#hopefully someone wants to make use of it

[a-b-riddle]

Part Six

Can't stop thinking about reader finally giving the boys a taste of their own medicine. And hurting my own feelings in the process of it all. I wanted to make this a baddie reader chapter, but its just a saddie reader chapter. I played Down Bad by T.S on repeat while writing this. Y'all need to thank @blueladys-world for being my ventor for this part.

None of them came the next day to pick up the box of everything you had collected. By everything, quite literally everything. Birthday cards and gifts. Keepsakes from your time together they had given you. Even going as far as returning lingerie they had given you. You didn't want any trace of them in your home anymore. You were gonna have to work hard in rebuilding it to be your safe space once again.

You were surprised that someone from the expo had DM'd you. Renée was an author who had tried to stop by to your stand, but got too caught up in the day. She was in London, working on her next series installment and wanted to pick your brain. Writer to writer.

The two of you agreed on a time. She had mentioned wanting to try this restaurant the last time she visited and you already knew you would be putting that meal on a credit card. It was a bit of splurge, but after the past week you deserved it. You could even wear that sexy black number that had been collecting dust in your closet.

By the time you were done getting ready and squeezing into your dress, you looked more ready for a date than dinner with a colleague.

A colleague. You had a colleague!!!

The knock on the door pulled you from your girlish glee. You didn't need to guess who it was. Your friends knew to text you before they came over and Renée had agreed just to meet you at the restaurant.

It was one of them.

You didn't even t bother looking through your peephole before you opened the door to find Johnny standing there with a floral arrangement of your favorite flowers.

Johnny began to speak, afraid you were going to shut him down immediately no less. But no words came out. His eyes traveled up and down your body, taking you in.

A vision.

You wanted to snap at him that your eyes weren't located on your hips. But damn if it didn’t feel empowering seeing Johnny’s gaze gloss over.

"Fuck me." He swore, gathering his bearings before realizing you were dressed. In a sexy black dress and heels and makeup and oh, fuck you were going out. "Where are you going?"

"First off, none of your business," you said holding a finger up. "And secondly, what are you doing here?"

"Listen," "Bon-"

"The box is right there." You said pointing to a large cardboard box on the floor. "That's everything."

"If you just let me make it-"

"Up to me?" You cut him off again. "I'm over it. Really."

"Just give me a chance."

"Either you haven't spoken to the other two to know I am well and truly done with this situationship, or you’re hoping some half-ass apology and flowers will let you get a last fuck in and the skedaddle. So hopefully if it was latter, hopefully the former answered that for ya.”

So if that's all you came here for, I've got to get going. My reservation is at seven and it's rude to keep a friend waiting."

"It's been a week and you're already going on a date?" He accused.

"Who said anything about a date?" You didn't outright say it wasn't. Where would be the fun in that? “It's just dinner with a colleague.” You didn’t want to lie. It wasn’t a date. But you didn’t need to say it was a woman. “Hardly a date.”

“Look at the sight of ye!" He said, taking the opportunity to take a quick look at how deliciously your ass filled that dress. “A fookin’ dinner with a colleague. Like one of us would show up to a briefing like that.” You opened your compact. Not needed in the age of cellphones but loving the feminine touch.

There was something so... seductive about using a compact mirror to apply your lipstick.

“Kyle does have the legs for this dress.” You said, applying that lipstick he loves. That same shade that looked beautiful on your lips. The same lipstick you would mark all over Johnny’s body. “Believe what you want. Not my problem anymore.”

You put your compact back in your purse along with the lipstick in case you needed to reapply it after dinner.

Johnny's eyes zeroed in on your lips before his eyes met yours. That's when you felt it again. That undeniably spark of chemistry that you had with him. With all of them. That feeling that sucked the very breath from your lungs and for a moment all you could see was the man in front of you.

"Bonnie," he said placing his hands on your neck. His thumbs stroking your cheeks softly. "Just one more chance." He begged, his voice breaking. "I'm a fucking git, but I won't let you go again. I won't leave." You knew that when it came to promises, Johnny had proven that even if he didn't mean to break them, he had forgotten he made them in the first place.

But in that moment you didn't care. Even after everything, Meredith was right. You had loved them. Everything else had ended so shitty. John had blamed you. Kyle had only shown up until it was too late. And Simon. The last time you would ever hear his voice was after he said such cruel things to you.

No.

If you were done with Johnny, you won't let the last time he fucked you being a quick, rough fuck doggystyle before leaving you naked and alone in your bed.

No. The last time with Johnny needed to be good. It might make it harder to finally leave, but you needed this. You needed to know that he could still make love to you and not just fuck you like an animal in heat.

"Johnny?" You asked. Your mouth dangerously close to his. "I don't want you to fuck me."

"I don't have to," he said, starting to take a step back to give you some space before your hands reached his. Holding him in place.

He can't let you go. You couldn't let him go. Not yet. Just one more. You needed just one more time to get him out of your system. The closure you needed.

"Make love to me." You begged, your eyes pleading. "I need to know that I wasn't just something you wanted to fuck." You don't move as his eyes search yours, looking for reassurance. When you nod, his mouth softly touches your own.

His hands travel along your body, but never fully leave you. Sliding your neck to your back. Pulling your body closer to his. A hand placed on your hip so tightly he's afraid you might disappear.

There's no rush, no haste in his touch. His mouth not eager to devour you.

He's slow. With his hands, his tongue. Even when he picks you up and walks to your bedroom with your legs around his waist.

He doesn't throw you on the bed.

Not this time.

He lays you down. His body laying on top of yours. His hand skimming along your bare thighs, but not daring to travel any higher.

But damn you needed him. You wanted love making, but if he didn't get inside you soon, you weren't sure you could let him go after this. You weren't sure you would be able to leave.

"Johnny," you whimpered, pulling away from his mouth. "Please." You took his hand, putting it between your thigh. Aching for any friction.

He obeyed without hesitation. If you told him to get on his bark, he would in that moment. Anything to make you happy. Anything to keep you.

"Got to get you out of this dress first." He resting on his knees before he began to slide the black satin from your thighs to your stomach. You maneuvered, helping him undress you leaving you in nothing.

"I thought you liked the dress." You couldn't help, but tease. Your hand finding its home on the back of his neck, pulling you to him once more.

In a tone lacking any note of humor and in all seriousness, he looked at you. Really looking at you. Taking in how your smile reached your beautiful eyes before he said, "I want you bare to me when I take you."

You felt your stomach flutter at his words before he began to take off his clothes.

He joined you again. His body relaxing when they got between your legs again. His mouth traveled from your exposed neck to your nipples. Sucking and flicking them with his tongue until your back arched. Pressing harder into his mouth.

Your hands tangled in his soft brown hair before you boldly guided him to your already dripping core. He slid down your body before his hands began to push your knees apart until you were fully expose to him.

With your knees bent, Johnny settled on his stomach, placing soft kisses on your soft inner thighs. God, did he love seeing you squirm. He smiled at your tortured expression before looking down at your sex. "There she is." He said before placing a kiss on your pussy.

It wasn't sloppy. He wasn't diving in and licking at your center like so many times before. He was kissing it just as tenderly as he kissed your mouth. Slowly building it deeper and deeper. Adding tongue. Breaking away to readjust his head.

The delicious ache between your thighs began to become to unbearable. "Need you inside me." You panted. "Johnny-"

"Shhh." He soothed. "Got to warm you up first , Bonnie." He said before slipping his finger inside of you. One was all it took before your head settled against the pillows again. When your body relaxed, he added another. He would need to add three to make sure you were good and ready.

His digits stroked that spongy spot inside of you that made your toes curl. "You're barely fitting around my fingers." Johnny was a good 6 inches in length, but the girth is what always did you in. It hurt to take anything past his head into your mouth. If you fucked him without any preparation, especially after a week of no sex, he would tear you into too.

His tongue caressed your clit, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt your first orgasm creeping up on you.

"Johnny." You moaned, your fingers running through his soft brown hair.

"Give it to me, beauty." He panted. "Come on my face. Squeeze my fingers, Lass." He begged before his mouth went back to you.

It was like lightning. Your body now sensitive after being forsaken for so long. Your vision blurred and before you could process it, Johnny was sitting on his haunches between your legs, stroking his cock.

You could only nod, dazed and barely keeping a grip onto the reality of what this was.

The end.

He leaned forward, his cock nestling against you. You knew this was going to be nothing compared to his fingers. "Tell me if I need to stop."

You smiled, mockingly. Reminding him, "Not our first time together, Johnny." just our last.

"You were wrapped tight around my fingers." He gave a half smile before kissing your forehead. The gesture like a knife twisting in your heart. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"I'm ready." You brought your legs around his waist again. Pulling him to you, your arms wrapping around his neck as your mouths meet.

