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whumppmuhw · 7 months

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Whumptober Day 12: Self harm

tw: bodily self harm, non-suicidal self harm, minor cuts, minor burns, intrusive thoughts, distorted thoughts/way of thinking, trauma, harmful inner dialogue, triggering imagery

It started with small cuts on the hand, easily disguised as papercuts. Whumpee had been getting into reading again; Caretaker would understand. Dragging one's finger on the edge of the knife page was so tempting. A few days and bandages later and it was like it had never happened at all. Caretaker and Whumpee could just forget about it. The urge got stronger. Whumpee went about their day as normally as possible, healing from cuts their time with Whumper and getting used to a new life with Caretaker. It weighed on their mind constantly, and the mask of being okay was becoming hard to stay on. Whumpee enjoyed their time with Caretaker. Caretaker was always willing to help them and to try and fix the broken pieces of themself. They can't fix this. They could tell Caretaker anything. Not about this. Caretaker would help them through anything. So why not tell them? Whumpee wanted Caretaker to be happy. Soon, it included standing in the too hot shower or holding their hands under the scalding water. Burns are less messy than cuts. Then Whumpee would remember what happened with Whumper in front of the fireplace, and would get scared and turn the water down. Why do you do this? Whumpee wasn't used to not constantly feeling some degree of pain. It's comforting, I know pain. There were many things Whumpee wasn't used to, but they wanted to get better. I feel like I'm getting worse. Caretaker had a nice job, and was able to provide for the both of them. The temptation grows stronger while they're away. I'm safer when they're here, but they can't be all of the time. Whumpee thought it might be nice to get a job of their own and to get out of the house, even if just part time. Who would want somebody so broken? Whumpee remembered their job before everything that happened with Whumper, and while the work was tiresome, their coworkers were fun to be around. What would they think of you now, you pitiful thing... One day, when Caretaker was at work, Whumpee decided to try baking something. Before they could start, they had to tackle the pile of dishes in the sink. Be careful not to "accidentally" grab a knife by its blade... Whumpee started on the task, moving slowly and carefully. There were a few knives at the bottom, of various sizes. Whumpee picked them up and started to inspect them. No harm in doing that if you're not harming yourself. Whumpee inspected the tips of the blade, how heavy they felt, and checked for any chips along the blade. They put the knives in the diswasher and started the cycle. While they waited for the dishes, Whumpee went to read their book, but instead headed for the bathroom. Just in case, I want to make sure Caretaker has adequate first-aid supplies. They opened the cabinet under the sink and found bandages, gauze, burn cream, and individually wrapped pads soaked in rubbing alcohol. You wouldn't be looking here unless you wanted to do it. Give in already. Whumpee left the bathroom and tried to read their book, but they couldn't concentrate. Eventually the dishwasher chimed and Whumpee went to dry and unload it. Don't think about the knives, they can't hurt you if you don't let them. What if I want to let them? Whumpee pulled a box of cake mix from the cupboards and two pre-filled piping bags. They were going to make a bloody mess some cupcakes. Caretaker would be delighted when they came home! Not at the sight of your blood, only Whumper would like- Whumpee pushed the thought away and turned on the small radio Caretaker kept in the kitchen. They found a station of current pop hits, which wasn't their thing, but it would help keep them distracted. From what? Your own mind? You can't get away from that. Baking, frosting, and decorating the cupcakes went smoothly, and Whumpee enjoyed getting to make something with their hands and bopping along to the radio, even though they didn't know the words. They put the cupcakes in the fridge to let the frosting set up, and would take it out before Caretaker got home to place on the table for them to see.

Whumpee had an hour left to themselves and needed something to do. They could try to read their book, but what if they couldn't concentrate again? Thinking of books made Whumpee think about the crisp edges of pages, and how it felt to run their finger along them. It's not pages you enjoy... They found themself opening the knife drawer. "Just to inspect," but you can't use that excuse now that you've already done that today. Whumpee took out the smallest of the knives, with a blade the length of their thumb. The butcher knife looked rather inviting, but it would have been too much too soon. They ran it along their thumb, and then moved down to their wrist, then arm, with never enough pressure to commit. They wondered what Whumper Caretaker would think of them. They imagined what they would say, "Whumpee, I-I'm so sorry you felt the need to do this to yourself- here, let's clean you up..." before taking Whumpee into their arms as they both cried. "Ha! I guess I don't have to punish you anymore, clearly you can take care of that!" or even worse, Whumper standing behind Whumpee, placing one hand over Whumpee's, the other supporting Whumpee's arm, guiding the blade along their arm as they made Whumpee do it themself... No. Caretaker didn't deserve this. Whumpee didn't deserve this. It was so tempting, too tempting, but Whumpee wasn't going to give in. Whumpee put the knife away and put back on the pop station, though they were blocking most of it out. They paced around the kitchen until Caretaker got home. Caretaker opened the door and was immediately greeted by a tight hug from Whumpee. Caretaker returned the embrace, then a second later was being rushed into the kitchen, where a tray of freshly baked cupcakes sat on the table. "Whumpee, this is amazing! T-thank you! I'll go put my things away, and then we can dig in!" Whumpee was beaming with pride, and admiration for Caretaker. You're safe. For now.

#mine #ailesswhumptober2023 #whumptober #whump #self harm #self harm tw #distorted thoughts tw #distorted way of thinking tw #trauma tw #harmful inner dialogue tw #triggering imagery tw #god I really want to make a part 2 #it's such a heavy topic but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't fun to write #not in a “this topic is fun” way in a “it was interesting to explore this topic and Whumpee's thoughts and actions in a safe controlled #space aka this whump fic" way #also if any of this triggered anyone please take care of yourself #please and thank you #I'll reblog this after posting with a list of what the crossed out lines say for anyone who found them hard to read

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unspokenstydia · 2 years

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LIAM DUNBAR — PEACE

(theo's version.)

#again would recommend expanding the photos <3 #“i could never give you peace” for the way he only ruminates upon the burden that his near deaths and traumas will bring to his parents #(i broke it and it’s my fault. are you mad at me?)#for the way he gives little consideration to what the bite means for himself except that all his progress has been for naught #and that he is doomed to be demonized forever (i can’t do this to them again.)#for the way he constantly thinks he should be further ahead than he is.#(he made team captain as a sophomore…like you! / i’m still having trouble / look i haven’t had to use that in—)#though how can he see himself clearly when so many perceptions of him have distorted his vision so?#for how impossible he finds it to give himself grace.#(more people are going to die—because of me / maybe i do. / why do you keep trying to save me?)#tw: blood #liam dunbar #thiam #theo raeken #twedit #teen wolf stills #dailytw #fyteenwolf #dylan sprayberry #taylor swift lyrics #ch: what? i like history.#—#wasn’t expecting a companion piece to the theo set yet here we are … mirrorball bf and peace bf #also this is me trying bf and cardigan bf #had this for a sec now [screams] sorry to interrupt the tw movie content ah #anyway this is for the thiams who relate to liam a little toooo much for comfort

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schmope-is-dead · 1 month

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I fear that I need to get back into writing or I will actually jump

#charlie.txt #suicide tw #I guess 😭#anyway #when I was little I heard from my pastor that you need to make room in your heart for god #being the child that I was I imagined an actual room #I imagined a living room for god to occupy in my heart #and now I wonder what lingers in that room #I imagine a figure that’s anything but holy #I imagine a distorted creature whose eyes are sunken into its skull. whose mouth is rotten and gaping open #and sometimes I think that creature sees itself as a god too in a way #it only speaks in self praise and it only sees its ‘holy’ features #oh father. how do I rid myself of this creature if it’s taken lodging in my heart #how do I rid myself of a self proclaimed god with ill intent #when it took me years to rid myself of a god with supposed good intent?#I’m afraid that if there were to be nobody in my heart that I would be reduced to latching onto others #for any ounce of their person #so that maybe I could have something in my heart that feels okay #sorry for being cringe on main guys

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yanderestarangel · 5 months

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♡ — 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒 𝐑𝐄 | 𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐃𝐘'𝐒 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃!𝐀𝐋𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐓 𝐖𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐄𝐑

— TW: smut, praise, dark themes, age gap, leve yandere, age gap, friend of your farher!albert wesker, v!sex, manipulation, nsfw, distorted mind, oral, afab anatomy, blackmail, recorded sex, daddykink, no pronouns used besides 'you'.

♡—Wesker was a sick man, he knew that, but Albert's darkest desires could not be ignored for long. He was your dad's co-worker, and to tell the truth, he hated the man, however, there was something about your father that interested him... You.

♡— Wesker, unfortunately for you, laid eyes on you, it was just small glances behind the dark lenses of his glasses, but soon after, you were already in the scientist's darkest thoughts. He thought you were a precious thing, a little pearl that needed to be protected by him, so he decided to get even closer to your dad, it was so easy to manipulate the man and infiltrate your family that Albert found it pathetic, but he needed you... Being close to you, you were eating away at his mind with every bitter second that passed in the older man's abjacent solitude.

♡— Wesker could just get rid of anyone in the worst way possible and lock you up in a place isolated from everything and everyone, make you his untouched little doll, lock you in a glass dome and watch you all day — he could force you to loving him, worshiping him like a god, he wanted to make you walk on the ground he walks on and see your tongue lick every drop of his seed, things escalated very quickly for him, but he didn't care, in the blonde's head, he was a superior being, and could do anything he wanted.

♡— Wesker researched every strong and weak point of your personality, in a few days he had a folder and raw files of hours and hours of recordings of you, either with the wiretap he secretly placed on your cell phone, or with the cameras hidden behind home — which he put it when he went to your house, to drink some wine and hand over some papers from the umbrella to your dad — or for the hours he spent stalking every post of yours on the internet. He knew everything about you... Absolutely everything, you were his obsession, you were his property and his alone... It didn't take long for you to realize that.

♡— Wesker began with calm touches, as if he were watering a flower, wetting your petals of desire with the nectar of hot, forbidden touches. He would pay you so much attention, wearing the best smile behind his serious and cold face, his lips would always have an expression of comfort for you — He would always shower you with sweet nicknames, telling you how proud he is of you always giving your best to you. college grades, or how good you were. He would divert your father's attention just to visit you in your room, giving you expensive gifts that you had wanted for a long time. "— I just remembered you baby, it suits your eyes, don't worry about the value sweetheart." Albert would speak in a hoarse tone, placing the emerald necklace around your neck, brushing his fingers for too long on your skin and leaving soon after, leaving you with a confused feeling in your chest and a heat in your core.

♡— Wesker has been mentally writing down the best nicknames he can think of. "— My Prince/Princess, My doll, My baby boy/baby girl, My little gem, My good boy/girl, honey, darling, dear, sweet little thing." And all of them are accompanied by mischievous phrases and smiles. " — Good job prince/princess, you did well... Keep it up." " — you really are a cute little thing, aren't you? Making Daddy happy." The scientist would purr in your ear, away from your father's eyes... Not that he cares much, but he loves the feeling of adrenaline, seeing your face blush, you would be a mess for a simple compliment or word of affirmation... It was so cute to him, like a stalking prey, a deer lost and beautiful in the snow.

♡— Wesker knew that resisting his charm was never an option, and it wouldn't be. He is a man who knows how to play his cards right, and it wouldn't take long for him to trap you in his web of manipulation and possession, he would make you his body, mind and soul, break you to the breaking point.

♡— Wesker would have luxurious dinners at his penthouse, calling his family, an excuse to see you again. He would get your dad drunk enough to pull you to some corner of the house and pull down your clothes, slapping your ass hard as he knelt kissing your clit, forcing you to lean against the cold wall while he fucked you out. "— Fuck imagine if your father comes in here and sees his sweet son/daughter like that? Fucking his friend?" Albert smiled mischievously, as he inserted two thick fingers into your hole, stretching you to the sides, leaving you well prepared for him. He would hold you with his strong arms, taking you to the table where your father slept drunk, fucking you in front of the man's sleepy body. " — Fucking h-hell Mmm- imagine if he wakes up? Seeing you like this? Seeing that you're nothing but a fucking slut." He babbled, pushing the base of his dick into your cunt, while you covered your moans with your hand, feeling your eyes roll back into your head with pleasure.

♡— Wesker will fuck you in your own house, making an excuse for your father who needs to recommend some colleges to you, while he aggressively beats you on the mattress, tying your ankles with his tie, while overstimulating your pussy, inserting his shaft repeatedly into your uterus, he'll just take out even the tip and put it all in at once with a sadistic smile on his thin lips. "—I could fuck you like this all day."

♡— Wesker would say such dirty and sweet things to you while turning you into a dumb mess. " — Your sweet little pussy is made for my cock, isn't it?" His free hand reaches down to caress your breasts, pinching and pinching your sensitive nipples, eliciting more moans from your lips. He continues to tease and torment you, pushing you closer to the edge of orgasm before pulling back, prolonging your agony - and his, you could beg and whimper, as he takes a cell phone out of his pocket, focusing on your wet, abused hole. " — Oh, you little slut," he grows. " —I love the way you look when my cock stretches you out like this Ah- Fuck sweetheart-" And just as you're about to fall, he slows down once again, prolonging your ecstasy, the buildup almost unbearable. "—Not yet, my dear," he whispers in your ear, his voice filled with wicked delight. "—You will come when I say so. Only when I give you permission."

♡— Wesker will take several photos of your body covered in semen, in compromising positions and with his dick in your mouth, videos, gifs or any digital media available, he will manipulate and chat you so that you are always his, always stay on his side.

" — You will never run away from me, my little pet... Or else... Your father and all your family, friends... They will know what a whore you are, so just be good and keep your mouth shut, pretty boys/girls don't think."

©𝙔𝘼𝙉𝘿𝙀𝙍𝙀𝙎𝙏𝘼𝙍𝘼𝙉𝙂𝙀𝙇 2023

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yandere-daydreams · 6 months

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Title: Meat.

Pairing: Yandere!Ayato x Reader (Genshin).

