let you make the first move.” His voice has an edge of teasing to it and you want to rip off his mask and see the smirk you know he’s displaying.

You huff

“Very well sir.”

You move to grapple his middle trying to take out his legs, he’s sturdy like a tree and you think if you can take out his legs he’ll go down like one. He budges only slightly when you hit on a pressure point and just when he’s moving and you think you’ve gain the upper hand he sweeps your legs from underneath you and has you pinned. Your wrists are bound by one of his hands above you head and he’s got both of his very thick thighs straddling you.

Your face grows hot at your defeat, especially all your other coworkers seeing it too. But it burns even hotter when he comes down close to your ear and whispers to you,

“You look very pretty underneath me schatz, so pretty when you are short of breath.” He laughs, that bastard.

You can’t admit it but your panties grow damp at his words and your body is on fire, although to those around you it just looks like you’ve over exerted yourself with a tad too much training.

König stand, his height from down here is astonishing. He reaches a hand down and lifts you to your feet but he’s so strong you accidentally collide with his chest before taking a quick step back. You mumble an apology.

“You fight well L/N, no doubt you will be a fine addition to this team. Although you will need to know how to take down large adversaries so I can help you with additional training of course.”

He holds his hand for you to shake it and you meet him halfway, his large hand grips yours and you get a flashback to feeling it wrapped tightly around your wrists, you shiver.

König’s gaze casts down upon you, no woman has yet to capture his attention the way you have. Many have tried. Thrown themselves at him in an unsavory manner, but you, oh you’re different. He admires the way you speak to him, although not many words have been exchanged between the two of you he prays there are more.

Your hair, your eyes, your body, all of it has entranced him and the moment he laid eyes on you, the others know. The way his gaze is steady and dark on you the others know you’re off limits. He yearns to learn more of you, to hear of your history as he strips your clothes off one article at a time under the dim lights of his office. He must be patient though. You are like a deer, scared in the spotlight and he must not spook you, he stands still until you come to him. For now he stares.

[neonovember]

OH MY GOD CARMYS GF (READER) GETTING HER FIRST TATTOO AND HIM COMFORTING HER AND HELPING HER TAKE CARE OF IT DURING THE HEALING PROCESS OR WHATEVA‼️💳💥💳💥 IDK I WAS JUST SITTING HERE AND THOUGHT OF IT IF YOU DOJT WANNA WRITE IT THATS OKAY

could even make the tattoo be his name or his initial or somethin 🤯🤯🤭😏

love you and your writing 😚

thanks for keeping us fed 😌

carmen berzatto x reader

okay so yes, maybe hozier has jolted me out of my writers block. i'm just a women after all.

Inked Devotion

this request was fun! i really didn't know what to make the tattoo so i left it a blank slate for whatever you wanna imagine, hope that's okay!

word count: 1.7k

things; tattoos, mentions of braces, carmen's unyielding devotion to you

Your eyes dart across the tall walls lined with inked models and men in dark beards nervously. You can't shake the tension that seems to imprint itself under your skin, your knees jittering with a rapid tap against the linoleum floors. 

When you had brought up wanting to get a tattoo, a half joking mutter under your breath as you traced the many littered on Carmen’s body you hadn’t anticipated to actually go through with it. 

And yet here you were, shaking like a leaf despite the diffuser jutting out whisper of eucalyptus that was meant to be calming. Whilst Monica, a woman you'd meant a handful of times ran through the list of after care necessities you should be listening to.

You can’t though, you don’t hear a thing as you stare unseeingly through the dark auburn tresses of her short hair, wrapped up in the thoughts that have begun to eat away at the already dwindling confidence you had when you first walked in. 

“Hey, you still with me darlin’' Monica's Brooklyn drawl draws you back to her, and you duck your head sheepishly as you nod furiously. Like a goddamn high schooler getting caught looking out the window instead of listening to Hemingway.

Monica smiles toward you, humouring warmth filling her pale skin that, surprising to you, were incredibly stark of tattoos. In fact, if it weren’t for the posters taped to the walls, the black and white tiled floor, and the ominous tattoo bench in the corner you would have thought you walked it not the wrong place. It was stereotypical of you, and you had been a loud advocate for not judging a book by its cover, but goddamn, what tattoo parlour had potted plants and candles that smell like cinnamon?

“Sorry, uh, what did you say?” 

“It’ll be alright, the pain really does depend on each person but Larry here will catch you if you faint on my tattoo bed” Monica winks with a smile, and you shift your gaze to the man stationed unmoving near some marked drawers, the mass of muscle hidden beneath dark jeans and a shirt bursting out of him.

