#ended the little worm even before he threatened him

[andy-clutterbuck]

"𝘓𝘰𝘰𝘬, 𝘐'𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘧𝘢𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘶𝘯𝘴. 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘪𝘵 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧. 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘲𝘶𝘰𝘳? 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 '𝘤𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘭, 𝘚𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘳. 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘦𝘢𝘬…..𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘴. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘶𝘴."

𝟕𝐱𝟎𝟒 | 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。APOLOGIES — SHIDOU RYUSEI.

✩ — contents ⋮ fluff, gn! reader, established relationship, post argument make-up, annoying shidou as always, reposting bc it got marked w a label the first time even tho it’s sfw

dating shidou is not easy, it takes maturity and patience and the will of god’s strongest soldier. in fact, most of the time, dating shidou means you’re constantly drifting in and out of being mad at him—which, right now, you’re quite mad.

“shidou ryusei, it is one am,” you glare, opening your door and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. he has a wolfish grin on his face—it’s cocky, and it widens as he stares you up and down in your little batman pajama pants. normally, you wouldn’t answer the door for someone you’re mad at, boyfriend or not, but shidou makes it hard to ignore with his incessant knocking.

you value your sleep—and more importantly, you value not being kicked from your apartment for noise complaints.

“aw, not the full government name,” he says slyly, and it only makes your blood pressure rise even more as you practically feel a vein pop.

“ryusei,” you warn. but he doesn’t pay attention, just as you expect. instead, he whistles lowly.

“i like the uniform. ‘s cute,” he cackles, eyeing the way your pants are hung a little lower on your hips from tossing around in bed, exposing a bit of skin that he drinks in shamelessly.

“thanks,” you say dryly, “they’re fuzzy and they were half off. now why are you here?”

“just visiting,” he shrugs.

“at one am?”

“it’s twelve fifty-two,” he corrects like he lives to defy you in every corner. and you bet he loves it—in fact, you know he’s positively enthused by the way your lips curl into a scowl and your eyes glare at him so fiercely. he stares down at the way your hips slant as your cross your arms, and he chuckles (which you think is almost passable as a giggle at the sheer giddiness.)

only shidou ryusei would be giddy from turning you halfway near homicidal, and only he would find the murderous glint in your eyes cute, wholesome.

“what do you want,” you say bluntly. he takes a step forward, and no matter how mad you are, you can’t help but stand painfully still as he leans closer, trying your damn hardest not to lean in when his hot breath fans over your face as he stares at you.

“your bed would be nice,” he hums, “preferably with you in it.”

he’s insufferable. everything he does and says makes you want to chuck bricks at his head and hope it fixes the loose wires he seems to have. but you don’t even get to finish saying, “fuck off, ryu—” before he cuts in.

“c’mon, don’t make me find a way in myself,” he curls his lips wickedly, like he’s got you in checkmate, like the cards have been in his favor all along as you play the game he’s written. but this time is different—this time, you’re determined not to let shidou take advantage of your weak heart through his rough and tough charms.

this time, you have a point to prove.

“i’m going to call the cops on you,” you threaten, “tell them i’m being harassed by a pink-haired freak.”

“i wouldn’t mind getting married in jail,” he grins, and you can practically make out the hearts in his eyes as he looks at you. it makes you want to slam the door in his face and go right back to bed. but that would only mean he’d go back to pounding on your door and singing your name, and you’re pretty sure you’re one more instance away from your neighbors collectively petitioning your eviction.

“i don’t want to marry you,” you hiss.

“don’t be like that,” he reaches to poke your cheek, “being inmates would be fun. we could give the officers a show as we fuck—”

“ryusei,” you hiss.

arguing with shidou always ends like this. he worms his way in and knocks down your walls without ever saying i’m sorry. he eases his way back into your heart with wide grins and cheeky comments and that charm of his that really shouldn’t be as endearing as it is. he never admits he’s wrong—but the way he tries harder the next time, makes sure he does it right, makes sure he’s better just for you, you know he cares. he never resolves things in the way you would consider the standard method of patching up after those unavoidable couple fights—but this time you decide it’s different. 

this time your feelings are hurt—really hurt. the kind of hurt that makes you wonder if you’re annoying. or if you talk a lot. or if he even wants to be around you. or that maybe you tire him out. or that the sound of your voice is grating. or that you overstep boundaries. 

this time there is no brushing the cracked shards of your heart under the rug and acting like he can kiss the pieces back together. this time you want to hear it from him—and if you have to stand at your door at ungodly hours of the morning and milk it out of him…well, you’re inclined to do that. 

“c’mon, babe. are you gonna keep me out here all night? lemme in—”

“you’re not coming in until you apologize,” you say bluntly. he groans, throws his head back, and slaps his hands over his face as he grumbles into his palms. 

“god, you’re killin’ me here. seriously, you know i didn’t mean it—”

“‘for fuck’s sake, i’m not your damn kid’,” you mock his voice from the other night, reminding him of his own words like he’s forgotten. he only stares at you with pursed lips and a blank face, but that doesn’t stop you, however, as you scowl at him and continue, “i don’t know. you seemed to really mean it when you said that.”

“i was just tired, you know that—”

“i was just trying to look out for you,” you don’t even seem like you’re listening to him anymore, poking a finger at his chest accusingly as he lets you, “i watch you sleep at unreasonable hours only to wake up before the sun itself—”

“yeah, and i told you i’d work on that—”

“and then i ask you, have you eaten today? and you know what you tell me? yeah, i had a protein shake this morning—”

“okay, and that was like one time—”

“and then i hear that you get into a fight, and lo and behold, you show up to my place with a bloody nose and cracked knuckles—”

“but you should’ve seen the other guy—”

“and then i come over to your apartment, and your laundry isn’t done, your dishes aren’t washed, and you have eighty million socks on the floor,” you start to put a finger up for everything you list, making him fiercely fight back a chuckle that he knows would seal his death wish, “and all i try to do is take care of you so that you can be healthy and play your best and what do you do? yell at me and tell me it’s not my responsibility to—”

you’re cut off by lips pressing onto yours harshly, the rough feeling of a calloused hand cupping your cheeks and bringing you closer. and maybe if you had a bit more self-respect, you would shove away the rude, ungrateful, irritating, tacky-haired douchebag of a boyfriend that stands in front of you, but you simply choose to lose all dignity when it counts most. you choose to give in, melt into his touch, lean closer and fist his shirt as your lips press back just as firm. 

and when he gently pushes you back, you let him. you even let him step into your apartment and spin you around, shutting the door and pressing your back against the cool surface. his body cages you so that there’s no room for escape—not that you think you could even run from him now that he’s let himself in, anyway. but with one more peck to your lips, he pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours as he clicks his teeth and sighs. 

“fine, i’m fuckin’ sorry. ‘s that what you wanted to hear?”

“not if you’re only saying it to make me un-mad,” you say stubbornly.

he clicks his teeth again, shoots you a look of irritation that you return tenfold. “‘m sayin’ it ‘cus i want to, dumbass. you think i’d say that shit just to say it?”

“i don’t know, you’re rude,” you shrug, not meeting his eyes. he rolls his eyes before he leans in and kisses your cheek, then the other, then the tip of your nose, then just over your brow, then your eyelid—and when he sees the beginnings of a smile crack on your lips, he nibbles on your cheek and pulls a soft giggle from you against your will. 

“said i was fuckin’ sorry, stop being stubborn.”

“don’t yell at me again,” you huff, “and fix your sleep schedule.”

“okay.”

“and eat proper meals.”

“fine.”

“and maybe clean up.”

“kay, i’ll try. happy?”

“and stop getting into fights—”

“let’s set realistic expectations, here,” he cuts you off, earning a huff from you. but you seem significantly less angry—and he’s glad. because sleeping without your body to squeeze in the dead of night and not hearing you hum that stupid song you always listen to as you wash dishes and not getting those back to back pings on his phone as you spam him with daily updates is starting to get to him. so he wraps an arm around your waist, tugs you flush against his chest as meets your gaze, “are you still mad? because then you’re just being difficult.”

“no,” you sigh, making him grin.

“good.”

“i just love you,” you mumble, and there’s that cute, innocent little pout that you always do tugging at your lips, the one that drives him mad and reminds him he’s just as in love too. “i want what’s best for you—”

“yeah, yeah,” he grunts, “okay. i love you too. i’ll start being more responsible and shit. now can i come to bed?”

“fine,” you cave, “but—”

“great, let’s go,” he drags you along, not wasting a moment before your body is tossed onto the mattress and his lands on top of you, head tucking into your neck. and it’s warm—where his lips are, where he traces kisses along the awaiting skin. 

dating shidou ryusei is exhausting—but there are a few perks, you have to admit. 

“you’re a headache,” you murmur, threading your fingers through his hair. he snorts, shakes his head from his place in your neck, earning a small giggle from you at the way it tickles. 

“yeah? so are you with your nagging.”

“i don’t nag,” you slap his shoulder. he laughs—it’s that low, soft rumble that he only laughs around you, when his head is tucked into your neck, and your hands rub up and down his back, and he’s content. 

and maybe a little in love. 

“you do. but i love it, it’s hot when you’re mad.”

“go to sleep, ryusei,” you roll your eyes. and then you wait a moment or two—just so he doesn’t get a big head when you begrudgingly mumble, “and i love you too.”

half of this is just filler with dialogue but wtv. take this lil scenario in my head of arguing w shidou bc he’s a living train wreck

[krahk]

Blood for Ruin

Part One : Part Two

Masterlist

Alastor x OFC/Reader (no use of Y/N)

Part Three

(Or Alastor learns it’s never to late learn your kinks, hell welcomes all)

18+ from here on out to be safe.

Warnings: entering smutty content near the end, written by an amateur. No smutty smut, but it’s beginning from here on out. I am opening that can of worms.

__

You really hoped you were harder to kill in hell, because these people simply had no sense of preservation of life in them. First full day in hell and you had been invited to a BDSM club, thrown off of a roof and hid from gunfire trying to keep the creepy little janitor from jumping into the crossfires. Trust exercises were not supposed to be life threatening, but the mania of the day had certainly made it harder for you to focus on your situation for the time being. Back at the hotel you gratefully accepted a drink from Husk as the group recapped the day they had just gone through. For a bunch of terrible sinners, they were pretty alright. Like when you were all alive, the group of you was simply trying to get by day by day.

You had learned that Angel was a porn star in Hell, Nifty’s kinks were both frightening and dangerous (mostly to her, but still), Husk you were certain liked nobody, and Vaggie was an aggressive woman who had no issues throwing you through the fire if she thought it would make you a better person on the other side.

You supposed there were worse people to attach yourself to given your situation. Part of you was grateful that you landed in a place that offered you a place to stay, food to eat with a generous host who made sure you were dressed and comfortable all around. Even though you had processed your death fairly quickly (that was normal, according to Angel) you did know that you could have it so much worse and be dealing with everything alone.

Grateful that everyone was heading to their own quarters when Alastor had returned with the little egg creatures, you made sure to avoid hovering your attention in his direction and ran upstairs after Angel, who had the room next to yours. While passing by Alastors room he had pointed a finger towards his open mouth and gagged, to which you could only respond with a forced chuckle. You waved goodnight to him as you opened your room door and found yourself falling onto the bed and passing out before your head even hit the pillow. Day one, over.

After a few weeks of Hell, you had settled into a comfortable routine. In the mornings you would join the others in the lounge for breakfast and coffee, you would all chat and discuss the next redemption plans before everyone would set off on their own plans for the day if Charlie and Vaggie didn’t have an exercise planned. You still had not left the safety of the building, knowing from your first day that it was strictly mean streets out there. Charlie had grabbed you a few more articles of clothing to complete your meagre wardrobe, and you were not picky in the slightest so you accepted your role as a doll she could dress up. She had picked a lot of modest, but cute A-line dresses, shorter skirts with turtlenecks, a suit - she had a clear preference of clothing seeing as your new items closely resembled her and Vaggie’s overall style. One thing you were grateful for was that the shoes she chose you didn’t require you to wear socks. Like your arms, your legs were black from the end of your limbs until your joint, where the black faded after it passed the knee. So it always looked like you were wearing little stockings. In your time in Hell getting comfortable in your new skin you had also discovered a scattering of black and white freckles on your shoulders and upper arms. You found yourself to be one of the luckier sinners, because your feet were still feet. Many souls like yours had come to hell with hooved feet, but you received a tail instead, which was not quite as common.

Angel had been your link to the world outside, he was constantly on his phone and for some lucky reason the underworld had a similar system of communication like earth. Cell phones, social media, advertisements, etc. It was truly not a far cry from what you knew. He had given you an older phone of his to use, the hotel members being the only contacts in your phone (minus Nifty & Alastor, for which you were grateful) and the two of you texted on the daily, him quickly becoming the closest member of the group to you. Even though Husk was the most recent being to die aside from you, Angel was the most willing to adapt to change. He effortlessly weaved through this complicated lifestyle with ease. He was confident, smart, and an all around great guy. If he would consider easing up on the partying and perhaps manage a way to distance himself from his industry he really would be an excellent candidate for redemption.

Alastor had still not spoken with you since your initial confrontation. Not that you were complaining but it was getting to the point that Angel had noticed his distance from you. It was if he was deliberately avoiding any chance that the two of you would end up in the same room. When asked about the radio, you found that even if you wanted to mention what you thought were unimportant details of it, your tongue snapped to the bottom of your mouth, preventing words from coming out. You had lamely said it was a motel item that got caught in your descent and you really had no idea why it followed you. Charlie had simply declared that possessions must occasionally follow a soul, but usually souls don’t fall in a space with decent people who won’t steal your stuff. It was simply considered an anomaly and after the first week thankfully people seemed to forget about it.

And while Alastor might have prevented you from mentioning anything to anyone about the symbols that were in the radio, it didn’t prevent you from researching the symbols. Charlie had a very extensive collection of books in the hotel library that you had been working your way through. Since you had no job and minimal expectations, you were sifting through the books quickly. And because Angel had left in a rush for a shoot earlier in the morning, your recent hobby started a few hours earlier than usual. You had made your way through a large portion of the ‘Historical Literature’ section before hearing a commotion outside of the library. With your ears being so sensitive it was easy for you to not make a sound while honing in on what was being said. It was more Husk and Angel bickering, but this one sounded worse than usual, ending with Angel storming out of the hotel and Vaggie immediately harping on Husk about his behaviour.

You shot a quick message to Angel by text, getting a read notification but no response. Oof, he was really in a mood. You sent another one telling him you were there when he was ready and a heart emoji, which resulted in a heart being sent in return. Husk had followed him shortly after so you weren’t too worried about how his night would go.

You had started sifting through the next category of books, which appeared to be something of a ‘Human Magic’ section. It appeared to start right at the beginning of humanity’s creation, which meant this was another hefty subject you’d have to filter through. You were only going shelf by shelf because you had started with ‘Runework’, ‘Salem Witchcraft’ and ‘Hell’s Overlords’, hoping to find the information right away with no luck.

Your phone vibrated and you absentmindedly opened the message from Angel, and your stomach dropped.

‘I need help.’

You tried calling and the phone went straight to voicemail, disconnecting as his mailbox was full. You shot out of the library and looked around. With Husk going after Angel, was he in trouble as well? Damn you wished Husk carried a phone. Vaggie and Charlie were also absent from the hotel or at least very very quiet with whatever they were doing.

