#anonymousrequest

[fabricated-misslieness]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Sett x male reader

ᴀɴᴏɴ: reader works at the pit as a nurse or something like that and he was never noticed by the boss or so he thought. When reader aids Sett for the first time he was so nervous while the boss just finds it cute secretly and when reader aids someone who seems to be a love interest Sett gets jealous and the whole pit notices and nervous about it?

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3,788

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: injury, description of injury, blood, descriptions of treating injury, swearing, threats, suggested murder attempts

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Being the nurse of a fighting pit wasn’t an easy feat, but you supposed it was easier than having the same job at a Noxian fighting ring. Sett’s pit ran on a schedule, with one or two stages used at a time; Noxus’s sometimes had full on wars or opponents coming in one after the other. The aftermath of those was much worse than treating a single champion running on adrenaline (as for the loser? It depends).

People came in bloodied and bruised either way, though, and it was not a fun job. Being a nurse, you only cared for superficial injuries, although you’d have to keep other more serious ones in check before the closest doctor arrived.

The pay was good, good enough to tolerate the gruesome injuries; and the fights were good too. So were the champions, even if they were egotistical, chances were they’d be too tired or delirious after the match, so all you had to do was offer some barely praising chatter.

Besides, folk like those who take care of them. You had respect and hierarchy in the pit’s ladder. Regardless, you weren’t much of a deal. You weren’t even high enough to receive your pay from the boss himself.

Speaking of…

The door to your humble office (with a view over the arena) bursts open. It startles you, rightfully so. The fight was still ongoing.

Then you catch his eyes.

Sett bends a little to fit through the door frame, a snarl on his lips. “We ought to get a bigger door for this place.”

Flanking him are two assistants, you assume. “Yes, sir.”

The boss towers over you, and while he wasn’t the biggest you’d ever seen or treated, he certainly had an imposing figure and an even more notorious reputation. What was he doing here? You were plenty sure he wasn’t even aware of you, having been hired by someone else.

Shit. Was this about Drozzok? The champion who’d gone missing? Champions, with high winning streaks, made good enough earnings as well as good enough revenge reasons. Chances for him being murdered were higher than him going missing.

You treated him last week, the day prior, and the previous week. It was no secret he was fond of you. You musta been a suspect. Oh, Gods.

“Boss! What’re you doing here?”

Sett settles down on the leather chair in front of your desk. Clearly, he does not fit in it all too well. The both of you are shuffling in your seats, for different reasons. He’s trying to find the most comfortable position in this cramptness; you are, evidently, nervous. He can tell with the fiddling of your fingers atop the desk.

“Murder attempt.” He says nonchalantly. You don’t doubt it, you hear of murder attempts on the boss every other week. 

“Right..” You clear your throat awkwardly.

He shrugs off his vest, revealing a bleeding bandage. It’s barely done the job. “I can’t manage pliers –the tiny things– and this one nearly vomited.” He points offhandedly behind himself with his good shoulder. “So help me, good nurse.”

“Need painkillers?” The boss merely shakes his head. He didn’t seem to be in much pain.

You gather your instruments, nearly tripping over your own feet on the way, or picking up the scalpel instead of the pliers; and noticing Sett’s chuckles along the way. Considering the ‘every other week’ murder attempts and his absense from your office, you don’t think he’s in all that much danger. ‘Side from the reputation of ownin’ the pit, he’s a good fighter himself. You reckon this assassin was a good one too.

“Musta been a hell of a guy to land something on ya.” You remark as you bring your chair next to his.

He shakes his head side to side in a ‘sorta’ motion, “Just caught me off guard, ‘s all.”

Right. The only thing to land a hit on him would be the element of surprise, of course. How could you doubt him? He was the man that paid your salary!

You begin your work on the wound quickly, albeit nervously. One fuck up and you’d lose your job, and perhaps something else along with it. With the area disinfected, you began your job. “I’m pulling it out. Be ready.”

You can see his muscles flex when the cool metal of your pliers meets his skin, though he nods anyway. “Mhm.”

The bullet’s in there, alright. Sett’s just about everything tenses when you dig and prod for it. The whole ordeal lasts about ten seconds, and you know he handled it well with his silent grimace, but you can’t help but to feel off put.

You offer a small mutter of praise, “Well done.”

“Mmh,” He groans then affirms, “mhm.”

Blood wiping, more cleaning, and a bandage later and he’s good to go. For the first time in the doctor’s visit, Sett offers you a smile. A fighting ring boss’s smile is often threatening, but you find that on Sett it is quite nice and warm, odd for a man like himself.

“Thank you.”

He laughs to himself when you tense up and respond, “No problem.”

He turns to leave, towering frame growing smaller in the distance, until you stop him. There was a growing doubt in your stomach. Why would he come to you? 

Surely he had the doctors to attend to him. 

He’d never met you in person. Was this a test?

Or, again you think, was this about Drozzok?

“Boss.”

“Yes?”

“Is this about Drozzok?”

He turns just enough for you to see him raise a brow, “No. Why would it be?”

You gulp back your fear, after all, now you were sure he wasn’t just going to turn around and accuse you of murder. “...it’s nothing, boss.”

The week after that, you find Sett with another injury; or rather, he finds you. His state of calm is the same as the last, so clearly, he’s used to this pain. As for the injury, it’s a long gash along his forearm. Gunshots hurt more than cuts, you think, but with the difference in size, this one’s going to be harder for him to bear through.

“Boss.”

“Nurse, no painkillers.”

He sits down. Without a word, you begin to take care of him. Cleaning salves leave a sting, and Sett grimaces. He swallows down a groan and you can see him do it.

“You need stitches,” You remark after finishing the cleaning. Sett exhales in a way that shows disappointment, to a degree. “and you’re gonna need painkillers.”

“Nuh-uh.” He disagrees. 

He gives you a stare. You stare back, knowing he’s strong enough to handle it, but also knowing that pain is non-negotiable. He’s determined, though; and with him being your boss and all, you’ve not got the courage to disagree with him.

Fuck. You grit your teeth, pull back your screaming conscience, and nod. “If that’s what you want…”

Sett doesn’t miss the emotion you have behind your words. He knows you think he’s an idiot. You know that too. But what is he, if not an idiot? 

Needle and thread, you stitch him up. First, he clamps his teeth down on his bottom lip to keep himself silent. When that fails, and sharp fangs tear bloody holes through supple skin, he grits his teeth. Silence he wants, and silent he stays. What is this, if not an idiot thing? A show of power, of course, and a foolish one at that.

He was a fool, and quickly, he was becoming a fool for you.

Sett watches your red-smeared fingers as you finish up, and he watches as you clean up your supplies. He watches as he rests against the leather chair as best he can, until he can’t anymore. The cheers within the arena grow louder, and with them, his anxiety grows. Today’s champion’ll be here soon. He can’t be seen like this.

“What’s your name, nurse?”

You turn to him only slightly, curiously, before turning back to your tools. “(y/n), boss.”

“(y/n), it’s Sett. Call me that.”

You repeat, for a second time, “If that’s what you want.” But he feels a second emotion through your words, this time; and the second time 'round, he doesn’t recognize the emotion.

“Good.”

Sett visits the week after the second time, and another time after that. Without a lull, his visits become a weekly occurrence, as do attempts on his life. Many of them are kept under the wraps, the same way the assassins’ bodies are after underestimating the boss himself; which explains the rumors being a twice a month occurrence. 

He often comes in for shallowish cuts, deep slashes into his arms other times, or bone-weakening punches. Both cuts and punches are things you’re sure he’s capable of taking care of himself, if not then his assistants. They require rest, mostly, energy or strength boosting remedies some other times. If his assistants are good, they’ll carry some around. Still, he comes in for these injuries.

Visits are not the only thing that raises. Your pay does, too, with no explanation so much as offered by your supervisor, the person who delivers your pay. 

And then Drozzok shows up.

“Doc, hey!” 

You’d seen him down at the fighting pit, and you were shocked then, but you were shocked now, still.

