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wood-white-writer · 7 months

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“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” || [2/…]

- OPLA! Buggy x F!Reader

"Do-mi-ti, why not me? Why not me?"

— Mitski, "Washing Machine Heart"

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live Action) x F!Reader

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends. Years have passed since you last saw Buggy following the dispute that you thought ended your friendship. When you finally reunite with the blue-haired menace you once considered your closest friend, it’s under less than “friendly” circumstance.

Warnings: Fem!Reader, Canon Typical Violence, Slight Canon Divergence, Buggy is an asshole, The reader used to go by "Cross-Hairs" in the past, hot tension, resentment and love, flashbacks, Reader is strong AF

A/N: Buggy's behavior in this chapter kinda gives off Yandere-vibes, but he's not. He's just really desperate, and a general asshole, (and lonely).

He's dead.

Gol D. Roger, captain of the Roger pirates, your captain, is dead. Pierced through the back by the Marines like a pig for slaughter, a death unworthy for someone of his rank. He deserved to live a long life, drunk on rum, surrounded by his friends and crewmates, before being finally laid to rest in a casket and shipped off with the waves as per tradition.

As chaos ensues and all hell breaks loose, his corpse remains on the same stand where he met his end, left to roast in the warm sun. At the very least, he did not leave this world without flipping one last bird at the Marines.

His final words leave such a domino effect upon the witnesses, one that will last for years to come. Sailors, pirates, men, women, and children all head toward the vast oceans in a hurry, ships pushing off the docks at record speed as they prepare to hunt for his legacy. To claim his title for their own. A title he earned and subsequently put up for auction.

The Marines were hoping that his death would mean the end of Piracy, but as though fate itself had something else to say about it, it had the exact opposite effect.

You're not moving with the swarm of people. The race goes on, but you do not.

You're still standing in the same spot as you were when you watched the officers drive their spears through your captain's back, having ceased to function as you saw the man who practically raised you, succumb to the same fate that claims all in the end.

Even as people are pushing their way past you, shoving you in God-knows how many directions on their way to the oceans, you can't find it in you to move on your own accord.

The world has gone deafly quiet now, everyone else is gone, and you're its sole occupant now. Despite the unrest going around, and the wind that brushes against your neck, Roger's last words echo in your ears like the whispers of a ghost.

"Wealth. Fame. Power. I found everything this world has to offer. Free yourselves! Take to the seas! My treasure is yours to find!"

Someone - whether accidentally or not - thrusts against your stomach, and you take a tumble to the ground. The world finally perforates your consciousness, yet it leaves you exposed to its chaos. You attempt to stand up, but the ongoing movements from all around halt your efforts.

You raise your arms to shield your face from further damage, suffering several pairs of feet and a handful of scratches from the crowd. Nothing too bad, but you don't dare to try and get up just yet. Your initial plan is to just stay put until the storm is over.

That is, until you hear a voice calling your name from somewhere in the crowd, muffled by the ruckus, but still audible for you to make out among the many others.

"COME ON! HURRY!"

You're hastily pulled up to your feet and collide face-first into a chest. Looking up, you only manage to register Buggy's hand tightly clenched around yours in a near-painful hold as he pushes you both through the ongoing crowd.

While trying to navigate through the masses, you raise your head to gaze at his face.

Not unlike your own, his eyes are stained with tears.

------

Nothing is in its correct shape when you blink your eyes open. For starters, the room is spinning at an incredible speed, and for seconds, there is twice of everything. Two coats are hanging on the rack just on the edge of your vision, the same color and length and everything. You discover you have two pairs of hands and feet as you sit up, and at least over a dozen iron bars are separating you from the rest of the room.

In a minute or two, your sight establishes yourself. The world has become one again, but to your chagrin, you discover that the number of bars caging you remains the same.

Shaking off the dizziness and nausea that accompanies your waking, you get up to your knees and discover that, once again, you're fucking trapped. This time, it's in a metal cage hanging off the floor by a hook and chain, swinging you lightly back and forth with each fraction of movement you commit yourself to.

Exhausted from simply waking up, you clash your forehead against the bars. "Shit."

"Well, good to know that your colorful vocabulary remains the same."

You snap your eyes up to see Buggy striding into the room, and your gaze immediately narrows.

"And your eyes." His right hand dislodges itself from his wrist and hovers over to you with an outstretched finger, where it lands right in the space between your eyes. "Sharp as ever, if not even sharper. Careful, you could kill someone with those."

"Wishful thinking," you murmur indignantly and raise your hand to wave off the offending appendage. Like a fly will with sugar, it merely withdraws for a few inches before returning to the same spot.

You elect to ignore it as best as you can.

He feigns a horrified gasp at your words and clutches his chest with his remaining hand. "Such harsh words! I thought we were friends, you and I. I mean, what kind of friend would threaten the other with their life so cruelly?"

Friends? That's rich coming from him. You haven't considered him as such since the day he left. You won't even dignify that with a response, and so you merely turn your head to the side and rest your cheek against the bars.

His voice lowers a few octaves, enough for you to differentiate between the real him and the act he puts on for a performance. "Then again, what kind of 'friend' leaves the other behind?" His footsteps come closer, each one weighing heavier than the last. "What kind of 'friend' abandons the other?"

Your eye twitches, but you still refuse to look at him, much less speak to him.

"What?" the Showman farce has by now ended and been buried as he takes one last step forward. "Nothing to say? I'd thought that after twenty years, you'd be happy to see this handsome face."

As much as you want to admit that, yes, the years have done wonders on his face and he most definitely would've been categorized as 'handsome' in your dictionary, you don't.

"What do you want me to say?" You tilt your head marginally to the side so that merely one eye is aimed at him. "That it's good to see you? That I've missed you?" Even though both of those statements are true to some extent, he doesn’t need to know that.

"Well, I could go for all of the above if you insist on being cordial, but for starters, an apology might suffice enough on its own." If you weren't already looking at him, you'd think that he’s joking. He isn't. He’s as serious as a heart attack, and he’s not smiling this time. All you can think at the moment is that it's strange not to see a clown smile.

"An apology?" You withdraw the impulse to scoff. "What, exactly, do I have to apologize for?"

He doesn’t answer right away. In fact, he doesn’t do or say anything at all. You can't even hear him breathing, and it’s twice as eerie as his general demeanor. It's a foreboding omen that signifies he's on the edge of his temper like a bomb sizzling just before it goes off.

"What do you have to apologize for?" he echoes.

That's all the warnings you get before the cage rattles with enough force to knock you back against the other side of the cage. Buggy's hand curls around the iron bars with such vehemence that it almost looks like he's about to break them right off the hinges.

He leans forward until his nose barely brushes against the cold steel placed between you, his bright-blue eyes near-bloodshot with the way they glower. Even now, with the few feet between you, you find yourself almost drowning in those blue irises of his.

"You left me. You betrayed me!" he shouts loud enough for his voice to reverberate throughout the room, all thoughts of maintaining his composure thrown out the window the moment you inadvertently admitted your own cluelessness. "Just like all the others! Shanks, now I could've predicted that, but you?"

His hand dislodges yet again to point an accusatory finger at you, but it maintains a safe distance this time. Probably afraid of what you'll try to do with it if you get your hands on it.

You have to give yourself some credit. You've not lost your temper once since you ended up here. In your adolescence, you would've torn him a new one fo the trouble, but you can't be bothered this time around. You’d have thought two decades of separation would’ve led to some pent-up fury like it has done to him, but all you feel is … well, nothing.

Nothing yet, anyhow.

"What you did to me, now that was cruel. That was something I did not expect, but you did it, and for what?" The cage continues to shake as his fingers dig into the rods. This time, you observe, he’s keeping his head slightly tilted downwards, rendering you unable to detect his eyes. "For Red-Haired fucking SHANKS!"

With all the movement going on in your limited space, you’re jolted forth again like a ball and cling to the front bars with your hand positioned right above his. Even with the gloves and the short distance keeping you separated, you can feel the scorching heat emitting from him.

How long has it been since you were last this close to him? It was underneath the stars, you unexpectedly recall. You were clinging to him, crying your heart out as the death of your captain had finally been processed. He was holding you close, whispering something you could not make out at the time.

It was during a time when it was just you, him, and Shanks. The three of you, against the rest of the world, ready to live up to Gol's legacy and become the Pirates of the New Age. With Shanks’ leadership, your strength, and Buggy’s general unpredictability, nothing could stop you.

But now you're here, a captive. No longer a friend, no longer a...

It never went that far, anyhow. No use bringing it up now when it’s hardly relevant.

When Buggy’s raspy breaths slow down and his hold on the iron rods lessens, you decide to finally speak.

"You're the one who left, Buggy," you say, your words laced with such apparent apathy that no one would’ve guessed what you’re feeling. In reality, you want to scream until his ears literally pop.

Your chest constricts just to say it out loud, but you won't even stop and address the tremble that threatens to claim your voice the more you go into it. "I went with Shanks, because who else was I supposed to go with? The Roger Pirates were spread to the fucking corners of the earth, Gol D. Roger was dead, and you left. I had no one except for him. You closed that door, not me."

Silence reigns loudly upon you as you're left there, nearly breathless after your little rant despite having kept your voice even throughout it. You feel pathetic, childlike, small. People say that admitting something is the first step towards overcoming it, but you feel neither achieved or relieved of any burdens.

You just feel ... small. As small as you were the day he disappeared from your life.