You decided there was no time to hesitate and you went out the front door, running straight for the Vee’s district in an attempt to remember every bar that Angel had mentioned frequenting in the past. He was a famous porn star, surely someone had noticed the giant spider passing by them on the street. It wasn’t as if he was capable of being a wallflower after all.

You had started into a light jog as soon as you hit main street, the people out and about making you nervous. You were grateful that your new form allowed you to run without any difficulty, the benefits of being a deer hybrid being in your favour today. You ran quickly towards the bright district, making it there in a short period of time, and merging with a larger crowd entering. It seemed dangerous making it obvious that you were out on your own. You were due for trouble after all, it had been a fairly calm life since keeping your distance from him.

The group you had followed went straight into an arcade bar. Great. You were certain that Angel wasn’t here, games weren’t his thing but the giant windows peering into the establishment made it easy to recognize that he wasn’t present. You had made it a few blocks before trying to call Angel again, with it still failing. During your second attempt you noticed that there were a few people heading your way on the sidewalk so you shrunk over to the edge of the building to give them room to move past you.

But you found yourself bumping into one of them who deliberately stayed in your path, and when you looked at their face you came eye to eye with a wolf demon smiling and growling down at you. You glanced around you and noticed that you were surrounded by two additional wolves and your back pressed against the wall behind you in an attempt to create some space away from them.

“Hey baby,” The one you ran into started, “Eager for a good time? Can’t keep your hands off of me?” The other two laughed, one even licking his lips before his friend continued. ”You look cute, how about we find some privacy?” He stepped towards you with his arm reaching for yours and you took a step away, right into the other wolf. Shit. The three laughed at you shoving the one aside and walking backwards to try and make a gap, but they were advancing quickly. Panicking, you threw the only thing you had on you - the phone - with which the corner smacked one of them squarely in the eye, making him shout in pain. Another jumped at you and you quickly dodged his lunge by bracing a hand on his head and leaping over him to start into a sprint once your feet hit the ground.

Note for next time: Heels are super cute, but super terrible to run in, because they caught up to you quickly, despite your quick escape. One wolf immediately punched you in the face, causing your nose to have a minor explosion of blood shoot out of it, which made your brain rattle.

”You might just be cuter like this,” One guy said, pulling your arm so hard you lost your balance and was dragging behind him as the three took you into the closest alleyway. “We could have had a nice night, but you had to go and fuck it up. Now you’ll get what’s coming to ya.” The one who held your arm roughly lifted you back to your feet and slammed you against the brick wall, making your head hit it just as hard. It was getting hard to think about a way out, your head was so foggy.

“Hey this bitch was texting Angel Dust!” One of the guys said, probably the one who had her phone thrown to his face. “She’s got to be a dirty slut! Have you seen any of his shit? It’s messed up man, we got ourselves a wild one here!” He cheered, whooping with the other demon who wasn’t holding you up. You made eye contact with your captor and he was growling low with a sinister smile on his face.

”Lucky us! Prime meat for free? Baby I’ll make your night better than anyone you’ve ever been w-“ his words were cut off, as his neck suddenly had a black tentacle wrapped around it, squeezing so hard his eyeballs were protruding out of their sockets. You fell to your ass, legs bent on the ground, hands trying to steady your swaying head. Looking over you saw the bodies of the other wolves, already separated into a few pieces, some appendages being swung around by the tentacles.

Looking forward you noticed who came to your rescue. It was Alastor, and he was pissed. Thankfully not at you, although you certainly had a concussion so there was a chance you were misinterpreting the situation. He said something to your assaulter about how to be a gentleman and ‘perhaps he would discover how to treat a lady in his next life’ before all the tentacles had wrapped about his and his friends bodies before disappearing with them into the ground. Your surroundings now quiet except for your heavy breathing, you watched Alastor take even, steady steps towards your fallen form.

“Well now! Haven’t you got yourself in a bit of trouble, hmm?” He taunted, entirely too chipper. Closing one eye and squinting the other to avoid seeing double, you noticed that he had blood on his face, under his nose, which you apparently pointed at, because he raised a brow and questioned it.

”Blood on your face.” You said with a bit of a slur, “S’little bit here.” And pointed to your own nose, fingers getting coated in blood. His hand reached up to his face and he touched his nose, only for blood to begin to flow from it. Shocked, he grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at it while he frowned at you before offering a second handkerchief to you. You shook your head, well tried too, and said something about being sleepy.

”Now, now, sleeping after a head injury is most certainly bad for you!” He chirped, putting his handkerchiefs away now that his face was clean. He leaned over to inspect your injuries, taking note of your head and nose specifically.

“Care to explain why you are wandering about on your own my dear? Itching for a second death?” He asked in a condescending manner. “Quite foolish of you really, to come without an escort - why you are quite lucky I happened to be around, darling!” He waved his hand about in a dramatic fashion before offering his hand to you, lifting you up. On your feet you dusted off what rubble had got on you, found your phone settled on the ground a few feet away and began to try and walk to it only to find that your balance was way off course. With one hand holding your head you reached for your phone, noticing new texts from Angel.

‘with my script later, are you free?’ Followed with: ‘Sorry babe! That first message didn’t send all the way, love ya xoxo’

For fuck sakes.

”Hmm?”Alastor hummed, looking down at your phone, reading the messages. “Oh-ho! So you were on a rescue mission were you? Noble indeed, considering your naivety and lack of knowledge of any part of Hell outside the hotel.”

You shot him a nasty glance. “I was worried.” Augh. Pathetic response.

“Very stupid thing to do, really.” Picking at one of his claws, attempting to be indifferent. “Very stupid indeed, especially since I have just had an unfortunate revelation.”

”Hmm?” You responded, still trying to get the throbbing in your head to settle down. “I know it was stupid,” agreeing with him made him in a good mood, Husk had told you, “But I had to try and find him, I don’t think he has many people to depend on.”

He gave you a look of contempt. He really did not care for anyone other than himself.

“You and I need to have a chat darling.” His eyes narrowed as he wrapped a hand around your upper arm, painfully putting pressure on a new bruise from the previous baddie. He dragged you alongside him, holding you so close to him you could feel the heat of his body through his jacket. “Say nothing until we make it to the hotel my dear, there are always eyes on us out here.” He gestured with his microphone cane in a wide sweep, indicating literally every where could be listening. You obeyed him by not responding which kept Alastor in a good mood during the walk home.

However upon arrival, he dragged your sorry ass through his shadow travel again, but thankfully to your room. More specifically your bathroom. He gestured for you to sit down, which you did on the edge of the tub, and watched him gather a pathetic amount of first aid. He removed his coat and rolled up the sleeve of his right hand, almost all the way up to the elbow. You noticed his arms were covered in scars that stood out from his black skin that was similar to your own pattern, except fading away before the joint of his elbow. The scars were all thin and bright white, a stark contrast. However what he was looking at intensely was a large bruise that had formed right below his elbow, right above the fade of his black skin. He then turned to you and grabbed your right arm and lined up the two. You had a much darker bruise that matched his. Weird. Didn’t Pentious say that no one had landed a hit on Alastor before? And that a small piece of coat was all he himself had managed to get? So how did those stupid wolves get up on him? And when?

The room had a massive chill fill the air as Alastor processed what he was thinking. What was he thinking? Could you talk now? Should you? You should at least thank him.

”Thank-“

”Quiet.” he interrupted. No filter on his voice for that one. Just a deep, sharp command.

Your lips tightened into a thin line and you nodded despite your killer headache. He released your arm and went back to the counter. With his jacket off you could see that he, too, had a small deer tail on his backside. It was red and black, much like his hair. It was probably the only cute thing about him, and you’d die before you said that out loud. Alastor came back to you with a warm wet cloth and some antiseptic. He instructed you to wipe up the blood on your face and he wiped a few of your more surface scrapes that were on your legs and knees. You narrowed your own eyes, why on earth was he doing this? It was as if he was trying to memorise every little injury you had received. Once you felt as if you had removed all the dried blood from your face you braced both hands on either side of you as you watched Alastor tend to your wounds. When he was quiet and focused he wasn’t too terribly frightening, but in the way that a poisonous snake might be. Obviously dangerous, possibly venomous, and could certainly kill you given the chance, but still captivating to watch. He released a huff of air when he was done checking out your head, just a bump he said, he moved to your nose. He had gently grasped your chin and moved your head from side to side, where he traced some of the worst damage with his free hand.

“Not broken, my dear, but guaranteed to have a couple of black eyes by this evening.” He announced. “You shall not be leaving your room until you have healed or found a way to cover those up.” Man was he bossy. He put his coat back on and leaned into the mirror to check his own face before tapping the floor with his microphone for your attention. His shadows enveloped the small room, and it was as if you were sitting on a void of nothingness, large symbols hovering around you in green. And just as quick as the dark arrived it disappeared with another few taps from his cane.

“Preventative measures darling, we cannot have anyone listening in on us.”

”Uhh…okay? Okay. Why?” Why are you so creepy?

”Creepy keeps the fear alive darling.” Well shit, that last bit was said out loud. Stupid concussion. “I think it is time to discuss the Radio, because you have proven to be a thorn in my side that I cannot simply be rid of with my usual methods.”

You nod along with each word slowly and focus on the last bit - the usual methods? “Do you mean eating people?” the statement escaped your loose lips, feeling drunk from the head injury .

His smile turned even more wicked if that was a possibility, eyes and teeth glowing like dim lamps. “Among other things…” He trailed off, closing his eyes and being sure to cock his head up in a very proud manner. He seemed pleased you had heard some of the more…graphic methods of dealing with other demons. His cool composure only lasted a moment. Once he opened his eyes, his mood was icy, eyes sharp and narrowed as he came a little closer without overwhelming your personal space and spoke bluntly, radio voice effect gone, “It appears as if you have linked our souls into an agreement that even I am unable to break.” He stared into your eyes, his fury palpable. You frowned in response out of both confusion and fear.

“What do you mean? I don’t even know who you are! I still don’t know who you are, how can we possibly be…like that…?” You ended lamely, hands wildly gesturing between the two of you. He had surely made a mistake, because this sort of thing just didn’t happen. Besides, you had only met him after death, so there was simply a misunderstanding. You shook your head in denial, causing blood to leak out of one nostril.

“A-hem” He said, getting your focus back on his face. His nose, same nostril, now had a slow trail of blood trickling out. He stood straight and a handkerchief appeared in his hand to dap his face while you grabbed some bathroom tissue off the roll beside you. It was hard to meet his eyes as it was obvious he was upset with you.

Attempting to end the silence, you spoke up. “Did you get hit as well? Your nose has been bleeding just as much as mine.” His eyebrows arched so high it was lost within his hairline, the stretched skin the only visual evidence of his reaction.

“No. I do not get hit.” He scoffed. “This is a result of the damage you incurred today my dear.”

Your lack of reaction, compounded with the cold molasses that was currently your brain, made him sigh and begin his explanation.

”The Radio was mine as a young man. It never worked quite right, so I was constantly repairing it. But this was before my Radio Show! So fixing instead of purchasing new was all I could do at the time. I would have kept it forever if I could, it was one of the only things my mother had given me on her own.” He had started picking under his middle finger with his thumbnail, trying to appear indifferent to his admission. You caught on to the way his voice softened when his mother was mentioned but you weren’t inviting death over tonight so you kept a straight face.

“Just before my career took off, I had been dabbling with some other gifts that came from my mothers side. Her ancestors were practitioners of creole magic, something that I am familiar with, but not proficient enough to use in my day to day.” Eyes back to you, he continued on. “The symbols in the radio were a deal I made with it, naively, early on in my practising. I was certain I would become a radio star, first of my kind, and well, sometimes we do questionable things while drinking.” He rolled his eyes at that, resulting in a smirk on your own face. “A friend and I had quite a night out! She knocked my radio over and the back panel came off. I cut myself on a stray piece of metal inside, cutting myself quite deep-“ He opened his palm with the scar to stare into it. “Beyond my better judgement I wrote, in my own blood, symbols I was not familiar with and apparently created unfinished magic that was only completed and sealed when your blood went over my runes.”

Still confused, you gave him a look that caused him to roll his eyes at you, as if you were the malicious force at play here and continued.

”What was a foolish act of an immature man at the end of a bottle of rye has now tethered our souls together. Akin to,” he shuddered, “Soulmates. However where fate might have chosen different paths for our souls, we have become united through dark magic powered behind the power I hold now, which is significantly stronger than when I wrote the symbols within the machine.” His smile was tight, still present as always, but certainly not the smile of a happy man.

But wait - “I don’t have any magic though, so why…?” You started, trying to steer the conversation away from the dreaded admission of the demon.

“Your being has little to no effect, my dear. The deal I was attempting to make with the Radio relied on magic supplied by me and me alone, as one cannot make a Radio respond to such a request.” One hand came up to his temple to put pressure on it, like you would do when you had a headache. “Foolish, foolish man.” He said, quickly and quietly, your ears picking it up as if he made no attempt to remain unheard. “And because the deal was made in blood, with the same instrument, on the same hand, even - I suspect that blood is our tether. Some link love or minds, so they can reciprocate feelings and thoughts to a person of their choice. And due to my being well, dead, the only thing we were able to link was our blood. In layman’s terms, darling - you bleed, I bleed. Your blood rushes to an impact, my blood rushes to an impact. You blush and, augh, etc. Do you understand?”

”Yes. But that honestly sounds ridiculous, and would be hard to believe if I didn’t die and land in hell a month ago. But I will admit, my knowledge of creole magic is absolutely zero, straight up nothing, so this was honestly just an unfortunate…mistake, that we can possibly undo?” You said with hesitancy at the end, but Alastor shook his head before you were even done speaking.

“I have looked into it extensively, and I am afraid it is not something we can separate - not even with Death. You die, I die. And I have far too much unfinished business to bow down to death just yet.”

“Oh, super duper!” You replied, chipper like Charlie. His face dropped at your tone, frowning down at you.

“No, not ‘super duper’, finger quotes around his snarky repetition, “Quite terrible for me actually. You have become my greatest liability. I am not worried I will get either of us in any kind of danger, but as we have both learned this evening, you are incapable of even walking on your own without getting into trouble.” His microphone now bracing both of his hands in front of his body.

Well excuse you for being a basic, simple individual without knowing everything about everything in the whole wide world, and also not knowing anything about the thing that Alastor told you not to talk about? This guy was an asshole on so many levels that you missed when he just left you alone.

”Well, I’m sorry that you’re stuck with me, because it was totally my plan for this to happen.” Giving him a deadpanned look that made him smile tighter out of…well, you didn’t really know. He wasn’t that easy to read when he wasn’t angry.

“That is quite enough funny business for today, I am afraid that your galavanting around Hell will stop immediately. You will stay within the confines of this hotel. You will stay in your room during the extermination-“

”This is bullshit! I am a free person to do whatever! You can’t control me like this-“ He was growing again, filling the small bathroom with his demonic figure.

“Foolish girl, I can do whatever I want with you!” He growled, tendrils coming up from the shadowed ground to wrap themselves around your calves and wrists, another wrapping itself in your hair to control your head, forcing you to look right into his demonic eyes.