He presses into you. The head of his cock sliding inside just one or two inches. You body contracting around him in a small spasm. He swallows your moan and lets you adjust. He pulls away before looking down where the two of you meet.

"I could die like this, Lass." He said, his breath coming out unsteady as he tries his best to control himself. So close to just burying himself inside of you to the fucking hilt. "Seeing you like this is this first thing I want to see when I make it to the other side." You let out a choked cry as he pushes deeper inside you. Another inch. And another. And another until you're taking all of him.

He slurs something that sound like "fuck", but you are in too much of a daze to care. You arch into him, trying to get closer.

His thrusts are slow and deep. His pubic bone brushing against your clit making you whine and squirm. Begging for more.

You're not sure how long he had fucked you like that.

You needed it to stop.

You couldn't handle it. The softness. His words.

I could die like this, Lass.

Your lip quivered as you told him you wanted to be on top. You needed a moment. A chance to create a bit of space before he shattered your world yet again.

He pulled out. His absence already making you ache for him again before he settled beside you.

You squatted above his cock. Your feet flat against the mattress as you grabbed his hardness and slipping it inside of you. The sound you let out was pornographic. A high pitched, soft moan slipping from your lips as he buried himself inside of you again.

You placed you hands on his chest. Using the leverage to ride him. Your arms serving as barrier for you to get your bearings.

You used his body just as he had used yours. Throwing your head back, you moved faster and faster. Readjusting so your hands went from his chest to his stomach, giving him a better view of your connecting bodies.

His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing against your clit, and you tighten even more around. A needy whimper coming out of your throat. The sound mixing in with the sounds of his labored breathing and slapping skin as he begins to fuck up into you.

Even though he had been doing all the work for the last several minutes, you felt the tension start to creep into your calf.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You screech, barely able to hold yourself up any longer. "Ow." You hissed as the cramp took hold.

"Leg cramp?" He asked, not even faltering in his thrusts. You pathetically nod before he takes it upon himself to flip you on your back again.

"I'm going to do this every chance I can." He promises, pressing a searing kiss onto your exposed neck. "Any chance you'll give me." You can't take it. His words, his mouth, his fucking cock. It's too much. "I'm going to show you how much I want you. How much I want to fucking worship ye. Do anything to make you feel good. Not going to leave you again like that, Bonnie."

You reach for him again, pull him into a searing kiss just to shut him up. You need him to shut up. You couldn't take his false promises. You wouldn't survive it. Couldn't.

"Shit." His thrusts quicken, his thumb returning to your swollen bud. Flicking it in a way he had crafted into an art. He buries his face into your neck and you know he's getting close.

You weren't too far behind.

He didn't want to come, not yet, but this was fully out of his control. It was pathetic. A week without sex and you had him nearly coming in the first ten minutes.

But that's what you want. To see him lost in the idea that you would stay.

"Johnny." You groan out. "Please. Cum inside me."

He draws fast, beautiful circles around your clit that immediately push you over the edge. You shut your eyes tight, squeezing him like a vice as you come in strong waves, continuing to push inside you.

in out in out in out.

Deliciously clenching around him tighter and tighter until he can't take it anymore.

"Fuck," he says again, and you see it in his face, and you see it in his face, the second it's all over for him. You want to sear the image in your head. Keep it there forever. Knowing you'll never see it again. The way those enchanting blue eyes squint nearly shut before closing in complete ecstacy.

His mouth would open. A moan caught in his throat that he isn't ready to let go.

His hand closes around your hip, holding you to him while he presses as far as he can go, and it's only then do you feel his cock twitch in quick, jerky movements. He moans out your name before taking your mouth into a searing kiss.

"I fucking love you." He says. "So fucking much."

He was still under the blanket when you returned from the bathroom. You picked up your clothes up from the floor. Looking at the clock realizing you had less than five minutes to get out the door before you would be late for dinner.

"What are you doing?" he asked. You couldn't look at him. Hearing the panic in his voice almost made you stop. Tell him it really was just dinner with a colleague. A woman. That you would be back. Beg him to wait until you came home.

"I can't cancel on the dinner." You said slipping your feet into your heels. "This was a mistake."

You weren't sure why you said it. You weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. If you wanted to hurt him or make him think you regretted it when you would truthfully do it again. You would do it again and again. You would never stop.

Like Johnny, you could have died in that moment, but for a completely different. Where he would be content, you would be saved from the pain. The pain currently coursing throughout your very soul.

"Lock the door behind you." You say as you practically sprint out the bedroom. Only slowing in your stride to snatch your purse off the kitchen counter before running out. The door slamming behind you.

The restaurant was nicer than you expected. The wine alone was the price of an entree. You didn't seem to be phased at all and were relieved when Renée insisted on picking up the bill.

Your dinner had been delicious and the conversation even better. Renée wrote fantasy romance and wanted to pick your brain about a Why Choose. You had nearly spent out the over priced wine you weren't even really enjoying. Oh the irony.

"It's like all the rage now, but it's hard to make more than one appealing as the love interest. You should have seen the Goodreads comments on my last book. So many people bitched about my FMC not ending up with a character who was quite literally her adopted brother."

"So," you took a breath trying to find the words. "I'm going to be honest. I only read your latest book and I loved Luka. But I can't compare him to other MMCs you've written about so I don't know if they are similar or different. But what I can say is that I'm seeing like this trend of MMCs where they are all this dark-haired, brooding or mysterious character who dislikes mostly everyone and is only soft for either a select few or only the FMC."

"I think if you are going to write a Why Choose you need to think of guys you wouldn't mind falling in love with." You couldn't help, but think of what drew you to your boys. "One could be the leader. Someone who isn't afraid to have his neck on the line. To make sure everyone else is taken care of and being strong enough to handle the stress of that. He would be big on words of affirmation. Lifting the FMC up. For me, it would be someone that I know will take care of business. He's confident in his decision. That confidence would extend to me." You clear your throat. "If I was the FMC, that is."

"Okay." She nodded, pulling out a pen and notepad. "You don't mind if I-"

"I don't write about polygamy." Crossed that bridge. Currently trying to burn it. "So feel free."

"Another could be the one who it's so easy to fall in love with their charm. The one who falls to his knees. Wanting to worship every inch of her. The one who makes her laugh. That one to make her forget about the sadness that creeps into her bones. The one to hold her whenever he could. He's about quality time and physical touch."

"So different love languages." She said, her pen quickly scribbling.

"Yeah." You said, leaning forward. "Then there is the gift giver." Your mind went to Gaz. Most of the gifts and trinkets in the box sitting by your door had came from him. He had gotten you new earbuds when yours broke. When you were being harassed at your gym, he had bought you and him a membership at a different one. "The one who would give her the world if she asked for it. If you're going with a high fantasy then maybe the one to take note of something at a market that the FMC had been eyeing and he bought it for her. Just someone who takes notice like that."

"So acts of service would fall with all of them then you think?"

No. Simon had been the one who probably spent the least amount of money on you. He didn't praise you like John. He didn't even try to attach himself at your hip like Johnny.

But if you needed something fixed, he would come fix it himself. He'd be damned letting a strange man into your apartment. And alone? Fucking forget about it. The one who hated any sort of cardio activity outside of fucking you, but didn't hesitate in attempting to keep up with you when you wanted to go on a run and get some fresh air. If you needed something done, he didn't pay someone else to do it. He did it. If you wanted to do something, he made it happen. He made you safe.

You couldn't bring yourself to say explain it. Your eyes begin to itch. Warning you to think of something else.

So instead you just told her yeah. That they would all commit acts of service. And even in your hypothetical explanation of characters that haven't even been written yet, Simon was still the ghost among them.

"Lucky fucking girl." Renée said setting down her pen.

"Yeah." You said, downing the rest of your wine.

You walked home. The cool crisp wind feeling like it was whipping your exposed skin. It was soothing as the ghost of Johnny's touch still seemed to burn you.

You had hoped that you would get some closure, but you just felt hollow. You came twice and still manage to leave unsatisfied. Johnny wasn't malicious... he was Johnny. He wasn't like the others. Simon would never apologize and John and Kyle wouldn't try to keep reaching out after you told them know once.

Johnny couldn't stand you being mad at him. He never could. He would beg and beg for your forgiveness. You didn't regret fucking him one last time. He needed to know that you were well and truly done. There was no going back from this.

"Hey, Love!" You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a voice coming from a source you couldn't see. You perked up, quickly scanning the dimly lit street before your eyes settled on a cluster of shadows just across the street. "Yeah." The slurring voice said again. "Talking to you gorgeous!"

You resumed your trek home. Now picking up your pace. "Don't be like that! Where ya off to?" The voice followed you. You kept your gaze straight. You were three minutes away. Three minutes and you would be at your building.

Three minutes.

Three minutes.

"What's the rush?" Another voice joined the cacophony. "Just want to have a chat."