Buggy doesn't say anything, his countenance empty of any tell-tale signs regarding what he might be feeling. It's almost ironic. The man who used to wear his emotions on his sleeves, the same expressive man who used to spend hours bragging about his capacities and capabilities on the Oro Jackson, has now been rendered mute like a mime instead of a jester.

His eyes find yours again after an unknown amount of time, only now, it's not just bitterness and resentment you have to salvage from them. For a second, just a brief flash of the moment, there's something else. Something vulnerable.

It goes as quickly as it came.

He shoves himself from the cage, his indecipherable gaze – now laced with both anger and regret – lingering on you before he starts pacing around the room, having calmed down from his outburst but being no less agitated by the turn of events.

"What are you talking about?" he demands, sounding a tad more curious now than accusatory. "You were already going to leave with Shanks before I booked it, I just beat you to it."

This time, it's your turn to point an accusatory finger toward him, lowering your voice just enough for him to hear you recount the most painful memory you have, save for Gol D.'s death. The memory you had spent almost two decades trying to bury deep down inside you.

"The last thing you told me was that you wished that you'd never even met me, and then you fucking left me behind to go do who the fuck knows what. Which, apparently,— " You gesture to your surroundings with a dismissive wave of your hand. "— Includes enslaving people and keeping them in cages."

"Hey, people are allowed to have side-gigs!" he retorts, almost boyishly as if you didn't just have a serious argument moments ago. "Don't judge me! You used to steal shit when we were kids, but you didn't hear me bitching about it!"

You roll your eyes. Some things don't change, that being the childish bickering, not the enslaving and caging bit. Your lip inclines upwards for just a second, and it declines just as quickly. You lean back against the other wall of your cage and heave a breath, tired of it all

"Speaking of kids," he rests his arms atop a crate to his left. "What's up with you and Rubber-Boy over there? Luffy, was it?"

Your lip drops to a scowl. Looks like the kid's Devil Fruit powers have come to light, one fruit eater to another. "What about him?"

Buggy smirks and pulls out a knife from inside his coat. He turns it playfully in his hand, balancing the sharp edge at the tip of his finger as though in deep thought. "He yours or something? 'Cause, I gotta admit, I never took you as the white-picket-fence type."

He’s joking, right?

Right?

"He's not mine.”

The look that befalls his face almost seems like … relief? He’s quick to mask it though with a half-assed smirk.

"No?" He tips his head to each side and lets the knife lie on the crate. "You sure as hell seem protective over him, and I know for a fact that not just anyone earns the favor of the legendary Cross-Hairs.” He puts a hand under his chin, feigning a motion of deep thinking. “What'd he do? Save your life? You found him in the trash? Or did you shag up with his daddy or something?"

You raise an eyebrow. "I made a promise."

At the mention of this, he promptly ceases with his ridiculous guesses and his words turn sharp. "To whom?"

"None of your fucking business." You're pretty sure that if he learns that you made that promise to none other than Shanks, he'd unleash a different kind of hell not even the death of Roger could hope to spark.

Rather than pushing the matter, he shrugs with an air of indifference. "I just find it funny, that's all." He chuckles, but his tone lacks any visible sense of comicalness. "You, one of the most notorious pirates to ever cross the East-Blue, disappeared for a decade to do what, exactly? Look after a simple-minded brat who talks shit about becoming King of the Pirates."

He snaps his attention back to you and moves closer to the cage again, crouching on his knees to gaze up at you instead. "Sorry not sorry to burst that little bubble, but that title will belong to me. Once I get the map your stretchy little runt has hidden, I will find the One Piece. I will become King. I will be known, and I will be loved."

("You were loved,") a part of you wants to tell him. The part that still lingers in your shared past. ("You were always loved.")

But you keep your mouth shut.

He perceives your silence as a sign to continue. "You know, despite everything that happened, I'm opening my heart to forgiveness, for old times’ sake."

"Forgiveness?"

He smiles, but this one, you discover, is genuine. At least, in comparison to all the other ones he's flashed you beforehand. It's a lukewarm feeling, but familiar. You're almost tempted to reach through the bars and feel his cheeks, trace the edges of his lips, and smudge away the red make-up just to know if it is real or just a figment of your imagination.

"If you convince Rubber-Boy to hand over that map of the Grand Line, I might consider opening a special spot in my crew, just for you. I know better than anyone what you're capable of. Hell, it'll be just like old times, like nothing ever changed. You and me, against the rest of the world."

Slowly, he reaches his hand up and towards you through the bars, palm open for you to take.

"Don't you miss it?" he whispers, wistfully. "I do. Save for the One Piece, it's been the one thing I've wanted more than anything else."

You blink, and a feeling settles over your chest. Not uncomfortable per se, but not kind either. Like being enveloped by a warm yet tight blanket, staving you off the cold but suffocating you all the same.

Your dream. You remember your dream. The one you thought gone forever, now seemingly resurfacing from the depths in your heart where it initially drowned. To travel and explore the seas, the three of you by each other’s sides until the very end. That’s all you’ve ever wanted.

Now, Buggy is opening up the possibility of that dream coming back to life again.

You're tempted to take his hand, feel the warmth that once held you so openly when you were younger.

You raise your hand to him ever so slightly.

"Fuck, Rubber Boy can come too for all I care.” He proceeds to add. “He's a special case, and there's nothing I appreciate more than special ones."

Your hand stops and promptly withdraws.

Buggy raises his eyebrows in shock, his fingers curling as they were about to grasp at yours only to find empty air. "What? What is it? What's wrong?"

Luffy.

You shake your head. "He won't give up. He won't give up on his dream."

"What, Rubber-Boy?" he scowls like the name itself tastes like bitter venom on his tongue. "He's just a stupid kid, he'll grow out of it. Once he sees that there's no way he would last in the Grand Line on his own, he'll get in line."

You take a deep breath, preparing for the confrontation that's about to come with your next words. "He won't, and no power or authority on this earth is ever going to be able to change that."

A flash of hurt crosses his facial features, only for a second, yet it feels like longer. Then, it stops, and all that's left is the same bitterness he showed that very day.

Snarling, Buggy pulls his hand back and gets back up on his feet. “I should’ve expected this. You never choose me!" he flares and pulls both his hands to his chest, gesturing to himself. "It's always someone els- Always someone fucking else. First Shanks, then this damn brat! Why?" He briefly pauses, as if weighing his next words. "What did they ever do that was so special that you decided to stick around for them that I didn't do?"

You’ve just about had enough of his self-pitying attitude.

"I never 'chose' Shanks!" you hiss back at him. "It was never a choice. Why was I supposed to 'choose' anyone for that matter? What made you reach the conclusion that there had to be a choice at all?!"

He parts his jaws to answer with what you can only expect to be yet another sneer when the curtains behind him parts, and a member of the troupe enters. A dark-skinned man with a Mohawk of sorts, with filed teeth resembling a shark more than a man.

"Boss, the kid ain't saying nothin' about the map." The man ("Sharptooth", you decide to call him for now) says with a deep twinge of aggravation. "We're already at nearly thirty-damn-feet, and all the little shit does is fuckin' laugh at us."

Buggy does not even turn to address the man, his attention solely at you, but you can tell he's irritated by this interruption.

"Sharptooth" turns to you, having just realized you’re here. A sinister grin spreads along his cheeks, and he licks his upper teeth lecherously. "What do we do 'bout her? Is she up on the menu yet? I'm starvin'."

You crouch down, one hand positioned between your knees like a predator ready to lunge at the slightest movement. Truth be told, despite your reputation, killing someone has never been one of life's greatest joys for you, and it's been a while since you last committed a murder. However, the years have done little to weaken you, and you're not afraid to get your hands dirty if the situation demands it.

You'll be sure to let him know first-hand that if he dares to try anything.

"No," Buggy replies, voice void of any tangible emotions. "She'll snap your neck like a twig before you can get within a foot of her." He turns to face the disappointed performer, and before the latter knows it, a severed hand clamps around his throat and dangles him above the ground with what you can only expect to be a bruising grip. "I am, on the other hand, not limited by such proximity."

The man's face begins to pale as the blood flow to his brain is cut short, but the grip does not lessen at all.

Buggy speaks like he’s having a normal conversation. "She stays here, and no one, and I mean no one, is going to touch her. Understood?" His soft say leaves no room for opposition.

You watch as "Sharptooth" struggles to form a coherent sentence as he desperately clings to the hand keeping him afloat. "Y-Yes si— Yes, Captain. W-We won't!"

With a bored swish, the hand shoves the performer back a good two feet, where he crashes to the ground and clutches his neck in search of air.

"Splendid!" Buggy attaches his wrist back and claps his hands together, his Show Man act replenished. "Now, be sure to tell the others of that little fact, and while you're at it,—" he draws his palms away from one another in a straight motion. "Add another five feet."

The crew member wastes no time shuffling from the ground and all but books it out of there.

Buggy heaves a deep and dramatic sigh, exaggeratedly slumping his shoulders, and swings back to you again.

"Supporting casts, am I right?"

You don't bother with a reply.

He takes this with a lackadaisical shrug. "Now, as much as I'd like to continue this intriguing, little tête-à-tête, I'm afraid I'm needed elsewhere. The show must go on, but I’ll come back before you know it."

It doesn't matter when he'll be back. You don't plan on waiting for him. You've already waited twenty long years, and as your temper simmers evenly under your skin, you intend to get one thing across.