“Drozzok, hey! It’s good to see you again. Thought you mighta died.” You offer him a hand. He doesn’t just take it, instead, he uses it as leverage to pull you into him for a hug. If he wasn’t a good friend, you would’ve pushed him away. The man was sweating hard from the fight, and he was also rather bloody. Whose blood was whose, you didn’t quite know. 

“It takes a lot more to kill me than an assassin. Same guy from the pit the week before that I beat, except he had a knife with him. Dirty o’ him, for sure, and even messier was his death.” He sighs, “If I had the choice I woulda stayed with you, but I had to take the nearest doctor.” 

“That’s good for me, actually, Drozzok.” You speak as you watch him for injuries, “I’m no doctor…Anything serious like internal bleeding and you would’ve died in my hands.”

“Oh, you’re a doctor in my eyes! (y/n), you’re the only proactive healer here. Are ya kiddin’ me?” He exclaims with a grand gesture of his arms, which hurts him, you’re sure with his grimace, but he continues, “You’ve got twice as much vigor as other doctors!”

“Ah, well, I’m flattered.” You offer him a final smile as you finish scanning him for superficial injuries. “Please, sit down.”

Despite feeling restless, he obliges. His legs bounce up and down periodically, and you’re not sure if it’s the adrenaline from his fight or his ecstasy at seeing you again.

Drozzok likes to barrage his opponent with punches. It usually means that the fight is over quick because he stuns them far too much, far too quick. You could call it “No personal bubbles”. All he seems to need is a stamina drink and a little something to keep wider cuts closed.

He keeps bouncing in place, and you chuckle, “Settle down, Drozzok.”

He tries his best each time you touch his skin, then resumes when you stop to grab more equipment. It’s cute, really; if not, then only least bit disturbing to your work.

“Doc.”

“Hm?”

“So, I was wondering… now that I’m back and all, and I don’t feel the impending anxiety of perhaps not ever being able to see you again…” He trails off. You expect it to only be a pause, but it turns out quite the opposite.

“Yes?”

He clears his throat. You can see sweat drops on his forehead. “Like I said, I was wondering-”

The door opens, and Sett and his familiar assistants come into view. 

“Hello!” They’ve gotten quite friendly with you, especially the queasy one. They give you a thumbs up from behind Sett’s back, and you know why they can barely spare a glance at their boss. While they’re visibly unscathed, in comparison to their boss…

“Gods, Sett!”

He acts as he always does, calm, yet you can see he’s perturbed. His lips form a deep scowl. There’s a deep gash on the side of his body, and another along his pecs. His knuckles are red and bleeding.

He only grunts in response, but he seems to actually find words when his eyes land on Drozzok. His scowl somehow deepens even more. “Who’s this?”

“I’m Drozzok, boss.”

“The returned champion? Alright.” He stops and watches. You know what he means when he stares the champion down, though it seems like he does not. “Just because you’re a champion, Drozzok, doesn’t mean you can take my seat. You understand?”

The champion moves swiftly, muttering his apologies. You wonder if that’s what you behaved like when Sett began his visits, though not for long.

You begin your work just as quick, offering Sett the drink that was meant for Drozzok. He takes it with a quick and faint “thank you”. To walk all the way over here from wherever this was… you’re not sure how he hasn’t fainted yet. However, due to his muttering, you’re fairly sure he’s close to slipping from consciousness.

Drozzok watches. He watches as you clean the blood from his gashes, and the wound from his knuckles, and he feels different. He feels that you are different.

He watches and notes your tenderness.

“Drozzok.” You snap your fingers and it snaps him out of his rude stare. “Get gauze, needle and thread… and paink-”

“No.” Sett disagrees.

“Sett-”

He persists. He sits up to show his authority, and persists, still, through the hiss of pain. “I said, no.”

“And I, as the nurse, know what it is that you need.” Accidentally, you wrap the bandages around his knuckles tighter than needed. He winces, and you feel sorry for only a second, because this is getting your point across in a way he can’t ignore. “So, big guy, I say yes.” 

Sett rolls his eyes, shifts in place, grunts even; but protest as he might through gesture, you don’t hear anything verbal. You take it as a gesture to go on.

You would scold him like the manchild he is if you had the guts.

Once the little commotion is over, Drozzok arrives with all that you’ve asked of him, including the painkillers. Sett gives you a look as you hand them over, and you give him one too. He has no doubt in your authority in this, even as he protests so. He takes them with no further objection.

They only take a few minutes to take effect, and when they do, he visibly eases up and rests back against the chair. 

“That’s better, isn’t it?”

He rolls his eyes in response.

Drozzok purses his lips and continues to watch. You’ve got chemistry, he can tell. Was he too late? Taking advantage of the fact the procedure is going smoothly, he speaks with you, unbothered by the pit’s boss you treat.

“So, as I was saying… Do you want to go out with me anytime soon?”

Sett visibly raises a brow, and Drozzok ignores him. Whether on purpose or tunnel vision, you don’t quite know. 

You pause in your movements. You knew this day would come, and you’ve been thinking about it for the longest time. Despite this, you’d never been able to come up with what to say; and on the spot, you wouldn’t be able to either.

“Fuck.” Sett breathes out.

You stare down at your needle and thread looking for any mistake you’d made, only to realize you hadn’t made one. Sett saved you from the situation.

“Drozzok.” He says, eyebrows furrowed and fangs damn near breaking the skin of his lip, “I see you, and I think, what a strong young man. A champion, for sure. Now, I’m sure my hunch is right, is it not?”

The champion nods slowly, as if trying to decipher what the boss truly means. It’s quite clear, you think, but perhaps not to him. 

“That’s good! So, with that strength of yours, you should be able to handle these injuries.”

He nods again, even slower, and moves to leave. Then, as he finally reaches the doorway, he turns only slightly to say, “How about that offer, (y/n)?”

Sett interrupts, “Alone, Drozzok.”

With that ending statement, Drozzok takes the hint. He gulps visibly, “Yes, Sett.”

“That’s boss for you.”

Only when Drozzok leaves, shame and embarrassment spread throughout his body that even you can see, do you speak again. “What was that for, Sett?”

“What was what for?” He plays it cool, though he knows you see through him.

“Making ‘the champion’ leave.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

You laugh at that, and Sett raises a brow. “Well, if you have no idea, then I have nothing to thank you for. Except, I do thank you, for doing that. Even if it was ‘nothing’.” 

“Your stitching job was just messy, which I thought was odd. So I thought you were getting distracted. That’s all.” He ends with a smirk that you can just barely notice, but it’s there, and you’re sure of it.

“If you say so…”

Sett’s jealousy of Drozzok and your relationship continues to grow, and the pit’s workers take notice. While he knew you didn’t reciprocate Drozzok's feelings, he was quite jealous of the champion's ability to be so straightforward. Sett was a frank man, too, but when it came to you, the courage in his chest dissipated within a matter of seconds. Besides, you and the champion have known each other for longer, as well.

Sometimes he thought Drozzok had higher chances, sometimes he disagreed with that statement completely.

He’d come up with various reasons to keep Drozzok away from you. And, when he didn’t have any, he still had the authority to keep him away. 

For one, the champion was not scheduled for fights at all, so he had no reason to visit your office.

Nor was he allowed to visit you without a reason. The boss had made it so that only people in need could visit your office (apparently Sett himself could avoid this rule). Such ‘people in need’ weren’t an abundant bunch, so the office was slightly empty, not that it wasn’t before.

These new rules, that all seemed clearly related to you, confused many people in the pit. The boss’s crush on you was now well known around the pit, not that Sett seemed to show much care.

"So, what was it this time?"

"Hmf," Sett grumbles, "crazy gal wielding chains as a weapon, except she's got thorns protruding out of each link."

"Say, how big were these thorns?"

"Tiny, but sharp."

"Ah," Your theory lines up with reality, it seems. "thought so."