It wasn’t the pain you were worried about, you had period cramps that sounded worse than that, it was more so the prospect of having your virgin skin imprinted with something forever. You had never done something like this, teenage recklessness had passed you by without a blink, and you had little to show for it but carved words on your old dresser from a knife and a dark eyeshadow phase that lasted less than a month. 

It was a little pathetic, getting your first tattoo eons after any respectable age, and your trepidation seems blatantly clear as Monica shakes her head with a smile.

“Many people get their firsts well into adulthood, did I tell you about my last appointment? A 52 year old woman wanting a goddamn tramp stamp.”

You can't help but let a giggle out, the unsureness leaving you at Monica’s words

“You still want this right?’ Monica replies, and you shift your gaze to Carmen, who was already watching you fondly, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he pushes his golden strands back and gives you a nod

“It’s all up yo you gorgeous, if your having second thoughts there is a really good Thai place i wanted to che-” 

“No, no I want this”  You cut him off, and he chuckles softly, “Besides we already designed the stencil and everything” Carmen nods at that, placing his large palm onto your own, squeezing it with reassurance.

“Damn right we did, thinkin it's my best work yet” Monica chirps from the other side of the bed between you.

“Alright, just sit on that bed down there, get settles while I grab some things” 

You nod, walking stiffly towards the leather bed, tissue paper crinkly under your weight as you shift into a comfortable position. Your eyes follow Monica like a laser, watching as she santises her hands and slides on powdered sterile gloves. 

It reminds you of days spent in Dentists chairs, visions of rubbery fingers tightening wires into your teeth flashes behind the darkness of your lids. Funny, you had worried about your lack of experimental youth, and yet here you are now feeling like a kid again.

The thought makes you smile, and you open your eyes to feel the heated gaze of Carmen looming over you. Face distorting in horror when Monica’s tool makes a clatter, eyes widening comically in that way that always makes you laugh.

“Alright Doll, I’m just gonna need you to sit up for me whilst I get the skin prepped. Alcohols gonna feel a little cold to the touch, kay?” Monica says.

All you can do is nod as she rips open the matte packet, pressing it into your open skin shaved clean per her request a few prior. Who knew how much prep a tattoo would need, you were sure it was on par with even one of Carm’s dishes.

Unfortunately for you the only numbing cream useful for tattoos had something that would have made you break out in hives, so it was cold turkey for you. Monica had transformed the design into a stencil, and as she was transferring it into your skin it seemed to come to life all at once. 

You had spent hours going over designs, and whilst you were extremely happy with what you both came up with, it was like when the lines and shapes had traced your skin, you finally saw it. And the moment you did you couldn't stop the wave of emotion that rushed through you, filling your eyes.

“Hey, baby, hey what is it” Carmen rushed urgently, crouching down when he noticed the way you sniffled.

“Awe doll, you don’t like the design? I’ll change it in a flash, this is just the stencil it aint permanent at all” Monica quickly stopped, looking up at you with concern

“No no, I’m fine” You squeezed Carmen “It’s so, it's beautiful Monica” You rushed out, trying to ease the lines of concern that appeared on her face. Monica bloomed at your reply, fondness heating her cheeks as she traced your skin comfortingly.

“Thank you” You whispered to her as she shushed you.

“At least we got the crying bit over and done with, it might hurt less now” She winked, before reaching for her tattoo gun.

“Ah shit” You grunted, shooting daggers Carmen's way when he snorted out loud.

Returning to your skin, Monica pressed the pointed tip of the gun to your skin, the first sink of ink burrowed into your skin causing you to clench your jaw. 

Monica looked up to watch your expression with a smile,

“See, ain't too bad” Carmen replied before you gripped him white knuckled, making him wince regrettably.

It took some time, you won’t lie to yourself that is fucking hurt. But soon enough the sharp stab had resided to a dull ache, and you instead had become all too focused on the movement of Monica's hand swaying through the strokes of the design. 

You were in awe, she breathed her being into it, and as the design took inches and inches of your skin you understood why she was booked out for months. With one last intricate curl, and a wipe of cleansing soap across the inked skin it was finished. Revealed to both you and Carmen's eyes in all its glory, and you both just stared.

“God, now I wish my first was as good as that instead of wonky stick and poke” Carmen said after a pregnant silence had passed.

“It..wow, yeah. Yep, I want to be buried with this” You said softly, giddiness erupting in your body as you shook your hand grasped in Carmens.