"Just remember this, Buggy,"

You lean against the bars, pressed so tightly that it feels like your body is about to push through the narrow gaps. "If you do anything to the kid, anything at all, and you can consider our past six feet under. I'll come after you, and when I'm finished,—"

Fist clenched; you deliver a solid strike to the bar that rattles throughout the room to the point where it feels like even the ground is quacking from the force. Buggy jumps a few steps back in retreat, and when he looks up again, his breath halts.

Where there was once a straight bar keeping you contained, there's now a prominent curve pointing out towards him. Not nearly large enough for you to squeeze through, but it's there, nonetheless.

When you lower your fist, knuckles red but intact, you finish your warning. "— Not even your Devil-Fruit powers will manage to keep you intact."

His eyes flicker between you and the now-deformed iron bar. Unexpectedly, he only stares, neither returning a threat nor even a joke to ease the tension. He doesn’t say anything at all, and the absence of words leaves nothing up to interpretation.

Buggy knows better than anyone that you don't make half-assed threats. Never you. Once you’ve set your eyes on a target, you don’t rest. He recalls the look of pure bloodlust in your eyes from back when you were young. It was neither cruel nor sadistic, but it felt cold to witness. Ice incarnate.

A predator just following its prime instincts.

Whenever someone posed a problem to either you or your crew mates, you would counter it with a threat. It didn't matter how bold-faced it sounded, you always made sure to see it through.

As a teenager, he begrudgingly thought that it was hot as hell. You were. Watching the way your eyes would almost glower as you made good on your promises, it did things to him.

Now, even when he's on the receiving end of it, it still does.

He can't deny that the feeling hasn't diminished. For what it’s worth, it means that you’ll keep your focus on him. He’ll have your eyes, all for his own now. Those very eyes, always so sleek and ready to cut and by God, he realizes at that moment just how fucking much he’s missed them.

How much he’s missed you.

“Well,” he says as he makes his way to the exit. “I guess I’ll see you in the front row.”

#buggy the clown fanfiction #buggy the clown live action #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy the clown #one piece x reader #one piece live action #buggy one piece #buggy x you #buggy x female reader #buggy #buggy live action #captain buggy #one piece buggy #one piece netflix #one piece fanfiction

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call-sign-shark · 1 year

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Heaven In Your Eyes || Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC (Heaven Lavey Shelby)

Additional content/Info: CLICK HERE

Fic Summary: He meets her at church one dreary night, guided by her singing. Her name? Heaven Lavey. White ivory hair, fair porcelain skin, and petite shape, this almost ethereal creature is Arthur's strict opposite. Yet, all it took was one dive into her heavenly eyes for him to be convinced God has sent His sweetest angel to save his bastard soul. The two lovebirds, obsessed with each other, are determined to live their love no matter people's judgments and no matter the dangers of a Peaky Blinder's life. They are together through the best and through the worst.

But behind her holy appearance and sweet facade, Heaven Lavey is dangerous. With rumors of witchcraft and murder, her shady past weighs on her shoulders. And if she is a blessing for Arthur Shelby, she will soon prove to be a curse for those who dare to stand in her and her husband's way. Even Thomas Shelby himself.

She is Arthur’s Angel, but don't get fooled by her doe eyes: for the rest of us, she is the White Devil.

And by extend, you are too.

Why? Because Heaven Lavey… It’s you.

TW: Major character death, explicit sexual content, canonical violence, graphic description of violence, blasphemy, witch trials and burning of innocent women, dependent relationship (if Arthur and Heaven are happy in their relationship, they are obsessed and possessive, which leads to bursts of violence and deifying from Arthur. By no means I am claiming their relationship is healthy, but it is what works for them)

ACT I.

♢ Ch. 1 || Heaven in Your Eyes

♢ Ch. 2 || Never Did, Never Dared

♢ Ch. 3 || Something Wicked This Way Comes 🔞

♢ Ch. 4 || Dead Bird at Witchin Hour

♢ Ch. 5 || The Hell in His Eyes

♢ Ch. 6 || The One They Should Have Burned

♢ Ch. 7 || Of Matches and Gasoline 🔞

♢ Ch. 8 || Tango on Broken Dreams

ACT II.

♢ Ch. 9 || For Whom the Bells Toll

♢ Ch. 10 || Closer to Heaven or Closer to Hell? 🔞

♢ Ch. 11 || When The Bridges Burn

♢ Ch. 12 || As They Always Did

♢ Ch. 13 || Cross My Heart and Hope to Die

♢ Ch. 14 || Pure As a Lamb 🔞

♢ Ch. 15 || Women Like Me in a Men's World

♢ Ch. 16 || Après Moi le Déluge ( c o m i n g . . .)

♢ Ch. 17 || ( Il Diàvulu Biancu)

♢ Ch. 18 ||

ACT III.

♢ Ch. 18 ||

♢ Ch. 19 ||

♢ Ch. 20 ||

♢ Ch. 21 ||

♢ Ch. 22 ||

♢ Ch. 23 ||

♢ Ch. 24 ||

♢ Ch. 25 ||

♢ The series can be longer.

Some events from the show are taken and obviously reworked. Yet, except for a few quotes and scenes, everything else is imagined by the author.

Related works - in chronological order-

♢ From Blood We Will Grow

♢ To Bark and Bite

♢ Kaiser Meeting Cyril (requested)

♢ A Bone to Pick With It (requested)

♢ Perfect Lines

♢ Savage Daughter

♢ A Slice of Us (Modern!HYE)

♢ Love Ritual (@zablife's celebration)

♢ The Woods Whisper 1, 2 (Halloween Horror)

♢Little Lamb 1, 2, 3 (Yandere!AU)

Moodboards and other content

♢ Playlist

♢ Moodboard Aesthetic

♢ Moodboard Chapter 6

♢Heaven In your Eyes Act II trailer

♢ Moodboard Chapter 12

♢ Heaven in your Eyes chapter 16 trailer

Looking for more? Check out Heaven's masterlist I and II.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia000 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastick @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19 @raincoffeeandfandoms @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @dearshelby @alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @emotionalcadaver @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @he6rtshaker @bemyqueenofdarkness @cljordan-imperium @cjarbo @red-riding-wood @rysko

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yanderes-galore · 12 days

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Hi if you do poly can I please request yandere Alastor and Charlie both fallen for the hotel new resident please , hcs if possible if not a Drabble would be fun to read 💗

I was sharing thoughts with @okchijt late at night since Hazbin is such a brainrot for me rn. So some of what I talk about, such as the dynamic between Darling and Alastor/Charlie, is from what I discussed with them.

I took my own creative liberties with this request... sorry if this isn't quite what you wanted :( LOVE THIS SHOW!

Yandere! Alastor + Charlie sharing a Darling

Pairing: Romantic/Platonic - Sharing (Alastor would be ambiguous due to Canon)

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Possessive/Protective behavior, Sadism, Degrading behavior/Ownership, Yanderes sharing, Stalking, Clingy behavior, Imprisonment, Forced companionship/relationship.

So, the idea I came up with is this;

You're the new resident hoping to be redeemed, yes, but you have a past.

Somehow in someway... you have a deal with Alastor.

You were silently hoping that coming to the Hotel and being redeemed would free you.

Yet you end up coming face to face with Alastor the moment you enter.

Now, Charlie can be either intention with you.

Alastor... the way I intend to write Alastor is something dubious.

His intentions can't be read as exclusively platonic or romantic.

He has his own intentions... ones no one but himself can read.

(I will usually write him like this due to him being Asexual in canon... although according to research, even that has a range/spectrum)

As the new resident and a sinner, Charlie naturally wants to redeem you.

Although, she may not learn until later that Alastor has you on a leash like Husk.

If you aren't a soul claimed by Alastor before you enter the Hotel, you will be at some point.

Alastor has an idea of what your plan is... he doesn't like the idea of letting you out of his grasp.

In response, you're allowed to live and work at the Hotel... "for redemption".

Charlie is clueless at first of the tension between you and Alastor.

Although Husk would understand your issue... even if he isn't big on the whole redemption thing.

Just another pet meant to do tricks.

The two are complete opposites, even when they eventually start sharing.

Charlie is too nice for her own good and nearly smothers her obsession at times.

Alastor is, like I've said, mysterious.

You don't know what he wants exactly... but he owns you and your soul.

When Alastor sees Charlie's obsession towards you, he'd share to keep her happy.

In reality you are definitely still his... regardless on if Charlie wants to help you be "better".

Alastor is a reminder of who you once were... the result of a bet gone wrong... you can't scrub the past away that easily.

You're only in here because Alastor's allowing you, anyways.

Eventually Charlie will know of the dynamic between you and Alastor.

Especially if she sees him pull your chain.

The fact that one way or another you got under Alastor's grasp upsets Charlie at first.

But Alastor convinces her of the benefits.

Alastor knows Charlie couldn't dare see you go if you were redeemed.

Charlie goes to deny such a thought... but Alastor cuts her off.

He's seen how Charlie acts around you.

She follows you around like a puppy at times, always asking for your approval and clinging around you.

She loves you... be that as friends or something more twisted.

However... she won't have to worry about that if you just stay here.

That way, Alastor gets to keep your soul under his control... and Charlie gets to keep seeing you.

It's not like Heaven will let her visit.

Charlie may actually be won over by this... resulting in them "sharing" with each other.

It's yet another deal, you now being with "two" masters.

You feel betrayed that Charlie would choose not to redeem you just to keep you to herself.

Alastor merely stares you down with a smug aura, you can feel the chain around your neck even if he didn't manifest it.

No need for kidnapping in this situation, Alastor already has you in his control.

He can keep you in the Hotel with Charlie, even better since his role is playing protector of the place.