“I have been kind, considering your unfortunate and pathetic self has been on my nerves since the moment you arrived. You are a senseless creature who-“ he choked on his words, pausing as his smile lowered. You were breathing much harder now, and suddenly it made sense why you were so unbothered by the BDSM club Angel brought the group to. This was turning you on, being helpless and controlled by such a force like Alastor. Still staring at each other face to face, you could see a blush start to spread like a brand across his cheeks. His breath began to match yours, and you shifted your ass that was still seated on the bathtub edge in a vain attempt to get comfortable. In record time you had become wet from the situation. You were turned on, girl, and he was feeling the same effects. Wherever the blood rushes was no lie.

You started to laugh at the situation, manically as you realised what had happened. He was still frozen in place, clearly unsure of how to proceed. He needed to teach you a lesson, to know who was in charge of this unwanted union but obviously this was doing nothing but cause your blood to rush to your cunt, because he felt a pressure almost unfamiliar to him below his navel. He was disgusted that you were causing this reaction from him, he was an elevated creature with no need for carnal pleasures. And now you were laughing at him.

The tendrils released from your person so quickly that the movement caused you to slide back into the tub, hitting the bottom of the tub with your ass, but catching the sides with your elbows to prevent your head from smacking backwards. Alastor had returned to his usual form, blush still visible on his cheeks but definitely going away as you yourself had woken from your horny stupor.

“I believe I have made my point. Perhaps I am being far too protective of you, we will have to discuss a proper method to exist in spite of our situation. I expect reasonable suggestions when we revisit the topic. For now I will leave you be, as your injuries have been attended to and have already begun the healing process. Does all of this sound reasonable to you?” Wow, how quickly the tables have turned, being turned on was obviously not something he had thought of dealing with, and it was easy to get you going. Certainly more so now that you had so much more peach fuzz on your skin as a deer hybrid - you were extra sensitive to any touch. Perhaps that was why Alastor disliked physical touch as well? Your smiling of this thought clearly made him wary of you at this moment. He repeated his last sentence again.

”Yes, Alastor, it sounds reasonable. We can talk about a game plan later, and I promise I will try to make it as easy as possible.”

He nodded at your answer and narrowed his eyes with a slight smile, “Good Girl.”

You felt the shocking return of arousal at those words and released a very small “oh!”, and he sank into his shadows immediately, leaving you alone in the bathtub bruised and turned on.

Well, turns out you had a praise kink too.

***********

First three parts is over 11K word wise. I can’t stop writing, I’m at 32k now, I just keep plugging away editing/writing/thinking. I’m so grateful for all the likes and comments.

@queermaxwooo @drawings-by-meh @sirens-and-moonflowers @looking1016

[blarshwritezz]

Hey, could you write me a Yandere JUICY gay enemies to loves story? Male yandere enemy x male reader. For example, yandere is such a tsundere when it comes to his love for the reader and his way of showing his love comes out as insults, bullying, etc. and the reader just so hates Yandere but is unaware how much his mean insults, that sometimes come out as hella flirty and gay, turn on the Yandere or how they get incredibly flustered when reader corners them. Just make it hella obviously gay and perhaps with a one-sided sexual tension from the yanderes perceptive if you write NSFW that is, thanks! (You can ignore this request if you want, it's okay :))

Heck yeah I can! But be warned, I've never written nsfw, so it may be bad- but I'll try just for you, anon!

Yandere Enemy x Reader

M yan x M reader (slight context: y'all in college)

TW - general yandere behavior, NSFW, noncon, slight degration

Another day, another fight between you and Enemy!Yan. The people around you had pretty much become totally numb to your constant bickering.

But to be fair, they wouldn't have to put up with this if he wasn't such a massive prick. You never even did anything! He was the one who kept taunting you.

He shouldn't do that. Nearly every time you retaliate, he ends up fumbling to speak. He's such an idiot, can't take what he dishes out. Absolutely pathetic...

And so here you were. Today's little fight had you pinning him against a wall, trying to keep your voice relatively calm. You caught him taking pictures of you in the damn hall! He was definitely planning to do something with those.

"Don't act so special, I would never ruin my phone with pictures of you!" Lies. He was covering up for the fact that he absolutely was taking pictures of you.

But how could he not? It was your fault you were sexy! You were just infuriating to him. What gave you the right to make him so fucking turned on all the time?!

"Shut up before I make you. Delete those damn pictures." You pressed your body up against him further. You were so close that every breath he took filled his lungs with your scent. You really expected him to not get hard?

Please make him shut up. Please gag him with your cock. Please.

"I don't have pictures of your atrocious face. How thick is your damn skull?" Of course he didn't have pics of your face! Mostly- not from last night at least. He was more focused on your ass other things.

You grabbed his jaw, making him use every fiber of his being to not moan. You gave him a warning, making sure he knew bad things awaited him if you saw some dumbass pictures of you around campus. Oh to know what punishment you would give him...

"You want them gone so damn bad? Delete them yourself!" He wormed his way out from between you and the wall, running off with his phone held above his head.

And of course, you chased after him.

He ran, all the way to his dorm. He threw his phone on his bed, and of course, you went after it. That gave him the perfect chance to lock the door.

You found his phone already unlocked, and when you opened it...

"How do you have all these pictures of m-" He clamped his hand over your mouth before you could finish asking about the photos seemingly taken when you swore you were completely alone in your dorm.

"You're such a fucking tease, you know that?" His other hand slowly slid down your torso, working its way back up from under your shirt. "Always threatening me in ways you know will get me all hot and bothered, then not helping me out. How can you be so mean?"

He pushed you down further on the bed, starting to slowly grind against your thigh. His hand that was under your shirt, gliding over your chest, lowered further and further. All the way to your cock, grasping it through your pants.

You bit his hand as hard as you could, hoping it might help, but the action only elicited a pleasures whimper from him.

"Keep doing that, and make sure to lick it too. You'll need it for what I'm planning."

You squirmed as he lowered your pants and underwear in one swift motion, letting your cock spring free. Embarrassingly enough, you were already hard from all this.

"It's even better up close..."

He could help but give you a hand job. Slow and steady, savoring every second of this. He ran his fingers across each and every vein, keeping his thumb over your tip to stop you from cumming too soon.

Every now and then he'd surprise you; tightening his grip, increasing his speed, stopping for a brief moment just to get right back at it. He was turning you into a whimpering, pathetic mess.

"Fuck, you're so pathetic..." He let go of your mouth in order to hold your thighs apart slightly.

He moved his head between them, taking a nice long lick up your shaft before engulfing you with his mouth. He bobbed his head up and down, swirling his tongue around your tip and making you moan.

"Sto- ngh!~ Fuck..."

He chuckled at your attempt to tell him to stop, the sound vibrating around your dick.

You couldn't take it anymore. You grabbed his hair tightly, forcing yourself all the way down his throat as you came.

He eagerly swallowed your load, choking on it before releasing you from his mouth with a wet pop.

"Fuck, you taste damn good..." He groaned, wiping a few drops of your cum from his chin.

He mixed it with his own spit in his hand, using it to lube up his aching member before flipping you on your stomach and thrusting into you suddenly.

He could've cum right then and there just from feeling your tight asshole squeezing around him, but he held back. Well, not enough to keep himself from pounding into you, regardless of how ready you were or how much you wanted it.

His pace was brutal, every thrust seeming harder and harder. The only way he was able to keep (somewhat) silent was by trailing hickeys down your neck and shoulders, holding your head up by your hair.

"Such a good boy...you my bitch now?" Through grunts and moans he whispered in your ear. "This is what you get for being a damn tease. Fuck...yeah, you're my fucking bitch now. My little bitch boy..."

He started jerking you off again as he rearranged your guts, driving you closer to another climax.

"Now be a good whore and cum for me."

Yet again, as if your body just naturally wanted to do what he said, you bust a nut. And with a few more deep thrusts, so did he, painting your insides white.

He didn't pull out of you for a good few minutes, just laying there and holding you, until finally he whispered: "You didn't think I was done, did you?~"

I think this is the longest one I've done so far! I hope it was satisfactory!

[ghost-proofbaby]

OH SAY LESS 14 WITH ASTARION PLEASE

so this is my first time publicly writing and posting astarion, so please be gentle. higher word count solely because i felt the need to add lore because, ya know, first time writing him! also, i changed the line just a tiny bit to better fit the character and scene. ALSO, uh... this is a little fade to black. i'm sorry. it just got too long.

14. "Oh, you're hard to please."

warnings: foreplay, sorta fade to black smut (it's there if you squint your eyes), an ungodly amount of pet names, mentions of past sexual abuse and healing from it, technical game spoilers, not edited, 18+ so minors do not interact

pairings: astarion x afab!reader (no pronouns used)

wc: 4.4k+

join the smutty party! send me one of these smut dialogue prompts with a character

How long had it been since Astarion had actually enjoyed sex? Craved it, even? 

If he recalls correctly, it had to have started to become tainted well over a century ago. Somewhere between the first and the third victim, when he’d realized how every single beautiful soul he had entrapped were simply being lured to their own death. And then, the sour taste left in his mouth only became more pungent the longer it went on, the more he came to the realization of just how used he felt. His body was no longer his own – it technically hadn’t been his from the very second he’d emerged from his own grave, and Cazador had been waiting for him – and everything about the act became an old rehearsed dance that he’d grit his teeth through. A chore, something to make his stomach churn, something to regret. A means to an end. 

Plainly put, it had been a while. 

But then you happened. You, who hadn’t blinked an eye when the first time you met him, he’d literally threatened you with a gods damned blade to your throat. You, who had repeatedly trusted him, even when it had been an objectively stupid thing to do. You, who had always offered him the utmost patience and genuine understanding, to the point in which if he thought about it too hard, he’d probably cry. You, who had led your group of misfits with brain worms right into victory, with plenty of personal demons defeated along the way. 

Personal demons including Cazador. 

Maybe that’s when things changed for Astarion. He’d already fallen for you before your group had reached Baldur’s Gate, he’d already gotten to know your body intimately before ever laying eyes on that ridiculously oversized brain you somehow made look easy to defeat. But that had been different, hadn’t it? He hadn’t really wanted to do that (not meant as an offense to you – certainly not after all was said and done), but had thought he needed to. To gain your trust, to gain your protection. And in the end, it turned out he never needed to do such a thing. You’d never said it outloud, probably at risk of making him feel even more regret after you’d learned all his secrets and darkest corners, but he knew. 

And knowing that you didn’t view him as something purely sexual, as a means to an end, as an item to use – well, it had the opposite effect of his request to no longer be viewed in that light. 

“What are you doing?” he says as he quickly looks up from his current book he’d been pursuing the moment you’d entered the room. He hardly cared for the words on the page – he just needed a way to pass the hours until you were available again. 

It was a hard habit to kick. Being so codependent on you, even with the end of the world resolved and the gift of safety being handed over to him on a silver platter. 

“We received mail,” you’re grinning wickedly as you hold up an embellished envelope, delicate fingers pinching the parchment as if it were the greatest gift to ever exist. He’d argue the real gift at hand was the last three months – time spent with you, in a place he can call home. But nothing could impede on your good mood as you throw yourself down on the mattress beside him, “From Withers, of all people!” 

His brows shoot up for just a moment before his face twists up with something akin to distrust, “Withers? What in the Hells does that sack of dust and bones wan-” 

“A reunion,” you cut him off, the look on your face warning enough against his attempt at an insult. “He’s reaching out to all of us to bring us together for a celebration, to check in on everyone, let us see each other again. Apparently, we were the easiest of the bunch to find.”

Astarion quickly lets out a tut as he snaps the book shut and discards it on the bedside table closest to him, “Well, we certainly need to fix that. Soon enough all of those little shits are going to end up on our doorstep, preaching about the power of friendship and how they want to check in on us.” 

You snort at that, laying flat on your back with your hair wildly spread out in a makeshift halo behind you. The sight causes something to stir within him, his gut twisting as he watches the way your knees knock together before slowly falling apart, your legs settling down as flat as the rest of your body.

He hadn’t taken you since that night at his grave. Before the epic final battle, before the two of you had made the decision to settle down somewhere for some well-earned peace and quiet. 

The moonlight dances past the open curtains, and his breath catches in his throat at the way the blue shadows dance across your skin. It almost reminds him of the first time he’d seen you fight. It hadn’t just been the blood splattered across your cheeks that had really gotten the better of his curiosity (even if that’s what he had told you when you asked), it had been the sunlight. Those rays of gold that had mingled with your own aura of warmth after you had helped the tieflings for the first time. 

You put the sun to shame, truly. And he missed it – Gods, did he miss it – but he was content to bask in the peace of night for a few months more before he finally cut you loose from the leash to begin your next phase of adventures to find him a cure. You had promised him you would, had already dedicated plenty of free time to research, and all you really needed was his word to begin. 

He’s selfish. The two of you can find a way for him to walk in the sun once more another day; all he wants right now is to bury himself in your warmth, to slot his body between your thighs, to hear every breathy gasp and the way you’d practically sing his name-

“Star?” you’re looking up at him from an awkward angle, eyes owlish and chin tilted painfully far back as you clearly await an answer to a question he’d been too lost in a daydream to overhear, “Did you hear me?” 

He clears his throat and adjusts the pillows behind his back, keeping him propped up as he admires you, “Of course I did, darling.” 

“Then what did I just say?”

“Something about how we’re absolutely not going to this reunion, yes?” 

Your smile is nothing but patient as you flip onto your stomach. He watches the way your shorts ride up your thighs, how the top of the soft fabric bunches at your waist. His fingers practically twitch with the need to weasel their way under it, to press his cold fingertips into warm flesh and hear you preen. 

Whenever you’re ready, you had whispered to him one night shortly after saving the world. Just tell me when, and I’m yours. 

He was ready. Insatiably ready, really. 

“Very funny. I said we should go, though. It’d be nice to see everyone again, wouldn’t it? All our friends?” 

You’re still talking about this damned reunion. Astarion has half the mind to figure out a way to summon the insufferable skeleton right here, right now, and drive a dagger into his bones until he’s truly nothing but dust. Solely for the distraction. 

“Your friends, my dear,” he corrects gently, “We both know they’re only overly fond of one of us in this relationship, and it certainly isn’t the one that they repeatedly threatened to stake.” 

The furrow of your brows is impossibly cute – he knows that look of determination. It’s the same one you wore when he mentioned it was likely that the two of you would never find a cure to his condition. 

“Our friends,” you insist, “Karlach adores you, Star. And Wyll has always been proud of you, whether he told you as much or not.”

“And what of Gale?” 

Your lips twitch at that, “Gale… certainly wouldn’t stake you on sight.”

“Ah, yes,” he flourishes, trying to keep his eyes from wandering anywhere but where your hands press into your cheeks as you prop your face up to speak to him, “Not staking me. The ultimate sign of kinship.” 

Focusing is a losing battle when you roll your eyes, and he finds his mind overtaken with insatiable lust again. Imaginative ways that he could have your eyes rolling for him under different circumstances. 

“You’re not getting out of this. They are your friends just as well as mine – so argue all you want, but we’re going to the reunion.” 

“Are you sure there’s no other way I might be able to…” he pauses with intent, finally lifting one of his docile hands to your cheek, letting his finger graze the skin with a feather light touch before it travels back into the mess of your hair, “Persuade you otherwise?” 

You almost fall for it, too. Your eyes flutter shut, your head tilts into his touch as if you were starved for the connection. But even with the lack of sexual intimacy, you both know there hasn’t been a day that has gone by in the last three months where Astarion hasn’t found a way to get his hands on you.