You turned. They were maybe twenty feet away. You kept your eyes glued to them as your started to make a run for it.

You had made it about ten feet before your body collided with someone. Firm hands gripped your upper arms, steading you as you threatened to fall back.

You sucked in a breath of air, ready to scream when you looked up. It was too dark to make out the man's facial features. He was tall. His head eclipsing the street lamp just behind him. You shook beneath his hands. The voices behind you now silent.

"Keep walking." You didn't need to see his face. You knew that deep timber voice anywhere. He released you from his grip before letting you pass him.

"Just wanted to have a chat." You heard one of them try to reason. "No harm done."

"No harm done yet." Was the last thing you heard Simon say before you broke out into a full fledged run.

[koinotame]

very random idea but some flavour of sagau where you end up in the game but sharing the traveler's body rather than having your own. the truth eventually comes out and now everyone and their dog is desperately trying to spend time with the traveler in the hopes of catching your attention, while the traveler is like =_= because suddenly it's like they don't exist anymore. every time someone approaches them it's always them trying to ask about you (how are you? what types of things (and people) do you like? do you want anything? are they to your liking?). you feel bad so you try to take a back seat and only come out when you're alone with the traveler and paimon, but this just makes everyone else even more desperate and determined to catch even a glimpse of you. alternatively the traveler could revel in this twofold—the others claim to be devoted to you, but it's always been them who you experience the world through. and there's something very, very special about their very existence being so intrinsically tied with yours that they hardly exist outside of being used by you now. and hopefully forever.

[darkbluekies]

King Edmund and Hedwig drabbles: running away but changing your mind and getting lost

Yandere!king & female!yandere x reader (female in Edmund’s case and gn in hedwigs)

I had a request similar to this like a year ago, but i deleted it because I couldn't come up with anything ... and now I have so ... that's annoying.

And this is probably the nicest Edmund has ever been. Weird.

BUT HEY I LOVE THE RELATIVES

Warnings: weapons, but actually pretty fluffy

King Edmund:

You had taken a horse and gone away into the forest. But here you are, sitting by a tree with the horse tied to a branch, hugging yourself and crying. What had you done? You finally realize how stupid you are. Why did you leave him? Why?

You're cold and lonely. Thieves are roaming the forest and you know that they would be delighted to find the queen all by herself. But you don't know the way home, and if you get up on your horse you risk going even further away. Staying in one place will be the best decision if you want to be found ... hopefully by the right people.

Suddenly, after what feels like (and probably have been) hours, you notice a sound.

"Y/N, your game is up."

Edmund!

You stand up and turn around, seeing him and his knights around you, their horses looking at you dumbly. The knights hold out their bayonets, but you don't care. You run over to Edmund, throwing yourself in his arms and crying ― crying in sorryness, in relief over being found by the right people, crying in fear and shame. Edmund's taken by surprise at first. He had been fully prepared to threaten you to get you to come back. Edmund's arms lock around you, securing your head into his shoulder.

"Lower your fucking weapons!" he tells the knights angrily. "Are you insane pointing them at us like that?!"

He turns to you, but before he has the chance to ask you how you're feeling of why you were so stupid to escape from him, you've already started rambling.

"I'm sorry, Edmund!" you sob. "I'm so sorry! I don't know why I did that! I regretted it immediatly, I promise! I wanted to go back but I-I lost my way and-" You can't finish your sentence, your breathe hitching with sobs.

"Shh, it's okay", he cooes, kissing your forehead. "You're back where you belong now, you're safe."

"I wanted to go back, I promise ... but I didn't know which way was the right one. I'm so sorry!"

You cry against his shoulder, hugging him tightly. Weirdly enough, you have never been happier to see someone that has hurt you. Edmund's your husband, you have accepted that. You hadn't realized that you had started to like him before now.

"It's okay, my dear", Edmund reassures you in a sweet, hushed tone and rests his head on top of yours, enjoying having you in his arms again. He rocks you back and forth gently, as if to coo you. "There's no need to cry, I'm here now. You will never have to worry when I'm here. You know that I will take care of everything."

His words are so comforting, so belieavable. You nod against his shoulder.

"Let's go home", he says. "You're cold."

He lifts you up on his white horse before cimbing up himself in front of you. You wrap your arms around his waist and hide your face into his warm back, crying even more. Why isn't he mad at you? You betrayed him. Edmund can't bring himself to be mad. You're genuinly sorry, he can't be mad at you for making a mistake ... a ridicolously stupid mistake, perhaps, but a mistake nonetheless. He needs to comfort you, not punish you.

"Make sure Y/N's horse comes with us", he says before riding off with you behind him.

Hedwig:

If you desperately had to fight with Hedwig about how controlling she is and storm off ... why did it have to be in a foreign country? You want to punch yourself for your idioticy. She's suffocating, yes, but you do love her ... somehow you still love her. And you want nothing more than to go back to her and have her hold you. How will you find her when you can't ask for directions back to her vacation house and can't trace your steps back. Why do European countries have to have such narrow, maze-like alleyways?!

You've found yourself on a bench in front of a cafe in the staking sun. You'll have to get up and look for the right way later, but your feet are probably bleeding.

"Y/N?!" you hear Hedwig's voice suddenly shriek. "Oh, my Gosh, Y/N!"

She runs over to the bench and you hurry to wrap your arms around her waist, hiding your face into her stomach. You can't help but sniffle in relief and sorry ... remembering how you left the house.

"I've been looking all over for you!" Hedwig pants. "I was so worried!"

"I'm sorry, Hedwig", you cry into her stomach. "For everything. I-"

She hugs your head closer and kisses the top of your head. "It's okay, I have forgiven you! "

She sits down on the bench next to you and cup your head into her hands. You sob.

"I'm just so happy to see you alive", she says in relief and brushed your sweaty hair out of your face. "But, dear, you're dehydrated! You'll pass out!"

She takes out a bottle of water from her handbag and feeds you half of it, before water starts to run down your chin.

"Why haven't you been drinking water?" she asks worriedly. "You could have passed out and who knows how dangerous that could have been?!"

"i didn't have any money", you say quietly. "I'm so sorry, I tried to find my way back, because I regret that I left ... but I couldn't ask for directions. I can't speak the language and I didn't have my phone and-"

"It's okay. I forgive you. But please don't do it again. It's dangerous. And I was so worried. My father was close to calling the cops and having them look for you."

"I'm sorry, Hedwig."

She hugs you, letting you rest your heavy head on her shoulder.

"It's okay", she reassures you. "I'm not mad at you. You know that I only want your best, right?"

You nod.

"You need to cool down", she says and stands up, holding out her hand to you. "Let's go get you some ice cream."

"My feet hurt really bad", you mumble.

"I will buy you new shoes too, and bandage and everything you need. Will you come with me? Please?"

You sigh and take her hand. Hedwig is the most confusing person you know, because how can she be so horrible, yet so magical?

[aka-indulgence]

Please do tell us more about the dealer. Perhaps how the two met or more about his personality? Love your writing btw and how you pulled me in to hyperfixate on him aswell.

I’ve been thinking of how they met for a while. At one point I’d imagine you’d play buckshot roulette… but I like the idea of you knowing each other before that point.

In my scenario, you work in the club he haunts. Maybe he owns the place but makes someone else run for him. All you know is that you don’t meet him when you get hired, but he’s a constant presence.

And people are scared of him enough that it’s almost like he isn’t even an… earthly entity.

“No you uh… don’t want to meet the boss. It doesn’t have a pretty face.”

You hear gunshots on the top floor. The first time you hear them you freak out, but everyone else in the club don’t seem to bother.

“It’s playing another round…”

You feel like someone who’s out of a secret, and when you ask, they only say two words.

“Buckshot roulette.”

From its name alone you get a good idea of what kind of game that is and feel a shudder. What kind of a man plays such a dangerous game every night…?

It isn’t a while until you meet the fabled…. person(?).

Sometimes a shadowy face looks down from the second floor. And you know it’s not the cigarette guy who always seems to hang up there.

Did you make eye contact? You can’t tell from all the way down here.

Then you meet him for the first time when he goes down for a drink. Turning around to see an awfully frightening face- you can’t help but scream. He doesn’t look human- you think!? With a grin full of knives, hollowed out sockets for eyes, and a shotgun strapped to his back, you’d think you were staring down the face of death (which, for certain people, it is).

And just to add to that, he has a hole staining blood down his messy shirt.

Your scream makes him pause- blink for a few seconds. Then he laughs- loudly, enough that it unnerves everyone else in the club. No one stares too long, no one wants to anger the guy(?) with a shotgun.

“You must be the new gal, aren’t you?”

That’s when you realize… this is The Boss.

“Be a lamb and grab me some beers.”

“Do you-? Are you… need… medical…”

You unknowingly endear yourself to the Dealer quickly, from how concerned you seemed, and rolling with the punches. Most people who’ve never seen him turn tail and leave, and here you were, doing your best to fulfill his request.