Word count: 4.5k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Branding/Burning, Prolonged Imprisonment, Forced Marriage, Possessive Behavior, Descriptions of Gore, Implied Stalking, Mentions of Pregnancy, and Suicidal Ideation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You always thought you would wear red on your wedding day.

It was a family tradition – passed down with dutiful care for as long as anyone could imagine. Your grandmother had given her dress to your mother who had gifted it to you, her only child, on your eighteenth birthday, years before you would so much as think about getting something as permanent as marriage. Still, you safeguarded it with a religious devotion, never going more than a week without laying it out to check for signs of moths or mold. When you found yourself on a boat set on a course for Inazuma and could bring nothing but what could fit in the space underneath your bunk, her dress was the only item you truly could not bear to leave behind.

It was one of the few things Ayato let you keep, when he first brought you to his estate. He hadn’t wanted to, but he’d known that you’d throw yourself off the nearest cliff if anything ever happened to that dress. You still would, if he so much as touched it without your permission.

The kimono you were being fitted for now was not red. The fine silk was pure white, the detailed embroidery along the hems and sleeves dark blue and bright, shining gold. The symbol of his archon glowed violet on the swell of the train – meant to appease the other factions of the tri-commission who protested when Ayato announced his intent to not only marry a commoner, but a foreigner. You hated that embellishment most of all, more than the sickly way his colors crawled over your body, more than the irritating smoothness of his favored silks where they hugged against your form and groped at your skin. It marked you as a tool, something to be used to one end or another. It marked you as a sacrifice – and an unwanted one, at that.

“Just as exquisite as I knew you’d be,” Ayato announced, his voice strong and unabashed. You’d begged him not to, but he’d insisted on sitting in on your appointment, making sure you couldn’t correct seamstress or overrule any of the choices he’d made on your behalf. The tailor hummed as she fastened a temporary sash around your midriff, tight enough to press uncomfortably against your ribs. If you needed to cry on your wedding day (which, in all likelihood, you would), it would have to be loosened. “How do you like it?”

You hated it. You despised it. You wanted to claw it apart with your own pristine nails, separate each thread and seam with your very own teeth. You would’ve set yourself on fire just to see it turned to ash that much sooner.

“It’s perfect.” Your own voice sounded distant, distorted. There was no façade of sincerity. He knew as well as you did that there was nothing he could force onto you that you wouldn’t loathe, and you knew that any word uttered as to your hatred for him outside of the privacy of your shared bedroom would result in a collection of fresh rope burns to decorate your wrists, the better half of a night spent bent over his knee. “So long as it pleases you, my lord.”

You dropped your eyes to the floor, attempting to spare yourself what suffering you could, but your resistance didn’t matter; you could hear the sharpness of his smile, picture the way his head tilted to the side as he basked in his own self-satisfaction as he went on, addressing the tailor. “If there’s a veil, you can get rid of it.”

You didn’t think you would ever get used to the way his voice seemed to grate when he was happy with himself.

“I think my heart might give out if I’m not able to see my beautiful fiancé’s lovely smile.”

After meeting Ayato, you began to dream in red.

It was more of a pink, at first – during the first few weeks of his courtship, when the extent of his intrusive affection was a few dendrobiums left on your doorstep and a lingering glance as the handsome young commissioner passed your stall during his weekly stroll through the city market. For a short while, after his possessive habits began to rear their head and you were able to catch his guards in your peripheral more often than not, your subconscious was tinted a near-violent shade of scarlet, the kind that would leave you drenched in your own sweat and half-suffocated by the time you forced yourself to wake up. Recently, since he announced your engagement, they’d taken on a darker shade; choking velvets and deep crimsons blurring the distorted setting as Ayato’s faceless body moved on top of you, as his mouth unhinged and his lashing tongue dragged you down his waiting throat. On your worst nights, he’d tear you apart with his hands, first, divide you into neat, orderly pieces that he could slip past his lips and savor one at a time, one after another, until there was nothing left of you. He’d always preferred you in your most consumable form.

It was ironic, really, considering just how little red he let seep into your waking life. Maybe you had a deficiency; like a pregnant woman craving fish to make up for a lack of calcium. The closest you got to red from the doorway to his study were a few cherry blossoms fluttering past the window, their color dulled by age and their tree nearly stripped bare by the approaching winter. He looked away from his paperwork as you shrugged past the screen door, his pale eyes lighting up as he saw the tea tray in your hands. It was Thoma’s handiwork, but you doubted Ayato cared. He wanted to see you in the role of a caretaker, playing out the part he wrote for you to the best of your limited acting skills. What happened behind the curtain was none of his concern.

“To what do I owe the honor?” he asked as you set the tray on his desk. “I can’t remember the last time you visited me on your own.”

You flashed him a small smile. “Can’t I dote on my soon-to-be husband freely?”

He visibly straightened at the word ‘husband’, a familiar zeal infecting his expression. There was a quirk to his grin, a light tap to his thigh, and the tea went ignored as you obediently fell into his lap, your legs hanging over the side of his chair as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you snug against him. If he was a monster, he’d be one with a thousand hands and a million fingers; he couldn’t seem to go a full minute without clutching at your hips, groping at your chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a deep, relieved sigh. “Husband,” he repeated back to you, all spellbound awe and deceiving wonder. “Archons, I can’t wait to be your husband.”

You wondered, sometimes, if it was his childhood that made him the way he was. After so many years of loneliness, so many tiny disappointments and frigid betrayals, you could only imagine he’d be eager to grab the first warm body he could and refuse to let you go. But, he let Ayaka come and go as she pleased, and seemed to take a certain delight in sending Thoma off on long-winded, far-flung errands. Whatever cruelty his upbringing had bred, it was clearly reserved for you.

His hand slid underneath the slit of your yukata, his breath turning hot and unpleasant against your collarbone, and you drew back with an airy laugh. “I do have an ulterior motive,” you admitted, hoping his curiosity would offset his insatiability, if only for a few seconds. “It’s about my wedding dress.”

“The breathtaking and priceless dress I’m having made by the nation’s most talented tailors so that all of Inazuma will know that I’m marrying the most beautiful person in Teyvat?” He raised his head, clicking his tongue. “What about it?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you said, because he wouldn’t listen to you if you didn’t and you needed him to listen to you. “It’s just— I’m such a long way from home, and I know my family won’t be able to come, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing back the bile that threatened to spoil your sweet smile. “I was hoping we’d be able to incorporate my mother’s dress, somehow. If it’s not too late.”

It wasn’t. You’d been tracking the progress of his tailors meticulously, counting down the days until your wedding like a prisoner waiting for their execution date, and if it was one of his whims, another row of bedding added onto the sleeves or a new embroidery pattern worked onto the train, you knew that there’d be all the time in the world to make any adjustments he asked for. Still, his smile wavered, a brief sigh slipping past his lips as he shook his head. “My love,” The petname lulled off of his tongue as if it’d been coated in sugar and syrup and all the worst things you could think of. “That’s quite the risk to take. The poor thing’s so old, it might fall apart as soon as the tailor’s needle touches it.”

He'd been crueler, before – called the dress a rag as he looked at you with disdain-tinted pity, swore that your reliance on the filthy relic must’ve been caused by some inherent failure of your homeland – but your heart still clenched just a little tighter in your chest at his veiled disdain. “I’d like to try, at least.” Your hands curled around his collar, your frown taking on a more pleading note. “Please, my lord?” A pause, a tightened hold. “Please, Ayato?”

It was his given name, loving and tender and so rarely spoken in your voice, that did him in. He relented with an airy groan, letting his head roll forward in faux exasperation. “We’ll see.”

You beamed, but he was too lost in you to notice, already preoccupied with pressing open-mouthed kisses into your shoulders, your neck. The sash of your yukata was drawn loose, your sleeves pulled down to your elbows and your body shifted onto his desk, where he could spread your legs apart and bury his face between them. Your eyes drifted back to the cherry blossoms trickling past the window, but whatever tree they’d been falling from had finally been stripped bare. All you could see was the bright, cloudless sky – blue enough to leave you burnt and begging for a storm.

Two springs ago, the Kamisato Estate had been overrun with finches.

It’d been a comedy of errors, in hindsight. Ayaka had taken up a fondness for a new kind of flower – one native to Sumeru, introduced to her by an outlander with golden hair and knowing eyes. Thoma, the miracle worker that he was, quickly found a way to propagate it in the estate’s garden, and within the month, little violet blossoms had consumed all that they could reach despite the best efforts of the gardeners to keep them in-check. It would’ve been a delightful problem to have on its own, but the peak of the infestation happened to align with an annual migration of a type of finch that happened to hold a particular shining for a plant with a similar shape and color and— well, anyone could’ve guessed what happened next.

It was a nightmare for Thoma and the other groundskeepers and, since Ayato was staying in the city on business, paradise for you. You spent your days in the courtyard, showing the servants’ children how to braid crowns out of vines and press flowers between the pages of books stolen from Ayato’s personal library. You and Ayaka fed seeds to the red-crowned invaders and coaxed them close enough to pet and sketch, as little talent as you had for the latter, and she listened as you rambled excitedly about the crane-headed whistles you used to make every summer for a very wealthy ornithologist with very slippery fingers. She was just as lonely as her brother, albeit significantly less deranged, and you – trapped, isolated, desperate you – were the perfect victim for her. The two of you were never quite friends, but you came close that spring.

And then, Ayato returned. The flowers were uprooted, the children sent back to their chores, and the finches driven away with nets and stones and salt. You sobbed for hours the day the final flock left, and by means of consolation, Ayato presented you with a blue-speckled wren in a cage of pure silver, silk flowers bound to the bars with yellow ribbons as a reminder of your lost haven. To this day, you still aren’t sure if he meant it to be as cruel of a gift as it was.

You made it all of two days before risking another month spent shackled to Ayato’s bed and sneaking past the guards posted at the estate’s frontmost gates, the golden cage tucked against your chest. You released it in the woods, somewhere with plenty of tree cover and places to hide while it remembered how to be a wild creature, and watched with a smile as it fluttered past the cage’s door and into the open air, eventually landing on the leaf-littered ground.

It hopped all of three tiny steps before a fox emerged from the underbrush and swallowed it whole.

“Are you still with us, love?”

You should’ve gone limp. You should’ve acted as if the pain had gotten to you. You should’ve pretended you were dead to the world and that you couldn’t feel his cock languidly thrusting into you and that you’d gone numb to the searing iron slowly cooling into against the small of your back but, for as resentful as your mind was to him, your body was entirely subservient to Ayato. You tried to respond verbally, and when your voice caught in your throat, you forced yourself to nod, the motion small and shaky. Ayato rewarded you with a breathy chuckle, a fleeting touch to the curve of your spine. A hundred pinpricks of purified agony accompanied his touch.

The silver brand had been commissioned from the finest metal crafters in Inazuma City, made to resemble the warped camellia that was the Kamisato Clan’s crest, and you let out an agonized scream as Ayato drew it back and pressed a calloused thumb into the tender patch of burnt skin. “You always do make such pretty noises for me.” He circled the shape of the white-hot bloom, drawing out another ragged whimper. “It’s a shame I only get to hear them when you misbehave.”

You wanted to apologize, to beg for his forgiveness, but try as you might, you couldn’t seem to remember what you’d done wrong. You hadn’t tried to run away. You hadn’t talked to any of the servants. You hadn’t done anything aside from smile and sit beside him as he spoke with the head of another clan – an older man whose eyes burnt into you for the entirety of their brief conversation. As far as you could tell, he was just a particularly shameless nobleman trying to decipher the curiosity that was the Yashiro Commissioner’s reclusive bride, but Ayato hated letting other men gawk at you at the best of times. Such prolonged exposure would’ve surely brought out the worst of his possessive habits.

You felt something tighten in your chest, catch in your throat, but you only realized you were crying when Ayato’s lips ghosted over your cheek, the gentleness of the gesture quickly replaced with the brutality of his fingers tangled in your hair, your head forced down and into the plush of his bed. You body threatened to collapse, but his free hand fell to your hip, keeping your back arched and your ass raised as he ground lazily into your cunt, in no rush to put you out of your suffering. “I think,” he groaned, lust heavy in his voice. “We’re going to have a big family. Half a dozen kids, at least.”

You beat your fists against the mattress, shaking your head violently, and he twitched inside of you. “They’ll have your eyes,” he went on, a sadistic delight in his voice. “And my swordsmanship, and I’ll love them as much as I love you.” He paused, the head of his cock scraping against something deep and vulnerable inside of you. “Well, almost as much as I love you. As much as I can.”

You tried to struggle, to get away from him, but Ayato held you close, his grip as unrelenting as his slow, aching tempo. With a calculated sort of grace, he leaned towards you, slotting his chest against your back and bringing his mouth to the shell of your ear. “You don’t think it’s too soon to start, do you, darling?”

All you could do was try and fail to scream in response.

The first gift Ayato ever gave to you was a necklace the color of freshly split sapphires.

He insisted that you not think of it as a present, that you consider it little more than justified repayment for an item from your stall broken by the clumsy fingers of one of his couriers, but it was a present, it couldn’t be anything else. His courier had paid for the ruined pottery days prior, and yet, he’d sought you out in person to apologize with that sun-bright smile, to let his fingertips brush against yours as he passed you a satin-lined case with a perfect, ocean-blue velvet choker tucked safely inside. It was a beautiful thing, embellished with silver and dripping with transparent crystals, but you’d liked the color most of all. It’d reminded you of Ayato, and there’d been a time when you treasured any excuse to think of him.

You’d worn it the first time you saw each other properly, too. The occasion wasn’t formal enough to warrant something so needlessly extravagant, but you couldn’t seem to stop smiling for the entirety of your brief-meal-turned-seven-hour-conversation, and as your night came to an end, perched on the edge of a cliff underneath the Raiden Shogun’s palace and breathless from laughing, he told you that if you weren’t careful, he might just fall in love with you. You’d told him that, if he waited a few more days, you might fall in love with him, too.

