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another-random-paradise · 4 months

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Hii!! If you’d wanna, can you make short headcanons about the house wardens except Kalim and Idia with a reckless reader, like (for example); is chasing after grim for doing something stupid and sees a shorter but dangerous short cut and takes it, almost breaking a leg but they don’t bc their crush (not bf yet) catches them with their magic, (I believe he only said five people, but if not five, I would like if it had Malleus, Leona riddle, and Azul)

(btw I really like your writing! Keep it up, but don’t forget to take care of yourself <33)

A Rewarding Chase

Tysm for the request and the kind words!! It was very fun to write! I took the chasing grim idea and ran with it- made sure to try and not make it to repetitive!! I do have a four character limit, if you want the others too feel free to send a second request (I wouldn't mind, i had so much fun writing this-)! And take care of yourself too <3

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Reckless Reader being saved by him while chasing grim

Characters: Malleus, Leona, Riddle, Azul

Format: Headcanons

Warnings: Mentions of possible Injuries(Nobody actually gets Hurt)

Malleus

-It's already rather late, Malleus is on another one of his evening walks.. when he suddenly hears someone running, and you shouting

-He decides to check it out, because chances are, you're being reckless again. Also because he would get to see you again :) Nevermind that he saw you earlier during classes

-When he does, he, just as expected, saw you chasing after Grim once again, who knew what the little guy had done this time? He decided to just watch at first- at least until you once again decided to do something awfully reckless

-Grim decided to go down a steep staircase, and instead of running after him, you decide to jump down the stairs, in oder to catch up faster. And if there is one thing Malleus knew, it was the fact that humans are rather fragile, and that you would break your legs doing this Jump

-While very much shocked, he acted almost on impulse, the young fae Prince pulls out his Pen and stops you mid air. Being the powerful mage that he is, you can't wriggle yourself out of his magics grip. Once he sat you down at the top of the staircase, he was kind enough to also get Grim back

-A soft smile settles on his face as he questions your antiques, wondering if you weren't aware of your own fragility. You are, you just decide to ignore it!

-After sending Grim home, he asks you to join him on his nightly walk, he would love to know more about your impulsive decisions! He really just wants to know more about you in general. And in typical Malleus fashion, he doesn't even notice the faint blush on your cheeks!

-He tells you to call him, should Grim cause trouble again, he knows he wouldn't be able to change your reckless nature. And he doesn't want to- it is another part of you, and he loves all of you. He just doesn't want you to get hurt <3

Leona

-He has never been awake this fast.

-Leona was just once again napping in the botanical garden- When the sound of shouting woke him up, yours and Grim's shouting to be precise. He didn't think much of it, this happend pretty often after all, but nonetheless he decided to lazily open up one eye

-And thank the seven he did, because now he was very much awake and staring at you, as you climbed one of the tallest trees in the entirety of the garden.

-Turns out, Grim has decided to climb up a tree, and you being you, went after him. Well, people tend to be heavier than cats, so eventually a branch broke underneath you.

- The tree you were on wasn't at all small, the fall would very much end in multiple broken bones, if not worse!

-He quickly pulled out his pen, catching you. Grim got away in the end, while Leona scolded you told you off. He complained about your antics interrupting his nap, and that he won't catch you next time. He absolutely will, and the actual reason he's upset about your antics is that it worry's him

-He might just force you to stay with him, so that you, and i quote; "Won't cause any more trouble", but really he just wants to be close to you. But then again, could it really be considered forcing, if you willingly agree? who'd say no to napping with their crush, after all ;)

-He might occasionally glance at you, while trying to go back to napping. He isn't entirely sure how he fell for someone as reckless as you, but you know what they say: Opposites attract :)

Riddle

-It was just supposed to be a normal unbirthday party.

-Riddle, of course, invited you, like he always does! Pretty much the entire dorm except maybe Deuce know about his crush on you by now And you in Grim were pretty much a package, you invite one, the other comes along.

-Riddle doesn't mind, of course! He does Who was he to demand time alone with you, it's not like your dating! He really wishes you were... were it not for Grim being such a trouble maker

-Grim had decided to throw a tantrum after not getting "fed enough", as in, he got the same amount of tarts as everybody else, before running off. You run after him, and in turn Riddle goes after you, as he already knows how reckless you can be

-And thank the seven that he did, as just as he finally catches up, he sees you trying to jump over a Rose bush to get to Grim- Sure it would break no bones, but the amount of thorns could severely cut you, and leave scars, or worse get infected!- The small Redhead is panicking to say the least

-He quickly takes his pen and uses magic to pull you back, almost making you bump into him in his panic!

-He scolds you almost immediately, if you were a part of his dorm he would have collared you! He wouldn't have, this man plays favorites Though you can't help but notice how not even once he brought up how you could have ruined the Roses or your Uniform.. All he cared bout was your health! And that made you happy, I mean, your crush actually cares about you!

-After helping you catch Grim, the party was already over, so he bids you farewel, sending you back to ramshackle, before both of you return to your respective rooms to comprehend the situation and blush :)

Azul

-How someone as organized as him could fall for someone as reckless as you? He doesn't know, but he did.

-This is proven as, just like always, he personally came to attend to you when you came to eat dinner at the Mostro lounge. He says it's because it's a busy night, but really it's an excuse to see you! And you don't question it because you get to spend more time with him because of it!

-But alas, Grim didn't wanna behave, so after being told that they were out of his favorite food, he took of and somehow climbed onto one of the lamps.

-You weren't having it, not today. You usually try to hold your reckless nature back in front of Azul, not wanting to terrify your crush, but Grim's tantrum just ruined the great conversation you were having with Azul ,ordering desert!

-So, you climb onto your seat and leap at the lamb! Considering you aren't focused on landing properly, but on catching grim, chances are very high you'll Hurt yourself, most likely straining your ankle

-So, Azul being a Gentleman, as well as not wanting to taint his reputation by letting a guest get hurt He'll hate himself if he just let's you get hurt, uses his magic to catch you, as he isn't the strongest physically

-He sends the eels after Grim while taking you to the VIP lounge. You think he's about to ban you for live, but actually he checks up on you, making sure you weren't injured in the process of the jump, as well as that his magic had no side effects

-You do have to stop him from banning grim for live

-He may just draft up a contract about being more careful with your antics, or to at least think twice before acting, you don't even realize how much you worry him! You most likely refuse, knowing that you can't just stop yourself from, well, being yourself. But he does make you sign a contract to not speak about what happened.

-You leave, smiling to yourself, now knowing that your crush cares about you, as he sits in his office blushing about the whole situation, just hoping the twins don't walk in

First Riddle request!! Very exited because I love the mini Tyrant <3 Also, for Azul's part, for one line, I wanted to originally write 'Your crush' but decided to change it to Azul, and almost published this with it saying 'your Azul' I-

Feedback is welcomed, just be nice!

Remember to drink water! Have a nice day/night <3

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rogueddie · 1 year

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Steve nearly winces when he steps into the room, following behind Dustin and Mike. He's already wishing he'd tried to shut Lucas up as soon as he'd tried to say that "no, really, I don't mind!"

Because of course he's this unlucky. Of course his date would skip out almost last minute, of course he'd end up with no excuse to avoid helping Dustin with his stupid D&D game and of course the person who probably hates Steve most is crouched on the biggest chair like it's a throne.

Eddie Munson eyes lock on him immediately. He stares for a while, making Dustin and Mike shift awkwardly beside him.

"Absolutely not. No way." He's grinning though. His eyes narrow slightly at Steve, like he's daring him to do something.

"You asked for a sub, we delivered."

Steve simply raises an eyebrow, pointedly shifting the sheets Dustin had helped him make up. It draws Eddies attention off his face, finally. When he looks back up, he's smiling a little more genuinely.

The guys standing at his sides are still glaring, looking almost cruelly excited when Eddie stands up, meandering his way over to them.

He gently plucks the sheet out Steves hand, eyebrows slowly raising as he reads.

Everyone is waiting, eyeing Eddie impatiently. Dustin and Mike are tense, as though waiting for Eddie to blow up. The others seem to expect the same, though Steve imagines they're more excited for it.

"Why did you come?" Eddie eventually asks, still holding onto the character sheet. "What could possibly be so important about this that King Steve would miss the championship game?"

"Dustin said this one was important," Steve shrugs. Fights to keep his calm demeaner. "Something about it being the last one or something. He's been going on about this shit forever. Seemed cruel to leave him high and dry at the last leg."

"Well…" Eddie eyes the character sheet before handing it back. Looks Steve up and down, before finally grinning. His eyes crinkle at the edges. "Welcome to Hellfire, Lady Elora."

He sticks his hand out. Steve shakes it, trying not to grin back.

Even with how often Dustin has talked to him about the game, Steve is clueless. Dustin and Mike both save him from embarressment every time though, quick to argue different options in such a pointed way that he knows the others aren't fooled by.

But Steve doesn't mind, often finds himself rolling his eyes at their antics only to find Eddie eyeing him almost fondly.

He finds that he enjoys it though. He'd make the character Elora as a joke, mostly just throwing whatever seemed to fit at random. An Elf who's a ranger, chaotic neutral, swinging around a bat with nails.

He wonders if it sounds as stupid to everyone else as it does to him.

He's often lost on the story too. But Eddie is brilliant at telling it. Even when he doesn't understand what he means, he flinches when the others yell at a reveal. Anxiety bubbling up when things get tense, slowly getting more and more invested in the game. Even he can tell that they're nearing the end, the final fight.

"You're scared, you're tired, you are injured," Eddie says. "Do you flee Vecna and his cultists? Or do you stand your ground and fight?"

Steve already knows the answer before Dustin speaks up; "I say we fight. To the death!"

"To the death," Mike echoes, nodding.

"To the death." Steve sniffs, doesn't bother fighting the grin.

Eddie grins back at him, the others chanting the sentiment. Steve feels warm with his attention locked on him.

Steve has the first roll. He still doesn't understand the numbers, but the others cheer so he assumes it must be good. But then it goes downhill, so many bad rolls.

Everyone is too hyped up for Steve to keep up so he focuses on Eddie. He's jeering, jumping up out of his seat, encouraging the chaos and seeming to control the energy of the room. When he laughs, he sounds more like a movie villain.

And then, one of them calls time out.

They huddle into a circle, just like they did in basketball. Steve is surprised by how easily two of the older boys pull him in.

"Guys, I hate to say this but we have got to flee."

"I concur."

"Didn't we just agree 'to the death'?" Steve frowns. He's not ready to give up yet. He can feel how close they are.

"That wasn't literal!"

A hand tightens on his shoulder. "Vecna just decimated us. We can't kill him with two players."

"You too?" Dustin sounds just as annoyed as Steve feels. "Vecna only has 15 more hit points left, don't be pussies!"

"Pussies? Really? Cause we're not delusional?"

"No, no, Dustins right," Steve butts in. Barely holds back a warning to Dustin about his language; it's not the time for babysitting. "We're too close now, we can't give up!"

"HEY!" Eddie calls, easily drawing all their attention back to him. "If I may interject, gentleman… whilst I respect the passion, you'd be wise to take Garreth the Greats concern to heart. There is no shame in running. Don't try to be heroes. Not today."

Something about his smirk and stupid head tilt just makes Steve more determined. If he has to continue fighting this stupid game alone, god dammit, he will.

Steve only half pays attention to Mike talking strategy. He's already made up his mind.

"What do you say, Elora?" Dustin turns to him, looking uncertain.

"We can kill him." Steve sounds more sure than he probably has any right to be. But he is. He can feel it in his bones. They can win.

"Fuck yeah we can," he grins at Steve. The others look more uncertain. Dustin turns back to Eddie, shoulders back, chin up and looking almost proud. "Let's kill this son of a bitch!"

Dustin gets first roll and it's bad.

It's all down to Steve.

He can feel how tense everyone is. Dustin and Gareth start yelling when he takes to long. But he can't roll yet, follows his gut; he has to get this right, has to roll at the right time.

It's just like swinging a bat in baseball, he tells himself. Just gotta time it right…

He rolls.

The dice seems to move in slow motion. Steve can almost hear each time it bounces off the board. The tension is so thick that it almost chokes him, for a moment he's sure that he can't breath.

20.

There's a moment where no one reacts. Then Dustin yells, grabbing Steves arm and shaking him in his excitement. Mike, a more similar height, throws his arms around his shoulders. It's a little painful to have him shouting directly in his ear but, he too, is too excited to care.

The others have started yelling too, Eddie dramatically overacting his shock too. Steve can't help but laugh.

It takes a while for everyone to calm down. An even longer moment to stop talking enough so they can start packing their things up. Steve only brought his jacket and character sheet, so he stays stood at the end of the table to wait for the kids.

Eddie keeps glancing up at him as he packs most of the pieces away.

"Harrington," Grant grins at him. "Never thought I'd be saying this but... thanks for coming."

"Oh, uh, yeah, no problem," Steve tries to smile.

"Dude, you missed the championship game to save our asses in DnD," Gareth grins, throwing his arm over his shoulder. "Who woulda thought, though. Steve Harrington, huh?"

The other two laugh. Steve finally feels a little lighter, on safer ground.

"How the mighty have fallen, huh?" Steve tries. And they laugh, Jeff slapping him on the back.

At the doorway, he lingers for a moment, whilst everyone else starts heading down the hall.

"Thanks for letting me play," Steve says, turning to Eddie. "I know I'm not... uh..."

"Don't strain yourself," Eddie waves him off. "It's fine. The kids have raved about you enough for me to figure out that you're a good dude."

"Oh. Thanks."

"You should join their next campaign."

"I don't know. You're graduating, right?"

"Aww, you like me that much, big boy?" He puts a hand to his chest, batting his eyelashes.

But Steve remembers the rumors that went around, remembers exactly how true they were proven to be. And, well...

"What would you say if I am?" He fires back.

Eddie, true to his reputation, is never one to back down from a fight; "then I'd tell you to ask me out like you mean it."

"Alright. If you're free tomorrow, 8pm, would you wanna go on a date? With me?"

"You picking me up in your fancy car?"

"If you want."

"Yeah, I'm free."

"So... that's a yes?"

"Yes, that's a yes."

Steve can't help but fistpump, but it makes Eddie giggle, so he counts it as a win.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #altorprecanon #this thing has been in my drafts since august 2022 😭

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ineffablyruined · 1 year

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I want to talk about THAT smile. The one from the elevator. The one that scares us (or maybe just me).

This one:

It's stayed with me since the first time I saw it. Michael Sheen is an absolute master of his face, so this sinister smile means something. I don't believe that it's a forced smile that he's pasting on before he enters Heaven. It looks absolutely malevolent.

And I just couldn't figure out WHY.

Aziraphale just left everything he loves behind: humans, food, bookshop, and Crowley. Crowley most of all. He was devastated after that kiss, devastated that Crowley wouldn't just come with him so they could be together. He was hurt, shattered, unsure of himself and his decision. So why the practically evil face?

