#apologies for slightly poor quality

[omletteer]

lunch, probably

[sparring-spirals]

listen everyone, its okay, campaign can't end till imogen turns all the colors of the rainbow

[k2ssland]

connie springer found himself crushing on one of his pretty little college girl clients . . . it started when you discovered him through a mutual on campus who deemed he produced the best quality weed in the area and in addition, he was undeniably sexy. curiosity swarmed your mind to see if the weed he was really all that.

even though you rarely indulged in smoking—the only times being for anxiety relief, you got his number and worked up the courage to text. agreeing on a time for his delivery, you sat on your porch, heart pounding through your chest while anticipating his arrival. and he pulled up a little after twelve-thirty am blasting xavier wulf, disturbing all your poor sleeping neighbors. nervously approaching his coupe as he rolled his five percent tinted window down simultaneously lowering the music to a normal level.

"yo, what you doin' buyin' from me, lil' college girl?" was the first thing the brunette-headed beauty said to you. connie's hazel eyes shamelessly trace your plush brown skin body from your fresh goddess braids to the white painted toes in your christian dior sandals.

immediately, his masculine musk mixed with marijuana swarmed your nose and overstimulated your senses making you dizzy. connie leaned back comfortably in his seat and no seat belt in sight, he now tucked his hands into his grey nike sweats, revealing the inseam of his red psds and a glimpse of his perfectly sculpted abdomen. tattoo sleeves ran up both of his muscular arms all the way to his chest.

"the others at yo school usually want rocks, but it's only green ova here." he spoke in a deep tone with a slightly foreign accent, licking his plump cotton candy lips after speaking and slightly showing the blinged-out grills secured to his teeth.

"boy, what the hell? i'm not here for cocaine, that's not what my people do." distraught and snapped out of your daydream by his reply, you painted an almost disgusted look on your face and his laughter erupted throughout the car.

between his laughter, he subtly apologized and continued on with the deal. you apprehensively played it off as you had a big test the following day and simply needed something to calm your nerves, knowing damn well you just wanted to see the infamous sexy dealer in your college town up close.

"oh, word? that's wassup mami. te deseo buena suerte."

he slid an extra ounce in your bag and shrugged it off as a miscount, but the real reason simply being that he was enticed by your beauty. a few days later, before you even finished what you already had, you called him up for another eighth just so you could see his gorgeous face again.

after delivering to you numerous times, he finally asked you out on his version of a date, which was matching in front of a breathtaking view, talking about aliens n conspiracy theories, and after, treating you to whatever munchies craving you possessed.

eventually, connie cautiously opened you up to his world, sometimes allowing you to accompany him on his late-night deliveries whenever you had insomnia. it was definitely different from what you'd known, you wondered to yourself how you, the girl who completely devoted herself to her school, producing top-of-the-line grades, came from a supportive and loving family, ended up skipping class to ride passenger princess in a sexy drug dealer's bmw who knew nothing but the streets.

you knew it was bad and so did he, you two had no business being together, but it was just something about you—something about him.

from you being so oblivious to his street slang and always following up with, "um connie . . . what does that mean?" and vice versa, the way you articulated words only captivated him more, asking you to educate him on their meanings and slowly applying them to his lingo. he admired how you spoke properly regardless of your black friends accusing you of being white-washed because of your pwi.

eventually, he taught you how to weigh his loads, putting your own touch on them by packaging them into pink plastic baggies with their name, amount, and a heart around it.

"mami, they gon' think i went all soft and shit now," is what he told you every time regardless of him finding it adorable.

he thought your innocence and intelligence were alluring and for your sake, he knew he should've kept it strictly professional business, but he wanted to ruin you.

his aspiration only grew larger after one night, participating in a mini competition amongst yourselves to see who would tap out first while smoking as many blunts as possible.

your deep brown eyes were low n red after two, ready to quit due to the feeling of immense drowsiness. feeling as if you were on another planet, you brazenly confessed a few secrets of yours before falling asleep in his arms—one being that you had never had sex before. the thought of connie popping your sweet cherry made him brick up instantly. he would’ve took you right then and there in the backseat of his car, but he wanted you to be completely conscious for it.

teaching you his ways was only the beginning, not only did he want to corrupt your mind, he desired to take over your entire body like a vicious plague.

you sheepishly admitted that being in his scene terrified you but he assured you, "i promise nothin' will happen to you as long as you wit me, mamacita."

he later conceded to you that he was always strapped with his glock-19 and in a way, that made him even sexier. he pulled the weapon out of his baggy sweats and laid it on his lap for you to comprehend. you blurted out asking if he had ever used it on someone.

"ignorance is bliss, ain’t that right, bae?” giving you a small smile alongside a chuckle, continuing on with his delivery route as if nothing happened.

he dropped you home later that night and it was spent under your baby pink silk sheets, one hand tightly resting on your breast, the other rubbing over your aching clit. soft mewls of his name escaped your lips while fantasizing about him holding his loaded gun to your head, finger just shy of the trigger as he fucked you dumb. you messily came undone all over yourself and from that day on, your worries about safety never resumed.

the next thing you knew, connie's plan had you exactly where he wanted you to be. his big body hovering over your adorably small one in comparison and looking down upon you hungrily with low bloodshot eyes, making you indecisive of if the sight was sexy or terrifying, or both.

legs spread onto the dip of his buff shoulders, gold anklet dangling in his face and his precum-soaked tip aimed at your entrance. it was everything you had fantasized about; thick, circumcised, and pretty. veins protruding from the base to his baby pink tip, the same color as your thong he pulled aside.

"wait! wait—connie, before you continue, i need to tell you something.” the fear was evident in your eyes, shakily placing your small chubby hand on his toned lower stomach to avoid him proceeding further.

"oh, that you're a virgin?"

"wait, wait what?" eyes widening, your brows lowering with confusion.

"you do lots of talkin' when you're high, but even without you tellin' it was obvious." his copper eyes briefly shifted towards the chastity ring that never left your finger.

"fuck you, connie."

"oh yea? fuck me, baby? nah, fuck you."

audibly gasping at the sudden aggressive shift into your slit and taking in all of his inches. a smug grin painting his face once he watches the pretty virgin trying to adjust to his length, the stretch embarrassingly being nearly unbearable for you.

"t'hurts," your brown irises rolling to the depths of your skull and he needily bucked his hips against you, balls deep inside of your pussy, slapping against the fat of your ass with no remorse.

“c–connie it’s t’much . . . i can’t.” while gripping onto the sheets as if your life depended on it, light tears swell your sweet doe eyes and your eyelashes meeting with your flushed cheeks from tightly clenching your eyes shut. your pussy crying for him as well, coating his cock with sticky cream ring.

"awn you can't take it, baby? i thought it was fuck me though, right?" he purred in a condescending tone, his russet eyes narrowing before increasing his pace, watching the way your pussy swallowed his dick whole.

"m'sorry . . . connie, m'so so sorry, please."

"m'so sorry," connie embarrassingly mocks your tone creating nearly the same pitch as your shaky voice. his veiny hand wrapped around your neck restricting your breath to a minimum and making you dizzy while soft mewls slithered out of your lips, pain mixing with a foreign feeling of pleasure.

"actin' so innocent all the damn time n yet here you are, pretty pussy creamin' all over my dick." his words spilling from his lips like an addictive poison to your brain.

"ease up f'me princesa, with you clenchin' like that m'not gonna last long." connie's voice coos in your ear as he positions your legs all the way over his shoulders to allow him to plant harsh kisses on your bruised cervix to where you couldn't think straight. gripping your plush thick body in the sweaty palms of his hand and squirming underneath his weight. the room filled with lewd sloppy squelching noises from your pussy suctioned onto the length of his shaft.

your short french tip nails dug into his sweat-glistened skin leaving crescent moons behind and you weren't even fighting back anymore, you embraced it. nuzzling into his chest and wrapping your hands around his neck as he thrusts inside of your tummy.

"oo my gosh, connie. m'gonna cum." your arch faltering, yearning for the sweet release that doing it yourself could never fulfill. his hips angled directly at your sweet spot sending warm n fuzzy shocks through your body.

his dick twitched inside of you and you knew he was close as well based off of his sloppier thrusts. so pussy drunk from your sopping cunt he didn't even hear you talking, he just continued with his pace.

your core tightened and the utmost sensational orgasm ripped out of you. it only took a few more weak strokes to lead to his thick sticky ribbons of goo shooting inside of you and painting your walls completely white.

"connie . . . do drug dealers have hookups to plan b's too?"

© 𝐊𝟐𝐒𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 ─ all rights reserved. do not translate. plagiarize, or repost any of my works to alternative sites, tumblr included.

[christinebloodwrittings]

Somebody that I used to know.

Request made by @white-00-7

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!reader Summary: Old friends turned into lovers under very distressing situations. Warning: Blood, Adam, violence.

After the Axe-man terrified the streets of New Orleans, there was the butcher of the bayou. A cannibalistic maniac, known to left no “crumbs” of their victims, so to speak. You knew that by being hunting season, he may be on the woods alongside you, what you didn’t counted on was the creep following you, rifle in hand.

A rustle was heard in between the bushes, you aimed at the bush with confidence, thinking it was probably a deer or a duck at least, the creep making haste to do the same, to your head. “Come out, come out” you whispered to yourself, seeing brown hair and antlers, there you shoot.

But the thud was lighter than a deer’s.

Moving the bush you saw a smiling man, “Holy shit!, no, sir, I’m so sorry, don’t die, help please!” you cried out, but as you turned around the lights were off as well. The sound of the trigger on the creep’s rifle was the last thing you heard.

The free fall was the least of it, but speaking of thousands of meters high, one does not think about the fall but rather the impact. However, it wasn't so hard for you, for the poor bastard under you, it was.

"Get off me!" he managed to throw you off his back, “I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to land on you” he dusted himself off as he regained his composure, clearing his voice when he noticed you were a woman.

“No, I apologize dear, here, let me help” He offered his clawed hand to yours, only by then both realized they didn’t looked like humans no more, “Interesting” he muttered, pulling gently on your arm.

He was looking at his new self when he heard a sudden laugh, “What’s so funny?” he questioned, then you pointed at yours and his little tail, “They’re so fluffy” he wasn’t so enchanted by the cutesy fact.

He was a deer, a white back at that. You on the other hand were a red one. A stag and a doe, how fitting both lifestyles of pride, more than anything.

“Why are you down here, dear?” you thought about it for a second, pride and rebellion was your first thought, then your taxidermy hobbies, “All I can think off is that poor man I killed as of a few minutes now, I mistook him for a…deer” he took a second to think about it, the click that made him stand up was a riffle trigger, your weapon.

He laughed, "You killed me," he continued his laughter, he took your arm to start walking towards the city, "I must say, my dear, that of all the evils in this world, you are the only thing I didn't think would send me to hell" It still made him laugh, "And it's even funnier that they killed you almost at the same time you killed me, life is a great irony" he smiled, one of the sweetest smiles he gifted you.

Now, don’t get him wrong, he was mad out of his mind, also slightly scared, not that he would admit that. Though the warmth of your arm linked with his brought him an anchor like feeling.

 After a few years of living together, Alastor disappeared without warning. "I will become stronger, soon the citizens of hell will know of my power” He used to take his place at your side and daydream about greatness and have everyone's respect, more fear than respect though.

“I will be able to protect you" that sentence lived rent free in your head, his voice a mere echo in your memories, after seven years you almost didn’t remembered his face anymore.

Alastor took care of the most bloodthirsty so that you didn't have to, without him there, you had to take measures into your own hands. The Pride Ring came to know you as one of the best snipers, the Overlord Ghost Shot, your elemental power to control the air could make your bullets fly up to lightspeed, also take away the oxygen off your enemies lungs.

You build up a company off the souls you began to own, you provided the fabrics that boosted businesses like Velvette’s or Rosie’s, known for the good quality and resistance. You didn’t worried yourself with planned obsolescence, there’s always a new design and a new trendy style that makes people keep buying.

And giving the amount of violence, clothes get ruin almost every day, Never in all the years you have been in hell have you been short of money, you managed to get a suite apartment in your own district, near the Morningstar district.

Eighty-four years of having Alastor by your side, and he just disappeared like he didn't care. Not a note, telegram, letter, anything in 7 years.

Until one afternoon when you received an invitation to an emergency meeting, it seems that Adam the first man brought forward the extermination half the time, having six months of preparation. Not one year you’ve lost a soul, but you weren’t going to start now.