Holding your own, resting his cheek on your shoulder, spinning you like a child in the kitchen – he had quite the sudden arsenal of romantic gestures that didn’t involve old wounds. It had been awkward here and there, some of them landing and some of them leaving you both looking like fools, but he was trying.

Almost as hard as he was currently trying to not jump your bones. 

When you recognize the innuendo for what it is, however, you harden immediately. Your shoulders set, a frown settles, and your eyes open with set determination he knows he can’t falter without speaking plainly to you. 

“No.”

“No?”

You’re quick to lift yourself up onto your knees, putting distance between yourself and his hands, “The days of weaponizing sex are over. I don’t even want to joke about that.” 

And, oh, he’s finding himself in quite the mood tonight, because as soon as you’re retracting, he’s following. As you settle on the haunches of your calves, he’s lifting up from his reclined position, leaning forward so that his face is breaths away from yours. 

“I mean it,” you warn, narrowing your eyes and holding up a finger in that small space between you two. 

He tests his luck, wasting no time in snapping his fangs just millimeters from your skin. You both know he wouldn’t actually bite you, but it still humors him to see the way you whip your hand out of his reach. 

“Were you not the one who insisted that we ask before we bite?” you snap, and his smile only worsens. Like a cheshire cat, like a child never scorned by the world – he’s radiant and basking in the moment. 

He lets out a small hmph before saying, “You’re no fun, my dear. Come on – just play with me for a moment, won’t you?” 

Your face softens at his teasing tone, and he can see the way he’s withering away your defenses one by one. There was once a time where he’d done it with malicious intent, but this time around, it’s with nothing but good intentions. 

If you asked him, he’d go as far as to swear it on his own grave. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize as if you’d done something wrong, and it makes more than half of his own playfulness drain from his face in absolute displeasure. Before he can so much as open his mouth to scold you about unnecessary apologies, you’re continuing on, “I just… After everything we’ve been through, it’s not something I find particularly joyous to joke about.”

What a rare thing, to have found someone to bare your soul and all your burdens to, and watch them offer to help you shoulder the weight without second thought or regret. 

He’s never met someone like you in all his years, and he might never again. 

“And if I told you I wasn’t joking?” he asks slowly, carefully, trying to choose each word with the utmost care, “I’m not weaponizing – I’m offering.” 

Whenever you’re ready. Just tell me when, and I’m yours.

He was ready. Very, desperately, sorely ready. 

The topic of the reunion is all but forgotten as you process his words, nose twitching as you decipher all that’s he laying out before you. “I want more than an offer.” 

“Excuse me?” 

He can’t help the small laugh that leaves him as he sits up properly, leaning into your space fully now with one hand pressing into the mattress just beside one of your thighs. He can feel the heat radiating from you, smell your blood rushing to your head as you try to be sensible. It’s a pitiful excuse for an internal war; all he has to do is close that conveniently small distance between your lips with his own, and you’ll have lost all sense of logic. 

“You’re…” you trail off, searching his eyes as if he holds the answer you’re currently looking for, “You’re sacred to me, Astarion. You must know that. And it will take much more than some joking offer to convince me to have sex with you when I know-”

“I’m not joking,” he’s nearly whining, letting his forehead fall forward to press to yours, “Gods, I am not joking about this. Cross my heart and hope to die again.” 

If he has to beg, he will. 

He’s spent two hundred years in an insufferable position of pure misery, pure shit, and the realization that he’s finally free has everything clicking into place. Proof of the change exists solely in the fact that he could have resorted to his tired old seduction routine from his life before to get what he wanted, but instead, he’s trying to just communicate. 

It was a novel moment. 

But he could appreciate it later, when the crotch of his pants wasn’t becoming increasingly uncomfortably tight and he wasn’t watching you closer than prey. When his stomach wasn’t so tight with desire and anticipation, just waiting for your word to indulge. 

“Do I need to beg?” he sighs, his lips brushing against yours ever so slightly from proximity. He catches the shiver that runs up your spine. “We both know I’m not particularly fond of it, but if I have to get on my knees for you- well, actually, that’s the entire point of what I’m asking.” 

You laugh at that, and his gut twists again, because it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever had the opportunity to hear. Something more breath than any vocality, something sharp and spelling out the loss of words on your tongue. 

Your silence is enough for him to push it all a step further. Forehead still leaning against yours, he properly presses his lips to yours this time, slotting them between softer than a feather’s caress. Finding home as he can physically feel himself steal your breath away. His fangs just barely nip your bottom lip, unintentionally but still eliciting a delicious reaction of a gasp that makes him graze you a second time just to feel the way you’re leaning into him more, becoming absolute putty in his hands. Pliable for his taking, and Gods, he wants to take you. 

Something snaps. 

All hesitation has vanished as he grabs at your hips quickly, making use of the way your brain has gone blank from a simple kiss in order to lay you out below him. He moves you with ease, incredible speed in slotting himself between your legs before he’s caging your entire body in with his own. The squeak that leaves your lips from his manhandling affects him even more than your gasps had, a low growl shaking his chest as he kisses you deeper. Tasting, begging, searching – he wants this, but he needs to know that you want this just as badly. 

Your hands find purchase on each of his shoulders, squeezing tightly as if needing something to tether yourself to. You pull him in closer for a second, eagerly returning the kiss, almost feverish in the way you drink him in. But the next, you’re pushing him away, a game of want and sensibility still clouding your judgment impossibly. 

You always were stubborn about things like morals. And, well, it wasn’t very moral to just jump right into sex with your traumatized boyfriend who had explicitly said not to view him in terms of sex, was it? 

It was Astarion’s own damn fault. 

He could have just acted like a normal person, initiated a normal conversation in which he renegotiated his boundaries. But you’ve been on his mind all day, and he’s long since proven since the very day that you met him that he has little to none impulse control. 

“My, my,” he murmurs, pulling back from the kiss, eyes wild, looking at you with even more hunger than he had the first night you’d given him a taste of your blood in camp, “You’re just an impossible thing to please, aren’t you? Do you want me near, do you want me far? Tell me, my love, what do you want?” 

He settles all his weight onto one of his forearms as the other slowly brings his hand to your side, caressing over the soft fabric of your shirt – a shirt he’s quickly realizing is actually his own. He recognizes those flowy sleeves, that lacing across the chest, the off-white tone that had seen better days. Given all its wear and tear, he’s almost sure that it’s one of his shirts he had grown most comfortable wearing during the nights of your adventures against the Netherbrain. 

It’s cute. A sort of domesticity that he can ponder over later, when your legs aren’t hanging on his hips and your breaths aren’t coming out staccato as he hovers just out of reach from you. 

“I want whatever you want,” you whisper. Your eyes flutter open, looking at him with pupils so dilated they could swallow him whole. 

“Let me be very clear, then,” he hums, cold fingers creeping their way to the hem of the shirt, slipping beneath with practiced ease to find the smooth skin of your hips below. They dance and skitter up, up, up until he’s brushing against your ribs, “I want you. I want that warm cunt of yours, I want to feel every gasp and breath as your walls squeeze around me. I want to fuck you until you’re unable to walk on your own two legs, until you can only remember my name. I want to watch you come undone, my dear, and for it to be my own undoing.”

Your lips quiver in anticipation, and he feels your thighs tighten their hold on him, “Such pretty words. And… and no ulterior motives? No sense of obligation?” 

“None at all,” he smiles, a predator closing in on his prey, “I’m choosing this. If you want it, if you’ll have me, then I’m ready, pet.” 

Pet. The nickname rolls off his tongue, and he can imagine your walls fluttering just as your eyes do. 

Your hands lift from his shoulders to bury in his hair instead. One cradling the back of his head, the other resting on the nape of his neck as you toy with a snowy curl. It unfurls him further, has him humming lowly as he dips down to recapture your lips and bring you into him even closer. Closer. He needs all and any space between the two of you to become nonexistent. To feel every inch of your skin pressed to his, to allow you to physically curl up into his chest just as you had his mind all those moons ago, to make a home in a room with your name on it already somewhere between his third and fourth rib. 

“Do you really have to doubt if I’ll have you, my love?” you mutter against his mouth, smile breaking the kiss momentarily before he’s back with a vengeance. You don’t care – you’re apparently in a chatty mood, dodging his kiss to get your last words in, “There’s been a space in my heart for you since the moment I first met yo-”

“Yes, yes, very romantic,” he interrupts urgently, suddenly tugging your shirt up, “But, truth be told, love? I’m hoping there’s a space between your legs for me at this moment.” 

You snort, eyes pinched shut as you attempt to shake your head at the ridiculousness of the words that just left his mouth. At any other moment, you might point out how the outrageous comment is just another defense mechanism, veering him away from having to acknowledge the gentle sentiment behind your own words, but now’s not the time. When you open your mouth, probably to say something exactly along those lines, he rolls his hips down against yours, pinning your lower half deep into the mattress. You feel just how hard he is through his trousers – it’s impossible to miss, but he’s deliberating being sure that you feel it as he lets the tips of his fangs sink into your bottom lip. 

The resolve of fighting against his wishes is quickly dissolved. One thing after another, and Astarion has you bare beneath him before any other distractions or annoying conversation can send the two of you further off track. Your, his, shirt is tossed to one side of the room. Your parents fly to the other side of the bed. Only once he has the entire spanse of your body nude and vulnerable to him does he take the time to pause, to look down at you with absolute adoration. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful.” 

He’s said those words to you a million times before. Consistently greeting you with them, muttering them in the dead of night, whispering them as he kisses you awake. But they never lose their weight. And certainly not now, as he’s looking down at you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen that freckle on your chest or the curve of your stomach barren before him. 

“Please, if you’re comfortable with it…” you start, voice laced with desperation, but he shakes his head. 

He’s full of interruptions tonight, “Consider me comfortable with anything unless stated otherwise for this moment, my sweet.” 

“Take off your clothes, Astarion.”

His giddy smile should annoy you. That smug satisfaction in finally, finally getting his way as he undresses himself at almost twice the speed that he had stripped you. And yet he knows you’re enjoying yourself just as much as he is. You’re reveling in drinking in the bare caricatures of his body, every inch and every curve exposed to you just as you are to him. And when his cool skin meets yours again, his body sinking right into that space between your thighs that you’ve granted to him, you let out a short gasp that reminds him that you want this just as badly as he does.

You’ve waited just as long as he has. 

It almost mirrors that night on his grave. The slow descent of his body against yours, the way he slides a leg up to spread your own even further for him as he crawls his way back home to your lips. Unlike that night, however, he isn’t taking quite as much care, his movements far faster and far more needy. 

He’s been waiting long enough. He’s denied himself long enough. 

It really doesn’t matter when the last time he had enjoyed sex had been, because all that he cares about is that here and now, in this moment with you, there’s not a trace of imperfections to taint his enjoyment. 

Cazador is dead. The brain has long since been defeated. You are both safe. 

As he sinks into your heat, the only thing on his mind is that contentment, overwhelmed with the feel and smell of just you. 

He’ll never be a slave again. Never be viewed as something to simply be used and disregarded again, if you have any say. And one day, some day, he’ll even feel the warmth of the sun again. Thanks to you.

But until that day, the warmth of your love is enough.

When you sigh his name out so delicately, jaw all but unhinging itself in bliss as your back arches in reaction to his touches, he knows he’s made the right choice. 

And he supposes he lied, in a way, earlier. 

You’re not that hard to please – not when it comes to him, at least. Not when it’s his hands trailing along your skin, not when it’s his lips and fangs nipping at every opportunity. And certainly not when it’s his name that’s being chanted like a prayer from your lips in time with every thrust, every stroke, every single movement with the sole purpose of making both of you come undone. 

Astarion no longer questions when the last time he enjoyed sex was in the aftermath of it all. With you, pressed into his side, sweaty forehead nuzzling his chest, the only thing he cares about is the next time he’ll be able to do so. 

“We’re still going to that reunion,” you murmur, half asleep, fading away from him quickly to fall into blissful unconsciousness. 

He almost doesn’t breathe in fear of disturbing you. He’ll waste the night away, laying here, still as a statue for your comfort. 

It’s no surprise when he refuses to put up a fight, instead his hand simply drawing soft stars across the back of your bare shoulder blades as he sighs, “Yes, dear. We will. Now sleep.”

“I love you.” 

The words tumble from your lips so carelessly, so easily and without hesitation, he nearly shakes you awake to hear them once more. Again and again, he needs to hear them, to be reassured that you feel for him as ardently as he does you. 

But he has the rest of your forever to hear them. So he lets you sleep, sending you away with a simple press of his lips to your temples as your breathing evens.

“And I love you, my dearest sun.”

[juuuulez]

showing them your party dress, and they judge you (thinking it’s slutty or they get jealous) and won’t come to the deannas party with you. you get drunk and they help u 😝😝😝 (comfort angst)

info: Rick Grimes x Reader, NSFW, sorta drunk sex, Spencer is a creep, unsafe sex/pulling out, p in v.

summary: After pissing you off over a comment about your outfit, Rick tries to prove your worth another way.

omg idk when this escalated into smut but it did, but thanks for the request!!! thought i’d show rick some love because he’s soooo dilf and there isn’t enough rick appreciation on this page

You wrap your hair around the curling iron, clamping down the hot metal and holding it in place. Tonight, Deanna is having a party for the new residents, and you’d been practically buzzing with excitement all day. Not only was Alexandria a miracle to come across, but they treated life with some semblance of normality.

“That the dress you’re wearin’?” A voice behind you asks, your gaze fluttering up to watch Rick through the mirror. He’s standing behind you, eyes scanning the dress you’d put on.

It was black, form-fitting and short. Paired with some kitten heels, you looked good enough to eat. Except, you’d thought it would illicit a bit more… excitement from your boyfriend.

“Yeah,” You agree, “Rosita found it for me. Said I’d look good in it.”

As if to prove your point, you turn around, giving a little spin in an almost childish manner. Rick stands there, stone faced, not betraying a single emotion.

“You do,” He finally lets up, “But is this the impression we wanna give?”

A response doesn’t come right away, silence filling the space between you as the words stew in your mind. They sound strangely negative, causing your brows to furrow into a little frown.

“C’mon, baby. You know what I mean.” Rick tries again, having sensed that he’s said something wrong.

But you’ve already turned away, continuing to primp your hair in the mirror. “Are you coming tonight?” You ask, completely avoiding his previous misstep for the sake of not becoming upset before the party.

“No, not tonight,” Rick sighs, “Got some shit to sort out.”

This one doesn’t get a reply either, and Rick knows that you aren’t pleased. So far, your relationship has been anything but normal. Back at the prison, he’d kept you at an arms length, finding your alluring nature and sweet smile threatening to his morals. Yet, over time, he’d let you in, and you’d wormed your way into his life.

“You could stay home, too. Wait for me. We’ll watch a movie when I get home.” He ends up suggesting, trying to alleviate your souring mood.

It’s fruitless, for you’re still persisting. “No. I want to party, like every other person in this town.”

“In that dress?” He questions once more.

You turn again, shooting the older man a glare. “Yes. Now leave, I’m getting ready, and you’re distracting me.” You essentially demand, and as not to get bitten, Rick obeys.

Part of you is pissed that he folded so easily, even though it was your bad temper. Regardless, you swore to have fun tonight, Rick or no Rick.