His wounds are cuts, several of them littered around his arms. A lot of them seem like tiny paper cuts. Your only concern is the bigger ones, the rest can only offer slight burns every time they rub up against something, so it's a good thing Sett doesn't wear a shirt.

"Oh, how so?" He chuckles at a wild idea in his mind, "I thought maybe it'd look like I got attacked by a wild swarm of enraged Bahrl Jays."

You laugh, "Aha, well, the mighty underground fighting pit boss, Sett, would not allow himself to be harmed by such feeble avians."

"Oh?" He inquires at the praise.

"What is it, boss? Am I wrong?"

"No, I think, perhaps you are right. But I'll have you know, Bahru Jay's are a fierce bunch." He laughs, "I wouldn't put it past them to do such a thing; well, except to me, of course."

"Right, yes, because the weaker fauna can still sense you are a powerful man!"

"Now yer thinking." 

"Hm." You hum to yourself, padding at the cut along his eyebrow with a cloth. "I'm afraid we need an intermission."

"You and fancy words… What? Are you afraid of–" Sett hisses, and his eyes instinctively shut, when the cleaning salve soaked towel meets a cut.

"That's why we needed it."

Yeah, he agrees now.

The door bursts open when you finish applying a healing salve, and in comes the fated man, Drozzok. You could only avoid him for so long, and Sett couldn't keep him away forever.

"Drozzok." You greet with as much cheer as you can muster, pretending to keep your focus entirely on the final cut on Sett's face.

"(y/n), hey." He greets, breathlessly. He doesn't expect the boss's presence, nor does he fail to notice it completely, but he ignores him instead. "So, that offer? It still stands."

"Not right now, Drozzok." The sting is much longer because you prolong the cleaning of the cut, waiting for the fighter to leave, but Sett tolerates it for your sake. "I'm busy."

"Yes, yes, of course." Drozzok gulps, his gaze finally landing on the boss's glaring eyes for more than a second. "I can see that, it's just that I've been waiting for an answer, and-"

"Drozzok?" Sett interrupts.

"..yes, boss?"

"He's busy. I'm on a tight schedule, and so is he. Even on a chair being treated to, one eye closed, I can see you're not in 'need' of medical assistance." He clears his throat, "And I'm afraid he is not responsible for emotional help. If you, dear champion, disregard my rules once more… just know I brought you to this pit, and I have the power to undo that decision."

The boss fixes the champion with an even more indignant glare and says, "Understand?"

"Yes, boss."

When he leaves, you speak up. "You'll admit to it now, won't you?"

Sett grumbles something negative under his breath, but he agrees. "Yeah."

"Thanks."

He doesn't find much assurance in the small phrase. "You don't like that guy, do you?"

You chuckle, not noticing his serious expression, "I wouldn't have thanked you if I did."

"(y/n), I'm serious."

You catch on, now. "Yes, yeah, I don't like him, not that way."

Sett audibly breathes a sigh of relief, somewhat forgetting that you're there to hear it. He'll be remembering soon, though.

"Not the way I do you."

"Oh." The boss brings a fist to his mouth, and clears his throat. Red frames the apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears, and it coats him in a warmth he thinks he'll never forget. "That… is a revelation for sure."

"The indignant boss, survivor of multiple attempts on his life a month, the man himself, flustered?" 

"Oh, shut it."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: perhaps got a little carried away. anyway, format for when i have no pictures?

[dreaming-girll]

[mrreggiemantle]

Fredsythe Moodboard requested by Anonymous

Request a Moodboard

[cutiesaeran]

Heads up for anyone who submits requests~

So I’ve been struggling through anything unclear as it came up, but I’m gonna make a note at this point: if you end up submitting a request to me, do me a favor and be as specific as possible. It’s nigh impossible for me to read between the lines and my anxiety makes it so that I get freaked out about making the wrong assumptions. I sincerely want to complete all of these, but I’m not going to let myself turn into a nervous wreck, either.

I’m sure some (most) of you will look at what I’m asking and think it’s a stupid little detail, but it’s just a part of who I am. Plus, there’s a chance that it will actually alter how I look at it and what I end up writing for you. Please bear with me.

That being said, if you submit something anonymously, just keep an eye out for if I make a post asking for clarification. I’ll tag such posts with both #anonymousrequest and #clarification, so they should be easy enough to find. I’ll be moving on to the next request while I wait for an answer, but as soon as I get an answer I’ll do yours.

[thissungoestoeleven]

I would like to make an aesthetic request, please. Leo sun, Taurus moon, introvert, Hufflepuff.

here you go!sorry it took so long, hope you enjoy :)

https://thissungoestoeleven.tumblr.com/post/161775963893/for-anonymousrequests-still-open

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: zhongli x archon male reader

req: yes | wc: 765

anon: Can you do a Zhongli x Archon!Male reader? The reader is very blunt and stoic, and one day the traveler found zhongli and the reader having a chat/tea at liyue harbor and decided to join them. Zhongli later revealed that the reader is the pyro archon considering the traveler quest to find the seven (Just some fluffs in general)

a/n: the pyro archon possesses a female vessel and goes by the name murata (as in she presents as female) but archons can possess different vessels (like the suggestion that Rex Lapis took the form of an older woman once)

Just how many people did Zhongli know?

As Aether made his way to Liyue’s Katheryne, hoping to find commissions, out of the corner of his eye he spotted Zhongli and a person he’d never seen before; not in Liyue, not anywhere else.

The man was stoic, exuding power. Red highlighted his hair, just like Zhongli’s brown to amber hair. The two of them talked like old friends, much much older than their appearance may tell.

“Aether!” Zhongli greeted him with a warm smile.

The mysterious man glanced his way too. His stare was intense, it felt like he was burning him alive, contrasting the former archon’s warm and polite demeanor. “Care to join us?” Zhongli offered.

“Y-Yeah, sure.” Aether took a seat next to them. Paimon, who was uncharacteristically quiet, floated next to them. Her look was undecipherable, so Aether could not deduct what she was thinking about.

“You know, Zhongli,” Your voice shocks the traveler. Even when you speak with a sense of familiarity, your voice displays strength. “when you asked me out for tea, I didn’t think you’d invite somebody else.”

The God of Geo chuckles, Aether doesn’t know how he can manage to brush off your intensity. “I didn’t plan to. You see, this is Aether. He plans to travel around the seven nations. Someday, he might come to yours.”

‘Come to yours?’ Perhaps you were simply from another nation, and it was yours because it was your home nation. However, his gut told him otherwise.

“Aether.” The fact that you don’t even greet him with a polite smile is intimidating. “I’m (y/n). I come from Natlan, I’m-” You cut yourself off, as if you’ve said too much. Aether finds it suspicious.

“Could you tell him about the nation?”

The side glance you give the consultant is almost a glare, yet he brushes it off like it’s nothing. You huff, and Aether swears that the cup in his hands heats up just that bit more. “Alright then, as long as I get something in return, right, Zhongli? That’s what you people of Liyue do, trade?”

“Of course.” Zhongli seems to be amused by your passive aggressiveness. “Name your price.”

“Time alone with you, proper time. Not with anybody else.” You shoot Aether a glance, which makes him flinch.

“We can arrange that.” Aether finally notices just how close you sit together. It’s certainly not enough to determine your relationship, especially when you seem so blunt and emotionless, but he has a gut feeling you’re more than just ‘old friends’.

You begin to talk about the Pyro Nation, from the land, the people, to its God. However, whenever you mention their name ‘Murata’, your hair seems to glow.

Aether brushes it off, but he can’t help but think there’s a connection between you and Natlan’s God. Just like your hair, Venti and Zhongli’s hair glow the color of their element whenever they call upon their powers. The strange thing with you is that he can’t seem to find what you’re doing when your hair glows. Though each time he takes a sip of his tea, it seems hotter than before.

“and finally, Murata is the God of War.” You clear your throat then finally take a sip of your tea. You don’t seem affected by the fact it's still steaming.

Silence follows. Zhongli doesn’t touch his tea, as it’d begun boiling out of nowhere, and neither does Aether.