It makes him actually visit the club more often just to see you, sometimes encountering you on the way home and walking you to the nearest bus stop… and every time, he quickly disappears before anyone else sees him. He’s an enigma. You don’t know why he seems to linger around you, but if you’re making the boss happy, you see it as a win.

As for him, he’s quickly charmed by you, and enjoys your company. Actually gets disappointed when he finishes a game and finds you’d gotten home already. He wants you to stay around a long while. Hopefully, you’ll never have to play a round of buckshot roulette with him…

[orbital-inclination]

Moltendreams - Error Sans Alias - ??? Pronouns: he/him, they/them Personality: Petty, holds a mean grudge, Big Tsundere, Complete Shut-in, Quick Tempered and Moody, fanatic with his interests, externally aggressive when in actuality he is quite shy. An absolute troll. His favorite passtime is messing with others. Paradoxically touch starved and suffers from haphephobia. Reckless with his own well being.

This variant of Error is capable of both love and compassion, he just hides it under a grumpy exterior and several layers of denial and self-destructive dogma. Other Notes:

He is reluctant to harm Papyrus directly, and will generally avoid encounters with him in any given AU.

Had a good relationship with his dad/W.D Gaster, actually.

Relates to "pest" pets; rats, mice, snakes, spiders, beetles, he loves them all.

Would have a pet rat of his own if he wasn't afraid of it shocking itself by chewing on his wires.

His favorite kind of chocolate is mixed with a hazelnut filling.

Considers Frisk to be a younger sibling.

-More Info undercut! -

Abilities: Error uses wire instead of string. Wire and summoned attacks can and do hold an electric charge. His presence alone messes with electronic devices. Residents of a particular AU may get a few minutes or seconds of warning as sweaters get staticy, computer screens glitch out, and anything with a battery spontaneously dies or gets super charged. By creating a circle of alternating RED and CYAN bones, Error can create a sort of reverse faraday cage. While Error can produce electricity, he can't directly control the voltage. He can only hope to direct it. If you do touch him, you will find his clothes zappy with static. Do NOT attempt to fight him in humid or watery environments for, hopefully, obvious reasons.

About: Fed up with the anomaly's time looping shenanigans and watching his family torn apart, Sans injected himself with modified DETERMINATION magic and began messing with things he really had no business messing with: his late father's research, all in the hope of separating the anomaly from Frisk. He wanted to save the kid too. But something went catastrophically wrong and as a result he was ripped from reality, and caught in the space in-between. Eventually, he escaped but not unscathed. Error doesn't remember much, he doesn't remember the events described above, at all, but has vague memories of Papyrus, Frisk and his father. They were good memories. He misses them. He can't find his original AU and secretly fears it may have been the first world he destroyed.

He is still looking for it.

Outcode Politics: Error views all outcodes the same way he views every iteration of the original timeline that even slightly deviates: as glitches to be terminated. Bugs in the code he needs to hammer out before it all goes to hell. Error believes that by destroying deviating timelines and AUs, he is preserving the original. He is “saving’’ it by trimming the branches back. Despite his position as the self proclaimed Destroyer, Error is not above biases and making exceptions. 

Error believes he is one of the glitches in the code that must be destroyed, but he won’t let just anyone dust him for good. Ultimately, he wants someone in his family to do it. That is, if he can find them first. Error has a different view on the Spirits of Creation that Fable/Ink does. (Spirits of Creation are in-universe term and stand-in for the creator of an AU). He calls them eldritch parasites. Abominations that should be avoided at all costs. And absolutely should not be encouraged or interacted with. Though he won't admit it out loud, Error is terrified of them. OG Error @.LoverofPiggies/CrayonQueen) Moltendreams @.me

[luvrxbunny]

jolene ─ ★ joel miller x f! reader

a/n: i actually wasn’t gonna post today but then i remembered that i had this just sitting in my drafts lmao sooo enjoy!!

wc: 404

warnings: 18+ MNDI, public handjobs, non-con voyeurism(?)- 1/2 ppl are aware that someone is watching

Joel takes you to a bar he used to frequent due to you "wanting to more about his lore" he walks in and instantly turns red at the way the chatter kicks up, about four too many ‘welcome back's’ being thrown his way. hes taking the both of you to 'his booth' when he feels a hand on his chest, stopping him.

"my oh my. as i live and breathe.. no way the king miller is back in the house." the lady is tall, a little taller than joel with heels, she's blonde, in a sparkling blue dress with a little too much makeup on. her hands never leave joel's chest, only hitting it lightly at the end of her sentence. you can feel joel's hand tense in your hold before he answers her. "hey jolene." you recognize the name instantly. one of his exes.

he eventually cuts off her incessant talking to let her know he's on a date night and promptly takes the two of you back to the booth. he sits beside you and apologizes over and over for the interaction, understanding how nerve-wracking that must've been for you.

througout the dinner, every time you look over to where jolene's boisterous laughter is coming from, you see her already watching you and joel. so you give her a show.

cut to joel hunched over his food, gripping his napkin in his hand to try and regulate the way you're making him feel. you're watching his face tediously, trying to make him cum as quickly as possible. hopefully getting one of those orgasms that trembles through his whole body, making him limp and pliant for you after.

his hips begin to thrust into your hand and he sits back, his face to the ceiling and you get to watch his adam's apple bob as he swallows all the spit pooling in his mouth.

he peeks at you from the corner of his eye before they roll back and shut upon seeing that you've been watching him this whole time. he mumbles "m'gonna cum." with a shaking breath before leaning on your shoulder, letting you feel his panting breath against your neck.

you look up to make sure she's still watching. you see her face contorted in disgust and disbelief before panning up to meet your eyes and you simply smile at her before tilting down to joel, kissing him as he cums.

[hollandorks]

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

interlude three

Summary: After the sudden deaths of her mother and grandmother, y/n is forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke her heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, she vows to get to the bottom of her former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what she’s expecting.

a/n: I'm alive!!! I don't want to talk about how long it's been since the last chapter because it's a little bit embarrassing. Anyways, I'm back! Hopefully! So here's a brief little Bruce POV to hold you over until the next real chapter, which should hopefully only be a week or two maybe? (Also, I apologize in advance....)

Series Masterlist

word count: 1.2k

Despite everyone who was trying hard to keep her alive, y/n felt utterly alone. 

Bruce's POV

“Bruce, my dear boy, I don’t tell you often enough, but you are…so stubbornly stupid it makes me feel twice my age.” 

Bruce startled and whirled around to face Alfred. The older man was leaning casually along the work station where Bruce’s video equipment was, his cane next to him, legs crossed at the ankles. 

Bruce opened his mouth and then closed it again. 

It was noon now, and he still hadn’t been to bed. He’d been out late staking out Maverick’s again, hoping to catch a lead on Frank Gallo or anyone that could lead him to the man, when Alfred’s call had come. Security breach. Elevator. The panic had almost killed him. Alfred’s next call came in when Bruce was almost home, telling him that everyone was safe. So he had changed direction and left to clean himself up to make an appearance as Bruce instead. 

And still the fear lingered. Someone had been in his home, feet away from y/n, and he had yet to find any proof of how they had done it. 

He wouldn’t–couldn’t–sleep until he was certain she was safe. 

“What did I do this time?” Bruce finally asked. He turned back to the security footage he was pouring over. It terrified him that they could have been so close to y/n. That he could have been too late. That he could have–

He shut the thought down as quickly as it came. No use dwelling on it now. 

“What haven’t you done? You imploded the most important relationship you have–repeatedly, if we’re being honest. You keep secrets from her but toe the line so recklessly it’s going to blow up in your face. You let your emotions get the best of you. And that’s just lately. Shall I go on?” Alfred recrossed his ankles in the other direction. 

Bruce grit his teeth but said nothing. He restarted the security footage from the beginning and paused it frame by frame. A loud clack echoed around the abandoned station each time he smashed the button to go to the next frame. 

“Let’s change tactics then. How long are you going to let her live in fear before you tell her that the Batman is watching over her from inside her home?” 

Bruce’s jaw ached with the force of his clenched teeth. Still, he said nothing. First y/n had yelled at him, now Alfred. He knew his behavior was…abysmal to say the least. But he had more important things to focus on than everyone’s emotions, his own included. 

He had to find Frank Gallo, and take down the rest of the family, once and for all. When that was done, when y/n was safe, he would think about all the ways he had ruined his relationship with her. 

“Are you listening to me, Bruce?” 

“I am trying,” Bruce said with a smack of his fist against the table, “to figure out who the fuck broke into my home and threatened y/n!” His voice echoed loudly around him, setting the bats to fluttering and chittering above them. He restarted the footage once again. 

Alfred made a noise in his throat. “She hasn’t slept at all.” 