I don't subscribe to the Coffee Theory. I think it takes too much away from the emotional and character development and everything the fandom went through in those last 10 minutes for Neil to pull the rug out from under us like that.

So if he's not drugged, then what's the face?

The Metatron just dropped a bomb on him. The Second Coming. Heaven's going to restart the apocalypse. End the Earth. The place where he'd just left the love of his life and everything he holds dear. Make everything they'd fought for absolutely meaningless.

And then I remembered this face:

See how similar they are?

I've seen a lot of people put this down to a repeat body swap theory, but I don't buy that either. I think that would be less inspired than what we've come to expect from the brilliance of Neil's and Terry's minds.

I'm going on a bit of a tangent here for a second, but I promise it will make sense in a minute. When the demons were coming for them, Nina told Aziraphale that he shouldn't wait to be saved by Crowley, that he should come up with his own plans and save himself. And he did, but it wasn't a total plan. It was the beginnings of one. He held them off, but when his plan ran out of time, it put him and the two humans (except maybe not -> looking at you, Maggie) he's come to care about at risk. Then he had to do something reckless and probably stupid, and it worked, but it was too close.

Back to the matter at hand:

These two perfectly wonderful, complete f*cking morons have spent the last 4 years together. Probably daily. And do you know what happens when you spend so much time together?

You start picking up the other person's mannerisms, mirroring speech patterns and body language.

My theory:

Aziraphale spent that elevator ride coming up with a plan. He's come up with something that he thinks will be so clever, so unexpected of him (an angel), so Crowley-esque, that the Metatron will never see it coming. And he's not about to cock it up like he did in the bookshop, show up with only a half-baked plan.

No. He's got something positively diabolical. Something inspired by Crowley. So he makes the face that he's learned from spending four years in the daily company of the original owner of that expression. The only face he could possibly make when figuring out how to save the world and get back to his demon. And thinking about how much he can't wait to tell a Crowley how clever he's been.

That face is 6000 years of togetherness in the making.

#good omens meta #good omens spoilers #good omens s2 spoilers #gos2 spoilers #gos2 meta #elevator smile #aziraphale elevator #crowley x aziraphale #aziraphale x crowley #good omens season 2 spoilers #go2 #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable idiots #good omens

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theshitpostcalligrapher · 8 months

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please tell me this manga/comic/show exists i do not wanna have to make it

okok I've posted about this before but I'm watching animation content on youtube again while getting work done and by GOD I WANNA TALK ABOUT THIS AGAIN

There's a specific concept I want to consume as content/art so badly but it came to me in a stupid dream. BUT. Sometimes, a dream means I DID see a hint of it somewhere and my brain accidentally plagiarized it which provides me with the teensiest sliver of hope that exists already and I don't have to work on it

It's a kind of a reverse isekai, right? But instead of an instant portal, it's time passing. And what I mean by that is that it's a Sun Wukong story, but the branch off is that after the main events of Journey to the West he gets either water temple'd or trapped in magic sleep again, not for a few hundred years but a few THOUSAND.

He wakes up to an incredibly far-flung China that remembers his myth and only his myth.

The art style that operated in this dream was sort of. Textured but 3D? Think nimona's buttery lighting but instead of emphasis on light and shapes to operate with the stained glass and solarpunk-medieval style the models are textured in a way that just invokes traditional brushwork and colour bleed even in a more cyberpunkish setting. Think like. Whenever there's a night scene the astigmatism glow of lamplight bleeds a little, like ink feathering on paper.

It's a little bit of a Steve Rogers treatment in a way, the world has moved past him, but also completely mythologized and capitalized on that mythology. Rather than treat that man out of time narrative as an aspect of backstory, it's the MAIN character narrative, because this ISN'T a world that needs him. This world is doing pretty okay, actually.

This a story about him.

Not about his feats or how cool his powers are or the 8 gajillion things the magic staff can do but just.

How ya doing, bud?

From the vaguely coherent notes that I could garner from my sleepily typed googledoc, it seems that I wanted this to be a love letter of sorts to the Asian diaspora experience? A specific sort of loneliness? Where the world you experience has a sort of disconnect in that it makes plain you belong there but you also don't, you never have, and there's no way to go "back" but going forward feels like groping blind through the muck. How much right to the past does he feel like he has? When it's been built into something he can't recognize and is clearly important to other people.

I want the pickup of the plot to gain him friends, family, maybe even a conflict or two but the stakes should never elevate vis a vis physical enemies to battle.

It'd be about 2/3 of this sort of narrative drawn story and the other 1/3 just hogwild worldbuilding and design

I've looked at a few other journey to the west adaptations but they mainly just use him as a funky lil action figure hero that's there to be cool as hell and save the day

99% likely this is just a thing my brain is made up and I'd need a several million budget and about 25 additional skills to start the ball rolling but hey, worth it to ask yall again

#sun wukong #journey to the west #mia dreams #i get these cinematic dreams once every now and again maybe i'll use that tag to post more of em

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a-dauntless-daffodil · 2 months

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chaggie talk post charlie's ex dropping by the hotel, time for hugs

Charlie: "....Vaggie?"

(THUNK)

Vaggie: "Charlie- Oh sweetie hi! I was just uh..."

Charlie: "Using a picture of my ex for target practice?"

Vaggie: (slumping) "Sorry."

Charlie: "Don't be! Look like you had pretty good aim, heheh!" (hugs gf) "I'm sorry he showed up today like that."

Vaggie: "Totally not your fault, babe. That was all him."

Charlie: "You really hate him, huh?"

Vaggie: "I don't even know the guy."

Charlie: "You hate what you do know about him."

Vaggie: "Yeah. Well. You dumped him for a reason. Right?"

Charlie: "Several."

Vaggie: "So how's seeing him again going? You okay? Him stopping by out of the blue like this..."

Charlie: "I'm okay!"

Vaggie: "Really."

Charlie: "I'm okay enough. I wish he'd been a little less HIM about it all but I'm okay!" (hugs tighter) "I have you. You make everything better."

Vaggie: "...."

Vaggie: (hugs back) "Charlie?"

Charlie: "Hm?"

Vaggie: "Do you want me to be honest?"

Charlie: "If you can. As much as you're okay with."

Vaggie: "......I wasn't okay with this. With him."

Charlie: "Never would have guessed. Not like you almost taking his head off with your spear was a pretty big hint or anything."

Vaggie: "I hated seeing how he could just walk back into your life like that."

Charlie: "He's not IN my life again, Vaggie, he's just helping with the hotel- well I guess right now he's probably already in a sex dungeon knowing Angel Dust-"

Vaggie: "A- sex dungeon?"

Charlie: "I'll tell you later. Tell me your stuff now?"

Vaggie: "...he's your ex."

Charlie: "Yes. Very."

Vaggie: "But you broke up with him just for annoying, normal things."

Charlie: "There was lot of them but also yes."

Vaggie: "He wasn't, isn't, a bad person."

Charlie: "He could use SOME character growth but yeah. A normal enough guy."

Vaggie: "He's not violent or cruel or anything."

Charlie: "Harmless like I said. He's also just. Well."

Vaggie: "Not a murderer."

Charlie: "Vaggie..."

Vaggie: "Sorry." (hides face) "Forget it."

Charlie: "No I- I didn't mean-"

Vaggie: "Forget it. What's Angel Dust doing with him?"

Charlie: "I don't know or care right now." (snuggles gf) "Please, keep going?"

Vaggie: "It's the same stupid thing as ever."

Charlie: "Not stupid. Important."

Vaggie: "Your ex drops by and I'm making it about me." (snorts) "Sounds pretty stupid."

Charlie: "No. It's not. My girlfriend is hurt and sad, and that's not something to just forget. It also makes it about me too, I think. Tell me?"

Vaggie: "...I just..."

Vaggie: (sighs)

Vaggie: "I'm just jealous."

Charlie: "Jealous? Of what? You don't have be- I don't have the slightest, tiniest interest in him anymore-"

Vaggie: "But it'd make sense if you did."

Charlie: "No it wouldn't! Why would you think-?"

Vaggie: "Did he ever keep a huge secret from you for years?"

Charlie: "No?"

Vaggie: "Or stand back and let some terrible news get dropped on you at the worst possible moment, just because he was too scared to tell you himself?"

Charlie: "Vaggie-"

Vaggie: "He never hurt you like I did, Charlie. Did he."

Charlie: "....."

Charlie: "He never could have... I didn't let him. I was never as close with him as I am with you."

Vaggie: "Why not? Why..."

Charlie: "He never wanted to talk seriously about the hotel or saving sinners. No one did but. But he'd get me talking about it in front of others, sometimes, just so he could swoop in and be the hero for me when they laughed. But they had to laugh at me first before he'd do the swooping."

Vaggie: "Asshole."

Charlie: "Kinda. You're not like that."

Vaggie: "Those are small things though, not, not secretly an Exorcist level things-"

Charlie: "They feel like big things to me."

Vaggie: "Still-"

Charlie: "Bigger than you having been something that you aren't anymore."

Vaggie: "But I still hurt you with it! And there were years when you thought we could be close without you getting hurt at all. That's why you even trusted me, right?"

Charlie: "You make it sound like I planned it out. Vaggie, I just, I kept waking up happy. Everyday, I was just glad you were here."

Vaggie: "..."

Charlie: "I am happy you're here."

Vaggie: "..."

Vaggie: "...past me was so stupid, Charlie."

Charlie: "She was scared. When I thought maybe you didn't really want to be here with me, I got scared too."

Vaggie: "And angry."

Charlie: "You think so?" (chuckles) "So did I fool you?"

Vaggie: "Fool me? Sweetie, you were glaring daggers. Completely deserved daggers but yeah, I did notice them."

Charlie: "I was scared I'd cry every time I looked at you. I HATED not being sure I could hug you, or if I ever would again, and putting on an angry face helped me not, well, break down ugly sobbing."

Vaggie: "It's okay if you were angry, that's a normal thing when-"

Charlie: "I was upset! But if I'd been pissed at you, my horns would've been out. Where they ever?"

Vaggie: "No."

Charlie: "No~"

Vaggie: "... I've another stupid confession-"

Charlie: "I'm vetoing that word!"

Vaggie: "Alright alright." (laughs) "I've got another HONEST confession to make."

Charlie: "I'd love to hear it."

Vaggie: "I was. A little. Disappointed seeing you with Seviathan."

Charlie: "I wasn't with him-"

Vaggie: "Talking to him. Whatever."

Charlie: "Okay. Why?"

Vaggie: "This is gonna sound horrible."

Charlie: "You're judgement on horrible stuff to do with you is a liiiiittle bit skewed so maybe get a second opinion? Like mine?"

Vaggie: "..... you weren't pissed off just from seeing him."

Charlie: "I mean I wouldn't say I was happy about it either-"

Vaggie: "You're horns weren't out."

Charlie: "No?"

Vaggie: "You weren't even glaring."

Charlie: "Glaring at what, he was just standing there with his hand on my arm- Oh."

Vaggie: "Yeah."

Charlie: "OH!"

Vaggie: "I was more than one kind of jealous."

Charlie: "Vaggie- that-" (burst into giggles) "I didn't even notice he was doing that! It's probably just muscle memory for him!"

Vaggie: "Yeah." (growls) "I figured."

Charlie: "Awww my poor girl~"

Vaggie: "Ugh."

Charlie: "Don't worry, I know what will cheer you right up! You wanna hear how I almost threw him out of the hotel after you left?"

Vaggie: "...You told him to get out?"

Charlie: "Threw, Vaggie. Physically. Almost right out the door."

Vaggie: "Seriously?" (looks up) (grinning) "What'd he do?"

Charlie: "He asked if you were s- uhhhhhhhhhh that's not the important point! Point is, I was PISSED, and if YOU want to keep using his picture as a dart board for your spear throwing time then that's fine by me!!"

Vaggie: "Thanks babe." (smooch) "Talking is good, doing the talking with you feels good, but stabbing also makes me feel better too."

Charlie: "Really? How much better?"

Vaggie: "Wanna find out?"

Charlie: "Oh I shouldn't..."

Charlie: (looks thoughtfully at seviathan's picture)

Vaggie: (offers spear)

Charlie: "....but maaaabye... if it helps me understand MY girlfriend better..." (takes spear)

Vaggie: "Lot of emphasis on the 'my' part there, babe."

Charlie: "Well you are! Mine. My girlfriend."

Vaggie: "As your girlfriend I could stand behind you and correct your stance if you wanted me to."

Charlie: "With your hands on my hips?"

Vaggie: "Where else?"

Charlie: (grinning) "Nowhere."

#hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #vaggie #chaggie #incorrect quotes #fluff and angst #they try the talking thing

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velvetures · 3 months

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Hello loves💕 I still can't get over your writing I'm obsessed!!

I would love to request Roommate König x fem reader. König hears you fucking some guy on the other side of the wall and he can tell you faked it so once the dude is gone he's got you over his shoulder and is walking you to his bedroom to fuck you right. I love the idea of her trying to get him to confess to her and trying anything after months or years of mutual pining, her last resort is to make him jealous.

Overheard

a/n: I'm so sorry for being so slow my love... I always have the worst self-confidence with nsfw reqs. I constantly write them, delete them, and start all over... (this is like... the 8th full-draft retry) So I hope you'll forgive me if this isn't up to standard. Also, I know this trope has been covered by some really talented writers and I hoped to do it justice, and not feel like a carbon copy of something better. (ps. This shit is too long... but I knew if I deleted anything, I'd delete the whole thing over again.)

tw's: 18+ ONLY, nameless hookup, alluded unprotected sex w/side character, unintentional orgasm denial, the reader is mentally not in the best place for sex (disconnected), voyeurism, jealously, fem-oral receiving, fem-fingering receiving, dirty talk, König being a bit of a loser, König omitting his lack of experience, aftercare.

His mom kept saying it was about time to settle down. That the biological clock, normally pushed on women, was ever-present and ticking against his favor. But his sweet, innocent, mother didn’t know the depth of his awkwardness. Not even the slightest idea that her well-mannered boy, turned praise-worthy Colonel was nothing but a bumbling fucking idiot when it came to speaking with women. In the field, sure. He could give orders, discuss tactics, and even bullshit with the best of the best… but if a woman was among those? Oh hell. It was like trying to talk to a brick wall with a randomly developed stuttering issue.

He didn’t understand where it came from either.

It wasn’t like his mother was one of the overbearing types that made dating impossible, and nor did he exactly have the worst time when he was younger with women being interested. It was just… after they showed interest, that became the struggle. Relaxing wasn’t possible. Not when he knew that a woman’s perception of him was far higher than that of any man. Believing that even the smallest of gestures and phrases could earn him an immediate dismissal, and his name or photo being sent in some group-chat to be berated after a first date. He didn’t blame any of the women though… he knew what he looked like. What he sounded like… and God, how miserable his personality was compared to what his career and position would lead others to assume.