“Well,” Your voice booms, accompanied by the loud clunk of porcelain hitting the table as you set your tea down. “I think I’ll have that alone time now.”

Zhongli chuckles, subtly holding your elbow. Aether barely catches the gesture.

“You see how demanding he is.” The both of you stand, and luckily, you brought mora. You place a small pouch on the table, looking extremely impatient to leave. “I hope these details are good for your journey, Aether. (y/n)’s an expert on Natlan. After all, he is the Pyro Archon.”

“Paimon knew it!” Aether’s flying companion finally breaks her silence.

You roll your eyes, hooking your arm with his. “Let’s go, Zhongli. You’ve interrupted our alone time long enough.”

“I think you know what that means.” Uncharacteristically of the Lord of Geo, he winks at the traveler and his companion. “We’ll meet again, travelers, hopefully.”

Even if you’ve just explained everything about Natlan to him, even everything about yourself as their archon, there were still many mysterious things about you. Hopefully the next time he meets you, you’re not rendezvousing with another archon. Hopefully, you’re acting on your duties.

"Seriously, you're so demanding." Zhongli sighs.

[mrreggiemantle]

Jack Skellington!Jughead x Sally!Reggie requested by anonymous

Request a spooky Moodboard

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: dazai osamu x sadistic male reader

req: yes | wc: 823 | TW: dazai’s usual thing, otherwise under the cut | part 1

anon: I was kinda hoping you could do a part 2 to the dazai x sadistic male reader? Like if he does end up in the agency or not?

a/n: i haven’t watched bsd in a year so there are many details i do not remember.

tw: mentions of nightshade and half joking about death

Normal life was indeed quite mundane. You’re not even sure what the appeal to it is anymore nor why you even yearned for one anyway.

Or well, perhaps you wanted a normal life with Dazai.

The entrance exam for the Armed Detective Agency had come to you quite abruptly, not to mention the fact that you weren’t at all informed of it and you didn’t have any time to prepare either. Actually now that you think about it, they were extremely underestimating your morals.

There was a kid they put you up against to fight –Tanizaki Naomi, you later learned; the little shit put up a great act– had her on these fake pills and all: immunity to pain, super strength, all the like. They sound silly, though considering all the possibilities that abilities could entail, you didn’t doubt it.

Now you were sadistic, that much was obvious, but you had morals. You weren’t just gonna beat up the living hell out of this teen. Granted, granted, she did get on your nerves. Punched you in the face after all!

However, she had a life ahead of her. You didn’t want to ruin that. Most people deserve a second chance, and these folk, the ADA, gave you that chance –though you did want to have a little “friendly” fight with all of them.

Anyway, you were able to subdue her without using your ability.

After that, you were welcome into the big family that called themselves a detective agency.

The problem was, though, that there was a warrant for your arrest. While it’d been lifted now that you worked with them, you were still not a friendly face to the public.

You were both a former Port Mafia member and Guild member, both associations that have or have tried to take control over Yokohama. As such, it might be a little controversial to send you out into the world with only a “trust me, I’ve changed” as proof of your innocence.

So that’s how you’re here, in a normal home, with a full time normal job, and a ‘normal’ boyfriend.

“What are you doing bent over the trash can?” He sounds amused, and frankly, he should be.

You stay quiet for a second, frozen at your spot. If you moved away from the trash can, even if you may do so subtly, he could look at it. On the other hand, staying in your place wouldn’t help either. “I disintegrated another cup.” You sigh.

While the president’s abilities certainly dampened your ability’s power to a certain extent, you were now available to control it further. You no longer needed all 5 fingers but rather any form of touch, along with the fact that you could actually touch people with a full hand now. It was… quite the change, really.

The thing was though that you didn’t need to think about disintegrating whenever you touched something, rather, you had to think about not disintegrating it. For example, if you hold a cup in your hand, you have to think about not disintegrating it.

It used to be tedious, but after all this time, it blended right into your subconscious.

Dazai’s importance to you –in relation to your ability, that is– had greatly decreased, actually. Not that it affected your feelings for him, of course not, but it was certainly nice to poke fun at him for it; in fact, his small habit of grabbing the back of your elbow had persisted.

However, as the active ADA member of the house, he wasn’t here often.

“I knew it.” He snickers. “How could you forget?”

“Oh shut up,” You roll your eyes, “It’s actually very easy to forget, not that you would know.” As far as you knew, his ability was the same as always. He didn’t have to think about activating it or vice versa.

Dazai prances right up to you, planting a kiss on your cheek.

“So, how was your day?” You say as you grab a new cup –you had many, just in case– from the cabinet and start cleaning the dust off.

“It was boring.” He says without so much as thinking.

“Mhm,” That’s his response every day. “You say everything’s boring.”

“That’s because everything is boring!” He collapses against your back and sighs dramatically, “Anything is boring without you, my belladonna!”

His little show caused you to disintegrate the cup a little, by accident of course. “Dazai!” You groan, setting the cup down on the sink with a loud clunk.

“What? What is it?” He stands up quickly, staring at the source of the clunk. “Oh.” He bursts out laughing quickly after that, holding onto your shoulder and the counter for support.

You don’t know what’s so funny.

His laugh was starting to get slightly irritating. You grab him by the collar, “Stop laughing you little sh-”

“Remember to stop your powers; or not, I don’t mind. Not the best way to go, but I hope it’s quick- gah!” Dazai groans when you drop him right on the ground, which by the way, he deserved.

“You’re disgusting.”

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: zhongli x male reader

req: yes | wc: 418 | cw: belly bulge, bondage, swearing

anon: zhongli with a belly bulge, and if zhongli were to disobey, the male reader would press on the bulge, making zhongli weak and regret his choice

“22, 23, 24…”

The challenge was to count from 1 to 100 before releasing. If he lost count, he had to start over. If he paused for far too long for your liking, he had to restart. If he said anything that wasn’t the next number, he had to restart.

Like the obedient god he was, he had not restarted yet. However, his counting was particularly slow, as was your thrusting.

Your pace was extremely slow, almost as if you were taunting him. Perhaps you wanted him to focus on the bulge of his belly -how big your cock was, so big that it showed externally- or the feeling of his walls around you. Whatever it was, the problem would not be the possibility of releasing before 100, but it would be his impatience.

Another problem was your unpredictability.

“25, 26, 27-!” He bites his lip, holding back a groan. When were you going to suddenly pull back fully to slam back in? He didn’t know.

“Shi-” He catches himself before he can say anything except 28.

“What was that?” Your smirk is devilish and cruel, but fuck did it turn him on.

“28.” The pleased smile you give him spurs him on. “29, 30, 31, 32!” A roll of your hips. You were really making this hard for him. If his hands weren’t bound to the bedpost, they would be gripping the bed sheets until he lost all his strength.

“33...” At this point, just a mere third into this counting, he was tired of it. Punishment would certainly not be as bad as what you’re doing to him right now, he was certain of it.

He pauses for a looong time, longer than the ‘rules’ you set.

“Darling?”

“Yes?”

“You’ve made a grave mistake.” His eyes are too busy gazing into yours, basking in their intensity and showering him in guilt. He doesn’t realize what you’re doing.

You press against the bulge on his stomach. The feeling is strange, new, and it makes him so weak. “Count again.”

“N-” The look on your face, the raised eyebrow challenging him to try it, it discourages him. Then you press again, harder and longer, in fact you don’t stop until Zhongli makes a move. “No.”

Your gaze hardens on him, and so does your finger. You make him feel weak, so weak that his legs are threatening to slip off your shoulders, so weak that the tight bindings around his wrists start burning harder than before.

“1.”

“Good.”

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: 4nemo x fan gn reader

req: yes | idol au (credit: @veechu_ twitter)

anon: could you write hcs for 4nemo where the readers super supportive nd is always cheering for them in the front seat with a bunch of lightsticks, merch, etc? idk how to describe it skdhjd i hope thats enough </3

a/n: ion write romantic relationships w/ venti so ig platonic. not writing kazuha cause we don’t know much ‘bout him personality-wise.