You’d been wearing the same necklace when he broke your heart for the first time. It’d been an overcast day, the sky a clouded blueish grey and the shogun’s fury just barely audible in the far distance. He told you, with that perfect grin and those lonely eyes, that it really was terribly improper for the lover of a commissioner to run some meager stall in a sweat-soaked market, that he owed you better than a cramped room on the outskirts of the city where you had to wade through hours of farmland to reach anything of importance. When you said that you enjoyed your work, that you adored the back-breaking labor of your craft and loved having neighbors who would leave baskets of cabbage and lavender melon on your doorstep in exchange for misshapen cups and off-pattern bowls, he laughed as if you’d said the funniest thing in the world and cupped your face in his hands, pulling you into a kiss deep enough and sweet enough to make you forget whether or not you’d agreed with him.

You were brought to the Kamisato estate less than a full month later and had yet to leave since.

The final garment was delivered two weeks before your wedding day. You watched from your pavilion as Ayato met the courier at the estate’s gates, accepting a large package wrapped in scarlet silk and brushing off the guards’ attempts to carry it on his behalf. You were embroidering, that day – a delicate, time-consuming art that Ayato praised in comparison to the messy, unpredictable medium of clay. You loathed the monotony of it, the strictness of the patterns, but it meant Ayato was less likely to break your fingers when he found you scrounging away spare mora in the hopes of some perpetually eventual escape and so, you embroidered.

“My mother’s dress,” you said, as soon as he was close enough to hear you. The wooden hoop was forgotten in your lap as you stared up at him, hope written clearly across your expression. “Do you know what they did with it?”

His grin widened. “Eager, are we?” You nodded frantically, and he added, “If I’d didn’t know better, I’d say you care about a dress more than your own betrothed.”

He settled next to you, the package laid across his thighs. He moved to unwrap it, then pivoted – his attention shifting as his gloved hand took hold of your wrist. He’d been touching you more delicately, lately, something you couldn’t help but link with his long-brewing but only recently materialized desire for children. It was a problem you elected to deal with later on, after the wedding, if only for your own inability to process just how horrific of a problem it was.

(There was a part of you which knew, even before your conscious mind could bear to accept it, that you would never be able to love something he put inside of you. Ayato’s obsession was enduring, able to feed off of nothing and contort reality to suit its needs, but your love had always been a rational thing, bound to end the moment it became inconvenient to house. Your love for your homeland died with your mother. Your love for Ayato died with your abduction. And, whatever love you could’ve had for a child— no, a shackle would die the moment the foul creature was born. You could hold no affection for a child that was made in Ayato’s image, that would be cleaved from your flesh for the sake of his happiness, and if by some miracle you did love the monstrosity, then you could only assume it would be because you’d abandoned all hope for yourself. Both futures seemed equally grim.)

“Ayato,” you simpered, leaning against his side. “Please?”

He rolled his eyes, playing soft as he handed you the oversized package. “It should be wrapped separately. I said I didn’t want to see the finished product until the day-of.”

Your hands shook as you undid the many knots. A smaller bundle sat within, separate from the tumor of ivory fabric you forced yourself not to linger on, and you took it up with a desperate sort of keenness, practically trembling as you tore it open with no regard for the integrity of its packaging. The crimson silk was torn away to reveal—

Blue.

Dark, never-ending blue.

“The color came out so beautifully. I’m glad you protested the way you did – otherwise, I might’ve never known we were missing something on our wedding day.” This time, you didn’t fight as he tore the remains of your mother’s dress out of your hands, holding out a sash the shade of apathetic night. You searched for something familiar, for something you could use to ground yourself, but it was absent of all recognizability, desecrated to the point of being all-but alien to you. “It had to be dyed, of course, but I’ve been told the process only cost it a moment of its integrity. The tailors—”

You blinked, but your vision remained black when you opened your eyes. Your body was lurching forward, and then you were in Ayato’s arms, limp and buzzing. Ayato was laughing, as shocked as you were drained, and you made no effort to pull away from him. “My poor little wife. I know – the anticipation’s almost too much to bear.” He pressed a kiss into your forehead. “Why don’t we spend some time together, like we used to? I think I can push my obligations aside for the day, considering the occasion.”

You didn’t respond, but he gathered into his arms regardless. He had always seemed to prefer you as dead weight.

You did end up in red on your wedding day, but you doubted you’d be getting married, anymore.

His own sword slid and out of his back with a wet, gripping noise – only interrupted when the blade slipped in your hands and hit bone rather than viscera. Blood splattered against the white of your kimono with every plunge, staining the susceptible fabric easily and leaving you struggling to keep your feet underneath you as the puddle of scarlet grew deeper, as the screen walls began to drip and your lungs filled with copper and iron. Ayato, the ever-worried lover that he was, had come to check on you before the ceremony, fussing over your blank eyes and the tear-tracks that had ruined your make-up twice, by then. He’d been concerned, but giddy, unable to keep himself away from you despite his many promises of tradition and decor.

He'd made it three, maybe four minutes before beginning to toy with the clasps running down your chest.

You’d taken up the first thing you saw – a hand mirror gilded with shining rose gold – and brought it down on his head.

That, on its own, would’ve left him with a scar and little else, but you’d worked quickly, drawing the sword from its sheath on his belt and bringing it down into anything that seemed vital, anything you could reach, anything that bled calming, soothing red. He stopped moving on the fifth strike, his uncalled upon Vision going dull on the sixth, and on the seventh, you heard someone call for the guards.

You waited until you could hear their footsteps before falling to your knees, bringing the point of your blade to your stomach and clenching your eyes shut, praying to any archon who would listen that you’d hit something they couldn’t be healed, that they’d lend you a more merciful fate than another jail cell, another lifetime of entrapment. You plunged the blade into your stomach and—

And were met with little more than a cold, blunt sensation and a bottomless pit of despair.

You opened your eyes, your gaze flickering from your ice-coated blade to the doorway of your dressing room, now occupied by Kamisato Ayaka, one hand raised and her Vision pulsing at her side. Guards rushed in on either side of her, grabbing at your shoulders and wrists, but your stare never left Ayaka, her parted lips, her flushed cheeks.

Her bright eyes, just as blue and just as lonely as her brother’s had ever been.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere oneshot #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #yandere kamisato ayato #yandere ayato #ayato x reader #kamisato ayato x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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callmerainman · 2 months

Text

First Man on the Earth still couldn't hit this | sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader

pairing. sinner!Adam x fem!sinner!Reader

themes. enemies to lovers, Adam reincarnates as a sinner, Reader is a royal guard.

spoilers! for Hazbin Hotel S1 finale

tw! mentions of sex, suggestive themes in general, the feminism leaving my body as I write for Adam

When Adam came back as a sinner and asked to be redeemed at the Hotel, no one was having that shit lmao.

But, as always, Charlie believes in second chances and it didn't feel right to her to just not let him in.

At only one condition: he would always have to be supervised by you, Lucifer's royal guard.

You were skilfully trained to become a guard at the royal family's services, and Lucifer had just the right mission for you in mind.

You accepted gladly, finally a task that wasn't guarding his rubber ducks.

But then you meet Adam, and you start immediately regretting the ducks.

You both find each other totally INSUFFERABLE.

He hates the idea of someone watching over him, so he lashes at you multiple times a day, as you talk back to him.

"Can't you just not stick your fucking angelic spear in my cereals?"

Despite your hatred for him, you took the mission very seriously and watched over him to check all his moves, just in case he had bad intentions.

But if you could, oh you would have ran away from his repellent presence the second you saw him at the Hotel.

He despises you so much that he doesn't even dare to flirt with you. You heard right. ADAM.

It takes some next level skill to get on his nerves to the point where he doesn't even want to sleep with you. And he remarks it a lot.

You do the same honestly.

"An old hag like you can only DREAM of having a piece of the original dick!"

Your face distorts in disgust "I would rather swallow all of Lucifer's rubber ducks than even think about it!"

At least you agree on something.

So your dynamic mainly consists of fighting, shouting at each other, name calling, pointing at his throat with your spear, Charlie separating you two as soon as you start throwing hands.

Speaking of Charlie, she had some special classes to make you two get along but they made things worse if anything.

One of them lead to the biggest fight you and Adam ever had.

As soon as you both get up to go to your respective rooms, still shouting insults at each other, Angel Dust raises one of his hands.

"Is it me or I sense some unspoken sexual tension?"

Everybody groans in disapproval, but immediately starts placing bets. Angel Dust is the only one who bets that you two will end up fucking.

In your room, you try to cool down but Adam is just making your job impossible. You're in fact fuming just by thinking about him and his stupid pretty face and his way of talking back to you.

Exasperated, you knock at his door, face already hot in anger. You want to set things straight.

As soon as he opens the door and sees you, he's already annoyed.

"You're making my job fucking impossible, you know?! If you really want to redeem yourself maybe you can start collaborating instead of being the most fucking annoying being to ever land in Hell!" you scream, pointing a finger at him.

Adam gets close to your face, towering over you "I'm not the one who asked to have someone fucking glued to my ass, you know?!"

Neither of you noticed your proximity, not until your foreheads were touching and you were breathing heavily against each other's faces, both hot. From anger, or...you know.

And then, something happens.

You both just lean in and kiss.

Oh boy Angel Dust may be onto something.

The moment you and Adam start to make out is the one you realize that all that fighting was your way of denying something that is now obvious.

The magnetic, undeniable sexual tension that wasn't just some weird figment of imagination.

In a matter of seconds you're all over each other and Adam drags you inside his room. You shut the door, just in case.

After you're done you find something else to agree on! 1. Best sex ever 2. No one has to know 3. Never again

You end up having sex again that very same day. And everybody knows because they heard you downstairs. A very lucky day for Angel Dust's finances!

Neither of you knew that the others at the Hotel were aware so you two would try to sneak out to have sex discreetly.

"We'll go upstairs to...uh...FIGHT! You know? Because we always fight! And we're totally not going upstairs to have sex...'cause we would never have sex with each other!"

Except none of that is discreet, you two go absolutely wild at it.

Meanwhile, you and Adam start to open up to each other more, mainly during pillow talk. You find out that you have a common music taste, and humor. Conversations flow so naturally, something that you would have never guessed.

Something blossoms, and you and Adam realize that you are head over heels for each other.

In the end, Charlie brings up to you two that everybody at the Hotel knows that you have been hooking up. On one side, because she's genuinely happy that you two get along in one way or another. Second, Alastor threatened to obliterate you both if you don't stop exposing him to your obscenities.

So you and Adam decide to stop keeping it a secret, to both yourselves and the gang, and officially become a couple.

Let's say that you still are all over him but in a very different way.

The other guests at the Hotel start regretting the times when you two would just shout at each other incoherently.

Lots of PDA, that's the point.

Not in front of Alastor though, you don't want to risk anything.

But what's more redeeming than a really, really, really stupid love?

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam #adam x reader #hazbin hotel spoilers #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #adam x you #hazbin hotel adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam x you #enemies to lovers #writers on tumblr #scenarios #headcanons #adam fanfiction

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yanderenightmare · 8 months

Note

Can we get one of my man geto 🫢 just him getting turned on by seeing the way he makes you cry.

Geto Suguru

TW: yandere, dubcon/noncon, punishment, Geto using the word monkey, reader has no cursed energy

gn reader

He unleashes gross curses on you every now and again when you get bratty with him. Harmless but effective – the ones that swallow up half your body and make you scream for him to help you.

He sits peacefully, elbows on his knees with his head resting in his palm – one eye closed and the other observing you in amusement with a tiny smirk playing on his lips – watching you squirm.

Your whiney whimpers make him chuckle as he lazily gets up. Letting it get to your throat before leisurely lifting a large hand, exorcising it with a single simple swipe.

It disperses without a fight and you stumble to the floor trembling, breaths chocked and eyes wild while he crouches down to your level, cradling you as you shiver with hitched sobs – still feeling hundreds of wet tongues and curious fingers fondling every inch of your body, ears ringing with the distorted lustful utterings of all the things the filthy curse was planning on doing to you.

“Gonna behave for me now, monkey?” He questions softly, his smirk having relaxed into a gentle smile as he tucked a loose lock of hair behind your ear – seemingly affectionately.

But there’s no doubt he has zero respect for you, you think, remaining silent while looking up into those slitted eyes of his – feeling like a mouse being toyed with by a cat, lying wounded in its claws.

He lays his warm palm against your cheek, and you flinch with a sharp intake – offering but small whimpers as he holds your face and those big peeled eyes that look up at him in pure terrified dread. Only returning your cowering with a soft-spoken threat. “It’s either me or more monsters.”

“No-” You gulp, urgently clutching the drapey sleeve of his yukata. “I’ll behave- I promise- I’m sorry- please… no more monsters.” You cry against his chest, muffled with tears while burying your face, yet still coherent enough to make him gently pat your head in response.

“Alright then.” He hums soothingly, pleased – his smile only widening when scooping your legs up, lifting you from the floor, and carrying you back all those confusing hallways you’d just run down. His steps – unbothered and slow – are satisfied in a sense as he holds you to his chest, returning you to his room, where he sets you down on the bed like before.

You sink down in it, your face damp from the tears. Raw and still choking back sniffles, your lips quiver in comprehension as he curls a finger beneath your chin and lifts your head to receive his lips.

He gives you tongue, and you accept it with a weak moan, dropping your back against the duvet in defeat while feeling him crawl over you. Bed creaking under the weight and sending shivers through you.

His hand, big and warm, brushes over your thigh, lifting your tattered nightshirt on his way to rub circles into your midriff with his lips still caught on yours, licking at the sweet salt of freshly fallen tears slipping down your cheeks – groaning at the taste.

He undoes the knots to his layers and lets it all slip to the floor unceremoniously, revealing pale muscles before he bears back down against you – mouth open and clashing against yours with a hungry growl.