A shred of truth could always be found in his mother’s warning though.

He’d gone years without any meaningful relationship where the softer, side of a woman could be found. He found bastardized ways of getting a taste, but he could only allocate so much money a month to porn sites and camgirls without feeling like a total sleaze. The Colonel felt much more confident mapping out a prospective warzone than the contours of a woman’s body, and fuck… it made him more than a little embarrassed to admit. Enough so, that when you mentioned that your rental agreement was coming to an end, and you were trying to find somewhere new to stay, he offered for you to just move in with him.

He owned. Which made the idea of ‘rent’ or you paying it almost unquestionably stupid. It made the deal a little sweeter -in his mind- for you to agree, and then he wouldn’t have to be quite so personally diligent on logging onto online portals to pay utilities. That is, if he could get you to move in. And while in his own mind and body, every synapse screamed that he was being unrealistic, you hadn’t caught on. He’d looked just as stoic and cold as ever when he propositioned that you just start moving over your things into his house. Save money… it’ll be easier for you; He’d said, hard eyes glancing over your face. You thought saying ‘yes’ was anxiety-inducing? König nearly passed out in his office after walking there on numb feet and weak knees.

In the week following, he brought you a small ring of keys, and you started moving your life into his, one cardboard box at a time. And every night after returning from his on-base duties, he would have to physically restrain himself from opening up the taped flaps and getting a peek at the unattended items sitting by the front door. At the time, he thought it was nothing more than unchecked curiosity and instinct to feel-out a new situation. Just simply wanting to learn more about you before you started sleeping over. Merely the soldier in him. But box, by box, that curiosity didn’t dampen down. Even when your items began making their way out of their containers and enmeshing with his around the house.

Tea cups in the kitchen cabinet next to his thicker, coffee mugs. Throw blankets rolled and stacked in the far corning of the couch he rarely sat on. A little rug you’d tossed down in the kitchen in front of the stove with a little floral print that he’d been utterly possessed to not get any stains on while cooking, or by taking off his boots before walking inside. And while never claiming to be a ‘minimalist’ man, he learned right away that his house was nothing short of a hotel when it came to personality.

You’d brought at least five full walls worth of decor. Little trinkets and cute things from all over the world you’d been sneaky enough to stuff into the pockets of your gear. And all of it, had initially been shoved into an empty linen closet he’d been perfect happy with you claiming as your own since it was ‘on your side of the house’. That was, until he found himself noticing that you’d put more than “storage” things away, and had silently refused to put them where they belonged.

On the damn walls.

“I don’t decorate well anyways..” It’d been his excuse… or at least something along those lines. Maybe a little bit more gruff. Guarded. Because even in his own home, he had the tendency of walking around like someone was going to sneak up behind him.

So one week, while he was away, you took the permission and ran with it. Buying the picture hanging kits, and everything else needed to begin covering the Colonel’s walls with your amassed collection of utterly unnecessary, but brain-scratching decorations, art, and collectable junk. Spending a good half hour walking around the halls and rooms with a little smile of accomplishment on your face seeing the colonel’s house feeling more like a home. Totally unaware that he’d been checking the security cameras dotted around, watching you scale a shitty stepladder, climb the kitchen cabinets, and struggle to lift the more heavy items. All the while, growing more and more intrigued with this new arrangement. Debating whether he liked it or not. Rapt attention making the instinctive suggestion that you’d make a good wife far less perverse than he should’ve felt it to be.

Missions took precedence though. And it kept both of you busy more than not. Fully living adjacent instead of in a more dependent role. But there were decidedly small decisions that needed to be made. Like who was in charge of buying groceries, and getting essentials that you both used. König ended up just leaving cash on the counter once a week so you could take care of his end for him. Saving the trouble of a second loaf of bread being bought, or doubling up on paper towels after a miscommunication lead to fifty rolls of the shit needing to be stored somewhere. You did the job more than credibly, and it got you out of the house too.

Which was good, because you rarely left.

Not unlike him, you preferred your time spent in calm situations. Either reading reports, answering emails, and other related tasks before just closing that tab on your laptop and opening up an new one to watch a show or scroll on your phone. You appeared to thrive in his house when you could curl up like some little bird in a nest and just rest. Developing almost permanently sleepy eyes when you came through the door, and a softer tone of voice that took some getting used to. König didn’t exactly understand it. Why your demeanor changed so much within the house, and how it got substantially much more noticeable when your schedules aligned for both of you to be there at the same time.

A solid seven months or more passed before he got his answer. And from your late-night scrolling nonetheless.

Some woman, blabbering on about her husband, and all of the ways that he effected her life once she moved in with him. And, honestly, König wasn’t listening all that much. Having just begun sitting on the other end of the couch with you, since it was where you spent your evenings after dinner. And, it’d become a little bit of a new experience. Just being halfway close to you. Interacting, but not. A safe way to enjoy your presence without any expectations. But that woman on your phone caught his attention when she made the joke about being tired all the time. Tired. Sleepy. All the fucking time. He had to stare down at the TV to keep his head from snapping in your direction.

Apparently it was chemical. Some little thing in the back of a woman’s mind that men didn’t have the complexity to experience the same way. That this woman -and you- were so mentally focused for such a long time, that when the right person was around you, and created a safe space, it acted like a the strongest sleeping pill in existence. Flooding you with dopamine and melatonin to the point that your pretty face got even sweeter with those deep, sleepy looks and constant yawns at all times of the day. Getting a glimpse of you tapping the screen twice, and then tapping at your keyboard to leave a comment only reinforced his inquisitiveness. From the moving boxes, to watching you on cameras while away… and now realizing that you acted so sweet and docile around the house because of him..? He didn’t know how to control himself, and still find a way to keep figuring you out.

Wanting more…

Needing a chance to find out if things could go further than just living in his house.

Dating wasn’t a walk in the park for you either. Call it a hazard of military work. Computers and filing paperwork was more your speed than the guns and blood that König was accustomed to, but it still limited the amount of men who were interested. Especially in the long-term.

It really came down to the uniform and lack of free time that could be allotted to the guys that you did have the fortune to meet. They wanted to take you on dates, and your superiors preferred you stay late to take minutes for a meeting. They always suggested you take a vacation, since it was clear just how tired you were on a daily basis. But vacations were practically a laughable dream you knew wouldn’t come to fruition until you finally were sent the retirement packet everyone in the service dreamed of. But.. on the rare occasion, you did have the energy to entertain a man for a night. Just. One. Night.

Thankfully König was out.

Such good timing considering you’d spent nearly a week, taking your sweet time to wring orgasms out of yourself just for the sheer frustration of getting them, and still not feeling satisfied. Instinctively missing the warmth of skin on skin and the dynamic of having someone else provide and take pleasure from you. Even getting on the app had felt more like a shopping trip than a chance to go on a date. Looking through photos and bios with nothing more on your mind than someone big enough, and pretty enough to make the ordeal worth it. The guy who answered back to your painfully blatant request for a good fuck, didn’t ask any questions either. Just asked politely asked if you wanted to go to him, or vice versa and gave you ample time to get yourself ready before the knock on the front door.

Your mental ruined any chance of having a good time though.

The poor guy sucking at your neck and grunting soft praises was nice… but you couldn’t get into it. Feeling tense. Going through the motions. Foreplay becoming an act of forced moans to reassure the guy genuinely trying to make you feel good, and unable to even make eye contact for a slightly guilty feeling that pervaded your thoughts. Hell, you even refused to have missionary, just to make sure that your facial expressions didn’t have to constantly match the fake whimpers and whines.

John… Joe… Jacob… whatever his name was, he was honestly a sweet guy. Giving your clit attention, no just shoving his cock in you without prep, and actively checking in without making it overbearing. On another day, you’d have really been trying harder to impress him. Give the impression that you were interested in him for more than the sex you couldn’t surrender to. Hope that he liked you enough to stick around. But deep down, you thought better of it. Withholding your feelings to ensure that when he left you alone for the night, that you wouldn’t hate yourself.

König, on the other hand, came home a bit earlier than expected. Walking in the door quietly to expect a silent house, and you sleeping in your bed or on the couch after waiting up for him. Only to be stunned with wet, skin slapping and familiar, pathetic, whimpers getting overrun by deep grunts and low, almost whispered sounds from a man.

God… you were getting fucked.

His whole chest tightened in embarrassment and his face felt hot. You’d never been quite this comfortable… at least to his knowledge. Plenty of nights he had overheard the faint sounds of you getting off alone… soft little moans and gentle hums of a vibrator filtering down the hallway to him. But he’d never heard anything quite that… loud. Even when you fucked yourself on a dildo -he’d always been too curious not to listen intently- the slick sounds of your cunt always made louder noise than your voice. As mortified as he was hearing it… part of him knew something was wrong. Like his whole body was stiff, realizing that you weren’t enjoying it. Faking it… for some unknown reason.

Why couldn’t you say something? Surely you could ask him to… to do something different right? To let you use a toy? Or… or touch your clit? Whatever it took to help you enjoy yourself. But those pinched, almost broken moans starting grating on him within seconds. Stalking towards your bedroom door quietly, and leaning against the wall. Eyes closed and his breath getting heavier with each imagined scene in his head that developed. Picturing him doing all the wrong things… Touching you… tasting you… and living out his own pleasure without the slightest idea that every sound out of your mouth was a fucking lie.

König’s jaw clenched. Resisting a sudden desire to bang on the door or make some other loud noise that would bring this all to an end. Even his fist clenched at his side flinched towards the bedroom door, as if he was insane enough to actually bust in.

What would he even do?

The question rang out a bit too harshly in his mind.

He didn’t have the first idea how to… do better. To make you feel good, or any woman really. Plenty of jealousy rose in his throat at the thought of that bastard fucking you, but he hadn’t even touched a pussy in years. And the last time he did it, he was, pathetically inexperienced. Using his huge fingers to try and prep his partner, but not hitting any of the right spots. Accidentally taking a clinical approach, and it left him feeling like a damn gynecologist instead of a good fuck.

He couldn’t please you, no matter how much he wanted to…

The sobering thought forced him to back away from your bedroom door. But pride alone forced him into the kitchen, leaning against the counter with a glass of scotch in his hand. The last -and unavoidable- line of defense before the front door. No doubt in his mind that if nothing else, he’d get a good look at the man you’d brought home for a disappointing night of sex. Wanting to at least humiliate the bastard for a few seconds. Because while he knew himself to not be an acceptable partner, the guy currently riding out his high in your bedroom wasn’t going to know it. And seeing him -in his daily fatigues- and his hood, would give any man a moment of pause.

You felt sticky. Hot. And more than a little achy in all the wrong ways as Jeff… Josh… whoever the fuck he was, removed himself form your bed and began pulling on his jeans. Watching cautiously as he excused himself into your bathroom -sweetly- offering you a wet washcloth and a too-shy smile for a man who’d just come all over your stomach.

You didn’t bother putting on pants to walk him out to the front door. Too disappointed and stuck in your own head to see König standing in the corner of the kitchen. His dark eyes glaring daggers at your… ‘guest’ who was much more observant, and stood stock still. Shirt in his hands, and forced to raise his gaze more than normal to get the best look at the terrifying man looming in the shadows. It took you far longer than it should’ve. To trace Jonah… Josiah’s… gaze, and recognize your roommate. And even longer to remember that you weren’t wearing pants.

“Hey man…”

You had to give what’s-his-name credit for being as casual as he sounded. Because in all honesty, you were just as taken aback. Shuffling to stand behind the guy just enough that your bare pussy and ass weren’t totally out for him to see.

“Evening…” König sounded… bored? Not his normal tone. “Heading out already?” The guy you were using as a shield, just nodded his head. Looking a bit apologetic, but still anxious.

“Yeah, man…” He pulled his head over his shirt, patting his pockets for the jingle of car keys before glancing back at you with an truly apologetic smile, and a clear unpreparedness for the situation. “I… uh…. thanks for… letting me come over…”

You can’t manage more than a nod. No smile, no reassuring touch to him… nothing. Just a silent acknowledgment and the subsequent scamper over to the couch to grab a blanket to cover yourself up.

Shit… König fucking waved bye…

He didn’t expect you to come out. Nor to get his first-ever look at your pussy. And god it’d taken a lot of restraint not to just stare at you and memorize what he could get get a look at. You just looked soft. So fucking small and soft… A slight sheen of sweat on your face and the roots of your hair damp from the erotic affair.

Too bad it was all an act.

“Thanks for letting him come, huh?” He can’t resist… the guy just hadn’t been cautious enough to not fuel the fire of jealously in him.

Seeing you wrap that blanket around you tighter, avoiding all eye contact, and even turning your side to him a bit… it makes him smile under his hood. An amused one. A sickeningly happy sort of feeling rising in his gut where you appear vulnerable under his gaze. You’re already much more expressive just talking to him than you’d sounded with that bastards cock inside you.

“Didn’t think you’d be back for a while…” Your valid excuse falls a bit flat, especially when those dark brown eyes scan your entire body. He lifts his tumbler of scotch under his hood, nodding before taking a long drink. Feeling a secondary burn that soothes the heat building everywhere else in him.

“I can see that…” He chuckles lowly. To him, it sounds unsure… and maybe tinged with anger, jealously. But on your face, he’s clear that you don’t recognize it. Far too embarrassed to see that there’s just as much uncertainty flooding him as well. “Could hear it too…”

He literally sees your shoulders sink. The wave of embarrassment. Part of him loves it. Knowing you’re experiencing some of the same things he is. That you to, know what it’s like to leave a bed feeling like things didn’t go right, and there’s a guilt that hardens like sediment in your gut. Yet the other half, resists pushing harder. Using this same, defensive, and chastising tone. To give you just a bit of respite, because, he’s not really mad… he’s just fuming with jealously.

“If I knew… I wouldn’t have…” You can’t manage much more. Both of you knowing damn well this wouldn’t have happened if you knew what his arrival was going to be. You always kept so good to his schedules… and not just because this was his house. But because you were so genuinely sweet around him.

“Been so loud?” He suggests, downing the last gulp of his scotch and pushing away from the counter. “Speaking of that…” His gaze lingers on your throat… those faked moans echoing in his mind.

“I didn’t know it was common practice for women to walk their fucktoys to the door… especially when he doesn’t make you come.”

If your stomach was twisting before, there wasn’t a doubt now. And god… you couldn’t tell if it was that he was home, or his voice, or just the edged-feeling of your aching pussy; but König was making you squirm. More than he’d ever done before… and you’d gotten yourself off to the thought of him plenty of times before when no other fantasy had done the trick.

“I finished.” You defend, tightening the blanket around your waist and tucking your bare feet under the excess material pooling on the floor.

König’s eyes blacken, and he laughs lowly. It’s the closest you’ve seen to his behavior when he’s interrogating someone. His power of knowing all the right answers and just dangling the freedom to lie right in front of your face. Maddening, to say the least. And enough to make your thighs flex together.