Yeah, no other Overlord is coming near you.

Charlie doesn't even like the idea of Alastor "owning" you... but it's better than someone else... hopefully.

At least with Alastor you're in the Hotel.

Your only "solace" is speaking with people like Husk or Angel Dust... at least they understand such a plight somewhat.

Charlie tries to regain your trust the best she can.

She feels horrible for Alastor essentially exposing her true desires.

She clings to you, crying and whimpering about you hating her.

You're sort of forced to comfort her as Vaggie glares at you if you don't.

A silent warning to play nice with the Princess.

Alastor finds all this amusing.

To think you had a chance at leaving?

Face it, outside of the Hotel isn't safe without him and Charlie.

Going to Heaven? Out of the question!

Alastor has eyes on you all the time... even if he didn't, Charlie certainly follows you around even if you don't know it.

You're bound to him.

Alastor's merely playing nice by allowing Charlie to have you.

It's all deals in Hell!

Unfortunately... deals define your life... as you learn the hard way once Heaven is torn from your grasp.

"What's wrong, darling? Upset your little plan didn't work the way you wanted it to?"

"Please! Please, I'm sorry! I just... love you too much to let you go to Heaven... you'll be happy and safe here... with me and Alastor! Okay? Don't look at me like that!"

#yandere hazbin hotel #yandere alastor #yandere charlie #yandere charlie morningstar

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another-lost-mc · 11 months

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Imagine Vampire!Barbatos tho....

Who else would be his perfect doll master but you? He will cook for you, brush and stylish your lovely hair, dress you up. Treat you like a princess 80% of the time, the other 20% he's feeding from you and letting his dark side take over.

Vampire!BARBATOS x gn!Reader, 1.2k words, nsfw.

Content warnings: canon-typical vampire behaviour, possessiveness/jealousy, pet names, spicy towards the end—it's not really dubcon but it might come off that way.

more from the vampire!au

You feel his eyes on you as soon as you step into the ballroom of Diavolo’s castle. These fancy events always make you feel nervous and out of place. You usually spend the night together before these events so he can help you prepare, but last night you stayed at the House of Lamentation instead as his duties to Diavolo kept him busy.

His bedroom (and yours) are filled with the exquisite clothing he’s bought you, and he sent you instructions earlier with which clothing he wanted you to wear for him tonight. You bathed with the products he gave you too—he claims that the custom recipe he has made for you enhances your natural scent.

(He enjoys bathing you personally so he can massage you with his firm hands while he teases you with gentle touches, a playful reminder of how he'll reward you later if you behave.)

Every accessory you own—the collection of chokers, necklaces, bracelets, and chains he's bought for you—are made with the finest metals and jewels. Your outfits usually compliment your complexion and your eyes; your accessories are a reflection of him instead. The choker around your neck tonight is black and silver and adorned with tiny gemstones the same colour as the tips of his hair.

As you walk around the perimeter of the ballroom, you feel his warm, affectionate gaze linger on you from wherever he's hiding just out of sight. He weaves through the crowd seamlessly at these events, as the demon prince's silent shadow should, but you’ve yet to catch a glimpse of him.

One of the brothers tugs on your wrist and leads you towards the center of the room. Diavolo approaches you suddenly, and Barbatos follows silently behind him.

“You look radiant this evening,” Diavolo says, his voice laced with fondness for you. He respects his friend and your relationship and doesn’t dare touch you. “Don't you agree, Barbatos?”

You’re not sure anyone else notices the flicker of annoyance that hardens your lover’s expression before it's gone. Even you're not sure if you truly saw it when he nods and smiles at you.

“Quite lovely indeed,” he murmurs, but something about his sickeningly sweet tone sets you on edge. The tingling sensation of being watched follows you as you're dragged by your friends onto the dancefloor.

It's barely twenty minutes later that you finally break away from the party and mingle on the outskirts of the room with a cool drink in your hand. There's a sudden feeling of another body radiating heat against your back, and gloved fingers reach around you and gently pull your drink away. He sets it on a table nearby and touches your waist.

"Would you mind accompanying me to the kitchen? I have a small task to complete and would like the privilege of your company.” He’s always so formal to keep up appearances, but you suspect there’s some hidden meaning in his words you haven’t deciphered yet.

(There always is).

He offers you his arm and you leave the party together. His shoulders are stiff with tension as he leads you away from the ballroom, but despite his odd demeanor you're still grateful to spend time alone with him.

The rest of the castle is empty except for the servants carrying out various chores. When you arrive at the kitchen doors, he gestures for you to enter first. There’s a flurry of activity inside as the Little Ds pick up their trays of Demonus and make a quick escape through the servant’s entrance on the opposite side of the room.

You smile and wave at them as they leave, but the door shuts behind you and the lock clicking into place makes you freeze.

“You look exceptional this evening,” Barbatos breathes next to your ear. His gloved fingers caress your cheek and slowly run up and down the curve of your neck. “It's enough to drive me mad,” he confesses, lips brushing your skin just above the choker. He unfastens the clasp and slides the delicate item into his pocket for later.

He kisses the lingering puncture marks he made two nights ago—the skin is bruised and the puncture wounds are still not fully healed. He prefers that you don't use magic or potions to speed up the healing process, so you don't.

(He'd never deny you if you were in true pain or discomfort, but he would prefer to care for you himself than ask you to drink whatever flimsy potion one of your friends might try to feed you.)

“I get the sense that something’s bothering you,” you admit quietly, and he hums. "Do you want to talk about it?" you ask nervously, but when you try to look at him, he holds your chin to keep you still.

"A simple problem requires a simple solution," he mutters to himself. "All I could smell was them on you,” he clarifies for your benefit, and it’s the only warning you have before you’re pushed forward against one of the stainless steel counters. Deft fingers tug at your waist and unbutton the burdensome clothing that gets in his way of touching you. You gasp when cool air hits your bare skin.

No matter what bath products he buys you, it’s not enough to completely wash away the scent of the others you live with. The clothes that hang in your closet don’t smell like him, not like the ones in his castle bedroom do.

The possessive beast inside him seethes with rage others that see you and crave you like he does might think you’re not claimed. You taunted the beast inside him when you walked into that ballroom smelling like so many others but not him.

Even if you weren't wearing the choker around your neck, those healing bites alone aren’t enough to deter those that might try to take you for themselves. You’re his, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make sure everyone knows that—including you.

“What—what about the party?” you whimpered, overwhelmed by his body smothering yours and the pleasure of his hand exploring between your legs.

He's barely started and you can already smell the musky scent from between your thighs. The evidence he'll leave inside you when he's finished will drip down your legs and paint your skin; you have no doubt the stains will soak through the thin fabric of your pants for the others to see.

His fangs tease the sensitive skin of your neck, lingering higher than his other marks, too high for your choker to hide from view. Slick fingers tease at your entrance and you gasp as one slips inside.

“Everyone will know—“ you stammer, one final plea to remind him that perhaps this isn't a good idea, but his quiet, condescending chuckle interrupts you.

“Precisely, my dear,” he purrs, biting into your neck and groaning as the first pulse of blood coats his tongue. A hand encased in soft leather covers your mouth and muffles your cry as he buries himself inside you with a sharp snap of his hips.

Obey Me! Masterlist

#obey me vampire au #obey me barbatos #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me barbatos x reader #barbatos x reader #obey me smut #omswd smut #barbatos smut #obey me barbatos x mc #barbatos x mc #obey me barbatos x you #barbatos x you #obey me fanfic #x reader #gn!reader

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count-lucio · 6 months

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lucio headcanons because i can't help myself. just a warning that these are rather canon divergent, so keep that in mind while reading! anyway, with no further ado-

my objectively correct lucio 'headcanons' (i am normal)

- he has chronic nerve pain from the constant pain + stress his body was under while he had the plague - even after he comes back. he walks with a cane most days, and claims it's for 'fashion' (it very clearly isn't)

- the whole "missing an entire arm" business is a MUCH bigger deal than the way the game shows it- it's a genuine disability, not just a fun character trait. i'm begging you all to consider lucio needing (and wanting) to spend time with his prosthetic off. lucio phantom limb syndrome and phantom pains. lucio struggling to do things that require both hands on occasion and having to relearn everything after getting his prosthetic. lucio being too rough/too strong/etc with his left arm because he can't feel what he's doing. as much as he loves the gold he can't help but feel terribly insecure and incapable because of it sometimes.

- lucio is not even a tenth as stupid as the writers make him out to be for funny haha villain points. he's actually incredibly intelligent and a big fan of studying + reading "just because." he's very literate and articulate, just overexcitable (and maybe slightly over-emotional) and doesn't always express his intelligence in the best way (or stop and think before doing things). he's also fairly talented, and rather proficient in writing and playing piano - the grand piano in the foyer belongs to both him and nadia!!

- same thing goes for what an incompetent leader he's portrayed to be in the game... it's absolutely nonsensical that he alone was in charge of vesuvia for multiple years and that entire time knew nothing and learned nothing about being an effective ruler. perhaps he's not the most responsible leader at all moments and maaaybe he can be a bit. harsh. but i can't see military-tactical, hand-selected-to-rule-vesuvia-lucio being an INCOMPETENT leader.

- also, the previous count, count spada, took lucio in and taught him everything he knew - the game hardly touches on this and it's an absolute crime because i think the two of them had such a close (dare i say father-son) relationship and spada effectively took lucio under his wing and gave him the necessary training to be an effective leader before naming him his heir. the two of them were very... my parents hate me and i don't know what parental love feels like x i never married or had children and i regret it immensely, yknow ?