His lips soon slip from yours down your neck, nibbling on your collar before leaving suckling kisses on your chest, and you’re reminded of the offending mouths who'd been licking your skin only a while ago – feeling his hand knead the flesh of your thighs, exploring the space between them, quite like the horny digits who'd earlier been exploring you just the same…

And you’re left to wonder if there’s really any difference at all.

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gremlingottoosilly · 9 months

Text

[If you need to be mean] chapter 2

Chapter 1

Konig decided to meet his new favorite civilian at the cafe you work at. Unfortunately for both of you, you're both socially awkward. TW: Konig being a huge pervert, Canon-Typical violence, Dub-Con, Innocence kink, Age difference(Konig in his yearly 40, Reader in young 20)

Pairing: Konig x fem!Reader Tags: Fluff, Power Imbalance, Hurt/Comfort, Size Kink, Possessive Konig, Yandere Konig, Creepy scary stalker Konig, written mostly from Konig's perspective

— Did something good happen, colonel? You are practically shining.

Horangi always had this special ability of telling nonsense with the most serious face and deep voice. He also was the only one in his unit to ever be brave enough to joke with his superior – even though all the other KorTac members usually don’t risk their asses to be put on fire list because of some silly joke. He is the closest König has to a friend – and it’s kinda sad, actually, that a broken gambling addict is the only person who can read his emotions so well, even with his hood and permanently sour expression.

But something good did happen – you happen, of course.

He spend a few days of self-reflecting, drinking and punching training manekens in the gym, trying so fucking hard to put your adorable civillian face out of his mind. You were out of sight alright, but the way your features would get distorted into something even more adorable every time he closed his eyes, was concerning. He dealt with those little obsessions before – nothing that a few good rounds of jerking off until he would feel nothing but emptiness and hatred to himself couldn’t handle. He surely can’t fall that deep down, he only saw you for like an hour and it was literally three days ago!

— I read your reports about the last terrorist encounter. Good job, Horangi.

— And I heard about that civilian girl you pulled, sir. Thought we are bringing those to the police, not their houses.

— I had to make sure she wasn't a spy.

— And she wasn’t?

König thinks – would be far easier if he would have an official, legal reason to keep you locked up on the base without the right to come out. Would be far easier for him to just think about you as an enemy, so he would have normal reasons for thinking about you constantly, and not feeling guilty. It’s normal to think so much about your enemies – this is what keeps you alive on the field, if you can determine their shortcomings early and make sure that you can fight them. He would love having you as an enemy – it would at least give him some info before starting obsession over little ol’ you.

— No.

— That would give us at least some lead to the terrorist cell. Feels like all locals are protecting them from it.

— I understand your frustration. But at least they are not cutting our pay.

— We might as well rebel if they’d try to.

— We are not stepping on terrorist’s route.

— I was joking, sir. Only thing that’s left here except for card games.

Horangi hates stationing in this country as much as König is – and, given that he is a sergeant and doesn’t have as much rank expectations, can talk about this openly. This operation is perfect except for the lack of intel, lack of action and lack of basically anything to do – the local forces are handling minor threats, while mercs here are mostly to show off how the government has money to hire them. KorTac would pay for actually having to fight some bad guys around here – but the bigger ones are hiding and lower ones are already getting tracked down by the local military.

The only interesting thing to do, seemingly, is to obsess over local girls – and König thought he is better than this.

But he isn’t losing sleep over thinking about how scared and fragile you looked that night. Especially not even going to think about how adorable your little pout was, and the way your hands were trembling. He definitely doesn't want to know every tiny detail about your life, what you like and what you hate, what is your favorite position in bed and the color of underwear you are currently wearing – or even if you are wearing one. And he isn’t some sort of creep that would spend an obnoxiously long amount of time registering on social media – god, he is too old for this shit, it literally feels even more humiliating than his whole school experience – just so he can find your accounts and get instant masturbation material.

You really shouldn’t post so much half-naked photos – yes, this is a reel from your last summer vacation and yes, this swimsuit looks beautiful on you, but have you ever considered that some creep(not someone like him, he is palming himself very respectfully) would use those photos as a way to get themself off? Terrible, scary, he can’t wait for you to post some new photos – maybe in something that he would buy you, way skimpier and more expensive, so he could protect you from those people.

He looks at your posts about work – and he hates this stupid blue bird app because it never works for him, always filled with some assholes who are trying to argue with literally everyone, and the way he can’t even see your posts properly because of the weird ads. No, he doesn’t need a “Thing that would make your dick longer” he literally has a problem with making it smaller. No, he doesn’t need some dumb T-shirt even though he kinda reflects with the funny pun about pokemons and would love to wear something containing his major interest even though it would look ridiculous on a 6 '10 killing machine.

But König reads all of your short posts about the way you hate working in customer service, and his hand is almost slipping to the ad about wedding rings. You hate your job, he hates his – practically soulmates, even though he doesn’t really hate the killing part of his employment, he just doesn’t want to be in charge of people and making them steal the fun of destroying. He would, however, agree to get as many ranks as possible if that would mean providing for you. If that would allow him to be by your side and listen to your sweet voice, he would agree for the next promotion even if higher ups would want him to make some PR wawes and become a fucking fashion model.

But he is completely sane about you. Totally normal. Absolutely nothing is wrong with him when he can’t even think about visiting you in real life, but he leaves a like on every of your posts in every social media he has – you have terrible online safety habits by the way, he can already see what the inside of your apartment looks like, your place of work from three different angles, and how the front door of your apartment is held together by a very easy to destroy lock. He could snatch it in one deliberate kick, not even speaking about just shooting it. Not like he would need to, he wants you to be with him willingly. Or, at least, don’t fight him too much in case he would actually lose his patience and do something drastic.

It has already been three days and he feels like he is going crazy. He had those things before, overthinking about tiniest details in someone he never truly knew, but even then he’d understand that he can’t be with them – it could be his school crushes that were, ironically, crushed because of his anxiety. It might be some casual flings with his fellow soldiers that would either get killed in the field or never happen because it would be fraternization. Some random people he saw at the airport and already imagined life with multiple kids and a dog. He always knew he had a problem – but it was never like this before. Never dangerous.

The problem is – he knows that he can have you.

Maybe not in a traditional way, he doubts that you would just marry him on the spot, but he can court you at least. He can shower you with gifts or ridiculous tips at your job, he can just snatch you away and leave you as his perfect little bedmate. He can make his men kidnap you, and while it is inhumane and you don’t deserve this, he would calm you down – and then have his happily ever after.

He knows that he can have you – and it drives him crazy. He could stop himself previously, when he didn’t have anything for himself to be considered desirable – but now, with his rank and all the new opportunities and money it brings, he can’t stop but fantasize.

You under him, panting and blushing, lips puffy from kisses, skin glazed from sweat and marked with his teeth.

You under him, so wonderfully tight, not letting him go even for an inch – and you are perfectly taking him, no matter how gigantic he is.

You under him, smiling, cuddling after a long night – every night after a mission, where he could spend his free time deep in your body, listening to your melodic moans and little whines.

You under…

— Can I…can I take your order, sir?

He is a disgusting human being because lives of thousand people are on a stake, he would just doom them all if he wouldn’t find those terrorists soon – and he wastes time on sitting in this tiny ass cafe, trying to place himself on the small seat while being all too nervous to just talk to you. Like a person. Of course he had to go to your shift – he already determined which days you were working because it increased the number of angry “I hate my job and want to kill my manager” posts on that dumb social media, and he knows which hours you work at – of course it’s almost night time, the closing shift, because he simply can’t have himself not worry about you.

He is a creep, weirdo and all that words in a song that he’s been blasting in his tiny headphones all of these days because he can smell the sweetness of your perfume and the way you are munching on the pen you are using to write his order. Oh, yes, order. He is supposed to order something, he can’t just give you money for how adorable you look in that white apron – even though you are absolutely stunning and should get money.

God, he would murder everyone in this building just for them to never look at your legs again.

God, he would bury himself between them if only you’d allow him to.

— Sir, is everything okay?

He served in the military for far longer that you lived, probably. Most of his life, he got used to being referred to as something honorable, or referring to other people like that – and he never thought that just being referred to as “sir” would make his dick twitch in his pants. He crosses his legs, hoping not to get too imposing – he already towers over the tiny table like a giant he is, barely even fitting in it. He thinks he has a healthy amount of self-control – then he looks at you again, and thanks all the gods he knows for the mask he is wearing – at least under the black surgeon piece and dark glasses you won’t really see his blush. Or that little twitching in his eyes that is indicating danger.

— Sorry, I…can I, um, have a coffee? Bitte…please, I mean.

He hates how nervous he is – like high school again, asking his crush out just to be ridiculed. But you look perfect like this – controlled environment, you can’t just laugh at him and say that he is a weird nerd from another class, you have a manager who is controlling of such behavior. He would never tell on you, of course, he wants you to be happy, even if this job makes you the most miserable – even though he kinda thinks of you as a weak for this, his job literally involves killing people and he doesn't argue that much!

But you giggle – sweet, innocent sound, it drives him crazy even more than he previously was. It doesn’t feel like those girls at school – yes, he still can’t let that go, even though his therapist says he has to – and he loses all control at how beautiful you sound. He wants to take you away right now, pay you for your workplace however you get them, and just use you as he wants – no matter how socially unacceptable. He protects this country, he has the right for a little prize, right? No, this would be terrible, he shouldn’t just harass sweet little civilians like you, he should…

— What type of coffee, sir? Do you want some dessert?

This is a typical question, he was at cafes and coffee shops a thousand times but, for some reason, it feels almost like you are teasing him. You bite the end of your pen with those adorable teeth of yours – he wants to feel it on his fingers, he wants you to leave bite marks all over his body as a sign of marking him as yours. He smiles under his mask, hoping that you would somehow feel it – how happy you make him feel, how hard it’s for him not to lose control.

— No. Just coffee.

— Sugar?

He would like some sugar, of course – but the one he wants is probably not for sale, even though that adorable white apron of yours makes you look like a candy. He would love to unwrap you from those silly clothes and devour what belongs to him for the right of protector, but he knows how scared you might be. He is not a good person, he killed more people that he could count – countless fathers, sons, mothers, he shouldn’t even think about having a right for a family of his own after all of this. He is not a good person and his moral code changes with every kill he gets – but for hell sake, he wants to be nice with you. You deserve it, he knows. More than he is, for sure.

König doesn’t really like sugary stuff, it was always too childish, made him too energetic, disrupted his very peculiar way of eating things. Sweets makes him only more hungry, makes him crave more, and he wants to be as serious as possible – so he usually drinks and eats stuff that is no tastier than a pile of dry sand. But he responds before he can think, too focused on that shiny lipgloss you have on your lips. He would lick and bite it all – soon, he hopes.

— Ja. Thank you.

— Good choice, sir.

Your lips are curling into a small, shy smile and he likes sugar now. He isn’t sure if you are telling everyone that their order is a good choice, maybe you just want to get more tips, but he hopes that maybe, he is special. Maybe there is something nice happening to him after all. A small reward for not being a total monster on the last mission he had, even though he could. He can’t do anything but to stare at you, his only saving grace is the dark lenses of his glasses – he can’t wear his hood in civil situations, unfortunately, people would stare, stare, stare and that would make him want to pull their eyes out.

But you smile and he smiles also, even if you can’t see it. He is looking at your legs and, fuck, he is a disgusting old creature that preys upon younger women because he never had a positive experience before. He is a total creep and a monster that should be put down already – but he stares at your legs under that waitress dress, and he would pay your manager a few thousand Euros to cut the length of your skirt in half.

Then he sees all the others looking at you the same way – old people, young people, there aren’t a lot of guests at this time in the evening, most people are afraid of going into public places while the war on terrorism is going on. There aren’t a lot of people while it’s almost closing time, but he doesn't even want to think about all the other men looking at you like this. Devouring you with their eyes, probably leaving sleazy comments as you go through the small cafe, just as overworked as your other coworkers. He wants to take you from here.

You don’t deserve people looking at you like you aren’t even a person – only he can look at you respectfully, stripping you with his eyes. He can be soft for you, can be perfect – if you would just let him.

König doesn’t want to be a creep around you, but he was looking at your legs for five minutes already, picturing the way your body would look under all of these clothes, and his cock gets painfully hard. He thanks himself for wearing normal, baggy pants, not something tighter – at least his embarrassment is completely covered by his clothes.

— Here is your coffee. Anything else?

You look nervous, of course – but he seems way softer than he was a couple days ago, at night. The absence of his creepy mask is obviously helping, and because he is sitting, you don’t have to tilt your head too high, causing your neck to stretch uncomfortably. He looks awkwards, like a big dog that still tries to fit into his old bed, and it causes you to smile a little bit more. You made sure to place a couple of sugar cubes on the plate, so he could decide for himself, if he wants to use them all – but the mere thought of that giant of a man, a colonel, hardened soldier liking something silly and sweet is making you giggle.

He looks way softer than he was that night, and you can almost forget about how scared you were – how you were thinking that this would be the end for you, that one, overthinking part of your mind already making up the scenarios of getting martial lawed because of the broken curfew. You can even see his hair – and fight the urge to touch it a little. He is still who-knows-how-old and still a military presence in your peaceful country.

You still want to ruffle his hair.

He still wants to take your clothes off and make you his.

— Nein, thank you.

He stares at the cup for a good few seconds – if he wants to drink, he needs to actually take it off. He has many scars on his face, and his mouth sometimes feels like it has more dead skin than alive one – he doesn’t want to attract attention. Some people are already staring at his badge and how awkward a giant man like him looking in that cozy, tiny place – but he also wants you to see how much pain he can withstand without getting killed. How he can protect you from anything because there literally isn’t anything he won’t do for you. You would appreciate a man with scars, it’s a sign of bravery, right?

Then he thinks about all the times he would take off his mask and how people around him would look at him – with pity, with fear, with disgust sometimes even though he is certain that his face isn’t as deformed as some other parts of his body. He even almost managed to grow a beard once! Then he had to scrub it all off because hair was growing in very uneven patches and he looked like something crawled on his chin and died.

