#gn x reader

[running-with-kn1ves]

Had this thought about yandere husband gardener where he buries the corpse of ppl on his very VERY large garden who tries to take his wife!reader away and reader always sees her husband he always do gardening weirdly at night when in reality he was burying a body. And if garden is already full of corpses why not bury it on the woods nearby.

I love this!!! I believe something similar happened in the movie Secret Obsession? It's such a perfect idea.

I imagine more of a househusband who loves gardening, cooking, etc. So his... skills arent all that questionable. Why does he have a bone saw and multiple different drills? Well to cut up meats and such for your dinners of course! The sudden growth of your garden and the mysterious 7 foot holes that seemed to pop up out of nowhere? Well its growing season honey it's time to plant!It's always a liiitttle bit of a stretch, but just believable enough for you not to question it. He may come back to bed with flecks of blood and dirt occasionally, but doesn't it give him the manly musk you admire so much?

I can definitely see him as the more homely, scruffy type with dad glasses and disheveled hair. He's got a cheesy 'kiss the cook' pink apron for when hes making you homemade meals, and a dark black one for when hes disposing of his victims.

He just loves you so much-- and cant help but say it at any moment of every day that he can. There isnt a lack of love in your relationship-- that's for sure. But you always feel like something is missing, like theres something wrong but you cant pinpoint it. Maybe it's because everyone in your life seems to be disappearing, or because your husband feels too perfect.

But even though things feel wrong, you can't bring yourself to say anything to your doting husband. You cant destroy things, not when he seems so happy. You always find him grinning, either when cleaning or coming back from the garden, covered in dirt and smelling like iron.

You worry when he speaks so possessively, promising nothing will ever come to harm you, that everyone who ever could is, "out of the way." You find that the days and nights where he spends longer in the garden, the dirtier he becomes, the louder the sounds in the basement are, he becomes more loving. More doting. Hes so affectionate with you, unable to stop himself from smothering you with kisses and handsy grabs. He seems exhausted, tired yet lovestruck.

You insist that he should let you do some of the work, that he should take a break. But he always seems to do his duties with a tired grin, claiming its 'his enjoyment as your husband.' And you wouldn't want to take away his responsibilities and hobbies, right? Even when you claim you can help in the garden and do the dishes, that you're not helpless. But all he wants is you to stay his sweet little spouse, working so hard to provide for your family, while he makes sure you have a nice warm meal and a nice warm husband to come back home to.

[im-657-mv]

blue eyes [III]

henry creel

[I] [II] [full]

word count: 1780

Exactly six hours had passed since your utmost wonderful "encounter", with your once beloved, Vecna. Time seemed to move too slowly, and every two minutes you would find yourself checking your watch, watching the seconds go by.

You were tired, alone, and scared. And of course, Steve offered to stay, as well as the kids, as a form of comfort and support but you politely declined. You were terrified of what Vecna, Henry, would do.

Would he hurt them? Kill them? You wanted your friends safe, more than anything in the entire world. But how could they be when Vecna was against them?

Besides worrying about your friends, you also had to think about yourself, and the fact that there was a literal monster coming for you. You tried thinking of different ways to protect yourself, to arm yourself. But when imagining it on a larger realistic scale, a gun would not win a fight against a six-foot-tall monster with tentacles, mind powers, and complex feelings.

And that was the other problem occupying your mind late into the night. Him. And you hated yourself for even thinking about it for the slightest second again, but your mind kept wandering back to him. It was hard to put into words for your friends, and even harder to put it into words in your own mind.

But the fact still remains that he is not a good person. You kept telling yourself that. Over and over and over again and again, until you thought it stuck, it never lasted long though.

In all honesty, you just wanted a nice long rest. Just to sleep through all of this. The pain, the worrying, the sense of betrayal. You wanted the one thing you can't have. Because if you do fall asleep you know he'd be there, waiting for you in your dreams. He's there in your mind.

And you could already tell that he was somewhat mad that you were avoiding him. You would never admit it but, you knew him. You know him like you know yourself.

You were in deep thought but all of it paused for a split second. You turned your head to your window and you felt compelled to look out into the woods. You got up from the dent in your bed and slowly stepped towards the moonlight, letting it shine on your face, lighting your way towards the glass.

You peered out into the dark abyss, searching for something, but you didn't know what. You felt like there was something there, but you didn't understand what it exactly was.

Returning your thoughts to your bed, you made your way, but you saw something. You walked back and looked harder and there he stood, adorned in white against the dark of the night. He was standing there, looking back up at you with his blue enticing eyes. And you felt him pierce your mind and body altogether.

"Henry..." You muttered under your breath in disbelief, your eyes widening with horror and confusion. It was Henry in his human form, blessed in all white like an angel sent from heaven.

You pressed closer to the window forcing your hands and face into the glass, decorating it with your heavy breath and fingertips. 'This isn't real... How is he here?' You thought to yourself. There was no way he could be here in this world, he can't be here. Because if he could travel between worlds that means there were new possibilities to consider, and none of them were good.

Henry lifted his arm, gracefully, and motioned for you to follow him into the abyss with him. It immediately reminded you of Alice and the white rabbit. But he wasn't the rabbit. He was the devil reincarnated. You were faced with temptation, but you had to resist. You had to be strong.

After all, you did promise yourself that you wouldn't fall for any of his tricks. But then as Henry started to walk away you started to panic. Breathing started to get harder and the walls seemed to close in, making your head feel dizzy and light.

'Follow me...' He whispered into your ear and you knew it was Henry lurking in your mind. You knew that, but you continued to listen to his words.

In record time you fled your house, not even bothering to put on shoes or a coat. The sense of hurrying was more important as it pumped through your body, filling your veins. You swung open the door and caught sight of Henry's white clothing like a moth to a flame. Like a beacon reaching for you, pulling you forward.

Henry glanced back at you, seeing you follow him like a lost sheep, and he smiled at you. It was kind and innocent, which to your regret, made your stomach churn, either from dread or butterflies. But you continued to follow him anyway.

"I've missed you, Y/n," Henry said in a quiet, soft voice, as you caught up to him. You two were walking side by side with Henry taking the slightly ahead lead, of course.

"Why did you ignore me, Y/n." He continued in that soft tone as if he were an innocent person with no history of being a murderer or a monster. As if he hadn't lied to you for years about who he was. As if he wasn't Vecna.

"I..." You hesitated with your answer.

"Shhh, my love. Save your voice. Just listen to me." You nodded your head and looked down, ashamed. You wanted to be good, and no matter what the other part of your brain was saying you would always listen to him.

"Your friends are lying when they say I'm evil, Y/n. I'm doing this for the world, for us, my love." Henry halted. And there you stood in front of Henry as he peered into your eyes from his height, admiring how tall he feels and how small you seem.