- his relationship with morga is much more strained than what's portrayed in canon - both her and his father were rather abusive throughout his childhood and he hides in the palace every time she visits vesuvia and makes nadia deal with her for him (i use 'makes' loosely - nadia would do it even if lucio didn't ask. she's not very fond of morga either and is sympathetic to lucio's fear of her).

- speaking of nadia, the two of them really don't hate eachother all that much. their relationship is much more complicated than what's shown in the game (everyone's is, really, it's all a lot more blurry and queerplatonic than what was written to make it work as a romance game) and while they most definitely butt heads quite often, she by no means hates him and they do, actually, get along a fair amount of the time. they have quite a bit in common and work well together. most of the time.

- contrary to popular belief, mercedes and melchior are not unruly and untrained- they're both trained impeccably, just in lucio's native language, making him the only person capable of controlling them. however when it is him in charge, the three of them are a force to be reckoned with (especially when out hunting) and mercedes and melchior move flawlessly alongside him, nearly predicting what he wants without him even having to speak it aloud. they're impeccably behaved- just for him and him alone.

- on the topic of languages- lucio was raised speaking something different than what is spoken throughout the game. there is no direct real-world equivalent but it's... scandinavian in nature. he has the faintest hint of an accent (and no, it isn't a jersey accent) but he's been speaking other languages for so long it's not quite as noticeable as it was during his mercenary days - although it is quite a bit more noticeable when he's drunk, and he's very prone to cursing in his native language.

#the arcana #the arcana game #count lucio #the arcana lucio #these are all objectively correct because i said so #nobody understands lucio the way i do.

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puppetmaster13u · 2 days

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For any of your cryptid batfam AUs. We know Batman thinks criminals are superstitious and cowardly. So how superstitious should most Gothamites be? What are some of the superstitions and things they do because of that? And what random BS do the Bat kids do to actively encourage the superstitions because they think it’s funny?

Vibrates in headcanons.

Okay, so, this is less just the criminals of Gotham- a lot of goons are just trying to put food on the table after all- and more of, Gothamites in general. Like they have good reason to be superstitious.

Like everyone already knows about the Court of Owls, if nothing else then from the Rhyme they use to get children to behave. But Gotham? Is Weird with a capital W even in canon. There are literal streets that disappear and only reappear on certain days, areas where on specific days gravity just doesn't work right, several portals to hell have been opened just in Arkham alone, and there's enough curses and cults to smother any other place.

Funnily enough I am actually currently working on a story that focuses a bit more on the superstitions of Gotham lol. Like a lot of this stuff? Not shit you're going to see in the more tourist-esque spots, but those are death traps already.

Now a lot of the habits and myths of Gotham start out as a thing about Survival. It started less with things about the Bats and more about the Rogues and how to survive.

Tiny plant boxes meticulously cared for, after one noticed how plants react when Ivy is around. They line the windows of almost every home despite the smog, and some even pray through them for their Mother to not attack today.

Small scarecrow dolls, made of grass balls and cloth hang from overhangs on roofs with rope like a hangman, a charm in hopes that the one walking the streets will leave them alone. It ends with some claiming that if you rip the head from the body of cloth, the Scarecrow will come for you.

Small candles and lanterns begin to appear on the windowsills of children, their own homemade batsignals. Some say if you're very good, gifts will appear beside it, while others claim that if you're very bad, the Signal will appear and take you away.

Tiny shrines appear on rooftops over the years, meticulously carved statuettes within. It started with one for the Second Robin, and some whisper about how the Red Hood emerged from it, was reborn through their prayers and gifts. Now there are more, offerings ranging from snacks to child's drawings to figures of clay. No one dares take things from it, the last time someone tried... well, let's just say it didn't end well.

The thing is? The Bats don't even have to do much to encourage this, and don't usually even do it on purpose.

Everyone knows what happened to the ones who tried to be a vigilante. They know of the first Batgirl, humanity slowly dripped away the longer she huddled in the Bat's shadow until she was twisting around just like it. Any child who had been making their own costumes, their parents burned it that night, terrified that the Bat would take their children to be its own next. The small child, everyone knew about him, a wee little thing with a camera clutched against his chest. They all saw him run after the Bats despite the protests, saw him run towards the Bat as bodies crumbled before it. They saw him grab its arm with such tiny hands, and the Bat, grieving, stopped. They all saw the Bat whisk him away, and once more whispered to their children to never follow the Bats into the shadows. They know of the girl cloaked in amethyst cloth, who chased after them despite the warnings and pleadings of others. She disappeared, and the faceless thing of chittering laughs that raced the Robin that appeared in her stead... Everyone knows what happens to those who offer themselves to the Bats, knowingly or not.

Robin can mimic voices, their own childish giggles and clicks echoing across the stone slipping into another's words. What is merely a game to them is horrific for anyone wandering the streets in the dark of the night. Some say that it can steal your voice permanently if it so wished.

Everyone in Gotham knows that the Bats aren't human. Oh they might mimic and pretend to be as such, or even had been at some point, but they're confident they aren't. Even if they put on an act outside of Gotham, corpse-like skin gaining hints of color like blood is actually rushing through veins, everyone knows that's what it is. An act.

The Bats themselves? Well, it keeps their civilian identity safe- and the shrines have helped them get children out of bad home lives and to safety, so they're not going to just... not encourage it.

#ask answered #gotham #cryptid batfam #cryptid batfamily #cryptid batman #batman #batman au #gothamites #gotham city #headcanons #i have so many more #though some depend on the timeline & like where you live in Gotham

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brucewaynehater101 · 4 days

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I keep seeing you mention Bart as the "Scariest YJ member" and I would love your full analysis of why that is (aka I kind of want to explore writing evil/morally grey YJ but i'm not as familiar with canon stuff)

Thank you in advance and btw always love your stuff <33

I'll warn that I'm not as familiar with Bart's canon, but yes he does scare me. I'm struggling a bit to put it into words, but hopefully this is close.

The other YJ members are obviously powerful. Tim and Bart are the only ones to probably be underestimated by a new villain. Tim's completely human, and Bart keeps up a demeanor of being a bit of an air head.

However, Tim is extremely intelligent and willing to go to lengths that aren't considered morally okay. Every hero and villain knows that, though. He's Batman's protege. Everyone knows the Bats are a paranoid bunch, probably have contingency plans against you, can beat you in a fight, and that Tim is considered a genius. He's a threat, and if you underestimate him, he'll ensure you never do again.

Bart? He's insanely smart and has a photographic memory. He is an overall great guy, but he was raised in a virtual reality of the future. He had accelerated aging until his morphological age of 12, or the chronological age of two. He most likely doesn't have the same ties to social standards of acceptable behaviors and acceptable levels of violence. Before he was zapped into the past, he also was dealing with world ending perils. I'm not sure I'm explaining this right, but Bart is like a hidden danger. He's bubbly and kind personality wise, but he knows how to vibrate your skeleton out of your skin. He might be impulsive and he might talk a lot, but he can and will obliterate you.

He purposefully doesn't threaten people. Kon could stand there glaring to intimidate people. Cassie too. Tim would raise an eyebrow as he dares you to cross him. Bart? He doesn't really try to intimidate. He can, he could list the various ways he could utilize the speedforce to cause you excrutiating pain, but he doesn't. If he did intimidate someone in that way, he would immediately switch back to jabbering on about this or that with a happy demeanor. The others don't have as tight of a claim to a bubbly personality as Bart.

Bart is consistently overlooked and underestimated by the hero community and villains. His demeanor causes people to lower their guards and underestimate him (whether intentional or not). If Bart would go evil, I think he would act the exact same. He would babble on about positive and happy things as he kills people. He wouldn't be much different from how he currently is if he committed atrocities, and that's scary.

Hopefully, that kind of explains why he's so scary. He hides how insanely powerful he is (intentionally or not) and isn't taken as seriously. His team knows better, but everyone else? No.

#bart allen #dc comics #dc universe #young justice #young just us #tim drake #bart allen is scary #scary bart #bamf bart allen #thank you for the ask!!!!

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iamadequate1 · 2 months

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The canyon is Big Mad right now that Gypsy dares to make "Con's" WJW appearance "50% a filler episode."

You can find similar chirps around this that if Con praises Gypsy at all, it's an Oscar winning performance; that Con is the third biggest player in the whole thing and he shouldn't be disrespected; that they can't believe that people were paid to write S2; that people who aren't happy with scene cuts is reinforcing the canyon claims of Bad Writing; that Lucius should've married Izzy; and on and on it goes. I thought I had already blocked the most vocal of these people, but I guess not.

Look... if you thought that the antagonist who spent years abusing one of the romantic leads and tried to kill the other romantic lead on multiple occasions was going to skip off into the sunset with a cute romance instead of being dead, that's a You Problem, not a Writing Problem.

If you cannot comprehend that Ed thought of Izzy only as a toxic father figure and never a romantic or sexual interest, that's a You Problem.

If you thought Lucius was going to abandon his cute, canon romance for an abusive POS he never showed interest in besides disdain, that's a You Problem.

If you thought the paper thin antagonist who was missing for half of S1 was "third most important" over Lucius, Jim, or even other side characters like Jackie and now (especially with the spinoff rumors!) Zheng, that's a You Problem.

If you invented storylines around Izzy's queer arc, his disability arc, his suicidal arc, etc, and you can't accept that none of those arcs actually happened in canon, that's a You Problem.