König fought in countless battles, spent his youth training to be the best killer possible, took part in many major conflicts and killed hundreds of people while feeling nothing but recoil. He isn’t afraid of anything – except for talking to people sometimes, maybe, and even now he is trying to work on it with his therapist, instead of just killing anyone who looks at him funny. He isn’t afraid of the dark, of death, of uncertainty in his life. But he is afraid of you looking at him unmasked and thinking that you, in fact, find him disgusting.

You almost want to take your time to look at what he will do – is he going to take off his mask? Is he going to drink right through the fabric? You have too much work to just stay at his table and stare, even if you want to – but you are trying to give him occasional glances as he just…sits at his table. Not even moving, just staring at the cup and sometimes moving his head to look at you – or just ornaments at the wall behind you. Yes, probably the ornament.

König sits at the table and, well, he doesn’t even want to drink his coffee because just looking at the way your ass sways under that terribly short skirt is enough to set him on fire. He wants to take you home with him – even though his home is all the way up in Austria. He would take you, you probably wouldn’t even be mad at you – you could be a perfect little family. He already waited too long to start one, never finding anyone who would win his heart for a long run but he was sure that this three-days-obsession would last long. He isn’t sure, however, if he likes it or not.

He ended up not drinking at all – he knows that he can’t just waste multiple hours, he already got his lieutenants covering the spot with paper work while their commander is away at searching for the love of his life. He wants to be with you longer, probably walk you home again and make sure to protect you from any creeps that would want to attack. He can’t have that, it’s obvious – he is a colonel, unfortunately, he is still on the hunt for those terrorists, he can barely give himself an hour of free time these days.

He already indulged in his fantasies too much when he folds a 100 Euros banknote and puts it into the bill – not sure about how much money it is here, not wanting to give you any trouble with exchanging currency, he just hopes that would be enough for you to at least not worry about food for a few days. Or buy yourself something nice – what girls like these days? Guns, books, some fancy lip gloss, a hat for their adorable little turtles? He would buy you a pet turtle, he always wanted one as a kid – right before his father said that all lizards are products of sinful corporations and a lazy pet like a turtle, unlike a giant dog breed, is completely useless and unmanly.

He doesn’t want to be here when you’ll get the bill – he is too afraid that he didn’t gave you enough, that you'd be disappointed. He would love to give you more, of course, but he doesn’t want to just shove you the money like you are some sort of cheap whore – he wants to give you gifts, something meaningful, to steal you from poverty altogether. König is an expert in infiltration and escaping arts, he can exit the location without anyone noticing a thing, even with his size – and then you look at him, directly into his eyes, covered by sunglasses – and your face is twisted in shock as you realize what exactly he left you.

— Wait, sir! Please, I…god, I will get you the change right now, I’m so sorry, it’s closing shift, I…I’m sorry, I completely forgot…

You are almost begging him to stop and let you give him his money, a honorable deed really – but all he can think of is how nice you would look on your knees, begging him to fuck you already. How perfect you would look all whiny and spoiled, asking him for something expensive, whatever your cute head would want. You would look so complete on his lap, tugging on his shirt and asking your daddy for a new toy. You would…

— It was a tip. Take it.

He wants to be able to tell you how perfect you look, how he wants to just throw you over his shoulder in a totally non-creepy way and make you his little wifey. How he would take multiple months of leave to just be with you, marry you, breed you. He wants to have a way with words, but they are useless to him – he can’t even say he likes you, it’s embarrassing, he is almost forty, he got his rank as youngest colonel in history of KorTac, he can literally have almost everything he wants – except for basic social skills.

He feels like a creep, an old man trying to steal that perfect girl from the shiny world, and he hates himself for it – but then you blush and he can almost convince himself that yeah, you like that creep too.

— I…shit, I mean, sorry…thank you, sir.

— Don’t wander at night again.

He feels like a scolding father and you giggle again, too innocent and naive to understand his thoughts.

— I won’t. Promise.

He then slowly leans closer, puts a hand on your shoulder again – goosebumps are running on your skin. His head is near yours now, he is whispering in your ear – and you are almost sure that you shouldn’t have come closer to him like this, that it’s unprofessional from your side, that everyone is staring at you. They are – and you try to ignore it, but…

— Wear shorts under your skirt next time. Never know who might look at your legs like that.

You would slap him here and there. You would scream and run away right now, but for some stupid, dumb, completely terrifying reason, you…almost like how protective he sounds. And the money he gave you is also helping – even if just a little bit.

König looks at the way you blush even more, and he knows already that he won’t ever let you go.

Tag list: @iwritesjud3

Please write if you want to be tagged in the next chapter!

#call of duty #cod x reader #cod x you #cod #konig mw2 #konig x reader #reader insert #yandere #yandere konig #yandere x reader #yandere cod #fem reader

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aphroditelovesu · 3 months

Text

Yandere Satoru Gojo Headcanons (General)

"I will take care of you." — Satoru Gojo.

❝ ㊙ — lady l: lol, this turned out longer than I originally thought, but I love him so screw it! He has a complex personality, so it was more complicated trying to describe him as a yandere, but I did the best I could. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes!! 🩵💜

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, mention of stalking (mild), death and murder.

❝㊙pairing: yandere!satoru gojo x gender neutral!reader.

You probably wouldn't even realize that he was obsessed with you, that the infamous sorcerer of the Gojo Clan, was dominated by you, because he doesn't want you to know unless he wants you to. For a while, he'll be content to just watch you from afar.

Satoru is completely aware that his thoughts, his feelings are distorted, but he doesn't care, not when he was already very involved in you. You had taken over his entire life and thoughts and he wasn't bothered by it, not anymore.

At first, Satoru hated this, hated you and these thoughts that crossed his mind about you. They were ridiculous, you were ridiculous and he was even more so for thinking of you that way. After all, what was so special about you? Yes, you were attractive but it wasn't just your beauty that attracted him, there was something more. Something he didn't know how to define.

But he stopped hating you and focused on you, on his thoughts about you. Maybe they were wrong, but Gojo quickly learned to deal with them. Push them to the back of his mind and focus on his goals. And that goal, the main one at least, was you.

Satoru isn't very good at expressing how he feels about you directly, so he preferred to show his affection in a more distant way, with some gifts and letters that could seem like threats, depending on how you read them.

He is complex and acts indifferent to many and you are not the exception. He is courteous to you, but always keeps his distance, making it impossible for you to find out about his darkest thoughts. He plays with you and has fun, but always being a little obnoxious. Maybe if you looked closer, you'd notice the clenched fists and slightly pursed lips. The anguish that surrounded him when you were around.

Satoru is extremely confident in his abilities and is sure that he can win you over if he so desires. And he wants you, but he doesn't want to admit that he needs you. He doesn't like to appear weak, because he's not weak, but you make him vulnerable and he hates that.

He is apathetic towards those who are weak and if you are a person considered weak in his eyes, this will make him stressed. Not only was he attracted to you, more than that, but to a weak person? How could something like this happen? But for you, and only you, Satoru will help you become stronger, for his benefit and yours.

Satoru is possessive and will not hesitate to destroy anyone who dares to get closer to him. You are his, maybe you don't know it yet, but you belong to him. He is aggressive and will attack without remorse, prioritizing the complete destruction of the one who angered him. There will be no remorse on his face once he is done but pure satisfaction.

Ever the cunning strategist, Satoru decided it was time to act. He began to approach you in subtle ways, taking opportunities to offer hidden advice or compliments. The letters and ambiguous gifts continued to arrive, but now you began to realize that there was more behind these gestures than you initially imagined.

Little by little, Satoru broke down his own barriers and began to show a kinder, more caring side. He offered his guidance in training and missions, always masking his intentions under the appearance of a concerned mentor. You, in turn, began to notice the duality in his personality: the cold, distant professor and the man who, somehow, seemed genuinely interested in you.

But he acted more playfully with you, loosening up in a way, disguising his feelings in any way he could.

Gojo spoils you deeply, he has a lot of money and wouldn't mind spending it on you. But he has rules and will be stingy if you disobey him and will probably punish you with deprivation.

He is cold and doesn't mind sacrificing those for what he believes in and he will sacrifice anyone for you. Satoru will have no qualms about killing anyone he believes to be a potential threat to his ideals. Blood-stained hands won't make any difference to him.

Satoru Gojo is complex and difficult to understand, but his obsession with you makes him even more complicated. His feelings are masked and will only be shown if he wants to and once he has you to himself, there is no way he will let you out.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #yandere headcanons #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #yandere gojo satoru #yandere satoru gojo #yandere satoru gojo x reader #yandere satoru gojo headcanons #yandere gojo satoru x reader #headcanons

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ceruleancattail · 3 months

Note

Hello, I apologize for the inconvenience, but I would like to make a request to Jamil, where in his overblot state he expelled the octanaville trio, Kalim, Grim but left the reader (or MC if you prefer) in scarabia because Jamil already had feelings for her, and took advantage of her overblot state to finally have her beloved diamond, with no one to get in the way (you can decide if you want Yandere or not, but I need to see Jamil be loved and adored by her diamond, maybe the MC doesn't even care much about that because he also has some feelings for Jamil)

Better

Overblot Jamil Viper x reader

Tw: yandere, suggestive, mentions of blood

The pressure of his gaze was stifling.

Weighing down on both of your shoulders, forcing them downwards. The fear struck you like the deadly claws of some horrid beast, sinking deep into your flesh, impaling your bones. Striking fear into the very crevices of your heart.

Sweat coated both of your hands, glistening away against your palms. Fracturing every glint of light left in the room, sending them everywhere in scattered, panicked rays.

Much like your frantic heartbeat, thumping ceaselessly against its cage of bone. Thundering in your ears, drowning out all coherent thought. The only things that managed to stay were animalistic instincts.

Run.

Hide.

Shivering, you raise your head. Making eye contact with Jamil. No…. Not Jamil. That… thing standing tall in front of you, towering over your quavering form. Covered with a black, tar like substance that spilled from every inch of his body. Waxing and waning right before your eyes, twisting into intricate, elaborate designs. Yet for all their delicate beauty, every single piece just felt like another blade, edge sinisterly sharp.

Sharp enough to pierce through flesh like paper.

Sharp enough to hurt both the opponent and the person who donned it.

What had Crowley said?

“Overblots drain the host’s energy. Sapping away at it, bit by bit.

Until they’re nothing but a shell of their former self.”

Lowering your gaze, your eyes flickered from the left and right. No sign of the companions who accompanied you on this reckless crusade. It was supposed to be simple. Expose Jamil’s plans, and everyone makes amends. Your life carries on.

Unfortunately, they’ve been flung out with a simple swipe of the enraged vice-house warden. Tossed aside like scraps of trash, like they didn’t even matter in the first place. Clutching at the fabric of your blazer, you mutter a silent prayer to whatever was looking out for you at that moment.

You managed to roll away just in the nick of time. As a regular, magic-less being, you weren’t too sure if you would have even survived from an impact that large. A quick look at the remains of that blow were enough to send a chill racing down your spine.

Cracked tiles, marble shattered into mere particles of dust, scattered throughout the breeze. Just to think, that would have been you.

“Hey.”

Jamil’s voice rung out, no longer that docile, gentle voice he used when you two worked in the kitchen together. It was horribly distorted, twisted into something that just oozed venom. He spat out his words, anger sizzling in every syllable.

“Where do you think you’re looking?”

Upon meeting those eyes of ebony, all you could muster were sobs, choked out of the very depths of your throat. Hands feebly reaching for where your companions once stood, if that would have brought them back.

A dark blur slammed into the ground right next to you. A shadowy snake, smashing into the floor right next to you. Sending up dust, grime and jagged fragments of what was once delicately painted floor tiles. Some impaled themselves into your palm, your arm. Jagged edges sinking deep into flesh, piercing everything that they could reach.

A growl, a deep, guttural sound. The sound of a territorial beast, sinking its jaws into what was his.

“Stop looking around. They’re gone.”

As quick as a viper’s strike, Jamil’s hand reached out for your face. Grabbing your chin with a single palm, nails digging deep into your skin. Wincing, you jerk backwards, if only in a last-ditch effort to escape his hold.

“Keep your eyes on me, instead.”

Jamil only holds on tighter, squeezing tighter. Your jaw stung, screeching out in burning, white hot pain. A sharp stench stabbed into your nostrils, the foul smell of metallic, scarlet blood. Beads of crimson blossomed on your skin, dripping down the curves of your face.

A forked tongue flickered, slipping out of his lips. Sliding across in one smooth motion. As if Jamil could taste your fear, and he was… relishing in it. A sadistic gleam sparked to life within his eyes, dancing around within like a flame, eager for more to burn.

“Red does look rather good on you. Perhaps you should adorn it more often.”

Something in his voice made you fairly sure that his statement wasn’t just a suggestion. The cold, firm way he delivered that line… it was an order. An order from the tyrant right in front of you.

You gulped silently, words spilling off your tongue in an attempt to snap Jamil out of… whatever twisted state he was in.

“Jamil, stop it. There’s still time, you still have a chance to change back. If this keeps up-“

Grip loosening, you hasten the pace of your speech, convinced your words were getting through to him. For the briefest of seconds, you allowed yourself to hope.

Only for that fleeting, delicate feeling to be crushed. The hand clutching at your cheek was shoved against your mouth, slamming it shut. Jamil’s eyes narrow, glaring daggers at your own.

“Shut up.”

You only got a shallow gulp of air before Jamil’s lips press against yours, his kiss hungry, greedy. Warmth surges through your mouth, his forked tongue flicking menacingly against yours. Hell, you could feel his fangs, those ivory daggers of white graze your lower lip, sharpened edges slipping into the plush of your lip.

Jamil kissed recklessly, drowning in endless waves of both passion and lust. Reaching for every inch you could possibly give, and tearing right past that limit. He took, took, and took, with little to no regard for how much you could give.

By the time he pulled away, there were tears pooling up at the very edge of your eyes. Your lungs ached, a dull sensation. Desperately heaving, sucking in one breath after another, to replace whatever Jamil saw fit to steal from you.