Henry grabbed both of your hands and took them into his own. His hands were warm and big covering yours fully. You peered up to him and watched his focus being solely on his and your hands being conjoined.

"My Y/n," He whispered as he lifted one of your hands up to his lips, gently pressing it to them in a soft kiss. And for every two seconds, he adorned more, making sure to burn the feeling into your skin as he littered more and more.

Everything was so unclear to you. Your thoughts were unfinished like a bottle cap was placed on them before they could bloom into coherent human thoughts. All you could think of, feel, was his lips as he moved high and higher...

"You're my Y/n," He whispered into your arm. You couldn't think to say no or squirm in discomfort as you groaned nodding your head in acceptance, and defeat. Henry noticed this instantly and smiled into your skin, glad that he had stopped your thinking. He just loved when you were so hopelessly in love with him.

Henry stopped and lifted his head, looking at your fuzzy state.

"You look so beautiful." He said taking a full moment to admire you, still dressed in your pajamas. Because to him, you were the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. And you looked even prettier dressed in the moonlight.

The shadows of the braches made shaps across your body, and he couldn't help but stare at you, all of you.

"Come on Y/n, it's time to go home." His hands cupped your face as your eyelids opened up a bit wider.

"Home?" You mumbled, trying your best to think, but you couldn't.

"Yes, your new home," And that's when a part of you started to panic. "our home, my love." Your mind started to think just above what was being forced down, and the only thought was, 'Bad...'

You tried to push yourself off of him, but your limbs were no use. They felt heavy and dense like weights have been placed upon them keeping you from using them.

"Henry..." You said as you kept on trying to push away from him.

"Are you going to be difficult?" He said oddly sweetly, addressing your lose attempt at 'leaving'. But you continued on with your pathetic movements.

"We," Henry said as his eyebrows knitted together while he lifted his hand "are going home." He attached his hand to your temple at a frightening speed and you immediately toppled down into his arms as your limbs became limp.

Henry lifted you up carefully, carrying you in both of his arms. As he walked forward further into the woods your head lolled towards your house. And the only feeling you could process was regret. You regretted not trying harder to resist him and you regreted saying no to Steve's-

"Y/N!"

Steve? Henry stopped completely growling in an annoyed groan as he slowly turned around. It was Steve.

"Y/N where are you?"

You tried to call out to him, to scream something to get his attention. But you couldn't. In your useless attempt, the only sound that made it past your lips was a small mumble of a groan.

Henry turned back around and continued striding confidently onward with you pressed close against him, resuming into his calm aura.

"There they are!" Will called out pointing his flashlight in your direction.

"Vecna has them!" Nancy shouted in a frightened shrill.

They were all here! Every single one of them was here to save you! You cheered in your head as you imagined the idea of being saved by them, by your friends. This was your time. You were going home. You were going to be safe...

But then the wind started to pick up faster and faster. The trees started to crackle and snap with animosity and force. Their wood bent into unnatural shapes encaging you and Henry in, away from the rest. And its branches grew dangerously sharp as it protruded against what Henry deemed as intruders. It sounded like snarling animals. Aggressive, loud, and scary as hundreds of trees obeyed a force stronger than mother nature herself.

And still, with all the sounds and shifting behind him, Henry continued his slow pace. His face showed nothing but pride as he just bent nature to his ultimate will.

Without a single doubt with his actions, he moved his face down and brought his mouth to your ear,

"You are the love of my life." He whispered as he looked back up at your curled unresponsive form, a soft smile blessing his face.

"Forever and always..."

[slimearchon]

You bang your toe and how they would react Marc, Steven, and Jake with GNreader

The 🍮- is my blog signature @slimearchon

🍮- The quiet apartment silence shattered by a loud bang and and a bellowed “Ow!” Falling from your lips. You were walking around the apartment and smashed your toe into the bed frame.

🍮- Steven would instantly be by your side, “Oh no Sunshine! Let me go get you some ice! Here sit down first!” Helps you onto the bed while he fetches the ice.

🍮- Marc would come over, his eyes scanning the room for any danger then realizing what has caused your injury. “I freaking hate this bed frame. I did the same thing the other night Moondrop. I think we should start shopping for a different one.” He would also fetch you some ice after he was done glaring at the offending furniture.

🍮- Jake would rush in, quickly coming to your side. You would be knelt over clutching your thumped toe with a wince. “Stupid bed frame.” You mutter, bitterly.

🍮- Jake handles it the way a mother would in their toddler bumped into something and started crying. By starting a one sided fight with it to make you feel better.

🍮- His feet deliberately kicking the villainous bed post with harsh thumps, moving the bed a bit with his force. “That will teach you to hurt mi amor! Just wait until I come back with my sledgehammer.”

🍮- You sitting wide eyed at his outburst, the shock did help keep your mind off the pained foot.

[emmyrosee]

Sometimes, it’s just fun to mess with Sukuna.

He likes to think he’s got you figured out, like how he knows how to navigate each one of your antics like the back of his hand.

But right now, over ice cream, you decide to pull a fast one on him, keep him back on his toes and let him fester in the playfulness that sometimes slips from the relationship.

“Here kuna baby, try this,” you hum, passing him a spoonful of ice cream. He shrugs and leans over, taking the bite and chewing it thoughtfully.

“Pretty good.”

“Right?” You giggle, before wiping your spoon clean. “I didn’t think I’d like the bits of cookie but-“

“What the fuck was that?”

You quirk your brow as his raise in annoyance, looking at you angrily. “What was what, babe?”

“I know you didn’t just wipe your spoon clean,” he snaps. “Be so fucking for real.”

You giggle, “well… yeah… why wouldn’t I? I don’t want to eat your spit.”

“Eat my- WE MAKE OUT?!”

“That’s different,” you scoff. “That’s consensual. This was my spoon.”

His eyes are blown with annoyance as they look around your face for any indication that you’re full of shit and messing with him, but when you give him a simple shrug, he throws his spoon down and immediately grips your cheeks in his hands, pulling you into a messy, noisy kiss, which you squeal into. You taste the rocky road in his lips, and as much as you want to melt into the intense affection, to rile him up more, you bring yours hands to his chest to push him away.

“Kuna!” You gasp against his lips. “What’re you-“

“Look,” he snarls, pulling away angrily. “We’ve been together too long for us to think anything is gross. I refuse to let you think any part of me is gross. Dickhead. I’m perfect.”

“I was kidding!” You laugh, bringing your hands up to cup his cheeks. “There’s nothing in the world I find more attractive than you and your spit.”

Now, he lets out a gag and pulls a face at your words, “alright. Moods gone. You ruined it.” He shakes his head from your grip and pouts.

“Babyyyy,” you titter, grabbing and smushing his cheeks together while you nudge his nose. “There’s always a mood with you.”

“Yeah. And you constantly ruin it.”

[fishermanshook]

Can I send a request Platonic Female dancer, Cheerleader and Journalist x Ballet Dancer reader (not separate or both happen at the same time).