“Asano, I need you to begin the preparations of the bunker, the winged rats will come down on us sooner than anticipated” you had souls knocking on your door, practically begging to make deals with you, giving that in exchange of their souls you provided safety, free housing, and a quality of life no other overlord did.

Although at the beginning some sinners wanted to abuse your good will, since you are a deer demon they tend to look down on you. They didn't find it funny anymore when they started to suffocate. Word on the street is that the air gets thicker when you’re in the room.

“I have the technical revision of my company Milla, if your plan is to arm yourself to fend off the attack don’t count on me, I have bigger priorities” Carmilla was one of your dearests friends, you made her gears laced with angelic steal fibers, and in return she updated your riffle, also gave you bullets made of angelic steal.

“I’m not saying we should, all we need is brainstorm a plan to lose as few souls as possible” she heard you made a pensative hum as she watched the overlords take their seats on the table, “You don’t wish to hide like we do, though you’ve lost more souls than I have over the years, so, do whatever you think is best, I’ll help if you want to listen for once” you hung up before Carmilla made herself aware of Alastor’s return.

 You didn’t owned a television, so Vox’s lovers spat never reached your way, and on the streets of your district no one really cared of other overlords, knowing they were under your wing.

"Y/n dear, how about you stop by the tower? They opened a new cafe on the corner, I bought cream cake and the tea that you like, it’s been a while since I saw you" said the letter that you received along with a new cell phone, Vox was more like a stone among the demons that courted you, and even though you sent his electronic junk broken back to his office, he didn't stop insisting.

“I’m so glad you came, how are your preparations for the extermination?” you brought the tea cup up to your lips, “It has been rather sudden; however I have managed to mobilize things on time, how about you?" he cut up a piece of cake, just as big as he knew you liked, “Oh we are fine, we aren’t the target anyway” your ears perked up in interest, his grin grew bigger on his face as he noticed.

“The princess is trying to redeem sinners, have you heard?” you nodded, “The Radio Demon is helping, but as useless as he is-” you began laughing, “The Radio Demon? What kind of pompous prick is named like that?” then sipped on the tea, “You know, Alastor” but as soon as he uttered that name, you choked on your tea and stormed out of his office.

And thank goodness, the air was too thick to breathe, Vox was having issues with it until you left.

“Mimzy, we know you’re in there you lousy bitch!” you heard the loan shark yell towards the  ‘Hazbin Hotel’, trying to knock the door down with a pry bar. “Gentleman, you’re in my way” you spoke, seeing a green glow wrapped the building.

“Not to mess with the Radio Demon!” taking another puff of your cigarette you watched the ten stories tall face of a man you used to know. A smile you didn’t recognized, stitched on the sides, holding his smile up. As soon as he finished eating the sharks he stopped on his tracks, merely centimeters away from your body.

“Y/n?” his distorted voice spoke in utter disbelief, “Good day Alastor, it’s been many moons, don’t you think?” He was frozen, the cute little deer girl he left all those years ago was nowhere to be seen. Replaced by a woman, wearing a dark black attire and tired eyes.

"Y/n, long time no see" he had to shift his voice a little, Charlie and the rest were right behind him inside the hotel. His chirp tone making it seem like he didn't disappeared at all, was a direct stab to your heart.

"You look..." you didn't know anymore, "Different" eyeing him from top to bottom with a disgust grimace in your face hurt him beyond his understanding, "Yes well, I told you I would get stronger" his eyes were different, they were empty.

"I see that, have a good day" you turned around in your heels ready to walk away from the place, "Y/n wait, that's it?" He was hurt? Why did he felt the audacity to pretend to be the victim when you were left behind.

"What else you want me to say?" Since he left, you stopped being joyful, the killing and the merciless torture you went through did that, and it was all his fault.

"A warmer welcome would be nice" you took out your rifle then shoot his shoulder with a dull bullet, "Warmer than that?" It didn't bleed but it hurt, so much it made Alastor take a few steps back.

"Alastor!" The princess cried out for him, "What do you think you're doing?!" Her little horns and red eyes made you snicker a little, "Is this what you've been doing all these years? Help this little girl with her hotel?" Alastor stood up, making seem as it didn't hurt at all, "Now, now Charlie, all is fine, no damage done" she tried to worry about him but it was no use, "Who is Alastor to you?" She asked you, distorted voice and hair flaring.

Alastor had his eyes on you specially when you locked on his dials flashing on and off, "Someone I used to know” the pain was real that time, Alastor didn’t even try to hide it, “Y/n please, let me explain” a small laugh escaped your lips, the first smile he saw from you in a while.

“Not a note, letter, smoke signal, nothing in seven years” he tried to make up an excuse, but you didn’t let him speak, “I had to find out from Vox, and as distasteful as he is, at least is a true friend to be in touch at least three times a week” the fact he told you sent a holy bullet up on his pride, “I can’t explain” he went again.

“I-don’t-FUCKING-care” you accentuated every word, “Woah, what is going on here?” the one and the only Lucifer Morningstar came next to his daughter, wondering wat was taking her so long after she ran out.

“They know each other” Charlie waved her hand in between the two. “Lover’s spat?” he inquired mockingly, which you replied with a straightforward and cold “No” making the devil choke on some saliva, “Makes sense though, with a face like that” when Lucifer turned his eyes from Alastor to you he saw the end of your rifle, “First one is a dull, will hurt, the second a holy one, apologize” internally Lucifer applauded your bravery, so with a smile that reached his ears he uttered “I’m sorry Alastor, I didn’t meant to bring out the obvious”.

He made you smile, “Good enough” you put the rifle strap over your shoulder again, “I’m not going to apologize for that, by the way” he didn’t expected you to.

Alastor watched the scene with jealousy, as in less than two seconds of interaction you received Lucifer in a better way than him, you even smiled at him better than him. If he had a reason to be angry that was one. When you turned your head he noticed a burn on your neck, then he went down and saw the scars on your hands, maybe how many more marks you had on your body, experiences  that took away the innocent friend he used to have.

"You're thin, you don't eat enough or what? What happened to your teeth?" you started making questions that made Alastor sweat, “What is this Radio Demon shit? Who do you think you are, huh?" “Somone that will take you down if you keep at it” “Baby, we’re not at the same level, you are the lowest of the overlords”

“She’s right” “I haven’t lost a single soul in all these years, I can steal air from your lungs by just wanting it” he started feeling at loss of breath, his lungs compressed forcefully searching for oxygen, “I offered you my life, my time, my love” you straightened his bow tie, ignoring Charlie’s pleas for you to stop hurting him, “And you just kissed me, and early in the morning after, you took off, seven years without a single signal you were alive”.

“And now I find out that you’ve been here for five months already, not even once you tried to reach me” your hands palmed his chest slowly, your warmth poring through his clothes, “I have my territory delimited by a black line, if you cross it, I won’t be so nice as I am now” you hovered your lips over his, returning the air down his throat.

Lucifer whistled an impressed tune, “Y/n please, I can explain” he heard Alastor breathing rapidly, getting off Charlie’s support to try to get you, his knees stopping on their tracks due to the lack of strength left, “Y/n right? He looks like he wants to make things right, please give him a chance” she plead, it getting to your head very quickly, damn that puppy face.  

“Y/n please, tea and tea” he dared to say, bringing Lucifer’s attention, “What’s that?” he looked your way for an explanation, “It’s where we drink tea and talk” you thought about it for a second then looked at his eyes once more, “Someday, not today, you seem preoccupied” with that you took your leave, feeling your heart heavy and lonesome as you did.

It wasn’t until Extermination day, that from your balcony you saw the horde of angels drop on the hotel, immediately seeing the flow of Alastor’s dark magic being shattered by Adam. Almost out of instinct you ensembled your long distance sniper rifle, setting it on the edge of the rail, waiting for a perfect angle to make the winged rat fall.

 Suddenly Alastor few against the edge of the building, that’s when you shot, the bullet piercing the base of both of Adam’s wings, making him wince and drop against the ceiling in pain.

“Radio ain’t dead until I say so, asshole” you allowed wind to take your message, prepping another bullet in the chamber, aiming directly at his head, “Freaky face has a girlfriend?” he joked to pass a little of the pain, “Y/n?” Alastor whispered to himself, feeling the air shift around him, his body reappearing beside you after a swirl of air teleported him.

“When I get my hands on you-“ you didn’t let Adam finish, shooting the joint of his shoulder, leaving useless his dominant arm. “Y/n” that’s all Alastor could utter, seeing you so beautifully concentrated in your aim, “You think I’ll spoil it for Lucifer if I shoot him dead?” you gave Adam a warning shot on the leg, the next one being a holy one.

“Good riddance either way, mon coeur” he had carefully stood up, supporting his weight with a hand on the railing and another around your waist, “Oh never mind, six wings is beating the shit out of him now” you said a tad disappointed since your game ended, feeling Alastor hiss at his wound.

“Don’t touch it, let’s go, I’ll help” you sat him on your bed, helping him discard his clothes. “I’m sorry for leaving like that” he sounded so sad and weak, he was deeply angry at himself for how blind he was, for taking you for granted and abandoning you without explanations.

“It doesn’t matter anymore” you made haste to patch up the wound as best as you could, but there was so much blood blocking your way, “Y/n, please forgive me” he pleads as you try your best to stitch the would close, “Why do you care so much whether if I forgive you or not?” he cupped your face, a tenderness unknown for you, uncommon of him.

He wasn’t used to be gentle, not desiring to rip your flesh apart was new to him. Instead there was this fire that warmed him up from the tip of his ears to the tip of his hooves, “Because…I love you” that word felt right, as his hands  brought your hips closer to him, his thighs on each side of your knees, “The moment to say that, was seven years ago” you allowed your powers to wrapped his bandages in a perfect way, “I can make it up to you” he could think of a thousand ways to bring you back to him, unsure if in the way you were now, any of those would work, but he had the rest of eternity to find out.

“And who assures me that you won't disappear again? I felt so alone without you” his hands pulled down your hips, seating you on his leg, “Me, I promise you I’m not leaving you again, I can’t” you laughed, hands on his bare shoulders, feeling the thin layer of fur.

“Is it because now I’m powerful?” he didn’t expected you to think different of him, he couldn’t blame you, ���No, because I cannot breathe without you, I missed you very much, mon amour” seven years of you in his mind, haunting him, missing the warm spot in his bed, refusing to sleep at all if it wasn’t with you.

“Please my love, my moon, my sun, my everything, let me rectify my wrongs” a chill it enveloped your entire body, “Or let your gun finish what you started” he reminded you of your set of words of earlier, his smile relaxed and lovely, “If you ever dare to abandon me again, I’ll prove that you in fact can die twice” your hissing at the last word made him sigh happily, then he moved to place a kiss on your cheek, inhaling your scent.

“You’re hurt” you whispered when his kiss traveled down to your neck, “I know, but I can bare it” you plead that he took a small time to rest, but he kept tightening his arm on your waist, then the other on the back of your neck.

When he licked the underside of your neck up to your chin, he suddenly winced, proving your point, “How about we try something else?” you saw him grin, he only did that when he had something on his head, “William found the bath a while ago” you saw the slippery friend crawl up the wall, a proud smile on his face.

“You sent him to draw a bath?” he chuckled, “I remembered it was something you fancied, the morning after us…” he remembered, you told him you wanted to wash his hair in the morning, but he left before even giving you an answer, “You know that means I’ll have to touch you?” his ears pinned down on his head so he could nuzzle against your neck, “Ever since that day, I’ve craved no one’s touch, just yours”.

His grin grew when he felt a certain movement against his forearm, “Damn thing” you cursed, “You’re not the only one” he was wagging his life off, he guided your hand to his lower back so you could feel him, “Sappy old man” you kissed his lips, “You’re not that younger than me” he continued the loving gesture, “The water will get cold” you heard the shadow groan thinking his efforts will go to waste.

“Let’s get to it then” you spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms, Alastor nearly passed out when you were massaging his scalp with the lovely scented shampoo, you told him you were never going to stop bragging about it. Then when it was your turn to get pampered, he couldn’t stop himself from kissing your shoulders, the back of your neck, arms, every piece of skin he could.

His hands just as yours were free to roam around, both delighting in the ministrations, to the point only moans of satisfaction were echoing in the bathroom.