If you're still shaking in rage at people associated with the show or fans of the *actual* show (not your shitty HCs) still after over four months of being unable to find mute and block functionality, that's a You Problem.

If you don't see a problem with the canyon's harassment of Nathan during his WJW and the canyon driving people to instantly have well founded concerns about the canyon's upcoming behavior during Gypsy and David's WJWs, that's a You Problem.

#our flag means death #ofmd #izzy hands #fandom critical #canyon critical

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helly-watermelonsmellinfellon · 27 days

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Leaving out how shitty of person Sakura is and how she literally never grows up. She was nasty at 8, nasty at 16, and continued to be nasty in her 30s when she became a parent...

People who genuinely don't like Sakura aren't sitting there disparaging her body, hair, or forehead. They're calling into question how her one goal in life was to become the wife of a boy she continued to disrespect for years. How she didn't take her job seriously and put her team in danger because of it, despite no one forcing her to become a ninja. How she continues to treat her own friends and even her daughter terribly.

Emotions?

You mean where she consistently invaded someone's personal space, refused to take NO for an answer, and then made his trauma about her contrived feelings?

Or how she invalidates everyone else's feelings in favor of her own and manipulates even her child's father, so he won't learn the truth of her behavior at home?

Ideals?

You mean the obsession with her looks and not training until Sasuke and Naruto almost die in front of her?

Or how even after that she didn't start taking things seriously until Sasuke left?

Or what about when all her character growth vanished because she got the chance to see Sasuke again and just stopped being helpful in the canon story and went back to being selfish and rude?

Dreams & Goals?

You mean the desire to be Sasuke's wife regardless of how many times he's pushed her away, told her she was annoying, and avoided her?

Or how her obsession with him was so intense she had to try and guilt trip him in the middle of a war for the sake of the world, into confessing non-existent love to her all because SHE claimed to love him?

Or how she was so attached to being an Uchiha wife that she wears his mon like a badge of honor on all of her clothes when he can't even force himself to wear it or even return to the village to see her and his kid.

Relationships?

You mean where she got the guy in the end, but still decided to be a sob story who did everything alone and then complained about getting no help?

You mean where she was hoping with everything in her being, that her new teammate would insult her supposed best friend too so she would be just as hurt?

Or is it how her obsession with a guy was so intense that she drugged her entire team and left them unconscious in enemy territory just so she could go off to see him to 'kill him' but still needed her drugged teammate to come and save her from being killed by him instead?

Or what about when she broke off her first ever friendship over her obsession simply because of hearsay?

Or what about when she taped her picture over the picture of her husband's friend, and then got angry because her daughter found out and dared to ask questions about it, so she threw a super punch at the space by her kid's feet and took the whole house down in the process?

Or what about that time where she was heavenly pregnant and decided to charge into a very dangerous situation, all for the sake of pride and not being left in her teammate's shadows as usual, and then literally put herself and her unborn child at risk?

Abilities & Strengths?

You mean how her stans try to act like she's surpassed her master by 17, and is better than every other woman in the series when she keeps getting curb-stomped and still needs to be saved by everyone else?

Like, no one is arguing that she hasn't improved as a ninja, cuz it's pretty damn obvious she did, but when y'all sit there being like, 'she's a goddess and Hinata sucks!' are you really being truthful? The enhanced punches aren't helping her all that much so all she's got is healing and even then, she's still not the best at it by adulthood. And she hasn't exactly made a name for herself as she never got out of her teammate's shadows... because she wasn't serious when it mattered.

Y'all brag about how 'Sakura won' when comparing her marriage to Ino's as if Ino isn't in a happy relationship. As if Ino doesn't have a good family unit and that Sai isn't a good father. Sasuke won't come back to the village and only talks to Naruto. Sasuke has never kissed Sakura but HAS kissed Naruto and a Dinosaur of all things. Sasuke didn't even know what his daughter looked like when he met her. When Sakura got stabbed while standing beside him, he didn't care, but when it happened to Naruto he asked after Naruto's well-being. Sakura got the guy she always salivated over, but she didn't actually win anything.

Your consistent need to degrade Hinata and Ino as characters to 'prove' that Sakura is somehow better than them, is also sus. Objectively, they have more character growth and better motivations, and while they might not be super strong and can't punch a house to smithereens in a tantrum, they're far better characters and have better relationships with the people in their lives.

But yeah. People not liking SH for all of these things that make up her character, means they are misogynists.

#anti sakura haruno #anti sasusaku #the irony of trying to act like you care about how ppl treat female characters when your whole account's filled with Hinata and Ino slander #like congrats on your activism there pal

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h0bg0blin-meat · 2 months

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I think I need to make it clear for many Vaishnav (looking especially at you, ISKON) Hindu extremists (and even many Shaivites) that ya'll can have your sects and your beliefs as Vishnu or Shiva as your supreme lords. I don't have an issue with that.

But when you try to say that this is the ONLY truth about the Vedic religion (I'm not using Hinduism here because it doesn't sum up the pantheon as much as the ''Vedic" word does, despite the term being associated with the Vedas, and yes we need to come up with a better word that comprises this entire pantheon as a whole), that's when I have a problem, because that is definitely NOT the entire pantheon.

Do not spread the beliefs of your sect as the ONLY canon belief and don't speak for the people who don't fall under this category. I have seen this in all of social media and it pains me how much of a linear pantheon this once oh-so flexible culture has become.

Yes the concept of Prajapati and the Supreme being has existed since the Vedas. But when you say that Vishnu and Shiva are somehow superior to other gods as the ONLY CANONICAL BELIEF, that just flips me off, and I'm gonna call it out.

How dare you forget the four Vedas, that had no mention of such an idea? This might tick some people off but Indra, Agni, Rudra (which later became synonymous with Shiva, but is a whole different deity), Mitra, Varuna, Vayu and a few other Gods were just as much powerful as Vishnu or Shiva, if not more. This is ANOTHER canonical truth that these extremists (again, somehow mostly Vaishnav) are denying.

Ancient pantheons weren't some linear path with just one canon event. These were their own multiverses of a plethora of VARIOUS canon events, myths and legends. So stop making the Vedic religion a linear, rigid pantheon. Remember? It's not an organized religion. There can be SEVERAL canonical truths. Like I definitely understand that a religion/culture changes overtime. It evolves. Fine. Vishnu is the supreme God now, fine. But you can't deny the history. The Vedas that didn't canonize this. Are you gonna say that these Vedas, that came BEFORE this Vishnu/Shiva being the considered the supreme lord(s), were wrong? I hope not lol.

Besides, I'm not even gonna get into ISKON. They have regarded anyone that's not Vishnu as a demigod, which is ABSOLUTELY VILE AND DISRESPECTFUL. Do they even KNOW what a demigod is??? FUCK NO. They don't. They just like to use that word to inferiorize other deities, due to their unhealthy and toxic obsession with Vishnu, who doesn't deserve it. On top of that they have claimed that worshipping such gods will not lead you to eternal peace, or that it's somehow wrong. Ah yes. Gotta love gatekeeping and toxic cult fan behavior. Call me rude but if you disrespect a GOD (yes, Indra, Mitra, Varuna and others are ALSO GODS, FYI) is WILD, and they should be called out for it. (Some Shaivites have done the same in case of Shiva, and they need to be similarly called out.)

In conclusion, worship whoever tf you want, but remember that theologically, and even historically, there can be more than one canonical story. It really depends on which sect/region you belong to. You CAN be a polytheist. Idk why Hindus these days are inadvertently trying to appeal to the monotheistic pantheons so much, to the point that they have an internal dislike for polytheism, which they're not aware of, but it shows when they speak up.

This pantheon (like every other pagan pantheon back in the day) is very broad. Remember that. And it's very flexible. So let it be like that, and stop gatekeeping it and having a war between who supreme Lord is. I'll stop my yapping here. But I hope people understand this. Cuz damn.

#Im sorry but this needed to be addressed #this whole thing has had been a pain in my ass #anyways #hindu mythology #hinduism #hindu myths #hindu gods #vishnu #shiva #desiblr #hindu #hindublr #paganblr #paganism #desi tumblr #vedic culture #vedic mythology #vedic literature #hindu religion

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house-of-daena · 7 months

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extra thoughts!!!

i know this freak (affectionate) will absolutely kill to have any mark of you on him. brand your name on him with iron and watch his eyes roll back from pain and orgasmic ecstasy of being claimed as yours, tramp stamps and womb tattoos so he can point to exactly where he wants you to fill him up and wouldn’t dare let a drop go to waste on anyone else, bleeding bitemarks and blooming bruises, scratches down his back and a nearly lost voice do nothing but get him head over heels all over again at how thoroughly you claim him as yours.

put a collar and tug him by a leash, make him your loyal, filthy puppy that can only whine and beg for his master to breed him full of a litter and remind him of his place. grab him by his messy hair and impale the needy bitch of a husband you have on your cock as he desperately swallows everything you’ve graciously gifted him— and ignore the subordinate who definitely heard the loud gulps and sucking from under your desk as you watch your cum drip from the corners of his mouth and the adorable hearts in his eyes as he looks up at you.