Pirouette's for Days (surviors! x gn!ballerina!reader)

# reader has a backstory , cut 4 length , there's a small kiss in each part but they are seen as platonic and not romantic , grammar and spelling warning , a tinge of ooc

INTRO

After a horrible “accident” left your theater in ash, the manors offer of shelter seemed to be your only hope. While the situation was not ideal, I suppose it did work out in the end. In exchange for shelter, food and water, you get stuck running for your life from blood thirsty Hunters who are dealing with the same things you are.

You should’ve been off and on your feet by now, but stuck in a never ending game of life and death leaves you trapped in a rickety manor that won’t let you leave. Thankfully, you’ve met some amazing people during your stay and you couldn’t ask for more. (Well, maybe a way out. But you’ll just have to take their deduction costume as an apology.)

꒰wc꒱ 1.0k

Female Dancer

Your destined arrival was a surprise to Margaretha, a delightful one sure, but a shocker nonetheless.

Margaretha truly believed that she would be the only dancer to ever roam these treacherous halls, that no one would ever understand her on a deeper level when it comes to dancing. How the act of it envelops her and consumes her mind and body entirely. Assuming the dancer was forever destined to waltz alone, others could hear her slow music box accompanied by the soft melody of her tears in the dead of night.

Thankfully, that time has come and gone, and Margaretha is in a better place now. Your company has shown her that not everything and everyone is bad in the world, she cherishes you deeply. She just isn't 100% sure how to show it.

You've found yourself adjusting to your peculiar situation quite fast, and you're sure that the Female Dancer is the one to blame. You spend most of your time with her, and usually, that time is spent on stage somewhere in the manor. This is where your secrets have spilled. This is where you've perfected your Grand Adage. This is where you've shared a kiss with the one and only Female Dancer.

Margaretha will break in your ballet shoes for you. She will help you sew and pick out your performance outfit for your upcoming solo. (You being forced by Ms. Nightingale to dance at one of the events, don't worry about it.) Margaretha will help you bend and flex every fiber of your being. Margaretha will do nearly everything for you, and you will do almost anything for her.

Cheerleader

Lily is almost certain she's seen a show of yours in the past, at least, before she was stripped of her aristocratic status because of the accident. Whether it was you or someone else performing, she remembers it and quotes it as an incredible experience.

Right off the bat, Lily wants to be your friend. She may not be the first person you meet in the manor, but she's a face worth remembering, as the Cheerleader starts to appear more often in your new life at the manor. If you do decide to indulge in the Cheerleader and choose to seek her out, she'll start to appear at your side more often.

The Cheerleader learns of your upcoming performance and is instantly intrigued. With the eyes of a puppy, she begs to see your practice, just for a little bit. How could you deny her? Not that you were going to, originally you were going to ask her if she wanted to see what you'd been working on. She doesn't have to know that though, as you quickly take her hand in yours and race off to the auditorium where your practices have been taking place.

Watching you dance triggers memories to flood in, and before she knows it, tears are flowing down her face. Your performance has moved her to tears and all she can do is mumble a small "m sorry..." as she tries quickly to compose herself. Your show has reminded her of better times before the accident took place, before her brother was rendered bed-bound, and before her life was overcome with grief and abuse. You help comfort her, hugging her tightly and laying gentle kisses on her head.

Lily will always cheer you on from the sidelines. Quiet as a mouse during your performance she quietly gasps from the sidelines, but after your show, she showers you with praise and compliments. Commenting on every aspect of your dance and applauding you for all the hard work and effort you put toward the show. Her words make you teary-eyed before she kisses them away. Your her friend, she doesn’t want you crying! Taking your hand in hers, the two of you rush off elsewhere to celebrate your successful performance.

The Journalist

Alice DeRoss has most likely heard of you and your grand theater, it's even possible that one of her coworkers has interviewed you before. Although, she'll never know as she loses her memory of them the more she's stuck in here.

When she first meets you, she's (just a bit) overly kind. Sensing the fact that you've just gone through something traumatic (like everyone has in this damn place.) she wants to make sure you feel safe with her, despite your unlikely situation right now.

As one of the first people you meet, you feel most at ease with her. Which is one of the reasons why you choose to stay closest to the Journalist. Alice doesn't mind as she enjoys your company and finds that you're an intriguing character to talk to. Whether it be about ballet, more of your background, or just random things in general, she finds herself smiling more in your presence.

Alice is the first person to see your performance finished or now. Whether you're dancing with Margaretha or performing a solo, you spot a flash of light from the audience. Her camera has caught you soaring through mid-air as if defying gravity itself and it wows her. Your performance leaves her mouth slightly agape before she snaps out of it and claps for you. (And maybe Margaretha, but either way she was looking at you the entire time.)

When you finally do put on your performance, Alice has got front-row seats and is amazed the entire time. You look stunning on stage and she doesn't dare to take her eyes off of you for a second. In the end, she is waiting for you on the side of the stage and (with the help of Emma) has brought you a bouquet and a special kiss on the cheek for all your efforts.

note: EAT UP IDV WOMEN LOVERS (please reblog) (also i didn't expect to actually get something out tn)

(2024)©️fishermanshook — do not steal, translate, plagiarize, or repost my work on any other platform

[xisadorapurlowx]

"He inhales deeply as his lips press onto the back of her hand, savouring her scent. His kiss is gentle, loving, intimate. 'How are you doing today, my love?' he asks, a smile curling upon his lips."

[chososlilprincess]

Virgin Choso who doesnt know why he feels hot one day when he looks at you, something twitching in his pants and his face turns pink from…embarrassment? He doesnt understand these new feelings that come with having a human body, and he doesn’t know why he’s reluctant to ask someone about it. Not you atleast, he couldn’t ask you. What if you thought he was weird? or creepy? why does he even care? he’s never cared about silly things like what others think of him.

When he eventually confides in his younger brother Yuji, he tells him something he can’t pick whether is terrifying or exciting. “its normal bro, you just like her,” he tells him like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, “and when you like somebody they often make you feel uh…horny,” Yuji said grinning. Choso gets more and more embarrassed as Yuji tells him the basics of the birds and the bees.

Now Choso was in his bed, rock hard in his underwear after thinking about you for a little too long. He thought of what Yuji told him to do when his cock starts feeling weird, he had to ‘jerk off’ which his brother had told him would ’help the ache in his dick but make his feelings for you worse’

Choso sighed and reached a hand down to touch his cock, not yet reaching into his underwear. He sucked in a breath, it was terribly sensitive. pathetic.

He thought about you as he rubbed himself with his hand, thought about how you look when you laugh, about your pretty fucking eyes. The prettiest ones he’d ever seen in his almost 200 years of living. He shudders, and when he looks down again there’s a wet spot forming in his underwear, right where his tip was placed.