Something oily slid down Bruce’s spine. “Neither have I.” It was a deflection and they both knew it. It killed Bruce to know y/n was so scared. But there wasn’t anything he could do about it–other than find those responsible and make them pay. She wouldn’t want his comfort, wouldn’t want him to hover, so he was doing the next best thing and trying to end it. 

Alfred sighed. “All I’m saying is–” 

“I know what you’re saying.” 

“Then why do I have to keep saying it?” 

Bruce went back to ignoring the older man. Let Alfred think what he wanted. Bruce had work to do. Nothing would get better until Frank Gallo and the rest of his family and cronies were gone for good. 

What gives you the right to act like this? she’d asked, all of her anger turned towards Bruce like a roaring inferno. What gave him the right? He had admitted it to her right before that–I give too much of a shit. 

She didn’t know he was still in love with her. That he always had been. 

He’d hurt her so badly she couldn’t see what was right in front of her face–who he was, how he felt, what it was doing to him. If she would just open her eyes, she would know. 

Instead, she had yelled at him. 

He deserved it. He knew he deserved it. But walking in and seeing her hold Officer Martinez’s hand…it made him crazy. He had acted like the worst type of bastard without even thinking. It was pure instinct, the urge to protect her even from a guy like Martinez rising so strongly within him that it was almost as if he had blacked out. Like someone else had taken over his body. 

She rarely ever got mad at him. It had only happened a few times throughout their many years together. It was a sight to behold, her rage, and he had been equal measures impressed and angry both. 

“I don’t have time for this,” Bruce said after long stretch of silence. His voice was raw with exhaustion and emotion. “Either help me figure this out or go back upstairs.” 

He felt rather than saw Alfred bristle. He waited to get berated yet again, but Alfred merely pulled up the footage on another screen and got to work. 

They spent a few minutes in silence, Bruce’s eyes burning from lack of sleep, his thoughts churning. She hasn’t slept. He ached to go upstairs, to tell y/n that she was safe with him, that he would never let anything happen to her. 

But it already had, and all of it had been his fault. 

He knew without a doubt, just as he had known three years ago, that she was safest far away from him. And look what had happened already–the more she’d become entangled with him, with the Batman, the worse things got. She had spent three years in Bludhaven, far away from him, perfectly safe. And the minute she had come home to Gotham, come home to him…it had all gone to shit. Really it had gone to shit before that–when her grandmother had left the tower for the last time. 

Bruce liked to think that was his fault, too, not that he’d ever it admit it out loud. 

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty,” Alfred said into the silence. His voice was gentle, almost placating. 

“Mm.” It wasn’t working, then, Bruce thought. He already felt guilty enough. 

“I hate seeing you like this. Both of you.” Alfred sighed again. “I just think that talking about it–all of it–would help you both. It might ease the strain of…everything else going on.”

Bruce couldn’t see how it could help, only how it would make things worse. But he didn’t say that to Alfred, merely nodded and kept working. 

Two nights later, all Bruce could think about was that Alfred had been right. 

He should have told y/n the truth while he had the chance.

taglist:

@ktficworld @grunge-n-roses5 @anon-cat-posts @projectdreamwalker @warsaur @lachillona02 @crazyunsexycool @doetic @alexiris @that-girl-named-alex @harry-bowie-mercury @vaniasagitaa @widows-writings @missing-loki @exactlyelegantwizard @miriamnox @mavenmoon @eclipsedplanet @spencerrxids @giulia2372 @katara-is-a-goddess-changemymind @janezat @incorrectmarvelquotesss @spiritdetectivel @i-have-no-life-charlie @ilovemybabes @curseyouperrytheplatypus @lightsinmycity @yondiii @spideybv28 @fictionalmansl4t

[since64bce]

Hell Within Hell

Alastor-Radio Demon- x Sinner reader

Synopsis: Alastor has inhibited hell for years. He knows it's ins' and outs'. But when it comes to him, his coppery heart, and an unexpected new-found perspective on his assistant, a new hell is created for him as he tries to wrestle with the shiny new concept of love. Just a few short pieces of writing and some head cannons'. Nothin' fancy.

Word count: Don't know. Warnings: Alastor.

By gosh what a tragedy. What a wonderful, terrible tragedy. What a questionable, concerning tragedy. How lovely it is. How problematic. Did Shakespeare end up in hell for all the souls he stole in the theatre? I pray for him if that was ever the case. And not because his soul wandered into eternal damnation. Oh no, there's a fate much worse than that, and his name is Alastor.

When the heart becomes stale it also becomes a waste of space, a space that could be used for more lung capacity instead. Because of this reason, Alastor often had thoughts of compulsively ripping it right out, especially, strangely, and more so now that it was finally of use. If Shakespeare really was in hell, Alastor wanted to kill him. If he was a bug, he'd place the man beneath Nifty's blade. And if he was in Heaven- which would be unwarranted given all the hearts he's crushed- Alastor would find a way to drag him down into Hell to watch his tragic little heart suffer for eternity. Because it's his texts in which Alastor has stumbled upon. And it's from his texts in which Alastor has learnt about love and all it has to offer.

Alastor is a refrained lover, if you could call the demon a lover at all. At best he's okay at love, if thats what you wanted to call whatever the thing Alastor thinks "love" is.

Being an overlord, you'd think he was capable of anything.

Uhh lower your expectations sis.

Problem No.1 with Alastor (which was really hard to find) is that he's not really the lovey dovey type. Does he get passionate about certain things? Of course darling. But when was the last time it was about a lowly sinner like yourself? (Hear the crickets babe? Yea pretty much that).

However I feel like this is true only for a few years after he's met you.

I'd say it's a "You-fell-first-(but then lowkey realised it ain't never happening type thing so you stopped)-he-fell-harder-(and got confused so didn't pursue it for like six fuxking months)

Being an overlord you'd think he was capable of anything but in all honestly love confuses this sweet🍬, sweet🍭, neurotic���� boy.

His heart is in tatters and moth eaten like some dusty old drape. Nobody's ever come into his life that mattered to him much before.

And when I say "mattered" it doesn't come under the "slightly useful to him but couldn't care less" umbrella either.

Like it's a genuine feeling of not wishing for somebody to just fucking up and leave his demonic little world.

It's as if you're just so convenient for him to be able to slot you into his crazy, batshit puzzle of a life. And you fit so perfectly and meticulously, and you make it look rather complete, that he just doesn't really feel he needs you gone.🙂🙃

And thats his very lopsided version of love that he hasn't created a full understanding around yet. But hopefully will... one day.💕

Why would someone like him like someone like you!?? 🤯😧

Oh please bitch Alastor in Alastor's world is a special, clever little princess, nobody can top him.

When he first laid eyes on you, you were just another darling sack of shit staying at the Hazbin sorry not sorry. (Boo me idc this is how your love story goes 😤)

You weren't special at all. In fact, to him you were just a normal bad sinner doing the normal bad sinner things. There was nothing alluring about you, there was not a single aura or attractive quirk or special little something on the inside nor the outside that made him love you. You were like a crusty little stray dog, period. Not even a cute one.

In fact not even your death story was cool you got like hit by a bus or something idfc but it was nothin striking babes

You weren't even that bad of a sinner tbh. You were just a lying cheating fu k that got hit by a bus before you could find Jesus and repent

Anyways then you have Radio Demon, Overlord, Mr.Alastor who can do funny shit with his shadows oh dear lord save me

So as I said before, you, my dear, had a little crush for him first. Or, more realistically, you caught the love bug. Because don't we all know how little Nifty loves her bugs (dead).

Yes, you hiccupped on your blushy, fluffy feelings because trying to find genuine love and care within Ali's cold little heart at the time would've been damn near impossible. Like being stuck in a maze within a maze within a stone wall that had no exit.

So, yes dear, a hard pill to swallow ik but you got there in the end .

Over the years following, you and Alastor became a nice little duo. Like an elegant doberman and it's small rat-dog companion (guess which ones which).

Everybody in the Hazbin hotel has their own little niche, whether it be porn-starring or bar tending.

Yours was running errands for Alastor.

In his eyes you were comparable to an assistant even though the title was never officially yours. And he didn't want it to be yours because the role of facilities manager was a one person job.

Besides you did other things than just hotel errands.

You were more like an assistant Alastor. And that suited the both of you just fine. To Alastor you were remarkably useful, to you Alastor was an interesting boss and a form of strange company you somehow enjoyed. His presence, albeit staticky, was charming. He was a hard one to shake off, that man.

And then he began noticing you. And not just in the general way. I mean thats how it all starts off doesn't it?

It starts with a moment.

His boring "normie" of a companion... charmed him in some way. He didn't know how.

It was after one of his avid radio broadcasts when he switched off the set and just sat there in the silent darkness illuminated by the controls. Not even his voice filled the air, which was a strange noise to behold. Oddly peaceful, huh.