“I’d like to believe you…” he begins, making leisurely steps closer. “Yet, I’ve spent more nights than I care to admit hearing you come… and what I just hear… is nothing close to the real thing.”

“It’s different with—when it’s not just me.” You gape at him, trying to find anger at the audacity.

Searching for something other than a feeling of arousal knowing that despite your muffled cries into pillows, he’d still heard you at night. Still listened, and if nothing else, knew what your true pleasure sounded like to call you on bullshit. He shrugs, massive hands resting on his hips. Watching them sway a little as he keeps getting closer. Testing the boundary lines you no doubt had. Pushing and prodding at weak spots, and wondering if he can set foot on the living room rug you stood at the center of.

“Different, huh?” The fake acceptance doesn’t last long. “So if I asked for proof… you’d have it?”

“Proof?” You choke out. “What kind of proof could I even give you?” There are plenty running around in your head, all of them raunchier than the previous. But you’re almost desperate to hear him say it.

“Sweetheart, you’ve got the wettest fucking cunt I’ve ever heard,” He growls softly. “You never finish yourself off without making the slickest goddamn noises. Can hear it from down the hallway like it’s playing off my phone.” He adds, voice getting gritty, eyes lowering towards your hips and back up.

“Show me, that is… if he really did make you come.”

Air in your lungs evaporates. God it’s criminal how fucking lewd anything could sound coming from his mouth. And your dry pussy is pathetically getting wetter by the second. Fluttering muscles twitching with each filthy admission he makes. You’re already resorting to putting pressure against your clit by flexing your legs, trying to deny the feelings. Excusing it all by the still-lingering desire for release and not König. Not moving, and a miserable lack of a response forces him to approach faster. Stepping onto the rug serving as a mental barrier for you.

“Embarrassed?” He asks, head tilting a little and stretching the hood to pull away from his chest a little. Putting a bit more of his chest on display in that tight t-shirt.

You shake your head defiantly.

“Oh? Okay then… you should be able to show me then, right? Pretty girl like you, wanting to get fucked… Should be more than willing to brag that you got satisfied. That he left you satiated…”

Your face burns. Debating how to answer. If it’s even smart to try and test your voice in the first place.

“Nothing to see… got-got cleaned up…” God the miserable truth that your no-name partner’s cum was the only thing needing cleaned off of you hits like a punch to the gut.

A massive hand grabs at the blanket in your grip stops all possibility of lying anymore. A warning. Gentle, for sure and meant to be just a small test of consent. However, you too far into this to not want more. He’s just hitting all the right buttons, whether he means to or not.

“How about I… check for myself?” He asks lowly, free hand -covered in a glove- sliding up under his hood and returning into sight with the achingly sexy sight of a huge, scarred hand. His meaning isn’t lost on you, and it’s almost like your cunt floods in anticipation.

“Slide my hand between your pretty thighs, and see just how good he treated you…” He murmurs, trailing fingers down the two sides of the blanket pulled together. “Let me see if that pussy is fucking drenched like she deserves to be.”

“König.” You warn softly, eyes darting down to his hand and back to his eyes.

Not the slightest bit worried about him touching you. Not at all. But about what would happen after all the tension faded. What would come of your relationship if you fucked… or, just made things complicated in general.And he pauses, looking to you a bit cooler. His breathing still heavy, and laden with emotion.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You’re desperate to think of a way to explain yourself, but the most basic, stupid, comment comes out of your mouth.

“I don’t want this to end badly.”

He straightens just a bit. But his hands don’t move. And while from your perspective, it seems he’s hesitating on whether or not to continue, that’s not what’s got him stuck mere inches away from slipping his fingers between your folds.

He’s worried you know. That you’ve caught on to his inexperience, and are merely defending yourself from a second bad experience in one night. And god it makes this throat burn. Desperate to defend himself and prove that while -yes- he’s more than a little bit lost when it comes to the manual process, he’s still going to be the most teachable fucking man you’ve ever met.

“I’ll listen so well…” He eventually mutters, stepping just a bit closer. Voice lowering and a hint of desperation entering it. “Can—can give you everything you want… Just need to tell me…” he adds, unable to look you in the eyes.

It’s not exactly what you were expecting to hear, but it still strokes that burn between your thighs. Especially when his hands grip your hips through the blanket wrapped around you. Groping softly, massaging at the fat over your muscles and feeling hungry just to touch you.

“I… I don’t want things to be awkward afterwards.” You try to reexplain. Hoping the clarification will help him see why you hadn’t already leaned into his commanding touch.

“Awkward,” he repeats, as if it’s a foreign idea. Like it’d never crossed his mind. “Don’t plan on ignoring you anymore… Not—Not after hearing that… and knowing… fuck…”

“He couldn’t have listened… please tell me you tried to tell him what to do… what you wanted,” His rambles get more panicked. Like every thought in his head is equally important and he can’t take the time to pick one and let me even answer. “Should’ve asked what your pussy needed… how to make you feel good… make those pretty sounds..”

You’re half dazed just watching his breathy words fan the material of his hood to react to his boot kicking your feet apart. Wide hand sliding between your thighs and groaning. A deep, guttural sound that reminds of him being winded. And really… he probably should be. Because your inner thighs are dry to the touch. The wetness he’d been creating still not enough to make much fuss over. But he’s not satisfied with that alone. Immediately curling a finger to spread your lips, feeling the thick, slick of new arousal that had been nothing, if not his doing.

“Ohh, you poor baby…” He sighs lowly, head rolling back at the mere sensation of your pussy under his fingertips. Feeling you a bit anxiously, yet getting a buzz in the back of his skull when your hole pulses against his prodding touch. “Left you so fucking hot…”

It’s a fast movement but he’s got you off your feet and dropped down onto the couch in one swift move. Your back arched in the slumped position and the blanket that’d been covering your -pathetic- modesty, fluttered open on both sides of your hips. Leaving your core exposed to his hungry and heavy-lidded eyes. Letting out a little whine of a sound when he slowly drops to a knee; tracing his hands down your inner thighs like he was scared of touching you too harshly.

“König, please…” You gasp out, watching his thumb run over your swollen labias. Pinching your fat lips together softly and inadvertently putting delicious pressure on your swollen clit. He curses under his breath, free hand grabbing your thigh with bruising strength.

“Tell me how to please you,” He commands, eyes flashing dangerously wide in the icy moonlight streaming through the living room windows. “I need to make you come.”

His desperate, and knows you can see it. His whole body shakes seeing your flushed pussy a mere foot away from his face, and nothing but opportunity and his hood preventing him from burying his face in it. Watching as you shyly reach for his wrist, guiding his hand where you want it. Extending his fingers and whimpering when your motion for him to rub small circles over your clit sends those to-intense waves of pleasure through your pussy.

“Like that… just like that…” You’re able to praise with a shaky nod of your head.

Rocking your hips in tandem with his movements and nearly crying out in relief when he diligently keeps the same pressure to you despite your little twitches and grinds. Allowing you the freedom to plant your feet on the edge of the couch and simply feel. König’s lost in it. Lost in the sight of you. Your pretty mouth gaping open and your hips chasing the touch he’s providing. His breath catching when you cry out or give a weak praise for his work. Like you’re enjoyingwhat he’s doing.

But god he’s happy to stay right where you want him, how you want him. Feeling his knee dig into the harsh floorboards, and ignoring it with a refreshed feeling of duty he’d long lost as a soldier. Never had he been given such a pretty fucking prize to work for. Nothing as sweet as seeing your cunt drip from his rough fingers rubbing soft, almost too-soft circles over it. Not even realizing that he’d spent almost fifteen minutes just rubbing your clit lazily when your hand reaches back down. Happy to direct him yet again, especially when he doesn’t even need a verbal direction to do exactly what you want.

“Fingers,” You whisper through panting exhales. “Give me your fingers…”

Your little hand grabs his pointer and middle fingers, spreading your own slick over them like a goddamn professional before guiding him down to your aching hole. Letting go just long enough to feel the thick digits press though that first little ring of tightened muscle. Forcing your eyes open to witness his mostly-hidden expression as he sinks knuckle deep inside of you.

“So fucking pretty,” His head shakes a little, lost in the creamy slick gathering at the base of his fingers as he curls him up towards your pelvis just a little. Subconsciously scared to do the wrong thing, but desperate to keep your cunt flex and mold to his touch. “Tell me, sweetheart… show me what she needs.”

You’re too possessed to chase your high to not listen. Readjusting your bent legs on the couch to gently lift your hips and sink them back down. Slowly getting used to the feeling of his thick fingers, already deeper than your no-name partner. Groaning when they bump into your g-spot just hard enough to make your clit burn. Grinding against his hand and keeping one hand wrapped around his wrist just to try and ground yourself to the present situation. Lost in the rhythm of fucking yourself -quite literally- stupid within mere minutes. Beginning to hear that vulgar, sucking sound of your pussy gripping his fingers and utterly drooling over his palms.

König’s helpless to so more than sing your praise. “That’s a good girl… so good for me. Using me like a fucking toy.”

It’s the best he’s felt in a long time. Watching you take from him. Too absorbed to even think about anything other than yourself. Not in enough control to even worry about the true moans and yelps escaping you. Real pleasure wracking your body and burning every nerve ending.

“More… please more…” You cry softly, hips slowing to a painfully sexy grind as you squeeze the tendons in his wrist with your thumb.

König takes a little more initiative than he’s normally comfortably using, but adds a third finger. Slowly pumping them in and out, little by little, to help you adjust. Watching as your eyebrows pinch together in focus. A low growl rumbles in his chest, his mouth practically watering as your cunt sucks him in.

“Let me taste it, baby…” He huffs, head flinching forwards before backing off, repeating the action a couple more times. “Wanna help… just—just let me taste you…”

You clench around his fingers when he rests his cheek against your inner thigh. Big, wide eyes pleading with you so innocently like he isn’t stretching your hole wider than the biggest of your toys can with nothing but a few fingers. Forcing you to slow the roll of your hips, a shaky hand reaching out to cup his face through the mask. Rubbing a thumb over his hidden cheekbone with a little whimpered hum. Pulling his head closer to you, hissing when the hem of his hood merely grazes your clit.

“How’d you want it?” He asks, head down and pulling his mask up so you’re stuck. Forced to merely feel his mouth so close to you, and not see the shape of his mouth.

“Lick-lick my clit… s-soft…” You whine, eye shutting when the hot fan of his exhale his your fevered skin.

Holding his head steady with one hand, you almost coming up off the couch when his tongue makes one, long, lazy, lap between your folds. Gripping at the material of his hood just tight enough that he ends up ripping the whole thing off. Tossing it to the floor with an aggressive snarl that rumbles against your clit. Sparks of pleasure forcing your thighs apart and jerking your hips back up. Chasing his mouth. The rough texture of his tongue, and the slight graze of his teeth against your slicked folds.

Your orgasm approaches fast from there. Between his fingertips stroking you deep, and the new rhythm of his tongue lapping your slick up to massage your clit, it’s hard to even warn König that he can’t stop for risk of ruining your long-awaited release.

“König… K… oh… fuucckk…”

Your back arches tightly, both hands grabbing harshly at his hair with an unintelligible shout as you come. Jerking wildly and one of your feet losing it’s hold on the edge of the couch. Trying to fight through the shocks of pleasure, and groaning curses with a hoarse throat. Feeling König’s free hand latch onto your thigh to keep you from running away too far from his still-working lips and tongue. Sucking up the wet drips of release trying to drip down his hand.

“Slow, slow down.” You whimper, pushing at his forehead just a little. The pressure too much. The stretch of his fingers still satisfying but overstimulating.

Your so fucking grateful that he doesn’t fight you on it, or force you to try for another. And maybe it’s just the mere sight of you. abdominal muscles twitching, forcing your upper body to do baby-curls with each flex of your pulsing cunt. Toes curled and an all-over buzzing sensation making it hard to even make sense of where your limbs are in relation to the rest of your body, much less König or the couch your hardly laying on.

“You okay, sweetheart?” His softened voice almost gives you emotional whiplash, especially when he bends over you forehead resting against yours softly.

Gently removing his fingers with murmured apologies when your little winces mar your pretty features. Both hands sliding up your sides to help lift you back onto the couch, moving to sit himself next to you just long enough to reposition your body on his lap. Pulling that blanket back over your bottom half and maneuvering your cold, tingling feet between his thighs like he can tell they’re freezing. He presses soft kisses all over your forehead and nose. Rocking you softly and squeezing at the muscles in the back of your neck reassuringly.

“You needed that… needed to feel good…” he murmurs almost lovingly.

You nod dumbly, laying your head against his shoulder. Letting out soft nearly unconscious whimpers and a soft repetition of his name in cum-drunk appreciation.

“Told you I could listen… could be good for you,” He adds, almost like he’s reassuring himself of the idea. “Wanted to be better than him. Needed to prove it.”

He holds up your weighty head, stabilizing it with care and a sickeningly sweet look of devotion in his eyes.

“You’re never going to fake it again, sweetheart.”

reblogs & comments are always appreciated <3

#könig #könig x reader #kortac #konig mw2 #konig cod #anon ask #anon answered #anon <3 #velvetures #velvetures writes #anon request #könig smut #cod #cod mwii #velvetures answers

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fallingdownhell · 7 months

Note

May I request Neuvillette, Diluc, Kaeya and Zhongli asking their s/o if they would choose them or the world and they (s/o) chose the world? At first they were upset until s/o hugs them and says they're their world.

THAT IS SO CUTE!!<3 Characters Included: Neuvillette; Kaeya; Diluc; Zhongli Content: gender neutral reader; established relationship; just some good old fluff; a bit angsty on Diluc's part but nothing too bad; not proofread yet Word count: 1,9k words Had a very stressful week and didn't get to writing at all. But now that it's over, I can finally work on requests again! Yay! Enjoy<3

Neuvillette

Neuvillette, when in a relationship, would be head over heels for his partner

it may not show in his face, because the Iudex was never good at expressing his emotions, but his actions are loud and clear

he adores you in every way possible and tries to spend as much time as he can with you, without neglecting his duties as Chief Justice of Fontaine

enjoys taking you on a leisure stroll through the city or just lay on the bed with you, cuddling all day/night long. Around you, he fells safe to let go of the strong hold he has over his dragon side. So, when in the privacy of your or his home, you can expect his tail to curl around some part of your body as soon as he gets close to you, but most of the time, it's either around your leg or your waist

one evening, while you were cuddling together, there was a thought that entered Neuvillette's mind

on his way home today, he saw a couple and he didn't mean to eavesdrop on them, but he overheard one of them asking the other, if they would choose the world or their partner

he thought it to be stupid at the time and didn't think anything of it, but having you in his arms now, he couldn't help but think what your answer to this would be

"Darling", he'd ask cautiously as to not scare you from suddenly speaking up. You hummed, signaling that he had your attention

"This might sound stupid, but... If you had to choose, would you save the world, or me?"