He feels dirty, he feels like a pervert. Thinking about his pretty friend while doing something so nasty. It feels wrong. But he needs it, he craves it.

He reluctantly pulls down his boxers, watching as his cock springs up, and it hurts. He thinks of you again, about that one time you stumbled over your own feet, and put your pretty little hand on his chest so you wouldn’t fall.

He touches his tip and he whines. fuck. it’s red and sensitive and little beads of what he assumes is pre cum, leaks out.

He starts playing with himself, grasping his length softly and stroking it once. He lifts up his tshirt and puts it in his mouth, to not make too much noice. it feels so fucking good already.

He begins stroking it slowly. up and down, just doing what feels good. He spits in his hand and brings it back to his cock to continue jerking off. He whimpers.

He’s so desperate for you to like him, for you to touch him, for him to be yours. And for you to be his. He closes his eyes, and he pictures you next to him, your smaller hand replacing his own, stroking him, telling him you love him. He thinks about kissing your pretty lips, holding your cute face in his hands. He thinks about being inside you,

his dick twitches as he groans, spilling his sticky load on his stomach while his whole body shakes. He stares at his mess, breathing heavily while he comes down from his high.

fuck. He wants you so bad, he needs you.

and Yuji was right, the ache in his now softening dick is gone, but the ache in his heart only got worse.

part two here

[v1x3n]

[puff0o0]

Your eyes watered before tears left them, falling down your face and into your hands as you tried to cover them

"Schatz.. I didn't think it would make you cry-"

König said softly, his hands meeting your shoulder before pulling you into a hug and holding you tight. His hand met the back of your head as he tried holding your head and burying your face, wanting nothing more but to comfort you

"You're too sweet for me.."

You mumbled between sobs, burying your face into him

"Sweet? I only got you a gift, liebe"

König laughed, his hands rubbing your back comfortingly as you pulled back to look at everything he did for you

Balloons filled with your favorite color, 5 expensive gifts you've been wanting, and an entire letter telling you how much he loved and adored you

"It was way more than a gift!" You exclaimed, now knowing you were going to have to best him next Valentines Day

You didn't take him seriously when he said he was going to make it the best one you've ever had and that only motivated him more

You pulled away and reread the letter, not a single lie in that letter as he listed everything from your head to your personality.

He told you why he fell in love and how, he told you what only made him fall deeper in love with you as time went on, only to end it off with an 'I love you'

you started crying again

[mellowwillowy]

A Husband Duty (GN, NSFW)

Instead of another normal love making session, you ask him to do more to you (FIC, junkie reader, IMG., more in Husband...)

—𝒀𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒐𝒃𝒆𝒓 - 𝑳𝑰𝒇𝑬 𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒋𝒆𝒄𝒕 𝑬𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕

Yan! Husband who just loves you so much that it turns into another worshipping session instead of fucking you raw without any condom on.

Yan! Husband who just eats you out / gives you head nonstop until you are overstimulated, the whole bed is wet with your cum and drool, his boxer drenched in cum as he ruts himself against the bed sheet.

Yan! Husband whose fingers teased the insides of your clenching hole, hitting that spot that makes your toes curl and eyes roll to the back. Yes, just loll out your tongue and he'll take it for granted with his mouth, sucking and licking it while he relishes in the way you whine.

Yan! Husband who will actually cum undone just from lapping up your sweet nectar, drinking it all like a thirsty man who is lost in the Sahara desert.

Yan! Husband who refuses any of your attempts in giving him head, nuh-uh, he wants to focus on you and you only. He is already wetting his boxer with his cum, what more do you want? Splatter it all over your face and hair? He'd be so fine with just your hole ♡

Yan! Husband whose cock twitches so much when it is only the tip that enters you, imagine the whole thing filling you full and deep, he is already shaking from the ejaculation, cumming deep inside you. Do you think he is done as a '5 second, take it or leave it?'

Yan! Husband who has a questionable way of ejaculating but his stamina is not to be doubted. He will pound himself deep into you while his sperm paints your insides white. Every time he pulls out, the cum would immediately pool out from your hole only to be refilled with another. (Honestly, as expected from someone inhumane)

Yan! Husband who will not stop kissing you, be it your face, lip, body, or anything as long as it's you. Can you imagine the amount of hickeys you'll be waking up to? These will surely show the servants and others just how cherished you are in his hand.

Yan! Husband who will coax more of your sweet moans, pushing your limit further with every session you have with him, yes, he will fuck you till the sun rises if you can accommodate to him. The idea of it makes his cock twitches again, he needs to be clamped tight by you.

Yan! Husband who will not stop abusing your sex, pleasuring you with his fingers as he gives you a second stimulation while he is still hammering his cock into you.

"W-why, why do you have so much c-cum, in you-!?"

"I don't know dear, maybe it's because of you. You are driving me nuts every day!"

Yulian is such a healthy man ^^ how much litter does he have left to fill you up? Ah, the bulge... it's so arousing to see your stomach bulging with his cock and cum.

Yan! Husband, the King of Aftercare, bathing you with the finest body care, roses floating while his face nuzzled up in your neck. Please, don't do anything you will regret, you don't want him to hammer his cock into you again, the whole bathtub might be his cum instead!

Yan! Husband who kisses you to sleep, letting you rest after hours of fucking you dumb. It seems like the euphoria is gone and he has regained his sanity, evident from how he's thinking how to cover all these hickeys and bite marks.

Yan! Husband who presses his lip to all those marks, kissing it better while occasionally licking some.

Maybe he shouldn't help you cover it after all.

[criminalamnesia]

Simon x Reader whose already work with TF 141 for a pretty long time. And one day, there's a traitor around the base, leaking their information. All of the proof are leading to reader but reader always deny it! And they interrogated reader, and reader always deny it! And he's (with other 141 members, of course, but it mostly him) do their torture methods to get information out of reader. They keep doing it until someday, the real traitor finally captured!

And make the reader traumatized, pls. Like, she would have trust issues, trauma, and others. She wouldn't forgive them, tho.

ooooo the angst. had to sit on this one for a few days before I wrote something, but here goes nothing.

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

when you blink open your eyes, the room is dimly lit. it’s silent save for the sounds of your labored breathing.

you must’ve passed out. one second johnny— a man you’d known for years—was slicing into your skin with a knife. the next, you’re staring into an empty room.

your hands jerk up involuntarily. still bound. the rope holding them to the arms of the chair have rubbed them raw. the skin is bright red and bloody. it makes you grit your teeth.

you look down at your lap, taking inventory of the parts of your body you can see. large gashes break up the fabric of your tac pants. the blood surrounding the deep wounds is dry and crusty.

one of the cuts looks like it’s getting infected. you swear you can see bone.

you’d taken this kind of suffering before. been capture by enemies, held and tortured and pushed to the brink of death. this was different. this was being done by your team. men you’d bled with. cried with. laughed with.

one you’d even slept with. the same one you loved. the one you called yours.

the door to the room swung open, hitting the wall with a metal thud. your head slowly lifts, eyes squinting to see him. by his stature, you know it’s simon.

he doesn’t bother shutting the door behind him. instead, he walks towards you slowly. as he comes closer, can make out his eyes in the sea of dark paint he smears around them. the same paint you’d helped him apply a time or two.