“Just so you know, if you have a significant other, he’s dead, you’re mine now” you giggled at his possessive nature, now both dry but still naked on the bed, “Good thing I ended that relationship months ago” you sassed him, earning a small bite on your clavicle, “As soon as I’m better, I’m claiming you” his eyes shifted to have dials, “Sure thing, you have a lot of pain to make up for, ya’ know?” he knew that.

There were parts of your body that were burnt, others covered by patches made of steel, then there were the cuts, the scars, the lashes, everything he acknowledged it was his fault, “This, are they dead?” you shook your head, “Then my broadcast will have new voices” his voice took a low tone and the growl made you feel butterflies, “Thank you” you whispered, lowering just enough so you could have your head under his chin, legs intertwined, arms holding each other as close as possible.

“This is going to sound weird, but I’m glad I killed you” he let out a breathy laugh, “Me too”.

[bwabys-scenarios]

please please please PLEASE write a nanami fic (jjk)

nanami is at his desk doing some paperwork and the reader is just so needy, so she starts dry humping his thigh

you can take it as far as you’d like >:3

- :3

Needy Wife

Nanami x Fem!Reader

warning: dry humping, creampie

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

A/N: requests open, but I prefer HXH requests. If you’re going to request JJK, please make it interesting/detailed or give me a good prompt!

taglist: @desiray562

if you would like to be added to the NSFW taglist, comment a ❤️!! make sure you have your AGE in your bio, and that you’re able to be tagged/mentioned!

It was another long day for Nanami, the man having to do paperwork even after coming home from his job. His cute wife, you, had been hoping for some fun and quality time spent with your husband, but were thoroughly disappointed when all you got was a hasty kiss on the cheek after his arrival.

“Sorry, darling, I have more work to do. Call me when dinner is ready.”

Nanami brushed last you, entering his office and closing the door behind him. It was enough to leave you standing there, a pout forming on your face.

You’d put on a nice set of lingerie under your dress, hoping to surprise him after work, but now he was shut away in his office.

For the first 30 minutes, you attempted to busy yourself with cooking dinner, but after everything was put in the oven and the timer was set, you now had nothing else to distract you from the warmth pooling between your legs.

Before you could stop yourself, you snuck towards Nanami’s office, trying to ignore how wet you were getting just by thinking about what you were about to do.

“Nanami? Can I come in?”

You ask as you knock on the door. Nanami grunts before answering. “The doors open, angel.”

You smile, opening the door to see your husband sitting at his desk, rubbing his temple as he looked over paper after paper, occasionally picking up his pen to write something down.

“Is there something you need, (Name)?”

You squirm in your spot, watching as he sets his pen down to look at you. He raises an eyebrow at your expression, leaning back in his chair slightly.

“Can I… sit with you? I missed you today…”

He looked at you for a few seconds, seeming to contemplate your question before giving you a quick nod. “Come on.”

You scurried over to him, happily climbing into his lap, one of his large thighs between your legs. For a few minutes, you stayed still, waiting for him to relax before you slowly started to grind against his thigh.

The man instantly stopped what he was doing, his hand moving to grip your hip. “(Name)? What do you think you’re doing?”

You could tell by the strength of his grip that you’d surprised him, so you whine a little, trying to buck your hips against him. “You’ve been so busy lately, so I wanted to…”

He sighs, removing his hand and instead wrapping it around your waist so you could continue your movements. “… my apologies, carry on.”

Despite his calm and collected tone, you could see the bulge already beginning to form in his pants as you began to move again, soft whimpers and moans escaping your lips. “Mmph, Kento…”

He stopped writing again at the sound of you moaning out his name, using his free hand to slip into your panties, rubbing at your clit. “I’ve been neglecting my lovely wife, haven’t I? Give me 10 more minutes and I’ll be all yours for the night.”

He removed his hand from your pussy, tapping them against your lips to signal you to open your mouth. As you continued to grind against him, you sucked on his wet digits, tasting yourself.

As you got closer to your climax, you began to move faster, panting and whining. “K-Kento, gonna-“

Before you could even think, you were being bent over his desk, your new panties being ripped off and Nanami’s fat cock being shoved into you.

He fucked you through your orgasm, a hand pressed firmly against the small of your back as he pounded into you.

“My poor wife, so needy and spoiled. Is this what you wanted?”

He took the rest of the night off to show you just how much he loves you, giving you creampie after creampie for each day you went without his love and appreciation.

[eggyrocks]

bruised part seven -> the healing power of shit talking

m.list

♪ now playing: first love/late spring by mitski ♪

“Are there any concerns you have going into Worlds?”

Iwaizumi bounces his knee, leaning back against the chair at his desk. He stares attentively at his computer screen, her face pixelated across it. It’s strange, he thinks, to see the face he’s known since he was a kid splayed out on screen, twisting in thought.

She’s always hated interviews, ever since her first one, and he can see it on her now. When she gnaws on the inside of her cheek. When she crosses her arms tightly over her chest, fingers tapping against her bicep. When her lip slightly twitches before she speaks. “The bracket’s stacked with a lot of heavy hitters,” she answers, and Iwaizumi can hear the forced diplomacy in her voice, even through the poor audio quality of his desktop’s speakers. “So I just have to make sure I go in with a clear head and play to my own strengths instead of fixating in on my opponent’s. That’s gotten me into trouble before.”

He chuckles at her answer. It’s so strained and uncharacteristic. Because if it was him that had asked her, she would roll her eyes and say, “Yeah, fucking of course I do. It’s Worlds. Don’t be stupid.” But because there is a camera on her face, she puts up a front of faux concentration and gives the first bullshit answer she can think of.

Iwaizumi taps a finger against the edge of his desk, resting his chin on the heel of his other palm. He studies her as she fields another question about her disadvantages against pressure fighters. Her left hand slips under her right elbow, cradling it, thumb drawing circles over the bone. He huffs.

It’s bothering her. Of course it’s bothering her.

His first frustrated thought is that she’s stupid for not telling him, because he told her to keep him updated on how the healing progressed and if she had any pain.

And then his second, worse thought is that it’s entirely his fault that she didn’t.

My world doesn’t revolve around you, y’know.

Iwaizumi sighs, reaching forward to knock his thumb into the space bar, pausing the video right as she started delving into her defense training. He knew it would work. Still, he was just sort of hoping it wouldn’t.

And now that it has, it feels shitty. Really fucking shitty.

Absentmindedly, he digs into his pocket and fishes out his phone, hoping that there might be a notification from her and hoping that there might not be. He’s more disappointed than relieved when there’s nothing.

He opens their conversation, thumbs hovering over the keyboard. Iwaizumi looks at her last words to him just a few days back: okay, whatever. He swallows, and types out a quick and plain: I’m sorry.

Iwaizumi stares down at the unsent message. He doesn’t know how to apologize without taking it back. He doesn’t know how to take it back without setting the distance.

There’s this urge in him to be selfish. To apologize and do whatever groveling is needed to get back to how they were before. But he knows that they can’t go on like that forever. That he would always be standing in her way. That he can’t always be the person she’d choose over anyone else. And if there was a time for his honesty, he knows for certain it’s passed.

Iwaizumi deletes it letter by letter. He knows she needs the distance.

He turns his attention back to the screen and presses play on the video. She picks up mid-sentence, giving them a canned line about how to effectively defend when she’s pushed up into a corner.

“And one last question for you and then I’ll let you get back to training. Is there a driving force behind your punch? What inspires you to fight?”

She was asked the same question back in their university days. He remembers her answer, word for word as it was back then. She grinned, brightly and genuinely, and looked right at the camera as she said, “I promised my friend I’d win.”

Now, she offers a half-hearted shrug and says with a light chuckle, “Who knows these days?”

fun facts!

yn typed out “np” with actual tears in her eyes

when she said “i know i can be clingy sometimes” she did mean it but there was a (big) part of her hoping he’d deny it and say he likes the attention she gives him

iwaizumi on the other hand was trying very hard not to say exactly that

he didn’t know what the right thing to say was so he just said generic word salad and then immediately regretted it

he’s not doing great either rn

yn has a hyperextended elbow and has had issues with dislocation in the past; she’s been able to avoid surgery but she’s been getting worried abt it acting up again

she wears compression sleeves while she trains to try and keep it at bay

bonus!

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @publicbathroompanic @bedeater @rottingt1tz @rintarawr @deluluforcarlos55 @ahseyy @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @baskin-robinhoods @polish-cereal @iheartamora @ferntv @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @pinkiscool @hikikaimar @needtoloveoutloud @iheartpinky @makkir0ll @cr4yolaas @k8nicole @cannibalsrider @bookworm-center @causenessus @frootloopscos @0moonii @ekeio @michivrse @phoenix-eclipses @rinthegoose69 @melancholy-nightmares @kottonkndyy @hermaeusmorax @milkwithspiceyicecubes (please complete form linked in masterlist to be added)

[twiisted-king]

✧ Gwen Stacy GF HC’s ✧

➟ Gwen Stacy / GN!Reader 🕸���🤍

➟ SFW ( she’s 16 you sick fucks )

➟ TW : Depression mentions & Injuries/Blood ( It’s fairly fluffy <3 )

————————————————————————

— At first, Gwen didn’t think that she had a crush on you. She denied it up and down even though it was abundantly obvious y’all had chemistry.

— She was Spider-Woman! She didn’t have time for relationships and all the unnecessary parts of life.

— It was frustrated Gwen to hell and back just trying to ignore her feelings. She would avoid you at school, take extra long patrols, anything to get you off her mind.

— Until you started noticing how she had been avoiding you. I don’t think Gwen is the best at processing her emotions and when you confront her about it she sort of breaks down in a way. She apologizes for ignoring you then quickly decides to just give up the ghost and confess.

— Poor Gwen is standing there, smiling awkwardly at you and convincing herself you are absolutely going to reject her. Until you don’t and then she nearly has a heart attack on the spot.

— Gwen definitely gets better at being a girlfriend as time progresses. She always leaves little notes for you, texts you whenever she can, and bring you your favorite snacks. Gwen’s love language is definitely Acts of Service and Quality Time.

— You’re craving ice cream at 12 o’clock at night? Good because she is to and she’s already out the door to the nearest gas station.

— However, one thorn in the relationship is the fact that she’s Spider-Woman. It gets harder to make excuses for why she’s covered in bruises and limping all the time. Maybe she should tell you? But what if you leave her or worse hate her for keeping such a big secret !? Gwen is definitely overthinking everything.

— Her secret is revealed one day when you unexpectedly come over to her apartment one day just as she’s crawling into the window in costume. Y’all have a little staring contest before she has to take off the mask because why the hell would Spider-Woman be crawling in your girlfriend’s window at 10 O’clock at night?

— Gwen definitely cries. Apologizing profusely and begging you not to tell her dad about any of this. Instead, you just hug her and she realizes that you aren’t mad at her. She answers any questions you have though is somewhat hesitant since she doesn’t want you getting dragged into any of it. Her first priority is making sure you are safe and no one finds out you’re Spider-Woman’s S/O.

— She takes you to your place of choice as an apology just to be extra EXTRA sure you aren’t mad at her.

— You patch up Gwen’s wounds all the time. Few words are spoke once the med kit comes out and she is grateful to have someone who is willing to deal with her crimefighting BS. Being a superhero can be super depressing and you are always there to be a shoulder for her to lean on.

— On a slightly more happy note, Gwen would love to teach you how to play the drums! It’s pretty adorable to see her get so excited about something she’s passionate about.

— Gwen always tries to get you something for your birthday. She’ll save up months in advance so she can get the perfect gift and take mental notes of what you like. She tried to make a cake one year .. that didn’t turn out well so she just bought one instead.

— She’ll let you borrow her clothes if you want and won’t say anything if it never appears in her closet again.

— I do think her dad would be supportive of the relationship. It’s a little awkward the first time y’all have dinner together, but George Stacy is fairly chill once you get to know him. This man makes shitty dad jokes though and tells embarrassing childhood stories about Gwen to you.

— SO many pictures of you. Not even just on her phone but also hung up around her room. It’s kind of cute how flustered she gets when you point out her phone wallpaper of y’all.

— Late night talks on rooftops. Gwen finds being outside relaxing and she’ll make a whole set up so you two can stargaze.

— Called you “ Babygirl “ as a joke once now it’s a running gag.

— She finds cursed images / 3 AM humor to be the absolute peak of comedy and sends the dumbest shit to you.

— She wanted to show off her webs to you once then proceeded to accidentally get your foot stuck to a wall and THEN got herself stuck trying to help.