Aether

Always winks and sends you hearts onstage, though it may seem like he's only sending them to the crowd, they're directed to you.

Might even invite you up if he’s feeling it.

Probably signs some of your merch, that is if you ask. (and adds a heart that is usually not in his signature)

He likes the fact that you’re the only fan with his signature on all their merch, even if some people may claim it to be fake.

If people keep claiming that his signatures are faked, he’ll probably give you some sort of evidence, ex: a picture together. He won’t post it, and trust you don’t either, because it’s always fun to see somebody’s face when they’re in full blown shock, which won’t happen if the picture is on the internet.

Always brings you backstage after concerts, for fun and hanging out.

Aether isn’t big on pda, but he probably doesn’t care when he’s around 4nemo. So when you’re hanging around them, expect some pda.

They usually don’t mind, as they’re “free-spirited like the wind” Although it makes Venti feel sort of lonely, Kazuha doesn’t mind until he does something drastic, and Xiao is only slightly irritated if you kiss too much.

While merch is cute, he probably doesn’t like you wearing it around a lot outside of concerts (unless it matches your outfit). It's purely because you don't need to, as you have always shown your support already.

Speaking of, he appreciates the support and will pay you back with small acts of service every once in a while.

He doesn't like spoiling you, as it derives from his status as an idol, which he doesn't want to affect your relationship tremendously.

Venti

He winks, sends hearts, every cute gesture is directed towards the crowd, but mostly at you. Sometimes he points, and clearly directs it at you, but nobody except you can tell.

He likes signing your merch, but he doesn’t mind signing other fan’s merch, which means yours doesn’t stand out. It’s a good thing, as fan behavior can get crazy at times, so at least you can blend in.

Sometimes his speeches thanking the fans for support are subtly hinting towards you.

Your contact is probably “number 1 fan”

Expect him to call you every time he stumbles upon a hate post against 4nemo or against him. Even though it doesn’t affect him hard, he likes hearing your compliments.

Your friendship expands towards the rest of 4nemo, though Venti insists that he’s “the original friend, and your only best friend”.

He likes going out with you. It’s risky, he knows that. He can’t exactly hide his bright highlighted hair behind a pair of sunglasses and a mask, he knows that. Does he care? No.

Literally grabs you by the arm and runs when you’re spotted.

Will spoil you, undoubtedly. Calls it payback for all the support you’ve shown him over the years.

He likes when you wear merch, and he’s proud of it, especially when it matches with your outfit. He might even wear his own merch too.

Xiao

He’s a bit timid towards the whole thing.

He’s not exactly used to being shown praise, so it’s quite the shock when you’re always so supportive no matter what.

The sight of you in the crowd is always motivating, albeit a little embarrassing. The crowd’s eyes are on the whole group, but yours are only on him. He likes it though.

He only signs the traditional stuff like notebooks and some other merch if you nag him enough. Too many signatures makes him feel like he’s ‘branding you’.

Wearing merch makes him feel proud, though it really doesn't seem like it. That said, a full outfit of merch makes him overwhelmed.

No pda, whatsoever. He doesn't mind it around the rest of 4nemo, but don't go all out.

It makes him flustered to all hell.

They all tease him about it, Venti the most, Aether less so, and Kazuha the least. Though Kazuha's good at delivering small but effective blows.

He doesn't spoil you because he doesn't go out -as paparazzi are a bother- and he's not fond of material things.

All your support and praise makes him so happy and it motivates him a lot.

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: adult razor x dom male reader

req: yes | wc: 707 | cw: thicc razor, explicit nsfw, taking virginity, multiple rounds | minors dni

🐍💎anon: Thirsty ask here so I was thinking about a headcanon with all over thicc Razor (aged up as well) discovering for the first time the desire of the flesh (if you catch my drift 😏😏😋 and I see him as a sub for some reason) with his male s/o with the aftercare filled with kisses, head scritches and lupical love

a/n: razor’s above 18 in this, of course (even though no specific ages are stated in-game)

This feeling was… new, that’s for sure. He felt a burning sensation, one that he’s only ever felt around Bennett’s bad luck, but with you it felt different. It felt hot, so hot, and he should feel pain, except he feels good.

This was new, and usually new things frightened him, though this time was different. He wanted more of this, he wanted more of you.

He wishes he’d been exposed to this much, much earlier; the feeling of your cock sliding in and out of his cheeks and his hole, the shock and jiggle of his ass every time your pelvis met his with each thrust, and your harsh grip on his thighs.

The moans he lets out are weird, much like those of pain, though he does not feel any of it; he feels the exact opposite. It's not long before they become second nature, racking through his throat and surely weakening his voice.

He even finds satisfaction in your groans, your growls of pleasure. The sound may usually be one of aggression from his fellow lupical, except yours make him feel good. They tell him that you feel the same way he does, good.

Even when he meets his release, even when a strange yet satisfying white liquid spurts from his small dick, he wants more.

And with a glance at you, he can tell you’re spent. “Am I supposed to be tired?”

“Yes.” That doesn’t deter him.

He desired for you, he desired for your flesh. He wanted you to lean close to him, press yourself against his sticky skin and fuck him until he was truly exhausted.

In fact, he couldn’t understand why you got tired at all. How were you tired, when he was right in front of you? How were you tired, when you could get so much pleasure? How were you tired, when you could feel so good with a few movements of your hips?

He wanted to keep going, and who were you to refuse?

You were already tired but you were far from exhaustion. Perhaps Razor only had enough stamina for another round, perhaps two.

Your inquiry turned out to be right, even if it didn’t seem like it.

"Ah!" He doesn't give himself time to catch his breath after release, nor does the grip of his leg around your waist loosen. "M-More, please!"

"No, darling." He was a virgin, and he did not know his limits.

You could tell he wanted more, he pleaded for more even, but you had to stop him. Soon enough he'd be so exhausted that he wouldn't be able to walk. You didn't want that for your love.

You can't help but laugh at his pout, "What is it, love?"

He crosses his arms though lets you go anyway, "Fine…" He stands, which proves to be a problem.

"Oh!" You were there to catch him for a reason. Of course he didn't know there were side effects to his 'desire for flesh', and in his haze of lust, he did not even think of it.

He steadies himself with your arms. "What..?"

You laugh, "It's better you lay down."

As he does, lying onto the comforting mattress of your bed, exhaustion finally takes over. He sighs, somewhat dreamily, watching you through half-lidded eyes. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“For this.” He stretches against the sheets, arching his back in a familiar fashion. "Felt good."

"You don't need to thank me." You say. Leaning over him, you kiss all over his face, a gesture you've done many times but one he does not fail to be fond of.

"Mhm." He hums. Cupping your cheeks in his hands, he pulls you down for a kiss.

"Love you." He says once you part.

"Love you too." You finally collapse next to him, no longer needing to keep yourself up. You're sure that with your lover's large stamina, and his new and surely high sex drive, you'll be exhausted for weeks to come.

Razor snuggles into your side, hair enveloping your arm. You brush through his hair, which you've thankfully untangled since you met him. It used to be a tacky mess.

He leans into your touch, and with a final kiss against your skin, dozes off.

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: zhongli x dom cryo archon male reader

req: yes | wc: 340 | cw: temperature play, swearing | minors dni

anon: Like, the reader is a cryo holder, and they both are going at it. The reader is rough with zhongli. The readers body is cool and fresh, Yknow?

a/n: writing this one first cause its easiest. btw tsaritsa’s preferred vessel is female, i think.

Your skin was cold, extremely cold. No wonder you ruled over the never-ending snow of Snezhnaya. The land reflected its Archon, cool, rough, and intense. How could anyone in your harsh nation ever handle this kind of temperature?

Your skin was cool to the touch like ice, a characteristic he found interesting and appealing. However, never once had he pondered about how amazing it would feel during sex.

"Do you like that? How I bruise you?"

And fuck, your roughness was just adding to it.

"Yes, yes!"