“back for more?” you say, and it’s meant to sound sarcastic, but all it sounds like is pitiful. your voice cracks, and pain seeps into your tone.

the first rule they’d taught you about scenarios like this was to never let the enemy know it’s working. never let them know that they’re hurting you— that they’re slowly wearing down your defenses.

well, you’d just broken that rule, and you hadn’t even meant to.

you didn’t know how long you’d been tied up, subjected to torture by men you had once called your family. all because a fucking liar whispered your name into their ears. all because they fucking believed it.

apparently the years meant nothing to them. to him, least of all, considering he’d done more damage to you than the rest of them.

simon comes to a stop in front of you. his hands are empty by his sides, but that’s not reassuring. there’s a table full of weapons off to the side. he would have his pick of the litter.

“ready to talk yet?” he says, and his voice is gruff. his tone is hollow. he’s speaking to you the same way he’d spoken to countless enemies. it makes you sick.

“fuck you, simon,” you spit out.

the betrayal of john, gaz, and johnny had hurt. but simon’s betrayal? that was enough to almost put you in the ground.

you’d stopped pleading with them the second they tied you to the chair. now, you were angry. furious. rage filled your veins, and if you weren’t beaten to all hell, you’d find a way out of these fucking restraints and strangle the man in front of you to death.

the man you loved. you’d thought you meant something to him, but apparently not— because who tortures someone they love?

“if you talk,” he ignores your outburst. “it’ll be easier. quick.”

“fuck. you.” you enunciate the words, your jaw impossibly tight as you grit your teeth. “im not the fucking rat.”

“all the evidence,” he starts as he disappears from your vision. you know he’s going to pick his weapon of the hour. you force yourself not to shudder.

“points to you.”

“take that bullshit evidence and shove it up your ass, riley,” you seethe, ropes pulling taut as you lean forward in the chair.

he’s back in your line of sight now, brandishing a large knife.

“you’re only making it harder on yourself, love,” he tuts, and then he’s swinging the knife down, right onto one of your fingers.

you scream as the blade cuts right through skin and bone. your teeth dig into your lip, drawing blood as you refuse to give him more of a reaction. it fucking hurts, but you’ll be damned if you let yourself cry.

“feel like talking now?” he asks, watching as half of your left pinky finger falls to the floor.

“or should we take off another?”

you look up at him, hoping he can see the hatred in your eyes as you speak your next words. “you could take the fucking hand off and I’d still have nothing to tell you.”

“let’s see how true that is then, eh?” he replies, and raises the knife again. he’s about to swing, when someone comes running into the room.

“ghost!”

it’s johnny. he’s obviously winded as he stops beside simon, dropping his hands to his knees as he struggles for breath.

“what, mactavish? im busy.”

“they’re—” he gasps. “they’re not— the— rat.” he says between breaths.

the room goes impossibly still. so quiet you swear you could hear the men’s heartbeats (or maybe that pounding in your ears was your own).

“you sure?” simon’s voice is softer as he lowers the knife and turns to johnny. the younger man nods, his eyes trained on you. you can see the regret in them, the sorrow.

“it’s fucking shepard.”

it’s not funny, but at the news, you burst into laughter. the men stare at you in confusion, but you can’t stop.

you’re laughing so hard you’re crying, and they’re just standing there.

“are you alrigh’?” johnny’s asking as he moves towards you. he’s fully recovered his breath now, and he drops to a crouch to be eye level with you.

you don’t answer— you can’t. you keep laughing. distantly, you hear the knife simon was holding clatter to the ground. can just make out the sound of more footsteps out in the hallway, coming towards the room.

you pass out.

when you wake up again, you’re in the infirmary. your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the bright fluorescent lights.

“easy, love,” a voice to your right drawls.

your eyes are fully open now. you look down at yourself, noticing the lack of bindings. noticing the iv taped to your arm, the stitched cuts, the black and blue bruises, the missing fingernails and missing finger.

the person sitting next to you clears his throat. that’s when you look up and meet the eyes of your captain.

your captain. the man who was supposed to lead you, to keep you safe. what a fucking joke. he’d started the damn witch hunt.

“how d’you feel?” he asks, his words soft, like he’s trying not to scare off a timid animal.

you stare at him for a beat. then two. then you’re moving, pulling the iv from your arm and shakily pushing yourself up in the bed. price is telling you to stop, reaching out to push you back down, but you slap at his hands.

“get the fuck off me!” you shout, and that takes him aback. he stops, frozen, as he watches you shift in the bed. you throw your legs over the side of it and prepare yourself to stand.

“you really shouldn’t—” he begins after he’s regained his senses, but you pay him no mind. you place your feet on the ground and start to stand. your legs wobble, almost give out, but you’re able to stand. barely.

“shut up,” you growl, stumbling forward and towards the exit. he’s moving to cut you off, and you slide him a gaze that’s sharper than a knife. “and leave me the fuck alone.”

he halts again. he seems almost scared of you— but that can’t be right. even on your best days, he would still beat you in hand-to-hand combat.

he’s not scared of your threats or your frail body. he’s scared of what he’s done to you.

just then, johnny and gaz come through the infirmary doors.

“cap, y’alright? we heard yellin’—” johnny begins, but his mouth snaps shut at the sight of you out of bed.

you’re heaving from your spot next to the bed. your legs are shaking violently, threatening to give out any second. you feel nauseous and numb.

“let’s get you back into bed,” gaz says, and he starts towards you, but you stop him as your gaze snaps to his.

“don’t come any fucking closer. any of you.”

“bonnie,” johnny murmurs. he sounds miserable, but you don’t care. don’t give a fuck about how any of them feel.

“don’t. im leaving,” you grunt out, moving a foot forward slowly. you’d be damned if you fell in front of them.

“you can’t, love. you’re in no shape to be walking.” john says, and you snarl.

“and whose fault is that?”

the men stay silent as they watch you slowly shuffle towards the foot of the bed. you’re bracing yourself to walk on your own when simon walks in.

“get back in bed,” his tone is blunt. you ignore him.

you remove your hand from the bed, move to take a step forward without support, and you begin to crumple to the floor.

simon moves forward, quick as a cat, and catches you. he lifts you into his arms bridal style, and you’re screaming hysterically. your limbs are flailing the best they can in such a battered state. you’re in fight-or-flight mode, your body betraying your desire to put up a steely front.

your palms slap against simon’s upper body and his masked face. he gives no reaction. he doesn’t say anything. the others are watching the exchange silently. the room is buzzing with tension.