Breathlessly, you mutter.

“Let go of me, Jamil. This isn’t good… for the both of us.”

A low chuckle, before Jamil threw back his head. Laughing hysterically, his laughter echoing through the hallways of Scarabia. Each booming sound dripping with malice, dripping into your ears like acid, hissing and spitting.

“Oh, my dear.

I’ve never felt better.”

#twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #Jamil viper #Jamil #Jamil viper x reader #Jamil x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere Jamil viper #yandere Jamil #yandere Jamil x reader #yandere Jamil viper x reader #protection charm ♦️

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tired-and-ticklish · 1 month

Text

Broadcast Interference

Disclaimer: This is a tickle fic, so if that isn’t your thing, then just ignore this.

Summary: Vox and Alastor’s rivalry is no secret to anyone. What is a secret is the more… interesting ways they deal with each other

TW: Tickling (Intense, seriously), Swearing, Restraints, Drinking, Vox and Alastor are both Bastard Men, Mentions of Cannibalism

Idea inspired by this post by @coolbananas143

Really, everyone should have expected this sooner or later. A rivalry like Vox and Alastor’s doesn’t just stick to insulting each other via radios and television screens. No, at some point, it gets physical, and it’s better for everyone to just stay out of their way. Thankfully, the residents of the Hazbin Hotel had unintentionally done just that.

It was no secret that the Television Overlord spied on basically everyone in Pentagram City, and the Hazbin Hotel was no exception. Sure, at first the monitoring could be chalked up to either “it’s just what Vox does” or “He’s watching the hotel to keep track of Angel for Val.”, but upon learning the Radio Demon had returned from a seven year absence to just throw himself into Charlotte Morningstar’s passion project, well, Vox couldn’t stop monitoring the hotel.

He had waited for the perfect opportunity, one where no one else besides Alastor would be at the hotel. Sure, Vox would have loved a captive audience to his triumph over that old-timey prick, but all in good time. He wanted all of Hell to see just who was in charge, and that would only happen when he found a way to record Alastor without the Radio Demon distorting the video. For now, however, this would do.

Alastor was going to be alone. The Princess had decided on another little ‘bonding excursion’, and as predicted, the Radio Demon had declined to go, most likely finding it beneath him. Ah, how that ego of his would be Alastor’s undoing. After making sure everyone else had left, Vox zapped himself through to the camera closest to the hotel, landing right in front of the doors.

‘You’re in for quite the surprise, you old-timey prick!’ The TV Thought as he entered the hotel.

—

Alastor knew something had been wrong ever since Charlie and the others left. He wasn’t alone in the hotel, much to his annoyance. The Radio Demon had been hoping for one day where he could be uninterrupted, but this was Hell and that was wishful thinking. In hindsight, he should have sent his shadows to see who dared infiltrate the hotel, but he was the Radio Demon, he could take care of any lowlife sinners who tried to deface or destroy the hotel.

What he hadn’t been expecting was Vox, looking like he had been waiting for Alastor. That pompous, sorry excuse for an Overlord had made himself at home, even pouring himself a drink from Husk’s bar. How he ate and drank wasn’t something Alastor wanted to question, what he wanted to know was why Vox had dared to step foot into the hotel.

“Just wanted to see what was keeping you so busy.” Vox responded casually, deliberately reaching over the bar instead of going around it, just making a mess. “There’s so much tacky fucking circus decor in here, is that what little princess Morningstar is running? A circus?”

“I can assure you, they were not my doing.” Alastor growled, his already thin patience for the TV wearing down further. “It’d be best for both of us if you left. With all your limbs still attached.”

“Try me, old man.” Vox dared.

“I would say I’ve been dying to eat you, but I’d rather not expunge my guts today!”

Insults soon turned to assaults, a bottle flying at the Radio Demon. Tendrils spawned from the ground, making a grab at the TV Overlord, but Vox had learned from their last fight. The two scuffled for some time, Alastor only feeling slightly bad for the damages to the hotel, considering that would make more for Niffty to clean.

‘Not to mention how cross Husker will be when he finds the bar raided and destroy-’ That one train of thought was Alastor’s undoing.

The wires from the hotel’s TV ripped out of the wall, ensnaring the Radio Demon. They wrapped around his arms, pulling them taut and upward, before wrapping around his waist and legs, so he couldn’t kick his way out. Try as he might, he couldn’t get free, growling as the TV came closer to his face.

“Look at you, trapped like the helpless animal you are.” Vox grinned, leaning in close, only for Alastor to try to smash his head into the TV Screen.

“I’ll show you helpless when I tear all your limbs off and devour them in front of you!” Alastor snarled, trying to pull himself free as Vox walked around him.

“You need to relax.” Vox hummed, dragging a claw down Alastor’s side slowly.

He had meant for it to hurt, but what he hadn’t expected with the Radio Demon stiffening, and biting his lip. Vox hummed at this discovery, repeating the action, which in turn caused Alastor to try to pull away. The TV couldn’t contain his excitement, he recognized all the signs thanks to working closely with Valentino and Velvette. He recognized them from having helped bring Angel Dust to tears a few times.

“You’re fucking ticklish?!” The amount of pure joy and malice in his voice didn’t escape Alastor. “This is too good!”

“It would be in your best interest if you forget all of this and release me this instance if you value your-” Whatever threat the Radio Demon was about to make was cut off by the feeling of Vox’s claws on his hips, scratching and digging into them.

“You’re not the one in control right now, are you~?” Vox teased. “No, you’re at my mercy, so watch your tongue.”

“Ihihihih’d tehehehell yohohohou to bihihihite meheheh, but yohohohou’d enjohohohoy that!” Alastor was pushing him, he knew that, but he wasn’t about to let the TV Overlord think for one second he wasn’t in control!

“Alright, keep pushing your luck.” Vox mused, moving his hands up Alastor’s sides. “I can do this aaallll day~”

Alastor tried once again to get away from the TV Overlord, his laughter going up an octave as Vox got closer to his ribs. He needed to get out of this situation before the bastard found his worst spots. The Radio Demon was sure his pride wouldn’t survive the taunts and teases that would be sure to follow.

“Let me guess, since you’re a cannibal, this is your favorite spot~?” Vox hummed, digging into Alastor’s ribs and grinning as the deer let out a squeal.

“Iihihihi’ve beehhehehen tihihihickled behehehetter bhihihihiihy thehehehe wihihihihnd!” Alastor was hoping if he got Vox angry enough, he’d drop his guard and that would give him the chance to escape.

“Ohoh, now you’re asking for it you prick!” Vox growled, his eyes scanning over the Radio Demon. There had to be a spot that would have him begging for mercy, and, as Vox noticed Alastor’s ears flicking, he got a wicked idea. “I’m getting bored of this spot anyway.”

His hands were removed from Alastor’s ribs, much to the deer’s relief. That respite was short-lived, however, as he noticed Vox looking at his ears. Before he could even threaten the TV, his ears were being scratched and rubbed, tickling the Radio Demon to no end. He couldn’t hold back anymore, pride be damned!

“FUHUHUHUCK NOHOHOHOHOH!” Alastor squealed. “CEHEHEHEHEASE AHAHAHAHT OHOHOHOHONCE!”

“Oh, that spot got you screaming quickly!” Vox sounded positively ecstatic about this discovery. “Wonder how long it’ll take before you’re a crying mess.”

“NEHEHEHEHEVER!”

“Never?” Vox chuckled, beginning to emit small, harmless shocks from his claws. “Your funeral~”

The shocks were sending a new wave of ticklish Hell upon Alastor’s nerves. A loud screech of radio static came from his throat, Vox recoiling slightly from the noise, but not enough to stop tickling him. The TV wasn’t letting him go anytime soon, and Alastor knew the only thing he could do was pray he either got bored, or pray that the others would return soon.

“I wonder what other spots get you screaming like this?” Vox hummed, despite not expecting the deer to answer. “Not talking? Guess I’ll have to find out on my own~”

Alastor was going to make him pay for this! He’d wipe that shit-eating grin off Vox’s face if it was the last thing he ever did! Another screech of radio interference escaped the Radio Demon, feeling like he was going mad. Vox, meanwhile, was having the time of his afterlife, but he needed more. He needed a spot that would finally be too much for Alastor.

“GEHEHEHEHEHT OHHOOHOHOHOFF MEHEHEHEHE BEHEHEHEHFOHOHOHOHRE IHIHIHIHIHIH BIHIHIHIHITE YOHOHOHOHU!”

A small ‘ding’ sound played from Vox’s speakers, the TV getting an idea. With a smirk, and after a few more electric shocks, he ceased his attack on the sensitive ears. Alastor caught his breath, not yet noticing the wires restraining him brought him up higher off the ground, his abdomen now level with Vox’s face.

“Thanks for giving me a hint~” Vox teased, and before the Radio Demon could respond, the TV had ripped open both the deer’s coat and undershirt, buttons flying off in random directions.

“You’re going to pay for that-” The threat was cut off by Vox slowly stoking a finger up and down Alastor’s stomach, making him freeze.

“All this talk of eating and shit has made me a bit… hungry~” Vox said, before grabbing Alastor’s sides with both hands.

“Vox, I-I’m warning you. If you even think about doing what I think you’re planning, It will be the last thing you ever live to do-” Alastor began, only to be stopped as Vox’s claws dig into his sides.

“You talk too much.” Vox replied, leaning in close.

It happened too fast for the Radio Demon to react, suddenly Vox’s face was in his stomach, before he felt ‘vibrations,’ making him squeal. The ‘vibrations’ were Vox using his TV static to make it feel like he was blowing raspberries right into the deer’s sensitive belly. Cackles of static and laughter came from Alastor, unable to let out a coherent sentence.

“YOHOHOU- STHAHAHA- NOHOHOHOH- IHIHIHIHI’M GOHIHIHING- CEHEHEHASE!”

Vox didn’t stop, in fact, he got worse, squeezing and prodding Alastor’s sides as he continued to torture him. He vaguely wondered if the Radio Demon would pass out from all this, and that would be something to see. Until then, however, Vox was going to keep tormenting him until he had his fill.

Alastor’s nerves felt like they were on fire, desperately trashing as best he could to try and escape. He hated this, he hated all of it so much! Being trapped, feeling helpless, especially at the hands of a bastard television!

“Say, Al.” Vox began, ceasing his raspberry assault in favor of raking his claws over Alastor’s stomach, once again emitting small shocks from them. “Imagine the headlines if all of Hell found out you, the big bad Radio Demon, are stupidly fucking ticklish~”

“YOHOHOHOOHHU WOOHOHOHULDN’T- DOOHOHOHON’T YOHOHOHOHU DAHAH-”

“I can see it now. ‘Breaking news! The Radio Demon and Local Hazbin is ticklish! A few well placed pokes and he’s begging for mercy!’ Wouldn’t that be ‘entertaining?’” Vox grinned. “If only I could get my cameras, and well, you would fucking show up on camera.”

As much as Vox would love to continue breaking Alastor, he was a busy man, and Valentino and Velvette were probably going to be looking for him soon. After one more ‘raspberry’ to Alastor’s belly button, he stopped. The wires holding the Radio Demon up soon unceremoniously dropped him, the deer catching his breath.

“Well, this was informative, and entertaining.” Vox hummed, beginning to head out of the hotel. “We should do this again some-”

Vox’s words were cut off as he was suddenly grabbed by shadowy tendrils, slamming him against the wall. Despite how out of it and tired Alastor felt, there was no way he was letting that TV escape after what he did. Slowly, he composed himself, carefully pushing himself off the floor.

“You seem to forget, old pal.” Alastor began, his eyes turning to radio dials. “Turnabout is fair play, and we still have quite some time before Charlie and the others return.”

“Put me down you asshole!” Vox growled, trying to pull himself free.

“Oh no, you see.” Alastor continued, coming over to the trapped Overlord. “When I get my revenge, I get it tenfold. Best you start praying now~”

Alastor was going to savor every single minute of tormenting Vox. He was going to make sure that pompous television knew never to mess with him again.

#hazbin hotel tickle #ler!vox #lee!alastor #tickle fic #sorry if this is bad i didn't get much sleep

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lonophobic · 1 year

Text

“at least i finally got you back.”

tartaglia x male reader

pt. 2 of “should’ve just begged for me in the first place, huh?”

tw: smut, bottom!male reader, huuuggeeeee size difference, foul legacy!childe, dubcon? idk reader doesn’t stop him 🤷, fingering, humiliation, dumbification (kinda), crying, overstimulation, toys, reader almost passes out, childe big peepee hehe 🤭, im super fucking indecisive about what to call him at the beginning so all childe, tartaglia, and ajax are used, i think thats it maybe this is a long one

genre: smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

summary: tartaglia gets revenge, maybe a bit overboard though.

a/n: i hate myself

part 1

—

you had no idea how exactly this happened. actually, you did, but it made you feel a certain feeling.. fear? excitement? you weren’t sure, but you knew one thing for sure: there was no way you would be walking the next day.

ajax had asked you on a day together, as he had gotten the day off, granted by the great tsaritsa herself. just to note: it was just about a week after you fucked the living daylights out of tartaglia. the day started off nicely, actually. the two of you had a relaxing walk around liyue harbor, getting some snacks on the way. then, as the sun began to set, he had asked you to a duel, a friendly, innocent little match. and being relaxed and a bit tired from the day, you obliged.

maybe it was his talk during the match that caught you off guard, or maybe you were just tired, but he managed to hit you from the back, which gave him the opportunity to pin you down to the floor. you chuckled, you didn’t even get to use your elemental powers that much when he went into his foul legacy form. the man, who was about twice the size you were, looming over you made you remember what he said that week before-“i’ll be sure to get you back sometime.”you stiffen as you remember his promise, laughing nervously as he stared at you intently.