He didn't even need a blindfold, his eyes were perpetually closed in bliss as you fucked him 'till next week. His sense of touch was heightened, and even when you stopped thrusting on purpose to pump his cock or rub circles around his nipples, he fucking loved it.

Many people blamed him for losing his gnosis, for signing that contract with the Cryo Archon, but he did not care. The gesture had earned him some brownie points, ones he used to get you to please him.

"Ah, fuck me!"

And archons, if he got to experience this every single day, he would do it a million times over.

You, on the other hand, well he helped you on your path to world peace by handing you his gnosis. Besides, Zhongli has always been eye-catching. While you were the God of Love rather than lust, who were you to deny such a charming God?

"Ah, archons, you're so cold!"

You were more than happy to decrease the temperature of your body, finally letting go of the warmth you had to keep up in order to prevent freezing a room full of vulnerable mortals.

Zhongli's warm ass was so refreshing around your cold dick, though the Lord of Geo was not used to such temperatures.

You were freezing, so freezing that your touch felt like it burned his skin. But he would be lying if he said he didn't like it.

You made him shiver in more ways than one, and fuck, he loved it.

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: fanboy xiao x idol male reader

2k event | wc: 946 | idol au

anon: Fanboy xiao with an idol male reader? where xiao is a long time fan and wins a private meet with the reader with the intention to confess, but he gets overly nervous and the reader confesses instead maybe 😩

a/n: a little different from your req, hope it’s fine.

“Xiao, do you like my singing?”

“Yes.”

And that was the truth, because he absolutely loved your voice. He loved it when you sang along to the radio, when you came up with your own songs, and when you proudly showed them off to him. No matter the broken melody or peculiar rhyme, he loved it.

“Are you lying?”

“No.”

He supposed it was the fact that he never gave any criticism –in his eyes, there was no need for criticism, as you were already perfect– that always made you skeptical.

But it was true, he loved your singing.

“You’ll always support me, right Xiao?”

“Of course.”

A childhood promise, a promise that would most likely be broken in the near future. As childhood best friends, neither of you thought he’d break his promise.

As time went on, and as you gradually grew apart, he never broke his promise; not when all you could spare him was an awkward smile in the hallways and not when all your singing became muffled through the classroom walls.

Childhood friends never lasted. It’s inevitable that they break apart one way or another, whether it be a solid reason or not.

Childhood friends never lasted, but he didn’t mind.

Xiao was of no use to you. He couldn’t hold a tune nor could he offer any advice he strongly believed in –he overthought everything to the point that he could never find suitable words– and he couldn’t even fit in with your new friend group.

Xiao was a loner, but he didn’t mind. As long as he could listen to your voice resounding against the walls of an auditorium, as you stood on stage with a bright smile, he would be happy.

That was what he wanted to believe. He wanted to be indifferent. Though when you rose to fame, a feat he knew you’d accomplish, he wished he was still your friend. He wished that he’d actually said something about his feelings for you.

He wished that he hadn’t acted indifferent.

Blaring, bold letters stare at him through his screen, screaming “Win a private meet with (y/n)!” Underneath them is the best news Xiao’s ever seen in his life, “You won!”

He’s always been your fan, from your local aspiring band days, to the fresh contract, to the present you, the experienced yet new idol. He listened to your music, from the scuffed dvds, to the official spotify accounts, to the professional solid vinyls and albums.

There was not a day where he did not want to talk to you again.

So when he won that private meet, it was a dream come true. This wasn’t just any private meet, it was unlike the many others he couldn’t attend.

Only one person, one out of your millions of fans, was to win.

He felt like the luckiest person alive.

Not to mention the tour, god, the tour! You were on a solo tour, as it celebrated your solo album. An album made all by yourself –not with your bandmates– as an effort to boost your publicity even further. As expected, it was a success.

This tour was about you and only you, celebrating your milestones. As such, one of the stops was your hometown, the town Xiao has never left.

This was Xiao’s opportunity to finally act upon his longing desires.

But… would you even recognize him?

“Oh, I totally forgot!” You move to swipe the hair out of your face and wipe the sweat off your skin. “I’m sorry you have to see me like this.” You apologize, sighing audibly.

“It’s okay.” Xiao mutters. He stands awkwardly until one of your attendants offers him a seat.

“Hello,” You smile brightly, finally looking at him again. “nice to meet- Xiao!” You’d actually remembered him. You laugh, and damn, he missed your genuine laugh. “It’s been so long, how’ve you been?”

Through the bundle of anxiety that courses through his heart, he can only offer a half-hearted “Good.”

You continue with the usual idle chit-chat, something you’ve gotten used to over the years. As empty as it is, and as melancholy as it makes you feel, you must persist. You want to believe there’s something to talk about, something from your childhood friend that could make this conversation so much more engaging, but there’s nothing. Xiao has nothing to offer.

“10 minutes.” One of your attendants calls out.

“You heard them.” You give him your signature smile. “Is there… anything eventful in your life recently?”

He wished he actually had something to say, “Nothing really. Listen, I’ve… always liked you. And, since you’re around, could we- uh, could we-?” He keeps cutting himself off, as the nerves are too much to handle each time.

“I’ll tell you what, since there’s been nothing eventful recently, I’ll give you something eventful.” You say excitedly, glad that he’s making an effort to reach out again. In truth, you’d missed him. You hated his silence and you hated how miserable he looked as he tried to fit in with your new friends, both reasons for you to let him go.

And most of all, you missed his genuine smiles. “Could we grab a drink together? Just the two of us?”

It’s wonderful to see them again. Xiao smiles softly, though he still seems nervous. He scratches the back of his neck, looking away from you. “Yes-! I mean, yeah.” Gathering his courage, he looks back up to your eyes and offers you a brighter smile. “Sounds good.”

“Heh, so you’ve always been my fan?”

He blushes a soft pink, but he nods anyway, “Yeah… I’ll always support you.” Xiao had never broken his promise.

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: corpse husband x yt male reader

2k event | wc: 1.88k | cw: swearing | fake dating

anon: I'd love a fake dating romance trope with corpse husband and m reader <3! Fake relationship, where reader has fans and friends always asking about him being single so he lies about dating his roommate. Thankfully corpse goes along with it. Time goes by and oh no! real feelings!

“Do you have a girlfriend?...no comment.”

“Do you have a boyfriend? No comment.”

Chat was having a field day on you. You were only trying to play your damn indie horror games and you had no idea why they started on the lovey-dovey questions. Like damn, you’re over here getting your ass scared and screaming and they’re just asking off-topic questions like it’s nothing.

“Do you have a significant other? Partner? Someone you love? A crush??” You sigh audibly, “No comment, guys. I don’t know why you’re so interested!”

“Are you taken? No com- AAH!” They were distracting you too much.

You clear your throat after taking care of that not so grateful monster. “What was I saying? Ah yes, no comment. Seriously, what’s with you guys? It’s not like my significant other would affect my reputation that much!” Although it would, seeing as they’re so interested. “..would it?”

“Are you single?” That was the last straw. “You know what? No, I’m taken, alright? Datin’ my roomie.”

You weren’t in fact dating your roommate. The worst part? The public knew you were Corpse Husband’s famed roommate. The second worst part? Corpse is in chat and your fans know that.

“@Corpse Husband is that true?”

“@Corpse Husband ??”

“@Corpse Husband are you dating?”

Could you not have a normal stream? Did it always have to be spammed? You loved your fans, but this, this was far too much.

“Corpse Husband: yes” Well fuck.

“I didn’t know we were dating.” Corpse states in an amused tone, watching you as you walk out your ‘streamer’ room and towards the kitchen.

“Yeah, yeah.” You sigh, “I mean I had to say something.”

“Is it that embarrassing to be single? Cause I swear I was single a few minutes ago and it didn’t exactly feel bad.” You throw an energy drink at him in frustration but he catches it almost perfectly.

“Thanks.”

“Pff, whatever.” You grab another drink and a snack before heading off to your room once again. You expect peace and solitude in there, except Corpse is at your door within seconds.