— Movies dates are common and she’ll purposely pick out the worst ones so she can give commentary. Twilight was an absolute rollercoaster for her.

— Builds a cute little house in Minecraft for y’all to live in please just ignore the fact it has no roof and the floors are made of dirt.

— And the best girlfriend of the year award goes to Gwen Stacy :)

[dxstopiaa]

Gratifying Gambit

Synopsis: Playing Genius Invocation with your lover seems to evolve into something quite heated.

Characters: Al Haitham, Kaveh, Cyno and Tighnari x Reader!

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, otherwise none. [ Apologies for such infrequent updates <\3 P.S do know how difficult fighting cyno in tcg windblume was? that feeling when i finally beat him. (ᗒᗣᗕ)՞]

Al Haitham

Al Haitham has been defeated!

You couldn’t possibly of expected the Grand Sage to be in peak condition after keeping him awake for so long. It was evident he would rather be in his own company, reading before getting early rest.

Al Haitham’s eyelids drooped slightly— teal irises clouded with the urge for slumber. But he pressed on, insisting that his sleep didn’t matter as much when it came to spending time with you, even if it wasn’t exactly quality.

“No, it’s alright, it’s your turn.” Your lover murmured, resting his head in his hands. No problem, this is only one night of many, he’ll get his rest eventually.

“Haitham? I’ve conceded my round already…” You raised a brow, arm outstretched to brush his tresses from obstructing your view of him. Ah, that’s the issue. No wonder he had lost these past matches.

His eyes were fluttering shut, drifting off to the abode of dreams until he forced himself awake again. An all too familar cycle with yourself, but one which didn’t synergise with the Scribe.

“Dear, are you…sleeping? I didn’t think i was that boring!” You huffed, tone tinted with slight offence but amusement nonetheless. Al Haitham couldnt retain the hushed smile creeping up his face. You were too lovable for your own good.

Another unusual occurrence, your beloved’s laughter. It was sweet— carefree and adorable for a stoic man such as he. Either your heart almost flipped in place, or your brain short-circuited.

“Quite the opposite actually, go on, i’ll play one more game with you.”

You have been defeated!

Strategy, the foundation of card games. The secret to winning every match was to be adaptable but reliably balanced in strength and defence, Al Haitham had read such in a handbook, a little foreign to his tastes but interesting nonetheless.

He was determined to prove such tactics correct— that he did, with grace. A stubborn man like him, you expected him to stick to his dendro team compositions, yet he took you by surprise.

“Are you not going to…” You trailed off, glaring at his deck of cards which weren’t in usual order. Only then had you recognised your mistake.

“Hm? Oh this, i figured i should alter it more often, i’ll start.” Al Haitham’s smirk could be heard through his tone, folding his arms after already reducing your health far below healthy standards. Appears like the luck was on his side too.

You tripped over your words in an attempt to condone your poor performance, phrases like: ‘My hand slipped!’ or ‘Wait, i’m not ready!’

“Haitham!” But he knew, regardless of how many times you whined his name with exasperation, it was just a way to cope with your unfortunate loss. Just like the Scribe was attempting to conceal that stochastic fluttering in his chest from the nickname.

“I win, my reward is for you to call me that name for the rest of our time together.”

Kaveh

Kaveh has been defeated!

“Hey! Give me a chance at least!” Kaveh groaned, throwing his cards quite aggressively upon the table in defeat. To think that he called himself skilled at TCG just an hour ago— now there was no denying he felt embarrassed.

The young architect, better known as your husband, breathed out an exasperated sigh when you merely giggled at his suffering. Kaveh didn’t know where he went wrong, he had prepared himself for this yet he still couldn’t beat you!

You, on the other hand, found the situation humorous. He just looked so lovable with that pout on his lips— eyes screwed narrowly whilst he scrutinised his attempt at deceiving you.

“Sorry, love! I just thought you’d want better competition for your amazing skills.” You teased, mocking him for your own amusement. The look upon his face was something much more than just disapproval, as if he wanted to strangle you (lovingly, of course.)

How did you know all of his moves, he asks? Well, playing a tactical game with someone who shares a bit too much detail whilst intoxicated was not a sensible choice. And you may of just coerced him into informing you of his playstyle by rewarding him with a kiss.

Such information should remain hidden, keeping your irked lover in the dark wouldn’t hurt, right? Nothing other than his sanity, anyway.

“Again? Dear, can you read my mind?”

You have been defeated!

You shouldn’t of done that— hoping the blonde opposite you failed to recognise your poorly thought mistake. A shame that Kaveh was a discreetly intelligent man, a satisfied smirk growing over his face.

“Wait, I didn’t mean to do that!” You exclaimed, trapping your husband’s hand under your own, nearly falling from your chair. He cackled mercilessly, finishing off your deck in one turn.

It was his concept of revenge, you had won all previous matches, it’s fair enough. It’s too bad for you, now Kaveh had no choice but to smear vanquish over your streak. The game prior to this beheld a score of six to zero, at least your husband didn’t walk out with that quite embarrassing score.

“Dramatic does not mean dumb, sweetheart.” Your lover admitted, leaving his seat from the table to collect the remaining dice— and partly to tower over beside you to witness that solemn expression.

Eagerly, you seized his collar and brought him down face-level, gifting a chaste kiss to his lips before turning away as if you never had.

“You can’t just leave me like that, come here-”

Cyno

Cyno has been defeated!

“Don’t get cocky.”

Something that he shouldn’t of said to you— rather some advice he should of taken himself. For a supposedly lighthearted card game, Cyno took it very seriously, to the point it became comical. After all, he’s never lost to anyone before.

So when you slammed your card upon the playing table, your new tactics you had learnt had proved to outmatch the uncrowned archon of Genius Invocation. The plan? Delay your actions until you could utilise elemental reactions and one-shot every last card of his once vulnerable.

Quite expectedly, your boyfriend appeared mortified, not only did he gasp as if he had been physically injured, but his mouth flew ajar. Cyno wanted to express his resentment, but that became increasingly challenging with how proud you looked.

“See! I told you i’ve been practicing!” You giggled, leaving your seat at the table and wrapping your arms around his neck, swaying the seething general to and fro. No matter, you already knew how much he adored seeing you as contented as you were.

It wouldn’t take long to crack that false shell of offence, sporting a gleeful grin at last. Cyno sighed, resting his elbows on the table whilst he massaged those restless crimson eyes of his. Another card drawn, another hour spent away in his company.

“You win this time, but you want to see what i’ve been practicing too, love?”

You have been defeated!

Cyno wasn’t that malevolent to defeat you in his favourite card game so soon; you were only a beginner, that wouldn’t be necessary. That was until you began to grasp the concept of it rather quickly.

It was endearing how you were so keen to conquer your boyfriend, of course he had to let you win the first couple of rounds. Your virtuous grin when you inflicted damage greater than he had expected alone was a sufficient reason.

“Hmm you win again, how about i increase the difficulty, darling?” Cyno proposed. You shouldn’t of hastily nodded your head, you later found you underestimated him a little too much.

A fault of yours was your predictability— the customary vaporise deck, a common choice he often saw. Perhaps you were playing it safe? Standard set up too, simply apply hydro and then pyro. Too bad your lover could counter that in no time.

Turn by turn, your cards were disintegrated before your very eyes. No amount of healing or event draws could repair the damage done in that round— or to your morale for that matter.

The general braced his deck, peering over it to witness you frowning at the ‘unfair’ move he made. Stifling his laughter was becoming increasingly difficult, wearing an upturned smirk instead.

“Cyno! Stop the mockery, it’s not funny!” You whined, resting your head against the table in defeat, not desiring to get your pride handed back to you once more.

There’s always a next time to achieve victory. For now, just enjoy your boyfriend tidying your hair away from your chagrined countenance.

Tighnari

Tighnari has been defeated!

You were more than just delighted to reveal your new deck to your boyfriend, or more specifically—a character card of his own. He wore a cute expression, eyes gleaming with motivation and pride whilst his illustrated lips curved into a cheeky grin.

Endearing you find it, and glad you had pre-release access to the card which was intended to be announced to the public in a week. Rightfully so as his lover.

“So…you’re telling me that this card of mine, will grant you luck?” Tighnari hesitated, analysing the card between two fingers. He found the depiction of himself to be slightly inaccurate, but he brushed it off with a light sigh.

“Yes! ‘Nari, please?” You requested, smiling softly when the chief forest ranger surrendered to your pleads. You gleefully sat opposite him, board infront with dice scattered over it. You rolls seemed to be the first indicator of your luck, all dendro and electro—just like your team.

Tighnari, on the other hand, was a bit more unfortunate, having to reroll with multiple event cards just to play a skill. With every fallen character, he slumped further into his chair with disappointment.

“Alright, how is my own card luckier than me?” Your lover complained, plucking it from your hands and hiding it away in his pocket.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get it back, i don’t want you to favour a fake rather than the real version infront of you, dearest.”

You have been defeated!

“Love, did you drink too much? You’re usually better at this than me.” The forest ranger questioned, an eyebrow cocked upwards at your quizzical behaviour.

It was already the third round yet you hadn’t played any meaningful action at all. One could argue that you were simply stalling— but that was not an ample excuse.

Your palm struggled to keep the weight of your head upright, giving out from beneath it and opting to slouch over the table. That didn’t stop the incoherent mumbles from spilling out your lips, now batting your eyes at your boyfriend.

“Nari, you’re so cute…i’ll let you have the win whenever.” You whined cheekily, observing Tighnari scoff, attempting to hide the scarlet flush developing with disregard. Just what has happened to you today?

“I appreciate it, but you need to get some rest, you’re scaring me.” He muttered, leaving his seat to aid you upstairs, with much difficulty. Reminder: Don’t leave alcohol around you again.

Neither of you had exactly lost or won, but you could say that you were the first to fall deeper for another.

[prince-kallisto]

Crowley’s Opening Prologue Speech Comparisons: Manga vs Game

Now that I got my hands on the official English translation of the first volume of the Heartslabyul manga, I have collected yet another edition of Crowley’s opening speech haha!

The official translation is on the left (apologies for the poor photo quality), and the popular fan translation is on the right. I included the fan translation because many have us have relied on the wonderful work of the manga translators, so I thought it would be nice to compare the two ٩( 'ω' )و

The official manga translation reads “Ah…my cherished benefactor. Wicked bloom that doth nobly enthrall…thou art the fairest one of all. Magic mirror, on the wall. Who is the…”

The fan translation reads “Ah, my loveliest highness…Dignified in all your nobility, a most wicked flower. You are truly the fairest of them all. Mirror, mirror, on the wall, reveal this to me. Of this world, who is…”

I put the Japanese text and the official English translation of the in-game lines. The English game translation reads “Ah, my dear esteemed benefactor…My proud, beautiful flower of evil. You are truly the fairest one of all. O magic mirror, thy wisdom I entreat…reveal unto me the visage I seek…”

Since I cannot read Japanese, nor have I been able to find what the Japanese version of the manga says, I cannot attest to the “accuracy” of these lines, or if there’s a flexibility to how Crowley’s lines can be translated. Perhaps the manga adjusted the end of Crowley’s speech to be slightly shorter to save on space? (The Twisted Wonderland novel does not have this speech by the way, at least to my knowledge)

The official manga translation seems to value the rhythm of the words (enthrall, all, wall), and having Crowley speak in an archaic form, with “doth” and “thou art.”

I’d like to add that “enthrall” refers to charm or being spellbound attention-wise. But the archaic version of the word also refers to being bound in slavery. Since the manga translates Crowley with archaic terms, I thought this would be interesting to point out! Perhaps he is “enslaved” by his benefactors beauty, or perhaps in a more literal sense?

Both the EN game and manga seem to keep the identity of the person Crowley is speaking to gender neutral, using “benefactor.”

Crowley’s relationship with his benefactor very very subtly shifts between the game and the manga, but it’s essentially the same thing with different language used. The game calls them his “dear esteemed benefactor,” as in respect or admire. But the manga uses “cherished benefactor,” as if this is someone that Crowley loves dearly and holds them close to his heart. The game does say “dear,” but it somehow feels a little more direct in the manga haha because he’s not just referring to his respect/admiration, but maybe it’s just me. But the game also implies this, with him saying “MY proud, beautiful flower of evil.”