“tartaglia- you’re not thinking of doing it right now, are you? i-uh- we’re both pretty tired from the day..”

tartaglia hummed a response, his voice distorted from his foul legacy form. he stared at you for another split second, when he grabbed both of your hands and put them above your head, then proceeded to tear off your clothes like paper, leaving you in your underwear. you flinched at the cold air against your skin, as the sun was about to set and the colder winds started to set in.

”don’t worry dear, you’ll warm up in no time.”

you looked up to see tartaglia’s mask gone, so you could see his face. his hair was still slicked back, so you could see how dark his eyes were; clouded in lust and danger. you stiffened- maybe you shouldn’t have gone too hard last week. you were lost in your thoughts for a few seconds, but you suddenly came back when you felt your underwear being pulled off, and looked down to see his cock, and- ah. there’s no way that would fit. it was almost as long as your arm, and archons knew how thick it was. tartaglia noticed your hesitance, and laughed softly.

”hey, i’ll help you prep yourself so it won’t hurt as much, alright?”

you nodded, biting your lip as you tried not to think of how it would even fit inside.~at first, he had you finger yourself while he watched. it was humiliating, sure, but it definitely helped to loosen you up a bit. soon after, he used his own fingers which were noticeably larger than yours. you squirming against his fingers, which were knuckle deep inside. they would prod around, trying to find something. he thrust his fingers a few more times, which drew several more moans out of you, when he suddenly curled his fingers inside of you. just before you could cum, he dove down to deepthroat your cock, his warm throat around you throwing you off the edge, staining his throat white. you felt him gag a bit, before he pulled back and swallowed.

he smiled, and pulled his fingers out of you. he placed you so that you were facing towards him, and you would be sitting on his lap if his cock wasn’t right below you. when he started to align his cock with your entrance, you stiffened. you weren’t too fond of having your body ripped apart by cock, and tartaglia could tell. he rubbed your shoulder reassuringly, and sent you a gentle smile. you tried your best to relax as you felt his large tip slowly breach your entrance. you let out a whimper, already feeling the painful stretch. he slowly got the whole tip inside, groaning at the tightness. you were already struggling to catch your breath, already feeling full from just the tip. how the fuck were you going to handle the rest?? he let you stay for a few moments, then slowly lowered your hips down so that you were just about halfway down. you could just about feel him in your stomach- you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. he was too deep, and yet you were only about halfway down. he slowly pulled you back up, then dropped you back down to about halfway.

“HAHH-AugHhh..”

you moaned out- it felt too good, and yet it hurt so bad. you threw your head back, eyes rolling back to your skull. tartaglia seemed to have noticed the bulge on your stomach, which he took advantage of, and softly ran his fingers over it before pressing down on it harshly. you choked on a moan, and felt yourself cum for the second time this night. you spasmed around his cock, screaming into the night sky when he suddenly pulled you all the way down. you could’ve sworn that if he came, his cum would come out of your throat from how deep he was. however, you were just focusing on attempting to heal whatever he could have damaged while he feverishly thrusted in and of you as you felt like a cocksleeve; being used for his cock and his cock only. you felt yourself close already, and feeling him press up against your prostate sent you to cum again, strings of white spurting out of your cock. you heard tartaglia’s distorted moans and grunts, occasionally commenting about you-

“you’re so tight, i might’ve not prepped you correctly.”

“you feel my cock all the way inside, yeah? ‘promise to make you feel good.”

“how does foul legacy taste, huh?”

your arms were wrapped around his neck, digging your nails into his back. you could barely hear them at all; all you could think about was the cock you were bouncing on- how it slid in and out so easily, and yet still felt so big inside. the bulge that stretched your skin that showed you were barely able to keep it so deep inside.

“i’ll make you so addicted that you wouldn’t even want me to stop, ever.”

you could hardly process what he said, but you were already so drunk on his cock that you could barely feel yourself cumming over and over again. you faintly heard your own voice, and yet you could hear tartaglia’s grunts and groans as he thrusted as fast as he could, obviously close to his high. your vision was hazy, and you swore you saw stars when he pulled you down harshly and thrust up at the same time, groaning rather loudly as you felt something hot fill you up inside. it was liquidy, and you felt some of it start to leak out of your entrance and down your thighs. you twitched as you felt him pull out, his fingers scooping up the cum that dribbled down from your hole and pushing them back inside. you slumped against his chest, trying your very best to learn how to breathe again. you were drowsy, and about to fall asleep, when you heard tartaglia’s voice.

“aw, come on. you’re a half-god, right? if a mere human could take this, i’m sure you could as well, no?”

you flinched at his words, not knowing how to respond, not that you really could. whatever you tried to say came out as incoherent babbles, which seemed to amuse tartaglia. he reached back to pull something out of his clothes pocket- something oval-shaped, and a remote for something. then it clicked. it was a vibrator. you tried to push back against the harbinger, already twitching and sensitive beyond belief- you couldn’t possibly take more. unfortunately, tartaglia pulled you back to his chest, smirking against your hair. he took the oval-shaped vibrator and shoved it as deep as he could with his fingers. it wasn’t on yet, so it felt a bit strange to have one thing up inside, when it suddenly clicked on and you felt tartaglia’s dick entering you at the same time, slowly pushing the vibrator deeper and deeper. the vibrator pushed against your prostate as he started to fuck you again, your tears flowing down your cheeks as your eyes rolled back and your mouth hung open. your head was thrown back in pleasure, your hands gripping onto tartaglia’s shoulders as best as you could. with all of your strength depleted, you fell back onto his chest, your arms hanging from his shoulders and your head was resting on his chest. you were twitching all over, cumming once again as you let out quiet, hoarse cries every thrust. you were about to black out- it was way too much stimulation, even for a half-god such as you. to give you some credit, a regular human would have passed out several hours ago. you finally heard tartaglia let out a series of groans, curses, and moans, before he released inside of you once again. he pulled out, taking out the vibrator along with it, as you were on the brink of passing out. you felt a hand on your cheek, and you groggily turned to see tartaglia back in his human form, smiling at you. you groaned, preferring to nuzzle your head back into the crook of his neck again. he laughed, pressing a kiss onto your temple.

“sorry if i was a bit rough. i know it was your first time with.. the foul legacy stuff.”

“what, it wasn’t your first?”

“what?? no, of course it was! it just… felt too good, i couldn’t really hold back. but, hey.” he grabbed both side of your face with his calloused hands, making you face him.

“at least i finally got you back.”

—

words: 1684 words of smut

also tumblr on mobile is a bitch i have no idea how to fix those huge gaps in between the paragraphs so sorry if it bothers you 😕 (nvm it fixed itself lmao)

also now i can stare at the wall and slowly disintegrate i’ve done my job here

#tartaglia x male reader #childe x male reader #ajax x male reader #tartaglia #male reader #bottom male reader #smut #holy jesus my brainrot is so bad #i kind of hate this #but its too long to get rid of lmfao

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cultofdixon · 3 months

Text

Strong, Healthy, that’s all that matters

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Part 2 to “You do what you can” • Alexandria is a wonderful luxury the group was given. Even with the ups and downs • ANGST/SFW/NSFW - Nudity • TW: Miscarriage Mentioned / Pregnancy / Vomiting & Excessive Nausea / Canon Violence

Requested by: Anon

“Why are you out here and not inside with Y/N?” Carol asked her best friend from her porch while he sat on the fence fiddling with his crossbow.

“Doc gave her a sedative. She’s safe, don’t gotta watch her”

“Then why are you biting your thumb every now and then?” She comments on his anxious habit resulting in Daryl stopping himself from continuing.

“She’s weak, can barely stand weak. I’m tryin’ to think of what to do for her when the best thing for her right now is sleep and the IV that doc put in her. He comes by every hour to give us a new one and take the old one to refill. Rick or I change it but I don’t know what else I could do”

“Well, how about I make something that I ate during my pregnancy that I knew I kept down…see if Y/N can handle it. If not, I’ll keep making things pregnancy friendly with what we’ve got.”

“I heard what yea said when they took her to the infirmary.” Daryl hung his head low to avoid her shocked expression. “You wished she’d lost it, then she wouldn’t be useless when we take this place if people fuck with us enough.”

“Daryl—-“

“If yea mean it, then do that shit for my partner and our baby. Otherwise I’ve got it.”

“Yet you’re siting out here and not being with her. Doesn’t matter if you can’t do anything but watch her sleep or hell, sleep with her why not. That’s doing something” Carol states walking past to go to the pantry.

“You look ridiculous by the way!” He had to make one last comment which got a laugh out of the woman.

After a bit more time sitting on the porch to think of anything else he could do for his partner, he decided it was best to listen to his best friend. But when he entered the bedroom Y/N took, she wasn’t in bed and her IV bag was unhooked from her and clamped to keep it from continuing to dispense. Daryl was about to let his anxiety take over when he heard splashing of water.

The second he peaked his head into the bathroom, Y/N quickly turned to him.

“Hi…”

“Hi…how are yea…” His face distorted to the mixture of smells happening in the room. “feeling? What is—-“

“Vomit. I didn’t…make it to the toilet or the trash can at least and puked all over my clothes” Y/N frowns feeling awful about it as she quickly turned away to avoid her tears being noticeable. It’s small potatoes but she’s crying anyway…and again.

Daryl brought himself to kneel by the bath gently taking her chin bringing her attention onto him. He then took care of wiping away the tears bringing out that smile of hers as he leans against the edge of the tub.

“I’ll get you clean clothes. There’s sweats I saw….uhm. Did you take your IV out? Do I have to get—-“

“No it was uhm. The IV tubing was one like a screw in and not a needle piercing the plastic” Y/N showed him that she taped the excess tubing to her arm and did her best to keep it dry. “It’s honestly hard to explain and just easier to show you when I put it back in”

“Puttin’ your old nursing days to use”

“Surprised you even remember that…and it was just a clinic” Y/N laughs softly sinking a bit into the water that was starting to lose its warmth.

“Everythin’ you’ve said to me, I’ve kept to memory. You’re my girl.” Daryl gave her a soft smile which she will take to memory as she brought her hand to rest on his cheek watching him kiss the inside of her palm.

“You know you don’t have to be calm with me…” Y/N reassures even when he gave her a confused look. “I have gotten pretty good at reading your expressions, especially your infamous blank ones…I know you don’t like it here. It’s…scary and I’m not gonna get used to it instantly either or like the others”

“All I want is to keep my family safe. Something doesn’t feel right here but all I gotta do is keep y’all safe”

Y/N smiles bringing herself to the edge pressing a kiss to his lips as he happily returns the gesture.

“Need help out?” Daryl asks when Y/N pulled the stopper out to let the water drain. She nods watching him stand up holding his hands out for her to take carefully.

The second Daryl helped her stand to her feet his eyes fixated on something that anxiously took Y/N’s attention.

“What happened?”

“Nothin’. Nothin’ bad” Daryl states still staring as he helps her out of the tub and reaching for the towel on the sink she set out for herself. “You’re showin’” he says while gently wrapping her in the towel and finding the opportunity to rest his hand on her belly after giving her a quick glance for any signs from her of not wanting him to do such.

But his large hands make it look like nothing in comparison to Y/N keeping the towel from covering her belly a moment so she could rest her hand on her small but growing bump. She couldn’t help the tears that started to form at her waterline when looking at the small bump as she was worried ever since she found out she was pregnant and had this 1 in a million case of intense nausea that the baby wouldn’t grow.

Yet here they were admiring the small thing as Daryl rest his forehead against hers a moment while they both looked before he wrapped her entirely in the towel and picking her up bridal style carrying her back to the rest of bedroom.

Once she dressed in the sweats and long sleeve Daryl had gotten out for her, it felt like a cue for Rick to step in without knocking but Y/N was used to that. She grew up with the guy.

“How are yea feeling?”

“I’m doing okay” Y/N gave him a tired smile while showing Daryl how to reconnect the IV bag. “Did you need something?”

“Yeah you remember Deanna coming in to introduce herself to you?”

“Yeah?” The confusion grew on her partner’s face to what he was getting at.

“She’s throwing a welcoming party or whatever they’re called for our infusion to the place. She wants you to come if you’re feeling well enough”

“I could just lie—-“

“Yeah I know but I have to go and so are the kids. I’d just. Like it if you came” Rick says on his way out before Y/N could say anymore on the matter. She turned to Daryl and before he could share his concerns on why he doesn’t exactly feel welcomed…

“You don’t have to come if you don’t want to. Frankly I don’t…really want to either. I never fit in with this kind of crowd” Y/N rest her head on Daryl’s shoulder feeling his arm snake around her bringing her close. “You just be safe with whatever you do and I promise you I will be safe.”

“You just know what to say huh?” Daryl chuckles lightly pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’ll uh…well, I wanna check out the place when there’s not a lot of people ‘round”

“Can you make sure the wall is actually secure?”

“That what you’re really worried about?”

“I’m pregnant, Dar. I’m worried about a lot of things”

The night of the party came and Rick quietly approaches Y/N’s bedroom knocking on the door frame watching her attention go from the full body mirror to him. She was wearing a dress that was more on the fitted side and showed off her bump, the dress was given to her by Deanna. As if she wanted to show everyone who the pregnant newcomer was.

“You look miserable”

“Yeah but not in that sense. The doc came by to check me out…as per request by—-“

“Jesus fucking Christ”

“And he said I should be fine to go. So I can’t really stand up this party…especially since she also dropped this dress off and it’s like. She wants everyone to know I’m the pregnant one”

“Yeah I don’t quite understand this whole “reliving the old life” Alexandria’s got going for it. But I’ve found a sweater in my closet that I think you’d like to wear over the dress.” Rick tossed his sister the grey sweater that she instantly put on. “Well don’t we clean up nice”

“You miss it?” Y/N questions as she sits on the edge of the bed slipping her untied converse with ease as Rick instantly knelt down to help her by tying them. “The old world?”

“Honest? I don’t”

“Why?”