you’ve probably, very likely have gone through the classic potions and experiments over all these years together: aphrodisiacs that leave you two going at it like feral animals for days on end with no breaks (as if either of you would dare think of such a thing), enhancements that have him gasping because he can feel you in his fucking throat!, and more hours spent with him stuck on your knot than you could reasonably guess because you’re husband’s a needy pervert that only needs his husband to satisfy every dirty little fantasy that fills his pretty little head <3 drag him into the cold waters of your homeland so you’re the only one who can warm him up with tentacles that caress and overstimulate him, bite his neck and take alllllll~ of the blood you want from him to see how stupid and delirious he can get and still beg for you, envelop him in your wings so you can watch him lick his translucent cum off your feathers <3

wow ur really busting ass with these dottie thoughts 😭

omgg branding dottore... it's a surprise because he's the one who brought it up in the first place! asking you to brand him, handing you a metal rod with your name carved on it 💕 he'd absolutely love the pain it brings! reminder that only u could hurt him like that,, he'd be staring at your name on his skin for hours and hours, he just can't get enough! he'd be so elated if you tattoo him yourself to be honest, marks with your name on it—he'd be sooo obsessed with it 😭😭 if he attends a meeting with a raspy voice, they don't question it... it's normal at this point 💕

ohhh dottore 100% develops a breeding kink solely because of you! u always fill him up so much his tummy would swell, makes me delirous and think about having your babies 😊😊 and a collar?? you bet he'd wear that EVERYWHERE, showing everyone who he belongs to and making all of his poor segments jealous with a smug smirk on his lips! absolutely into getting caught or getting fucked 'secretly'... you could pull him somewhere and tell him to he quiet but nah, he's being as loud as he could 💞

AND DOTTORE TURNING HIS LOVER INTO A MONSTER JDHFJHDDH... he's literally giving u so many traits that makes u look at him questionable bc 1. how is this ethical in a battle and 2. he's looking at you with such lustful eyes... really canon dottore is a monster fucker.. you'd probably wake up with 2 dicks n u gotta punish him by fucking his hole with both 💞 he has his own supply of aphrodisiacs that he made himself! and he makes them extremely potent that makes y'all fuck for sooo long... loves loves bug, darkened claws that makes his skin tear and bleed... loves your big maw with many sharp teeth... loves the tentacles that ties him up and keeping him pinned.. loves the knot that keeps you stuck inside him...

#» asmo talks #» mutuals: pulpbeing #sub dottore #sub genshin #sub genshin impact #ILYYYYYY NEX /P GRHSHHSSGSHSGSUS 💕💕💞💞#ok back to work

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fiona-fififi · 16 days

Text

Of Coffee and Crushes

Rating: G

Fandom: 9-1-1

Pairing(s): Evan Buckley/Tommy Kinard, Pre-relationship Evan Buckley/Eddie Diaz

Summary: Buck asks Tommy out for coffee, but he orders Eddie's usual. 7x05 extended scene.

Notes: Inspired by this random thought I had after rewatching the episode a dozen times yesterday.

911 spoilers, canon compliant to 7x05, Pre-relationship buddie, fluff, extended scene

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Ao3 Link

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They sit quietly for long moments after Tommy’s agreed to join Buck for the wedding, Buck's hand a pleasant weight on Tommy’s own, and their matching grins never wavering. It feels good, Tommy thinks, to just exist in the same space. He feels a little infatuated with the way Buck smiles so sweetly and lets himself be vulnerable—all the walls he'd built up before crumbling down to let in the bright joy Tommy’s realizing the kid radiates so much of the time.

It's a good feeling.

But nothing lasts forever, Tommy thinks, so he's not entirely surprised when Buck’s smile falters a bit and he pulls his hand back to busy himself sipping at his coffee. He has something to say. Tommy can see it in the way he can't seem to sit still, hands in constant movement and leg clearly bouncing beneath the table. Tommy waits him out.

“So, uh, I—” Buck takes a stuttering breath finally, trying to calm himself as his expression shifts into something that looks unsure again “—I told Eddie.”

That takes Tommy by surprise. He's not sure he'd expected the kid to open up that quickly after the debacle in the restaurant. “Did you?” he prompts, curious.

“Yeah, uh. Eddie's a really good guy,” Buck supplies, like Tommy doesn't know.

Tommy huffs a little laugh at that and nods along as he says, “yeah. Yeah, he is.”

He means it to be reassuring, but Buck bristles a bit at that—just a brief tensing of his shoulders that he shakes off as quickly as it comes. But Tommy catches it. Snaps his mouth closed to let Buck continue and makes a mental note that Eddie might still be a sensitive topic where Tommy’s concerned.

Once Buck gathers himself, he continues, again settled back into the soft, open demeanor he'd started with, and Tommy watches him curiously as he smiles and says, “yeah, he's the best. And I got in my head over it, because I can't lose him, you know? Eddie and Christopher are just. they—they're really important to me, you know?”

Tommy hums in agreement and nods. Doesn't dare interrupt again as Buck spills half of his heart into the space between them.

“I just. Eddie's always been there for me. Even, uh, even when he had every reason to turn his back on me,” Buck confides. And Tommy’s not entirely sure what's opened the floodgates, but he's simultaneously grateful and increasingly suspicious that Buck might be subconsciously laying claim to Eddie and everything they have after Tommy’s misguided interruption. “I should have known that it would be okay, and I should have just been honest with him then and there, and I am so sorry that I made everything weird the other night.”

Ah, Tommy thinks, a little amused, another apology, then. The kid is sweet, even if he could use a little more confidence.

“Listen, Evan,” Tommy tries, all warmth to try to put him at ease, “I get it that you weren't ready to tell him. And, yeah, it was a lot to take in with exactly how you tried to lie around it, but you don't need to justify yourself to me or defend Eddie.”

Buck looks a little sheepish, then, picking at the lid of his coffee, the plastic making little popping noises every time he flicks it with a nervous finger. “Yeah?”

“Frankly,” Tommy starts, a hint of amusement in his tone, “I don't think there are many of us who would have come out to anyone in a crowded restaurant while on a first date. Seems like a lot.”

Buck laughs genuinely at that, like it's finally hitting him that, yeah, maybe the run-in at the restaurant wouldn't have been the place to do it, and Tommy can't help the way warmth blooms in his chest at just how sweet and loving and a little bit silly the man before him is.

For a few moments, they're quiet, then. Buck ducking his head in embarrassment, even while that sweet smile stays firmly in place, and Tommy sipping at the terrible coffee Buck had bought him. There's no tension in the moment—the nervous energy Buck had brought to their first date out of fear of being found out now replaced with a different kind of nervous energy. One that feels an awful lot like a kid with a crush, and Tommy can't even judge him for it because he thinks he's feeling it, too.

“So,” Tommy finally finds his voice, changes the subject to something that feels a little lighter and safer because he likes the way his stomach is filled with butterflies and the way Buck's smile kind of takes his breath away, and they don't need any more heavy apologies. So he asks, all curiosity, “is this your usual order?” as he eyes the scrawl on the cardboard sleeve of his coffee cup. It looks decidedly different from what's on Buck's.

“Uh—no,” Buck admits a little flustered at the change in topic, “n-no, it's uh, it's Eddie's, actually.”

“hmm,” Tommy hums, pressing his lips together and letting an eyebrow quirk just a little as he examines the coffee sleeve a little closer, “not sure I would have pegged Eddie as a cream and sugar kind of guy.”

Buck stays quiet but nods with a fond smile, picking at the cardboard seam on his own cup. Tommy can't quite see the markings on Buck's own cup clearly enough to read them, but he's curious now.

“Why Eddie's?” Tommy asks, fond smile still in place because if nothing else the kid is adorable—just a bundle of excitement and nerves—and Tommy knows he should probably give him a break, but he kind of likes riling him up.

“Uh,” Buck blinks, tilts his head and scrunches his brow like he’s not sure. Then, after a moment, he shrugs, “I don't know. Felt weird to get you my regular order, you know? And you, uh, you and Eddie have a lot in common, right?”

“So you figured we'd have the same coffee order?” Tommy laughs, genuinely amused, and it makes Buck smile wide. The kid's got an excellent smile.

“O-kay, laugh it up,” Buck retorts, grin widening and brightening up those pretty blue eyes even further. Tommy thinks he might be a little smitten. “It was the first one that came to mind.”

“Mmm, okay,” Tommy presses his lips together around the toothy smile he suddenly realizes he's still wearing. Can't give himself away altogether on a second date. Knows, still, that Buck can see the glimmer of fond amusement in his eyes. “So, you do a lot of the coffee runs for the 118, then?”

“Wh—” Buck looks confused, shakes his head and blinks until suddenly it looks like the implication sinks in and he stutters his way through a nervous response. It's sweet. “Uh, no. No, uh, actually, I have a-a terrible memory for coffee orders. So, uh, I'm usually last pick.”

“But you know Eddie's.” Tommy can feel the way the corner of his mouth tips up in an amused smirk. Tries hard to play it off.

Buck blushes and ducks his head again like he’s been caught. Rubs at the back of his neck and tries to gather himself, even as the pink of cheeks spreads to his ears. Looks like he's trying to find a response that won't give him away.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do know Eddie's,” he finally settles on, lifting his eyes to meet Tommy’s. It feels a bit like a challenge. “But I'd like to know yours, too.”

Tommy nods. There's still a fond smirk tilting his lips, and he knows—he knows —he probably shouldn't be getting attached here. That there's something more to the best friendship Buck keeps claiming for himself and Eddie like he’s trying to convince himself of something. And Tommy’s not sure if Buck knows yet, if he's realized the challenge he's just issued.

And Tommy knows he won't win. Knows that whatever it is Buck and Eddie have is the lasting kind.

But hell, it never hurt to have a little fun.