And then it got him thinking about your voice and how it could come and disrupt his blissful, peaceful silence at any moment. Pestering him with something new, as the very un-special sound of it filled the room.

You did like to disrupt things.

You've had your fair share of moments you've disrupted.

With your normal voice.

Filling the room.

It got his cogs spinning as he thought about you so normal and dull and boring. But it seemed that he really did know quite a lot about you.

You were never a drug addict in the middle world, never any kind of addict, never any kind of slave to anything or anybody but the lies you told others. Admirable achievement in this crowd down here.

But still, what a boring Mary Sue.

Typical Mary Sue behaviour that you should also try and recover from your compulsive lying, and actually bother to make use of the facilities the Hazbin Hotel had to offer.

Charming. But petty.

Just today he had asked you about an errand you'd run, only to find out that you had lied about running it.

You were supposed to have given some bird food to the cuckoo in the cuckoo clock. It was a fools errand he had given you to make you go away for a second. But you had told him you had actually done it.

Until you admitted you lied.

Inside the broadcast tower, Alastor let out a quiet laugh. He didn't know why it was quiet, he was the only person in the tower, and even if he were with other people its not like he'd care.

But what was so funny?

He thought back to the conversation: "I don't know what you're talking about," you had told him. "I never fed the stupid clock." And then he said, "Oh dear, well thats quite contrary to what I was told before." And you said, "damnit" under your breath and walked away, annoyed at yourself for having broken your sobriety, going to go repent to Charlie for the fifth time that day.

Again, Al found himself smiling ever wider and trying to keep his steady flow of chuckles beneath his fingers. Soon he was hunched over, finding other stories about you drifting to his head.

Unbeknownst to him, the layer of ice on his heart was slowly beginning to melt in the section that he reserved for you.

He realised you were such a funny fickle little thing, he realised he was quite fond of you as his assistant. It made no sense. And after the laughter was over something else took over.

A sense of something between fiery anger and grief contaminated his pores. He realised he had let you into his heart. He tried to quickly freeze it over again, however, it was too late, it seemed you had already brushed its surface.

The next day when you two were busying yourselves with errands, you came across each other in a hallway.

There was something off about his face on this particular day. Because when you looked at his face which was watching over your face, you never found his signature smile. For once you saw his lips relaxed. For once you saw his elusive eyes really looking at you like nobodies ever looked at you before.

And then he walked right past like nothing happened. However something had happened. Something incredibly unexpected and wrong. Radio Demon, Overlord, Mr. Alastor had found someone who mattered.

Boring, normie, lacklustre, lukewarm, little. Old. You.

It's a quiet day at the Hazbin Hotel. But it's always a quiet day isn't it? Hell is rock bottom, and once you hit rock bottom, well, what's the point in not wandering around for a bit?

You were only here because Charlie picked you up before the Sinners mentality could reach you.

At the same time, you were also only here because of Alastor.

Alastor, the lean, lanky overlord which you couldn't help but like somewhat. Cold and calculating despite the warm colours he wore. charming and pleasant despite his scary appeal. He was one reason why you enjoyed your stay at the Hazbin Hotel.

But he was also one reason why you hated it.

Lately anyway.

You've tried to bring it up with him but he simply won't listen. He doesn't even laugh anymore he just grimaces. It's been two whole months since he last smiled at you and you feel as though your beginning to get withdrawals- as sappy as that sounds. But it's true. As funny as it is to say, hell seems less pleasant, and even the Hazbin, despite Miss Morningstar's lovely presence, is falling short of joy and dunking deeper into the gloomy reality that is damnation.

They say that reality is just your perception. However, why has your perception been so fragmented by just a absence of a single smile?

Oh but you knew didn't you? You still loved him.

You thought you were past it but you weren't. You're such a brilliant liar that you can even trick yourself into believing things that aren't true. How remarkable. How depressing.

Ugh.

He's probably finally gotten bored of you. In fact, you've probably bored him into some kind of chronic depression that triggers every time he see's your boring, depressing face. Double ugh. And now you can't stand to look in the mirror. Sometimes you lay awake at night wondering what you've done to him and if it's you that's broken his perfect smile or something else. But everything he does points at you, and with this ridiculous jacket of blame on your shoulders you don't know how to look in his eyes anymore without feeling humiliated.

Oh and now he's behind you, watching you sit beneath the stupid cuckoo clock with a pile of birdseed in your palm. Humiliating? No something worse than that. You must look ridiculous. Desperate. Ridiculously desperate.

'Well, I feel it's too late now don't you? That ridiculous lie is still a lie, also the bird isn't real if you didn't get the memo,' taunted the inevitably superficial voice of the radio host. You could feel him behind you but you couldn't see him. The mans presence was very strong, a quirk, perhaps, that came with being an overlord. Although at times you could hardly tell when he'd enter a room at all. 'Now, why are you sitting, staring at the wall like a dummy? Did dear Charlie put you in time out for being a liar?'

'Fuck you, Alastor,' you huffed, 'you know I'm working on it.'

'Not making much progress I see.'

You could hear his non-smile in his voice. You didn't even turn around, you didn't have to, plus, you didn't want to.

'After you're finished working out your lying problem, perhaps you should focus on your swearing problem,' he said. You could hear the ruffling of Al's suit as he presumably crouched down, and then the cold lick of his breath as he got close to your ear. 'It's not so classy, my dear, for someone like you to have such a foul mouth.'

'Fuck- I know- just fuck off!'

You heard Alastor tut behind you, sighing disapprovingly.

You turned and looked him in the eyes. They looked bemused, however, his mouth told you a different story. He looked slightly chilling without that smile of his. Perhaps that was another reason for your sleeping troubles lately. 'Go ahead and do it you creep, kill me, I know ya wanna,' you declared, he cocked his head to the side, terrifyingly interested in your proposition. You had to resist the urge to swallow. 'Also now I've seen you without a smile I think I've seen it all, kill me I'm ready.'

You were half joking, but you still watched Alastor out of the corner of your eye, a habit you had developed.

'No.'

'That's not like you, Alastor.'

'What can I say? I am a man of many surprises. And you're far too valuable to me to kill you, assistant.' He added the last part in slowly, watching you like a hawk.

And then you saw it.

The faintest glimmer of tooth.

The littlest crease beside his lip.

And did he just call you valuable? A compliment from Alastor? Kill me now, you thought, it wasn't gonna get much better than this. And then Alastor's distinct vocals piped up again, 'ha ha! You look dumbfounded, sweetheart. Is there something I can help you with?'

His smile disappeared. And so did that feeling of hope in your stomach, leaving you empty again, and so you said, 'what do you even want Alastor? why'd you come find me? You're just toying with me now.'

'I'm afraid I toy with everyone, assistant.'

You felt him watching you as you crossed the room and put the birdseed in the bin, you felt him watching you as you dusted off your hands and made your way to the door.

'Smile,' you ordered. One final attempt.

Once again he cocked his head, raising his eyebrows, no expression in the mouth and whatever expression was in the eyes seemed to be told in another language. 'And what do I get if I do that for you?'

'My smile.'

-

Alastor has been a mess lately.

A clean mess no doubt. But he's been walking around half naked for months, alas, he can't bring himself to smile, which was more like a piece for clothing for him now more than anything. It got to the point where the Radio Demon thought that it had finally lost it's sincerity and emotion. But clearly not, as it's absence has been due to nothing but sincerity and emotion, two things which Alastor had never really exercised. Two things which were out of his hands.

And it's been ever since he found you wandering the hellish plains of his mind.

Yes, he was the skeleton in the closet, the monster beneath the bed, the not-your-typical-spooky-guy. But maybe he's finally found a weakness, and that thought slapped his smile right off his face.

And his assistant was all to blame.

You were all to blame.

He found his hands shaking as he looked at you, he carefully analysed that angry look about you as you stood rigidly at the door. There was nothing threatening about you, your face wasn't scary like his was, however he found himself mildly irritated by your defiances' today, mildly saddened at your obvious depression, and mildly livid that he couldn't get you off his mind.

So no, he wasn't threatened, you just mildly made him want to pull his hair out.

'Smile.'

'And what do I get if I do that for you?'

'My smile.'

Your smile? And what was that supposed to mean? Was he supposed to rip your mouth off and take your smile for his own? He looked at you, he looked at your lips, imagined touching them, imagining slicing them off you as your blood spilled and you screamed. And then he found himself putting the thought down, finding that he didn't really want that thought. How strange. Your smile wouldn't suit his face anyway, it looks much sweeter on you.

'If you smile at me I'll smile at you back,' you clarified, still with that rather hostile look in your eyes. You didn't really look in the smiling mood darling.

But it gave Alastor pause for thought.

Oh. So that's what you meant. Interesting. An equal exchange.

Al brought the memory of your smile up in his mind. It was pleasant enough. Charming enough... Oh who was he kidding? Sometimes he wished you could tell him the lies he told himself so he'd believe them better.