You don't answer for a while and Neuvillette almost thinks that you might have fallen asleep. He was about to lean down and check when you stirred and turned yourself around in his arms to face him

"Hmm.. I think I'd save the world.", you answered and then pressed yourself against his chest again, content with your answer

meanwhile, Neuvillette felt a bit disappointed. He was sure that you'd adore him as much as he did you. Was he.. wrong about it?

His mood drastically dampened as he continued to hold you, but then you spoke up again

"Wanna know why?", you ask him, and unable to refuse you anything, he agrees to hearing your reasoning

you rise from his arms, pushing yourself up so you can look at him. You smile at him, warm and full of love, as you tell him: "Because, you are my world."

for a moment, he's too stunned to speak. Then, he closes his eyes and lets out a chuckle, relieved to hear that and overwhelmingly happy right now

He catches you in his arms again and kisses you, holding you as close to him as humanly possible, not wanting to ever let you go again..

Kaeya

he's usually not one to fall for such tricks. No, rather, he's the one who gets people into doing them, watching the scenes unfold in the chaos afterwards

but for reasons, this one hits a bit too close to home for his taste

choosing between saving one or the other.. it's not a situation he'd want to wish upon anyone, knowing first hand just how bad it feels to be forced to decide eventually

he tries to forget about it, pushes it to the back of his mind, but it's like the heavens are mocking him, as he sees couple after couple who'd ask each other this damned question

and almost every time, he'd see them happily fall into each others arms when they get confirmation from their partner that they'd choose them

it filled the Cavalry Captain with some sort of longing... a feeling he couldn't quite describe, but he wanted this for himself, too

so, he decided, that on his next outing with you, he'd just go ahead and shoot his shot, asking you the same thing. What could possibly go wrong, right?

you'd invited Kaeya over tonight for dinner, to which he obviously enthausiastically agreed to

the two of you had some fun goofing around, playfully throwing things at each other before you actually did the cooking together

while the food was boiling on the stove and there was a quiet moment, Kaeya felt that now was the time to ask you

"Hey, (Name).. I got a question for you."

"Shoot.", you'd answer, still focused on cleaning up, but waiting for Kaeya to ask what he wanted to

"It's just.. If you'd had to choose.. would you choose me? Or the world?"

you scoff, a smile on your lips, and without hesitation you answer "Obviously, the world."

"Oh.", Kaeya answers, his mood sinking by the second. He can't really blame you for your answer, but he can't help but be a bit disappointed

however, the next second, he feels your arms snaking around him, pulling him into a hug. "Because you are my world, dummy."

Kaeya is stunned for a second, but he quickly feels that warm feeling rising in his chest again, that you always seem to trigger in him

he hugs you back, burrying his face into your hair as he holds you close to him, the food forgotten for this moment

"Thank you", he whispers, his arms ever so slightly tightening around you. He didn't realise how desperately he'd needed this confirmation from you until now...

Diluc

Diluc is a man who often thinks of himself as unworthy and undeserving of your love and affection

he's flawed, broken, a fragment of the person he once was. He can't find anything good within himself, so he can't fathom you seeing him in a different light entirely

you love him, regardless of his broken self. Even more so, you help him in trying to overcome this feeling. You heal his very soul, with you, he finally feels complete again

but despite that, he still has his moments of doubt, but you're always quick to shut such thoughts down again

Diluc truly adores you, with everything he has. No matter what you want or ask of him, he'll personally see to it that you get what you asked for

You want some new clothes? Already bought. You want to spend time with him? His schedule is cleared out minutes later. You want his love? You already have it

but the doubt still gnaws in his mind today, not letting him focus on the good aspects of your lives together

it was a quiet evening at Dawn Winery. The Staff had gone to bed already but you were sitting on a couch in front of a fireplace, the fire crackling peacefully, while you read a book

Diluc was walking down the stairs, looking for you when he spotted you there, looking as stunning as ever

His heart clenched in his chest when he saw you, and that irresistable desire to be close to you took ahold of him

he carefully approaches you and slowly snakes his arms around you from behind, hidding his face in the crock of your neck where he breathes in your scent, calming down his mind a bit, but the thoughts are still racing in him

you chuckle a bit and raise a hand to play with his hair, while you kept part of your attention on your book still

the both of you stayed like that for a few minutes, before you closed your book and adressed your lover

"Why don't you sit down with me? It must be uncomfortable like this."

but Diluc remains where he is, totally content right now. And yet, something still gnaws on his mind..

"Love.. if there were ever a situation in which you'd have to choose.. would you save the entire world? Or me?"

if he were to be asked the same question, his answer now would be different compared to if he would have been asked that before meeting you

before, he would not have hesitated and saved the world. Eradicating all evil to save everyone else sounded like the right thing to do.

but now? Diluc was certain that he could not live in a world without you in it. He'd sacrifice anything and everything for you, even the entire world

you chuckle lightly, still playing with his hair. "I'd choose the world. Without a second thought. Because you are my world. And I wouldn't want it to be any other way."

hearing you say that eased his mind, his hold around you growing stronger. It was a relief for him to hear you thinking about him the same way he does about you

with little to no effort, he picks you up from your spot on the couch and carries you all the way to the bedroom, where the two of you cuddle well into the night, unitl none of you can stay awake any longer. And even in your sleep, he holds you close, thinking that maybe, it's okay to love you, that you were meant to be together...

Zhongli

even as a god who's lived for thousands of years, there seems to be new things to learn still, with every single passing day

and since you entered his life, the things he learns have become all the more interesting to him

every little detail about you has been committed to his memory, never to be forgotten again. Zhongli never would have thought he could harbor such intense feelings for another being, much less a human, but he was proven wrong

only through you does he really learn to appreciate things that come with being human. He begins to take pleasure in the small things in life, his focus shifting from the greater good, and instead setting his sight on you, always aiming to make you feel as happy and appreciated as possible

after a bit of time, where he got to know you and trust you, he would also reveal the truth about himself to you

the moment you accepted him still, despite his true self, was the happiest Zhongli has felt in a long time. Now, whenenver it was just the two of you in private, he can let go of himself and allows himself to show some of his more draconic features around you

on one such day, the two of you were cuddled up on the couch, Zhongli laying on top of you, his arms around your body, his tail curling around one of your legs while you were stroking the horns protruding from his head

you were talking about mundane things, telling each other how your day has been going, but he really enjoyed listening to you

"Oh, I almost forgot! My coworker asked me something today that I found kind of ridiculous."

"Oh, really? What was that question, dearest?", Zhongli would inquire, interested but still resting comfortably on your chest

"Well, since she knows I'm in a relationship, she asked me if I would choose my lover over the entire world.", you laugh as you recall that conversation

suddenly, Zhongli's interest is peaked and he turns his head so he could look at you, a spark in his eyes

"And what did you answer?"

"Obviously, I picked the world. I mean, I don't think I could or really want to live without you at this point."

at that, Zhongli furrows his brows in confusion, your answer making no sense to him

he ponders about it a bit more, you laughing a bit at him, finding it cute that he didn't understand the implications of your words. So, you decide to just explain it to him

"It means that you are my world, Li. Nothing would feel right anymore if you weren't by my side."

the confusion now washed away, his gaze grew softer as he stared at you, love for you swelling in his chest, growing and growing until he couldn't take it anymore

with a low growl, he shot up and burried his face against your neck, his tail swaying back and forth behind him and you couldn't hold back the chuckle

"I love you, Darling.", he'd whisper against you. "with everything I am. My heart and soul will always belong to you."

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vixstarria · 8 months

Text

Mark me as yours

This takes place immediately after and is interlinked with 'Missionary with the lights off' but from Astarion's rather than Tav's POV - check it out if you haven't already, the fics complement each other.

Soft sassy Astarion, F!Tav, Gale, minor appearances by other origin characters, Astarion POV

Fluff, humour, banter, pining, non-explicit sexual references

A day in camp in the life of Astarion. Features brooding, sewing, doing laundry, being dramatic, engaging in improper use of archmage of Waterdeep, reading erotica, and more!

Approx. 2,000 words

AO3

You frowned at the stuffed bear you held in your hands, weighing up your desire to showcase your skills against the absurdity of the task at hand.

The whole thing was coming apart and needed to be washed and restuffed if you were to do this properly. What was inside, anyway? Fur..? You supposed you could go hunt something furry. Or maybe save yourself the time and just give Scratch a quick partial shave, he wouldn’t mind – the mutt lying at your feet was stupid enough to like you. To prefer you over anyone else, in fact.

You reached down to give him a fond, absentminded pet.

And then there was the matter of not letting it burn to a crisp the moment Karlach touched it.

“Is there a flame ward enchantment on this..? Can you reapply it?” you asked Gale, who was nearby at his usual spot by the fire, concocting something edible for the rest of your group.

“There is and I sure can,” he replied.

Great. You had gotten yourself into a group project with the wizard to rescue a teddy bear.

“Don’t tell me this is what Wyll was so concerned about earlier...” Tav had finally made it out of your tent and sat down next to you, looking somewhat less disheveled than how you’d left her.

“The bag of holding finally tore. Naturally I was the only one competent enough to fix it.”

You gestured with your thumb towards a towering pile of assorted crap that Wyll and Lae’zel were still sifting through: Lae’zel inspecting and setting aside any weapons and armour she deemed worth keeping, and Wyll sorting through an array of scrolls and potions no one was ever going to use, or would forget were in your possession if the need for them ever did arise.

“Darling, this is your fault, you know,” you added. “Must you pick up everything?”

“Karlach made me do it. Also I don’t know what you’re talking about, I am prudence and sensibility personified,” she said.

“You’re uh... You’re also bleeding,” Gale said, pointing at her neck.

A trail of blood had started running down from the puncture wounds, which must have reopened.

Shit.

Before you could reason yourself out of it, your instincts kicked in and you pressed your mouth against her neck, licking the blood off. By the gods, she actually leaned into you as you did that, not away. You glimpsed a guilty, sheepish smile she threw at Gale, as you pulled away.

“Idiot... Here, apply pressure, I’ll get the amulet,” you said.

“I’m the idiot?! You’re the one who ran off to resolve a sewing emergency, like a good little seamstress, before sorting me out!”

You strode over to your tent, in part to grab the amulet of Silvanus, in part to discreetly tuck away the erection that had immediately started developing as soon as you tasted her blood.

Hells, am I 239 or 15? you thought, annoyed with yourself.

“An amulet? I was wondering why you’d stopped visiting me in the mornings...” you heard from Shadowheart.

“We have a system,” Tav replied.

“Clearly,” laughed Shadowheart.

A scene from the night sprung up in your mind as you went about your day:

She’d fallen asleep on your shoulder, half lying on you, her nose buried in your neck.

It was... nice. Really nice. And you didn’t think this bizarre scenario would ever happen again.

And yet, pleasant as it was, she still felt too far. You needed to feel her closer. Perhaps you were being greedy, but after all these years, why should you get anything less than exactly what you wanted?

Carefully, very carefully lest she stir awake and leave, you rolled over onto your side, holding her against you.

She was still asleep. Good...

You cautiously slipped lower and lower until your head was at her chest, delicately wrapping your arms around her torso.

Then she stirred.

Shit.

Without waking, she sighed, drawing you into a tight embrace, clutching you against her chest, complete with throwing a leg over your hips to pull you even closer.

You finally relaxed, your arms wrapped around her waist.

Perfect...

She felt so warm... She smelled of comfort.

You could indulge in this for the night. You would wake up before she did anyway.

You drifted away, lulled by the beating of her heart.

You didn’t have any nightmares that night.

“Is your boyfriend coming?” you heard Karlach somewhere in the distance.

You cringed at the juvenile term. Still, you were curious how she would answer.

“He’s on laundry duty,” she responded. “Just us gals today.”

“So your idea of doing washing is to pawn everything off to me,” said Gale.

“Vampires and running water, remember,” you said. “Also you don’t look like you’re exerting an awfully large amount of effort yourself... Although I must admit, this is ingenious.” A little flattery wouldn’t hurt.

Gale sat at a riverbank at a deeper section of the river. Some sheets and clothing were being tossed and spun in a small bubbling whirlpool within the water, together with foaming slivers of soap.

“Surely few archmages possess such finesse and creativity?” you continued.

Gale sighed and motioned for you to throw your bundle in as well, expanding the whirlpool.

“Just toss your shirt in too, it's splattered with blood,” Gale added wearily.

Her scent lingered on it. The last thing you wanted was to wash it off.

You pulled the shirt over your head and hurled it into the whirlpool.

“Not Tav’s creative nailwork, I presume..?” Gale asked with a wince, looking at your back.

“Nope” was all you said, as you pulled a book out from your pocket, making yourself comfortable on the bank. To his credit, the wizard did not probe further.

‘Mark me as yours’

Those words had been echoing in your mind over and over all day.

It couldn’t have meant anything.

A little expression of some vampire fetishism finally poking through – you shouldn’t have expected any different from her, she did offer you her blood consistently, not even asking for anything in return.

Still, you’d felt like something inside you might burst from your desire and thrill when you heard those words.

And then everything that followed after...

You had actually lost yourself for a short while. Not dissociated and detached. Lost yourself. In bliss. In the scent of her skin, in the sounds of her need for you, in the sensation of her blood merging with yours and flowing through your veins.

And now she was walking around somewhere, with telltale bitemarks on her neck for all the world to see. Scandalous...

No, it couldn’t have meant anything.

‘Mark me as yours’

Still... What a pleasant little fantasy...

‘Yours’

“You’ve been smiling at that page for ten minutes straight now,” Gale’s voice snapped you out of your musings.

“It’s my favourite page,” you retorted.

“What’s it about?” he asked snidely after a short pause.

“I have no idea,” you confessed, begrudgingly, snapping the book shut. If the wizard knew what was best for him, he would abstain from any further comments.

“She’s quite fond of you,” Gale said sombrely after another pause.

“Is this about to turn into one of those ‘You break her heart – I'll break your face’ talks?” you scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Oh gods no,” Gale laughed. "No, I would go straight to incineration... You just strike me as the type that needs to have the obvious spelled out for them.”

“I am not entering this type of discourse with someone who’s presently washing my spend off my bed sheets,” you said, laying back and shutting your eyes, to bask in the sun. No answer followed.

Not even a minute had passed when a shadow fell over you.

Odd, you thought. There hadn’t been a single cloud in the sky.

You opened your eyes to see a giant water bubble hovering a few meters above you. Was that... a bedsheet floating in the middle..?

Worth it, you thought just as the undulating bubble spilt and crashed over you.

You coughed and spat, trying to untangle yourself from the sheet, as the unleashed torrent nearly swept you off the bank. And yet, above all else, you found yourself curious.

The water had no longer been running as part of the river, true, but given its sheer volume and the velocity at which it hit you, it should have hurt more than merely your pride.

You made it to the edge of the bank, and cautiously dipped a finger in.

Nothing...