So, you finished doing your hair, even going so far as to put a little makeup on. It felt good, all of it, mainly because it just felt normal. You ventured from your house, trailing down the street to where the commotion was, eager to have a fun night out and remove Rick’s comment from your mind.

Though you claimed to be over it, your actions were saying otherwise.

Alcohol wasn’t commonplace during the apocalypse, at least not for your group. It wasn’t a necessity, and would only worsen the burden of surviving, having to recover from hangovers or be momentarily inebriated.

But tonight? You’d drink as much as you wanted to. Wine had never really been your favourite, but now, it was like liquid gold.

Maybe you were still annoyed at Rick, and you certainly were annoyed at Spencer, who kept talking to you at every possible opportunity. He didn’t like Rick, so in favour, you didn’t like him.

Everything turned into a blur at one point, and you would vaguely remember sitting down on the couch, nursing a cup of water in hand. Who gave you water? It didn’t really matter, for once more, Spencer had sat next to you.

He offered you another glass of wine, and stupidly, you took it.

“Ever get bored of playing with your old man?” He asked, lips upturned into a wicked grin, like the joke was supposed to be amusing. It wasn’t.

There’s a sickly feeling in your stomach, though it doesn’t stem from the alcohol, but guilt. “I need some air.” You end up mumbling, uncoordinatedly stumbling from the couch.

Spencer follows a few steps behind you, his hand on your arm with the feinted intention of helping.

“Without you!” You clarify in a drunken yell, messily yanking both heels from your feet, leaving them in the hallway while you make a break for the door.

Fortunately, Spencer gets the message.

Not that it mattered, for there was another face you didn’t want to see, waiting right outside.

Rick looked so good in the little police uniform they’d given him, with his clean shaven face and trimmed hair. It was a completely different man from the one you’d known, but delicious nonetheless.

“I don’t need your help, asshole.” You snap whilst faltering down the steps, barefoot on the pavement. Right now, he didn’t deserve the satisfaction of helping you, or knowing how good he looked.

“Yes you do, c’mon.” Rick persists, and when he moves to take your arm, you don’t protest. Maybe you are a little far gone. He gently leads you along, one hand wrapped around your shoulder, the other carefully tugging the bottom of your dress down a little more.

It’s a short walk back home, to the little picket-fenced house you’ve been living in. The instance you’re inside, you collapse on the couch, melting into the fabric and willing to pass out right then and there.

Rick kneels down on the ground, leaning in and removing your jewellery. Necklace, earrings, bracelet. Once they’re all set aside, he sits on the couch, the movement causing you to rise with a little frown.

“What’s wrong, baby?” He asks, large hands scooping under your thighs and manoeuvring your body into his lap.

When you only look down, he grips at your chin, forcing the eye contact. The frown deepens, though now out of defiance, still drunk and a little pissed off.

“We’ve spent so long bein’ dirty ‘n muddy ‘n gross..” You begin in a mumble, the words coming out as one long sigh. “I just wanted to feel sexy.”

“You are so sexy,” Rick urges, hand caressing your side. “Always.”

“Then you should’ve come to the party with me.” You retort, that sad look still on your face, and it takes everything in Rick not to kiss it off.

“I know, I know. I should’ve been there,” He agrees, “And I should’ve told you how damn good this dress looks on you.”

Your nose scrunches up in confusion, “I thought you didn’t like it.”

Rick finally releases his grip on your chin, skating both hands down the smooth curve of your sides, all nicely contained in that skimpy dress. It’s like a perfect package, one he wants to unwrap.

“You’re fuckin’ gorgeous, baby. I love it,” He reveals, eyes locked onto yours, “But I wanna be the only one who can love it.”

A grin finally grows on your lips, still all pink and glossy from the makeup. Even in your drunken state, there’s something alluring about the way you lean closer, breath fanning over Rick’s lips.

“Then prove it.” You whisper.

Like a moth to a flame, Rick bites. He closes the gap, savouring your sloppy kisses as you devour his lips, hands fumbling to cup either side of his smooth face. Somehow, kissing him felt even better drunk, like everything else just melted away.

Disconnecting, Rick trailed purposeful kisses down your neck, sucking brief marks into your skin, staking his claim. He peeled the straps of the dress down, pushing the fabric down under the swell of your breasts, until they were completely bare to him.

You gasped as his lips trapped a nipple, fondling at the supple flesh whilst worshipping you with his mouth. But you were already strung tight, not having the patience to deal with a night of teasing.

Fingers hooked into his belt, painted nails scratching at the denim as you failed to muster enough coordination to unzip him. “Please.. please, Rick.” You whined.

“I know, baby. Don’t have’ta beg tonight.” He assures you in that rough, yet soothing tone, taking over and pulling his cock free of its restraints.

Rick pushes the dress up over your hips, the soft fabric now simply a band around your waist. You’re eager to take him, arms wrapping around his broad shoulders whilst you hover over his thighs, allowing Rick to line you up and make the slide easier.

The drunken haze has faded some, replaced by a blanket of arousal as you slowly ride him, fingers gripping at his shirt. You’re saying something, begging probably, but it doesn’t make any sense. Not that it matters.

Though you’re set on riding him, Rick knows you’re probably sore from those heels all night, so he grips tight at your hips to flip you over, drilling you down into the plush couch.

“Fuck..” You gasp, head lolling to the side as Rick bites into the flesh of your neck, body completely surrounding you as his thrusts become powerful and short, angled up right where you need it.

“I know, baby. You can take it.” He grunts, using all his strength to draw you closer to the edge.

By now, he knows your tells. The tightening of your cunt as it squeezes him, the way your legs wrap around his slim waist. Whatever words make it from your mouth, though unintelligible, take on a whiny pitch.

Rick snakes his hand between you, pressing firm, tight circles around your clit that make you gasp and squirm under him. “Quietly, baby. You can do it. Let go for me.”

And that you do, hips bucking upwards as your peak finally hits, muffling your cries into his shoulder. The pulsating around his dick causes Rick to finally falter, managing a few more staggered, sharp thrusts before roughly pulling out and spilling onto your stomach. Spurts of white cum coat the bunched up dress, some even reaching the underside of your tits.

“Fuck,” Rick pants, catching his breath. “Looks like you can’t wear this dress anyway.”

[cosmicjoke]

So I wanted to just take a moment to elaborate a little more on Levi's leadership during the Battle of Heave and Earth, because I think it's so important to understand just how vital Levi was to that final battle and, ultimately, toward the alliances' victory. Everyone was vital, of course. Everyone contributed in ways indispensable. But I think Levi's role was particularly crucial, and I want to explain why.

They wouldn't have won without Levi.

Full stop. They wouldn't have won.

I spoke before about how so often we've heard criticisms of Levi and his choice to let Erwin die, accusations hurled at him of having "robbed" humanity of the only leader that could save it, and I spoke about how those accusations, in the aftermath of Levi's contribution to that final battle, fall so utterly flat, because Levi became the leader that humanity needed in the moment when it counted most.

Armin was out of commission for most of the final battle. Of course he was doing his own, important work toward ensuring victory by convincing Zeke to stop wallowing in self-pity and actually do something (Zeke gets no credit from me, he let 80% of the population die because he felt sorry for himself). But my point is, Armin, despite being the Commander, wasn't able to lead during most of the battle because he was trapped in the Paths.

Levi took the reigns, then, without even needing to be asked or told. He simply took command, and it was his decision making that lead to their victory.

But before that, he fought alongside all of them as simply another soldier, putting his body and life on the line to take down as many titans as he could in the attempt to clear a path back to Armin. Levi was literally half-dead during this battle. His body was beyond compromised. He was suffering internal bleeding, likely major trauma to his organs, half blind, his dominant hand half-mangled, and later, his leg likely broken and torn apart and open. His ability to fight, and to fight so well and with so much strength, was nothing, then, but pure will on his part. Pure determination and refusal to quit. He never gave up, not once, despite his body needing him to.

When he sees the tied of the battle not going their way, then, a path back to Armin seemingly impossible, he takes charge and calms everyone down, tells everyone to stop and think. When it becomes clear that they won't be able to simply retrieve Armin and win this thing, when it becomes clear that killing Eren is the only way to actual victory, Levi is the first to organize everyone into accepting that bleak and awful reality, and to lay out a plan of attack toward accomplishing it. He breaks their team into two units and instructs them on what to do, one to go after Armin, the other, Eren's neck. This was Levi's plan, Levi's decision, and it's largely why they were able to succeed in their goals.

And then later, when he heartbreakingly thinks of himself as a burden, as someone who will just get in the way, he disproves his own self-criticism by stepping up and once again taking command in what truly was the most critical moment of the battle.

He takes out Zeke, of course, which stops the Rumbling. But then Armin's initial plan, of using the blast from his Colossal Titan transformation to kill Eren, fails, and the worm responsible for Eren's power threatens to reach him and start the Rumbling back up. It begins to release the same gas which Zeke had used on Ragako Village to turn the Eldian's into pure titans, and in that moment, with hundreds of Eldian's on the ground, it would have proven the end of the battle for all of them if Levi hadn't acted as quickly and with as much clarity of thought as he had. They all would have died, and the entire population of the world would have been wiped out.

Nobody else realized what was about to happen to them, too dazed and complacent and stricken with hopelessness, even after Connie posited what the gas could be. Only Levi understood what was about to happen, and only Levi took action in that moment to prevent total disaster. And then, while everyone else is standing around, paralyzed by their horror at the realization of what's happening, overcome with grief and fear, in that moment, Levi didn't hesitate. Like he once told the 104th, if disaster struck right now, he would act faster than any of them, and that's exactly what he did.

He understood the situation within seconds, and understood within seconds what needed to be done to avoid total catastrophe. He understood that he and Mikasa and the titan shifters were the only ones who would be immune to the gas, and so it was up to them to take action and end Eren's life, or all would be lost. He understood in that moment that they would be forced to abandon their family and comrades on the ground, abandon them to their fate of being turned into pure titans, in order to save what remained of the rest of the people trapped down there, and he didn't hesitate. He didn't falter. He pushed aside his own grief and horror, his own driving need to save everyone, in order to save who he could, just like he's always done. He armed himself with their only remaining thunder spear and ordered with commanding force for Mikasa and Pieck to get onto Falco's back, for them to take to the air, because he understood on the ground, they would all die, and if they were to have any chance of victory, they needed to be up high. He was able to ignore their stunned and frozen grief and initial refusal to move and act, and overcome it with his own refusal to give in. He made them act in the moment when it mattered most. And when Mikasa was overcome with grief at what was happening and the prospect of killing Eren, Levi refused to let her lose herself, screaming in her face to get it together, reminding her again and again that only they could stop Eren now, only they could save what was left of humanity.

And finally, with his failing body and waning strength, he fought side by side with Mikasa, battling through what seemed literal hell on earth to give her the opening she needed in order to deliver the killing blow to Eren and end it once and for all.

Mikasa wouldn't have been able to do what she did if not for Levi. If not for Levi's quick thinking, if not for Levi's orders, if not for his command, if not for his battling side by side with her, clearing a path for her. If not for his own sacrifice, giving up everything, having to leave behind the people he loved for people he didn't even know. Levi made that final push toward victory possible.

Levi essentially took over for Erwin when no one else could. He took over for Hange when no one else could. He became the Commander of the Survey Corps in that final battle. He became the one who lead them to victory.

I think understanding that is so important. For anyone who ever tries to accuse Levi of not caring about humanity, or accuse Levi of dooming humanity because he let Erwin die, you're wrong, you're so wrong. Because Levi became every bit the commander Erwin ever was in the moment when it mattered most. He refused to let humanity fall. He lead humanity to victory.

[sorrowfulrosebud]

You want wolf/puppy Bakugou asks? You gottem! (Hopefully I do this right lol)

Wolf/puppy hybrid Bakugou who is aggressive towards anything and everyone. Will growl and show his teeth if someone even looks at him funny, even though they were just glancing around and just looked at him for a second. Will scare off or threaten other hybrids that try to be friendly, exempt maybe for his "friends".

Except for reader. That aggressive boy will act up and start fights while out and about but when he's home? He'll just wanna throw and rip his toys, and want cuddles.

You better have a hand on him at all times, whether petting or not, cause if you ain't he's stopping ya in whatever you're doing, good time or not, for some affection and attention.

Pls give it to him, he just wants to feel like someone cares about him after all he's been through (If ya don't then I will, just saying)

WAAAAA I LOVE THIS 😭💕💕🫶

He’s such a bratty, whiny little shit 💀💀.

All big teeth and growls, ears pinned and hackles raised until you squeak his favourite chicken and all of a sudden he’s like ‼️‼️ Chicken ‼️‼️ Where ‼️‼️

He’s such a grumpy bastard too. He’ll eye you sitting comfortably on the couch, casually reading or watching TV before he’s borderline running and TACKLING you for cuddles. He will pin you down, huffing into your neck. Katsuki will stare at you with carmine eyes before breathing on you, meat in his breath from the steak sandwich you made him.

You gag and choke, trying to push your fatass puppyboy off you as he cackles and puts his deadweight on you. He just sits there, staring at you as you try to get comfy. Will deadass pick up your hand and plonk it on his head and shake it grumpily.

“Ohhhh, you wanted pets brat? Hmmm, maybe you don’t deserve them,” you grin slyly. Katsuki growled.

“Bi..bitch,” he let out in broken puppy speech, threatening to graze your ticklish tummy with his claws. You have to bite back a chortle at his grumpy face, playing with his ears as he blinks slowly at you. You adore watching his face melt in pleasure, his thick and fluffy tail hitting the couch.

“Katsukiii, here boy!!” You call your puppyboy as you came home. Katsuki looked up, pretending to be nonchalant as his tail beat back and forth. He greeted you with a chuff, eyes locking on to the bag in your hand.

His teeth curled up, recognising the logo from the pet store you rescued him from. A low growl left him, his hackles raising.

“Hey, none of that. I got you a surprise!” You tell him happily, sitting on the couch.

Katsuki slunk closer to you, eyes not moving from the bag. You tut and roll your eyes. You did have to use the “I got you a surprise” gimmicks few times to give him his flea and worming tablets, so you could understand his feelings. You pat the couch next to you as he sits with hesitation.

“Okay, now close your eyes!” You coo, sighing when Katsuki growls.

“Look, I know the past few times have been crap because you refuse to take your pills, but this time is genuinely a nice surprise that I think you’ll like,” you promise him. Katsuki glares at you as his ruby eyes flutter close.

His pointy ears hears you dig in the bag, before grabbing his hands gently and placing the object in it. He opens his eyes, before they widened completely.

“Tada! I’ve seen how grumpy you’ve been since you broke your last rope, so I got you a new one!” You exclaim happily, taking in his slightly pleased look. You go to take the toy from him, delighted when you hear the playful growl.

“Let me at least take the tags off, sweetie, and then we can play,” you said, going to the kitchen. Although your pup struggled with his speech, his bouncy and increasingly riled up body language expressed his immense gratitude. You snip the last of the tags off, before handing one end to Katsuki.

He grabs it with his teeth, pulling it back with a playful snarl. His lips were curled with a slight smile, his eyes bright as he played. You pulled with all of your strength, desperately trying to keep up with your puppy’s own immense strength.

You are not allowed to be distracted with him AT ALL on walks. No phones at all, you have to be fully concentrated on him. He’s an aggressive species of dog, despite his love for squeaky chickens and dog treats.