I’d love to hear everyone’s thoughts about this! If any of y’all can read Japanese and can compare this to the original game text, I would be honored to know about this as well! \(//∇//)\ Does anyone have a preferred translation either? I really like the game translation, but the official manga with the archaic speech is personally growing on me!

Edit: Part 2 for the ending part of this same prologue speech

[effloradox]

cornelia street; robert m. renfield.

track nine of LOVER

pairing: robert renfield x f!reader

synopsis: your soulmate’s first words to you are written on your wrist

word count: 3.2k

The modern world was confusing. Renfield had watched the world change rapidly around him during his century as Dracula’s familiar and the way humans had changed never failed to surprise him. It had made life more difficult for him, Dracula’s need for good quality blood was harder to fulfil in a world where the influence of the church was increasingly slipping and sour blood was more common than ever before. His master didn’t understand that, of course, and just berated his familiar for doing such a poor job in attending to his needs.

Finding DRAAG had been a good twist of fate. New Orleans wasn’t quite what he’d expected, slightly more lawless than he’d initially assumed, but it had plenty of derelict buildings that he could move Dracula between if they were to be discovered and people went missing frequently enough that taking victims to his master wasn't going to alert too much suspicion. The group had become something of a lifeline for him after a few weeks in the city. He’d followed Bob inside after thinking he would make a good victim, and five weeks later he was still coming to the group. Everyone was so desperately sad, and a part of Renfield had identified with their stories and that kept him coming back.

It was especially hard listening to the people who had realised they were codependent with their soulmate. To watch them lament that this was meant to be the perfect person for them and they had fallen into destructive patterns with them had hit a sore spot somewhere deep inside Renfield. He’d never met his soulmate, his marriage to his late wife had been one of convenience rather than based on a soul bond, and it didn’t mean he loved her any less but his heart had always ached that he’d probably never meet his soulmate. Him and his master had moved so frequently that he was sure his soulmate had passed him by like ships in the night, or day really since he and his master did all their travelling by night.

If his master had ever noticed him absentmindedly tracing his words, he had never commented on it. His master didn’t have any words, Renfield had checked one time when he’d been tending to his needs, and he was sure if he ever brought up being lonely his master would begin another speech about how he didn’t need a soulmate, that they had each other and that humans were beneath them. The lectures had been focused solely on bringing his master back to full power recently but they had been happening more frequently, like tonight for instance. He’d been ready to go to the DRAAG meeting when Dracula had started another lecture about having to consume sour blood again and wanting Renfield to find him some nuns to eat.

He’d arrived late to this meeting, nervously babbling out an apology to Mark and the others as he took a seat in the back circle. It had taken him a few minutes to realise that there was a new face sitting with the group. She was sitting next to Carol, and the two seemed to know each other based on how they’d moved their chairs to be closer together. They were whispering quietly to each other, not quite loud enough to be audible but enough that he knew they were doing so. He tried not to stare, but there was something about Carol’s friend that had entranced him. He began to trace his words again, a nervous habit he’d developed over the years, only stopping when he saw Mark take notice. He waited for Lawrence to finish his share before looking to Renfield.

“Renfield, do you want to share today?”

“No, I’m good I think.” Mark sighed lightly at the denial, clearly having expected it.

“You’ve been coming here for a few weeks now, and you don’t have to say anything, but you’re always welcome to share. This is a safe space for you to speak your truth.”

“I suppose so.” Mark and the rest of the group were quiet for a moment, clearly waiting for another round of pushback from Renfield but when he gave none, Mark proceeded in a gentle tone.

“Is it your soulmate?”

“No, I haven't actually met them yet.” There were a few sympathetic noises from various people sitting in the circle. If they felt bad that a man who looked to be in his thirties hadn’t met his soulmate, he didn’t want to think about how they’d react if they knew he was almost one hundred years old and hadn’t met them. They’d probably refer him for a psychological evaluation if he said that part out loud though; whilst he didn’t exactly take pride in his appearance, Dracula’s ability to stop his body ageing meant he hadn’t physically aged for almost as long as he’d known the Count.

“And do you think the person you’re in a codependent relationship with is taking advantage of that?”

“Honestly? No. My boss he, uh, he’s blank. I don’t think he particularly minds but that also means that he doesn’t care about me and finding my soulmate.” Being blank wasn’t particularly common, and it always invoked a specific sympathy from everyone who found out. The idea that you were a person without another half in a society where that was the norm always tended to put people on edge. Renfield had always been somewhat relieved that Dracula didn’t have a soulmate, the idea of having another vampire to tend to the needs of and transport around seemed like much more hassle than he cared to entertain. One Lord of Darkness was more than enough, thank you very much.

“That must be hard for him, but that doesn't mean that you have to put off your chances of happiness just because he’s blank. Has he ever taken any interest or even acknowledged that you haven’t met your soulmate yet?”

“I don’t think it’s even occurred to him to be honest. I think if anything he’s probably glad, I think it would be fair to say that meeting my soulmate may influence my ability to do my job the way he expects me to.”

“So what would happen, hypothetically speaking, if you were to seek out your soulmate?” The question drew only a blank in Renfield’s mind, and he noticed the flicker of pity that passed over Mark’s face when he struggled to imagine a world where he prioritised himself rather than his boss.

“What do you mean?”

“If you went off and tried to find your soulmate, what would happen?”

“I couldn’t leave my boss for that long.”

“Well, why not?”

“He has this medical condition you see, it means he can’t go out in the daytime, or much at all. If I’m not there to help him, well it doesn’t bear thinking about really.”

“Oh so you’re like a carer then?” Renfield wasn’t sure who spoke up, but it occurred to him that his relationship with his master would sound very strange if he disagreed with the interjection.

“I suppose you could put it like that.”

“I understand that it’s more complex when there are medical needs involved but listen to me Renfield, you cannot put your entire life on hold for someone else. You are important, you have value, and you are more than what your boss seems to see you as.” Renfield shifted uncomfortably in his seat, wringing his hands together. It was much easier attending the meetings when the spotlight wasn’t on him. He stayed quiet in the hopes that someone would interrupt his share but no one came to his rescue and he was left scrambling for something to say next.

“I guess it’s just hard because if he doesn’t have me then there’s no one else who could take care of him. After working for him for so long it wouldn’t feel right to just leave him.” Mark seemed to notice that he was getting more uncomfortable and mercifully decided to open the discussion back to the rest of the group by talking about the sense of duty that came with being codependent before announcing that the meeting was over. Renfield stayed in his seat as most of the group migrated towards the exit. A few people were still inside when he finally stood and went over to the refreshment table, his throat aching for a glass of water. He made quick work of the glass and stood for a moment, cursing himself for speaking ill of his master. He was so in his head that he didn't hear the footsteps coming up behind him until the person spoke.

“I like what you said about your boss.” The world seemed to shift on his axis as he heard the soft voice behind him speak. He turned around and saw the shy smile you were sporting, completely unaware that you had just turned his world upside down in a single sentence. You'd spoken his words.

His words had always confused him slightly, and that had only grown when he's become Dracula's familiar. He'd never been able to imagine a scenario when he'd be freely talking to people about his master, but this made perfect sense in a weird way. He realised that he hadn't spoken yet, and he probably looked like a deer in the headlights and it took him a few beats to come up with a response.

“It’s you.” He watched as it dawned on you what had just occurred between the two of you. The smile that grew on your face made you look truly radiant, like an angel sent directly from above. It felt like he was being saved and being damned all at once and any and all trepidation he’s had about this moment vanished from his mind as he took you in.

“Hey.” The word is soft, you’re clearly still trying to process what’s just happened after all, but it feels like it echoes in his mind, a pleasant change from the way his master’s voice booms through his skull when he deems it fit to communicate like that.

“Hello.”

“I’m, uh, I’m (Y/N).” You gesture to the name sticker on your jacket, and he smiles when he sees a small smiley face drawn next to your name.

“Robert. Robert Montague Renfield.” He holds out a hand to you, trying to hide the slight tremor, and when you take his hand it feels like a shock running through his body. It’s electrifying and relaxing all at once and it’s perfect. You’re perfect.

“It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“It’s funny really, of all the places in the world I never expected it to be at a codependency anonymous group.” It occurred to Renfield that you hadn’t spoken at all during the meeting and he truly hopes you’re not here because of some awful person you can’t escape from. All his anxieties are put to rest when you reply though.

“I’m not codependent actually, I’m just here to support Carol. But, if you’d like help with your situation, I’d be more than happy to listen. Or if not, we can just grab a coffee, get to know each other?”

“I’d like that very much.” You beam at him before turning to the refreshment table and picking up one of the small business cards that had been scattered amongst the snacks. You grab the pen that lay next to the name tags and write something on the back of the card, handing it to him.

“I need to take Carol home but you should call me. We can go grab that coffee.”

“I will. Yes, definitely.” He watched as you turned to face Carol and the two of you made your way to the exit. You turned back to face him, giving him a small wave as you walked out into the cool night, and Renfield was left alone in the gymnasium. It was only then that it occurred to him that he had no plans for people to bring to Dracula to satisfy him tonight. He cursed himself lightly under his breath as he walked outside and began the walk back to the hospital. The closer he got the more anxious he became, and it was only when he passed the church that his luck seemed to change. He spotted a woman, maybe in her late twenties or early thirties, leaning against the wall and looking to be in rather bad shape. He’d been cautious upon approaching her in case she was with someone but when she drunkenly slurred out that her friends had ditched her, her fate was sealed. It hadn’t been difficult to overpower her, the chloroform in his pocket had done its job as quickly as ever and, with the aid of a bug, it had been easy to pull her into a bridal hold and walk the rest of the way back to the hospital.

Luck seems to remain on his side as he makes it the entire walk without spotting a single patrolling police car, and once he got to the hospital it was easy for him to drop the body onto one of the gurneys he always left near the entrance and then push that the rest of the way. He made it through the hospital without hearing his master until finally reaching the room his master spent most of his time residing in.

“Renfield! Where have you been? Where’s my dinner?”

“Right here, master!” He pushes the unconscious body off the gurney to the ground just shy of the makeshift throne his master was currently sitting in. Dracula didn’t look at all pleased by the offering, slowly rising to his feet. His recovery from their run-in with the vampire hunters had been a slow one, but his skin had finally started to grow back and, whilst he was revolting to look at, it meant he was nearly fully healed again.

“Is it a nun?”

“Um, well, no, but she was hanging around outside a church when I found her?” The answer seemed to satisfy his master enough for the vampire to start feeding from the body. It had been fairly easy for Renfield to become accustomed to the blood and gore that came with being a familiar but the sound of Dracula ravenously feeding on some soon-to-be corpse never failed to make him queasy.

“Not as sour as most of the other trash you’ve brought me. Bring me more like this one Renfield.”

“Yes master.” Renfield went about his usual tasks whilst his master fed; moving the depleted corpses to the pile he’d made a few rooms down from the main chamber of the hospital and trying to keep himself occupied until he could move the fresh body. It didn’t take long for Dracula to drain her fully, but his master’s mood seemed to shift when Renfield approached.

“You smell different, Renfield.”

“I’m sorry?” He watched as Dracula rose to his feet, shifting rapidly around him and coming to a stop just in front of him after a moment. Renfield’s eyes dropped to the floor automatically as he waited for his master to speak to him.

“You met your soulmate.” It wasn’t a question, Renfield realised, but an observation. It was all he could do to nod, questioning how on Earth his master could possibly know he’d met his soulmate from his smell.

“How did you-?”

“It changes the blood of a man, meeting his soulmate. Sweetens the blood, makes it sing.” Dracula’s voice lilted slightly at the mere idea and Renfield felt his heart drop. His chance of having a normal relationship with his soulmate seemed to be going out the window with every word his master spoke.

“Oh.”

“I do hope that this won’t change your fealty, Renfield. I would hate to have to…remove any distractions that come your way.” The hand on the back of his neck makes Renfield flinch, and he listens as Dracula chuckles deeply whilst tracing his carotid artery with one of his nails. He never presses deep enough to draw blood, but the warning is heavy in the air. He hates the way he quivers under his master's touch but after almost a century of knowing just how lethal Dracula’s clawed nails are, the reaction is uncontrollable.

“I, uh, of course not, master.”