Your smile. It was sweet and dainty and lovely, and there was not a night that had passed in which he hadn't thought about it in some fleeting way.

Squeezing, hurting, reaching. He wanted to rip his heart out right then and there as he looked at you glaring at him from the doorframe.

And that's when he walked right up to you without warning. You barely had time to back away. And he took in your wonderful face with all of your wonderful features, from the lovely curve of your nose, to the shape of your very skull, to the fat of your cheeks to the pigment of your skin (which had turned wonderfully rosy beneath his fingers).

And then he took in your smile.

And he realised he was smiling too.

And he was so angry with himself, and irritated at you for making him feel this way. And so he leaned in and carefully placed his lips onto the corner of your mouth. Wanting to do it again and again and again but worried that he could smudge away the perfection that was you.

In the end he just grinned at you.

...

And then walked away like nothing happened.

...

A/N- Ik the tiny one shot at the end is shit but it's like 1 am and I have school tomorrow, I've watched like 4 episodes and I don't even know who tf Lucifer is yet so don't even come at me bitchens 🖕🥷

[argreion]

𝑵𝒊𝒄𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒆❜𝒔 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔 — For my next daily, I guess we’ll do headcanons! The first thing I did that made me kinda pop off! So… I know I did an SFW and NSFW one, but we’ll just do NSFW this time. I might repeat a little, given I did those headcanons nearly 2 - 3 months ago! Kinda updated after thinking of my ideal Leon. (Just lazy today… I don't expect many people to like this considering it's not like smut smut.)

𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 841

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 — Leon hairy pussy munch so obviously (eating out), Leon in lingerie so possibly feminization if you think about it? Also not? Just man is enjoying lingerie. Creampie talking with eating out. Sensory deprivation with temperature play alongside it. Dry sexter Leon. Lazy P in V. P in V a LOT.

First… We start with the obvious one. Leon’s a genuine munch, we all know it and crave it. Prefers it hairy ‘cause it’s more fun to play with. Saying hairy, cause who has time to shave their pussy for a man? We all don’t want to, so we’ll just say he likes it. Likes to bury his nose deep into your pussy and call it his heaven. Jerking himself off as he eats you out, thumb rolling circles into your clit. Tongue scissoring your folds open and delving into your hole. Eating you out like a starved man. Hungry Man’s wasn’t enough, and that stupid brownie wasn’t good enough. The full three-course meal that was your pussy right next to him, was all that he needs. Right against his face and drenching it with your slick. Dribbling down his stubble and giving you disgusting kisses. Sharing the love with his baby that’s it.

Lingerie with this man… Oh boy. He’ll cum on the spot seeing your body in lace with fancy flowers. Stretch marks, stomach, random bruises, self-harm scars, hairy legs, and arms, loves it all. Kisses all your scars while you wear that pretty thing. Skimpy, seductive, lazy, it doesn’t matter. Doesn’t take his hands off of you. On the contrary, he loves wearing them as well! Look, self-indulgent little shit I am, but we all want this old guy in lingerie. He’d look breathtaking in it with his genetics. Full on spread eagle, curling his finger towards you with a smirk. Gets embarrassed the first few times around. Is his dick out too much? Am I too big for this?

Creampier extraordinaire, all day, every day! It could be the breeding part, or he just likes watching you be full of a part of him. Uses his thumb to part your folds and eat out your pussy. Eating out his cum like the secretly depraved man he is. Wants to watch it like the shows he does every weekend. He’d rate it 100% on rotten tomatoes for the most unique, thrilling experience ever. (It’s a joke, be honest, that’d be boring to watch. He’d watch those boring shows, anyway.)

Another off-the-board one is sensory deprivation. It’s the trust you both have in each other. To go off touch, and he could have a gun to the back of your head. Takes a lot of coaxing out his brain to try it out. But when it’s done, oh boy, bondage with this is OFF the charts. Running his fingers up your torso and his thumb across your lip. Good girl, sucking on it like you should be. Has used wax and ice cubes before, and he would do it again. Feels slightly bad with each squeak you make. Poor baby, cumming on a vibrator up your pussy. 

Do it to him? Whiny old bastard. Feels a little lonely without hearing your footsteps or seeing your face. Being too vulnerable makes him act like a caged animal. Touching his body sends him melting on the floor. Reminds him it’s you and not someone like Ada. She was always a fickle woman who manipulated him and made him get trust issues. Knowing you’d (hopefully) not do the same makes him happier. Likes the ice cubes against his nipple or the gentle slap to his face. (Remember if you’re going to do this to talk things out. Betraying one’s trust sucks ass, and you SHOULDN’T do that. Always have a safe word, too. <3)

Overstimulation feels like something forbidden to him. To push his partner or himself past their limits. Watching you squirt from him continuously thrusting into you. Making his dick curl into that spot that sends you to heaven. Or watching the slick drip onto the floor as he fingers you in the shower. You didn’t even notice you’d be dripping. Loves it if you’re both in the mood, if not, he’ll be lazy. Cockwarming or consensual somno makes him happy, too. Wants to see you whimpering for him to stop. Gives him p

There’s also something I wanted to say about sexting with him… Dry. He’s dry. He halfway gets your texts but getting an image? Excusing himself into the bathroom to jerk one off and send you a husky voice message. Send him more? Getting that classic text of ‘Please stop, I’m at work. I’ll take care of you when I’m home…’ That’s the code for ‘I’ll give you lovin’ later, baby.’

Lazy sex… That’s so common for the pair of you. Resting on top of him with his soft cock in you. Hand rubbing your back and him talking about work. Doesn’t matter if it’s RE2R or DI, it’s the same. Lazy/Comfort sex is the best sex to him. Feels normal, and it’s better than actual sex to him. Cuddle sex as well, he’s an intimate guy at heart. Gently rocking into you while having a simple conversation. Interlacing your fingers together and squeezing at your chest. Kisses on your neck and sweet little murmurs of affection.

Tomorrow, my fic should be posted! So slow with requests so sorry about that!

[cherrirui-official]

Friendlocke Violet Gijinkas (Part 4/7)

Hell yeah we're over halfway done! Isn't that crazy? I don't have too much to say here sooooooo onto the usual stuff

I plan on posting them in order by groups of three, so there's gonna be seven parts in total, all of which I'll be linking here when done vvv

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three) (Part Five) (Part Six) (Part Seven)

!! These will contain personal headcanons I have for the cast, little fun facts, and also spoilers for Friendlocke Violet (for both the edited vids and the streams) !!

@saltydkart-reblogs

Designs under the cut!

VRISKA:

Vriska has an extra set of arms that they can retract and extract whenever they please. However, they usually keep those arms hidden.

The long needle she's holding is her trusty sword that she's used since her pirate days. She doesn't use it as much as she used too, but it's good to keep it on her for self defense in case of an emergency.

The marks on thier neck and shoulders aren't tattoos, they're birthmarks.

Good at sewing, as she often would have to fix her coat after getting into epic pirate sword fights. Sara and Vriska are sewing buddies!

It is unknown why they're unable to sleep, but while the rest of the team sleeps they often find themselves wandering around and doing whatever they want.

Artist's note: I based Vriska's design off the fact that I wanted to make her look like a bootleg version of the og Vriska. As in "Hey that's Vriska" but also "That's not VRISKA" if you get what I mean

MALL BINGO:

Trained herself to become resistant to poison (and by "trained" I mean she just ate a bunch of poison until her body became almost immune to it... please don't try this at home.)

Often goes scavenging for items when she's doesn't feel like robbing someone. If she's lucky enough she'll find some good items scattered around because "stupid trainers often leave good shit on the ground for some reason" (due to all the items you can pick up from the ground ingame lmao)

Mal lost her leg in one of her first heists, after she and another pawmi tried stealing from the wrong person at the worst possible time.

The gun she keeps with her wasn't originally hers, it belongs to someone else.

On a more positive note, Mal has plenty of stories and tall tales to share. She learned them from the eldest in her little pawmi group, as they would often tell her stories before going to sleep. Mal will often share those same stories with Peppy Jr and Mykyie Jr.

Can and will bite you. You won't be expecting it. Be warned.

GRUNPILO:

Due to his abundantly long hair, Grunpilo often lets Mal play around with it and style it however she wants.

It is unknown how or why he picked up on puppetry specifically, but it makes him happy so who are we to judge?

Speaking of which, he creates his own puppets by hand, from simple sock puppets to marionettes on strings. The two hand puppets shown are his favorite ones though.

Sometimes he'll be found speaking to them as if they're real.

Not good in social situations or confrontation, so Mal will sometimes have to speak for him. ("EXCUSE ME! He asked for no pickles!" /ref)

EXTREMELY light, very easy to pick up.

And that's all! Only three more batches left woo, hopefully I can finish them by the end of the year lol.