He requires a muzzle when he’s out, to guarantee the safety of everyone there. He lowkey pouts when you have to put it on, making you kiss his crinkled brows as you click it behind his head. You have to keep a close, close, CLOSE eye on him. But a few years down the line, he does something that surprises you.

Imagine going on a walk with him, his leash curled tightly in your palm as you patrol the neighbourhood. You have to pull the leash every once in a while, and he does still bark at your neighbour’s hybrids, but he’s a good boy. A very sharp contrast to younger him, who would fight his way out of your grip.

You were on your phone, ordering him some more puppy toys when you stopped. You hadn’t even noticed you dropped his leash until Katsuki was stood right in front of you with the leash. Turns out whilst you had been paying, he had continued walking and didn’t know you had stopped holding him 🥺

He grunted through the muzzle, holding the leash and placing it into your hands.

“No stop. You hold.” He said firmly, turning as you stood in shock. A smile overtakes your features. 5 years ago and the little shit would have ran away, brawling and attacking the next person who saw him. You feed him a treat through the muzzle and pet him, cooing about how much of a good boy he is as his tail wagged like crazy.

He’s such a good boy 😭💕

[imagine-shenanigans]

I've got severe brain worms from @391780 's fic Into Your Veins, and now I'm thinking of all the different scenarios where the 141 are also monsters in the apocalypse. like. obsessively. Also fat/chubby reader because mmmmmm yaes <3

Also this is basically just rambles and ranting over ideas for like, however long this got i didnt actually check teehee

We already have vampire simon so I won't touch on that because that is Specifically Their Brain Worms but I can't stop laughing every single time over the sunflower seeds incident (and every other similar one).

//

Soap as a werewolf is soooooo funny to me. Like he's constantly in this battle of "Don't swallow don't swallow don't swallow" whenever he rips a zombie in half with his teeth in wolf form and then confusion as to why people would think he's possibly infected. "Wdym I'm infected I'm just a little guy. I'm so cute. I wouldn't ever do anything. Smiles." He can't cover distance like Ghost or Gaz can, and sure he doesn't have the same authority that Price does, but he's a damn good soldier, and he's got some of the most sheer brute force on the team. So when Price tells him to start scouting in an area for survivors, he does! He's very thorough, combs over the area with a precision that would make most soldiers weep with jealousy.

He ends up scenting reader before he sees them, watches their little house from a distance. He's not patient like Simon, but he does watch reader for awhile, watches them surviving, all on their own in this little plot of land. Ends up watching your plush hips sway as you set out the laundry to dry. He's mesmerized, as he watches the sweat drip down your skin while you reinforce a few of your traps, go over the house with a fine toothed comb. You can't see him in the shadows, but by god is he seeing you. (And your ass - god he can't stop staring.)

He's not nearly patient enough to wait, so he waltzes right up, thinking his charming smile and accent is enough to win him some brownie points. He's halfway through a pickup line, maybe, when you level a shotgun at his face, completely unamused.

He's in love.

You refuse to go with him, but Price gave him orders and there's no WAY he's letting you go, not after he's seen your thighs and imagined himself using them as earmuffs. Not after he's thinking of a cute domestic life, providing for you like a good mate, and look at how precious you are, threatening him and -

and you shoot him.

Right in the chest, and thank god for the fact that it takes more than a few bullets to kill him because he's tearing through his skin in an instant, bones cracking and sinew melding as he quickly drops into his wolf form (which, jesus christ he's fucking HUGE) to help ease some of the pain and kickstart his healing process. He snarls right in your face and snaps your damn gun in half with his teeth before he tells you he'll be back in a week. (later, he feels bad, certainly, but only for frightening you)

You freak out, because JESUS CHRIST WEREWOLVES ARE REAL TOO????

Johnny's back in a week as promised, after spending a few days in bed and eating anything he could get his hands on all while gushing about the pretty little soft thing he's bringing back. He even goes out of his way to bring you a gift!!! He hunts down a deer on the way through the woods near your home, bringing dinner so he can butcher it and you can cook it because of course he's bringing you back for practical reasons but if he's going to court you no you don't need to know that.

You're gone when he comes to the home, every last item packed away and shoved into the back of the car he'd seen you drive. He's furious that his hard work will go to waste, so he helps himself to the rest of what you've got in the house and decides to store everything away for when he's on his way back to base. Fights his urge to track you down only for long enough to be practical, and then he's on the hunt.

It doesn't take him long to find you - he can run faster than your car can go cautiously while trying not to attract attention from a horde of zombies, and even though he's living he doesn't attract the same attention from the freaks that you do in a car with a gun. He tracks you down in no time flat, smiling as he taps on your window where you're parked inconspicuously to catch a few minutes of sleep.

When you scream, he laughs and waves, threatens with one clawed hand to slash the tires if you don't come out. Practicality wins in this case, and he has a long talk with you about coming back with him. He's sure he's just about convinced you when you slap him, throwing something at him that has him howling in white-hot pain. He can hear your apologies through sobs as you push him and he tangles with whatever you've thrown at him, trying to get it off in a blind panic, and you've driven off before he can stop you.

When he finally has a moment to breathe, the damn thing off of him, he realizes you'd tied together a small net of necklace chains - silver. necklace chains.

He's as angry as he as endeared, really. It's a game now, of fetch, of tag, he's not sure - he just ends up changing pace, gently herds you back in the direction of the base like a cattle dog. You're furious when he finally pops your tires when you're a good two days away from the base, just hefts you up on a shoulder and pats your ass while he walks with you. He's so smug about it too, and by all accounts, he's won your hand in marriage by finding you, whether or not you agree yet.

//

Now, I'm not as familiar with Gaz as I'd like to be (because I got introduced with Ghoap stuff for my entry into the fandom) so please pardon if my characterization is off but I do love him dearly and eat up all content I end up seeing of him.

I'm slightly biased with Gaz being a harpy because I just love the idea of him being a bird of prey like a peregrine falcon (and i think its bluegiragi who has the monster au of him as a harpy?) or a shifter of some sort like a panther or a cheetah (i'm biased towards cheetah actually, because I love the pictures/videos of cheetahs getting emotional support golden retrievers).

Since my idea for this isn't EITHER of those options, please consider reader putting spike traps on the roof for a bird Gaz like stores put up on their signs. He gets real angry about it for a couple days and then figures out exactly how/where to land so he can perch on your roof anyway, scaring the shit out of you when he's just sitting there, chin in his hands, with a shit eating grin when you go to make sure everything's alright on the roof.

Anyway, for this I'm actually thinking fae Gaz - he's been living amongst humans for as long as he can really remember. He's not a changeling, but his mum was fae and she loved his dad. He's visited the fae realm once or twice (and, as convincing as his mum is when he visits her, he nearly forgets about the time dissonance every single visit - none are as bad as the first time, when he had no clue about it, and ended up being gone for fifty years.)

He's sent to greet you when Ghost majestically fails, and Cap'n doesn't quite want to set Soap loose on the poor reader (yet). Ends up falling in love with how clever you are, soft hands slipping into gloves as you pile leaves over the thin nets over the punji pits and bear traps. He's military trained across multiple decades, he's seen all kinds of war (even though he's still relatively young in comparison - he stopped physically aging somewhere in his twenties, but he's barely been alive for like, fifty years) and he's seen all kinds of tricks.

He watches you pour over old books that you've either scavenged or already had, learning how to make simple, but effective traps. The older types of traps are such a clever idea when combined with new ones. The type doesn't matter much to zombies, but the combination of different types will keep humans (and others) on their guard.

He really really really intends to talk to you, instead of lingering in the shadows like a creep.

You end up seeing him, and through sheer luck (or wit, Gaz isn't honestly sure) when he asks that you give him your name, you say; "Give me your name first."

He's stuck at that one, because Gaz has spent years talking around subjects but this pretty little human just points a shotgun at him and demands his attention. He can't even think to talk around the reason he's there when he changes the subject awkwardly, and you insist on his name.

He can't give you his name, his power, not even his nickname, so it ends with him awkwardly leaving.

He's the absolute butt of the joke when he gets back to base after slipping into the trees (so embarrassed that he doesn't take the time to make sure you can't see him do it) and goes straight back to base utilizing a mushroom circle and the sheer willpower to not get distracted as he slips between realms. Makes a week long trek into an hour's worth of walking.

When he returns, he knocks politely, eyeing the newly replaced doorknob.

When he touches it, out of curiosity, he's gobsmacked to find out you've either found a new knob, or cast the old one in cold iron. He touches it three full times in complete disbelief, watches the skin on his hands grow irritated and blister.

You smirk when you open the door, make some shitty joke that he's pretty sure is a twilight reference that would make Ghost furious, and then you tell him you figured it out pretty quickly.

In comparison to Ghost and Soap, his romance is altogether extremely easy - he just keeps visiting every single day, calls you a nickname when you won't give him an actual answer.

He admires your caution, and falls just a little more in love when you call him something stupid like mushroom man.

In the end, what ends up convincing reader, I think, is that he fully gives them his name. It's akin to a proposal, and Gaz isn't quite sure how he feels when you don't realize it as you roll his name - Kyle Garrick on your tongue, testing it. You ask if you can keep calling him Mushie Man and some other stupid nickname and he laughs, presses a kiss to your temple for it. Says it's only fitting, and whispers your full name like a prayer.

He lets you stay in your home a little longer, as long as you need really, laces a misdirection hex into the branches that'll really only work on humans. He comes by every day, no matter what.

When you finally agree, he grabs your face and kisses you like you've given him the sun and stars and hung the moon just to illuminate his way.

//

For Price, I'm going to say dragon price because mmmm hot. Anyway I like to think it's a little bit of everything.

Ghost is the first - you find out really quickly that he fucking hates the counting trick you pull, so you're sure to carry a pocket full of something small just to piss him off if he gets too close. When you don't make eye contact (whether intentional or because you hate it) he's absolutely bewildered that this Soft Little Thing in the woods has so effectively blocked him from getting his job done initially that when he complains to Price, he puts his foot down. Says if Price thinks is so funny, he should send Johnny or Gaz out, see if they can do better.

And Price, sides hurting from laughing so much, agrees to make it Soap's problem next.

Soap returns, a net-like burn across his forearm from where you'd thrown tied together necklace chains at him. He's pissed, whines and moans for hours about how bad it hurts, and Price just snorts and tells him Shouldn't have tried to drag them out, then.

When intimidation and brute force don't work, Price lets Gaz have a go at it.

The man is practically radiating smugness as he goes to win, and Price is crying with laughter when Gaz comes back, his hands blistered and pride bruised. He clears his throat and says I think ah, I think they've just gone ahead and put every guard on the house they can think of. He does not tell anyone that the human ended up catching him in a net for half an hour afterwards, chiding him for the full thirty minutes about trying to open someone's door without asking.

(But Price knows.)

He ends up saying he's going to go deal with it himself to "Show them how it's done."

Really though, he's absolutely smitten with the idea of you. He knows that, given the time and will, his boys would absolutely bring you back - but he doesn't want that anymore. He has to see for himself the cute soft little human in the woods that's managed to catch all three of his best soldiers off guard because all three of them underestimated you.

He can't very well let anyone on base know (especially the civilians) what he is, so he waits until the dead of night to start flying - only does so when he's well past the point of being seen, even if it means he has to fly in his hybrid form, which is a little awkward when he doesn't do it as often.

He's a perfect gentleman when he walks up to your home at daybreak, letting his form go back to human.

He avoids every trap, tripwire, and camera that Simon and Johnny and Kyle had all warned him about so you don't have to spend your precious time and energy fixing them. He knocks on the door and waits until you open it, introduces himself as Captain John Price, love.

Apologies for the heavy handed attempts of his men as he stands on your doorstep. When you slam the door in his face he simply sighs and knocks again. And again, and again, until you finally relent and open the door back up.

He smiles, and asks if he can come in - you say no, and he smiles.

Love, if I wanted to I could push past you, I'm asking to be polite.

You freeze at that, trying to think, trying to evaluate. You're clever, he thinks with a pleased hum, half lidded eyes staring down at you. You sigh, and relent, finally - knowing that whatever battle that you'd be fighting uphill could at least be done over the breakfast you were starting to cook, and you didn't want to waste it.

Something twinges in John's chest as he sits at the table, and decides, like the rotten, greedy bastard he knows he is, that you're his. And not his like the rest of the people he's got, but his. You'll be his, no matter how long it takes him.

He lets you cook in silence, enjoying the mundane domesticity of it all, tucks into the plate of food gratefully, and feels like he's home.

After breakfast, John takes the time to ask you questions. About your past, about your hobbies outside of survival, how many things you've got that'll be coming with. When you remind him you haven't agreed, he chuckles and smooths a hand over your hair and reminds you that he hasn't asked.

You finally ask him what he is, and he blows a mote of smoke at you, watches the realization hit you before you go blank. A fucking dragon? You ask.

A fucking dragon, he responds.

John is extremely amused when you tell him to wait on the doorstep, and you go upstairs for something. When you come back down, you hand him a box full of jewelry (he almost laughs when he notices the amount of silver chains missing.)

He hands you the box back and curls a finger beneath your chin, calls you a silly girl/boy/pet and tells you that not all the stories are true. In this case, they are, of course- but he doesn't need to tell you that he hoards people, not things. That his hoard is every single person on base - doesn't tell you that his most treasured parts of his hoard are the three strong men who work directly with him, that he intends to keep them for as long as he lives, which will still be a damn long time coming, even if he's been around since before the middle ages.

You'll be his favorite of all though, he thinks.

He gives you a week, but tells you that his boys will keep an eye on you, make sure you're still there every day until he personally comes to escort you home. When you remind him, stubbornly, you are home, he laughs, and presses a kiss to your forehead while you stand there, bewildered.

In between that moment, and when you get back to base with him, I can't decide if its better if he ends up singlehandedly destroying a small horde of zombies with fire breath as the pits you've got full of traps fill up, or if it's better if he shows up with a box truck and a few men and they all end up moving you out of the house without asking. Maybe it's a mix of both - you decide!

But regardless, it ends exactly as he wants - you, tucked up into his lap as he reads reports and issues orders. He skips the dating and goes straight into being your husband - makes some sort of quip about being far too old (fashioned) to entertain the thought and goes straight to being married like "it used to be." Even though for a dragon he's still kinda young, hasn't even hit his comparative forties yet, actually. Even though it doesn't really matter, because as far as he's aware dragons don't die of old age so much as they die of other factors beyond their control. It's why he's so carefully cultivated his life towards survival thus far.

John lets you do whatever you want to keep you busy, the only real stipulation is that you come home to him at the end of the day. He's even quite respectful, really. He never touches you without your consent, aside from placing soft kisses on your temple or forehead, or cuddling up to you in your shared bed. (Which you say you only entertain because he's warm, and there's no heating in his room. But really, you love it when he holds you, and lets you hold him with no questions asked, all under the pretense of being half-asleep.)

He acts like he has all the time in the world for you to come around - and he does.

You'll be awfully sore later when you realize he's bound your life to his, even angrier when your teeth adjust and you can start seeing better. He'll pretend not to notice the changes at first to see what you think, and then he'll help you through all of them, cooing and sighing and rubbing into sore muscles as you learn how to control changing into your half-dragon form. Maybe in a couple hundred years you'll figure out how to fully transform into a dragon - maybe not.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 30 - Diamond

@jegulus-microfic March 30 Word count 992

Previous part First part

Peter cowered in the middle of the cell. James and Sirius stood in front of him, glaring down at the pitiful man. 