“Good.” As Dracula slowly shuffled away from him, Renfield was left with the impression that this wasn’t the end of the discussion. He doesn’t move until Dracula tells him to leave, and it’s with a sigh of relief that he realises that the conversation is indeed over for now. He walks out of the main chamber, leaning against one of the walls after a brisk walk, and slides down until he’s resting on the floor. He’s not sure how long he spends sitting on the floor trying to quiet his mind and failing. The only thing that pulls him back to reality is when he slides his hand into one of his suit pockets and feels the business card with your number on it. He pulls his phone from his back pocket, tracing his fingers over your number on the business card in his other hand. He types your number in, toying with the idea of what he should send to you. He types multiple messages before trying something simpler and more to the point.

Hello, (Y/N). It’s Robert Renfield. Would you still be up for grabbing that coffee?

He presses send before he has time to debate whether it’s a good first message to his soulmate, and he locks his phone, letting it flop down onto his chest. He lets out a sigh, and closes his eyes. He only opens them when he feels his phone vibrate, and he looks down to see if you’ve responded.

Hi Robert! I’d love to, how does 9am sound?

The fact you responded so quickly makes him smile slightly, and it almost makes him forget about his master’s threat. Almost.

That sounds perfect.

Awesome, see you outside the gym? I know a great coffee shop nearby :)

I look forward to seeing you.

He shuts his phone off after sending the final message, letting his eyes close once again. He doesn’t have a bed here, hasn’t for a long time now, and he feels the edges of sleep start to close in on him. His last thought before falling asleep is that he needs to come up with a cover story for when you inevitably ask him about everything he shared at the codependency group because there’s no way you’ll believe that he’s a vampire’s familiar.

[reds-ultrakill-brainrot]

Hello!, I've been reading your works and i love how you depict each character, anddd I have a request for V1, V2, and Gabriel!

How would they handle a reader who is a bit more rough love (i.e; light punches, gentle shoves, snarky words but an undertone of 'hey i love you'), and tend to be a little more defensive, reason for it being.. anything you want it to be :D Also if its okay, could this be a 'read as platonic or romantic'?

Pumpkin, You're Gonna Kill Me

roughhousing reader headcanons (included; V1, V2, Gabriel)

x reader content (read platonic or romantic)

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V1 - it would take them a while to recognise your actions as affectionate, and would probably result in a bruise or two on your end (you tried punching a war machine, if anything that's your fault) - half of your snarky comments are going to be met by blank stares. while this isn't particularly productive for conversations, they like fucking with you in their own way. you never know if they are offended or if your joke flopped (it's neither, they're a little shit and abuse the fact they don't have facial features) - their genuine reaction to said comments is indifference, they aren't usually the type to be spurred on by words. if you say something with especially poor timing the most they are likely to do is to turn and give you a full body 'did you actually just say that' look - sparring will most likely become a common activity. it gives you a way to express affection in a way you're used to while giving V1 a chance to work on using only as much force as necessary. no weapons are involved on their end, but you would be free to use anything besides a gun (unless you're willing to be a blood donor) - while they were never designed with conflict management in mind (at least not the kind that doesn't involve bulllets) they aren't too bad at it. they will quickly recognise that you get defensive and give you space during conflict. quality time is usually how they comfort you, and if you're feeling particularly defensive and insecure they will offer a sparring session. they would never usually rig a fight in your favour, but giving you a few more chances to hit them usually helps cheer you up - after some time of them getting used to it rough contact will be returned, with less force to account for your squishy exterior. on the odd chance they shove you too hard or use too much force their wings will droop in an apology, that or they will give you a free shot to shove them as hard as you want - while they don't care as much about your defensiveness as some others might, it will still prompt conflict at times. if your ego or insecurity is keeping you from resolving conflict they won't give you a pass. they aren't entirely immune to negative comments, if you end up crossing a line or refusing to admit and accept your mistakes they will distance themself until you apologise V2 - they would probably match your energy, if not take it as a sign you want to spar. such aggresive physical contact is endearing to them, you could hardly hurt them even if you wanted to, so feel free to go all out

- i imagine surprise roughhousing would soon become commonplace, you full on tackling them out of nowhere with a "think fast". it's all fun and games until they do it to you, expect a couple bruises after that - any half-hearted snarky comments would be met with playful glares or a shove in return. despite their—at times—staggering ego, they aren’t particularly bothered by snide remarks, serious or not - the both of you would have a very similar way of expressing affection for eachother. while others would look on with mild shock as the both of you do your best middleschool bully impersonations, the both of you understand what lines you can and cannot cross - this would, however, backfire slightly in regards to emotional vulnerability and conflict. V2 can come off as cold or insensitive at the best of times, this is only worsened when one or the both of you are upset. they aren't particularly equipped for comfort, it will take a lot of effort on both of your parts to work through this, especiallly on V2's half - on a serious and slightly less healthy note, V2 would take advantage of your defensiveness. they know how to prod at you to provoke you. while they would normally have no reason to do so, i imagine if they are particularly annoyed at you they would fall back onto purposefully provoking you - similarly, apologies of any kind are going to be rare. a lot of your conflict resolution is going to boil down to leaving eachother alone for a while, before coming around again with an "are we cool?" Gabriel - it would take him by surprise at first. he isn't used to super casual interactions with other people yet alone anything boisterous. this will probably lead to a few miscommunications — him taking a few snarky comments as genuine insults. while he would come to understand this is how you express comfortability and closeness, he probably won't mimic or play along - even when he knows you don't really mean it, snarky comments will prompt dramatic reactions. such reactions will often be followed by a pause as he realises you weren't serious. he's embarrased every time he misses the joke, but a flustered Gabriel was most likely your goal anyway - the one time he tried to copy your behaviour he accidentaly punched you with much more force than he intended. you received one big ass bruise and a myriad of apologies afterwards - he will eventually become used to your behaviour - well, most of it. i doubt he'd ever get entirely used to that type of physical contact (light or not); he will always jump slightly if you shove or lightly punch him. he isn't scared or angered by any means, merely confused and slightly annoyed. he might understand your reasoning, but it just isn't how he acts, and as such there is always a level of disconnect - he would inevitably clash with your defensive reactions. he has a strong sense of justice and gets especially angered by lying in any form - white lies included. if you don't own up to your faults or mistakes he will be blunt about his disapproval. he won't let you get away with trying to save your ego, he'll expect you to fully apologise for any disrespectful behaviour, wether you see it as disrespectful or not - unlike the others he will eventually prompt you to explain why you act defensive. he wants to know it isn't prompted by anything he is doing. he wants you to feel comfortable with him, both physically and emotionally. he's happy to help you work on it, but most of the effort will still need to be on your end

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thank you very much for the request. as usual requests are always open - i'm thinking i might open up slots for short stories as well - but in the meantime i will take headcanons and music matches. thanks for reading

[yourlocaltreesimp]

Wild: I'm sorry, Y/N.

Y/N: No, don't apologize. I like taking care of you.

۵♡۵

Small TW: Depictions of injury, Hurt/comfort

It wasn’t often the chain was split. It went against the whole idea of them being together- safety, familiarity. And especially since you joined, they made careful surety that no one was left behind. But things don’t always go as you hope. The onslaught of arrows from the tree line was unexpected, but manageable. They were haphazardly shot from poor quality bows, their shots missing most. Most. You were busy trying to not have your skull split open that the arrows digging into the mud weren’t concerning to your mind. But in a moment of panic -of sheer horror that he might loose one more friend- Wild sprinted to get you out of the way, his side slamming into yours as he slid on the mud. The arrow ripping through his flesh occupied more of your mind than the monsters that ambushed the battlefield. And in your panic, you ran. All you could see was that deep, irony red staining the champion’s tunic, the rain letting his blood sleep into the fabric. His breathing was ragged has you ran, another arrow embedded between his ribs.

You didn’t care where you were running towards, how fast you ran or how the cries of battle faded into obscurity. You just kept running.

“y/n” You heard Wild whisper weakly behind you as you hastily made your way through the thick woods. Your clothes were soaked through as the storm grew overhead.

“y/n” He weakly pleaded with you to slow, to calm your racing heart. He didn’t need to see your face to know you were blaming yourself, that you were just as deep within your own mind as he had been. He wrapped his second arm around you as best he could, slowing you to a walk. The surrounding forest was unfamiliar. You turned to face him, but we’re not met with a stern stare. Instead, his eyes were soft, eyebrows creased in concern. “I-“ He coughs, letting go of you to cover his mouth as he sputters “I saw a cave back there- We should stay there until the group finds us” His voice, though weak and a little shaky, was stronger than you’d thought it’d have been. You let him lead you through the bushes and trees to a small gap in the rock face. He practically collapsed as soo as you stopped moving, laying on the ground with strained breathing. Your hands shook as you made the fire as he taught you a week before, the cold taking to your skin. You were scared, you’d admit. But your mind stilled when you’ll saw him in pain, someone you knew to be so strong, writhing. Yes, you were scared, but you felt as if that was beyond you. Between what you and Wild had, you reckoned you didn’t have much to go off. A few rolls of bandages, a canteen of clean enough water and a single red potion. Not ideal, but doable. You crouched at his side, carefully sitting him against the wall of the cave and close enough to the fire to warm. You waited until the colour returned to his face before you made any attempt at disturbing him.

“Wild?” His eyes were fixed to the wall, blank in whatever thoughts drifted through his mind. None of which were good. How could he have been so careless? His breathing shuttered, but aside from that, he was totally, utterly still. He should’ve known better.

He should’ve been better, for you.

“Link?” His eyes dart to yours quickly, widening. He tries to shuffle back into the wall, to no avail. He leans into the wall after recognising where he is, that he’s safe. “I have to get the arrows out, is that ok?” You do t get a response, so you carefully move closer, sitting in front of him so he can see your hands. They pity you. They think you’re weak. You see him shutter. You can only hope it’s from the chill. You snap the shaft of each arrow as close to the head as you can, trying your hardest to avoid ripping the skin. He hardly flinches, and your heart aches slightly. How common was this? How often did he do this alone? You place the broken wood next to you, assessing what must be done next. “Do you mind if I take look at your wounds?” You whisper so carefully, a tone he’s never been regarded with. A tone he doesn’t deserve. He’s supposed to be the hero. He’s supposed to make things better. He peels his wet clothes from his body, retaining the same panicked blankness in his eyes. He refuses to look at you as he does so. Why see your judgement? His torso is covered in many faded scars of different lengths, arrow wounds, thin slashes, old scars, new lines, and the large burn of a guardian laser, wrapping around his torso like lightning. It ls so oddly beautiful you can’t help but stare for a moment. They’re staring. Why wouldn’t they when he looks like this? You move your hands to grip the arrow head in his shoulder firmly. “Breathe in for me” He does so, a shuddering inhale. And as he slowly releases the air from his lungs, you rip it out. He hisses, flinching. You pour some water on it and wrap it in a bandage to stop the bleeding. You stop yourself from kissing it when you’re finished. You grip the arrow in his side and he tenses immediately. “Just breathe, I’ve got you” He follows your instructions, you let him draw as many breaths as he needs before the muscles around the arrowhead relax. You tug it out and follow the same process, cleaning the wound with what little you have before wrapping it up. You hand him the red potion, disregarding the captivated stare he gives you.

“I- I’m so sorry.” His voice is stronger than it was, the same you remember it being. You’re so caught in him speaking, you hardly miss the words.

“For what?” The confusion in your tone is clear and his bitter self hatred bleeds into his words before he can stop himself.

“For having to take care of me. I’m supposed to be better than this. How am I supposed to be a hero if I can’t take a few arrows. It’s pathetic. I’m-“

“Link” You cut his ramble short. He sighs, sinking further back into the rock. “If the hero cant be cared for, then I don’t need you to be. I just want you safe.” Your words are some he wished he could’ve heard earlier, from anyone. But hearing them from you, he thinks, is even more of a blessing. You sit next to him, leaning against his shoulder. “And besides, I like taking care of you anyway. After what I know you’ve been through? You deserve to be cared for every now and then” You let your eyes close, enjoying the warmth of the fire in front of you. The silence between you is calm, the fire pops and the rain still pelts the ground outside, but your content not speaking.

“Really?” His voice is quiet and fragile, the murmur of someone finding a hope long snuffed out

“Really.”

[pretzel-box]

Good Morning Sunshine Chapter 1 snippet [Leon x Neighbour!reader series]

Tags: Female Reader! | Stangers to Lovers | Slowburn | Neighbour AU x Wrong Number AU | Strong language, fluff, mention of trauma late on. Tags will get updated. Slightly Mean Leon!

PROLOGUE here!