[spaceboibrainrot]

Hihi I just wanted to say something about your post about someone saying zadr is abusive,, while I DON'T agree with that whatsoever I think the point you made about it might not be very,, good,,,? While, yes, they are "just characters" it's important to point out toxic relationships even in media!! That way we know we aren't defending something that's bad for both the characters and (if the relationship was in real life) bad for both real people.

Another thing I forgot to mention was that a lot of proshippers use that idea to defend themselves (NOT SAYING YOU'RE A PROSHIPPER!!!) They say "they aren't real so it's okay" but that really does have an affect on the real world and how the person can view relationships.

Trust me I do love zadr with all my heart and this is NOT me saying they're toxic or abusive in the slightest. It's just me saying it's good to point out relationships that could be toxic in media so we can in real life too.

Hopefully this doesn't come off as mean, thank you

Yeah I guess "they aren't real people" isn't the best way to word it but I mean that more in the way that fictional enemies to lovers tropes aren't to be applied to real people.

Both characters are enemies who do very much beat the shit out of each other and that is obvious but they also are very dependent, seek comfort and validation from each other

Yes they do harm and insult each other constantly but they are dumb kids on opposite sides, fictional characters will have tropes like enemies to lovers and those relationships are toxic IRL but fictional stories aren't intended to be how you should be, you wouldn't kiss or grab someone without asking IRL but that's how fiction is, same with romanticizing violence, it is toxic in real life but it's designed to make you feel a certain way.

Having violent and masochistic characters is fun to write and imagine, these characters are dumb kids with no social awareness and violent tendencies, they need therapy and to be tucked into a warm bed with kisses, so make them change for the better and give each other those things that they need. Fictional characters have romanticized logic placed on them, THAT DOESN'T MEAN NON-CON OR R*PE IS OK!!!

[causenessus]

new grounds

part 0.5. HELL WEEK . . . 12.25.2023

PLAYING IN THE CAFE . . . these days by the wallows

prev. | m.list | next

extras <3

y/n's group met in akaashi and bokuto's dorm to celebrate the holidays <3

they don't have an actual fireplace so bokuto just put up stocking for everyone on the windowsill

bo had also been wanting the lego flower set for ages and yn finally bought it for him <3

yachi's cat is named tupps (secretly short for tupperware <3)

y/n and akaashi are on the verge of it they ended up locking the door of the tech booth because "if they can't get in they can't hurt us anymore"

condoms are used to keep mics dry since actors get all sweaty i didn't make this up (hopefully everything's easy to understand and not just a bunch of inside jokes)

y/n and akaashi took off these next two weeks for rehearsals so new grounds has been juggled between yachi, kageyama, and their manager

kageyama isn't used to working with someone else other than y/n on the weekends anymore and his friends have really been hyping him up to talk to her so the night he found out she had called off the next two weeks he spent the entire shift quietly sweeping the floor

taglist: @ncitygreen @lvrlamp @cherrypieyourface @mimi3lover @lees-chaotic-brain @frootloopscos @0moonii @cr4yolaas @eggyrocks @pinkiscool @httpakkeiji @localgaytrainwreck @lunaviee @kitty-m30w @lixie-phoria @aliruuiz @tartfrappe @corvid007 (form to be added to taglist! <3)

[leahnardo-da-veggie]

The Devil drives a good bargain.

"I'm a good salesman. I don't mean that I'm good at selling things. I'm ethical and I sell fairly. All the same, I have to make a profit, so I drive a good, fair bargain.

Your soul for your dreams.

I mean, you don't exactly need it after you die, right? So why not just hand it over then?" I looked hopefully at my customer. He seemed torn, uncertain. I needed to strike fast, hard. I needed to sell this now.

"Come on... You said you wanted to fall in love again, right? I can do that. I can make you and your wife feel as though you were both teenagers in the throes of passion. Or, if you want, I can get you to fall in love with someone else? And I'll throw in a clean divorce too. Or perhaps an open marriage? The possibilities are endless!" Still, the man hesitated. What was wrong with the bastard? I gritted my teeth. He had been standing there for weeks, quietly contemplating. Wasting my time.

"I've decided," he said. My hope soared. "I don't want any of that." My hope crashed into a tree and died. 

"Then, what do you want?" I asked, giving him a winning smile.

"I want to make a bet. If I win, I get a wish for free. If I lose, I'll give up my entire family's souls. Deal?" He suddenly seemed infinitely more confident. I was nonplussed. Some people tried to fake me out, trick me into giving them free wishes. 

"What's the bet?" I leaned on the countertop, bringing myself to his level. We stared each other in the eye.

"We swap places. I be the Devil, you be the everyman. First to give up loses. You in?" He smirked.

What was I to do? I could hardly resist a gamble. It was a deal.

Perhaps I was a fool, I thought, sitting at a desk. Overseeing a herd of imps was not fun. They drew markers everywhere, squelched mud, and somehow had the ability to cry on command. But as I was sitting there, rifling through unartistic crayon drawings, an idea struck me.

I did not have to stay in this job. I did not have to go home to a dumpy wife who was cheating on me and a pair of whiny teenagers. That fool lent me his body and by hell, I was going to get a good deal out of it.

I decided to think of it as a vacation. I took out all the cash from the accounts, including the kids' college funds and the retirement money. Then I borrowed an unthinkably large amount of money before disappearing off to the tropics.

I spent my days in luxury, traveling, seeing the world, gambling when I needed more cash (for the Devil always wins). I saw the world from the rose-tinted glasses of the rich, and enjoyed luxuries beyond imagination. After a while, I began to dread the end of the bet.

And then I grew old, and still the bet had not come to an end. My heart was on the verge of dying on me, and I lay bedridden with kidney failure. So I did what anyone who was not in their own body would do in that situation. 

I jumped off a 50 story building. The impact did not hurt that much. It all quickly faded to black.

I reappeared on the other side of my counter. The man whose body I occupied stood manning my shop. When he saw me, he laughed maniacally. "So you just couldn't stand the old missus, huh? Guess I beat the Devil at his own game," he said. I merely smiled, and got back on the right side of my shop. He hopped over the counter, grinning wildly.

"So… About my boon?" he asked. I steepled my fingers and sat down, leaning backwards.

"I'm afraid not. We only serve living customers. I'm afraid your body died while under my care. But thank you for the free vacation," I replied, allowing myself a satisfied smile. 

His face turned thunderous. "What do you mea-" He was whisked off to the afterlife in a flash of light before he could finish. Cheerfully, I waved at him as he went.

"Thank you for shopping with us. Have a nice day!" I called after him.

[tj-crochets]

Hi there! I'm (hopefully) moving out of my parents' house this year and would like to make room in my overflowing T-shirt drawer. Throwing them all away feels like a betrayal of these shirts I loved, so I want to make a T-shirt quilt out of them. Thing is, I've never made any kind of quilt at all, so I don't have that base of experience. Do you have any advice specifically for T-shirt quilts that would differ from regular quilting advice?

Hey! T-shirt quilts are on my list of things I'd like to make, but to be honest I have no idea how to make them. Every guide I've seen says to use interfacing to make the shirts sturdier, but I can't figure out of it's absolutely 100% necessary, or if most quilters just don't like sewing knits? I don't like using interfacing so I have not tried to make one yet Hopefully someone who reads this will have more specific advice

[lucalicatteart]

A new sculpture! Finally... I feel like I never sculpt anymore since I'm always sick or have some 500 other things going on or projects to finish, but I'm trying to schedule time to do it more often this year hopefully..! Just a generic fantasy creature as usual, but did try making the eyes a little more sparkly this time.. hrmm..

[pastafossa]

Thanks to EVERYONE'S recommendations on my post about How Do I Get A Knitting Circle To Adopt Me - A Woodcarver - Into Their Group, I have discovered:

My local library has a knitting/crochet club that welcomes other crafts, too! I will be attending that tomorrow, so maybe they'll adopt me!

There's a local woodcarving group that has monthly meetups! Granted it meets at a senior center and membership is encouraged which I can't do obviously but I'm going to see if that's like, a hard line or not

There are a couple small, independent craft stores that might have leads on more groups, I'll be trying to hit those up in the next few weeks and see if they have any leads!

My witchy shop used to have crafting meetups, I saw it on old FB events! That will be starting back up again soon, so I can hit that up too!

And here's a tentative one - there were so many others like me who expressed the same sadness of not being able to find a little crafting group where we could all work on our respective crafts and just have fun with crafty friends and learn neat things. So I'm talking to a friend about how complicated it would be to set up a discord server for us, because gd it, I know we all live far apart but if there's a way for all of us to do a craft night together once a month or whatever and become crafty friends, we should be able to do it, along with showing off our interesting things we make in between! So put a pin in this one, since I've only ever used discord, not really run one, but if I can make it work, I'm going to try when I have some time.