Evan had put a block on Peters's magic while he’d been unconscious so he couldn’t transform into his animagus form. 

Sirius twirled Peters's wand in his hand, looking eerily like Regulus. Peter didn’t stand a chance. 

They’d decided, in case anything went wrong, that it was best if only the two of them were seen by Peter. Remus was supposed to be with the werewolves. Regulus, the Rosier twins and Barty were supposed to support Voldemort. If Peter somehow wormed his way out of this, he could potentially ruin everything they had so far accomplished and put them all in danger.  

“James, please!” Peter begged from the ground. “I was scared. I didn’t know what I was doing.” James clenched his jaw. Peter was lying to him. He caught the back of Sirius’s robes to stop him from leaping on Peter. 

“You knew exactly what you were doing, Peter when you got me to reveal that Sirius was still alive. You took me out to lunch and wheedled it out of me, and then you went straight to your master and spilled your guts. How could you betray me? How could you betray Sirius?” He was spitting by the end of his tirade.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. The Dark Lord he—he threatened my life if I didn’t do as he said.” Peter was crying now. Fat tears dripped down his face and turned the stones beneath him black.

“And Sirius would die if Voldemort decides to send someone after him because of the information you fed him.” He had to stop as his voice began to feel thick. 

“We were your brothers, Peter! We would have done anything for you! We would have died for you. You could have come to us if you were scared. But you know what? I don’t think you were sacred. I don’t think he did threaten you. I think you went to him yourself. You always were a little rat.” Sirius pounced, his hands curling into claws as he attacked the screaming Peter. 

James dragged his friend off the quivering mess on the floor. 

“Sirius, calm down. We need to find out what he knows.” James whispered harshly into Sirius’s ear. Sirius growled and spat on the floor beside Peter. 

“Then, let’s hurry up and do it, James. I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself from turning into Padfoot and using my teeth.” Sirius gnashed his teeth together as though Padfoot was already trying to break through. James ran a calming hand down Sirius’s back, and his friend immediately unpuffed his chest and backed away from Peter a step. 

“Come on then, Peter. What else have you told Voldemort?” James’s voice was cold. He’d never been betrayed like this before. Even Regulus had never hidden his intention to join the Death Eaters, though, with Regulus, it was because his mother had given him no other choice. Peter had had many options, and he still chose Voldemort. 

“N-n-nothing. I haven’t told him anything else.” Peter whimpered. 

“Liar,” Sirius snarled. His eyes twitched as he stared at Peter. It took James a second to realise Sirius was performing legimency on Peter. 

After a few minutes, Sirius turned away and strode out of the cell. James conjured heavy manacles and chained Peter to the wall. He found Sirius curled up in Remus’s lap. He looked up when James walked in. His eyes were dull. The usual diamond gleam and sparkle that resided there had been ripped away by whatever he’d seen inside Peter’s head. 

“He told them everything.” He croaked. “Everything we’ve ever said about our assignments, everything from the meetings.” He let out a sob. “James, he was planning to help death eaters get into your parent’s house.” James felt the blood drain from his face and Regulus’s arms wrapping around him. 

“How—how far along was his plan?” He choked out, looking back at the door he’d just come through. 

“Not very. He hadn’t even mentioned it to Voldemort yet. I think they’re safe.” Sirius still looked panicked. They were his parents as much as James’s. 

“Anything else?” James asked, not sure if he wanted to hear anymore. 

“I was right. He joined them voluntarily.” James felt any loyalty he felt for Peter slip away. That man wasn’t his friend, and he couldn’t believe he’d ever trusted him. 

“What do you want to do?” Regulus asked, holding him close. James bit back the pain. He’d deal with it later. 

“We need to give him to Moody and make sure he knows he can’t make a deal with him.” 

It took some juggling, but they eventually managed to get Peter to one of the Order safe houses, and Moody appeared moments later, wand raised. 

“What are you doing here without permission?” He barked, still not lowering his wand. 

“We caught your spy. You’re welcome.” Sirius growled at him. 

“That wasn’t the plan, Black.” They were glaring at each other. 

“Yeah, well. He was planning on killing the Potters, among other things. He went to Voldemort and asked to join them. It’s time he was caught.” Moody didn’t argue. Effie and Monty Potter were loved by all, and even the grizzled Alastor Moody didn’t want to see anything bad happen to them. 

“Fine, I’ll get the rest of the information out of him and find somewhere to keep him.” He grabbed Peter’s shoulder and began shoving him further into the house. 

“No deals, Mad-Eye.” James’s tone was a warning. Moody scrutinised James from head to toe and snorted through his nose. 

“Fine, no deals.” 

James and Sirius went to the Potters house, needing to see they were safe and hug them. James had a quick conversation with Regulus, explaining what had happened between them and Moody, and then he was in Effie’s arms. 

Final part

[extraordinarybennyyy]

marvellous time ruining everything

pedro pascal x reader

tw: none

"Am I fat?" 

The compelling, indisputable and unambiguous question left the Chilean actor speechless, his dark eyes darting between you and your reflection in the mirror. Your long skirt billowed around your ankles, swollen belly carrying the bloom of your everlasting love, light glinting on your earrings.  Such a glowing and dazzling creature, yet heartless for letting him face a question without a proper, right answer. Femme fatale. 

A bomb unleashing a war.

Pedro stopped drinking from the straw, tasting the green juice on his lips. The rays of the Sun filtered through the window curtains of Oscar's house, creating a picture of shadows and lights as if you were a famous painting, a Mona Lisa. 

His heart was beating fast both from how charming you looked, glowing and shining with the child inside you and from the question still lingering inside the room, like a dark cloud threatening the weather. 

"Pedro?"

"¿Qué?"  He pursued his lips and started drinking his juice once again nonchalantly, even if the box was already empty. An image of his mind at that moment, one could say.

"I asked you something."

"Umh."

You swivel around to face him, hands anchored to your hips, stars shining in your eyes. The hair framing your features perfectly fell on your shoulders like Niagara's falls, your painted lips shaping that question once more. Pedro felt like a kid in trouble, his mind processing an excuse to get out of the terrible situation. 

Of course you had gained a little bit of weight. It was reasonable and obvious, the opposite would have been weird and left him as a worrying mess. And, of course, it didn't mean that he loved you less. Pedro loved you, the essence of you,  the feeling of you. He would have loved you in every shape and form, worshiping you like a goddess. He would have even loved you if you were a worm, as he told you countless times to answer your weird question.

However - 

Pedro had learnt the lesson the hard way. A few months back before even knowing you were pregnant- which seemed like years and years ago, he had noticed your little weight gain and roundness when you complained about clothes not fitting in anymore. Inconsolable tears and sobs filled the house for the entire day and more, the ticket for an unwanted concert. 

That's why that question weighed a little bit more than others. What was he supposed to do? Lie and make you happy or tell you the truth and face the aftermath of it? It sounded like the stupid games his nieces made him play sometimes, where he always ended up choosing the wrong thing. Like that time he wanted  Eric the asshole to be nice and heroic but Pedro eventually let him die while falling  into the void. 

Your expectant eyes were still looking at him, both hands on your belly. White lies are good ones, like candies, he told himself, and the last thing he wanted was seeing you cry. And unleash a bomb. 

That's why he raised his head confidently, acting lessons helping him go through it, a little shaky breath leaving his lips before actually answering. "No." 

An unreadable and indecipherable expression portrayed on your face. You were a lock and he was the adventurous archeologist who had to find the code to open it. Pedro felt like Indiana Jones for a brief moment and was ready to flash you a smile to give strength to his statement, when-

Out of nowhere, like the annoying know-it-all first of the class child telling the teachers everything the others did, muppet-like Oscar Isaac  appeared behind Pedro's left shoulder, uttering his non-requested opinion. "You hesitated." 

The bomb exploded.

[rags-writes]

141 helps you move headcanons

This is in honor of my own move, I'm so excited!!! Don't forget to follow me.

Captain Price-

As soon as he catches wind about your move he takes over

Plans everything to the last detail

Calls a truck company that he knows the military will pay for.

Order the other to come and help (they would anyway.)

Gets there like 30 min before the time you plan on

Has a clipboard, marker, tape and extra boxes in his truck.

Luagh at Ghost's very concerning jokes

Makes sure everything done by the time the moving truck is supposed to be there

Yells at the moving truck guys for being late and gets a discount

Cook everyone dinner at your new place.

Is the reason you didn't panic about the move.

Ghost-

Is the only one who didn't plan on help before price told him to but mostly because he didn't know you were moving

What did you expect he doesn't talk a lot much less listen unless it's a misson to you guys

He get there 15 minutes earlier then the plan time,

he doesn't let anyone know he there untill you walk into a room and he scares you half to death just by standing there

He starts in the living room and once it's all packed he move on

He won't pack your bedroom or your bathroom up

Threaten Gaz and Soap if they break any of your stuff that he'll break them

The frist thing he said to Soap made you luagh"You’re not completely useless." "You can always serve as a bad example."

The one at make you ask him to stop was "What’s worse than biting into an apple and discovering a worm?" "Biting into an apple and discovering half a worm."

He make the other two help out at your new place, mostly soap.

Soap-

Complain when Price tells him to help you move

He was definitely planning on helping you, he just like give everyone a hard time

Does show up 15 minutes late

But he brought coffee which would have least everyone frustrated if he was the first one to do so.

Can't stay in the same room even if it would save his life.

You see him in the kitchen but five minutes later he's in the living room

Loves to pester Ghost but runs away once Ghost start making jokes

Start sing and gets everyone but Ghost to join in

Does try to leave after the mover truck leaves but Ghost drags him to your new place

He ends up passing out on your couch at the new place

Gaz-

He shows up on time with coffee

Making fun of price for drinking black coffee as he sip his suger with a hint of coffee

Won't make fun of Ghost (just a little sraced of him.)

Pulls prank like take the duck tape from Price without him noticing and puts it near Soap

2atch from across the room laughing, as Price yells at Soap for stealing his duck tape.

Ghost catches him on the third time but doesn't say anything.

Tells everyone he getting pizza for lunch and head out rhe door.

Soap yells "thank you" but Gaz just calls back "you're the one paying for it" as he hold up Soap's wallet

Helps installs your security with Ghost at your new place

A/N: If you like this don't forget to follow me, so when I open my request up you can send one in

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。APOLOGIES — SHIDOU RYUSEI.

✩ — contents ⋮ fluff, gn! reader, established relationship, post argument make-up, annoying shidou as always

dating shidou is not easy, it takes maturity and patience and the will of god’s strongest soldier. in fact, most of the time, dating shidou means you’re constantly drifting in and out of being mad at him—which, right now, you’re quite mad.

“shidou ryusei, it is one am,” you glare, opening your door and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. he has a wolfish grin on his face—it’s cocky, and it widens as he stares you up and down in your little batman pajama pants. normally, you wouldn’t answer the door for someone you’re mad at, boyfriend or not, but shidou makes it hard to ignore with his incessant knocking.

you value your sleep—and more importantly, you value not being kicked from your apartment for noise complaints.

“aw, not the full government name,” he says slyly, and it only makes your blood pressure rise even more as you practically feel a vein pop.

“ryusei,” you warn. but he doesn’t pay attention, just as you expect. instead, he whistles lowly.

“i like the uniform. ‘s cute,” he cackles, eyeing the way your pants are hung a little lower on your hips from tossing around in bed, exposing a bit of skin that he drinks in shamelessly.

“thanks,” you say dryly, “they’re fuzzy and they were half off. now why are you here?”

“just visiting,” he shrugs.

“at one am?”

“it’s twelve fifty-two,” he corrects like he lives to defy you in every corner. and you bet he loves it—in fact, you know he’s positively enthused by the way your lips curl into a scowl and your eyes glare at him so fiercely. he stares down at the way your hips slant as your cross your arms, and he chuckles (which you think is almost passable as a giggle at the sheer giddiness.)

only shidou ryusei would be giddy from turning you halfway near homicidal, and only he would find the murderous glint in your eyes cute, wholesome.

“what do you want,” you say bluntly. he takes a step forward, and no matter how mad you are, you can’t help but stand painfully still as he leans closer, trying your damn hardest not to lean in when his hot breath fans over your face as he stares at you.

“your bed would be nice,” he hums, “preferably with you in it.”

he’s insufferable. everything he does and says makes you want to chuck bricks at his head and hope it fixes the loose wires he seems to have. but you don’t even get to finish saying, “fuck off, ryu—” before he cuts in.

“c’mon, don’t make me find a way in myself,” he curls his lips wickedly, like he’s got you in checkmate, like the cards have been in his favor all along as you play the game he’s written. but this time is different—this time, you’re determined not to let shidou take advantage of your weak heart through his rough and tough charms.

this time, you have a point to prove.

“i’m going to call the cops on you,” you threaten, “tell them i’m being harassed by a pink-haired freak.”

“i wouldn’t mind getting married in jail,” he grins, and you can practically make out the hearts in his eyes as he looks at you. it makes you want to slam the door in his face and go right back to bed. but that would only mean he’d go back to pounding on your door and singing your name, and you’re pretty sure you’re one more instance away from your neighbors collectively petitioning your eviction.

“i don’t want to marry you,” you hiss.

“don’t be like that,” he reaches to poke your cheek, “being inmates would be fun. we could give the officers a show as we fuck—”

“ryusei,” you hiss.

arguing with shidou always ends like this. he worms his way in and knocks down your walls without ever saying i’m sorry. he eases his way back into your heart with wide grins and cheeky comments and that charm of his that really shouldn’t be as endearing as it is. he never admits he’s wrong—but the way he tries harder the next time, makes sure he does it right, makes sure he’s better just for you, you know he cares. he never resolves things in the way you would consider the standard method of patching up after those unavoidable couple fights—but this time you decide it’s different. 

this time your feelings are hurt—really hurt. the kind of hurt that makes you wonder if you’re annoying. or if you talk a lot. or if he even wants to be around you. or that maybe you tire him out. or that the sound of your voice is grating. or that you overstep boundaries. 

this time there is no brushing the cracked shards of your heart under the rug and acting like he can kiss the pieces back together. this time you want to hear it from him—and if you have to stand at your door at ungodly hours of the morning and milk it out of him…well, you’re inclined to do that. 

“c’mon, babe. are you gonna keep me out here all night? lemme in—”

“you’re not coming in until you apologize,” you say bluntly. he groans, throws his head back, and slaps his hands over his face as he grumbles into his palms. 

“god, you’re killin’ me here. seriously, you know i didn’t mean it—”

“‘for fuck’s sake, i’m not your damn kid’,” you mock his voice from the other night, reminding him of his own words like he’s forgotten. he only stares at you with pursed lips and a blank face, but that doesn’t stop you, however, as you scowl at him and continue, “i don’t know. you seemed to really mean it when you said that.”