“get off me!” you screech, landing a slap to simon’s cheek. “let me— let me go! let me go!” you’re gasping for breath, tears streaming down your cheeks. you’re panicking. your heart feels like it’s going to beat out of your chest.

“put me down! get— get— off me! stop—” you sob.

the doctor rushes into the room then, yelling at the men for allowing you out of bed. you can’t make out what she’s saying over the rush of blood in your ears. you feel light-headed. you can’t breathe.

“put them down, now!” the doctor yells at simon. “they’re having a panic attack— I thought I told you four to stay away from them? they’re too vulnerable right now—” the doctor is chastising them as simon places you back in the bed.

spots are dancing in your vision. you don’t even feel it when the doctor sticks another needle into your arm. the words being exchanged above your head are muffled. it’s like you’re underwater.

john’s face comes into view, then johnny’s, then gaz’s. as your eyes start to close, you notice the only face you don’t see again is simon’s.

when you wake up again, it’s been two weeks.

the doctor had put you into a medically induced coma to allow your more serious wounds time to heal, without risking another episode. unbeknownst to you, the members of your team had stayed by your bedside almost the entire time— minus simon. he hadn’t come within ten feet of the infirmary since the day of your panic attack.

there’s fresh flowers on the bedside table. a steady beeping of the heart monitor. a fuzzy feeling in your head.

it feels like a dream, all of it does. none of it feels real as you settle into your body again. but then the hurt starts, and you remember the truth.

your family betrayed you. your lover betrayed you. they locked you up and tortured you. they didn’t believe you.

when the doctor came to your side to check your iv, she smiled.

“how’re you feeling?”

you look up at her, and it takes a moment for you to speak.

“don’t,” you begin. your mouth feels like it’s full of cotton. “don’t let them…in here. don’t…wanna see them.”

the doctor nods in understanding, and she doesn’t say anything else to you. she turns and walks out of the room.

the door clicks shut behind her. she lets out a sigh before turning around to face the three men.

“they don’t want to see you.” she tells them, and their expressions drop. they don’t protest, and like wounded puppies, they walk off.

no one else comes to check on you for a few hours.

you’re in and out of consciousness— can’t tell what’s real and what’s a dream. flashes of your torture come back to you. flashes of a smile. of a scarred face. of hands on your hips and—

you crack your eyes open, and the room is dark. the only light is the blinking of some of the machines. it illuminates the room enough to allow you to see a large, dark figure slip from the room. the door clicks shut so quietly it’s almost imperceptible.

that’s when you notice fresh flowers on the bedside table.

your eyes start to droop once more, and you chalk up whatever you just saw to a dream, while simon exhales heavily on the other side of the infirmary door.

————————————————

authors note:

I hope this alright! it’s one in the morning (and I’m half asleep writing this) so I apologize for the errors that are most likely present, and the sense this most likely lacks. I feel like I could write a whole book about this idea, but im cutting myself off to sleep lol.

thank you for the ask, I hope I did your idea justice. 🫶

[ghouljams]

The Ghost distribution system... He really is like a stray cat, or a bear that learns minivans have food in them, he just keeps coming back no matter how many times you try to send him on his way. It doesn't matter how it happens but any scrap of kindness and he just determines he's going to attach himself to you.

Maybe he offers you a hand moving your couch when he passes your place and hears you swearing. You offer him dinner and Ghost has never been the sort to turn down a free meal, so he sticks around. It's weird that he doesn't even pretend to refuse, just takes you up on it immediately and even offers to help cook. You send him home and he's... there again the next day, waiting on your doorstep with a box of pasta asking if you could do anything with it. He's going to come back, he's going to keep coming back.

Maybe it's from meeting you at a bar. He's the biggest guy you can grab when your ex walks in, and somehow he seems approachable despite... well, everything about him. Fake boyfriend for a few hours at the bar is one thing, having him show up the next day to fix your sink because you mentioned offhandedly that it was leaking the night before is another. Having him sit in your kitchen and peal an orange for you because you said you were hungry is really driving home that this guy isn't leaving.

Hell maybe it's just a one night stand that never seems to end. You wake up and Ghost has already made breakfast. The two of you sit at your little table and eat quietly, Ghost scrolling his phone while you eye him warily, trying to figure out his game. He asks what you want to do today and somehow you can't find the right way to ask when he's planning on going home. He just sort of moves in, you realize he's printed a key for himself while you're grabbing groceries. It's nice he offers to pay, but you don't know when having him around became your normal.

Ghost sees you, he wants you, you're his. He's not leaving, he'll come back. He knows that this house has food and warmth, he knows that families forget to tie their trash up off the ground. He's a man of instinct, and you are going to be his perfect match.

[slimearchon]

Xiao fic dropping soon. Hint:🏫🏍️🍔🥤

[emmyrosee]

I DONT WANT TO HEAR A PEEP-

——-

“‘Kuna?”

“Go away.”

“Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

“I barely tolerate you as a human, you want me to tolerate you as a literal pesk?”

You jaw drops as Sukuna continues to play his game, thumbs tapping expertly on the controller as the violence breaks out on screen. He’s propped on his pillows while you’re curled into his side, the heat from his body sticky and warm as you use his chest as a pillow to thumb through your phone.

Only slightly hurt now that he’s mentioned he wouldn’t like you still.

“I bet yuuji would still like me,” you grumble.

“To be frank, I don’t really care what yuuji does.”

If he didn’t want you to see the way his jaw ticked at the mention of his brother, he did a poor job of it.

You notice it. And of course, you smirk as you sit up to prod him more.

“I bet he’d pick me up in a little leaf, carry me home and put me in a little tank,” you begin. “I bet he’d hand feed me fruit to my little mouth and make me such a happy worm.”

“Well then why don’t you go fuckin’ date yuuji then?” He snarls, motioning at the door. “Since he’d just love you so much.”

“I don’t want to date yuuji,” you pout back. “I want to date you. I love you. Even if you don’t love me-“

“For fucks sake-“ he pauses his game and, before you can ask, he flips you onto your back, straddling you and gripping your shoulders. He shakes you, and you squeal as he does.

“Yes, I’d still like you. Yes, I’d build you a stupid little cage. Yes I’d charge people to come look at you. Yes I’d feed you fruit, and yes I’d pet you every day. Yes. Yes. A million times yes, fucking let me play in peace.” With each few words, he pulls your shoulders up before slamming them back down into the bed, the springs bouncing you back into his hands.

“‘Kuna!” You giggle, your arms bending at the elbow to make minimal distance between you and your man, and despite the annoyance he wishes to convey, there’s a cheesy smile on his face, brows furrowed in focus and chest heaving from his speech and the act of bouncing you so intensely. He stops with a sigh, sitting up straight and smoothing his hair back.

“You’re such a fuckin’ nuisance,” he insults.