TAGLIST: @woofwoofwolf @galactict3a

The days passed, time really flies by when you are busy unboxing stuff and looking at low-quality job ads that could have been designed by a child. There was nothing that spiked your interest yet and it frustrated you. The old laptop that Claire gave you got put aside and you relaxed into the couch cushions, just staring at the ceiling lost in thoughts.

Maybe it was worth a thought to sell a kidney or an eye, there is no doubt that you would look great with an eye patch. How iconic would it be to start being a modern pirate? The ideas in your mind casted a smile onto your lips and you shook your head at your own silliness.

The sound of your phone pulled you quickly out of your daydreams and the bright name of your new message friend flashed up. Leon. Ada’s pseudo lover with relationship issues. You actually didn’t know what relationship this guy had with the woman called Ada, but based on the first impression it was a troubled relationship.

You haven't heard of Leon since that day, thinking that he actually deleted the conversation and moved on from his mistake.

“Hey Claire, can I ask you something??” For a short second you forgot that you’re pretending to be Claire. The actual guy that you should dump for Claire was already taken care of. It was a very disgusting guy that doesn’t understand the word boundaries.

“‘Sup Mr.I’m Sorry.” Fake Claire and Leon are back in contact it seems. “Whatcha need?" Love advice? Buy her roses but not the cheap ones ofc.”

Leon kept typing for some time, then he stopped only to start writing again a few minutes later. You laughed to yourself, this guy reminds you of elderly people who get their first phone.

“God no-” The man needed half an eternity for this short message. Maybe you should teach this poor soul the magic of text to speech. He started to write again and you lowkey prepared yourself to stand up and make some food in the meantime but his next message popped up on the screen quickly. There’s no reason to lie, having him text you was kinda exciting. There was no hint if this is a normal American citizen or a puppy eating monster, perhaps even both. “How do you usually apologize to someone?”

Still the same topic probably, the mysterious lady named Ada didn’t forgive him yet but left him in distress. You could either play his savior and write something useful or rely on your laziness to leave him on read. It wasn’t really your business after all and it was only right to assume that Leon was a grown man with the ability to fix his own problems.

“Idk ask google man” Most useful help, you should really give yourself a proud pat on the shoulder. At least this would be Claire's reaction if it wasn’t for the fact that she’s at work. The woman would laugh her heart out and pat your shoulder in amusement.

Truth to be told, you didn’t tell Claire about Leon. There was no reason to since you thought it was a one time thing. She would definitely nudge you to get to know Leon better, ask him about his hobbies, his favorite food and most importantly. “Are you single?”

The color left your face in an instant as you accidentally sent him such a message. You didn’t even know why you typed out your thoughts with the phone in hand, and even pressed the send button with an absent mind. Maybe the demonic spirit of Claire possessed you for a second. This would be an amazing moment to throw away the phone, move out and leave the country. Change your name. Wait, he doesn’t know your real name so you don’t need a new personal ID but leaving the country was a need now. Panic and embarrassment took over your mind.

“Why?” His message was simple and of course he would be curious. Your question came up randomly without context so there was no way he wouldn’t just accept that.

Now it was now or never. You had to fix this somehow. “Is Ada not your girlfriend?” This was either the best or the worst reply you could have given this man. Leon didn’t reply after that.

You only let out a sigh and stood up from the comfort of the couch, a sudden pain struck inside your back. This is definitely the aftermath of being in a bad position for a long time. The comfortable couch is to blame.

“Not really, we're business associates or something similar I guess.” You huff at his reply. You were wrong about the whole psycho lover thing or it's some korean drama version of a secret office affair. You don't know a single thing about Leon.

You use the moment where he types his next message to get some cheap food delivery. Why leave the house, when the food can come to you? Your body moved too much today after all that unboxing and there's no way you go down the endless staircase for a mere pizza or a sad noodle box. But you make sure to give the poor delivery guy a tip for getting up all the stairs to reach Claire's apartment.

“Yo, Leon. Pizza or noodles?” You pray he won't choose pizza and tell you to add pineapples.

“Personally more of a pizza person.” The guy actually gave a good answer. You finished ordering a big pizza with your favorite toppings. You're hungry after all and when there's something left then Claire can have it. Sharing is caring.

“Foods arriving in 30 minutes.” Leon only gave you a thumbs up for that message. At least he knows how to use emojis.

The rest of the time that you waited for your food got spend with watching some more TV and looking at more job ads. You were about to call it a day till a message popped up.

“Delivery is downstairs in the ground floor.” Well, someone doesn't deserve a tip after all. You let out a sigh and put on your shoes, apparently fate wants you to go down the staircase and it's unavoidable. You quickly sprinted downstairs or at least tried since your stamina quit halfways and when you finally reached the ground floor you needed a minute. The delivery guy hands you your lukewarm pizza, that has probably seen better days, and disappears angrily since there wasn't a tip.

From now on it only could get better, have some pizza once you are upstairs, watch a movie and maybe have a girls night with Claire when she's not out with a guy she picked up. A grin appears on your face as you make your way upstairs. Maybe Leon has time and you two could talk more? The thoughts occupied your brain and you missed the tall handsome man that you ran into. The pizza box you previously held fell down on the ground and your eyes widened. Your precious food! “Can't you see where you're going?” A grumpy voice catched your attention and you snapped your gaze back up. If it wasn’t for his rude first impression then you would crush on him for his appearance alone. He had a navy blue button up that hugged his chest nicely and the black leather jacket added a certain touch. The way his blonde hair frames his face was breathtaking and his eyes are even more a kind of an artw- “Earth to stranger, you're blocking the way.” The man snaps his fine looking hands in your face. Time to stop your teenage crush. “Excuse you, you can ask nicely.” He certainly hit not only your heart with his good looks but also your nerves with his attitude. “Fine princess, move out of the way.” He pushes you out of the way, stepping onto your pizza box and rushing down the staircase. The guy must have been in a hurry.

[harmonity-vibes]

Hello, do you receive requests?, if you do, would you write a close friend of your father's sierra six x reader smut and age difference fiction, you would make me very happy bro 🥺

ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴇꜱᴛ ᴍᴇ

A/N: Hello Dear, You are my very first request. I hope this fic can make you happy. I apologize again for the poor quality and enjoy! I apologize again for the wait. English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistakes. Disclaimers & Copyright - MINORS DNI ! 18 ONLY. I know I apologize a lot. T-T

Parings - Sierra Six x Reader

Warning - non-con/dub-con, swearing, explicit smut, , riding, age gap, teasing, dom!Sierra Six. In this fic, the reader is of legal age.

Summary : Having a secret relationship with Six is a dream, except when you test his limits in front of your father. Six will always have a way of getting back at you…

You've never been so happy in your life, because Six Court was about to return from a six-month mission. Which meant he'd be coming to see you and, incidentally, your father. But it also meant that you'd be able to make up for all the time you'd spent alone with him.

You were the only one who knew what he really did, even though your father was his best friend, which wasn't surprising. He worked for the CIA and went abroad for months at a time to hunt down and kill targets. He couldn't afford to divulge information to anyone, but you were the exception. Court would tell you how and why he was doing it.

What you both loved and hated about him was his ability to keep his cool under all circumstances. Even in front of your father, he kept his cool. It was as if all your actions didn't affect him, but you knew it was only a matter of time before they did.

Your father had planned a little barbecue and some time at the pool to celebrate Court's return. Just in time, you had bought yourself a new bathing suit. This bikini barely covered your sensitive parts and you hoped Court would notice.

You'd had a crush on Court since you were 18. Sure, he was 35 at the time, but you didn't really care. You just wanted him to fuck you on every piece of furniture in the house, the thought of which made you wet every time you saw him. Then one day, you started teasing him a lot more than usual, and the next thing you knew, you were on his lap counting the number of spankings he gave you.

You wanted to be a bad girl and the barbecue gave you ample opportunity to be one. Your mouth watered just imagining his reaction. This guy could make women salivate without even knowing it, and like the lucky whore you are, you were going to take advantage of it.

You were helping your mother prepare the kebabs when suddenly two voices were heard. You recognized the second voice instantly: it was Court's. Your Court. Your Court. You were so excited to see him that your mother had to ask you to stop fidgeting.

"The girls are already getting to work. " "At least we're doing something!" Your mother announced to your father. "Oh yes sorry, excuse me darling, I was chatting with Six of the work colleagues."

While your parents were chatting, Court had approached you and bent down to whisper something in your ear.

"I missed you princess."

Then he left as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn't been abroad for six months. He knew that his deep, sensual voice could make you soft, and he also knew that he was the only one who could make you that way. It annoyed you how easy it was for him to make you manageable. But he wasn't the only one who knew how to tease, two can play this game and you knew how to play it.

You'd only just realized it, but Six had changed physically in the last six months. He had become more massive and slightly taller. His hair was back to its usual brown except for the points, which remained blonde. You liked this new style, maybe you could talk to him about it later.

You were all seated on the terrace tables. Your parents opposite and Court next to you, your knees almost knocking. He had his hand on your thigh and squeezed gently, giving you a slight shiver. But you don't let that little touch, slight though it may be, distract you from your plan for revenge.

"So, Six, how did your roadtrip go?" "Well, listen, Franck, I met a lot of people, but it was short-lived." "Really? You weren't the one who scared them off, were you? Teases my father.

If you only knew, Dad, Court isn't really what you think…

You don't know why, but at that moment, you'd imagined Court's big hand on your neck as he fucked you on the floor or your bed. You almost salivate just imagining it. But a tight hand on my thigh snapped you out of your thoughts and shifted my gaze to your lover.

Court was concentrating on the subject under discussion, but he had a slight smirk on his face, he knew what you were thinking, which made you blush. However, you wanted to wipe the smirk off his face, so you put your hand on your upper thigh and stroked. You slowly moved up to his crotch and to surprise him, you grabbed his dick with the same smile on your face.

You got the reaction you wanted, his smile disappearing leaving only a tense face and huge veins all down his neck. If your parents weren't concentrating on their meal, they'd have noticed something was wrong. So you carried on, massaging that big lump between his legs.

To be honest, it excited you to do it right in front of your parents when they didn't know anything about it. It gave you a rush of adrenaline, enough to get your hand into his jeans and underwear. You knew he was big, but erect was another level. You were already wet, but the wet stain on your shorts intensified-if you kept going, you'd end up flooding your chair.

Some days, his impassive side couldn't really work, and this was one of them. He glanced at you, but it was really a warning of what could happen if you continued to play with fire. You weren't going to hide it, you loved playing with fire, even if it burned you. You were going to enjoy it before Six made you regret it.

You'd felt his pre-ejaculatory fluid on your fingers, which meant you were close to making him come. But the hand that had been on your thigh came to rest on yours and withdrew it. He certainly wanted to cum in front of your parents.

Suddenly, you felt his calloused fingers in your tight, wet hole. His moan was small, but you could hear it. That little moan he makes when he loses himself in you or when he can barely hold back his wild side. It takes all his willpower not to grab you off the table and make wild love to you.

You could barely concentrate on your movements with Court's fingers deep inside you. Nevertheless, you were lucid enough to press a little harder on his tip to make him let out another moan.

"You two gonna be all right? You're all red." "Yes, all right Mom, it's because of the sun." "All right, Rachel, yes right, it's the sun. "He was taking a big gulp of his drink to avoid eye contact with you or your father. That's when you rubbed his hot tip slit with your thumb.

He threw back all the water from his mouth and gave you a dark look full of promise. He stood up and gave your parents an excuse that you had to help him with something. He subtly took your hand to follow him. Your parents didn't see anything suspicious, so they agreed and let you go.

On the way to your room, you could feel his strong grip on your hand and you knew what that meant. He was really going to make you regret your actions. You barely had time to cross the bedroom door before he had you pinned against the wall next to it. His big, strong arms were around you. You were trapped against the wall, his body hot and giant.

"Did you think I was going to cum in front of your parents, brat?" His gaze was calculating and cold, you could feel butterflies in your lower stomach. He lifted you off the ground with one arm and you crossed your legs over his waist. You didn't pay attention, but his tight t-shirt was already on the floor and the buttons on his jeans were unhooking.

"I need you to stay quiet, understand? His hard command came straight to your pussy. "Yes sir." "Good girl."

He thrust into you without the slightest preparation, spreading your vagina wider. He quickly put his hand over your mouth to stop any sound coming out. You had to be careful with your parents down there. He gave you punishing strokes and accelerated with each thrust. You were overwhelmed by so many feelings and seeing Court as destroyed as you were could make you instantly.