“I’m glad doll, I mean this is meant to be professional but goddamn does your skin just take it. Fuckin’ gorgeous” Monica replied, leaning back as she places the gun on the table near.

“Hey, I'll report you to HR” Carmen bitterly replies, moving you closer to his side as you laugh.

“It’s my business, I am HR” Muttering under her breath as she rolls her eyes. Wrapping your skin in adhesive sheets, Monica repeats the after care instructions, thankfully and this time you listen.

Carmen had already grabbed your things, motioning for you to start heading out after you both furiously thanked Monica for everything. You crinkled with joy as she hugged you, breathing in the smell of old spice and medical grade rubbing alcohol that followed her. 

Her studded rings glistened in the afternoon sun as she waved you both goodbye, as you couldn't help but skip in your stride across the sidewalk. Finger tracing the raised blotted skin, whilst your other hand hung onto Carmen as he twirled you around.

“My gorgeous ink stained sweetheart” Carmen called to you, and you were brought back to his chest gently like a tide again.

“Thank you too, you know” You said into Carmen's cotton shirt. It was the one you got him after your first date, it had been a deep cobalt then. You regretted it just as you gave it to him, fearing you were being too forward. And then he wore it until it faded into a light blue.

“Wouldn't even have this forever on me if you hadn't been the one to bring it up again” You replied softly, fingers tracing his jaw.

“Would have spent a year learning how to tattoo myself if you wanted me too. Monica just seemed quicker” Carmen mumbled before you softly hit his chest with a smile.

“Hey, it’s true. Your skin deserves to be remembered, I could trace it till my fingers atrophied and I’d still have the memory of you under my skin memorised” Carmen divulged, eyelids drooping as he leaned down into your embrace. 

You shake your head, heart panging so deeply it hurt till you pressed your lips to his. Tasting the outpour of Carmen that he let loose into you everyday.

And Carmen had stayed true to his words weeks later when it had healed, tracing it till his fingers weren't enough. Till he had to wrap his mouth around it and taste it with his tongue.

He swears even your inked skin tasted sweet.

tags <3 @parmforcarm @hansfics @kpopgirlbtssvt @nolita-fairytale

[i23kazu]

GENSHIN MEN & FALLING ASLEEP ON YOUR SHOULDER .

characters. xiao kaeya diluc childe itto alhaitham kaveh x reader genre. romantic fluff, can be seen as platonic too, suggestiveness in itto's part an. fluff <3 all the fluff <3 | please reblog!! im getting back into writing and reblogs with tags and comments will make me want to write more :D

xiao

xiao falls asleep on your shoulder, and he looks almost... peaceful. as if the karmic debt never existed, as if he never suffered in pain during the eons that he lived. you can't bear to wake him up – lest he never gets rest like this again.

kaeya

when kaeya falls asleep on your shoulder, you smile to yourself and run your fingers through his messy head of hair. his locks are let loose from the band he usually adorns and the exhaustedness finally melts away. he's visibly less stressed now.

diluc

when he finally lays his head on your shoulder to rest, you don't bother moving him. after a day of work and stacks of papers tall enough to match his height, diluc eventually allows himself to take a quick nap before starting again... of course, that nap becomes an hour.

childe

"i swear, 'm not tir-" your boyfriend can't even finish his words before his lids close, mouth partially open as he leans his full weight against you. childe reluctantly falls asleep, head nestled comfortably against your shoulder.

itto

your boyfriend whines that he's not tired, even though you can practically see the Z's that are coming out of his head. once the both of you reach home, though – he literally slumps to the floor and has to take a nap there. you just leave him be.

alhaitham

alhaitham never tells you that he's tired. he'd rather take a nap and leave you to find out, rather than let you know... however, this time is different: he's slumping with exhaustion and before you know it, his head leans against yours and he's finally asleep.

kaveh

kaveh loves to fall asleep anywhere. on the bed, on the couch, at his desk, even the dining table – but especially, your shoulder. it's no surprise at this point that he gets tired easily and why take a nap on the bed when your shoulder is right there? you don't mind, as long as he doesn't drool...

taglist: @tiredsleep @loptido @raincxtter @chichikoi @ladyadii @soulsanta @sheiiy @genshinparty @eowinthetraveler @moonbyunniee @lemonswriting @legitnoi @lemontum @manager-of-the-pudding-bank @niiheng @starz222 @ilyuu @cherry-colored-petals @mondaymelon @tartaglia-apologist @soleillunne @softcosmixs @ineshapanda @babypetuniaa (send ask to be added to taglist)