“Knock knock.” He exclaims enough that you can hear it through the door.

“You know you’re supposed to actually knock, right?”

“I forgot.” He says in a monotone voice as he opens the door which is funny in itself. “We’re dating now. I have every right to be in your room.” He flops next to you on your bed, showing no remorse when he steals some of your snacks.

It wasn’t like Corpse had never been chilling with you, on your bed, sharing snacks or anything like that. It’s just it meant something different now that you were ‘dating’. You didn’t know if he was being sarcastic about this or if he was being genuine, which was the biggest problem.

“You’re not letting this go, are you?”

“No. Besides, the people want proof. Wanna film a hand video?”

That is such an honor- though what was he going to do? “I thought you’d never ask.”

In no less than 10 minutes, the video had gone viral, because of course it did. Captioned: “I thought he wanted my snacks” was a video of presumably Corpse’s hand reaching out for your snack bag, to which you slap his hand away, only for him to reach out for your hand instead. The video ends with your hands intertwined.

Now, filming that was easy. But the feelings you felt? Damn bliss and butterflies.

You had to convince yourself that it was just a video; nothing more, nothing less. You weren’t actually dating, Corpse was just joking!

Though…how long would this last? Would you be lying to your fans?

“Hey.” Corpse shakes your still intertwined hands, which makes you notice that you hadn’t let go yet. You wiggle your fingers out of his grasp, though he takes them back. “I was going to ask you to let go but you have the audacity to let go before I asked, so I guess we’re stuck here now.”

“Pffft-”

Corpse grins at you cheekily, as if he meant to do that all along. Suddenly, he turns back to his phone. “Actually, that’s tweet worthy.”

“I was going to ask @(y/n) if he could…” He enunciates each word as he writes it. Soon enough, you get a notification from your own twitter.

“I was going to ask @(y/n) if he could let go of my hand so that I could steal his snack again but he let go of my hand before I could even say anything so I guess we’re here for the rest of the night.”

“Are we here for the rest of the night?”

He looks back up to you, shrugging half-heartedly, “I don’t see why not.”

He was in your room for the rest of the night, though he left by the time you decided you wanted to sleep. He hadn’t let go of your hand in that time, apart from the times where he grabbed snacks. It was genuinely nice and warm and you would be lying if you didn’t miss the feeling.

Thankfully, you don’t have to wait to see him again. For once, he wakes up before you, and by the time you get to the kitchen you smell breakfast.

“Mornin’” Corpse greets upon hearing your footsteps.

“Goodmorning.” You reply, and before you know it, you’re hugging him from behind as he washes some dishes, completely ignoring the breakfast he’s prepared for you on the counter.

“What’s this for?”

“Dunno…” You reply sleepily. “Just felt like it.”

“Can’t say I’m complaining.” Corpse chuckles, continuing his work. The rhythmically soothing –although loud– clack of plates, coupled with his warmth makes you want to dip under unconsciousness again. “You gonna sleep on me?”

“Debating it.” Or rather, you were struggling not to.

“Your food’s getting cold.” Not that it would stop your lazy ass from eating it.

“I’m not hungry.” That wasn’t true, and he can tell.

“Are you sure?” You have to give him credit for how much he knows you, which is a given because he’s your roommate, but still.

“..no.”

With the dishes done, Corpse waddles over to the breakfast bar as best he can with you latched onto your back like a Koala. “Sit down.”

“Dammit..” You grumble under your breath though you comply anyway.

He stays until you take your first bite of food, to make sure you’re getting fed; then stands rather awkwardly. “I got a stream later,” He takes a longer pause than usual. “do you want to join?”

“Sure.” And for some reason, you forget that it’s your first stream together ‘officially dating’.

“Agh, that was embarrassing!” You collapse face-first onto your bed.

“How so?” Corpse barges into your room unannounced, flopping next to you on the bed. “Nothing really happened.”

“Don’t act like you weren’t flirting.” You flip him off, turning onto your side to glare at him.

“Busted.” He makes himself comfortable, turning onto his side to face you. He’s unaffected by both your middle finger and glare. “Do you blame me though?”

“What do you think?” You roll your eyes.

Corpse laughs, “Shouldn’t have asked. You know what? I’ll make it up to you. I’ll make dinner.”

“I can’t trust you in the kitchen.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll make instant ramen.” He holds out his pinky finger for a promise, even though he’s not promising much. “Agreed?”

“Sure.” You take his pinky and shake it slightly.

And he’s off once again. All of this, the increased flirting and increased intimacy, was not good for your heart. All of this because of a pathetic little lie to get your fans off your back.

How long would it be ‘till it became the truth?

Gah, you shouldn’t think about that.

“Ow, ow, ow-” Corpse leans away from you and the eyeliner pencil.

“I’m sorry, did it hurt?” It wasn’t your fault that he asked you to do his eyeliner and wouldn’t take no for an answer. You’d never really done eyeliner before –well, maybe once when you stole your mother’s makeup bag, but that’s besides the point.

“No shit.” He winces, lightly patting at his eyelid.

“See? I told you I wouldn’t do well! Maybe you should-”

“Nuh-uh.” He leans back forward again. Why was he being so insistent on this? “Try again. Softer this time.”

“Okay.” With great concentration, and a promise to go softer, you try again. Aren’t brushes better than pencils? Did Corpse even own an eyeliner brush? The process is slow, much slower than the easy swoops you’ve seen him do, but it’s not your fault. “Aha!” You exclaim once you’re done.

“That was cute.” Corpse chuckles.

“Yeah, yeah, shut up.” You move onto his other eyelid. This time, it’s much easier than the last, as you know what you’re doing now. When you pull back slightly to admire your work, you just realize your proximity to each other. And god, you’re so fucking close it’s ridiculous how you didn’t notice it before.

You clear your throat, snapping yourself out of your trance. “Done..” You mutter.

He looks himself in the mirror, bursting out laughing when he finally sees his reflection. “Looks like, ha- the work of a five year old-! tha-that colored outside the lines!” He says in between sharp intakes of air and hyena laughs.

“In my defense, there were no lines.”

“Touche, I suppose.” He shakes his head, body shaking with silent laughter. He shakes like a dog, which somehow –effectively– gets rid of his unstoppable laughter.

“Thanks.” Suddenly, he kisses you on the cheek.

“Oh-” You blink repeatedly, trying to process the situation. Corpse merely smiles at you, bit of a dopey look on his face. “Yeah, it was..nothin’.”

“Monster?”

“Sure.” You take the can and pop it open, though your focus is completely on the laptop in front of you. You were having an old scary movie marathon with him on his bed, and since he’d seen this movie plenty of times, he took the opportunity to grab food refills.

“I still can’t believe you haven’t watched this movie before.” He snuggles next to you in the makeshift pillow fort, which you don’t seem to notice.

“Mm, me neither. It’s good.”

Corpse lets you watch the movie in silence, though there’s something digging into the back of your mind. You’ve never been afraid of being touchy with each other nor have you been afraid of flirting, and it’s only skyrocketed since you started ‘dating’. But did they have meaning? They certainly did for him.

“(y/n)?”

“Hm?” You glance at him curiously, mid-sip of your can.

“Are we dating?”

“Pff-” You almost spit out your drink though manage to swallow in time, although that means some of it might have gone down the wrong pipe. Through coughs and more sips to soothe your throat you ask, “What do you mean?”

“Are we dating or are we still fake-dating for your fans?”

“I… I dunno.” The movie still blares in the background except the predicament you’re in forces you to ignore it, unlike your previously absorbed state. “What do you want us to be?”

Corpse smiles cheekily at the flustered look you give him. “Will you be my boyfriend? Officially?”

“I- yeah!”

He laughs at your enthusiasm, leaning in; not towards your cheek, but for your lips. “Good."