Court wasn't being nice to you. His hands tightened their grip on your buttocks, which would surely bruise you the next day. But you loved that wild, ravaging Six. He'd fuck you senseless against the wall, as if it were the last time he'd ever make love to you.

"Count yourself lucky that I'm fucking you, because with your bullshit, I could have kept you from cumming for weeks." He was completely fucked up and irritated. He took deep breaths, but still continued his erratic thrusts.

"It's been so long, sweetheart," it came out almost in a pleading tone. You needed him so much, you'd forgotten manners. "Where are your manners, little girl?" "Excuse me sir, please, may I cum?" "Mmm… No, you can't yet. I'm not done with you baby girl."

So there you have it, I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry if it wasn't what you wanted, but I tried to write something about it. I'll apologize if it sucked. In-any-case left likes and comments, that would help me a lot. See you soon! Love, Harmonity

[wildemaven]

One Last Try

Pairing: Dave York x F!Reader

W/C: 1829

Warnings: 18+; Mentions of food and alcohol, heartbrake, low self worth, angst

A/N: This was written for @wildemaven-prompts Week 4 prompt. I’ve been wanting to write for Dave and this seemed like a good way to start. I was going to do fluff but for the sake of anti-valentines it’s all angst baby!! Hopefully it reads well cause I tried to bust this out today to focus on some other things this next week. Not beta’d as usual!

Masterlist

“Can I bring you two the dessert menu? We have some Sweetheart Valentine’s Day Specials.”

The poor waiter is just doing his job, but he can see the the pained look in your eyes as he asks, knowing a list of sweet indulgences is the last thing you want to subject yourself to this evening.

You look at the man across from you, absorbed in yet another phone call— fifth one since your date started. He’s kicked back in his seat, head nodding in between every other sentence that he directs into the one thing he promised he would leave on silent— wishful thinking on your part.

“Dave? Did you want to order—“ You begin to ask.

He slightly pulls the phone away, hand coming up to cup the receiver as he looks between you and the waiter. “Babe, I’m on an important phone call. Just let her order whatever she wants.” He says as he waves a finger around the menu items then dives back into his conversation, apologizing for the interruption.

It takes everything in you to not break on the spot. The ache in your chest settling in for the evening, it’s nagging weight weaving through your rib cage as it plunges deep into your soul.

“I think we’re good. If you could bring the check that would be great.” Trying your best to blink away the tears threatening to break.

The sympathetic waiter can see you’re struggling to maintain your composure and agrees to bring back the check swiftly.

The pain continues to fester as the minutes tick by. You knew this night would go this way and yet you still hoped for a better outcome— you blame yourself for expecting a semi romantic dinner.

*

Dave was charming from the get go, set up by a close friend who said he was a great guy and had all the qualities you looked for in a partner.

You had fallen for him almost instantly and really enjoyed his company.

He was a great dad to his two girls and had a great relationship with their mother as well— something you don’t see often.

You admired his work ethic as well as his dedication to making an effort for his personal life, you included.

It’s been close to a year since you started dating and you wish you could say things were still as good as they were in the beginning.

You felt less and less like a priority in his life and more of a responsibility to tend to.

You tried to be understanding with how busy he was with his job, you being career oriented yourself. As time went on, plans and dates were brush off for after hour meetings and trips that took away for weeks at a time. Your actual time spent together was few and far between.

Your dreams of a life with a Dave slowly became dismal and you feared the worst was coming, it was just a matter of time before your heart was to be broken yet again by a failed relationship.

But when Dave arranged a date for you both on Valentine’s Day, you saw it as a sign to reconnect and get back those feelings you once shared with him.

And it started that way. You both were so wrapped up in each others company, as you enjoyed your appetizers and drinks. The conversation was light, but it flowed with ease as you caught up on each other. The butterflies you once felt slowly beginning to flutter about within.

You couldn’t help but admire how handsome he was, the candle lighting accentuated his beautiful face and his smile was something you’d missed being on the receiving end of.

His little touches were electric and fueled your yearning for more of him— each brush of his fingers against yours and the soft rub of his foot against your bare calf, it was hard to contain the burning sensation that was building inside of you.

It was when you were mid conversation, sharing about a possible promotion at work, you were interrupted by the incessant buzzing coming from Dave’s jacket. You stared at him blankly for a moment but he seemed to act like he hadn’t heard it.

“Anyways, so my boss said if the numbers pan out over the next quarter then he would like to see about—“

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

“Just one second Honey, it’s probably just the office. I’ll be quick.” His words drifted over the table as he pulled his phone from his pocket and answered in his stern but professional tone. “York speaking.”

You instantly sulked back into your chair, it was only the beginning of the date and he’d already broke the one request you’d asked of him— no work calls.

“Sorry about that, they needed to get my approval on some things.”

“It’s okay. I’m sure it was important.” You forced a smile at him, masking the hurt that was beginning to overwhelm you.

You were finishing your glass of wine as the waiter brought out the main dishes when Dave’s phone began to vibrate again. He didn’t even bother to ask you if he could take it this time, instantly answering it without a thought.

You sat in silence as you picked at your food, finding your appetite had left at some point since his second phone call. The waiter pouring you another glass of wine, you didn’t even bothering to tell him no.

“Well, I want those reports on my desk by morning, I don’t care if you have to stay all night. Talk to you tomorrow.” He ends the call and places the phone down on the table this time, ready for the next round of calls at a moments notice.

“Sorry about that Babe. Seems they can’t handle things with out something getting fucked up along the way.” He apologizes as begins to slice into his now cold steak.

“Hmm.” Is all you can seem to muster in response, as you gnaw at your lips to avoid the look of disappointment that’s settling into your features.

“Everything alright? You seem awfully quiet tonight.”

“I’m fine Dave. Perfectly fine.” Another forced smile as you take another sip of your drink.

Before he’s even managed to finish his plate he’s already answered his phone three more times, this last call being the longest of them.

You can’t help but look around the restaurant to see each table filled with so much love and happiness. So many couples so engrossed with each other and so much joy written plainly on their faces. It feels like to much and you need to get as far away from this place as you can.

*

The waiter brings the check and it goes unnoticed by Dave, you’re not surprised at this point.

You grab your credit card from your clutch and place it in the guest check holder then hand it to the waiter who’s been waiting patiently.

You finish off your glass of wine by the time he comes back with the receipt for you to sign, which had given you enough time to muster up enough courage to do what you’re about to do.

Dave still consumed by whom ever is on the other line doesn’t see you grab for your bag as you scoot your chair back to stand. Letting your frame adjust to the heels you wore and smoothing out the silk shift dress draped over your body, you give him one last chance to acknowledge you— unfortunately it doesn’t happen.

*

You’d made your way back to your townhouse after leaving Dave at the restaurant, eager to wash the disappointment off of you and relax the rest of the evening.

Takeout called into your favorite pizza spot, a chilled bottle of sparkling wine uncorked and poured into a fluted glass as you shed your heels and dress waiting for your tub to fill.

You catch your reflection in the mirror, your eyes slightly puffy from the tears you finally let fall as you were leaving the restaurant, the sea of eyes watching as you made your way out the front door.

You didn’t want to believe that tonight was the beginning of the end when you had made your way to meet Dave earlier. There was that small sliver of hope you were holding tight to, that maybe he would see how much you were fighting for this relationship and how much you loved him.

But ultimately you already knew deep down that you would be leaving alone and that you were once again not a priority anymore.

*

Some angsty song blares through your phone sitting on the bathroom counter, it’s hitting you hard as you sink into the warm bubbles, the water already helping ease the pain surging through you.

The box of pizza within reach as you get lost in your head, reminiscing over the past year and preparing yourself for the heartbreak you will endure for the weeks to come.

The ringing of your phone jolts you from your thoughts, you already know who it is as let it go to voicemail.

You’ve already made up your mind and know the minute you hear his voice, you’d cave and believe him when he says he’ll try harder to be present— you know this because he’s said it only a few short months ago and you believed him then.

Your sudsy hand reaches for your phone, deciding to subject yourself to whatever he’s decided to say.

“Babe… I-I’m so fucking sorry. I got so caught up in work, I-I didn’t see the how it was affecting us— you. I know nothing I say right now is going to make you see how sorry I am for not seeing the pain I’ve caused you. I just want to let you know that I love you and I’m hoping you can forgive me, again. Please let me know you’re okay. Bye”

You’re not sure you’ll ever get use to this feeling. It’s overwhelming and empty at the same time.

You listen to his message a few more times once you’ve dried yourself off and settled into bed, your sheets enveloping your tired body wishing the warmth from Dave’s was surrounding you. His voice is laced with guilt and worry, replaying it again a few more times, knowing it’s the last time you’ll hearing it for awhile.

You can’t bare talking to him right now but manage to find the courage to send a text to before you drift off to sleep.

-Hey. I’m home and I’m safe. I appreciate your apology, I just need to be by myself right now. I don’t know what this means for us going forward but I can’t keep going like this anymore. Maybe we can take some time apart and see if us together is truly what we want and go from there. I love you Dave. We’ll talk soon. -

Alternate Endings

[haggishlyhagging]

Several years ago, I taught an upper-level extension course in a suburban high school. The students were mostly high school teachers, required by their school district to earn periodic graduate credit as a condition of continuing employment. None of the students was very young: Most were in their forties and fifties. Women outnumbered men by about two to one. The women, who tended on the average to be somewhat better students than the men, displayed far less confidence in their ability to master the material. I found this surprising, since the female teachers, authorities in their own classrooms, did the same work as the male teachers, had comparable seniority, similar educational credentials, and, I assume, pay equity. The school in which both men and women taught had an excellent reputation. There is nothing unique about the classroom I am about to describe: I have observed in other classrooms what I observed there. I select this particular class as an example because male and female students were mature and well-matched professionally and because their relationships seemed to be free of the sexual tensions and courtship games that sometimes complicate the relationships of younger men and women.

Though women were in the majority, they were noticeably quieter in class discussion than the men. The men engaged freely in classroom exchanges and seemed quite confident—in view of the quality of some of their remarks, over-confident. Women who did enter discussion spoke what linguists call "women's language": Their speech was marked by hesitations and false starts; they tended to introduce their comments with self-denigrating expressions (“You may think that this is a stupid question, but . . . “); they often used a questioning intonation which in effect turned a simple declarative sentence into a request for help or for affirmation from without; they used "lag" questions which had the same effect (“Camus's theme in The Myth of Sisyphus is the absurdity of human existence, isn't it?”) and excessive qualifiers (“Isn't it true that sometimes, maybe . . . “). This style of speaking, whatever its substance, communicates to listeners the speaker's lack of confidence in what she is saying, and this in turn damages her credibility.

In addition to their style of speech, I was struck by the way many female students behaved as they handed me their papers. They would offer heartfelt apologies and copious expressions of regret for the poor quality of their work—work which turned out, most of the time, to be quite good. While apologizing, a student would often press the edges of her manuscript together so as to make it literally smaller, holding the paper uncertainly somewhere in the air as if unsure whether she wanted to relinquish it at all. Typically, she would deliver the apology with head bowed, chest hollowed, and shoulders hunched slightly forward. The male students would stride over to the desk and put down their papers without comment.

Now every female student did not behave in this way all of the time. Nor is this all that the women communicated. To the casual observer, the atmosphere in the classroom was both relaxed and stimulating: Both men and women took an evident interest in the material and managed a lively exchange of ideas. But, like an organ-point that sounded faintly but persistently all term, something else was detectable too: It became clear to me that many women students were ashamed of their written work and ashamed to express their ideas in a straightforward and open manner. Indeed, it would not be unusual for a student just to say, "I'm really ashamed of this paper," while handing it to me. I have no doubt that these utterances were accurate reports of feeling. At the same time, I suspect that they were rituals of self-shaming undertaken in order to bear more easily a shaming they anticipated from me: An ordeal is often easier to endure if we can choose its time and place. These apologies served also to underscore the students' desire to do well in the course, hence, to get into my good books and, by arousing pity in me for such evident emotional distress, to soften my judgment of their work. Behind a facade of friendliness and informality, two very different dramas of relationship to the teacher were being enacted: The men regarded me as a rival or as an upstart who needed to prove herself; the women, as potentially a very punitive figure who needed to be placated and manipulated.

-Sandra Lee Bartky, Femininity and Domination: Studies in the Phenomenology of Oppression