You smile and sit up to meet his face, cupping it in your hands to guide him into a kiss. He scoffs before ultimately leaning down to comply.

“Im your nuisance,” you mewl, giggling against his lips.

“Sadly.”

[earthtooz]

x : LUNCH BREAK :*+ﾟ

in which: you don't visit wriothesley during his lunch break after last night's argument, so he goes to the court of fontaine just to see you.

warnings: approx. 1.9k words, PURE FLUFF, gn!reader x pathetic and soppy and lovesick wriothesley, canon setting, reader works at the court of fontaine, post-argument so very minimal angst, probs not in character LOL

a/n: there's not a lot of content regarding fontaine or wriothesley rn so i apologise if this isn't completely in character. what i do not apologise for, however, is the urge to make him as lovesick as possible.

There is a notable tension in the Fortress of Meropide, and although a prison isn’t a place for rainbows and sunshine, today it feels especially devastating. It seems that the lord of the prison is the one responsible for it.

Brooding at his desk, Wriothesley glances occasionally at the clock on his desk, growing more and more impatient with each document he has to read through. He is waiting for something: a knock on his door. He is waiting for the call of his name, the reason for their interruption, then your name will reach his ears and an unmatched excitement will bloom in his chest. Then you’ll slip through the doors with lunch for two, he’ll pull out a chair for you right beside him, and mask professionalism that betrays the eagerness your presence always brings out. 

Your absence must be because of the argument that happened last night. One that remained unresolved because he went to bed before you, too furious to try to talk it out. Yet, when Wriothesley woke in the morning, a wave of guilt washed over him when you weren’t pressed against him like usual. Instead, you were on the other side of the mattress, further than an arm’s length away whilst turned away from him and Fontaine’s chilly mornings had never felt colder.

If he didn’t need to go to work much earlier than you, he would have waited until you had woken up to leave, but being the lord of the Fortress of Meropide meant that his presence was demanded. So, with a lingering kiss to your cheek and then your temple, he leaves into the dewy mornings of Fontaine, looking forward to his lunch break that the two of you often share together.

Except now, lunch is almost over and there hasn’t been a knock on his door. No one has called his name- not people he cared about, at least. You haven’t slipped through the heavy set of doors. You haven’t come down from the Court of Fontaine to visit him, and Wriothesley’s patience is thinning.

His fingers itch with the need to hold you, to tuck you close to his chest and just keep you there for a few moments as time pass by. Especially after last night, Wriothesley needs you now more than ever. 

By the time there’s only one hour left in the work day, he snaps. Stands up from his seat with an unmatched sense of fervour because of the unnervingly quiet day and snatches his coat from the hanger, leaving documents unread as he makes a beeline for the exit of the prison. The guards listen attentively to Wriothesley’s final commands for the day in his absence and once the information is cemented, the dark-haired is off without another second wasted.

You, on the other hand, sit in your office drowned in piles upon piles of papers. Wriothesley is a passing thought every now and then, the memories of last night’s harsh argument settling like weights in your stomach. You miss Wriothesley, very dearly, and all you want is to settle things with him. However, the image of his furious eyes and clenched jaw terrifies you beyond belief, you’re not even sure if he’ll be calmer by the time you get home, so for the first time ever, you dread the idea of going home. 

What you are completely unaware of, however, is your lover that is storming your way, desperate to receive the medicine that will cure his moodiness and irritation. 

The knock on your door distracts you from the piles of papers on your desk. 

“Who is it?” you call out, voice reverberating around the spaciousness of your office.

“It’s Wriothesley, can I come in?” His tone is sharp and leaves no room for you to reject him, but the mere sound of his voice causes you to stiffen, grip on your pen tightening as the papers before you lay forgotten. 

What is Wriothesley doing here? He normally never comes up to the Court of Fontaine just to see you because leaving the prison would be far too neglectful. There was also half an hour before he was done for the day, so could there be official business that needs to be discussed? Something urgent, perhaps? 

If it was urgent, then why come to you and not Monsieur Neuvillette- or even Lady Furina?

“Yeah- yes, you can come in,” you mutter.

When the door clicks open, Wriothesley practically barges through, door shutting behind him as he marches towards you. Getting up from your chair, you’re frightened with anticipation due to  how intense his stance is. 

“Is something the matter?” You begin, panic seeping into your voice as he pauses before you, determination setting his eyes ablaze as he eyes you down like prey. “Wriothesley, you’re scaring me, did something happen at the prison-”

“Where were you at lunch?” He demands.

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“Why didn’t you come visit?” 

“Is… is why you came up here? To ask why I didn’t visit you during lunch?”

He nods, expression stern as usual save for a small pout.

“I was swamped with work,” you half-lie, gesturing to the desk behind you and although there is clear evidence on your table through the form of stacked folders and paper, a storm of uncertainty brews in his blue eyes. “I couldn’t visit if I wanted to get these done, I apologise.”

The dark-haired frowns. “Is that it?”

“Yes. That’s all.” His eyebrows furrow, creating crease marks in his forehead that you want to kiss away, alleviating his worries, but you hold yourself back from doing so in fear that Wriothesley does not want you touching him. 

However, a switch is flicked when Wriothesley’s stern expression softens, melting into one resembling a kicked dog. “So you’re not upset with me?” 

“Oh, is that also on your mind?”

“Of course, I don’t like it when you’re upset with me,” your lover mutters, looking away bashfully to conceal the reddening of his cheeks. “You aren’t though, right?”

“No, not upset. Scared, maybe, but definitely not upset.” 

His eyes are glossy when he looks back at you. “Scared, why are you scared?” 

“W-we didn’t end on a good note last night,” you rub your wrist nervously. “I didn’t know if you would be happy with seeing me. On top of that, you can be really intimidating sometimes, so admittedly, I was a little scared to come see you just in case that you did not want me there.”

Wriothesley visually deflates with your last statement, shoulders dropping and eyes glistening as he murmurs a small, pathetic, “is that so?”

He wonders what part about him ever made it seem like he never wants you beside him, and the thought that he had frightened you enough to prevent you visiting him is an upsetting one. You must see it in his eyes with the way you frantically begin to explain yourself. 

“Oh no, darling, I didn’t mean it like that-”

He turns his head away again, disappointed in himself. It’s one thing for his prisoners to consider him intimidating but it’s another for you, his own lover, to think so as well, and the thought that he had scared you creates insurmountable shame to swell within him. Yet, his whirlwind of anxieties ceases when your hand goes to cup his cheek, gently prompting him to look at you. Then, a kiss is pressed to the corner of his lips, and his heart skips a beat at the sensation, love blocking his airways when you pull away to smile up at him. 

“As scary as you might be, oh great lord of the Fortress of Meropide, I also know you will never hurt me,” you reassure. “Rather, I feel safest when I’m around you, please never doubt that.”