—

#this summary is terrible but i could not come up with a single other thing so. it is what it is.#bucktommy #buddie #bucktommy fic #buddie fic #911 spoilers #my writing #my fic #i don't know how to tag this

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another-lost-mc · 6 months

Text

candy prompts: mephistopheles + spooky

you are bestowed as a gift to one of the vampire prince's most loyal subjects, mephistopheles.

pairing: mephistopheles x gn!reader

content: nsfw. dark vampire au. mentions of canon-typical vampire behaviour (mind control, blood-drinking, murder of humans); abduction and non-consensual touching/bathing; derogatory language used to describe reader/humans; suggestive thoughts towards reader; non-con mentioned/threatened but not carried out.

word count: 1.9k don't ask

a/n: takes place sometime after my vampire!diavolo fic (recommended but not required reading).

Mephisto could hardly believe it, but according to his very rigid standards, you were perfect—for a human, anyway.

He received a letter that was delivered to his ancestral home earlier that evening. His lord wanted to reward his unwavering loyalty and friendship and summoned him to the Vampire Lord's Castle to claim it. When he entered the room where he was told his special gift was waiting for him, he found you.

The young prince was known for hosting the finest hunts and parties in the realm, and the selection of humans for both events were sublime in appearance and taste. However, Mephisto had never seen anyone—human, vampire, or otherwise—as lovely as you before. It's as though his lord searched the world for the single human that suited all of Mephisto's very specific preferences as a blood donor and a lover. Hunger and lust warred within him, a rare feeling that made him giddy with sinful anticipation. As his eyes roamed your body hungrily, he realized he wanted to use you to satisfy all his desires tonight.

Before you were brought to him, Mephisto realized you had been prepared for his use; he could faintly detect the lingering scent of herbal soap and body oils used to soften your skin. You were dressed in a simple black robe, fastened loosely with a belt at your waist for easy access to your naked body underneath. Like the linens that covered the bed, the dark clothes you wore would mask the stains of blood and whatever else he might smear across your skin before the night was through.

Mephisto's mouth watered despite the slightly pungent hint of fear that radiated off you in waves. Your eyes widened fearfully under his scrutiny but as he dared to step closer, you didn't move. He realized you were immobilized with magic, and it was up to him to decide when—or if—you would be free of your invisible shackles tonight.

The vampire servants that bathed you earlier giggled as they scrubbed your skin with soap and massaged the lather onto your scalp. They spoke about you like you weren't even there, as if you couldn't hear every scathing word about your plain looks and repulsive stench. They washed away the evidence of your struggle when your abductors captured you; you scraped your hands and knees on the ground when they subdued you in a grungy alley near your work.

The servants also cooed about Prince Diavolo's kindness and how lucky Lord Mephistopheles was to have such a generous benefactor. You shivered despite the scalding water in the tub. These were nothing like the vampires in the cheesy romance novels you used to read. You didn't want to imagine the purpose a monstrous prince or one of his lords would have for you.

Another vampire observed quietly while you were being prepared, blending into the shadows of the room and giving soft-spoken commands to the servants. You never heard his name, but he seemed to be someone of great importance; the servants were quick to obey him.

You burned with shame when you were finally pulled out of the bathwater and dried off with a large, soft towel. The vampire's pale face and dark eyes were no less intimidating when he stepped from the darkness to scrutinize your appearance. His mouth twitched with amusement when you cowered under his gaze and tried uselessly to hide your nakedness from him.

It was a small mercy when one of the servants slipped a drab robe onto your shoulders and cinched it tightly at the waist. The cruel vampire finally nodded his approval and commended the others doing their prince's bidding with speed and efficiency. He commented that you were now an appropriate gift, worthy enough for the noble demon lord. His praising tone, the way one might compliment a finely cooked piece of meat, made your blood run cold; you realized at that moment that you were probably going to die tonight.

Before you could stammer a useless plea for mercy, he snapped his fingers. You were suddenly gagged with a thick strip of cloth that seemed to appear out of thin air and tied tightly behind your head. Your arms and legs were immobilized as if they were suddenly bound in chains. You couldn't speak and you couldn't move—you were powerless to fight back.

The vampire lifted you easily in his arms and carried you to another room. It was sparsely furnished except for a large bed, and you knew a terrible fate worse than death awaited you there. Tears welled in your eyes and slipped down your cheeks, soaking into the fabric that muffled your cries. Salty tears dried your skin and chapped your lips. The vampire prince's butler was immune to your grief and bowed primly at the waist, an elegant but spiteful gesture, before leaving the room and locking the door behind him.

You were left alone with no chance of escape, shrouded in near-darkness. A single lighted sconce flickered so that flames danced along the walls, teasing you with comfort but providing none. It felt like an eternity when the sound of heavy boots approached the door. You closed your eyes when a key turned in the lock with a metallic click. You were afraid to look at the vampire lord who stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

Mephisto circled you slowly, deliberately, letting the anticipation of tonight's feast simmer deep in his belly. He could practically hear the warm blood that pumped erratically in your veins with each moment that passed in tense silence. His eyes lingered on the unmarked column of your throat and your body beneath the flimsy robe you wore. He imagined sinking his fangs into you while he buried himself in the tight heat between your thighs and it made his cock twitch.

He finally stopped in front of you and leaned close to scent you properly. The strength of his spicy cologne overwhelmed you. His leather gloves tracing over the dried trail of tears on your cheeks and you shivered.

"You are remarkably beautiful, even in despair," he murmured. The barbed compliment left you speechless like an icy wind on a dark winter's night; the arm that circled your waist didn't offer any warmth. He slipped two of his gloved fingers underneath the scarf still tied between your lips. You tasted earthy leather when he slipped his fingers into your mouth and brushed them over the tip of your tongue. He finally pulled his fingers away when you gagged, tugging the silky material over your chin so it laid loose and damp around your neck.

"Sleep," he commanded softly, eyes glowing gently in the dark room. His voice was deep and gritty from hunger and desire, but you blinked at him fearfully when nothing happened.

His brows furrowed in confusion. "Sleep," he urged again, putting more magic behind the command; his voice was sharper and louder than before. His face darkened when that simple magic failed him again, and the heat in his eyes hardened like steel. His body thrummed with frustration and you shook your head pitifully, but your helplessness seemed to enrage him further.

The world spun when he suddenly pushed you chest-down onto the bed. His body was a heavy weight laid against your back, and he caged you underneath him even though you had no possible chance of escape. His hot breath fanned across your nape and you jolted in his arms when the outline of his erection twitched against your lower back.

Later he would wonder why such a perfectly insignificant creature like you was immune to his magic. For now, all he felt was embarrassment that soured his temper and made his anger soar.

I'll remind you of your place, he thought to himself bitterly, incensed by your mind’s stubborn refusal to submit to him. He grabbed your chin roughly and tilted your head to the side so he could sniff where your heartbeat was strongest. A low growl rumbled deep in his chest and then you felt searing hot pain when he sank his fangs into your neck without remorse.

His bite was deep and fierce in his frustration and hunger. He drank noisily and messily, gnawing at the wounds he made so your blood spilled freely. His lips slurped at the deep crimson rivulets that ran down your throat and dripped onto the bed. His hips moved on their own accord, seeking friction for his aching cock against your warm and pliant body while he nursed his wounded pride with the blood in your veins.

The toxic secretion from his fangs was supposed to fill your mind and body with euphoria, but whatever pleasure he gave you was outweighed by the carelessness of his feeding. Your body jerked against him, but the urge to fight him dwindled quickly as exhaustion from blood loss fell over you like a heavy fog. You were perilously close to death, and you succumbed to your hopeless fate. Your heartbeat grew faint with each pulse of blood that poured from your wound and into his greedy mouth.

Even in his frenzy, Mephisto felt the moment you lost consciousness underneath him. He wondered why he cared. Why should he care? You were his gift to use and discard at his leisure. He could drain you dry and leave your wilted corpse on the bed for the servants to dispose of later. He would thank his lord for his generosity.

His memory of you, like your very existence, would eventually be forgotten.

Unless...?

He pulled away from your neck with a gasp. His mouth was slick with syrupy blood that coated his lips and trickled down his chin. He swallowed hastily and leaned forward to inspect your wounds. He touched his tongue to your neck and laved over the jagged tears he bit into your flesh. He silently urged his healing magic to close the wounds and stop the bleeding.

He didn't want to think too much about the overwhelming relief he felt when the marks closed and faded away. Later he would wonder why this magic worked when his charms earlier did not; for now, he had to ensure you were cared for.

When he lifted himself off you and stood next to the bed, he inspected the damage he'd done to your body and the bed. The linens and the top of your robe were soaked through with your blood. He slipped his hands beneath you so he could roll you onto your back. Despite the deathly pallor that tinted your complexion, your face was completely relaxed. He leaned over you and rubbed his thumb along your bottom lip. A bit of blood left on his gloves spread across your lips, and he thought red was a fetching colour on you.

Perhaps later you'd wake up with the taste of blood on your tongue. He wondered what your bloody kiss might taste like if he pressed his mouth to yours. Only when his nose brushed against your cheek did he notice how close he came to kissing you, like some invisible power drew him to you against his will.

He pulled away quickly like he had been burned and only spared you a fleeting glance before gathering his coat and rushing from the room. You were a mystery to solve, and he would pry the answers from you one way or another. But first, he had arrangements to make: you were his now.

read more: halloween 2023 masterlist || obey me masterlist

#obey me #obey me mephistopheles #mephistopheles x reader #obey me mephisto x reader #obey me x reader #x reader #gn!reader #trick or treat 2023 #tw noncon #vampire au

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