“i was just tired, you know that—”

“i was just trying to look out for you,” you don’t even seem like you’re listening to him anymore, poking a finger at his chest accusingly as he lets you, “i watch you sleep at unreasonable hours only to wake up before the sun itself—”

“yeah, and i told you i’d work on that—”

“and then i ask you, have you eaten today? and you know what you tell me? yeah, i had a protein shake this morning—”

“okay, and that was like one time—”

“and then i hear that you get into a fight, and lo and behold, you show up to my place with a bloody nose and cracked knuckles—”

“but you should’ve seen the other guy—”

“and then i come over to your apartment, and your laundry isn’t done, your dishes aren’t washed, and you have eighty million socks on the floor,” you start to put a finger up for everything you list, making him fiercely fight back a chuckle that he knows would seal his death wish, “and all i try to do is take care of you so that you can be healthy and play your best and what do you do? yell at me and tell me it’s not my responsibility to—”

you’re cut off by lips pressing onto yours harshly, the rough feeling of a calloused hand cupping your cheeks and bringing you closer. and maybe if you had a bit more self-respect, you would shove away the rude, ungrateful, irritating, tacky-haired douchebag of a boyfriend that stands in front of you, but you simply choose to lose all dignity when it counts most. you choose to give in, melt into his touch, lean closer and fist his shirt as your lips press back just as firm. 

and when he gently pushes you back, you let him. you even let him step into your apartment and spin you around, shutting the door and pressing your back against the cool surface. his body cages you so that there’s no room for escape—not that you think you could even run from him now that he’s let himself in, anyway. but with one more peck to your lips, he pulls away, pressing his forehead against yours as he clicks his teeth and sighs. 

“fine, i’m fuckin’ sorry. ‘s that what you wanted to hear?”

“not if you’re only saying it to make me un-mad,” you say stubbornly.

he clicks his teeth again, shoots you a look of irritation that you return tenfold. “‘m sayin’ it ‘cus i want to, dumbass. you think i’d say that shit just to say it?”

“i don’t know, you’re rude,” you shrug, not meeting his eyes. he rolls his eyes before he leans in and kisses your cheek, then the other, then the tip of your nose, then just over your brow, then your eyelid—and when he sees the beginnings of a smile crack on your lips, he nibbles on your cheek and pulls a soft giggle from you against your will. 

“said i was fuckin’ sorry, stop being stubborn.”

“don’t yell at me again,” you huff, “and fix your sleep schedule.”

“okay.”

“and eat proper meals.”

“fine.”

“and maybe clean up.”

“kay, i’ll try. happy?”

“and stop getting into fights—”

“let’s set realistic expectations, here,” he cuts you off, earning a huff from you. but you seem significantly less angry—and he’s glad. because sleeping without your body to squeeze in the dead of night and not hearing you hum that stupid song you always listen to as you wash dishes and not getting those back to back pings on his phone as you spam him with daily updates is starting to get to him. so he wraps an arm around your waist, tugs you flush against his chest as meets your gaze, “are you still mad? because then you’re just being difficult.”

“no,” you sigh, making him grin.

“good.”

“i just love you,” you mumble, and there’s that cute, innocent little pout that you always do tugging at your lips, the one that drives him mad and reminds him he’s just as in love too. “i want what’s best for you—”

“yeah, yeah,” he grunts, “okay. i love you too. i’ll start being more responsible and shit. now can i come to bed?”

“fine,” you cave, “but—”

“great, let’s go,” he drags you along, not wasting a moment before your body is tossed onto the mattress and his lands on top of you, head tucking into your neck. and it’s warm—where his lips are, where he traces kisses along the awaiting skin. 

dating shidou ryusei is exhausting—but there are a few perks, you have to admit. 

“you’re a headache,” you murmur, threading your fingers through his hair. he snorts, shakes his head from his place in your neck, earning a small giggle from you at the way it tickles. 

“yeah? so are you with your nagging.”

“i don’t nag,” you slap his shoulder. he laughs—it’s that low, soft rumble that he only laughs around you, when his head is tucked into your neck, and your hands rub up and down his back, and he’s content. 

and maybe a little in love. 

“you do. but i love it, it’s hot when you’re mad.”

“go to sleep, ryusei,” you roll your eyes. and then you wait a moment or two—just so he doesn’t get a big head when you begrudgingly mumble, “and i love you too.”

half of this is just filler with dialogue but wtv. take this lil scenario in my head of arguing w shidou bc he’s a living train wreck

[swordsandarms]

how would you describe the dynamic between aerys and rhaegar?? no matter what rhaegar was aerys's first and only child for a long time, and tbh i kinda love to delude myself thinking aerys loved him almost as much as he hated? him.....

Wrote about this before, but of course I can't find it, but since it's rarely given enough complexity anyways, might as well do it again.

This is the endless problem of not allowing Targaryens the right to be more than one dimensional and have complicated human feelings and Aerys is probably the sorest spot for it. A lot of people are finally backing down on the weird dehumanisation of Rhaegar, thankfully, but Aerys less so, as he is a big problem even for "Targaryen fans" - he is the sole Targaryen called fully "mad" - that can be acknowledged as that absolute sort of mentally unstable, and in a violent way that can be fully antagonistic, too - bringing that whole can of worms used against a whole 300 years worth of generations of a family, so everyone stays away.

Here comes the tired disclaimer that of course I've got to put out over and over before writing of Aerys as a mere person instead of a fairytale boogieman: he wasn't a good guy with particular virtues; he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed; he wasn't a proactive, great King, and although he spoke of great plans that sounded sound didn't put in the effort to accomplish anything; he wasn't a good father and least of all husband for most of his life, even in his better days with less excuses (well, explanation) to it. Etc etc

But he had the complexity of feelings and behaviour of a whole person! I've said it before but Aerys is one of these background characters dead before the story starts that gets TONS of interiority that adds so much nuance to this otherwise muddled portion of history, but he's not a "nice dead victim" and hence gets little attention while less "lesser" background characters get essays of made up fanon.

Aerys' desire for both successful lineage and grandeur for his House clashing with his deep personal insecurities is more of a downward spiral than his actual mental illness. (Again, something I touched on in a different post that Tumblr won't let me find) Aerys wants and fails to be anything grand, and Rhaegar being seen as great while being nothing like him is a sour spot, because if greatness is his opposition what does that mean? Of course he latches onto Viserys when it's clear he's got his character.

But what about Rhaegar? Did Aerys love him? Did Rhaegar love his father once? He was his prized heir in a positive sense for the longest of their relationship. He kept him close in detriment of his mother's claim on him (took him to Casterly Rock for a year when Joanna died). But does that necessarily say anything about love?

This is the man who would end up hurting his sister, who would be open about the intention to wish bad things upon his child, but he's also grieved these children with his sister once, he's turned to the gods humbled despite his self righteous arrogance, asking if it's him, if he can do anything to make it better.

And, in his madness, Aerys kills Brandon and Rickard for "threatening Rhaegar". Which is fascinating. I've been trying to think of whether he is trying to put Rhaegar in a worse position by it, but it doesn't work. If it were the case, he'd be glad to latch onto the accusations and make the best of it, instead of becoming the bad guy further by "protecting Rhaegar". If he weren't able to think that straight, at least his advisors would (he's got plenty of "whisperers" in his ears, we are told, and they are against Rhaegar's faction). But if they tried, but if they tried it's clear the "he threatened Rhaegar" convoluted thought won.

And I joke about the Rhaenys moment supposedly being the breaking point in Aerys and Rhaegar's relationship from his point of view (of all things) but... With these powerful families, the personal and political are in a constant clash. Yet it is quite something that political tensions are all high ("like before the Dance"), Aerys' undermining and threatening Rhaegar's position is open knowledge, and yet, what gets to Rhaegar finally is his father rejects his child - rejects family.

Was there only honour and "doing things right" in lieu of kinslaying? Was there a reason why it was hard to give up on his father and admit to himself he wasn't salvageable in any lesser ways until it's too late?

And oh, he was ever so aggravated by Rhaegar being so good at things and admired for it, but when he dies in battle... There surely must be some conspiracy, some betrayal for his shining son to be gone. Rhaegar himself wouldn't just be bested without a better explanation! Someone ought to answer for it, damnit!

[a-name-or-three]

i’m think about speech patterns! take these for all your fic writing needs! not all of them are done bc i was taking requests for who to do next on the discord lol

Jon: He tends to speak like he'd type, a veneer of professionalism and Oxford education, but one which slips the second he's shocked out of his facade by worms, or Martin. He's one for run on sentences; he has a lot of thoughts and he wants to get them all out the second they come into his head, no matter if they actually make sense to the listener or not. If he's shocked! or upset! He gets snippier! His phrases are cut off, or bitchy.

Martin: He, well, he hedges a lot. He lets people come to their conclusions before he, uh, before he finished speaking. It's easier that way, y'know? They hear what they want to hear. But when he's angry, or annoyed, or tired, he lets slip what he's really feeling. He stops biting back his words and he gives up on being sweet. You know what he thinks? Maybe people better listen to him now and then!

Tim: Tim is a consummate professional, but also? A Lad. A lot of people forget, but he started in publishing! He's good with his words, and a nerd. These are two Very Important Things about Tim Stoker that he will ensure that you know by the end of a conversation with him. Tim does his best to make you comfortable, talking casually but without restricting what he knows. He's not about to back down from a point if he disagrees with you, though. He's always up for a bit of a Scene, be that imitating his movie of the month, or creating some imagined moment about the people around him. He cares, so deeply, and he wears his heart on his sleeve. His emotions ride high; he can be the class clown if he wants to, but he can just as easily be hurt very badly. Oh, yeah, another thing to mention! He's a little forgetful in conversation! He needs to wheel back to things when he remembers them! He also has a habit of asking questions without asking them? He's more curious than he wants to let on...

Elias: Well, Elias is very similar to Jon. He's a little more restrained in terms of run-on sentences, though. He's spent a long time crafting his language to provide authority in equal measure with a non-threatening presence. He speaks slowly, as if he's thinking over every word, rolling them in his mouth like a sweet. When he realises he needs to intimidate, though, a thrill laces everything he says. He *enjoys* the ability to put those below him into their places. He likes using his words to mould and crush people, and he isn't above doing so. Do I make myself clear, Jon?

Annabelle: Well, Annabelle is similar to Elias, actually. She chooses her words very carefully. She knows how much affect a single choice can have, even down the stress she chooses to put on a phrase. There's a smile in her voice, like she knows everything that this conversation is going to include. Though, I suppose, it's important to remember how young she is. When she died, she was just a poor university student... She's not sure she's grown up since then, and it's much easier to weave a web when people think you're innocent...

Nikola: Nikola talks Exactly how you'd expect a ringmaster puppet to talk! Grand gestures, bright smiles, all with a plastic coating! Isn't everything she says just wonderful?! She knows people hate her, and she also knows how funny it is to pretend like they adore her! She's less self-aware, than some of the others, but she's there to have fun, not manipulate people! She understands her atrocities, and *delights* in them. She doesn’t have a face, so she has to put all her emotions into her voice!

Peter: Peter is just... Tired. Growing up as he did has him split between an innate human desire to share, and the exhaustion of other people. He settles by picking a confidant, and markedly rejecting everyone else through a professional, bland exterior. He knows, he knows better than you, but he's not going to stress himself proving it. He's got better things to do.

Michael: Michael... What an interesting boy... He... I...? Was... Is...? Michael is something else. He knows he doesn't talk in a way that others understand instinctively... And yet it's always very clear what he means. He is deceit, but he will never lie to you. It's easy to understand a lie. Much harder to unravel a half-truth. I suppose that's what Michael is... A half-truth. There's amusement in his nonsensical nature, even as he bites back resent. Some remnant of that anxious little boy long to make a joke, to titter anxiously at the things his friends say... Michael is confusion, confusing, confused. And he knows exactly what's happening.

[finnzhal]

@eduardo200012 asked.

I can ask Kalim and Jamil with a male reader who is cursed to turn into a tiger until he marries his true love

FINN's response.

ILY FOR REQUESTING A BUNCH. This one isn't so angsty , it's more funny to me ^^; Although , I'm not quite sure what you want me to write it as specifically and I didn't turn them into marrying but a kiss instead ( reference from Tiana ) . . So this is only a headcanons + Drabble , I'm so sorry if that isn't what you asked for :(( UPDATE: I'M SO SORRY I JUST REALIZED I SAID LION INSTEAD OF TIGERR HUHU

Reader : MALE!READER

Character : SCARABIA DUO! KALIM, JAMIL

Mentions : Drink spiking, angsty(?)

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Little summary : You're friends with Floyd and you always go to the mostro lounge to hang out, you might grab a drink or two but you know Floyd would do something sketchy on your drink and you usually ask for Jade to do your drink . . But of course , Jade cannot be trusted also and he too puts something in your drink for "fun" just like Floyd said but you don't have to know what they did and you slept fine the entire night . . Until you woke up itching in your fur , you for real thought someone put you in a furry suit until you look at yourself in the mirror, you ran towards the twins fast.. you struggled running in all fours and you look like those my little ponies who tried standing up on two feet ... It took you a whole 30 minutes just for the twins to not know how to help you.

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KALIM AL-ASIM

You guys started dating a few months back and students hated how affectionate you guys are, most of the time it's Kalim who shows the most in public . Of course he'll stop if you're uncomfortable with it and just give you affection when you guys are alone

So the moment he saw a tiger running around the hallway looking like the tiger is trying to find something or someone.. he immediately runs towards you wondering why a tiger is running around

The twins explained what happened to Kalim and.. It took him a whole hour to understand what the twins said before turning back to you and pampering you

But then again he compliments how you look, in every form. He loves you and will always compliments your appearance. ( He's the type of dude who is willing to love you even if you were a worm- )

He couldn't stay with you the whole day because of school and Jamil insisted him to attend classes, he asked for you to just wait in his room just to rest and he'll try to find something to somewhat get out.. of that form ?

Poor Jamil who's gonna complain about Kalim not paying attention to the entire class just because of you, don't be surprised that he barged in the room after the school ends. Just you and him alone once again

He didn't even care about your fur going to his mouth as he kisses every part of you until your lips, a big poof sound came in.. he opened his eyes, noticed your form back. He smiled gleefully while you were screaming about how you're naked infront of him

"Baby, my kisses are a medicine! Let me kiss more of your boo boos"

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JAMIL VIPER

it didn't took long enough for Jamil to realize you're missing and some random tiger were running away from the Twins are the same day, he confronted the both of them to realize you're the lion.

He gave it his all not to create chaos just because of it not until he got the answer of "we don't know how to get [name] back to their human form" from Floyd. Another scolding for endless of hours, threatening to report it to the teachers.

Before he did, You put your paw on top of his hand as if you're telling him not to.. and so that's what he did. He decided to stick with you in some tiger form

He wasn't as affectionate as Kalim and only thinks logically, reading every book just to get back to your form. He was worried it wouldn't come off or worse

Of course he couldn't abandon Kalim or his classes, he insisted you to come with him but you didn't.. you were anxious about your appearance and it made his heart broke. He let you be in his room after he gets back

The only affection you can get from him was cuddling and words of affirmation, he was trying to console you after school. Cooking you food while he tries to find what you need to get you back

As he finished cooking for you, giving you food in bed. Each day you were more and more insecure about what's happening to you, He's trying his best for you and he didn't want you to feel this way in or out of tiger form.

He kissed you on your lips after his words, he raised an eyebrow wondering how it felt like a human's lips before opening his eyes. He pulled away after he noticed you naked infront of him, giving you a blanket before you panic

For a minute, he chuckled at himself.. "after weeks of trying to find a serum, a kiss is all that it's needed.."

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© Don't steal people's works.