Wriothesley sighs, hand snaking up to grip your waist and pull you closer to him. “Thank you, my love. But I beg, even if you assume I am upset with you, please keep visiting my office during lunch, it is the part of the day I look forward to most.”

“If that is your request then maybe you just need to be good and listen to me instead of arguing until your head pops off,” you tease, patting his face twice and he huffs before muttering an ‘understood’. Anything to see you. “Is there something else you need from my office?”

“No, just wanted to see you,” he looks at the brown paper bag in his hands. “I brought you lunch, just in case you didn’t eat.” 

“Wriothesley,” you melt, “how thoughtful of you. I’ll make sure to eat it when I finish reading those contracts.”

“You should eat now, though. Don’t drown yourself in work, it’s not healthy.”

“I wish it were that easy, but these piles were dumped on my desk this morning and were assigned to be done by the end of the week.”

The hand that was on your waist comes up to gently hover over your cheek and Wriothesley studies you, icy eyes hardening due to the fatigue present in your expression. You grab his wrist, trying to diverge his attention, but you should know better than assuming that your wellbeing isn’t of utmost importance to him. “Unacceptable, I should have a word with your supervisor-”

“-no, no, Wriothesley! I insist, this is manageable.”

He frowns, deep and serious before surrendering to your pleas. “Fine, but if it doesn’t get better by the end of the week, then I will be interfering.”

“If you do so, my supervisor will be too scared to come in for a month,” you squeeze his wrist and gently guide it away from your face, ignorant to how your neglect for your own health hurts Wriothesley as well. He knows you love your job, but he still thinks that you deserve to live life carefree, that you should get everything you want without ever lifting a finger. “It’s alright, dear, you mustn’t worry about me when your work is a thousand times more stressful.”

“Impossible.” He worries about you every second of the day. Telling Wriothesley to stop fretting over you would be like telling him to stop breathing. “Now eat.” 

You yelp when he pulls you towards your chair, sitting you down. From the paper bag, he takes out a sandwich, one that you recognise is from one of fontaine’s favourite cafés, and he carefully unwraps it before raising it to your mouth.

“Wriothesley… this is a little embarrassing,” you whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself.

He doesn’t say anything, just persistently stares at you, gaze intense enough for you to give in. As you lean in to take the first bite, you are bashfully looking away from your lover, who wears a pleased expression, satisfied with the fact that you’re letting him take care of you. 

The tension from last night’s dispute hasn’t completely melted away, there are still things that need to be discussed calmly, but as you keep trying to push his hand away and battle Wriothesley’s indestructible stubbornness, he knows it will work out in the end. You love him and he loves you, and if you ever forget to visit him during lunch break again, then he’ll have to tear himself away from the prison and come up, just to meet you.

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[selineram3421]

здраствуйте можно сделать реакцию на ревность аластора

Translated:

Hi, can I get a reaction to Alastor's jealousy?

Yes.

Jealousy Headcanons

Alastor X Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ platonic to romantic, violence, all caps in bold italics = SOUND EFFECTS, implied torture/murder, gore? eyeballs, possessive? Alastor wants all of your attention ⚠

Alastor has never felt jealous! How absurd of you to think that! Hahaha! Ha... Who is that demon taking up your attention?

He always had your attention.

You could be talking to the Princess but still focus on him.

Hell, you could be checking in a guest and still keep up with his tale of the day.

But now it was quite odd.

There was a demon coming by the hotel, not to see if they were interested in the cause but to use up his friend's precious time.

Even now the beastly thing walked up to the check in counter and started up a conversation with you.

He watched from the bar.

"Hey! I see its dead as ever in here.", the dragon demon grinned as they leaned on the counter.

"Not true~", you had replied. "I checked in four new guests!"

Yes, you had a knack of persuasion. Able to convince many to do almost anything. Sometimes even him.

"Oh yeah? How many sinners walked in?", the scaled creature leaned close.

Far too close for his liking.

"I just told you how many.", you replied and placed a finger on the dragon's snout, pushing them back as well. "Personal space."

He didn't like this demon.

Everything about them set something off. Their manners, their way of speaking, the way they move-

"Oh come on, I don't bite sugar cake~", the beast took your hand and kissed their way up to your elbow.

The way they t̵̬̥̻͂̿̈́ȏ̴̒͠u̸c̷̈́̊̆́̓͘h̷e̴̖̖͒̓͂͋̎ḑ̴̣̋͜ you.

"Nope!", you yanked your arm away and held it close. "None of that.", you laughed nervously with an uncomfortable smile.

It looked wrong. Your smile should be a happy one.

"I said I don't bite!", they laughed and tried to grab at your arm again. "You know I'm messing! When's your break?", they leaned over the counter, still trying to get at something to pull you closer. "I know a good bar to go to, or we can go to the club! I'd like to see your ass in something a little less-"

"Ew, no.", you rejected and backed away.

"Come on!", they started to climb on the counter. "Its just one time! I'll even help you get in and out of your clothes.", they grabbed onto your sleeve.

That's ENOUGH!

He quickly shadow traveled and snatched the wrist of the dragon.

"I believe they said no."

The beast growled with a sneer before looking at him, freezing up once realizing who had their wrist.

"I was just joking man. Haha..", the dragon looked between him and you. "I understand! I'll back away. The slut is yours."

"Excuse me!?", you said angrily.

His antlers grew, the low static that hummed now raising up in volume.

"₵₳ⱤɆ ₮Ø ⱤɆ₱Ɇ₳₮ ₮Ⱨ₳₮?"

"The slut-"

SNAP

He held the demon's snout shut as they screamed and cried over their broken wrist.

"Now, there is a no killing rule in the hotel.", he said and then grinned menacingly. "But that doesn't apply outside."

His smile widened after seeing the panic in their eyes.

"Dear.", he turned to face you. "Has this guest overstayed their welcome?"

You stared at the beast with such a terrifyingly hateful glare.

"Yes they have.", you replied, crossing your arms. "I'd like to keep a souvenir, for memories."

And then you gave him that lovely smile.

"Alastor, do you think you could get me a dragon eye or two? I hear they make nice details to things."

"I'll make sure to get them.", he released the demon, only for his tendrils to take hold of them. "I won't be long.", he reassured, lifting up your hand to kiss the back of it.

He saw you blush before he 'escorted' the demon outside.

After finishing up (and calling Niffty to clean up), he returned with two freshly picked dragon eyes.

You thanked him with an odd little gleam in your eyes. No doubt your mind jumping idea to idea of what you could create with them.

Now with the pest gone, he would have your attention again.

Just like he wanted

"Thank you Alastor. I'll be able to make something interesting with these."

"I can't wait to see what you make this time."

Perhaps he'll ask you that question sooner than later.

Of course he has to prepare everything to properly court you.

I am using a website to translate requests. Please let me know if I have translated anything wrong.

~Seline, the person.

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