[fabricated-misslieness]

pairing: tsukishima kei x bad boy reader

2k event | wc: 1.01k | bad boy trope

anon: Tsukki with bad boy character trope and m reader pls! Reader is an edgy bad boy who looks v out of place at all the practices and meets but wants to support his bf godammit. idk something fluffy or with a bit of spice? Promise of a kiss reward if Tsukki wins?? Bonus if Tsukki's teammates comment on their unlikely match :D

a/n: i struggled to find scenarios to write so i stopped before it became too forced

(y/n), resident bad boy of Karasuno High. You were famous –or should it be infamous?– among first years for picking fights and being ruthless with your victims. Your victims, however, were not the most pitiful bunch. People usually turned a blind eye on you, as whoever you picked a fight with was surely not the greatest person. Bullies were who you fought; bunch of cowards they are.

While you were doing ‘good deeds’, not many people actually took the time to befriend you. You knew you were intimidating, but you didn’t expect people to think you were that unapproachable. Was it bad that you liked wearing so called ‘edgy’ clothing? It didn’t look all that intimidating to you.

Finally, there was one last thing to your reputation. You and your boyfriend, Tsukishima Kei, were known for being an unlikely pair.

Tsukishima, resident snarky beanpole of Karasuno High. He was –definitely the right word now– infamous for his snarky comments. Anybody was his victim, from poor defenseless sweethearts to prideful jerks. Everybody pitied whoever was under the assault of Tsukishima’s snarky tongue.

While he was doing ‘bad deeds’, many people were actually curious about him. He was intimidating but somehow approachable. Take the volleyball club for example: you knew that they started off on the wrong foot, except in just over a few months, they already knew how to deal with his unhelpful comments.

Out of the two of you, Tsukki was actually the one who got the most confessions. Sure, you had plenty, though they were victims of the bullies you beat up. You weren’t interested in people with savior complexes.

You had to constantly remind people that you were a ‘bad boy’, not a ‘playboy’. You were absolutely enamoured with your boyfriend, which was something he teased you about often, though you didn’t see the bad side to loving him.

However, your reputation had only spread around the first years and some second years. As far as the second years were concerned, you were only a sore thumb in the crowd and somehow the person that all bullies and delinquents were afraid of. That is, until you met the volleyball club.

You were curious about the –seemingly– only other people that could handle Tsukki’s salty comments. Besides, you wanted to be supportive.

“Eh? Who’s that?” Ennoshita asks, subtly pointing at the guy running towards them. How far you were masked your speed, so it was quite the surprise when he realized you were straight up bolting. “Why’s he running?”

“Ah, that’s (y/n).” Tanaka seems nonchalant about it, as if everybody knows who he is.

“YOOO (Y/N)!” Nishinoya shrieks, waving his arms around like you didn’t already see him. “YOU’RE REALLY COOL!” He and Tanaka both know of your reputation and admire you a lot, as you beat up bullies like it’s nothing. Noya might even be willing to let you drop the ‘senpai’ honorific, which is certainly not something to scoff at.

Tanaka, Nishinoya, and Ennoshita –who are at the front of the group– are surprised when you run right past them. The rest of the team, aside from the first years, are curious as you run by.

“Tsukki!” The beanpole nearly falls as you tackle him in a hug. He groans in your embrace, especially because of the fact that you’re so keen on pda.

“(y/n).” He grumbles out his greeting. “We’re about to start a match.”

“Damn.” You pull back slightly to tap at your cheek as you think. “Hmm… I thought I was right on time.”

“Well, you’re not.” He rolls his eyes, pushing you away as if he didn’t crave your touch. He did not want to explain who you were to his teammates.

“I’ll give you a kiss if you win.”

“What?” He glares at you, partly because you were underestimating his volleyball skill and partly because you’d just exposed your relationship and cleared whatever doubts his team had. “I don’t need your affection.” It was true that he didn’t, but he certainly wouldn’t have denied it if you gave him any.

“Come ooon!” How were you not aware of the people around you? “You do!”

“Tch,” Tsukishima clicks his tongue, looking away from you and –unfortunately– at the curious looks of his teammates. “whatever. Go to the stands or something.”

“Tsukishima-kun.” He did not like the tone that Sugawara was giving him. “You’re quite the unlikely pair.” Suga laughs, poking at Tsukishima’s side.

The beanpole lightly slaps his hand away, leaning away from the vice-captain. “So what?”

Sugawara laughs again, stalking forward towards him. “Nishinoya told me your boyfriend likes to beat up bullies. That’s cool, right?”

He narrows his eyes at him, “Yeah..?”

“I thought he was a ‘bad boy’.” Tanaka pitches in out of nowhere.

“Where’d you come from?”

“Not a soft boy.” He continues, ignoring Tsukki. “Is this really the same guy who protects bully victims?”

“Of course he is!” Nishinoya pops up from behind Tsukki, though he swears that he wasn’t even behind him a few seconds ago. “The rumors say: sticks out like a sore thumb, dresses quote on quote ‘edgy’, and dates Tsukishima Kei!”

“That’s part of the rumor?” Tsukishima narrows his eyes at him.

“Yeah.” Noya grins. “Why wouldn’t it be? I mean, I was a bit skeptical about it. You didn’t exactly seem like the most likely of pairs.”

“Right?” Suga agrees.

“Stop terrorizing him.” Daichi sighs, pushing the troublesome pair –he doesn’t exactly have enough hands for a trio– away from Tsukishima. “We have to play the sport, you rascals.”

“Tsukki, you won! Which means-”

“No.” He stops you in your tracks, glaring off to the side, although it’s clear the look is meant to be directed towards you. “Anywhere but here.”

“Damn..” You rub the back of your neck. “Are you sure though-?”

“Extremely.”

“Fine, fine.” You shrug, taking his hand and intertwining your fingers together uninvited. “It means just the same no matter where we are, after all.”

Tsukki flicks you on the top of the head, “Stop being so sappy.”

“Ow.”

[fabricated-misslieness]

♡〜My I ask for a lovely Damien(monster prom) x Dom reader ?-anon〜♡

Damien LaVey x male reader

Ion like writing long things so here you go

Requested: Yes

Word Count: 388

Warnings: sub Damien, dom reader, anal, breeding kink, daddy kink

(cropped because ass but i put it at the end)

Damien considers love as one of the most ‘badass’ and powerful things in the world. That in it of itself is rather surprising, but the fact that he’s actually a switch is more shocking.

Not to mention his kinks

“Ah, fuck yes, daddy! Breed me~” He screams loud as you pound into his hole. Thank god- er, thank Lucien that Damien’s room is soundproof. Otherwise, well, the tortured souls of the 8th circle of hell would have something else to suffer from.

To think that he could be so fucked out that it’d awaken a breeding kink. Each time you move back to thrust in again, he pulls you in with his legs as if to guarantee his impregnation.

After all, love was powerful enough to make children, right?

"Fill me with your seed!" His mouth is perpetually open, spouting curses, moans, groans and commands to fuck him.

There was no stronger show of love than having a tiny you.

Unfortunately you weren't a demon - you don’t know how you’re in hell alive, so you really couldn't make children. Still, Damien can't help it. As you fuck him into next week, all he can think about is being bred.

"Agh, yes! There, right there!" His arms reach out to claw at your back. Even if he's all too weak for you right now, the marks he leaves behind sting.

"Get your nails off daddy's back, will you?"

He lets out a sound - a meek whimper in response, as if to tell you he's sorry.

"Wait- wait!" Naturally, you obey, a little concerned.

He pins his own knees on either side of his head, showing off his flexibility that you had barely a clue about. "Better position to fill me in, right?"

You let out a chuckle, "You want it rough, don't you?"

His tail, as thin as flimsy as it looks, pulls you down. You hiss, but before you can say anything, he whispers into your ear, "When have I ever wanted it any other way?"

"You're just asking to be punished." Hands on his hips and leaving bruises, you start fucking him again.

He moans at the sudden surge of movement, ignoring your comment about punishment. If punishment entails getting fucked out, it's not punishment for him. "Hell yeah, breed me deeper!"

"God fuuuuck-" How ironic.

ass