“I missed my sister, now I see her everyday” Rick stood to his feet once he tied her shoes and helped her up. “I don’t ever want to go back to rarely ever seeing you”

The first thirty minutes of the party, Y/N was approached by those simply introducing themselves to the newcomers and the occasional woman that was too curious about her pregnancy. She even had to swat someone from touching her belly. It seemed to only get worse when one of Deanna’s sons, Aiden walked over trying to do his usual shtick.

“Come here often?”

Gross. “Nope” Y/N tried to brush him off but he kept his place.

“I saw yea come in on a stretcher. Thank god a bombshell like yourself pulled through”

“I wasn’t dying”

“Ah well. Still”

“Still what? Did you not see the man glued to my side or the smallest but obvious reason why I had to be rolled into this shithole?” Y/N glared at the man while holding her belly as Aiden cleared his throat.

“I uh. Just thought you were fat—-“

“EXCUSE ME?!” Y/N scoffs about to break this man in half when Maggie cut in and physically shoved the guy back.

“Woah watch it. I was having a conversa—-“

“Yeah and it’s done, unless you want me to let her beat you to a pulp”

“Like her weak ass can even land a punch”

And without another word, Maggie moved out of Y/N’s way and she didn’t hesitate to land a good one right in the kisser. Aiden instantly fumbled back about to fight back when Reg instantly pulled his son away letting Deanna take care of the situation. But Y/N had enough of being there.

“Come on Rocky, let’s get you home before the ref realizes what happened to her bitch of a son” Maggie quickly wrapped an arm around her friend’s shoulders walking out of the house and heading toward the Grimes’s residence.

“Hope Daryl is having a better time than I am.” Y/N frowns feeling the sick feeling return.

Meanwhile Daryl was checking out the bike frame Aaron had shown him and while he was making a plate for the archer’s partner…Eric wobbled in.

“Hey you never told us your wife’s name”

“She’s not my—-Y/N—We ain’t married.” Daryl fumbled a bit as he had that strange old world feeling when it came to their “situation”.

Y/N Grimes is the love of Daryl Dixon’s life. Neither of them like labels.

Daryl calls her sunshine, darling, and lovely.

Y/N calls him my love, babe, and the occasional Darbear for the fun of it.

The archer calls her his partner to others and some part of him would love to use my wife.

So what’s stopping me? Daryl thought as Eric gave him a confused look after his scrambling.

“I know we just met but do you mind if I push?”

“Why do yea want to?”

“Because I feel like it. I talked to Y/N when we were both in the infirmary” Eric leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed. “She’s a catch, and fate brought you two together…you don’t need a fancy wedding for a union anymore. I get some don’t like labels or whatever, but honestly, those labels are sometimes not for you…besides” He reached into his pocket tossing a ring box at the archer. “She loved that”

Such little time in the infirmary lead to a lot of unanswered questions. But Daryl found himself heading back to the Grimes’s residence with a wrapped plate of spaghetti and a ring in a velvet box. Nothing too fancy. Nothing like what the brides have in the old movies. It suited them. That’s how perfect it was.

“Hey Dixon!” Pete calls out to Daryl carrying a few things in his hands as he stalls by the steps. “Got a few things for your woman after doing a bit of research and what happened tonight”

“The fuck happen tonight?”

Pete gave him about the same level of blank staring before handing him one of those instant ice packs. “She punched the Monroe boy. Should help with the bruising. Plus found one of these pregnancy books in what we are suppose to call a library? Anyway and some nausea meds”

“Thanks…” Daryl accepted everything as he watches him leave before quickly picking up where he left off heading inside.

The archer quickly dropped the plate off on the kitchen island before making his way upstairs and into their shared room finding her still awake. Y/N still wearing the sweater her brother gave her but was finally out of that stupid dress. When she locked eyes with her partner, some part of her wished she still wore it for him to see but she was more focused on everything he carried.

“You were busy tonight”

“Uh. I guess.” Daryl brought himself to sit beside Y/N feeling her lips instantly press onto his cheek the moment he sat before resting her cheek against his shoulder. “Heard about your right hook”

“Dumbass deserved it…”

“Gotta point him out for me, so I know who to fucking show who’s boss”

“I sort of already did, but I will” Y/N laughs lightly against him, taking the offered instant ice pack to crack it and hold it on her dominant hand. “What else you’ve got?”

“I’ve got yea a plate in the kitchen. Had dinner with Aaron and his partner Eric. It was…nice. I wish you were there with me” Daryl kissed the top of her head as she snuggled up into him humming in response. “The doc also gave me meds for yea to try when it comes to your vomiting”

“I can take down fluids so I don’t need the IV anymore. That’s one good thing happening”

“That’s great” Daryl repeated the phrase once more before carefully pulling away from Y/N setting down the nausea meds along with the pregnancy book that peaked her interest—-for only a short moment.

Because the archer getting down on one knee instantly brought her attention away.

“Daryl Dixon. What are you doing?”

“Something…something stupid? I…I know about what we think of labels and shit but I can’t shake this”

“Daryl…” Y/N softens bringing herself entirely to the edge of the bed.

“I’ve been wanting to call you my wife since the last month of peace back at the prison. I want and am gonna spend the rest of my life with you…and this peanut is just. Our overflowing love onto another human being…”

“So poetic of you, Daryl Dixon…” Y/N laughs softly bringing his face into her hands as the tears instantly fell from her touch.

“I love you so much, sunshine”

“I love you so much more Darbear” She smirks hearing his annoyed laugh escape his lips as she gently wipes away his tears. “Now are you going to ask me? Because I don’t need a ring to tell the world how much I love being your wife”

Daryl gently pulls away to take the ring box out of a pocket in his vest as it surprised Y/N slightly when he opened it. It brought out a small tearful laugh to the silver arrow wrapped into a ring. It was a little cheesy but it was for them.

“Will you be my wife, Y/N Grimes?”

“I do, Daryl Dixon. I sure as fucking hell do”

It’s been about two months since then. Y/N was now six months pregnant and Alexandria went through…a lot.

The wall collapsing

The herd

Carl losing an eye

Maggie’s pregnancy announcement

Losing a lot of Alexandrians

It took about a month to fix the wall and collect themselves, slowly bringing themselves back to a sense of normal.

The morning came slowly, or slower than usual…

Y/N shifted slightly in the bed feeling the discomfort truly grow in her back once she opened her eyes. A soft groan escaped her lips which stirred Daryl awake as he lifted his head to check her face for anything but kept his hand secured on her belly.

“The baby isn’t going to kick every time your hand is there”

“She does. Sometimes”

“She huh? What happened to strong and healthy…that’s all that matters?”

“That’s still fact. Don’t mean I can wish for somethin’ on the side” Daryl whispers as he pressed a kiss to her belly which resulted in a laugh from his wife but also a kick hitting his hand. “That’s my girl”

“Rick caught me up on your supply run just the two of you…promise you’ll be safe?”

“I always do don’t I?”

“Yeah but last time you came home with a knife wound in your shoulder”

“Alright, fair enough” Daryl brought himself to sit up and help his wife do the same as Y/N gently caressed his cheek worried about him. “I promise”

“Good…”

Because I have a weird feeling about today

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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ghostbxne · 4 months

Text

a bit self-indulgent edward nashton headcanons bc im going insane and i have to share my though with the world

- he guessed the joker’s riddle wrong. joker didn’t mean to call himself his „friend”, he literally introduced himself as „ the joker” - the card. the less you have the more one is worth (jokers in a deck of cards) (but maybe im overthinking this lol)

- his teeth are not taken care of. the orphanage did not provide proper dental care for the children, so his teeth are crooked and he has a few cavities. he would like to get braces but still can’t afford it

tw: self harm mention in the next one

- he self harms (honestly thats canon, in the year one comic we see him as a child and his hands with very prominent bite marks). he also punches walls (implied in the batman movie when he slaps a wall in his cell in the asylum)

- he stims (in the year one comic he thinks to himself „stop chewing on your glasses, edward”) and is autistic (literally gets called „rain man” in the year one comic) but undiagnosed due to his financial situation and fear of any doctors (my personal headcanon, but also implied considering how the medical staff at the orphanage treated kids)

- cannot cook to save his life. he buys pre-made food or makes really bad watery soups so he can put them in cups and drink them while working

- usually keeps his nails a little longer. he picks at his skin a lot so it annoys him when his nails are very short

- has ocd (implied in the year one comic (intrusive thoughts) and in the movie (compulsive writing))

- has anxiety (pretty much canon)

- doesn’t really listen to music, he prefers podcasts (canonically listens to a motivational podcast in year one) and audiobooks

- usually wears a few layers of clothing. he’s usually cold and also insecure about his body. (i love his year one cardigan)

- really likes animals, especially dogs. he likes how they don’t leave their owners and are always on their side. would like to have a dog but can’t (obvious reasons)

- has very big trouble managing his emotions (canon) and gets incredibly upset when something doesn’t go his way, even the small things

tw: animal abuse mentioned in the next one

- has a fear of water and drowning (might be from that one time when the guy at the orphanage forced him to drown a rat)

- doesn’t really know how to take care of himself due to childhood neglect

- has nightmares every night. after seeing the batman in real life they stopped for a while (he’d just have no dreams at all and occasionally a very distorted fever dream, but still not a nightmare), but he still kept repeatedly waking up in the middle of the night

alright thats it for now, i might edit the post and add more later or idk😭

#danonation #edward nashton #the batman 2022 #paul dano #the riddler #riddlebat #dano riddler #the batman #edward nashton headcanon #headcanons #edward nashton headcanons #riddler: year one #riddler 2022 #dano edward nashton x reader #edward nashton x reader

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bloodynereid · 6 months

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Hello!! I am absolutely loving your R&R fic so far!! If you’re taking requests for more Jordan fics could you do one with a genderfluid reader who is so happy to meet another genderqueer character and they’re just so happy together and supportive? Maybe a cute coming out scene? I completely understand if that’s not something you’re comfortable writing though!! Have a nice day <33

Time and Space

pairing: jordan li x reader (sort of platonic)

tw: nothing really? slight mentions of homophobia, mentions of death, swearing - that's it i think

description: it's your first day at campus and something unexpected happens when you're trying to sort out your schedule.

a/n: ok so i'm not genderqueer myself (even if i do have my own gender things going on atm) so i genuinely hope this is written ok and respectfully. pls lmk if it isn't and i will change anything that needs to be changed. this is also more of a drabble than a one-shot but i hope you enjoy <333

You started picking your way through all the other freshmen that were joining God U. Your suitcase hit different little bumps in the path but you kept trying to make your way to your dorm. Your powers would be incredibly helpful right now but you really didn’t want to accidentally kill someone with how busy everything was.

Supposedly you hadn’t gotten a roommate this year since your application was accepted a little later than usual, a shiver travelled through your spine as you remembered that kid had to die just for you to have a place at this school.

Shaking off the remaining anxiety you finally got to the door that was meant to open your dorm. Clutching your hand on the handle and pushing, your room was opened up to you. It was huge. It probably wouldn’t have been as huge if there was another person living with you but holy shit.

You started going through the motions of unpacking your things and changing into much more comfortable clothes. The 4-hour flight had left your clothes itchy and slightly sticky. Smoothing down the leather of your trench coat, you walked back into the fray of students.

You heard a chime from your phone and pulling it out you realized it was your schedule. You hadn’t really decided between Crime Fighting and Performing Arts but your powers dictated that the first one was probably the better option. You had the ability to distort or rather bend space, which wouldn’t really do much if you were doing performing arts. Plus you had the worst stage fright. A little note at the end read that you should go check in with Professor Brink’s TA as soon as possible so you had all the books ready.

Taking a deep breath you put up your hands and a second later you were standing in front of the Crime Fighting school. Your face twisted into a smirk as some people ducked away from your sudden appearance before you closed your eyes again and transported. This time you appeared in the little entry room outside of Brink’s office.

Sitting at the desk was the person you assumed was Professor Brink’s TA. They had short black hair and she was wearing a long sleeve shirt. They must not have realized you had arrived in the little space because she was still typing away at her computer.

“Uh hi?” You said, breaking the complete silence of the room. The person jumped and looked up at you with a frown.

“Sorry, didn’t see you there. Can I help you with something?”

“Oh right, yes. My schedule said I should come check with you about Professor Brink’s class.”

“Hmm let me see that. I’m Jordan by the way.”

“Y/N. Wait… you’re Jordan Li?” Your mouth dropped, this was the person who had literally made you confident enough to actually come out to your parents. They were like the coolest person ever.

“Yes…” Jordan said tentatively as they looked up at you.

“Sorry, I just had a minor freak out. Holy shit, you’re just- you are a fucking inspiration is all.” You stuttered out, the obvious star struck look on your face had Jordan slightly chuckling.

“I don’t get that a lot but thanks. Oh ok yes, Y/N L/N… oh what pronouns do you prefer today?” Jordan asked as a brilliant smile crossed their face.

“Uh just they/them, I think today? It’s subject to change though.” You said as you laughed slightly.

“Totally understand that, it’s fucking awesome isn’t it? Also your powers sound incredible. How much control do you have over them?” Jordan asked hurriedly as she stood up and motioned you to sit over at the couch.

“Enough, so I’m not exactly at an expert level but I’m slowly building up to it. Your powers are so fucking cool as well. The way you just have a million different powers is spectacular.”

“Aww thank you, most people don’t look past the whole gender thing so…”

“Honestly fuck them, it’s a huge part of us sure but it’s no different than being like any other human being.” You said as you stretched out your arms and smiled. “Oh shit I totally forgot to ask but what are your pronouns today?”

“Uh they/she but… subject to change.” Jordan said lightly, slightly mocking your words with a smile.

“Oh fuck you.”

You spent the next hour discussing everything and anything, finding people who actually accepted and had similar beliefs to you was hard in recent years. Especially with being a supe as well. Jordan also helped you figure out your schedule and got you some extra books that would help with classes. By the end of the conversation, you felt like you had gained your first real friend at school.

ahhh ok lmk ur thoughts <3 also the reader's powers are called spatial manipulation (this is a link to the superpower wiki page if anyone is interested in reading more about it). also me actually being active wow.

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