You proceeded to submerge your hand, then your entire forearm, to your elbow.

Nothing.

Of all things... Why this? Why not your reflection? Why not the blood craving? Oh well. Beggars, choosers...

You were laughing.

“This tadpole,” you turned and shouted at Gale, unabashedly stripping yourself of your pants, as Gale turned away, muttering something about going blind, “is the best thing that’s happened to me in centuries!”

The best? Maybe second best? It had some tight competition, but you supposed nothing would have been possible without it, so it reigned supreme.

You leaped into the river, diving and letting the gentle current carry you downstream for a while.

You knew what you would be doing later that evening with her.

“What have you got there?”

She slid onto your lap like a cat that refused to take ‘no’ for an answer as it sought attention. You had been idling away your time by your tent, with some pulp you had picked up earlier. The rest of the group had been drinking and roasting something at the campfire.

“Trash. Disappointingly boring trash, this time,” you answered.

“No pulsating flesh tunnels in this one?”

“Alas... There were not one but two mentions of ‘velvet-wrapped steel’ however, and plenty of ‘sword-sheathing’.”

“To the hilt?”

“Is there any other way?”

“Wouldn’t want to sheathe it only partially, I suppose...” she mused. “Come join us. We found some half-decent wine. And you don’t have to be alone all the time, you know.”

“Spare me, I’ve had enough of Gale’s lectures and Wyll’s tales for the day. And besides, ugh, all those chewing noises!” You made a gagging sound.

None of them want me there.

“Oh don’t be such a delicate princess,” she rolled her eyes. “How’s this: it’s our joint meal time. It would be rude and completely unfair to exclude anyone. You should sit down with everyone, bite down on my wrist and make a great deal of slurping.”

“You can’t be serious.”

Delightful. Simply delightful.

“It will be funny!”

“I fear you might be the only one laughing, darling.”

That is hilarious, I can just imagine Gale squealing or getting sick.

“Is there anyone else you’d care to make laugh?” she asked with a slight upturn of her lips.

Not in the least.

“I could die again knowing I have accomplished something if I ever make Lae’zel laugh. But perish the thought – I am perfectly happy right here with my literature.”

“Well, if you don’t want to join the group, perhaps I will stay and you can...” She snatched the book from your hands and tossed it aside, leaning in and bringing her lips up to your ear. “...Release your kraken in my field of rose petals,” she purred in a sultry voice.

“Stop,” you choked back a snicker.

“Get tangled up in my beef curtains?” she continued with the same tone.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Sink your meat shaft in my cream tart!” she persevered.

“By the gods, woman, I am never having sex with your again.”

“Suckle the nectar from my weeping core!”

“Alright, fine, I’ll go, anything is better than this.” You got up, pushing her off your lap.

“Taste my forbidden, oozing fruit, Astarion!” she cried out from the ground behind you as you covered your ears and shouted “LALALALA”, making your way towards the campfire.

You would endure the prattle of your companions.

Then you would take her for a moonlit swim in the river.

Then you would see if she might spend the whole night in your arms again.

Perhaps she could sleep in your shirt and leave her scent on it again – it was foolish to sleep completely in the nude out in the wild after all, what if there were intruders?

Everything was going according to plan, you reminded yourself.

~~~~~

Next in series - Down by the river

Series master list

AO3

Tags: @littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny

Also @spacebarbarianweird - you haven't asked for a tag but sounded interested

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfic #astarion fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion romance #astarion x reader #astarion POV #gale dekarios #bloodweave more like beefwave #archmage of waterdeep as a washing machine #the narrator may be somewhat unreliable #reflections on author's own inventory management

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projectionistwrites · 1 year

Note

Literally would read any moon knight smut from you 🥵 can I request something with the boys having a marking/spit kink? I feel like it is most in Marc’s character but tbh I’m not particular heh

sorry this took so long hehe i hope you like it <3

ONCE BITTEN, TWICE SHY

Marc Spector x afab!reader (mentions of Steven Grant x reader) (2.2k)

Marc Spector didn’t fancy himself a jealous man—but you knew exactly how to push his buttons.

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+ mdni) WARNINGS: arguing, jealousy, SMUT (oral (f! and m! receiving), degradation, a bit of choking, facefucking, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, mean!dom!marc)

It was an accident, really—you hadn’t meant for it to slip out. And yet, there wasn’t a single part of you that felt bad about it.

Marc had already been in a bad mood when he’d woken up that morning, sulking and brooding and generally unpleasant to be around. When you’d asked him what was wrong, he’d brushed you off, insisting he was just tired and had a headache. You knew better than to believe him.

Truthfully, you had a suspicion that Marc had been feeling neglected. After he’d introduced you to Steven several weeks ago, the two of you had been inseparable—you and Marc had been dating for a year and half, so getting to know Steven was like the honeymoon phase all over again. He was sweet, and gentle, and shy, and many other things that Marc simply wasn’t. The contrast excited you, but you could tell that the puppy love between you and Steven had begun to take a toll on Marc.

When you’d gotten home from work today, you had planned on offering to cook a nice meal for you and Marc in an attempt to smooth things over and ease his worried mind, but he clearly was in no mood for reconciliation.

“Honey, I’m hooome.”

You sing-songed jokingly as you walked in the door, keys jingling in the lock. When you received no response, your joviality quickly dissipated and a deep frown etched itself into your face.

“Hello?”

You called again, brows furrowed in confusion. You took a few steps into the apartment, hanging your bag on the coatrack and slipping your shoes from your feet. Again, silence.

You went to turn the corner towards where the bedroom side of the studio apartment was, but quickly collided with a warm body as you rounded the bookshelf.

“Jesus fuck!”

You yelped as a hand came out to steady your shoulder, saving you from stumbling backwards on impact.

“You scared me....”

You hesitated, looking up at the man before you cautiously. The scrunch between his brows and hardness in his brown eyes quickly confirmed your suspicions.

“...Marc.”

Marc mistook your brief moment of pause as disappointment, and he sneered, releasing your arm with a small shove and sidestepping you.

“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry to disappoint.”

You blinked a few times in disbelief, frozen in place as his words took a moment to sink in. When they finally did, you were left reeling, whirling around to face his retreating figure with an incredulous expression.

“What?”

Marc huffed angrily, nostrils flaring as he threw himself onto the couch, a hand reaching up to run through his dark hair.

“I said, sorry to disappoint. I’m sure you’d much rather have Steven greeting you when you get home.”

“I never said that.”

You scoffed, approaching him slowly with your arms crossed over your chest. His brown eyes darted up to your face, his lips curled into a scowl.

“You didn’t have to. You’ve made it pretty clear.”

“Where is this coming from, Marc?”

It was a stupid question—both of you knew the answer already. Marc’s nostrils flared as he averted his gaze from you, sulking silently and staring off at some point in the distance.

A pang of guilt accompanied the sigh that fell from your lips as you noticed the slight quiver of his lip, and you made your way to the empty spot next to him.

“Hey.”

You started gently, letting your hand trace across the veins of his forearm before your slid your fingers between his own.

“I’m sorry, Marc. I know—I know things have been moving pretty fast between me and Steven, and I know I haven’t made as much time for you as I should have. I’m sorry.”

You leaned into him, head ducking slightly in an attempt to catch his gaze with your own. His eyes fluttered shut for a moment as he drew in a long, deep inhalation, before he finally opened them again and fixed them on you.

“No, it’s—it’s okay, baby. I’m glad you and Steven are getting along, that’s exactly what I hoped would happen. And I’m sorry I—I freaked out. Just—miss you, s’all.”

He confessed, a slight blush creeping up his neck and ruddying his cheeks. Marc wasn’t often open about his feelings, so the brief moment of vulnerability was significant. You smiled softly at him, reaching up to brush your fingers through his soft curls.

“Why didn’t you just say so, huh, handsome?”

A smirk quickly made its way across his lips at the insinuation in your tone, his arms swiftly wrapping around your body to haul you up onto his lap and into a searing kiss.

It wasn’t until you were seconds away from an orgasm, Marc’s face buried between your thighs, that you’d fucked up.

“Shit, shit—”

You cried, fisting at the sheets on either side of you as Marc’s tongue swirled over your clit, two of his thick fingers buried in your weeping cunt.

“Oh, God, yes, m’gonna cum, gonna—ahh, fuck, don’t stop, yes, Steven, fuu—”

Your hips lurched off the bed when the stimulation abruptly ceased, your eyes shooting open in alarm only to come face-to-face with Marc’s hardened expression, his lips still shining with your slick.

“Fuck, why’d you—?”

“What the fuck did you just say?”

He interrupted your whiny plea with his threatening words, growled lowly as his eyes narrowed at you. Your rapid heartrate only sped up when you thought back on your pleasured cries, quickly realizing your mistake. You bolted upright in an instant, your eyes wide and panicked, reaching to grip Marc’s bare shoulders.

“Oh, Marc, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean—”

He pulled away from you, rising to his knees on the bed so he loomed over you.

“Get on your knees.”

Your breath stuttered.

“What?”

You yelped when Marc lunged forward, his hand coming to twist in your hair to yank you harshly forward so you were face to face.

“I said,”

he growled, his breath hot on your face and fingers taut in your hair,

“get on your fucking knees.”

He released you with a rough shove and you scrambled off the bed onto your knees, quickly obeying his order. You watched as he slipped off his last remaining layer of clothing before he slowly made his way over to you, his figure towering over you with intimidation and malice. Excitement was beginning to swirl in the pit of your stomach—you’d never seen Marc so angry before, so domineering and unhinged. Still, a small pang of guilt shot through you at your earlier mistake.

“Marc, really, I’m so sorry—”

“Shut the fuck up.”

He snapped, and you immediately obliged, eyes blowing wide at the sternness in his tone. His chest was heaving with labored breaths and his nostrils were flared, eyes alight with fury.

“You just don’t know when to stop fucking talking.”

He was right in front of you, now, languidly stroking his hardened length inches away from your face, precum beading at the slit. He reached forward and roughly grabbed your jaw in his other hand, fingers curling to squeeze your cheeks.

“You wanna keep moaning his name? Guess I’ll have to make you shut up.”

His hand migrated up and wrapped in your hair before yanking your neck back. When your lips parted with a surprised gasp, he immediately plunged his thick length into your mouth, forcing himself down your throat without warning. The sudden and abrupt intrusion caused you to gag harshly, and he pulled out only long enough for you to draw in a gasping breath before he thrusted forward again, sinking his cock all the way back into your throat and beginning a steady rhythm of fucking your face.

“Only way you’ll be quiet is if you’ve got a mouth full of dick, huh?”

He grunted, hips snapping forward. There was drool foaming at the sides of your lips, tears streaming down your cheeks as you forced yourself to sit back and let him use you, the tip of his cock bruising the back of your throat and his balls slapping noisily against your chin.

“Bet you miss him now, don’t you? Steven doesn’t treat you like this—doesn’t know how much of a fucking slut you are.”

You felt yourself grow impossibly wetter at his words, reaching up to brace your hands on his muscular thighs in order to prevent them from reaching between your legs to touch yourself. You felt his arm reach down until his fingers curled around your neck, allowing him to feel each stroke of his cock down your throat.

“Fuck, baby—such a pretty little whore.”

Finally, finally, he pulled out of your mouth, a long string of saliva still connecting the tip of his ruddy cock to your swollen lips. You gasped harshly, letting the mixture of tears and drool drip from your chin as you gazed up and him with watery eyes.

“Thank you, Marc, thank you, I love you, I—”

Marc growled, his grip on your throat tightening and briefly cutting off your airflow.

“Shut. Up.”

He hissed, pulling you upwards with his hand on your neck and tossing you towards the bed. You fell backwards, immediately pliant beneath him as he reached to lift both of your ankles above your head before abruptly plunging his spit-soaked cock into your dripping folds.

A pornographic mewl escaped you at the feeling of him penetrating you, your hole still tight and unprepared for the thickness of his cock. The burn of the stretch was intoxicating, but you were quickly pulled away from the feeling when Marc’s fingers found your jaw again, squeezing your cheeks so your lips involuntarily parted.

“Open.”

He growled, and you obliged, allowing him to spit straight into your awaiting mouth. You whimpered, eyes squeezing shut as he kept railing into you, your mouth closing as his taste overwhelmed you.

“You don’t swallow until I tell you—you hear me?”

You nodded vigorously, eyes silently pleading as tears continued to stream down your face, the sound of slapping skin filling the room as Marc bared his teeth.

“Yeah, that outta wash his name outta your filthy fuckin’ mouth, huh?”

You could barely hear him over the static humming in your ears, an orgasm creeping up and washing over you without warning. You choked on your sob, desperately following Marc’s orders and keeping your mouth full of his saliva despite your desperation to cry out.

Marc felt you clench down on him, and his pace quickened.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby—you cum all over this cock.”

He leaned forward and sank his teeth into the flesh of your collarbone, licking and sucking bruises into your neck and up your throat. You lay helpless beneath him, body melting into the mattress as he continued to pound into you relentlessly, the sting of his lips hot against your sweat-sheened skin.

“Gonna keep you covered in these, baby—he’s never gonna forget who you fuckin’ belong to.”

He grunted in your ear, pulling the lobe between his teeth briefly before sitting back up, shifting up onto his knees and wrapping your legs around his waist before jackhammering into you once again.

He reached forward a final time to wrap his hand around your throat, now covered with red and purple bruises in the shape of his mouth.

“Swallow.”

He panted, his eyes wild and pace faltering.

"Swallow, and tell me who you belong to.”

You swallowed the fluid the had gathered across your tongue and finally let out a salacious moan, back arching off the bed as a second orgasm began building in your abdomen. You could hardly even remember what had started this thing in the first place, and you definitely didn’t care—your entire existence was overwhelmed with Marc, Marc, Marc.

"You, Marc—belong to you."

You cried, and you felt his fingers curl into your neck as he leaned over you, the heat of his body absolutely smothering you as his free hand reached between you to circle your clit. You keened.

“Again. Louder. Who do you belong to?”

“You, Marc—fuck, fuck, Marc, I belong to you, fuck—"

Your climax peaked fiercely, white hot and blinding as your toes curled and your entire body trembled beneath him. The rhythmic clenching of your tight cunt around him had Marc following close behind, his release punctuated by a sharp yelp before he buried himself to the hilt, allowing his seed to fill you completely, offering a few more deep thrusts before stilling.

Marc’s tension-laden body immediately collapsed on top of you, his head tucking into the crook of your neck as his cock stayed nestled inside of you. Your arms wrapped around his clammy torso, one hand stroking a soothing line down his spine and the other brushing through his hair, your lips planting a soft kiss to his forehead. His frantic exhales were hot against your neck.

“I mean it, Marc. I’m yours.”

You assured in a whisper, and Marc tilted his head up to look at you, his once cold eyes now softened with a familiar gentleness.

“I know, baby.”

He leaned up and pecked you on the lips.

“And now you’ll never forget it.”

You let out an airy giggle, sinking back into the comfortable and familiar weight of his body on yours. After a few moments, you bit your lip and gave him a mischievous smile.

“So...when do I get to meet Jake?”

#jake lockley #jake lockley imagine #jake lockley smut #jake lockley x reader #marc spector #marc spector imagine #marc spector smut #marc spector x reader #marvel imagine #marvel smut #steven grant x reader #steven grant smut #steven grant #moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight smut #projectionistwrites

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camilieroart · 5 months

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TMNT COLORCODED CHARACTER LINEUP COMPLETED !

After MONTHS of work, here is finally the lineup of all

61 CHARACTERS

That will be relevant at one point or another in Colorcoded season 1 :) More non-spoilery informations about them below !

Harry the Pickpocket gets beaten up pretty often. People like to hate what is ugly, and Harry wasn't the prettiest homeless guy around. Then again, most of the time he got beat up because he was caught stealing, but that's irrelevant. He had to do what he had to do to survive, and in New York, if you don't steal what you need, well people won't give it to you. More often than not, New Yorkers liked to step over him and a few sometimes walked on him, while still ignoring him. Harry was used to being hated, being beaten, being ugly and undeserving. What he was definitely NOT used to, was being saved by a group of reptilian people that, despite the fact that he stole from them, did not beat him up, talked to him nicely, and even built him a safe shelter. The Purple one even got him running water ! Now that he could drink and shower and look presentable, he might even be able to get a job, all thanks to these kids ! Harry didn't care that they were green and had a tough back. They were nice to him, and it was only fair Harry shared whatever scraps of infos he got to help them during missions. Especially when they brought some of these tasty pizzas…

Angel had always been called a bit naive, a bit stupid, a bit too good. She was always accommodating, always saying yes and her trust could easily be abused. But that wasn't true. Angel wasn't stupid. She knew what she was giving, and she knew that sometimes it was a bit too much. But she wanted to believe in the good of people, and in their good intentions, because it's always nice to be believed in ! So, what if she felt horribly ostracized by her only friends Casey and April, always out of the loop and pushed aside, ditched out of nowhere for them to run off with poor excuses ? They surely had a great reason ! Plus, she also kept secrets from them. You see, Angel had a part time job in the local Dimmart. She didn't really need it, it was just a good way to store away cash. And the fact that she didn't NEED it, made her able to freely walk out or shrug off if she gets fired. That definitely came in handy the night she caught a giant rat man and 4 turtles stealing from the store. So maybe she let them get away and purposefully covers for them everytime she can, but what else was she supposed to do ? She knows that people who steal, are usually people that don't have choice. Some nights, maybe the cameras have some strange malfunctions.

Steve Spiegel was a failed artist. At least that what his mom said. No matter how much work he put in his comics, nobody seemed to care. Maybe he just wasn't good at coming up with nice stories... But if there's one thing he's good at, it's listening to other people's stories, and giving advice. Now that's his thing ! Maybe he doesn't enjoy it as much as making his own stories, but at least, it pays the bills ! Plus there's that new client, Casey Jones, that had been telling him the craziest stories. Of course, Steve knew realistically, that this kid was either having a laugh at his expense, or in a serious situation that he struggled at expressing and tries to explain through silly stories instead. Either way, Steve listened like it was real, gave advice like it was true, and everytime the kid seemed happy and satisfied. And professional confidentiality be damned, these stories were too good to not be turned into a nice comic…

Vernon Fenwick was what you can call an asshole. After he failed to work in any of the TV channels the city had to offer, he made his own show called the Earth Protection News, courtesy of his roommate Ulysses S. Grant, that might have passed away soon after giving him the right to his show and all of it's audience. Vernon's show didn't work well at first. In this stupidly 'woke' world, having an openly racist, and misogynist and transphobic show seemed to have a certain impact on how it performed. It wasn't until the apparition of the monsters (that the arrogant and blind-sided left calls 'mutants' to hide their horrific nature) that Vernon truly started to shine. Each new footage or even pictures was dissected in his show and explained. People listened ! Finally the world knew he was right. These reptilians had grown tired of waiting, and decided to finally start to take over, but humans won't let them ! we'll fight back, starve them, torture them, kill them ! His show was bought by Channel 3, and millions hung to his every word ! And if Vernon hid some footage that proved these mutants weren't as dangerous as he thought, then who would know ? It was only a matter of time anyway. He could see it, when they mess up and the entire world is at stake because of them, oh he would be right. He would have won. And when it happens, Vernon would be there.

Akira is the Shredder’s right hand. When Shredder rose to power, he went against her, and was thrown into a prison pit to rot. But Shredder knew the man had talent and skill, and she didn’t want it to go to waste. She broke his mind, and took his eyes, and Akira is now completely obedient to his master.

Tanner G. Rollins is the failure of the family. His family moved to New York to make it, 2 generations ago, and were very successful. Tanner chose not to take over the family business and become a doctor. They were kicked out and banished because of it. He struggled really badly to become a dentist, and even then, clients were rare and barely enough to survive. Thanks to Splinter’s kindness, they decided to devote his life to helping mutants. He became a pro-mutant activist and takes care of mutant patients without ever compromising their safety. Also they’re a big rabbit fan. They’re just neat. He’s very blunt and honest, and heavily depressed.

Avril and xer twin Amaro Knox work in their grandma's (Anet Knox) Calm Corner Comics shop, and often scare of assholes that try to bother. They are both pro-mutants. Both are Tanako no Ichi fan. Avril is very chill and cool (xey/xer). Amaro is a party guy and always poppin'.

Anet Knox might be a small woman, but she is strong-willed and is a person to respect. She rules her comic shop with an iron fist, and is ready to beat the hell out of anyone disrespectful, despite her grandchildren being there to do so. She’s loudly pro-mutant, and is very happy to see Leo and Donnie whenever they come over for the new Tanako no Ichi manga or some Lynthia’s Legends.

André Murakami is a blind japanese chef, owner of the small but delicious restaurant "Fuyuuran". He was blind from one eye when he was born and fucked up his other eye by running around with a knife as a kid. He's very sweet and pro-mutant.

Renet Tilley is Casey's and April's history teacher, as well as their reference teacher. She is pretty awkward and shy around other adults and tend to relax around teens and younger. Her classes are always interesting and she strives to help her student as best as she can.

Shinigami and Yumiko live together. Shinigami was Karai's nanny and basically raised her. After Saki's death, she talked to Karai calling her sweetheart as she always have and got gutted and thrown out. Thankfully she was saved by one of the clan's cooks, Yumiko. They both ran away from the Foot and they assume they're dead. Since the Foot had always provided for them, they live in extreme poverty, and Yumiko works 5 jobs to try to save up to buy a proper wheelchair for Shinigami.

Baxter Stockman found, one day, a lot of canisters clogging his lab’s water tunnels, and after a few experiments, saw the potential in the mutagene. He sold it to scientists all around the world, and kept some to himself to experiment with. Ethicality and morality didn’t have it’s place in Stockman Entreprises, and it was in the way of progress. However, Baxter knew it was dangerous, and thus took it really badly when he noticed one day the Foot Clan spying on him, and decided to teach them a lesson. Baxter’s main drive is learning and discovering, advancing technology and driving humanity forward, no matter the cost. With global warming and world leaders playing with atomic bombs, time is limited, and Baxter will be the one to save the human race.

Don Vizioso is the nicest guy alive, he's known as the philantropist Vizioso. He would help you pay off your debt, take you under his wing if you're struggling, pay an ice cream to a little kid, shoot a guy that betrayed him 35 times in the head, pay for your college tuition, help fix the fucked up streets, or even give you access to his free hospital he set up in Manhattan ! His employees are helping out everywhere in the city, even if their influence is mainly in Manhattan. Recently, they have been bravely battling the group of thugs named the Purple Dragons, that keep aggressing people and destroying properties. Of course, Vizioso always helps with the reparations, sometimes coming down himself to fix up a wall or entertain the kids. For some reason, people keep coming after him with wild accusations, and these thugs often end up being recruited by the Purple Dragons. Plus, after the city announcement about the existence of monsters in New York, he's taken a stance on protecting New York, and has been bravely fighting back the creatures that keep trashing the city ! What a hero.

(This is the version that Vizioso believes about himself as well as the propaganda)

Don Vizioso is a mafia boss, despite being known by the mass as "the philantropist Vizioso". He would help you pay off your debt, but in return you're indebted in him. He'd take you under his wing, then shove you into a life of crime you can't escape. He would pay an ice cream to a little kid, because that way the shooter on the roof can't get to him. He would shoot a corpse until it's disfigured, and then go after his family. He would pay for your college tuition, and then ask you to kill the dean. He would fix the fucked up streets, and ask a tax from the people to pay for it. He made a free hospital, that actually records everything about you, and steals money every month without you noticing. His goons are looming over the entire city, but Manhattan is what is truly under his control, including the information. A group of resistant was created, called the Purple Dragons, but they are constantly discredited and Vizioso's crimes are pinned on them. Vizioso helps this idea that he's innocent by helping rebuild buildings he destroyed, but not the families he killed. When people realize they've been dupped, and lost everything after trusting Don Vizioso, they go after him, and then join the resistance. The mutants are a menace for his organization, and they won't destroy what took him so long to build. Plus, if he could capture them and sell them, he could make a good buck out of it.

The Purple Dragons are angry people, most of which have been wronged by Don Vizioso, that let their anger known. They are demonized by Don Vizioso and the city, and cast aside. Hun is their leader, driven mostly by anger and resentment. He always feels as if everything is being stolen from him and reacts impulsively and violently, which has often has negative effects in his life. He tries to aim that anger directly onto Vizioso and his energy into taking him down. During the raids to places that would weaken Vizioso, Hun goes wild and is often the reason for the bigger property damage. After hurting his loved ones when he was little however, he is always careful to not hurt people unless they ask/agree to it (like for a spar or he asks people if they want to fight. If they refuse he insists but doesn’t lunge for it anyway), or to defend himself or the people he wants to protect. Only when it’s directly and immediately. The few crimes they do commit in order to fight Vizioso is often the justification for the other, bigger crimes Vizioso commits and pins on them. Hun knows that getting mad at that and being violent back would only make their reputation worse, but he refuses to stay idle or passive in the face of the mafia boss. Hun, Koios Streight (the voice of reason), Nermin (tries to better the reputation of the Purple Dragons and deal with the damage. She's the n°1 reason Hun reigns himself in property damage). Also Koios and Nermin are dating. it's like irrelevant to anything ever. All the purple dragon things they wear is merch from Lynthia's legends (donnie's fav books) because it's about dragons and the color theme is purple.

Miss Chow, Malo and Arune are a little recomposed family. Miss Chow owns a food stall called "Chow's food and drink" in Manhattan. Arune and Miss Chow are married, and each handle a different job for the stall. Miss Chow is the main face and makes the food and such. Arune is usually working on paperwork and taking care of the finances and going to pick up Malo from school… Malo is from Miss Chow's previous marriage. She loves her moms but she's very very shy. She’s also partially deaf, but is able to hear pretty well with her hearing aid. Miss Chow is battling cancer, and thanks to Arune’s incredible talent in handling finances and worming through admnistrative, they’re able to stay afloat and have most of her treatment covered. Arune had a congenital malformation, and due to the fact she spent her entire life disabled and surviving America’s legal system, she really knows her way around their traps.

8-ball needs to feel like she has control over her life, and herself. After 18, her parents pushed her out for her to become independent, but 8-ball struggled and failed to get a job. Desperate and unable to seek refuge at her parents’, she was extremely grateful when a kind man took her in. What she thought was kindness turned out to be abuse, as he used her fragile mental state to control her. His constant pressure to be more beautiful and thinner, and her need to feel like she still belonged to herself led her to the dangerous path of controlling her food. It started small, not allowing any snaks after 2PM, then it became not eating more than once a day, then that one meal became smaller and smaller. It felt good, to be able to control that, to see the changes on her body that at last SHE was making happen. One day, as he hit her, one of her bone broke, due to malnutrition. He realized that his puppet would no longer work, and he left. 8-ball was right back where she started, in a much worse condition. Her control over her life kept slipping away, even with him gone, and it only amplified her need to control her food intake. Then, an evening she looked in the mirror after showering and it hit her like a truck. She was not okay and she needed help. But with no job and barely surviving, she couldn’t afford the help. She had no support group, nothing. So she made one, with other girls that like her were struggling and needed help but couldn’t get any professional one.

She is slowly relearning to eat without the swirl of guilt and horror to appear, but it’s very hard, and set backs happen often. But she’s going to survive it, she’s determined to make it. She wears wigs to hide her falling hair, and contacts because she likes it. Her favorites are the 8 balls ones.

The Turks were originally just a support group for disabled girls to talk about their problem, but it quickly turned into a way for them to expel their anger and sadness at being abandoned by society. It was founded and is being lead by 8-ball (favourite weapon baseball bat), along her two right arms, Aïda (spiky punchy things) who has down syndrome and is tired of being pushed aside, and Ruth (knife hidden in cane), an old black lady that seems fragile but will tear you apart, earning her the nickname “ruthless”. The gang often trashes the city and beat up people that make comments on their appearances. They tag a lot of walls about the city’s abandonment of disabled people and the lack of help and care for them if they do not fit hyper-specific criterias. As well as they are constantly judged due to their disability, leading to an impossibility to get jobs and sometimes even housing. They are led by 8-ball, that cannot fight due to her fragile physical state, but is the voice of their group. As the group gets known, they are being joined by other women, that while not disabled, are victims of societal or domestic abuse, and wishes for things to change. Of course all of this nuance and why the group was created is being pushed aside by medias and they are being labelled as a violent mob gang that only wishes to create anarchy. All their messages through tags are not relayed by the media, and some of them even present 8-ball and her right arms as big strong men (because how else could they have trashed the street ?). They are regularly being stopped by the turtles for hurting people, whenever it goes too far. However the mutants have never stopped them from writing their messages, as long as they didn’t hurt anyone. For a while, the girls abided to the rules, but they are getting tired of their messages disappearing in the wind. They need to do something big. To finally be listened to. Also this women only club does accept trans women, who goes through the same selection as everyone else.

it was originally a support group for women to reunite and talk about their problems and such. now, sure they trash the place but technically that's still the case. It's a support group for women about women discrimination, which includes all women, but it's a support group for women. Like that's just it. It turned into a gang which isn't great, but yeah. Plus it's not like a windmill. There's like questions they ask you before you join and stuff. It's a group that includes everyone that has experiences woman discrimination, and so includes trans women and Ft anything. Of course regardless of gender or build or whatever if you start being an ass you get kicked out

General Blanque is loyal to his country, and after that the world. He will defend it from any threats, and after New York City’s mayor gets attacked by monsters, and the mayor gets convinced to stay inactive, General Blanque decides to act in the shadows, helped by his assistant Lonae. It would take him a while, but he would get rid of these pests, before they fester and grow. He has a plan for a special squad of trained criminals, as he could not use soldiers without being noticed, and he’d grant them immunity if they succeed... Lonae is a model secretary and assistant. Always proper and straight, remembering all the meetings and accommodating her general whenever she can. Dutiful and loyal to a fault, especially to her clan’s leader, Shredder. She’s a wonderful spy, not once suspected by the General. Shredder stays aware of all the political movement happening in New York, without ever giving away her precious asset.

Libby and Harold Lilja own the store “Friendly neighbourhood store”, in the end of Brooklyn, towards Staten Island. Originally both graduate of a science PhD, their paths led them to each other, and in the end, to this little store that is their pride and joy. They met Splinter and the turtles when they were still little, as Splinter was trying to steal for food. The Lilja were the first ones to welcome the mutants with open arms and help them out. They are considered precious allies, despite not being in each others life all that often (not visiting each others houses or anything). Both of them are very outspoken pro-mutants, despite Harold being generally very quiet, and Libby avoiding political discussions.

Oxymary's maker, nicknamed "Ox" by fans. They're a bit fan of non-human creatures, going as far to inspire their main guiding character from a non-human, and then always dressing up as them when they go out. Which is ironic, when you know how anti-mutant they are.

Ox, making the game : "ommmmmg so like monster characters are soooo cool, so mysterious and interesting, and different ! i love how different from us monters are :D" Ox, as soon as they learn about mutants "oh ewwww what the hell is that kill it with fire"

The mayor is sooo important. He's so important you know. A big important man, that needs to be respected. And taken care of because he works soooo hard for this city. A good business man. A big boy. He can yell reaaal loud if you don't listen to him ! So brave ! So imposing ! He's doing soooo well, his mama sure thinks so. She supports him when he goes after the big bad monsters that harmed her baby boy ! Like a superhero.

James Bond is just a guy. He likes animals, and he’s a trans man who had Bond as his last name and just ran with it. He’s the only pro-mutant vetenarian in an anti-mutant clinic, so he keeps a low profile but he helps the turtles when he can. Nothing fancy or big, just a guy doing his part.

#colorcoded #colorcoded au #tmnt #tmnt colorcoded #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt au #tmnt iteration #camilieroart

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hughiecampbelle · 2 months

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The Boys Preference: Sacrificing Yourself

Requested: Could we have the characters reacting to reader on a mission and they do that thing like, "You go ahead, I'll catch up!" when actually they plan on sacrificing themselves to the job can get done? - anon

A/N: THIS IS SO ANGSTY I LOVE THIS REQUEST!!! My love, thank you for requesting!!! I feel like that elmo meme where he's surrounded by fire lol. I hope you like it my love!!!! Feedback is always appreciated!!! 💜💜💜

Butcher knew what you were doing. You urged him to run, to leave, and it hit him. He tried to talk to you, to stop you, but you pushed him, ordered him away. The look in your eyes told him everything. You knew exactly what you were doing. You weren't naive or stupid. You knew you weren't going to make it out of this. You're begging him now. Please, Butcher, go! He knows there's no stopping you. You've made up your mind. So, he does as ordered. And when they hear gunshots, one after the other, until there is an eerie silence, he walks away. Disappears. No one hears from him for weeks. He goes over that day incessantly. Was there really no talking you out of it? You seemed so sure, so tired. Did he take the cowards way out? No one blames him, but he definitely blames himself. He doesn't go to the funeral. He can't bear to look at any of your friends. They'll wanna know what happened. How could he explain it? How could he tell them he knew what you were doing and still let it happen? If it was him, he wouldn't have wanted anyone to talk him out of it.

Hughie can't breathe. You let go of his hand. He thought you were right behind him. Everyone did. But when he turned back, when he called your name, you were still inside. The building was burning, engulfed in flames. Everyone grabbed at him, telling him it would be stupid to go back in, that it was too late. Your supe abilities had started the fire, but if you wanted to stop them, if you wanted to put an end to this fight, then you had to (quite literally) blow the place up. Blow yourself up. Hughie gets away, but it's too late. It happens slowly. The sounds. The building collapses. Hughie bent over, panicking, gasping for air. There's still a chance, he says through ragged breathing, but The Boys share a knowing look. There isn't. Everyone inside was dead. You saved them, but at what cost? He beats himself up about it every day going forward. He still can't believe it. He should have grabbed your hand, he should have known.

Annie blames herself. She should have known. She should have realized. She should have stopped you. You weren't a Supe, you were just selfless. You knew you wouldn't have made it out. Annie could have. She could have if her powers were working. Its her fault. If she could have stopped them, then you wouldn't have done this, you wouldn't have sacrificed yourself. She should have been taking care of you, protecting you, not the other way around. Wasn't that her Jon? Wasn't that the only thing she ever wanted to do? Help people. Take care of them. Take care of you. If you're not safe with her, who is? When she realizes what you've done, it's too late. Hughie and Kimiko try to talk to her, reminding her that there's no way anyone could have known about your plan, but she doesn't want to hear it. She doesn't want to feel better. She wants you back.

M.M. is angry. He didn't know what you were planning. He didn't know the last time he saw you would be the last. You disappeared inside, turned off your ear piece, turned off your phone, and never turned back. He yelled and screamed and begged for you to answer him, but it was too late. By the time he went in alongside The Boys, when it was finally safe to do so, you were dead. So was everyone in the building. He was wary of you at first, being a Supe and all, but he warmed up to you. He cared about you. It wasn't supposed to end like this. It wasn't supposed to end at all. He was angry. At himself for not being able to stop you, for not realizing, but also at you. You'd been so used to relying on yourself. You had a team now. You had Marvin and friends and colleagues to rely on. You didn't have to sacrifice yourself. You didn't have to do this. There was another way. There always was.

Frenchie can't believe it. He knows you didn't come out. He knows everyone inside is dead. And yet, he can't wrap his head around the idea that you're gone. You sacrificed yourself like that. Like it meant nothing. There's a funeral and The Boys are all mourning in their own way, but he's stuck in denial. He waits for you to come bursting through the door, looking for Butcher to yell at or signing with Kimiko. He watches your desk collect dust, wondering why you haven't been around to clean it. They try to talk to him, about you, but gets so hung up on the fact that they're saying everything in past tense, he can't bear to listen. You were right behind him. You were running together, escaping, but when he got out you were nowhere to he found. He tried to go back in, but it was too dangerous. He cursed himself. He still does. There must have been something he could've done to stop you. There must've been something he missed in your last interaction together.

Kimiko doesn't understand. She can't wrap her head around it. She tried to stop you, to scream, but it was too late. You were trying to distract Homelander, letting your friends get away safely. It was a death sentence. And yet, you stepped up and challenged him. He hated you the most. He'd never back down from a fight with you. Frenchie grabbed her and pulled her away. She could have fought back. Why didn't she fight back? By the time everyone is out and far enough away, Homelander gets bored and uses his lasers to slice through you slowly, agonizingly. You spend the seconds you have left grateful. Kimiko and The Boys got away. They're safe now. That's what really mattered. Kimiko shuts down. She's angry and hurt and can't bear to be around anyone who tries to make her feel better. She isolates herself, spending time in your apartment, around your things, waiting for you to come home. You don't. You can't. You never will.

#preference #headcanon #billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #hughie campbell #hughie campbell x reader #annie january #annie january x reader #mm #mm x reader #marvin milk #marvin milk x reader #frenchie #frenchie x reader #kimiko miyashiro #kimiko miyashiro x reader #the boys #the boys x reader #requested

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yokohamapound · 9 months

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How about some angsty HCs?? 😏

How would Kunikida, Dazai, Fukuzawa, Chuuya and Fyodor (or anyone else you’d like too) react to their s/o taking a hit for them that would have otherwise been fatal if they didn’t?? S/o ends up being okay but the gentlemen are all angsty in the meantime >:)

Thanks so much lovely! 🥰💕

Hello, my lovely! It's been a while since I wrote some good old angst, so this scratched an itch. I hope these are what you are looking for!

Characters: Nakahara Chuuya, Dazai Osamu, Fyodor Dostoevsky, Fukuzawa Yukichi, Kunikida Doppo

Contents: death mentions, suicide mentions, controlling behaviour, anger issues

Nakahara Chuuya

Ooh, it’s kinda difficult for him to deal with? He’s in two minds about it, really.

On one hand, he’s strong enough that whatever blow was being dealt to him really wouldn’t have hurt him that much, or so he tells himself. All he can think about is that moment where the bullet/bomb/fireball, whatever it is, was coming toward you. Yes, you survived it, but he had to live through the nanoseconds of absolute hell when he thought he was just about to see another person he cares about die right before his eyes.

His temper erupts afterward. He’s furious, yelling at you that you “didn’t fuckin’ need to do that!” You’d be forgiven for thinking that it’s his pride you’ve hurt, but it’s anger born of worry. Those few moments he thought you were going to die were harrowing for him.

Imagine if he carelessly lost the person he loves the most, just because he was too slow or too stupid to see it coming? Shit, he could never live with himself if that happened.

However, there’s the other side of the coin. Which is that you cared about him enough to intercept a blow aimed at him. Chuuya can’t remember the last time someone did that for him. He’s used to being the tank, to soaking up all the violence so the geniuses can get on with their schemes. He doesn’t really know how to handle someone trying to protect him, like he’s something vulnerable.

He likes it and he doesn’t. He’s grateful and he’s pissed. Chuuya’s a complicated creature.

Once he’s done yelling and has calmed down a little, he’ll mutter something that sounds like a ‘thank you’, though he says it with his eyes mulishly averted and one arm wrapped tightly around your waist. He won’t be letting you out of his sight for a while, even while he’s being a grouch.

Dazai Osamu

While he might not show it on the surface, this has a rather profound effect on Dazai. Remember the last time someone he loved died in front of him?

While he pretends to be calm on the surface, inside he’s in turmoil. He should have seen it coming; you’re the self-sacrificing sort, always trying to save him in one or another. But before now, it hasn’t been literal.

I feel like time moves very slowly for someone as fast as Dazai. He was able to process far too much information in those few seconds you were in danger. All of his mistakes, laid out for him as plain as day.

He tends to convince himself that he can plan around every kind of incident but this is a start reminded that this isn’t always the case.

“Hey, bella?” His tone is unusually serious. His hand on your shoulder. “I’m going to need you not to do that again. Believe it or not, I don’t want to see you die in front of me.”

If you pay close attention, you’ll notice Dazai doesn’t make any more double suicide jokes after that. They don’t have the same appeal. Dazai doesn’t think he could stand to watch you die, even if you did want to join him.

He keeps a close watch on you after that, turning up unexpectedly throughout your day without any explanation, his lanky form popping up like a weed.

Fyodor Dostoevsky

While he will never, ever reveal it, this will shake Fyodor’s iron-clad ego a little bit. He likes to think he is in control of everything, and he can predict every single action of yours down to the blink. For whatever reason, he didn’t foresee you getting in his way and taking a hit meant for him.

You gain an element of unpredictability, which is both intriguing and alarming for him.

There is also the fact that you stepped in to take a hit for him. While he’s used to having underlings who look up to him like a god (Ivan), he doesn’t count you amongst the peons. He’s got you wrapped around his little finger, but in a way that promotes adoration and obedience, not self-sacrificing recklessness. He’ll have to step back and examine your relationship somewhat.

“My darling, what was the meaning of that?” he asks of you, his tone soft and a little dangerous. “I do not need you flinging yourself in the path of danger for me. I have everything in hand.”

He likes your devotion, but he doesn’t want you getting in the way of his plans. And he does care about you, love you in his own way—he doesn’t want to lose something he sees as his.

If you were injured at all, he will have the best private doctors on hand to treat you. Be prepared for his love and attention to be a little stifling for a while. He won’t want to let you out of his sight.

As for the person whose attack you foiled? Fyodor will turn the full weight of his enormous intellect to destroying them. They were dead the moment their attack came near something he cares about.

Fukuzawa Yukichi

Fukuzawa is very much the self-sacrificing sort. He’s said more than once that he doesn’t mind giving up his life in order to ensure peace in Yokohama, or to protect the lives of the younger members of the agency. He’s heavily bound by duty.

While he holds these values to himself, he doesn’t expect you to abide by the same code. In fact, he doesn’t want you to. You’re not a grizzled old samurai like him. (His words, not yours.)

He also heavily dislikes the idea that you were in danger because of him. Your relationship with him shouldn’t be a source of danger for you. As soon as he’s sure you’re safe and well, he will sit back and mull things over in his silent, intense way. He considers all options, from simply killing the person who tried to attack him, to ending your relationship with him to ensure your safety.

Thankfully, he comes to the conclusion that you are an adult who knows what is good for you. He’s never hidden the truth from you, and if you’re willing to face that to stand at his side, then Fukuzawa needs to respect that. He can’t make your decisions for you.

“However,” he says. “I must ask that you do not do that again. I can accept my own death, but not yours.”

“Don’t you trust me to watch your back?”

“Obviously, you can be trusted,” he says. “Today is evidence enough, but know that I could not live with myself if you were injured or killed looking out for me. If death is coming for me, I have earned it.”

He can’t really be talked out of this mindset, but that’s part of why you fell for him in the first place. Just make him a promise that you won’t put yourself at risk on his behalf.

Kunikida Doppo

Poor Kunikida.

One of his ideals is that he will never watch anyone die right in front of him if he can help it. The last time he had to watch an innocent person die, it almost shattered his psyche.

If you were to die in front of him, it would break him utterly. Even though you’re fine, the close shave rattles him down to his core. Instead of blowing his top and then settling down, the way you’re used to him doing, Kunikida becomes grim and quiet.

He refuses to step away from your bedside while you’re in the hospital for a check-up after the incident. His notebook of ideals is folded in his pocket, ignored. The fact he isn’t scribbling anything down is a little alarming. He’s not Kunikida if he’s not adding little notes to it every five minutes. He has his hands steepled together, his face grim behind his glasses.

“Are you going to yell at me?” you ask him.

Kunikida lifts his gaze to you, almost as if he’s surprised to hear you speak. He breaks out of his reverie a little bit, sitting up and pushing his glasses further up his nose. The light hits the lenses, hiding his expression from you a little. His voice is sombre.

“I must thank you for saving my life,” he tells you, almost formal.

“That’s not the only thing bothering you, is it?” You know him well enough by now. You reach out and take one of his hands.

Kunikida fingers tighten around yours, trembling slightly. It’s the only way that you can see how completely off centre he is.

“Kunikida?”

“Don’t…don’t make me worry like that again. Please.”

#yokohama pound #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd imagines #bsd headcanons #Nakahara Chuuya #Fyodor Dostoevsky #Dazai Osamu #Fukuzawa Yukichi #Kunikida Doppo #Chuuya x Reader #Dazai x Reader #Kunikida x Reader #Fukuzawa x Reader #Fyodor x Reader #angst

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